Creed Page 8

  How could one female incite mind-numbing lust? This was the forbidden girl. Was that why?

  Those innocent baby-blue eyes that had gazed at him with complete adoration when he’d first found her had been his first warning sign that she was not for him. Her humanity had been the big flag waving to mark restricted territory.

  When he reached her breasts, his mind shorted. Lost in her taste, in her smell, in her touch, he didn’t care about what was forbidden or why they shouldn’t be doing this.

  She dragged her hands over his scalp. The painful tugs on his hair mingled with his rampant desire.

  Her heavy breast sank into his hand. He massaged it, rolled the nipple between a finger and thumb. She whimpered and skated a leg up his thigh.

  His female was so responsive.

  Floor. Wall. Something. He had to brace her against something to do what he wanted. He’d shred his pants first. Then the rest of his shirt.

  Wait. He had to ready her.

  Floor. Wall.

  Backing her up until they hit the far wall, he rocked his pelvis only to find she was doing the same. They met. Her sex rubbing against his shaft.

  They both moaned together. He was so damn hard already and they’d just started.

  How long had it been?

  He didn’t care. There was nothing before her.

  They slithered down the wall to the floor. He cradled her all the way down, then stretched them both out with him on top. Holding his weight off her, he trailed a hand to her center.

  Her legs were spread and on either side of him. Two repressed beings so close to ecstasy.

  He tunneled a finger through her folds. So wet.

  For him.

  “Yes,” she murmured against his mouth.

  Since she’d untangled them at that point, he blazed a path down her neck to the throbbing vein at her collar.

  Words came to mind, ones he’d never heard before, but he instinctively knew they were the mating incantation.

  Why would it be that easy with a human?

  Finding her clit, he caressed it and reveled in her reaction. Head flung back, neck bared, breasts jutting into him.

  Could a male ask for anything more?

  She was so primed and ready, but he’d make it good for her, no matter how quickly it hit.

  Increasing the pace, he circled her nub. She bucked and moaned. A male could come from her reaction.

  He hovered over her vein and when her sex clenched, he struck.

  She shouted, words he didn’t understand spilling out of her.

  Without drinking, he swiped his tongue to seal the puncture. This wasn’t about feeding.

  As she came in his hand, he whispered the words clambering to get out of his mind. The bonding ritual.

  He didn’t release, but his body screamed for him to orgasm. No, it was her body or bust. He would not spend in his pants like a young boy with no experience.

  Awareness of her flooded into him. Her sweet innocence was still there. A sweltering pit of venom hid itself inside. And power. So much power.

  He recoiled, his eyes flying wide.

  His female.

  No. His Melody.

  Still not right. The demon part of her was overtaking the human. Soon, she’d really be Meladonna and strong enough to challenge anyone for her spot as one of the thirteen. If she didn’t keep that part of Melody that made her considerate, sensible, and…human, if she took on more and more demonic traits that made her a menace to his kind or other humans, then she’d turn into the very thing he was sworn to destroy.

  Chapter Seven

  So that was what a supernatural orgasm felt like.

  Yes, please, and I’ll take a hundred more.

  She drifted down from her peak. Her eyes fluttered open to Creed’s stricken expression.

  She could feel him.

  He could go anywhere in the underworld and she’d be able to track him. Anywhere.

  Literally. No hunting necessary.

  He jerked his hand away from her. Her legs twitched at the sudden loss of stimulation.

  She refused to cover herself in embarrassment as he adjusted his poor excuse for pants. The look he gave her was full of masked lust and…terror? No, that wasn’t right. He seemed afraid of her. Afraid for her?

  Whatever. He was acting weird again. Shocker.

  She scooted herself up and it was surprisingly easy. Warm, fluid muscles with no tightness, no knots, no tension. Whoa. Orgasm did a body good. Her stomach wasn’t even protesting about its hunger.

  She frowned and feathered her hair back. A hunk of matted hair only shifted at her touch. Was that why Creed was all, I gotta go? Because she looked like a monster?

  Was she a monster? A girl suddenly equipped with sexual venom discovered that sex more than agreed with her, it strengthened her. It was more than a coincidence.

  “Quution,” she called.

  Creed flinched and stared at her like she’d grown a second head. She touched her scalp. It was entirely possible.

  Quution appeared at the entrance. “Was it successful? It certainly sounded successful.”

  She’d blush again, but she’d just made out in the most public place of her life, with a guy who couldn’t look like he regretted it more. “We need to get going.”

  Creed held up a hand. “Before we go back to our realm, can you figure out how to take breaths, do some yoga, or meditate? Anything to prevent you from stabbing people left and right with those.” He jutted his chin up to her horns. “If we go to the human realm, it’s going to be a bigger deal if you rip someone limb from limb.”

  Quution edged out of the doorway.

  “I’ve been controlling my actions my entire life,” she said tightly. “Unlike you, I didn’t get to go around telling people what to do.”

  “You didn’t grow up with demonic power, either. I can feel you.” He swallowed, his gaze straying to where they’d been wrapped up in each other. Oh, yeah, she could feel him, too. “I can feel the fury. You have to figure out how to hold it in or you’re going to hurt someone you care for.”

  Gah, it sucked to admit that. But she wanted to get out of the underworld. She wanted to go back to her ugly pink camo bedroom, and she wanted a shower. She wanted to wear clothes. Brush her hair. Polish her horns and get used to her new normal.

  “Fine. Controlled. See. How easy was that?”

  Creed narrowed his eyes. He didn’t believe. She had to quit caring altogether about what he thought, or this bond would never work. Because she’d cared so hard in the past and he’d only hurt her.

  She wasn’t the kid either of her parents had wanted, so why should she be the mate her male wanted?

  Tears threatened to burn. It seemed like a much bigger deal.

  Deal with it. She imagined a plastic sheet getting thrown over the black hole of rage. It wasn’t meditation, but maybe it’d work. She envisioned a tarp covering the well of emotions so securely that none could escape.

  It worked as well as those sticky bandages that were meant to take the place of stitches. In her experience, she’d always needed to return to the clinic for stitches, but the butterfly bandages were enough in the meantime.

  Whatever. Her figurative tarp functioned well enough and she didn’t have to stop and endanger herself while she busted out some yoga moves to control her mood swings. “So how does this work?” she asked Quution.

  “Getting back to earth? If you could flash, it’d be just like that. Try imagining where you want to go.”

  “My quarters,” Creed interjected. “We’ll go to my place. According to Fyra, we move from the underworld straight into the compound without the flashing wards on the building interfering.”

  “I’ve never been in your place.” Her words were so sweet, syrup should’ve been dripping off them. “I’m going to my room. Follow if you want.”

  “I have to stay with you. We’ll both go to your room.” Creed turned to Quution like there was no more arguing with him.


  Plastic tarp. Plastic tarp. She fought for control.

  What color should she make it? Duh. Pink camo.

  No, it was her mind! She didn’t like pink camo. Pink camo was a meeting ground for her mom. Well, I guess you at least look like you might have two X chromosomes. The deep sigh that always followed her mom’s comments haunted Melody. No more pink camo. She liked blue. Not midnight blue, not the stormy blue of Creed’s eyes—that was kind of a lie, she could look into his eyes forever—she liked a modern, darker blue. She envisioned her Oxford blue tarp and smiled inside.

  Couldn’t you pick something more feminine?

  Not this time, Mom.

  Melody let her eyes drift shut. She envisioned her room, with her trophy fish that her dad mounted for her, much to her mom’s dismay. The antler rack she used as a centerpiece over her TV. The leather couches the vampires loaned her.

  Weightlessness. She could just as well be floating. Darkness enveloped her mind and if she opened her eyes, it probably surrounded her body, but she didn’t want to diminish the effect.

  “Come to us when you get a host,” she heard Creed say before the stink of the underworld vanished. The smell was replaced by the fresh linen scent of her home. The vampire’s mother hen, Betty, must’ve kept things fresh while she was gone.

  Melody opened her eyes.

  She was alone.

  Relieved, she sighed. She was home. She was still her, horns and all, and she could take some time to clean up and tell herself it was going to be okay.

  Creed’s presence surrounded her. Her horns hugged her head like they were afraid of him. Because he’d gutted through their poison?

  “I’m going to use the shower first,” she announced and did her best I don’t care what you say sashay to her bathroom.

  ***

  Creed raced to his room, ran through the shower, grabbed as much of his stuff as he could, and sprinted back to Melody’s place.

  His hair dripped on the collar of his Hawaiian shirt. His erection had finally died, but he could’ve used his roomy board shorts an hour ago.

  He messaged Demetrius for a meeting in another hour and set his phone down and waited.

  And waited.

  The shower ran nonstop.

  He hadn’t pictured Melody being the type to take forever in the shower, but these were extenuating circumstances.

  Still, she should be done by now. If she couldn’t shampoo her hair after this much time, only a pair of scissors would save the day.

  The water finally shut off. He checked the time.

  A half hour before Demetrius arrived. Their whole crew worried about Melody, but Creed had stressed that D should bring no more than Rourke and Grace, the two closest to her when she was fully human.

  He’d ask for only Grace, but with the turn of events in Melody’s humanity, he wouldn’t risk Grace. Neither would Rourke.

  After ten more minutes, he texted Demetrius back to delay it another hour.

  Surprisingly, his boss went along with it.

  Creed blew out a breath and shoved his hands through his hair. He couldn’t sense anything from her, nothing about how she was feeling. What was he going to say to her when she came out?

  They were bonded.

  Something that should’ve been the most monumental moment of his life was more like a business transaction. One he had to reverse as soon as possible. For her own good, and for his. If they were able to return her to her human status, well, as someone who had slaughtered humans, he shouldn’t bond with one. If she continued on her path of rage and violence, then he’d have to stop her, and a bond would get in the way.

  Their connection vibrated like it didn’t like the idea. Neither did he, but he was sworn to his duty, and he needed to save Melody from a future that was too much like his past. He wouldn’t wish the guilt that dogged him on a daily basis on anyone.

  He checked the time again. His admittedly narrow knowledge of females made him wonder if two hours was enough time to clean up. Demetrius was coming in an hour. Would she need the full three hours since they’d arrived to freshen up?

  He hadn’t heard any movements from the bathroom in several minutes.

  Frustrated, he went to the door and knocked.

  “What?” she hollered back.

  “Just checking to see if you’re okay. Demetrius will be here shortly.”

  The door whipped open and everything in him went perfectly still.

  Her hair curled loosely from still being wet. An obnoxiously bright pink towel was wrapped around her torso and it did little to hide what he knew was there. A taut waist flared into hips he’d love to ride for hours. Cleavage he could bury his face in for days peeked above the towel.

  Her purple horns gleamed under the vanity lights. They looked lighter and less menacing than when they’d been on Hypna. They curved around Melody’s scalp and nestled in her hair, almost decorative. The fangs weren’t as noticeable, but maybe that was because he got stuck on her full, pink mouth.

  It hit him. He’d been oblivious to her appeal until now. She’d crushed on him, and he’d kept his distance. The occasions his gaze brushed her moonlit locks, he’d dammed any further speculation. He’d been too aware of her appeal, perhaps. Lingering on her sunny personality or her rounded ass in her worn blue jeans and the way her hips rocked as she walked, unaware of the effect she probably had on the human male population, would’ve been personal torture.

  So he’d ignored her. Then he’d said something that had cut her deeply.

  But they were here now, and he looked his fill. The taste of her from the cave made it impossible to go back to his impervious ways.

  Her light blue eyes had darkened with green flecks. The result was an exotic kaleidoscope that mesmerized those who gazed too long. Did the change go with her horns? Hypnotize a being and stab them with poison? Or was it her effect on him as a female?

  Joke was on him then. Because he didn’t need that poison to want her constantly. But he could do without the debilitating need that had raged through him. His biggest fear after she’d stabbed him had been what if he hurt her. What if he couldn’t control himself and accosted her, done something against her will? It would’ve been unforgivable.

  “I look different,” she stated after he’d stared at her for too long. “But I don’t.”

  “Right,” was all he said. Her allure hadn’t faded, just increased in potency because now he allowed himself to imagine what it could be like between them.

  “The horns.” She rimmed them with her fingers. “I don’t mind them. And my fangs.” She prodded the tips. “I don’t mind them when they’re this short.” She wiggled her fingers. Her claws had shortened to extremely sharp nails. “I gotta be careful of these babies.”

  “You should get dressed.” He spun and strode back to the living room. Being calm and sensible Creed around her proved too difficult. They had a meeting to get ready for.

  “Excuse me for offending your sensibilities.” She stormed after him. He silently pleaded for her to keep her distance. A wall of hurt, fury, and confusion hit him and none of those emotions were from him. “Me being human offended you, now me being a demon offends you.”

  He spun around. She pulled up short right in front of him.

  “It’s not that,” he growled. “It was never that. I don’t want to abuse this bond. I don’t want to get off track of helping you. I’m really trying to do the right thing.”

  “Your right thing sucks.” Her lips were pressed together and her hands were on her hips, the sharp points poking into her towel.

  He sucked in a breath. The adoration she used to look at him with was gone. When was the last time she’d had that look toward him? He’d gone out of his way to avoid her then. Gone was the innocent look of wonder as she’d entered his team’s compound and made her home there. Her expression now was mutinous, borderline hostile, and so damn sexy he couldn’t stop himself.

  He smashed his mouth down to hers. She met him eagerly, h
er hands gripping his shoulders, the tips of her claws punching through his shirt. The jumble of emotions was replaced with lust, want, and unfiltered desire. Hers or his? Both?

  He spun them around. The couch was somewhere, if he moved them enough, he could topple them back on it. Would her towel survive the fall? He had to find out.

  But she shoved him back. The recliner hit the backs of his legs and he dropped into it. She crawled on top of him, her expression full of determination and desire.

  “I’ve wanted this for a long time, and I don’t want to wait any longer.” Her voice had softened. With a hard edge and that hint of anger, he could’ve said no. Encouraged her to get dressed so they could go about their mission of making her better.

  Right now, she couldn’t be any better. Strong. Feminine. And for at least a short while, his.

  “I don’t want to wait,” he echoed.

  Wasn’t this supposed to be a bad idea? Didn’t they have something they were supposed to do?

  He didn’t care. She was in his arms, and common sense fell away; duty was an afterthought. There was nothing more important than Melody.

  Her towel fell away as she straddled his lap.

  His mind lost all track of bad ideas and responsibilities. There was only lush Melody and her sweet, smoky smell, and her breasts lifting with each inhale in front of his face.

  He dipped his head to catch a nipple. She hugged him to her and rocked on his lap.

  Ah, hellfire. His goal of not releasing in his pants was going to fail if she kept doing that.

  He scraped her nipple with a fang. She gasped, her shivers running under his hands.

  Her hips kept moving and now he cursed his board shorts for being in the way. At least their seam didn’t dig into his shaft like his pants had. Nothing was getting in the way of the ecstasy she incited in him.

  He released her breast and kissed his way to her other one. She breathed his name, her hands spread over his head, buried in his hair. The pace increased. She needed more.

  As he caught her other nipple in his teeth, he tunneled a hand between them.