Page 13 of Demon’s Temptation

“If Zenon found out—”

“He won’t, not from me. I promise you that.” She hoped he saw the sincerity on her face and could hear it in her voice.

He shoved his fingers through his hair. “I need you to know why I’m involved in this.”

“You don’t need to explain.”

“I see them, Chaya, every damn day,” he said, an intensity on his face she’d never seen before. “Battle weary and battered from the fight. Those males, they can’t remember a time when they weren’t fighting. It’s all they know. They’re my friends, my family, and I just…I want to help them.”

She moved in, touched his arm. “I never thought, not for one moment that you were betraying them, James. And I promise, no one will ever know about your involvement from me.”

The muscle in his jaw jumped. “Thank you.” He let out a rough breath. “Okay, I can organize for you to talk to someone. But I can’t make any promises, yeah?”

Excitement filled her. “That’s all I want.” She smiled at him. “You won’t regret it.”

He didn’t look convinced. But that was understandable given who she was now related to. She would prove herself, though.

To all of them.

Chapter 4

With a groan, Brent rolled to his back, scrubbing his hands over his face, and glanced at the alarm clock. Early evening. He’d slept the day away…and woken with his dick so hard it felt like molten steel burning against his stomach.

Images of Chaya had tormented him all damn night—shit, the last two nights, and what little sleep he did manage had been plagued with dreams of her. Instead of getting her out of that cage, and the shit show that followed, Chaya had walked across the club in those spike-heeled boots, right up to him, and turned the tables on him. She’d pressed those soft curves against him, those pixie features hardening, hunger bright in her expressive eyes, and she’d led him to his office.

Then she’d ordered him to his knees, and after getting him to pleasure her with his mouth repeatedly, tugging on his hair, taking every damn thing she wanted and then demanding more, she’d freed his aching cock, climbed onto his lap, and rewarded him for being a good sub by taking him deep inside her, fucking him with all the pent-up frustration burning between them.

His cock twitched against his abs. “Shit.” Who would have thought needing to come several times a day would be such a goddamn burden? But it was, especially when you were as messed up as he was.

Gripping his shaft, he kicked off the blankets. He didn’t think he’d ever been so hard. The veins bulged along the thick length, the head an angry purple, glistening from the pre-come leaking from the tiny slit in a constant stream.

He stroked himself, squeezed and tugged on his aching cock until his hips were bucking off the bed, instinct taking over. All he could see was Chaya, her hot little body, those out-of-control curves as she danced in that goddamn cage, tempting him, tormenting him, making him want things he couldn’t have. Sweat slid down his chest, across his abs, and he jerked it faster, harder.

He hissed, wanting—needing—to come so bad he hurt, throbbed. His balls drew up tight, ass clenched, every muscle in his body as hard as his dick. So close, he was so close.

He continued to fuck into his fist, his panted breaths turning to gasps. But he couldn’t come, not like this, never like this.

He needed others’ emotions to survive, but he’d numbed himself so much to his own he had to cause himself pain to come during sex so he could feel something, even if it was pain.

That’s what he told himself anyway.

No, you’re messed up. Fucked in the head.

He shoved Chaya’s image from his mind, spread his legs wide, and brought his hand down hard and sharp against his scrotum. Hissing in pain, back arching off the bed, he finally came, long and violent.

He slumped back against the mattress, gasping, waiting for the nausea to pass, the pain in his groin and lower belly to cease. For the indescribable relief to finish rocking through him. His cock lay flaccid against his stomach, his biceps and thigh muscles spasming, trembling from the strain.

“Fuck this.” On shaky legs, he stumbled out of bed, collided with the wall, righted himself, and somehow made it to the bathroom without falling on his face, suddenly desperate to wash off the come and sweat coating his skin. And before he could shut it down, an unwanted memory slammed into him without warning.

“That’s it, boy. Clean up the proof of your lack of control.” He trailed his hand down Brent’s back, along his spine, and squeezed his ass painfully. “You have disappointed me. You need to learn control. Punishing you pains me as much as it pains you.”

Brent didn’t answer. Answering just got him in more trouble. Those rough hands continued to move over his body. The touch made him want to throw up, to pull away, but to his horror, his cock began to harden again and the word “please” escaped without his say-so.

“Hmm, you are such a rare find, Brent. See how my touch affects you? Your incubus nature knows what you want, what you need even if your human side continues to deny it.” He fisted his hair. “You are sex, Brent. Nothing more, nothing less. And you are mine.”

“No,” he hissed, turning the shower to hot. Garrett would pay for what he did, not just to him but the others he’d held in that building. Brent thought he had a handle on the memories, the nightmare of the past. He needed to regain control. It was all about revenge now, making that bastard pay. Then it would be over, this darkness would finally lift.

When he climbed out of the shower, he took his time dressing, allowed the ritual of putting on his suit, of donning his armor, his guise, to rebuild his defenses. He needed to regain control, to rebuild his walls. He couldn’t let anyone see who he truly was underneath the carefully constructed veneer.