Page 77 of Demon Unleashed

“Dry me off. And then please don’t make me wait any longer and make love to me.”

~ ~ ~

At Enya’s words, Zoltan smiled. “I’m good with that.”

He dried her and himself with a large, fluffy towel that was softer than anything he’d ever had in the Underworld. Enya’s long hair was down and wet in places, though not soaked. She didn’t bother with a comb or a brush, just took his hand and led him into her bedroom. From the back she looked like Lady Godiva, beautiful and strong at the same time. He was one lucky son of a bitch to have earned her heart and her trust. He just hoped that he wouldn’t disappoint her, because there was no guarantee that he could ever shake the shackles of being a demon.

Enya pulled back the sheets of the king-sized bed and lay down, immediately turning her gaze to him. Her eyes swept over his body, making no secret out of the fact that she liked what she saw. He felt her desire physically, sensed how the mere knowledge of it sent blood rushing south to make his cock swell even more. When her eyes rested on the engorged organ, a growl rose from deep within his chest. Damn, deep down he was a beast, an animal waiting to claim his mate. Everything else was just a mask, a disguise so as not to frighten the fairer sex.

He almost chuckled at that thought. Enya could hardly be described as the fairer sex. She was anything but weak or docile. In fact, she was perfect for him.

Zoltan slid onto the bed and rolled over Enya. She was already spreading her legs to welcome him, and without a word, without a preamble, he thrust into her wet pussy. Months ago, he had never imagined that Enya would give herself to him so freely. He’d expected her to fight him all the way, and that with time, he would tame her to accept him. But even then, he would have never even dreamed of getting what she was offering him tonight: a bond that could never be broken.

Enya put one hand on his chest, the other on his neck. “I love the way you feel inside me.”

He withdrew a few inches, then plunged deeper. “That’s good, because I’ll never leave this place again—not for long, anyway.” He began to move back and forth, rocking his hips, supporting his weight on his knees and elbows, while he locked eyes with her. “From the moment I first saw you, I knew we were meant to be together. I just never dreamed it would be this good.”

Enya caressed his nape, sending an erotic shiver down his spine and into his tailbone. “It’ll get even better.” Her smile was sinful and promising at the same time, while she forced her interior muscles to squeeze him tightly.

“Vixen,” he murmured, and thrust harder, though his tempo remained slow and steady. He wasn’t going to rush this. Taking Enya as his mate was an event he wanted to savor for as long as he could.

Enya pulled his head down to her and captured his lips. Their tongues mated, and he tasted the depth of her devotion to him, the truth of her love, the vastness of her trust. And one other thing: the enormity of her hope. Those same attributes filled him now too, as if he’d been given permission to love, trust, and hope. He didn’t question those feelings any longer, didn’t try to analyze them. Instead, he accepted the changes Enya had brought about in him.

Without a conscious thought on his part, their lovemaking took on a different tempo, a more urgent pace as they writhed against each other, connected not only by his cock in her pussy, but by their lips fused, their tongues dancing, their hands touching. It was as if they moved entirely in sync with each other, their bodies moving as one, their breaths combined, their hearts beating as one. He felt it then: a stream of energy, of power that seemed limitless, infusing him, spreading in his cells, engulfing him, until he felt it, felt her. Before his mind’s eye, he saw her: without a wall around her, without anything to protect her. Her true self, the warrior woman who loved him. The woman who offered herself to him so he could be free.

He felt his chest tighten with heavy emotion, as if he was going to burst, and ripped his lips from her. His orgasm hit him out of nowhere, sending more pleasure through his body than he’d ever experienced before.

“Send the virta back to me. Complete the bond,” she demanded. “Show yourself to me.”

Even though he didn’t know what exactly he was supposed to do, his body seemed to. He laid one hand on Enya’s left breast and willed the virta she’d shared with him to travel back to her. To his astonishment, he felt something akin to a flame charge down his arm, into his hand, before tiny fireworks seemed to explode underneath his palm and penetrate Enya’s skin.

She arched her back, her chest bucking toward him as if she’d received an electrical shock. Stunned, he almost jerked back, afraid of hurting her, but his body refused to break the bond. Then a second wave hit him, a different one. This wasn’t Enya’s virta but the child’s. It traveled through him at a different speed, but with no less intensity, until it streamed back down his arm and merged with Enya once more.

Only now he noticed that the color of his skin had changed. He was shimmering golden. Zoltan lifted his hand from Enya’s breast and examined it in wonder, then looked at the other arm and found the same color.

“We’re bonded,” Enya said with a smile.

He looked into her eyes and wanted to respond, but a spasm went through his torso. The first spasm was followed by a second, before he managed to roll off Enya, clamping his hand over his heart in an attempt to stop the feeling of a vise squeezing all blood from his heart.

“No!” he yelled out in agony.

Enya was on her knees next to him on the bed, trying to help him, but there was nothing she could do. The waves of pain kept coming; the spasms didn’t subside, didn’t give him the chance to even say goodbye to her. Because he knew this was the end. He felt it.

“Zoltan! Oh no, please!” Enya sobbed.

I’m sorry, he tried to say, but he had no breath to form the words. His vision was blurring now, his head near exploding. Through his pain, he reached for Enya, for the mate whose virta was killing him. It was poetic justice, wasn’t it? The last defense of a Stealth Guardian, should a demon ever manage to win a guardian’s heart: their bond would be their downfall.

“Enya,” he managed to say. He swallowed, trying to wet his hoarse throat, and with it, he tasted his own tears. Or were they Enya’s? They had to be, because a demon couldn’t cry.

He suddenly felt her lips on his, kissing his face, soothing him. Their tears mingled, and in his heart he felt only one thing now: Enya’s love. With a start, he realized that the vise around his heart was gone. His lungs were filling with air. The pain vanished. He jerked up to sit and wrapped his arms around Enya.

She squeezed him. “I thought I’d lost you.” She pulled back to look at him. Her eyes widened in shock.

“What?” he asked, alarmed.

A loud sound reached his ears.

“I thought I smelled demon.”

Zoltan whipped his head to the menacing male voice and saw a vampire standing in the open door. “Fuck!”