Demon Q Page 7

  She gasped from the shock of the scrape, the zing of pleasure-pain. Quution snapped his hand back and stood. She would’ve been dumped ungracefully off his lap, but his hands wrapped around her biceps like a steel band, yanking her to her feet.

  She blinked, her head spinning for a few heartbeats as she reoriented herself. Her core throbbed with unrequited need. Quution’s desire clogged her nose until she could roll in his firestorm scent. She’d tried to, but he’d dumped her off.

  “Apologies. Did I hurt you?” He released an arm to glare at the offending claw.

  “Is that why you stopped us before go time? It was just a little scratch.” She rotated her leg out to look at the wound. “Don’t you usually scratch and nibble during sex?”

  Quution lurched away. He raised his hand like he was going to shove it through his hair but scowled at his claws again and clenched his fists at his side.

  “We can’t…” he huffed. “You can’t…”

  She watched him prowl the library, turning every which way that wasn’t toward her. Didn’t he find her attractive? “If you don’t want to fuck, just say so.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t…fuck…with you.”

  She rolled her eyes. His discomfort at talking about the subject was so innocent she could barely stand it. “Quution, you’re like a Puritan girl before her wedding night.” Xan shuddered. What a nightmare that had been. “You don’t like me, just say so.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. He wasn’t going to say it, was he? What did it matter? He was a job, a means to an end.

  She’d become more attracted to him, not less. How could that be possible? He was so not her type. His brother might have been, before he’d become a vampire sympathizer, but not Quution.

  She wasn’t one willing to sleep her way to the top, since the top meant giving herself to full-bloods. They were violent and selfish in bed.

  “We just can’t. You can read.” Quution cut a hand through the air. “Our bargain is done.”

  No, this couldn’t be the end of their deal. Her dismay had nothing to do with facing Spaeth with no answers. She just didn’t want to be done with Quution. He was a patient teacher and this reading business satisfied her natural curiosity without hurting anyone.

  She adopted a haughty expression and scoffed. “So you’re saying I can pick any book off this shelf and read it?”

  Quution’s gaze darted to the shelves.

  Xan sauntered closer to his desk and plucked a scroll off. “And you’re saying…” Damn, her ingenious idea of getting close to his reading material had failed. This was in another language.

  He spun around, his arm twitching like he wanted to grab the scroll from her but had decided against revealing how important it was to him. He didn’t want her reading it, she guessed. A dull glow warmed her belly. He thought she had progressed fast enough to adapt to a new language?

  “Oh, look at that.” Her gaze swept the contents, trying to memorize the combination of letters and symbols. Pointless. “I can’t read it.”

  She dropped it on the desktop like it was a bug below her concern.

  “You only asked me to teach you to read. I taught you.”

  “Teach me more.”

  His lower lip puffed against his fangs. Her request troubled him. Was she that repulsive? Was someone like Brittany—Brooklyn—more his type? Did he have a human fetish? “I can teach you, but keep your hands to yourself.”

  Planting her hand on her hip, she sighed to cover her hurt feelings. “Surprise, demon. It won’t be hard. You don’t exactly inspire wild lust.” Could he tell she was lying? At some point, he’d come to do nothing but inspire wild lust in her.

  Hurt rippled across his features. Oh, her dismissal of him went too far, but he could demand she not lay one finger on him lest she pass on half-breed germs?

  Arrogant ass. She spun on her heel and strode toward the exit. “Tomorrow. Your place.”

  It’d give her time to gather herself, nurse her pride, and steel herself to play aloof around him.

  Chapter 8

  The write-and-wipe board was full of words, sentences even. Xan had studied every night for the last week. She had to get started on new languages so she could decipher what Quution buried his long, straight nose in at his desk.

  “So you can concentrate better,” he’d said.

  Mm. Getting close to him was proving harder than she’d ever anticipated. No wonder he’d risen to the top without leaving a mile-long trail of bodies behind him. He was smart, patient, and determined. When an opportunity presented itself, he made sure he was ready. He also did what he could to limit interference. Like he’d done in this cursed library.

  She glared at Quution’s broad back. “When can I learn another language?” He hadn’t answered when she’d posed the question a couple of days ago.

  “Quution.” She tapped her foot impatiently and it was the only time she wished she wore shoes. Her bare foot slapping the ground wasn’t nearly as intimidating.

  “Soon,” he grunted, bent over another damn scroll. “You need to write more.”

  “No. I don’t. I have no plans to pen the next great masterpiece of the underworld.” Her plans included finding her sister and getting her far away from Spaeth. With her niece. “I want to read them.” Just to satisfy her revenge craving, she dropped her voice a few octaves. “You know, for those times when I’m alone in my chamber, and I can’t sleep. I’m just so…restless. And I have to do something with my hands. To relieve the pressure. Since I can’t read, and I need to relax, I start by brushing my hand along my collar, drifting downward, over my breasts, and—” She gasped like she’d caught herself by surprise.

  His shoulders stiffened and she grinned. Abandoning her chair, she padded toward him. This was the first opportunity she’d had in days to get close to those damn scrolls he hoarded like a dragon over its gems. She toed quietly his way. He had to know she was coming for him, but he was at the point where he could tell himself it wasn’t happening.

  And why? She’d never met a male—a demon no less—who’d pass up a quick fuck, a little study break that included penetration and climax. Fear of intimacy was his weakness, one she didn’t care to exploit. An unusual trait for her, but in the past, those she’d targeted had deserved it. She had yet to get an inkling Quution had what was coming to him from Spaeth.

  She was close enough to wallow in his firestorm scent. She’d never look at a fire the same way again. Walking her fingers along his shoulders, she smiled enough to reveal a fang when he jerked, still afraid to look at her.

  Where had she been? Oh yes. She leaned down to speak into his ear, her breath tickling over his hair. “And over my stomach, down to my hot, wet—”

  He exploded out of the chair, knocking her back. She recovered her balance, but dammit, he’d yanked the scroll off the desk before she could get a peek.

  “You promised no touching. We’re done for the day,” he said, his voice shaky. He frantically rolled up the scroll, the jittering of the skin parchment sending dust flying off it. The scroll was so full of information, there was even writing scrawled across the outside. She could still save this day and get a tidbit to feed Spaeth with.

  “Quution.” She prowled toward him.

  His exotic eyes widened.

  “What’s going on in that big brain of yours? I want you. You want me. Let’s just do it.”

  His lips parted, and curse those fangs, she couldn’t get a clear view of them.

  “I can’t…” His resolve was weakening.

  She glided closer, her gaze on his lips and not the scrolls. His mouth mesmerized her as she planned how she could plant hers on top without getting a mouthful of fang.

  A tingle started at the base of her brain. No. No, not now. Spaeth was demanding her attendance, and likely wanted a boatload of dirt she didn’t have. She didn’t even have a spoonful, except for the information about how he’d grown up and the chamber of doom she’d found. But she hadn’t even
gone after Quution for answers about the sacrifices. And her natural senses were telling her that she shouldn’t mention a thing to Spaeth lest she end up in one of the bone dumps. And if she ended up there, Xera was soon to follow. And Xoda. Xan almost winced at forgetting her niece again.

  She snapped her fingers. Quution jumped, his gaze jumping from her hand to her face. She didn’t dare eye the scroll in his arms.

  “You know what?” she said. “I forgot that Marcus has a massage today and I was going to jump on board. A girl’s gotta have some me time.”

  Without explaining further, she pivoted and put on her sexiest sashay toward the door. His gaze burned into her back, between her shoulders. Again, he showed restraint. He could be staring at her ass instead, and she would’ve enjoyed it.

  Weaving through the caverns, she took a few extra loops in case Quution or any other demons were following her. It served the dual purpose of cooling her body off. She’d been so close to kissing Quution. She had yet to plant a solid one on him. Last week, they’d only done a little bump and grind, emphasis on grind.

  Which was fine. But what would kissing him be like?

  “What took you so long?” Spaeth spat, a few droplets hitting her arm.

  She bit back a hiss as his acid spit seared through her skin. She’d heal. “I was finally getting close. He’s a smart one.”

  Spaeth appeared in front of her, his gaze shrewd. “I don’t pay you for close.”

  You don’t pay me at all. She had the good sense not to argue. “He’s closeted. His nose is always buried in scrolls, but he hides them. I was an inch away…” When you interrupted my chance to taste the male!

  “Xan. Are you failing to accept responsibility again? I find this unacceptable.” Spaeth flashed behind her. “I’ll be sure to let your sister know as she pays for your ineptitude.”

  She stiffened. If she was annoyed by a few drops of burning spit, what was her sister experiencing? Or Xoda?

  “I’m protecting your identity.” Xan tried not to sound desperate. “Quution is studying hard, still researching. He’s not close to his goal.” Whatever it was. “But I was under the impression that my mission was top secret. Quution’s smart.” Probably the smartest one down here. “He’ll know if I push, and he’ll find you.”

  Spaeth surged next to her ear. The tender skin of her lobe ached. Lesions spread down her neck. “You’d better make sure he’s not. You want time?” he snapped.

  She flinched. Droplets of spittle dotted her cheek and neck. The smell of her own skin burning made her stomach churn. It was nothing compared to her sister. Or her niece.

  “One week, Xan.” He said each word deliberately. “I want to know everything. Or you won’t even find their rotting remains.” He appeared long enough to lay a hand on her arm. She clenched her teeth but refused to cry out at the agony coursing over her skin.

  “Yes, Spaeth.” She hated being the obedient servant. The underworld had no currency. It wasn’t like she could hire her abilities out. But she’d always had bargaining opportunities. Spaeth had taken that from her when he’d taken her family. Her family was his currency.

  She took her time going back to her chamber. Her mind churned with a plan. Quution had let his fears seep out enough for her to have formed an idea for a hallucination based on his weakness. All she needed was a way to access him when he was most vulnerable, which she had. Watching him while he slept would be considered creepy in any realm, but since she hadn’t slit his throat, she didn’t consider it a problem. However, she’d never performed a manipulation of this magnitude before. Her mother had bragged constantly about her skill at shared hallucinations, how she could break down her target’s identity until they weren’t even sure of their own name. But you’ll get nowhere on fear alone.

  Mama had also been certain that Xan wouldn’t ever be strong enough to perform one. But what Mama had thought was Xan’s biggest detriment had become her most powerful advantage. Fear entwined itself with all other emotions. Fear of not being happy anymore. Fear of the good things getting ripped away. Utter, encompassing relief when a fear was resolved.

  Xan had listened raptly to Mama’s diatribes, but she’d never attempted to construct a shared hallucination of her own. Why change someone’s entire world when she was good enough to get the job done long before it was necessary? But she’d never met a demon like Quution before. Whatever was propelling him was strong enough that she needed to change up her routine. Could she fill his mind with the thought that whatever he was planning was over? Done? His thoughts would fill in what life would be like in the aftermath and she’d be privy to it all.

  She shook her head. Her first shared illusion. He wouldn’t know what hit him.

  Quution blinked his eyes open. Xan was here. Just like he’d expected her to be.

  Only her expression was nothing like he’d ever woken up to before. Her eyes were wide, her mouth hanging open as she scanned him from head to toe.

  And she looked different. He couldn’t quite put his finger on how. Long blond hair fanned over a purple satin pillow and rich brown irises swirled with confusion.

  “What the ever-loving hell…” She shook her head and rolled to her elbow.

  He frowned and glanced down at himself. Naked. Like usual. He preferred to sleep nude. But his body looked like it always had. Humanoid.

  He reached his hand up to brush her cheek, but she grabbed his wrist. Inspecting his short, sharp nails, she uttered another, “What the ever-loving hell?”

  Releasing him, she tufted handfuls of his hair.

  He closed his eyes to enjoy her soft tugs on his scalp. Each time her fingers brushed his horns, he almost moaned. “You act like this is the first time you’ve woken up next to me, Xan.”

  Her hand stilled and she slowly drew it back. Once more, her gaze swept his body. She shook her head and adopted a flirty smile. “And how long have I woken up to you like this?”

  The dam holding his always-present wave of lust back waffled and his cock stirred. “For years.”

  “What? Wait. You called me Xan.” Her brow crinkled. “What about Brooklyn?”

  He didn’t use Brooklyn as a host anymore, and he didn’t care for Xan being confounded. She was confident. Strong. Never bewildered like she was now.

  Or pale. She seemed really pale.

  She shook her head again, light hair flying in her face. Scowling, she brushed it away.

  “What else would I call you?” he asked. “Are you feeling all right? You seem a little…” Wan. Anemic. Pallid. “Maybe we need to get you in the sun more.”

  The next look she gave him was a cross between trepidation and astonishment.

  “Well, you look good. Damn good.” She perused his body again, stopped at his groin, and jumped to her knees, her lush breasts swaying with the move. “So that’s what you’ve been hiding. It’s huge.”

  His grin was smug. He didn’t need a mirror to know. “You’ve never complained.”

  Right? She hadn’t, had she? For some reason, he couldn’t recall their previous times together.

  “No. Nope, I wouldn’t have.” She reached for his shaft, but he caught her wrist.

  “Later. When you’re feeling better.”

  She made to prowl closer to him, probably on top of him, but he rolled over and sat up with his back to her.

  Something was off. The way she wiggled her hips should get him painfully hard, but her hips just didn’t seem as wide as usual. Overall, she was less muscular. Xan was a robust female, but she seemed less so today.

  “I’m feeling fine.” And from the sounds of it, pissy. “What are you going to do today?”

  He stretched and a sudden brush of heat ran down his spine. She was watching him. He opened his mouth to answer but no words came. What was he going to do? “I…don’t know.” He looked over his shoulder at her.

  Her lips pursed and released. “Okay. If it was your perfect day, what would you do?”

  He turned back to stare at the
white wall across from his bed. White wall? That seemed off. Was the freaking wall ashen, too? Maybe the issue was him. But he couldn’t look at blond-haired, doe-eyed Xan as he answered. “Make love to you all day.”

  She made a choking sound before she gave him the snarkiest tone possible. “We’ll have to table that until I’m better.” A soft sigh left her. “Are you going to…dress in your trench coat again?”

  He shuddered. “Sweet brimstone, no. I’m so done with that now that the nasty business with the underworld is taken care of. I only dress when I leave the house.”

  He jerked his head around to the window. Ditching the bed, he went straight to the curtains and flipped them back.

  Xan rushed behind him, her hand moving outside of his periphery. Was she waving?

  “What do you see?” She sounded alarmed.

  Grass. Trees. A lake glittering in the distance. “It’s so blue.”

  “Yeah, it’s a cloudless day?” This time, her voice rose like she was asking a question.

  “No, the water.” He grinned. “We should go swimming.”

  She put her hand on her chest, taken aback. “I don’t swim.”

  He blinked. “You don’t? Meh. You should rest anyway. I’ll cook you a meal.” He beelined for the door.

  “Are you for fucking real?”

  Stopping before he exited, he turned back. “Why?” Rolling his shoulders, he tipped his head back. His feet were planted on the floor, his body strong. His hips didn’t ache, and there were no hitches in his back. All those years of being in disguise. That part was clear as a bell. He stood straight and tipped his head left and right. “If I never walk in platform boots again, it’ll be too soon.”

  He smiled at Xan, but her brow was scrunched once again. He was dumbfounding her left and right.

  She recovered and shot him a sweet smile. “Tell me again, why the getup?”

  “To dupe them, remember?” Didn’t she remember? Talking about his disguise tied his tongue like he was learning a foreign language.