Deviant Devil

Hades Squad 3: Deviant Devil Jianne Carlo Hades Squad 3: Deviant Devil Copyright © August 2011 by Jianne Carlo All ...

Author: Carlo Jianne

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Hades Squad 3:

Deviant Devil

Jianne Carlo

Hades Squad 3: Deviant Devil Copyright © August 2011 by Jianne Carlo All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions. eISBN 978-1-61118-511-9 Editor: Maryam Salim Cover Artist: Anne Cain Printed in the United States of America

Published by Loose Id LLC PO Box 425960 San Francisco CA 94142-5960 www.loose-id.com This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Chapter One “I didn’t think you’d come.” Demon nodded at Tribal, Bacchanal’s bouncer, as he and Devil took the stairs two at a time. “You haven’t been here in forever.” Nine months, sixteen days, and some eleven-odd hours. Devil knew to the second when the lure of the private, upscale BDSM club had begun to pale: the night he’d danced with Jessica Blaine—the maid of honor—at Sinner’s wedding. He shrugged. “It’s the Halloween auction. And I had dick-all to do.” “Wanna bid on a threesome?” Demon shouldered his way through the throngs packed into the club’s interior. “If you’re up to it?” His fellow Hades Squad team members had been ribbing him without mercy about his recent reluctance to cluster fuck. Why not? Maybe a night of bonging till he dropped would jump-start his stalled cock. “Yeah, go for it.” Devil eyed the pool behind the bar in the middle of the room. Translucent walls enclosed water tinted blue by the lights at the bottom of the kidney-shaped structure. The top of the pool was situated two floors above on the club’s roof level. A score or so of naked bodies cavorted in the water. The hard plastic magnified body parts and a slew of ginormous pricks, pussies, and bobbing breasts crisscrossed the colored rays intersecting the undulating liquid like a slow-mo laser display. “Pussy hair back in style?” “Yeah, it’s the new sexy.” Demon slanted him his trademark three-dimpled grin. “Retains the pussy perfume better.”

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Ten to one, Jess had delicate pubic curls covering her mons—a shade darker than the golden hair on her head; his mouth watered. Would her pussy taste sweet and spicy? Tangy? Devil ground his teeth. Lately Jess popped into his mind way too often and at the worst times. Like now when he was fuck hunting. A quick scan of the voyeurs glued to the pool’s activities revealed a few familiar faces, asses, collars, leathers, and signature accessories. In one corner, a throng of men and women adored a wrestler-built giant of a man wearing unbuttoned indigo jeans painted onto his bronzed flesh. “Who’s the pretty boy in the corner?” The stud tongued a breast held up for his attention while his hands plucked and twisted two nipples, the cruel force of his fingers eliciting shouts of appreciation from the onlookers. “Goes by the name Tron.” Devil rolled his eyes. “Creative he’s not.” “Attained platinum in three months.” You had to spend a ton of money and win executive approval to reach Bacchanal’s platinum status in three months. He and Demon had achieved the exalted rank because their company had designed the club’s security system at cost. “We did his background?” Some nuance about Tron he couldn’t pin down had Devil’s senses ricocheting like a bullet trapped in a tank. “No. Bacchanal’s doing their own checks now.” The lull in the music ended with an echoing drumroll. Devil winced. Why the hell had he come? The air system went on overdrive. The temperature dropped five degrees, and the familiar lemon and linen aroma designed to neutralize the blossoming odors as sex play escalated tickled his nose. He sneezed. The club scene had once fascinated him, and he and Demon had spent every spare minute here tasting and testing, fucking like stallions let loose in a herd of mares in heat. Together they’d tried everything Bacchanal had to offer: orgies, baby

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oil parties, whips, flogging, but their favorite play had been shared threesomes. Females of all shapes, sizes, and ages had vied to be picked by either one of them for a night or a weekend. Demon elbowed him. “Wanna check out the viewing room?” Why not? Anything to relieve the tedious rhythm of his life. Devil nodded. Not that he expected to be shaken out of the miasma trapping him in limbo. Located directly behind the curtain-draped stage, a twisted nylon rope divided the viewing room in two. On one half stood those waiting to be auctioned. On the other, the club’s platinum members mingled, their gazes straying to assess the offered bounty. Bacchanal enforced strict dress codes for all auctions. All participants—the auctioneer, the bidders, the escorts, and those volunteering for auction—wore elaborate black masks designed to conceal identities. The silver-streaked Mardi Gras mask revealed eyes, lips, and chin. Those being auctioned wore long-sleeved, flowing white robes with high necklines, escorts were clothed in black from head to toe, and sweeping sapphire cloaks garbed all bidders. Only audience members had their choice of attire. He’d been undercover for eighteen months before leaping into the business world, so Devil needed only one sweeping glance to tabulate sex counts and determine eagerness levels. Twenty-seven in total being auctioned: fifteen men, a dozen women, maybe half went both ways, all submissives or… His narrowed gaze tracked the lone figure not radiating a single docile electron. Her graceful glide, the unique tilt to her head. Devil’s cock went rocket hard before recognition slammed his hide, sucking the oxygen from his lungs and tightening a noose around his intestines. He grabbed the rope with both hands and had one leg thrown over before Demon’s arms locked around him like a cobra. “What the frick’s wrong with you?” “Jess.” Enough blood flowed to Devil’s brain to allow his vocal cords to reorganize into functionality. “Jessica Blaine. Seven down, three from the wall.”

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Demon hauled him back onto the buyer’s side of the divider and stiffened the neck-locking, rib-cracking clench that prevented Devil from inhaling, far less moving a millimeter. “You can’t be certain.” Devil exploded into action, chopping his arms and hands up, ramming his booted foot into Demon’s shin. Demon didn’t flinch, his hold didn’t lessen, and he jerked a knee between Devil’s legs. A shrill lance of pain sliced Devil’s balls. He froze. “We are out of here now. Got that?” “Over your dead body.” No way was Devil letting Jess out of his sight. “Who’s the auctioneer?” “New guy. Ram. We’re attracting attention.” “Get your fucking knee off my stones.” “Don’t make me pound you into next week.” Demon’s arms dropped. He took a side step so he faced Devil, and his lips curled into a sneer. “You are so done for. Jess Blaine’s not for you, Dominix. It can’t be Jess. She’s not into the life.” And didn’t he fucking know that? It was the only reason Devil, aka Dominix Zubiri, hadn’t jumped her yet. Hadn’t taken her to a remote cottage and bound her to him. “Then why’s she here? And don’t tell me that isn’t Jess. It is. And she’s mine.” Devil went through a series of breathing exercises designed to slow the heartbeat and fire rational synapses. “Find that bouncer, Tribal. Bring him here. Once he’s in place, we’ll hunt down Ram and fix the bid.” Demon grunted and shook his head. “You got it bad. Jess is Destiny’s best friend. You can’t screw with her. Sinner’ll stake you in the desert next to an anthill.”


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Their fellow Hades team member, Sinner, had married the love of his life, bestselling author Destiny Driven, nine months earlier. Jess had been Destiny’s maid of honor. “Fuck off. Find Tribal.” Devil locked on to Jess. “Get him here in three minutes, or I snatch her.” He didn’t even notice when Demon left. What are you into, Jess? Pain? Anal? Threesomes? Damp sweat coated his flesh. No way could he share her with anyone. Fuck, please don’t let it be scenes. Her pussy belonged to him and him only. So much for his sweet, barely touched Jessica. So much for his fantasies of introducing her gently to sex his way. He loved the irony of that phrase, the word gentle, the most explicit oxymoron in that context. Fury merged amoeba-like into his blood cells. Jess had tormented him for nine months. Nine months he’d been watching Jessica Blaine, and not once had she given the slightest clue she was into the life. Months of fucking females he barely wanted, months of never having more than a moment’s satisfaction, months of starving for Jess. Scheming, Machiavellian witch, acting the missionary-position female, playing him the way the Inquisition torture masters had played their victims. He squinted at her, theories breaking the sound barrier and roaring in his ears until he heard nothing but his thoughts. Devil seethed, his fists clenching and unclenching, his jaw wired tight, nostrils flaring hard snorts. He considered and tossed aside one tortuous punishment after another. He pictured her spread-eagled, hands raised, bound to a fixed, freestanding St. Andrew’s cross, giving him access to front and back. Blindfolded, no mouth gag, so he could hear every moan, every whimper. He’d imprint his tongue, his touch, his smell on her. Train her to respond to him and only him. He’d tie her down and bring her to the brink of climax again and again until she begged, pleaded for release. Paddle her backside, finger fuck her,

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tongue lash her clit remorselessly, tease her G-spot, and when he finally allowed her to come, then and only then would he taunt her by removing the blindfold. Let her see that he, Dominix Alexander Zubiri, the man she’d looked down her nose at for the last nine months, the man she’d rebuffed three times, the Devil she’d so sneered at, had given her the best fuck of her life. By the time Demon returned with Tribal in tow, Devil had fixed on a strategic action plan framed by a white-hot rage that had him shaking and his vision blurring. “Auction’s in fifteen. You got it together yet?” Devil knew Demon’s gravel and chocolate tone held an implied threat. “We don’t need a UFC round, if that’s what you’re hinting at.” “I can see the smoke pouring out of your ears.” Demon machine-gunned Devil’s chest with a jabbing forefinger punctuation. “Tribal says she’s been coming weekends the last three weeks. That means she’s not a regular, Dominix. Is anything making it into your thick spaghetti-for-brains head?” Three weeks? Devil blinked. His momentarily receding wrath reared and spiked as he scanned the room and identified three known sadists, any one of whom could win Jess tonight. “She’s up for auction. So she’s not a regular here. How many sex clubs are there in Manhattan? The fucking city?” “Don’t. Jump. To. Conclusions. And don’t take your anger out on her. I guarantee you’ll regret it.” “I’m not jumping to conclusions. There’s only one conclusion. She’s into the life. Little Miss Don’t Touch Me is into the fucking life.” Devil folded his arms and stared Demon down. “You’re not going to listen. And I’m going to so fricking enjoy saying I told you so.” Demon glanced at his watch. “Twelve and counting.” “Tribal, get over here.” Devil waved the hulk-built bouncer into a huddle. “This is the way it’s going down.”


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Demon argued against Devil’s plan to no avail. “I’m on record as being against this. This is so coming back to bite you in the ass.” “You have five minutes left. Management always starts right on time. We on or what?” Tribal’s glance bounced from Demon to Devil. “It’s on and we’re outta here. Isn’t that so?” Demon sighed but nodded. The two Hades Squad team members left to speak with the auctioneer. Bacchanal held all auctions on a mirrored stage. The slight reflection on the hard plastic surface displayed tantalizing glimpses of genitalia when the escort guided the first person up for bid to the center of the platform. A halo of gold-hued light bathed the voluptuous female. The translucent robe she wore bared all to the audience. A rising collective murmur of appreciation drowned the strains of Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get It On.” Satisfied he had everything under control, Devil inclined his head at Demon and stalked back to the viewing room. He’d changed and now wore the garb of an escort. The two bouncers guarding the entrance to the room motioned him in. Devil counted seven escorts in all. Tribal, who also functioned as Bacchanal’s event coordinator, angled his chin to a far corner veiled in shadows. Back hugging the cool wall, Devil propped a booted foot on a nearby stool and studied Jess. The chestnut wig she’d chosen to conceal hair the color of liquid sunshine complimented a peaches and cream complexion Jess never polluted with makeup. He’d sat next to her in meetings and hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her dewperfect skin, the hollows below her ridged cheekbones, the thick brown lashes framing eyes a blue shade identified as robin’s egg on his hardware store’s paint palette. She didn’t converse with the other auctionees, but slid into a niche formed by the drapes screening the stage and the audience. Tilting her head against the wall,

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Jess stared at a spot on the ceiling. Devil saw no evidence of nerves: her chest rose and fell evenly; her fingers didn’t drum or flicker; her feet, framed by CFM threeinch taupe stilettos, remained in one spot. Jess had a habit of touching her tongue to the left side of her mouth when stymied by an unexpected question, and she did that now. The sight of the tip of her pink tongue drove him insane. Kicked his balls blue and burning. Sent his prick into a battle against the zipper’s teeth and sucked a steady stream of precum from the slit. Devil choked back a slew of Greek curses. Tribal cleared his throat, the sound a cannon bang over the low babble. Devil jerked his head around, and their gazes locked. Tribal gave a thumbs-up. Devil uncoiled and strode around the edge of the room until he stood behind Jess. She didn’t flinch, didn’t move, didn’t react in any way. He filled his nose with the just-mowed-grass smell of her, the mingling zing of some wildflower fashioning the aroma into spring blossoms at their zenith. Her scent sank into his pores, flooded his veins, pooled heavy and throbbing in his groin. “Cheetah, you’re up.” Tribal’s bellow silenced all conversation. When Jess straightened and turned in Tribal’s direction, he waved at Devil. “He’s your escort.” Cheetah? A half sneer formed right at the moment when their gazes met. Jess flinched, stumbled, pressed a palm into the wall, and steadied herself, and only then did Devil notice she had brown eyes. What the fuck? It’s not Jess. Shit, shit. He’d screwed up big-time. Damn Demon for being right about him jumping to conclusions. Devil let his lids fall as he considered how to right his wrong. When he opened his eyes, Devil found Jess staring at him, her jaw dropped, one hand pressed over her mouth, the gleam of recognition clear and obvious. Her eyes widened, she backpedaled, and an overhead light highlighted the contact lenses she wore. “Dominix.”


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If he hadn’t been attuned to her every nuance, Devil wouldn’t have heard the horror in her hissed whisper. Colored contacts. Deceitful, conniving woman. His resolve hardened. Her recognition pulsed a burst of acrid bile over his tongue. The need to make her uncertain, keep her off balance, had him mimicking a thick Texan drawl. “Do I know you, sweet thang?” She frowned, licked the corner of her mouth, and her scent became musky with fear. “No.” “Hustle it, Cheetah.” Tribal’s shouted order broke their locked stare. Devil offered his arm. Jess rested her palm on the back of his hand, the barest contact, yet it struck lightning to his knotted balls. He gritted his teeth and urged her forward. The audience went quiet when they strode through the curtain, and then a wall of sound erupted. The disharmonious din of shouted lewd suggestions, catcalls, and whistles faded and dimmed before Devil left Jess standing in the center of the platform. He took up a position directly behind Jess. His glance raked her rigid stance, her squared shoulders, and his teeth snapped together when she linked trembling fingers at the base of her spine. His gut cramped. What the fuck’s going down? The bidding gong echoed and bounced around the club. “This is a limited auction.” Ram lifted an envelope high. “The limit is one blowjob in a private room.” A blowjob? Devil snorted. In a BDSM club, Jess offered a blowjob? Fuck, those happened in full view every ten minutes on a normal night. “Five hundred.” The bid came from a cloaked man jammed into one corner of the bar. A muscle jumped and burned under Devil’s eye. No one paid five hundred for a suck-off in a club. He searched for Demon.

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“Five fifty.” Devil shot Demon a furious glare. He wanted this over and done. Why hadn’t Demon doubled the bid? “Fifteen hundred.” The fucker in the cloak had a sinister Hannibal Lector, cultured British accent. Devil slammed a clenched fist into his palm. Escorts weren’t allowed to bid. He’d outsmarted himself with his elaborate plan. “Fifteen hundred and fifty.” The grin Demon flashed Devil underscored the reasoning behind his nickname. Demon loved nothing better than mental fucking with Devil’s head. Devil’s knuckles itched, and he ground his teeth together, the urge to fly across the room and pulverize Demon so overwhelming he bit his tongue till he tasted blood and still took a reflexive step forward. “Two thousand.” Who the fuck was this a-hole bidding on his Jess? And why in hell did he want her? Beyond protocol, not giving a flying crap escorts had to be neutral, couldn’t bid on a sub, he mimicked a storm-challenged windshield-wiper motion, captured Demon’s attention, and slashed a finger to his throat. “Five thousand.” “Limit reached. Sold to number thirty-one for five thousand dollars.” Ram slammed the gong into the brass plate. Demon and Devil had prearranged the limit and conclusion, never expecting the bidding to go above the club’s usual five- to seven-hundred range. When Devil led Jess to Demon not seven minutes later, the pulse at her throat throbbed in uneven fits and starts. A thin patina of sweat coated the skin above her upper lip.


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Jess had never met Demon. He’d been on assignment when Sinner married Destiny, and then on loan to Coronado until six weeks ago. Demon hadn’t a handsome bone in his body. Weighing in at over two hundred and fifty pounds, standing three inches over six feet, the man had less than three percent body fat. California’s governor in his prime looked like a chest-caved nerd next to Demon. Add in a nose broken three times in recent history, the perpetual glare that had carved three deep lines between shaggy brows, one lip twisted into a sneer by a shoddy stitching job on a knife wound, and you had a mug that parted throngs. The man scared seasoned SEALs. Devil kept his peripheral gaze fixed on Jess, saw her lower lip quiver, and heard her audible gulp when he transferred her hand to Demon’s thick, sinewy forearm. Half of him wallowed in her fear; the other half yearned to haul her onto his lap and pet away her terror. “I believe you owe me a blowjob, Cheetah.” Demon’s words shot a spinning spike into his head. Devil’s reflexes kicked in, and he whirled around, ready to deck his best friend. Demon trapped and held Devil’s gaze, and mouthed, Get your shit together. Right, she’d intended to suck some other a-hole’s dick. He owed Demon bigtime for the reminder. Devil paced the now empty viewing area for exactly nine minutes and thirtyfive seconds before his patience snapped. Close enough to the time he and Demon had agreed upon. His long strides consumed the distance to the private playroom. He punched in the security code and slithered into the darkened chamber. The night-light inserted into a low-lying outlet barely illuminated the three feet closest to the door. Using hand signals, the two men communicated quietly, Demon left, and Devil secured the room. The soundproof interior stifled even the air conditioner’s humming, and in the eerie quiet, the sound of Jess’s rasped breathing thundered. He stood still and looked his fill.

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As instructed, Demon had her kneeling on the soft carpet, blindfolded, arms stretched wide, and the silk bonds on her wrists connected to rings attached via a long arm to the walls. She had her head cocked to one side. Even in the dim lighting, the robe hid none of her charms, and the outline of her curves, the shadow between her thighs had his pulse doing erratic leapfrogs. Adjusting the dimmer of the overhead lights so he could feast on Jess’s responses and fine-tune his strategy, Devil circled her kneeling form. The fury he’d managed to dam detonated and erupted. Molten lava replaced his blood. He stood there inhaling liquid fire, repeating SEAL breathing exercises until he regained control, and assumed his dom mode. “I didn’t agree to this.” Her voice wavered, but she lifted her chin in defiance. “I agreed to a blowjob.” Devil pulled the auction card from the envelope and read, “One blowjob in a private room. Condom mandatory. Touching only on my part.” She exhaled, her uneven breathing a sonata to his ears. “That’s right. Exactly right.” He pulled out his switchblade, slit her robe down the middle, and stifled a hiss as the material parted to reveal creamy skin, the swells of her breasts, a flat belly he dreamed of, pale golden curls framing the treasure between slender thighs. Squatting so their faces were level, he drank in the sight of her: the long, elegant neck, the delicate line of her jaw, the cock-stiffening perfume peculiar only to this woman. A finger’s width separated their noses. Devil knew she felt his closeness, waited for him to respond, and he let the silence stretch, relishing the short puffs of minty breath escaping her pouting mouth. “What are you doing?” She tugged furiously at the silk bonds holding her arms wide. “I demand a witness. I’m allowed that. Those are the rules.” “This is what you didn’t specify. Clothing, position, restraints.” Devil checked his watch. “Forty-five seconds have elapsed. I can keep you here as long as I want until I come in your mouth, latex covered as specified.”


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She’d lost all color, and those porn-fantasy lips he lusted after quivered. When she opened her mouth, he said, “Listen carefully because there are two ways this can go down.” Cutting the sleeves of the robe, he continued, “I can hold you to the literal translation of the card. You can invite a witness to make me adhere to the rules.” What remained of the robe floated to the floor. Jess shivered; her nipples were a shade darker than her rose lips, and they pearled and puckered. A shudder racked through him. He sat back on his heels, and the leather pants squeezed his cock and testicles harder than any vise he’d ever tried. Devil closed his eyes, went through the SEAL breathing sequence yet again until blood flow restored baseline brain functions. Stick to the plan. “I can and will keep you here for the rest of the night. I don’t have to let you out of this room until I get what I paid five thousand dollars for. A blowjob. I can go for hours without coming.” Her sinful mouth tightened into a pucker. She snorted. “And the other way?” “One fifteen-minute session in this position. My mouth and tongue only.” She shook her head so hard he heard her neck crick. “No.” “Your choice.” He reached for one of the foil packets strategically stored in an alcove in the wall. When he tore the wrapping, she said, her voice two pitches higher than normal, “I’ll take the fifteen minutes if you agree to above the waist.” Devil’s watering mouth protested with a surge of bitter saliva. “Don’t jump to conclusions.” Demon’s words sledgehammered in his brain, battering the wall of icy rage he needed to execute his plan. “Pleas—” A half sob choked off the whispered entreaty. Fuck, he couldn’t do this. War had taught him the nauseous musk of fear, and it washed off her in droves. Her vulnerability eroded the tattered remnants of his wrath; he bowed his head.

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“Above the waist only.” A hissed sigh escaped her lips. He glanced up, and his ribs felt like they did after a UFC round with Demon—bruised, aching. Her shoulders had slumped as far as the silk restraints allowed. One orgasm and he’d let her go. The leather bit into his groin. He unbuttoned the pants and lowered the zipper, freeing his rampant erection, and adjusted his stones out of the hide. Her quadriceps contracted, and he admired the sweet curve leading to the ridge of her rump where tanned golden flesh met white, before getting on his knees. Unable to resist a second longer the call of her swan’s neck, he locked his arms behind his back and nuzzled the crook. She smelled like heaven, hell, and purgatory all rolled into one. He suckled his way up her neck, and when she arched to one side, his balls cramped high and tight. Never had he encountered such soft, supple flesh, the texture smooth to the rough surface of his tongue, the contact exquisite, delicious torment. The blindfold hid her ears, not even the plump lobe available for teasing, tasting, so he trailed hot, wet kisses along the ridge of her jaw. His nose was in paradise, brushing the silk of her skin, savoring the deepening spice of her woman’s perfume. He flicked the corner of her mouth, outlined her top lip, ran a wet caress over the seam, and his dick jerked and twitched when her breathing hitched. A whiff of air from her parted mouth speared flames across the tip of his tongue. Devil needed no other invitation. He drew her bottom lip between his teeth and sawed. She gasped and leaned forward, opening for him. All sense of time and space vanished; only their fused mouths, melding tongues existed. She cloaked him, her aroma shrouding any other fragrance, buttressing the torture of teeth and taste. Her soft, irregular pants flared heat to his chin, the buzz of the slight scrape of his stubble on her flesh more arousing than the hottest phone sex in the universe. Every muscle in his body contracted, his ligaments strained, he fought for control, but when her little tongue slid over his and fluttered across his lips, his iron


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discipline melted under the blowtorch that was Jess. He tore his mouth from hers, latched on to her breast, and suckled, his desire at desperation DEFCON level. She arched and whimpered. His greedy mouth opened wider, taking in as much of her sweet flesh as he could. His linked elbows burned behind his back. His cock vibrated and shook, and the head flicked her skin, precum bursting with each twitch, each shuddering spasm. He moved to the other breast; semen raced to overfill his groin. He lapped at her taut nipple, his tongue so sensitive to her responses that he licked in time to her pulsing peak. “Ohhh.” The soft moan triggered the tsunami. Devil bit down on her nipple, she yelped, and her back bowed. Her breast filled his mouth as her body shook with the force of her orgasm. He went up in an inferno. His arms whipped free and locked around her. He feasted on her mouth and ground his cock on her belly, jetting his load, slicking their bodies together. The soft plops and sucks continued as aftershocks hit them both, and still he couldn’t stop kissing her, squeezing one ass cheek, frantic to keep them skin to skin. She went limp and whimpered. Devil grabbed the switchblade from the floor and cut the silk bonds, tried to gather her in his arms, but she shoved him away. “Get off me. Get out. Get out.” Her fists pummeled his chest. Her hands went to the blindfold she wore. He lurched to his feet, stumbled across the room, stabbed in the code, vaulted through the entrance, and slammed the door shut. What the fuck have I done?

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Chapter Two It hadn’t been Dominix. Jess’s stomach lurched into her throat. She’d spent three entire nights tossing, turning, berating herself, and praying. Praying it hadn’t been Dominix in Bacchanal’s private room. Praying it had been Dominix in Bacchanal’s private room. Not knowing which would be worse, being turned on by a complete stranger or finally surrendering to her morbid Dominix fantasies. Though her Bacchanal escort had worn a mask, she’d glimpsed his hair, and those black locks plus his build and gait had convinced her he was Dominix. Until he spoke. Who was she kidding? Even after hearing his Texas twang, she’d held on to the forlorn hope that the stranger who’d brought her to the first explosive climax of her life had been the one man she’d been fantasizing about for over nine months. She couldn’t have been more wrong. For Dominix stood in the entrance to the Hades Squad’s conference room. And the shock of inky waves that had once brushed Dominix’s shoulders, blue-black locks that would’ve been effeminate on any other man, had been replaced by a buzz cut. Dominix Alexander Zubiri wore a buzz cut. Green couldn’t begin to describe the nauseous bile doing a jig in her gullet. How had he found out about the meeting? She had checked with Destiny, her best friend, to ensure Devil would be out of town before arranging this meeting. Jess


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glanced at the two Hades Squad members seated across the table. Both men looked as surprised as she felt. An impending sense of doom weighted her shoulders. She couldn’t keep her gaze off him. The buzz cut had sharpened his features and added a harshness that hadn’t been there before. A dangerous edge she wanted to ride more than ever. “See something you like?” Dominix’s menace-laced tone belied words she once would’ve interpreted as cocky and flirtatious. A tarantula pirouetted up her spine. For no devilish smile lifted the corners of his mouth, those onyx eyes didn’t glint with mischief, and he returned her stare with an intimidating intensity. “What the frick?” Lorcan McGillycuddy, aka Satan, president of the Hades Squad security firm, twisted to confront Dominix. “What are you doing here?” “The meeting was cancelled.” “Obviously.” Satan’s glance raked Dominix from head to toe. “Has hell frozen over? Did the poles reverse? Am I hallucinating?” “Nope. It’s Devil. In the flesh.” Sax Anders, the Hades Squad’s information specialist, shook his head and grinned. “Can’t be. His girlie hair’s gone.” Satan rolled his eyes. How could such an austere style serve only to enhance Dominix’s wicked allure? Jess refrained from banging her head on the table. Ever since her parents’ death decades ago, she’d been relentless, ambitious, and industrious in her pursuit of one goal: self-reliance. No man is an island, but the woman she’d become was one. She ran her own business, towed the social morality line to keep the client roster satisfied, and avoided emotional entanglements. If it hadn’t been necessary to ply the New York social scene for her business, Jess wouldn’t have made the effort to date.

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She’d tried sex. The smells and sweat of intercourse offended her nostrils, the conversations necessary afterward proved awkward, and for the life of her, she couldn’t understand the feminine need to cuddle. Being celibate proved less stressful. It wasn’t as if she had a high sex drive; her vibrator went unused for months at a time. It had all been working perfectly. Her carefully crafted solid-and-dependable-girl-next-door reputation kept even the most ardent males at arm’s length. Then she’d met Dominix, and in less than nine seconds, any illusion of normality had been shattered. One night. One meeting. One dance. Poof! “No way he’d cut his hair voluntarily.” Satan studied Devil and then shook his head. “Payback? A jealous husband?” A tiny unladylike snort escaped her nostrils. Dominix’s screw ’em and lose ’em philosophy meant oodles of jealous husbands existed. “No obvious bruises, so he wasn’t ambushed.” Sax crossed his arms and lifted one gold-dusted brow. “Did you know that shaving the head is a common sign of grieving for the dead?” “Fuck off, Lucifer.” Each member of the Hades Squad had hell-themed nicknames, and Sax went by the moniker “Lucifer.” “No one dead, then?” Devil fixed Lucifer with a glare designed to reduce him to ashes. “I’ll take that as a no.” “Any fucking reason I’m not invited to the party?” Arms akimbo, hips canted, Devil panned the room, doing a pin-the-butterfly-wings-to-the-board scrutiny of his teammates.


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“Clean up your language,” Satan snapped. “And no, you’re not invited.” “Tough.” Devil jerked a chair back, dropped onto the squeak-protesting leather seat, and braced his elbows on the table. Jess slid him an under-the-lids peek only to shudder when she met his piercing glower. Angry aggression lasered from his narrowed eyes. His forward posture, the way he maximized his body print, taking up as much space as possible with his arms angled to the table’s edge, spiked goose bumps on her arms and neck. “Why are you here, Jess?” Devil leaned closer. Flinching, she shifted away, her rear end sliding off the edge of the chair. She focused on Satan. “I don’t want Dominix involved.” The door banged open. She didn’t know the man standing in the doorway. His bulk, military stance, the way he cocked his head, and the three lines of a tattoo doing a hide-and-seek with his black T-shirt slithered a slimy sensation across her nape. While he didn’t look familiar, his carriage and enormous build reminded her of someone. And his mouth with the sneer at one end triggered a memory. No. It couldn’t be. This was not the man who’d won her at the auction. The man took one look at her, his jaw dropped, and he blurted, “Oh shit.” That voice. The three-pronged fork tat on his bicep. It couldn’t be. An invisible force vaporized all the breathable air. The room did a carouselrun-amok series of endless spins. Her vision blurred, bitterness coated her tongue, and the double espresso she’d drunk earlier puddled at the back of her throat.

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It hadn’t been Dominix in Bacchanal’s private room. For there in the doorway loomed the man who’d won her in the auction. She cupped a hand over her mouth, lurched to her feet, and raced for the bathroom. The man jumped out of her way and blurted, “It was Dominix, not me. He took my place. He rigged the whole auction.” After she’d emptied her stomach and washed up, the words boomeranged in her head. She leaned on the bathroom counter when her knees went weak. Relief had her sagging, and that wouldn’t do. Checking her reflection, she tidied her hair, pinched her cheeks, squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and opened the door. Walking the plank couldn’t have been worse than the long journey down the narrow hallway. The deafening thumping of her heart hammered away rational thought. Calling on the years spent hiding any show of emotion from the greataunts who’d raised her, Jess schooled her features into a calm, placid mask. She glanced neither right nor left, entered the Hades Squad conference room, focused on the far wall, and strolled around the oval table. Taking her seat with all the dignity she could muster, Jess inhaled before looking directly at Satan. “I apologize for keeping you waiting. A momentary stomach upset.” “Pack up, Jessica.” Devil’s tone didn’t brook any argument. Her peripheral glance caught him addressing Lucifer and Satan and the man who’d won her in the auction. “Meeting’s adjourned.” Jess gripped the chair’s arms, her nails digging grooves in the upholstery. Shallow breaths. Don’t look at Dominix. Don’t remember the feel of his tongue, the pull of his mouth. Think of Aung. Aung. Missing at least twenty-five days.


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It took less than a minute, but the seconds ticked by on a Galapagos-evolution scale. All her senses heightened. Brakes squealed on an adjacent road. Dominix’s musk and patchouli aftershave crowded her nose. Her reflection in the burnished surface of the mahogany mirrored her feelings—jagged, distorted, blended. Hire someone else. She latched on to the idea and said, avoiding everyone’s eyes, “Actually, now that I think of it, perhaps it would be better if I took my business elsewhere.” “Not so fast.” Satan stood. “Jess, look at me.” Lifting her lids, she met his gaze. “I don’t know what in frick’s going on with you three.” His scrutiny pinned her, the hulk now seated to the left of Lucifer, and then Dominix. “And I’m damned certain I don’t want to know.” “You can fucking count on that.” “Shut your trap, Devil, and stop with the cussing. Jess has a problem, and not five minutes ago, I accepted her as a client. I’m the lead. Lucifer is my backup. That means whatever you have to say to her, you say in front of me. No exceptions.” Devil sprang out of the chair, kicking it into the wall. He leaned forward, meeting Satan nose to nose. “She’s my woman. Back off.” Satan’s stare didn’t waver. Without glancing at her, he growled, “Doesn’t look like it from here. Jess?” Until that moment, she hadn’t known testosterone had a distinctive aroma, a heavy, pungent spice not unlike a postcoital bouquet in too-close quarters. Her temples throbbed. Fatigue vacuumed the oxygen from her red blood cells and dissolved the tattered remnants of her resistance. Defeat had her slumping against the chair back. “Tell him. Tell Devil.” His eyes narrowed at her deliberate use of his nickname. The fact that she had never called him anything but Dominix spoke volumes. “Sit.” Satan’s commander-in-chief order met no opposition from Devil.

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The male from the auction cleared his throat. All attention swung to him. Satan footed his chair open, sat down, then glanced at Demon and then Jess. “I don’t believe you two know each other.” Oh yeah? A hysterical snicker escaped her lips. “I’m Demon.” The man who’d bid five thousand dollars for a blowjob shot her a sheepish grimace and shrugged. “I’m guessing I owe you an apology.” Flames of mortification chased Jess’s throat and face as she recalled the details of Demon ordering her to kneel, the blindfold, the silk bonds. Stop. Stop. Don’t go there. How dare Dominix—no, Devil—humiliate her like that? Resentment and a slow burn fused. She straightened, and her eyes narrowed on Demon. If a gaze could impale, she willed hers to spear him to the quick. “An apology’s not going to cut it.” Demon had the grace to blush. “Name your terms.” “Settle whatever’s going on later. Lucifer and I have a meeting. I want this wrapped and stowed in twenty.” Satan jerked his chin at Lucifer. “SITREP.” It took her a minute to translate the military term, SITuation REPort. “Jess mentors a journalism student, one Aung Khi, whose family is in Bynamar. They meet every other week on Thursdays and have dinner together. Two weeks ago, Aung failed to show. Jess didn’t become concerned at first. Then she received an e-mail from Aung saying she had had to return home. That’s as far as we got before we were, as the saying goes, so rudely interrupted.” Devil opened his mouth. Satan quelled him with his famed don’t-even-think-it glower. “Continue, Jess.” She took a deep breath and gathered what remained of her shattered thoughts. “Aung rents a basement apartment from an elderly, somewhat forgetful landlady. When I couldn’t get ahold of Aung, I phoned her landlady. Turns out the last time


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the landlady saw Aung was the Thursday morning of our regular dinner. That morning, Aung broke her lease and forfeited her deposit.” Lucifer rested his elbows on the table. “I’m guessing Aung, like most college students, stretches every penny?” “Yes. Aung sends every spare dollar she has back to her parents. And before you ask, I have no idea how to contact them.” “Bynamar’s on the watch list. Is she here on a scholarship?” Lucifer leaned back in his chair. She nodded. “Watch list?” “Countries that harbor terrorists, promote human and drug trafficking,” Lucifer replied. “Okay, she’s on a scholarship and she had to go back to her country. What’s wrong in the picture? That’s why you’re here, I take it?” “Yes. A few months ago, I hired Aung on a part-time basis to do fact-checking and research for my clients. She was in the middle of several projects. I’ve known her for eighteen months. She would never leave me hanging. Her e-mail’s not working. Her Skype’s not working. Neither are her Facebook or Twitter IDs.” “Is that it?” “No. I’ll be succinct. I spoke to the landlady in person. She said that after Aung broke her lease, one Acme Moving truck appeared and two men emptied the apartment. There are six Acme Moving companies in Brooklyn. I checked each one, even met the owner of one at a Starbucks one night—” “Now that is odd. How did that come about?” “Isn’t it obvious, Luce? Some stud took one look at her and made a play. Couldn’t resist playing detective, Jess?” She sent Devil a glare. “There’s more. Aung and a classmate have been dating. I checked around campus. Several students remember seeing the two of them together, but no one’s seen him since that Thursday. It can’t be a coincidence, him going missing the same time as Aung.”

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Heat swarmed across her face. She inhaled deeply, fished the USB from her pocket, and set it on the table. “I went back to her apartment and told the landlady that I needed to look for something I’d loaned Aung. The landlady let me into Aung’s apartment, and I searched it thoroughly. I found this USB taped behind the bathroom mirror.” “You searched behind the bathroom mirror?” Satan’s eyebrows climbed. “It was one of those foldout things for shaving. Very accidental, I assure you. Anyway what’s on it is why I’m here. That and the fact that someone tried to shove me into a car last night.” Devil’s fists hit the table when he vaulted to his feet. “Stand down.” Satan and Devil locked gazes. Jess glanced from one man to the other, certain she’d see a spontaneous combustion. Devil blinked but sat down, arms folded, nose quivering. “Finish, Jess.” Grateful to concentrate on anything but Devil, Jess complied with Satan’s order. “Aung kept a diary of sorts on the USB. She’s been frequenting a sex club called Bacchanal.” Her cheeks heated; she didn’t know if Satan knew the club. “I know it. Continue.” Well, that answered that question. “She has a list of suspects who frequent Bacchanal. That’s the actual heading of the Excel column, suspects. Tron. Han.” “Suspects? That’s all—a spreadsheet with a column headed suspects?” Lucifer asked. “No, there are other files of the research she was doing. And some others that are all about human trafficking and Bynamar. I figure she was investigating these men on her own.” Devil hissed. “Get to what happened last night.”


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She swallowed. “I went to a dinner party. I was walking to my car. An SUV screeched to a halt beside me. Some man jumped out and tried to shove me into the car. Luckily for me, New York’s finest happened to be patrolling. The SUV took off. The cops escorted me home.” “What the fuck were you thinking?” Devil shot to his feet; the beleaguered chair tipped, then righted. She jumped and scooted her wheeled seat away from the table. “Dominix.” In the nine months Jess’d known the Hades Squad, never had she heard them address each other by their real names. Astonished and totally daunted, she braved a glance at Satan. Whoa! He hadn’t moved so much as a pinky, yet his absolute stillness screamed of a scalding reprimand. Lucifer and Demon appeared as flabbergasted as she felt. Their jaws dropped, brows skimming hairlines. Satan and Devil stared each other down, their stances reminding Jess of every documentary she’d ever seen on male lions in a pride. Devil snarled something indecipherable. The crack of his teeth snapping together boomed in the sudden silence. If she hadn’t been studying him intently, Jess would’ve missed his chin dipping, the movement slight, imperceptible. Her shoulders slumped, the relief from the palpable tension so great she couldn’t choke back an audible exhale. The momentary reprieve evaporated when Satan trained his complete attention on her. She hunched at the fierce expression he wore. “Tempted as I am to detail the stupidity of you investigating Aung’s disappearance on your own, I simply don’t have the time at the moment. Two questions. Did you actually go to Bacchanal? And did you approach any of the suspects?”

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“Yes to both. I’ve been going for the last three Saturdays. But I wore a wig, and I didn’t use my real name.” Devil hissed again. Jess refused to look at any of them. “I could shake the stuffing out of you right now, Jessica Blaine.” Satan didn’t bother to disguise his anger. “That was a stupid move. Suffice it to say, you put yourself in danger. Aung’s disappeared. Someone tried to kidnap you. I don’t want you returning to your condo or office until we get a handle on the situation.” “I work from home, and I have a full week. Clients who’re depending on me—” She made the mistake of meeting Satan’s stare, and her vocal cords sizzled to a crisp. “Tough. Make a few phone calls. Rearrange the rest of the week. You hired us, and you’ll take our advice. Your safety is paramount. You with me?” Satan’s hawklike scowl had her insides quailing. She nodded. “Demon, you take Bacchanal and the moving companies. Lucifer, the Bynamar embassy and the college. Devil, dissect that USB. We’ll meet again tomorrow. I’ll email the time and place.” Swinging to face Devil, Satan growled, “She’s in your charge until further notice.” The very last words Jess wanted to hear. Within minutes, the room cleared, leaving her and Devil alone. He hadn’t glanced her way once after Satan pronounced his verdict. The threatening headache erupted. Elbows resting on the table, Jess knuckled her temples, longing for nothing more than a hot soak and a warm bed.

*** She didn’t ask where they were going, never uttered a word when Devil bundled her into his pickup. Didn’t protest when he belted her in, and avoided looking at him.


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Instead she studied the shrubs and grasses whizzing by, trying to ignore his even breathing, and stifled a flinch each time he shifted gear or stepped on the brake. Her mind numb, brain in a purgatorial paralysis, Jess couldn’t form a thought, far less a coherent sentence. The truck halted. She looked through the windshield and blinked when the evening stars twinkled above the horizon. Night had fallen? “Where are we?” “My house.” A copse of thick trees circled the log dwelling in front of the vehicle. The moon hadn’t risen, city lights had long vanished, and Jess couldn’t discern the shape of the building. Rain must have fallen earlier, for the earthy smell of leaves and spattered dirt rose from the steaming gravel driveway. He hopped out of the cab, slammed the driver door, and in less than five seconds had her door open. “Dominix—” “Devil, Jess. I’m in no mood for Dominix.” “What does that mean?” “Fuck if I know. Grab your purse and briefcase.” When she obeyed his order, he reached over, unsnapped the seat belt, and hauled her high against his chest. Jess closed her eyes and surrendered to the inevitable. “How hungry are you?” Somewhere along the line, she’d detached from the consequences of being alone with him and what would inevitably happen. The battle not to succumb to Devil, not to yield to her dark fantasies, was over. For tonight. “I can wait.” He stepped onto the landing.

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Two spotlights spewed brilliance on them. Lashes fluttering away the radiant dazzle, she missed him opening and closing the door. With each stride he took, the interior of the dwelling brightened as if a dimmer turned. The soft amber glow revealed a square room sparsely furnished. She glimpsed a couch, a dining table, a counter, bar stools, and the most beautiful medieval-style fireplace she’d ever seen. “Last call. I can order something.” Leashed violence radiated from him in heat waves. Devil. Dominix. Which one was he? “I want to shower first.” He skidded to a stop. Nudged her chin with his fist. Squinted, then stared right into her eyes, his jaw tight, his mouth turned down. “Just like that?” All the unasked questions between them dangled and jumbled. Why had she avoided him if bondage turned her on? Not once since they’d met had he hidden his dom side. Had she deliberately misled him? Why? “Fuck if I know.” His earlier words did a plinking boomerang. Averting her gaze, she rolled a shoulder. Don’t go there. One night of indulgence. One night to get everything out of her system, then back to the norm. The instant decision after so many months of waffling had her confidence soaring. The urge to tease him, keep him off-kilter, mess with his mind the way he had hers, sucked long-buried feminine wiles to the surface.


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“Why fight it?” She licked the flesh bared by his open shirt. “You. Me. Alone. It’s inevitable. Isn’t it?” He snorted. “And then some.” Lord, he smelled like all her fantasies rolled into one. His rasped inhale when she grazed her teeth over his chest zinged her clit. The slow furling of her nipples magnified the sparks tindering her skin a zillionfold. “Witch.” He cradled her jaw and sucked her bottom lip. Eyes wide open, he nipped the tip of her tongue, studying her the way any predator does his intended victim. Her vagina fisted. Pain. Pleasure. The flutter of his exhale amplified the tingling electricity crackling her inside out. She didn’t want any foreplay, wanted what she’d fantasized about for nine long months, him inside her, hard and fast, hammering her G-spot, slamming her clit. A moan she couldn’t smother surfaced. “That’s it.” He jerked back, face flushed, pupils so dilated she couldn’t discern his irises. “This is going to go down fast. First few times, anyway. I’ve wanted in you for too long.” Her grip on the bulging steel of his biceps firmed. Her pussy throbbed, the rapid clench and pull of inner muscles flooding cream to labia swollen and sensitized and burning with need. “Me too.” No way could she prevent the admission, not even if a killer had a gun held to her temple. “Fuck.” He shifted her in his arms and halted. Only then did she realize he’d stopped at sliding glass doors. The beauty of the vista beyond constricted her chest.

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An eternity pool blended into the rippling waters of a wide, half-circle bay. A full moon drifted above the line of a bobbing horizon, shedding a pixie-dust luminescence over an undulating ocean. When he slid open the doors, the wet-foliage aroma of fall teased a ruffling wind, the branches of a willow swept a graceful arc, and the low hoot of an owl drowned a cicada chorus. A gust fanned strands of hair across her cheeks. Devil tucked the errant strands behind her ear, the caress blazing like a lit fuse racing to explosion. He set Jess down, her knees wavered, she grabbed his shoulders, and he hauled her tight to him. She heard his jerky inhale. “The condoms are inside.” He traced the whorls of her ear. “Fuck if I can let you go.” She’d collapse if not for his arms holding her up. “Don’t need them. I have an implant.” I’m crazy. Insane. He screws like a tomcat. “I’m clean. You don’t have to worry. I’d never lie about something so serious.” He looked like a coiled tiger ready to strike, leashed and waiting for her response. “If you’d be more comfortable, I’ll wear a rubber anyway.” “No. I’m glad you’re clean. I don’t want anything between us.” His stare went feral. “If you fucking move an inch, I’m gonna detonate.” “I want you inside me. I want to feel—” Flash Gordon didn’t have spit on Devil. He shed clothes in a flurry of motion. A sudden breeze kicked ass, whooping in six different directions in a heartbeat. Only when a blast tangled a branch between her feet did Jess realize Devil had divested himself of his shoes and clothing. Fifteen seconds later and she wore not a stitch.


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“Gonna have to ditch the heels. Too dangerous.” Dropping to one knee, he unbuckled first one strappy stiletto, then the other. His nose brushed her pubic hairs when he stood; her pussy tightened and creamed. Not more than three inches separated their naked bodies. The fist of winter’s icy fingers slid across her naked bottom and rolled over each vertebra. But not an inch of her felt the chill, for the incinerating hunger blazing from Devil’s black eyes heated her to a crisp. Every woman she knew compared him to a Greek god. Never had he looked more like his namesake, the devil, than at that moment. Bathed in the moon’s sparkle, his shimmering skin stretched tight over the arrogant planes and angles of his face, he exuded a raw sexual magnetism that had her heart battering her ribs. When he stepped forward and scooped her into his embrace, Jess glimpsed his massive cock and her jaw dropped. A desire-heightening fear struck straight to her core. “Loop your arms around my neck.” His hoarse command demanded instant obedience. Their gazes locked. Cupping her ass, he shifted until her legs straddled his waist. He hooked his elbows under her knees. She linked her fingers behind his nape and leaned back. Fever blistered her veins, the need to burn this moment in her mind forever uncontainable. The head of his cock was more than half the size of her fisted hand. She sucked in a deep breath when he rubbed his thick, throbbing length through her slick folds. He teased her without mercy, sliding in short, rough strokes, the veins of his cock bulging, sticky moisture leaking from the glistening slit onto her belly. Water lapped her thighs as he walked into the pool and sat on the last step. The warm liquid surfed her sex, magnified his engorged balls and fat prick, and a

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sweet terror rode her desire higher. He bent to her breast and suckled, his mouth covering the pink circle framing her nipple. Her internal muscles quivered. The climax roved upward, climbing from her curling toes in slow, incendiary increments. His teeth clamped hard on her nipple, she shuddered, and the orgasm beat a tentative retreat. He lifted his head, and the widening and thinning of his nose, the up-from-under stare he shot her, spiked the clenching and jerking of her pussy into a rapid staccato. One large palm tilted her sex higher; cool air met her burning labia. The contrasts, dry, wet, cool, fevered; the visual, her rosy swollen folds, his purpled crown; the anticipation as his penis slid closer and closer drained every thought from her agitated brain. “Look at me.” Their eyes met. She screamed when he plunged into her, the invasion painful ecstasy, and the orgasm erupted. A long volcanic burst that blindsided every sense. The convulsions went on forever. Spasm after spasm racked through her with his every upward thrust, his cock—the battering ram—hammering her inhibitions to smithereens. She bit his shoulder, dug her nails into his sweat-sheened back, met him move for move, canting her pelvis to grind on his groin. He arched, lifting off the step, one hand supporting her back, the other reaching between them to graze her clit. Her flesh so swollen, so oversensitized, that the caress felt like a fiery pinch. Jess went rigid, then exploded when the hot jet of his sperm filled her. She milked him, her muscles clenching his thickness, the heat of him, the size of him almost too much to bear. She didn’t know how long they sat there, holding each other, the warm waters of the pool swirling around their joined bodies. Didn’t realize she’d subconsciously adjusted her breathing to match his until she no longer heard his rasped inhales. Strangely content even though she’d lost the Devil lust battle, Jess rested her cheek


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in the crook of his neck. For the first time, the smell of sex, that postcoital, pungent musk, didn’t make her want to gag. In the distance, a choppy current caught the moon’s brilliance. A dazzling silver ribbon dissected the troughs and crests of thousands of waves. Stars littered the sky above the horizon, their diamond-bright twinkling the basis for the fairytale enchantment stealing through her brain. The wind had died. The rustling of leaves and branches no longer muffled night sounds. Cicadas conversed, wings fluttered, and seagulls called to each other. The balm of his body, the snugness of his embrace, their joined flesh, the music of the evening kept her welling emotions at bay. She refused to let the world seep into the magic they’d created. “Jess?” He stroked her spine. “Don’t.” She buried her face in his damp chest hairs, enjoying the slight tickling sensation. “Don’t what?” He was still thick and hard inside her, and he sounded annoyed. “Talk.” When he drew back and forced her chin up, she frowned. “Don’t for a second think that this is a one-and-done event.” What? Her eyes narrowed, but she knew better than to speak. “Oh yeah, I can see that Machiavellian mind working. Fuck him and get him out of your system. Ain’t working that way, Jessica.” He knew she disliked being called Jessica. And how in heck had he guessed her plan? “Really?” She clenched her jaw muscles and sat back, hands clamped on her hip bones. “First of all, there isn’t anything to work. Second, if there was, you don’t get to set the rules.” He framed her cheeks with his hands.

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A series of tremors crawled around her belly, and she wanted to swallow but couldn’t risk choking. The slow, insidious smile that spread across his face turned the tremors into quakes. But the fear was delicious, the kind of belly flutters being at the top of a roller coaster incited. That hanging-off-the-edge-and-holding-yourbreath spike of excitement before the wild plummet she both loved and hated. “I am so going to enjoy proving you wrong on every count.”


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Chapter Three “You’re mine, Jess. For the duration. Get used to it.” Her pussy tightened around his dick, and he was ready again. Damn. She made mincemeat out of his mind and a monster out of his cock. Devil fought to control his breathing and reel in his lust intoxication to no avail. He groaned and rested his forehead on hers. “You fucking enjoyed every second. You can’t deny it.” She went from rigid to limp and buried her face against his shoulder. “No. I can’t deny it.” Her admission surprised the bejesus out of him, and his inner warrior crowed though he maintained a calm facade. He liked her like this, relaxed in his arms, trusting his embrace. And liked even more that soft, hesitant admittance, but he wanted more, wanted to hear her say she loved having him inside her. Her lips brushed the tip of his nipple, and an electric charge reminiscent of a static crackle burst through his groin. He wrestled his surging desire into lockdown and concentrated on soothing caresses, running his hand up and down her spine, combing her hair. She repeated the tentative kiss, and he surrendered. Cradling her jaw, he kissed the corner of one eye and thumbed her chin so their gazes met. “I’m ready again. You up for it?” Desire had glints of yellow dusting pupils rounded and large and haloed by a thin rim of baby blue. A slight I’m-all-mysterious-woman smile curled her lips, and she held his stare and nodded.

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Cock and balls took that like a flag dropping at the Indy 500. He palmed her bottom cheeks and rose. Water sluiced off his legs and ass, and she shivered as a cool draft circled the pool. “Let’s get you inside and warmed up.” Walking while lodged thick and erect to jetting inside Jess’s quivering pussy almost undid him. His testicles rode so hard and high against his pubes he near shot his load on ascending the two steps to enter the cottage. Jess must have felt his dick engorging, for she convulsed around him and bit his shoulder. No way was this time going to be a wham bang like the first. Devil dropped onto the couch, fumbled for the blanket, and tucked the chenille fabric around her body. He should do things. Light a fire. Order food. Offer her a glass of wine. “You have the most tempting neck in the world,” he murmured, stroking from the base to her chin. “When I sit next to you in meetings, I have to force myself not to sniff your nape.” Nuzzling the base of her throat, he continued. “Or set my mouth right here. Rest my tongue on your pulse. Feel your heart beat in time to mine.” He suckled the spot, swirled gentle licks around the throbbing lifeline, and then let his teeth follow the curve of her collarbone. When he reached that sweet hollow where shoulder and neck met, she grabbed his shoulders and muttered something. Her pussy spasmed around his cock, and he stifled a groan. “Dominix.” Her voice was coarse and passion-laced, and that evidence of her desire had him on fast-forward in an instant. “What, babe?” He raised his head so their noses near grazed. “What?” “Don’t be gentle with me. Not this time.” She had to say that. Cupping her face, he growled, “Once I start fucking you, I’m not going to stop until you call a halt. You understand, Jess?” “Yes.” She rested her hands on his chest and pushed back. Her breasts were at mouth level. Pink nipples, pink areolae. He didn’t even try to resist, but set to suckling and lapping like a crazed addict. He tongued the taut


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buds, nipping the tips, his dick flexing with each whimpered mewl, the sexy sound fueling his need for frenzy. “I’ve dreamed of these.” He palmed the uptilted mounds, scraping the undersides with the tips of his nails. “So fucking pretty. I bet your pussy’s just as pretty. All pink and blonde. Mine. All fucking mine.” “Not.” Her pants came rasped and fast, the hot air fluttering his cheek, fanning the pace of his slow licking. Her fingers dug into the back of his head when he lifted away from her wet breasts and glistening nipples. “Don’t. Stop.” Her long legs wrapped around his hips. The blanket fell away, leaving her glorious, naked body for his feasting. He rocked into her, closing his eyes and savoring the pussy tremors sucking at his cock. “Oh lordy.” She arched, and he sank deeper, loosened his hold on her back, and slipped his hand between them, delving his fingers between the plump, slick labia. She shuddered when he thumbed her clit, and dug grooves into his shoulders. “So pretty.” If there was an Uzi pointed at his head, he couldn’t have dragged his gaze away from the sight of his dick enveloped in her pussy. Intoxicated but focused, he played with her folds, using his elbow to nudge her thighs farther apart. A nipple brushed his cheek, and he latched on to it, greedy to memorize the taste, the feel of her, to know her with his tongue, nose, hands. He brought his knees up and pushed her back onto his thighs, widening the spread of her legs. “Look at us, Jess. Look at my cock in your pussy.” He tweaked one nipple and thumbed the hood hiding her clit. “Please.” Her bottom lifted, his prick hit the soft clump of nerves just inside her vagina, and she hissed, long nails scratching his forearms. Devil smiled when he felt the trembling vibrations. The quick clenching and jerking of her walls accelerated, and she leaned forward and rested her palms on his belly. His grin went supernova, and he stared at her, memorizing her glazed expression, lips swollen and shiny, and the patina of sweat glistening on her creamy

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flesh. He slowed the circling of her clit and reversed direction. Her glance shot to his, mouth mulish. “Not yet.” By God, she responded as if she were made for him and him alone. Her chin jutted; she raised off him, then sank back down and let out a long sigh on a low whimper. “That’s it. Ride me.” He caressed her breasts and plucked her nipples in a slomo teasing that had her whimpering. He pushed forward and drew one pebbled tip into his mouth. She gasped when he thrust upward as she sank down. He nibbled and lapped at one rosy bud while tweaking the other. Her pace quickened, her breathing went haywire, and she rode him like a bronco to be broken—fast up and down, furious side-to-side squirms, all the while muttering, “Beast, let me. Stop that. Oh no. Don’t stop.” Her eyes crossed. She yelped when he took each taut peak between thumbs and forefingers and pinched, bearing down, increasing the pressure, all the while watching, waiting until she gripped his shoulders and shuddered, head thrown back, neck arched, teeth clamped on her full bottom lip. The contractions took him by surprise. He’d expected a slow slide, but she came like a roller coaster doing a three sixty, swallowing him whole and milking every drop of sperm from his cock. In the back of his mind, he absorbed her collapsing on him, and tightened his embrace. Content, he savored the feel of her breasts and nipples crushed to his chest. When her slim arms curved around his lower back, he buried his nose in her hair and inhaled. Tracing the nodes of her tailbone, he tried but failed to pinpoint the fragrance coating her silky locks. Not lemon but a spicy, clean, and refreshing perfume with a zing that tempted his prick into a vagina-encased version of a bump and grind. An image of her in the auction robe reared, but he refused to allow the real-world distraction, too content to delve into the whys and wheres of her, Bacchanal, Aung, Han, and Tron, wanting to stretch this small slice of heaven for as long as he could.


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She snuggled closer and dropped a light kiss on his sternum. His stomach caved at the tenderness of the caress, and he wanted to believe in happy ever after. But he knew better. Devil splayed his fingers, found the edge of the throw, and drew the petal-soft cotton over her shoulders. Beneath the cozy blanket, he trailed his hand up and down her vertebrae and skimmed the dimples above her saucy rump. Neither spoke for a long time. Low nocturnal music played in the background. The soft murmur of the sea lapping the rocky beach, the occasional swish of the willow’s branches rustling a leaf carpet, the high-pitched calls of crickets, and the low belching of frogs arguing territorial borders. Letting out a long sigh when his dick softened a tad, wishing he’d thought to wear a cock ring, he didn’t object when she rested her chin on his chest and looked up at him. Her blonde hair swung with the movement, brushing the nape exposed when the blanket slipped. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” He tucked her hair behind her ear. Avoiding her glance, he arranged her locks symmetrically, liking the vulnerability of her bared face—no shadows to hide her expression from him. “Ten to one you’re composing every argument under the sun why this shouldn’t happen again.” “You know it shouldn’t.” But not a smidgen of regret showed in her expression. Nah, she wore a dreamy, half-lidded siren smile that would make even a wuss howl his manly vigor. “You know it will.” He touched the tip of her nose and locked their gazes together. “Why? Why have you fought us for so long? Because of the lifestyle? You got off on being bound. Big-time.” “You can be such a moron.” Her wry smile reflected in her eyes, and the mischievous curling of her lips gentled the harshness of her words. “I’m not into the lifestyle, as you put it. I’ve worked too hard to be where I am to give over control to anyone.”

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“How do you know you’re not into it?” Don’t force the issue, jerk. Change the subject. Keep things cool. Distract her until she’s in way too deep. “Have I done anything to make you think I want to control you? Maybe all I want is for us to be together.” She snorted. The landline rang. He had the ring tuned to Belfry, and the clanging of Notre Dame’s bells had her jerking upright, head veering side to side in search of the source. “Satan’s ring. It’ll go to voice mail.” His prick finally went flaccid and slipped out of her slick center. Satan’s rumbling voice barely registered, and he didn’t bother to listen to the message. “Um. I need the bathroom.” Crap, she turned him inside out. The faint color staining her cheeks had him visualizing the rose of her pussy. Resisting the urge to carry her to the can, Devil knuckled her jaw. “Straight through the arch. Last door on the left. What do you feel like eating?” He suppressed a grin when she blinked and shook her head. That’s it, keep her off balance. Slide under her walls. “Seafood? Meat?” “You decide.” She made to lift off him and hesitated, slipping him a sideglance. “I don’t have a change of clothes.” “Wear mine.” His cock vaulted to attention, and it took everything he had to let his arms fall to the side. “Boxers, T-shirts, sweats in the dresser in the bedroom. I’m guessing you want a shower?” This time the rose skipped along the crests of her breasts and rolled like a lazy wave up her neck and across her face. Images of Jess wet and naked, water droplets pearling in her pale pubic curls, had his lungs working overtime. Her blush deepened. Devil couldn’t stop staring, couldn’t get the pictures out of his head. She lowered her gaze, and he reeled like he’d been dropkicked into next week.


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Focus. Act like you’re not obsessed. “Extra towels on the rack above the john. Soap, shampoo in the shower alcove. I’ll order in. Greek okay for you?” “Oh.” She smiled, and one brow quirked. “I’m a sucker for a Greek salad. All that feta. Yum.” He was too dazed to move when she hopped off him and the couch, taking the throw with her. He sat there, straining to catch a glimpse of her ass dimples, but she wound the fabric around her torso and blocked his view. He slumped. Man, was he fucking doomed. Devil lurched off the sofa, stumbled to the kitchen counter, and played Satan’s message. “All’s quiet on the western front. Lucifer’s doing his Internet magic. We’ll meet tomorrow at the office at ten. Text me the address of the party Jess went to. Suggest you drop Jess at Destiny and Sinner’s before coming in.” He erased the message, placed the food order, and headed to the cabana bath. Without a moment’s hesitation, he turned the showerhead to a pounding massage and let the water beat his muscles. He closed his eyes, pictured Jess’s face when she’d gotten off in the pool, and his hand moved automatically to his prick. She’d be finished showering by now. If he were with her, he’d lick her clean, slurp every last drop off her skin, suck off all the pearled beads clinging to her pubes. He’d come twice in less than three hours, yet the orgasm roared up from his balls, and it didn’t take more than five long pulls before he spent his load. Grabbing a spare pair of sweats after a minimal towel drying, he stepped into the worn cotton and wandered into the great room. The fireplace yawned at him, and he set about building a roaring blaze, envisioning him and Jess snuggling while he fed her hot chocolate. Between her pussy and his hand, he’d drained all the semen in his body. Maybe the blood flow to his brain had been restored in full, and he’d be able to strategize instead of focusing on getting inside her at every opportunity. The sound he’d been listening for had him giving the tentative flames licking at the logs one last prod. Setting the poker to lean against the quartz-dusted stone

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frame, he shot to his feet and had to pick his chops off the floor when Jess ambled through the archway. Shooting his wad ten minutes earlier didn’t fricking stop his dick from turning into a steel rod when Jess strolled in his direction wearing the black and red boxers Sinner’s sister had packed into his stocking last Christmas. She had on a loose black wifebeater that gaped and showcased pointing nipples with each step. He loved her addition of his unbuttoned white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. “Dominix. Don’t look at me like that.” She stopped toweling her damp hair and pointed at his groin. “Are you a sex addict or what? That can’t be normal.” The low-riding sweats did nothing to hide his bulging arousal. “Let’s skip the food and eat each other.” She let out a choked gurgle and slapped the towel at him. “Is that all you can think about?” “Pretty much. Are you sore? You’re very tight.” The riot of rosy hues blazing over every inch of exposed skin had him salivating. “I’m not promiscuous.” “Unlike me?” He shook his head. “Just because I like things on the kinky side doesn’t mean I’m a man slut. I want you, Jess. And once or twice or four dozen times ain’t gonna cut it.” Snorting when her jaw dropped and she hugged her arms, he continued. “I want to bury my head between your thighs. Coat my face in your juices. Tongue you into screaming, off-the-planet orgasms. All. Night. Long. I want to end the night inside of you. Wake up to your pussy milking my cock.” The towel in her grasp slipped to the floor before he finished speaking. Her throat worked. She stood there, fists clenched, chest heaving, nipples straining at the tank, her pupils dilated so wide he couldn’t see the blue for the black circles. “Okay.”


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His knees refused to stay locked, and he grabbed the stone mantel. Though he ordered his legs to function, to long jump the three feet separating them, his limbs wouldn’t cooperate. They stood there staring at each other, their panting loud in the quiet of the room, not moving an inch. A pink tongue snaked out to trace the open seam of her mouth. She swallowed. “I should warn you. I’m squeamish about body fluids and smells.” Not when I get done with you. His mouth went desert parched. Red Riding Hood’s wolf couldn’t have matched Devil’s beast grin. He stalked forward. A buzzing louder than a dozen electric saws working overtime rent the heavy tension. What the— Cupping her hands over her ears, Jess glanced at the door. Devil strangled the howl erupting from his mouth. He recognized the pattern of the buzzes. Demon spelling his name in Morse code. Only the doorbell’s insistent buzzing kept him from setting Jess on the kitchen counter, separating her thighs, and feverishly eating her pussy. He’d fucking kill Demon. Scowling at the double door, he stomped five paces, punched in the security code, and flung open one oak panel. “Greek.” Demon carried three white full-to-bursting bags. “Great choice. I’m starved. Hope you ordered the lamb dish. You owe me fifty.” “Spit whatever it is you have to say out and get going. Hand the food over.” Demon ducked under the arm Devil had blocking the doorway. A couple of foilwrapped ovals skittered to the floor. “Boss’s orders. Two guards; I’m the chaperone.” “Frick you are. Set the food down and do a vanishing act. Scram. You are not welcome.”

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“If you behave yourself, I’ll retire to the guest room over the garage after we eat.” Demon grabbed the two bread rolls, sauntered past Devil, and deposited the sacks on the kitchen counter. “Otherwise I’ll settle down in front of the fireplace. Take your pick.” Stifling a string of curses, Devil snarled, “Ten minutes. Stuff your face and then scram.” “A chaperone may not be a bad idea.” To the right, he glimpsed Jessica shuffling her bare feet. She liked the idea of a chaperone? What the hell had gotten into Satan? Devil couldn’t wait to plant his fists in his friend’s ugly mug. She cleared her throat. “I’m afraid I didn’t get your real name earlier.” Demon turned a nauseating shade of fuchsia. “Not necessary, ma’am. Demon’ll do fine.” “I don’t think so.” Jess folded her arms and shot Demon a Sunday-schoolteacher eyebrow quirk. “There’s a small matter of a groveling apology, which may just have to be strung out over the rest of your lifetime.” “Gimme three minutes and I’ll be out of your hair.” Demon emptied the bags as he spoke. “No need to go there. I’ll be gone in a flash.” Devil heard Jess’s halfhearted attempt to stifle her snicker. She winked at him and then assumed a scowl nasty enough to scare a hardened marine. One hand at her waist, she swung her hips and glided toward Demon, who backpedaled like a cartoon character. “Hmm, now how embarrassing can a first name be? Oh, but you’re a macho SEAL, aren’t you?” Demon snatched a container, scooped up the garlic loaf he’d unpacked, twisted in the opposite direction, and halted midstep. “Is the back door still bolted?” “Tracey?” Jess’s long stride consumed half the distance to the counter. “Leslie? Not something as cliché as Sue, surely?”


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Demon shot Devil an over-the-shoulder glance, and the sweat beading his forehead glistened under the track lighting. He spun around. Served Demon right. Devil guesstimated only two people on the planet were privy to Demon’s given names. “Percival?” Head cocked, she continued to advance. “Hmm. Maybe something Shakespearean? Romeo? Francis? Or something more blatant? Evelyn? Carrol?” Not able to contain his laughter, Devil chortled. “Do something.” Demon was running out of wiggle room, and he kept sweeping the front door longing glances in between pelting visual daggers Devil’s way. “I can’t leave. Satan’d have my hide. Call her off.” “You afraid of a woman?” Devil folded his arms and grinned, only to flinch when Jess directed a glare at him. “Forget I said that.” “Oh, for crying out loud.” Jess rolled her eyes. “You two are acting like toddlers.” And she didn’t know the half of it. The members of the Hades Squad settled their differences by going rounds with each other; the more heated the quarrel, the more dangerous the type of fighting. “Dominix, the food’s getting cold, and I’m starving.” She ambled to the counter, bent from the waist, lifted the lid of one container, and sniffed. “Lamb. Smells delish.” Devil licked his lips as the sweet crease where ass and leg joined winked at him when she leaned over and skimmed a finger over the top of the food. Noticing how low the boxers’ waistband hung on her hips, the skimpiness of his wifebeater, he scrambled for the chenille she’d draped on the couch. “You’re cold, babe,” he muttered as he tucked the fabric into a knotted-front shawl and dropped it over her head. “I’ll grab another blanket for your legs.” “Thanks. This is good.” “He doesn’t want me to ogle your gorgeous legs.”

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“Shut up and unload the food on the table, Demon, or I’ll spill your entire name.” Demon scurried back to the bags and dumped containers onto the granite. “Just remember I know where all your bodies are buried.” Jess shook her head, frowned at Devil, and then fixed her glance on Demon. “Don’t for a nanosecond think you’ve won. Either of you. Stop battering the food, Mister Demon Seed. Dominix, where are the plates? You, Demon Seed, get the cutlery and water glasses.” “We’re not eating in the TV room?” Demon had the pained look of a boy about to have his ears and face cleaned for Sunday lunch. “Why do we need plates? And cutlery? Sporks work good.” She straightened and sent a down-the-nose princess glower Demon’s way. “Civilized beings eat at a table. They converse. Talk to each other. Let’s get something straight. I didn’t ask to be here. But I am. And I refuse to gobble food from a plastic container.” Man, what had set her off? Devil checked Jess’s ears. No smoke trails. “Plates, knives, and forks, yes, ma’am.” Demon had nowhere left to go and had wedged his hips into a corner. “TV room has a table. They’re rerunning the hockey game at eleven.” Jess squelched the hopeful expression on Demon’s face with a raised brow. “Right. No game.” “Glasses and napkins. On the dining room table.” She pointed at said object. Apparently eating in the front of the TV rang the wrong bells for Jess. “Plates are to the right of the fridge.” One of Sinner’s sisters had given Devil a set for a housewarming present. And he had wine left over from the impromptu party, plus a few bottles from Satan’s collection. “White or red wine?” “What kind of white do you have?”


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He’d taken a wine-tasting course after meeting Jess in preparation for wooing and winning her to his bed. “Chardonnay, Sauvignon Blanc—” “That’s fine, thank you.” A shrill gust whistled through the narrow opening of the sliding glass doors. Jess shivered. He was by her side in a blink, plucking at the folded triangle and letting the fabric fall to her knees. “I’ll grab you a pair of sweats. Socks?” “Thank you.” For some reason, they both glanced at her bare feet. Damn, the pink perfection extended to Jess’s cute toes. Was she ticklish? Or did a light lick on her arch make her cream? “Get a grip, buddy.” Huh? Devil ignored his friend and forced his legs to work. The wine cellar in the basement needed finishing touches, but the temperature gauge for the whites’ section displayed the required fifty-two degrees. After grabbing a couple of bottles of her preference, Devil detoured to the bedroom, snatched the clothes, and hurried back to the great room. Suppressing a furious hiss when he busted in on Jess and Demon laughing together, he skidded to a halt. “Having fun?” “Demon was telling me about the first time you two met.” Jess sent Devil such a sweet smile he forgot to be annoyed for half a second. Then memories crashed over him. Arms folded, he glared at his friend. “Which first meeting was this?” “Oh, you know. The one in the Indonesian amusement park.” Crapola. The Indonesian Sex Amusement Park had set them both off on a wild R&R furlough. He handed Jess the sweats and socks. “Remember that circus we went to?”

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What game was Demon playing? Like he wanted Jess to know about Lee’s World Famous Sex Circus. “Don’t like circuses. And you know that.” Devil spent the next hour and a half negotiating around the information bombs dropped about him by Demon. And trying not to leap over the table and pound him. “He’s nice,” Jess said after Demon had left for the garage. “I didn’t expect to like him or feel comfortable with him after…” Regret and self-directed anger choked back the automatic apology he knew would only open up the proverbial can of worms. He moved behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders. “Trust me. He’s blanked what happened at Bacchanal out of his memory.” “Let’s not go there.” The ornery side of him had his mouth opening to argue, but rational survival instincts kicked in, and he pressed his lips together. “You ready to turn in? Or do you want to take a walk on the beach?” Under his palms, her muscles quivered. He held his breath, aware that her answer had the power to shatter the few dreams that still played in the corners of his mind. “You were right.” When she rested her hand atop his, he damned near swallowed his tongue. Devil struggled to repress an automatic glib response designed to negate the fear-tainted bitterness coating his tongue. “About what?” “I wanted to get you out of my system.” Wanted. Past tense. Glad she couldn’t see his broad grin, he kept his tone somber. “And I aim to see that never happens. Walk or bed?” “I’m tired.”


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Letting his hands slip to lock around her waist, he tugged her back to his chest and nuzzled her neck. “Bed it is.” Devil gave Jess space. While she wound her way to the master bedroom, he ducked into the library and selected two first prints he’d picked up in a remote Scottish village. He entered just as she slipped under the covers. The sucker punch of seeing Jess in his bed caused a physical ache in his chest. She reached over, pulled the two pillows on his side to hers, fluffed the down filling, and hand-ironed the casing. Twisting, she settled the plumped pillows back into place and froze for a heartbeat before bringing one to her nose, closing her eyes, and sniffing. His eyes pricked. She belonged here in his bed, beside him. As if. He retreated into the hallway and cleared his throat before sauntering into the room. A surreptitious glance showed the pillows in place. Jess, sitting up straight, covers drawn to her lap, fingers laced together on top of the comforter, followed his lope to the other side of the bed. Pink, the color of a fresh pearl, dusted her throat and cheeks. “Thought you might like to peruse one of these.” The two books he flipped onto the sheets landed parallel to her thigh. She frowned, then shot him a WTF look, and with a reverent grasp picked up the worn leather-covered tome. Focused on the antique book, Jess never noticed him slipping off his sweats, missed his rampant erection bobbing for her attention, and didn’t shrug off when he curled an arm along the ridge of her shoulder. “This is a Wheatley first edition of The Diary of Samuel Pepys.” She trained her enormous baby blues on him. “It’s breathtaking. Mint condition.”

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“Turn to page twenty-six.” He didn’t know whether to be insulted or pleased by her reaction. She so obviously thought him incapable of an intellectual thought, far less the owner of one of the most important sources of information about the English Restoration period. The onionskin papers crinkled when she did a whisper-gentle turn of each page, and her audible gasps did wonders to soothe the ego she’d ravaged seven months ago with her sarcastic remarks about his lack of a degree and limited IQ. “This couldn’t be—Wheatley’s handwritten notes?” He learned one lesson in the next couple of hours. Handing a couple of antique books to former editor and book lover Jessica Blaine did not put her in the mood for a prolonged pussy eating. Long after Jess fell asleep, he stared at the ceiling. Part of his mind absorbed the grayish water stains on the ceiling tiles, and the fixer in him made a mental note to replace them ASAP. The other part savored the slight weight of her cheek resting just above his ribs, became tipsy on her unique fragrance, and picked out the drummed rhythm of her even breathing. He expected a restless night. A persistent rampant erection and swollen balls tended to keep a man awake. So when the shrill clanging of Notre Dame’s bells jerked him out of a deep slumber, he had to count to ten before reality seeped in. Blinking, he glanced down at Jess, glimpsed a flutter in the thick fringe of brown lashes dusting her cheek, and reached for the cell on the bedside table, keeping his movements slow and even. “This better be good,” he half whispered, half murmured. “One of Jess’s neighbors called 911 two hours ago.” Satan had a flair for the dramatic, and the long pause had Devil’s synapses firing rapid bursts. “Her condo, along with three others, was robbed and trashed last night.”


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Chapter Four “Spill everything.” Destiny Chapman hoisted her six-month pregnant form onto one of the bar stools around the pub-style kitchen table. Jess rushed forward when the high chair wobbled before settling. “Don’t you think it might be more comfortable on the window seat?” “Don’t. Go. There. It’s bad enough having to cope with my darling husband hovering if I so much as sniff. Honestly, you’d think I’m the first pregnant woman in the universe. And don’t think you can change the subject. Is he sinfully good? I mean the things I’ve heard about Devil and sex. Whew!” Destiny fanned herself. “And why are you so sure I know?” “One, he dropped you here. Two, he almost jumped you with that good-bye kiss, not that it was just one kiss. Three, his hands were planted in places and slipped to certain, um, shall we say intimate spots—” “All right. I give up. I slept with him.” Jess knew she’d just about turned purple. “Can we leave it at that?” “You gotta be kidding, girlfriend. I want details. Is he as hot as he looks?” “Yes.” “Uh-uh. Won’t cut it. Details. I heard he’s almost as big as Demon, who, if you listen to gossip—” “Your mind’s in the gutter.” Jess hopped onto the opposite stool and busied herself stirring the apple tea in her mug. “And a mind in the gutter can be sheer ecstasy. I’m waiting.”

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Jess adored Destiny’s kitchen. The woman loved to cook, and the room reflected her personality. Dark wood, black granite counters flecked with green, and every gourmet appliance known to civilization filled a cozy room surrounded by a panoramic view of a Long Island bay. The two-seater table was tucked into a nook with floor-to-ceiling windows. Beyond the glass enclosure, the scenery epitomized fall. Maple and oak trees boasted a riot of rust, gold, orange, and blazing red leaves. A blustery wind whipped debris from one spot to another as Mother Nature—the ultimate designer—strove for perfection. Gray clouds, more pearlescent than angry, banished the globular sun’s stubborn attempt to showcase its own brilliance. The combination of the cozy, warm kitchen and the ever-changing wintery vista invited lingering. Jess couldn’t count the amount of times she and Destiny had spent at the table sipping tea or wine and talking. “I can wait you out, Jessica Blaine. I know one of the squad posted photos of Demon and Devil’s erect male genitals on Hung’s Web site. I wonder if it’s still there?” “Lordy, you can be a pain. Let’s just say he’s proportionate.” Jess sipped the too-hot tea and winced as her tongue burned. Destiny rolled her eyes. “Want me to get specific? And let me tell you, being married to Sinner for nine months has armed me with an arsenal of sexual info that only porn stars are privy to.” Letting out a long sigh, Jess set the mug on the table and curled her fingers around the porcelain’s warmth. “Let’s put it this way, Devil’s an apt nickname. And that’s all you’re going to get out of me. I’m not ready to talk about it. Period.” Though she felt Destiny’s stare like a drill boring into her bowed head, Jess kept her gaze fixed on the caramel-colored liquid in the cup and waited. When Destiny’s hands closed around hers, she glanced up. “What? You’ve got that look on your face.”


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“I’m hoping that now that you’ve hooked up with Devil and you’ve gotten him out of your system, you can move on. But I have this sinking feeling that you’re planning to see him again.” Why did everyone cast Dominix as bad news? Jess ground her teeth. Ten to one Destiny’d never believe that she and Dominix had spent two hours discussing Sam Pepys’ diary last night. In bed. And that they’d gone to sleep afterward. A surge of anger had her jerking the mug, and hot tea sloshed onto her wrist. She reached for a napkin. “And what if I am?” “Tell me you aren’t considering a relationship with him. I know you, Jess, and you’re not a swinger. From what I’ve heard, Devil and Demon aren’t exactly straight-sex kind of men. They’re into threesomes.” Lordy, if Destiny found out about her and Bacchanal… Best not to go there. Time to change the subject before she inadvertently blurted TMI. Jess relaxed her clenched jaw, pasted a smile on her face, and met Destiny’s gaze. “I’m not going to be able to avoid him for the next while. Do you remember that student I mentor—Aung? The one who met us for tea that time at the Plaza?” “Of course. The very serious twenty-two-year-old who looked all of fourteen. What’s she got to do with you and Devil?” Jess spent the following thirty minutes explaining the situation to Destiny. She avoided mention of the auction but admitted to going to the nightclub and flirting with Tron. Destiny went ballistic when Jess told her about the condo and the burglaries. “Are you nuts? What the frick’s wrong with you? Why didn’t you ask Linc and the guys for help?” When Destiny’s nose quivered, an explosion was imminent. “It’s all water under the bridge now. The Hades Squad’s on the job, and I’m in protective custody until further notice.” “I take back what I said about Devil. You couldn’t be in better hands. Linc says Devil’s even more protective than he is, though I don’t think that’s possible. And maybe now Tom Gordon will finally take the hint.”

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“What is it about Tom that you don’t like?” Tom was her most lucrative client. “And for the umpteenth time, he’s not interested in me that way.” “I don’t like his books. And he so is.” Destiny kneaded the small of her back. “Well, I’m glad the rest of the world doesn’t share your opinion.” Every single one of Tom Gordon’s last seven books had topped the bestseller lists for months. “Hmm. You know, Devil doesn’t like him either. It’s about the only thing he and I have ever agreed on.” “I hate it when you get that look on your face. What are you plotting now? And it’d better be a new manuscript.” “No. No matter what angle I look at it from, Devil’s not the one. He’s too sinfully sexy. You’d be fighting off the hordes.” The last thing Jess wanted to hear. But then again, the truth always hurts. For a second, she contemplated reminding Destiny of Sinner’s checkered past. But that would only lead into a one-upping conversation, and Jess had a hunch Devil’s past and present sexual appetites would put Sinner’s in the shade. “Okay. I give you permission to have a fling with him until this situation’s over.” Destiny waved a finger. “After that you drop him cold. Before he cheats on you.” Jess flinched. “Why is that so inevitable? Because I’m too much of a prude? Or because I’ve never—” Destiny sputtered when Jess stopped midsentence. Her jaw dropped. “Jess Blaine. You’re redder than a cooked beet. Oh. My. God.” Even Jess’s arms blushed when Destiny mouthed, The Big O. “Don’t even try to go there.” “You had one. You had an orgasm. With Devil? Why did it have to be him?” Destiny hopped off the stool, waddled over, and hugged her tight. “See. I told you. There’s nothing wrong with you.”


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“Don’t tell. Please.” Jess’s whole body overheated, and the second Destiny pulled away, she knew. “You told him? Linc knows I’ve never… Can you not keep a single secret?” “It probably never registered. You know how I babble. I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die, I will not tell Linc that you had an orgasm.” Her friend had the best intentions and the loosest lips in the world. But she also had the biggest heart in the universe and not a single selfish bone in her body. And she was Jess’s first friend and her bestie. “And you know once you clear that first-time hurdle, well, you can expect the multiples to—” Destiny pressed a hand over her mouth. “OMG, you had more than one!” She’d trade her soul for a way to control blushing. Right then an inferno stoked the heat flaring over every inch of flesh. How to get Destiny off the topic? Jess glanced at her watch. “I should have heard from Dominix by now. The squad were supposed to meet at ten. Do you think something’s wrong?” The tactic worked. “What are you worried about?” “I’m dreading that they’ll have found Aung’s body. It’s been twenty-five days.” Destiny checked the clock on the opposite wall. “It’s near one. Satan runs a tight meeting. Most are over in under an hour. Something must have happened. But if they’d found Aung, Linc would’ve called.” What else could go wrong? Jess repressed a sigh. “I’m lucky today is a government holiday. Most of my clients are out. But I have to get back into my normal routine ASAP. I need to get back to my condo.” “The one thing that’s good about having a virtual office is that you can work anywhere. You know you can stay here instead of at Devil’s place. You do have options, Jess. Just say the word and I’ll speak with Linc and Satan.” Destiny folded

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her arms over a protruding stomach and narrowed her eyes. “They wouldn’t dare refuse me.” The sane, rational part of her said jump on it. Get away from Dominix while the getting’s good. The wild side, the one that came to life if he so much as looked her way, snorted at the idea of playing it safe. He hadn’t made love to her this morning, and she still felt abandoned. Maybe he planned to work her out of his system. Maybe two sessions had been enough. Maybe all he’d said about burying his face between her thighs had been nothing but a cruel joke. Stop it. You don’t even like oral sex. Her cell dinged. Jess glanced at the screen. Dominix. Be ready in ten. She read the words aloud, and thumbed, Ready for what? “I hate it when they go all alpha and start spitting orders. Sure you don’t want to stay here? It’ll be two and a half against one.” Destiny flashed a smile-smirk. Jess locked on to the subject change. “How does Linc feel about having a girl?” “He keeps moaning about being punished for his sins. It’s a little overwhelming having the first granddaughter in the family. Every time I turn around, one of Linc’s siblings is giving me something pink for the baby. And don’t let me get started on my mother- and father-in-law.” “It can’t be easy marrying into such a large family.” Having few relatives herself, Destiny relished being part of the Chapman clan, down to the ten brothers and sisters and a slew of aunts, uncles, and cousins. “I love it and you know it. But I feel like it’s raining pink. You have no idea how many different shades of the color there are.” “Have you decided on a name?”


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Destiny snorted. “Are you kidding? Even if we had decided on one, you think I’d announce it three months ahead of time? As it is, I have every female Chapman bribing me to go with her name on a daily if not hourly basis.” The conversation remained focused on the baby, to Jess’s utter relief. So thankful to have warded off more pointed questions about her sex life, she forgot to be annoyed at Devil’s high-handedness when he arrived, and greeted him with a smile. Appreciative for once of his take-charge attitude, she didn’t bleat a protest when he rushed the two of them out of Destiny and Linc’s house and bundled her into his pickup. After he secured her seat belt, he cupped her jaw and studied her face. “I missed you.” She stopped breathing. Couldn’t swallow. Had no control over her lips. He drove her nuts—one second a domineering caveman, the next a tender lover. Did that mean no sex this morning wasn’t him cooling things down? “Why didn’t you, we…this morning…you didn’t?” He looked away for long seconds. “Didn’t want to scare you off.” If insides could melt, hers did. Maybe, just maybe there was more than simple chemistry between them. The gruffness of his voice, the reluctant tone, the deep blush staining his face made her want to believe they stood a chance. The car radio’s volume jumped three notches as a used car ad blasted from the speakers. Devil’s hands fell away, and he turned and started the car. Neither spoke for the first couple of miles. “The cops are finished with your condo. It’s a mess. We’re going there so you can grab what you need. Pack for at least seven days. They went through everything, Jess.” “They?” She checked his profile, noted the grim set of his mouth, the muscle twitching under his eye.

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“We figure that there had to be at least two of them to clean three condos so fast.” The way he avoided looking at her had goose bumps prickling all over. “What are you not telling me?” “We sent in a sweep team after the police gave us the go-ahead. They found two cameras and several bugs.” What he said didn’t register for a few seconds. Then the words seeped into her brain, but as a jumbled anagram designed to make no sense at all. “Bugs, cameras? Like in a bad B movie?” She shook her head. “This doesn’t happen in real life.” “It’s happening.” They’d stopped at a light, and he looked at her. “And it’s no joke. No B movie. This is your life, and someone’s targeting you. Got that?” “I…I guess. It’s so surreal. Is this all related to Aung’s disappearance?” She could only manage shallow breaths because of the invisible band squeezing her ribs and chest. “It looks that way.” The light turned green, and Devil switched his attention, stepping on the accelerator and changing gears. “Has anything else out of the ordinary happened within the last three months?” “Three months?” She flinched when her voice came out as a squeal. “Someone’s been watching me for three months?” “Calm down, Jess. That was my bad. Three months is an arbitrary time frame we decided on for investigative purposes. Fact is we have no way of knowing when the bugs and cameras were planted.” She hugged her arms. “It’s all so creepy. That someone’s been watching me in my own home. It makes me feel sick to my stomach.” His hand captured hers and squeezed. “Don’t let it get to you. Besides Aung’s disappearance, has anything different happened within the last ninety days?” “You’ve no idea how boring my life is.”


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“Boring? In the last month alone, you’ve been to the opera three times. Attended two concerts. Held four press releases. Been interviewed on three local TV stations. Boring isn’t the word I’d use to describe your socializing.” His voice coarsened with each word, his nostrils flared and thinned, and the clipped delivery spoke of a rising temper. What right did he have to be annoyed with her? She welcomed the anger spiking her temperature, grateful to avoid the thought of being watched. “What you refer to as socializing is part of my job. I’m in PR. Each and every public appearance is designed to focus attention on one of my clients.” So pissed was she that Jess didn’t notice they’d arrived at her building until Devil snapped the pickup’s door open and hopped out. Anger kept her pinned in the seat, and she didn’t flinch at the sudden bang, but gritted her teeth and watched him lope to the passenger side and peel back the door. “Oh yeah. You and Tom Gordon doing kissy face at Le Circe is part of the job?” His vanilla-scented breath warmed her chilled lips. Nose to nose, they stared at each other. The scowl he wore had the perfect brows most women envied, drawn together into a straight line. “Yes.” She spat the answer. “And your activities at Bacchanal are job-related?” He went from smoke spewing to lazy charm right before her eyes, the perfect dimpled smile doing a cat-ate-the-canary appearance. “You’re jealous.” Her fingers iced. No. She hadn’t just given everything away. “Are you insane?” “Oh no, babe. Don’t even try to deny it.” “It takes one to know one. As if Tom Gordon has anything on you.” Damn. Damn. Jess flicked her seat belt and shoved the door back, forcing him to scramble for his footing. Not content with that show of temper, she slammed out of the vehicle and marched to the glass entrance to the building. His arms trapped her before she gained the landing. “What?” She didn’t bother to struggle.

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“I am jealous. Of that fucking Gordon bastard and every man who’s ever touched you.” His lips grazed her neck, and she had to lock her knees to remain standing. “You have threesomes. You’re into all sorts of deviant sexual behavior. You have no right to be jealous.” But I do. I have every damned right. He shuddered, and his long exhale sifted her hair. “This isn’t the time or place for this discussion. I’m not exaggerating the potential danger facing you, Jess. We need to be united once we enter your condo. We’ve left the bugs and cameras in place.” Her stomach bored a hole through the earth’s core, headed straight to China. No—he couldn’t mean someone still watched her home; please, please, let it not be true. She spun around. “Why?” “In the hopes they’ll lead us to whoever’s placed them.” He trailed a finger along her cheekbone. “Pax?” His dilated pupils made his eyes impenetrable, and she couldn’t guess at his thoughts. Deal with the situation. Suck it up. She inhaled and exhaled. “Peace. For now.” “That’ll do.” He went into warrior mode. “From the minute we enter the building, you act as if you know nothing. Your home’s been robbed, and you’re outraged. It’s perfectly normal to check every single item, look into every drawer, every cabinet. I’ll ask you to make a list of what’s missing. Do that, but also take note of anything out of the ordinary.” “Didn’t you say the condo was trashed? Everything will be askew.” All at once, nausea welled up in her throat. Some pervert had touched her things. “Not everything. And that’s important too. I’m asking you to notice anything irregular. The smallest detail could help us.”


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The somber set of his brows, the intent focus on her, the tight clench of his jaw stamped the fear of the hounds of Hades into her heart. She gnawed her lip. “This is really happening. Someone’s really after me.” “Yes. Take a deep breath. When you’re ready, we’ll go in. I’m with you every step of the way. No one’s going to get around me. Got that?” She believed him and managed a shaky smile. “I got that.” Nothing in the world could’ve prepared Jess for the horrific feeling of violation that slammed her the second she stepped into her condo. She absorbed the chaos, the disarray, and the wreckage, but what had her shaking and her knees wobbling was the violence inherent in each senseless, smashed vase. The maliciousness that made someone tear apart the prized autographed, hard-covered volumes from her authors. “Easy.” Devil wrapped an arm around her waist. “You’re as white as ghost. Let’s get you on the couch.” “No.” She pushed him away. “No. I don’t want to touch anything they might have. Let’s just do this and get out of here.” A peculiar numbness settled inside her. She went through all the motions, checking the three rooms in detail, making notes on her phone along the way. Dominix stayed beside her but kept silent and apart as if he knew she’d shatter with one touch, one misspoken word. The agony of seeing her whole life in tatters didn’t sink in until they stood once more in Devil’s great room. She didn’t remember leaving the condo, far less the journey to his home. “Hot tub.” He scooped her up, coat, boots, and all. “You’re in shock. We need to get you warm, get some food into you, and then you need to rest.” Buzz, buzz, buzz. His words buzzed around in her head. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she tried to regroup, lifted her head from his shoulder. should—”

“I

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“You should and you will let me take care of you.” He kissed her temple. “Trust me this once, Jess. Don’t think. Don’t try to be strong. Let me take care of you.” Too bone-deep exhausted, too drained to summon the energy to even reply, Jess rested her cheek on his chest and surrendered. Things went hazy. She watched him through a fog. Aware but unable to muster a response when he took off her boots and clothes, she submitted to his ministrations, the experience too surreal, too disconnected for her mind to process. She sighed when he set her on the bench in the spa, moaned when the jets of hot water pummeled her body, and leaned back against the rim. Eyes open, she stared at the night. Never had she seen the heavens so glorious. This far from civilization, the stark blackness of the sky proved the perfect background for God’s display of his mightiness. The night carpet shimmered and glistened as zillions of silver-white stars burst and dimmed. A zephyr found the rhythm of the five-point diamonds, and the warm breeze ebbed and flowed with each twinkle. Even the rustling of willow branches sweeping fall leaves drummed to the evening’s cadence. It seemed natural to be gentled onto his lap. Felt normal for him to hold her and nuzzle her neck. Like coming home to inhale the fragrance of his aftershave, and so soothing to follow the rise and fall of his magnificent chest. A hypnotic trance held sway. The panic battering the corners of her mind retreated, and little by little, a strange tranquility soothed the chaotic pulse throbbing at her temples. Muffled sounds sharpened sometime later: the pulsing jets, the keer-reet of a tern calling its mate, the low hum of a boat motoring in the distance. Her stomach growled a reminder of its empty status, she shifted, and her pruned fingertips grazed Dominix’s ribs. “Ready for food?” His hand caressed her exposed shoulder, and the heat of his palm radiated a comforting warmth. She bit back a reflexive denial, the urge to prolong the peace


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almost too potent to deny, but hunger ate at her stomach. “I could eat the proverbial horse.” Near midnight, stomach full enough to merit a contented sigh, Jess glanced at her half-eaten dessert. “I’ve never had an apple dumpling before. It was delicious. You’re an excellent cook.” Dominix shrugged. “I had an excellent teacher.” “Your mom?” She propped her chin on cupped hands. “My grandfather. My father and mother died when I was young.” Jess blinked. Didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.” “Can’t miss what you don’t know. I had a perfectly happy childhood, Jess, so don’t even think about pitying me.” He pulled her plate his way. “Your eyelids have been drooping for the last thirty minutes.” She opened her mouth to protest and ended up yawning. “Bed for you.” He deposited the plates next to the sink, pushed her chair away from the table, and lifted her into his arms. “You cooked. Let me do the dishes.” The automatic offer earned her the dimpled smile that melted the hearts of even the most embittered man-haters she knew. “Nope. Taking full advantage of your lulled state.” He winked before flipping the covers and settling her on the bed. Eyed her T-shirt and sweats and then blew out a long sigh that ruffled the wisps of hair escaping her ponytail. “What?” “Found you a small treat.” Angling his chin at the bedside table, he replied, “The New Yorker with J.D. Salinger’s ‘A Perfect Day for Bananafish.’” Would he always surprise her into next week? Jess stared at him, wishing she could see to his core. How much had she misjudged him? “Aren’t you going to check it out?”

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The magazine. Right. The date made her breath hitch: January 31, 1948. “This is incredible.” She ran a hand over the cover, relishing the quality of the paper. “How on earth did you manage to get this?” “I’ll tell you one day.” He finished tucking the sheets around her waist, dropped a kiss on her forehead, and straightened. “Enjoy. I’ll be back as soon as I finish cleaning up.” She stared at his retreating back. The precious magazine held her interest for less than five minutes. She thumbed the pages, glanced at the famous short story by the author of The Catcher in the Rye—arguably the most famous tome on teenage angst and alienation—read the first few sentences, and set the publication back on the bedside table. Absently she stroked his pillows, plumped them, and then brought one to her nose. Strange how quickly she’d learned his scent, how in less than forty-eight hours, his peculiar blend of aftershave, soap, and male pheromones had become a source of comfort. And titillation. I want him. I want him to do all the things he said. And I want to return the favor. For so long she’d considered herself asexual. Forty-eight hours with Dominix and she’d turned into a sex fiend. Lordy. What if I like all that stuff he’s into? She buried her face in his pillow and squeezed her eyes shut. Stop lying to yourself. You loved it at Bacchanal. How did this all work? Can you go back once you’ve crossed the line? “I never thought I’d be fucking jealous of a pillow.” She jerked up, shoved the pillow back in place, and only restrained from pulling the covers over her head by biting her lips so hard the faint copper tang of blood wafted over the tip of her tongue.


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Feeling his presence, knowing from quick sidelong glances he stood in the doorway, hands fisted, a blatant erection tenting his sweats. Nostrils quivering, cheeks flushed, she stared at the opposite wall, willing her frozen limbs to work. “Jess?” His coarsened voice twisted her insides, the barely checked growl had her sex creaming, and the leashed desire in that one-word question crumbled away any thought of resistance. Swallowing around the pulsing lump clogging her throat, Jess released the linen her fingers crushed with their mechanical fisting and flexing, and met his gaze. “Yes.” She expected him to be all over her in three seconds. Didn’t expect his terse reply. “Good.” Didn’t anticipate him going to the bathroom. Followed his loping gait and the bunching of his taut ass cheeks until he disappeared. Hissed when he reappeared naked, his jutting, purple-veined cock leading the way as he stalked to the other side of the bed. Noticed the black lengths of cloth dangling from one hand. Knew what he intended and felt not a milligram of fear, too consumed by the tidal wave of hunger crashing through her veins to contemplate any future longer than how long it would be before he was inside her. The trembling began when he lifted her to the center of the bed. Increased as he gathered her wrists above her head and wound the soft silk around her hands. Morphed into shudders of desire after he’d looped the ties around a carved slat in the headboard. Became licks of fire racking her entire body when the pungent aroma of his weeping cock skipped to her nose. “I can smell your pussy creaming for me.”

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Her face heated. He licked the seam of her mouth and whispered against her lips, “It gets me hard as a rock when you blush. You’re such a fricking girl next door. All this blondeness and sweetness and apple freshness on fire for a devil. How d’ya feel about that, cheerleader?” He tugged her lower lip between his teeth; the pressured bite rode the edge of pleasure-pain. Lust flooded through her. She squeezed her legs together when he outlined her mouth, leaving a trail of wetness for his hot breath to fan and prickle. Their eyes met. She near combusted. Every sense focused on him. She no longer heard the low hum of the heating system. No longer saw anything but the coal black desire merging his pupils and irises into twin blazing circles. No longer felt anything but the slight sweat sheen slicking where his chest grazed hers. No longer smelled anything but the promise of blossoming sexual musk emanating from their pores. “I want you.” She tugged at the restraints. “Inside me.” A fever infected her brain cells, had her synapses sparking electric bolts; she struggled with the silk ties and growled when he chuckled. “Make me hot, cheerleader. Make me so hot I have to take you.” “I’m tied up. I can’t touch you.” She all but yelled the words. Her legs thrashed the bedcovers. “I know.” His wicked, one-sided grin strangled her breathing. He settled on top of her, forcing her thighs wide, wedging his cock between her folds, and ordered in a gruff, graveled voice, “Look at me.” A sharp blast of fear froze all movement when their gazes locked. “Don’t take your eyes off me. Not for a second, cheerleader.” No one else existed. Her world had come down to him. Devil.


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He lipped a nipple, grazed his teeth over the tip, and bit. “Oh lordy.” She was a seething, squirming mass of desire ready to boil over. Jess wriggled and tried to lift her hips. He bit harder. The sting zinged to her clit. Mouth around her pulsing nipple, tongue doing lazy, reversing half circles, he looked up and smiled. “Make me hot, cheerleader. Tell me what you want.” He suckled her whole areola, and the sight of the pale rose circle disappearing into his mouth loosened any remaining inhibitions. “Bite. And tug. Ah, so good, Dominix.” The ability to vocalize went AWOL. It was pain and not. Pleasure and not. He played her like a master, taking her to a precipice, letting her slip, and scooping her back. She tingled from scalp to heels, nerves ping-ponging from extreme fire flashes to a shuddered iciness, her skin so aware it felt as if a zillion pins grazed her pores. Her clit throbbed and demanded attention of any kind—his teeth, mouth, tongue, the sharp pinch of fingers. His rigid cock slipped up and down her slickened labia. She arched and angled but couldn’t drive his penis to her burning core. “Damn it, Dominix.” “Come on out to play, cheerleader. Let me see that baaaad side.” Devil feathered tiny grazed nips over the underside of her breast. “Want this?” He rolled up and down, his cock grinding her clit for a mere hint of a second. “Yes. Yes.” She wrapped her legs around his back and locked her ankles together. “Tell me. Say it.” She nearly screamed. “Fuck me. Now.”

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Chapter Five Frick, he had her going. Devil feasted on Jess. Her flushed face, the swollen, reddened lips, the twin nipples, wet, taut, and blushed rose from his mouth and teeth. He gathered her breasts and moved between the beautiful mounds, slurping from one tight peak to the other. Every nip had her gasping and spewing half orders. “More. No. Again.” She ground her pussy on him, and his stones ached and fisted with each sideto-side scrape. Precum dripped steadily from his slit, slicking her belly, and the head pushed into her navel when he rocked his dick up and down her folds. The tang of sex, precum, pussy cream, and sweat intoxicated his senses. She surrounded him—her smell, the feel of her flesh sliding over his, her heels digging in to his ass as she lifted off the mattress. He forced her locked ankles apart; her thighs drooped to the sheets when he kissed his way to her belly button. The fragrance of her pussy had him reeling. Calling on the last of his reserves, he slowed his pace, taking the time to lick and titillate her navel. Filling his lungs on her perfume, he lipped and nipped a path to her pale pubes, relishing the rippling of her stomach muscles, wallowing in her breathy whimpers and the frantic wriggled attempts to get his mouth to her core. Wedging his shoulders under her thighs, Devil locked on to her sex. “So pretty.” He fingered a fold, traced the oval of her center, glistening under the overhead lights. “All pink and blonde. And so fricking wet.”


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Thumbing a circle around her clit, he tickled the hooded tip with his tongue and blew over the wetness. Smiling when she spat out a curse, he buried his nose between the glossy labia and inhaled. No way, not even in an entire lifetime would he get enough of Jess. “Mine.” He rested his tongue at her opening, rubbing his face, coating his nose, chin, eyelids with her cream. Holding her legs, he splayed her wide, relishing the submissiveness of the ultimate vulnerable position before lowering his head and gorging on her essence. Her vaginal walls contracted around his tongue. Devil did a bait and switch. Tongue and hands moved contratandem, his mouth on her clit while he finger fucked until her muscles went into spasm. A lightning change, thumb and forefinger pinching her hood hard and sharp while he tongue lashed her hole. She shattered, legs trembling in his grasp, heels drumming like a bongo on fast-forward. Not satisfied, he abandoned holding her in place, one hand spreading the hood, leaving the girl-prick at his mercy. He suckled, lapping the tiny womancock’s length, growing drunk on her screams, and gnawed her clit, grazing his teeth side to side. “Devil!” She drew out his name. The high-pitched yell fueled the frenetic flow of all the blood in his body to his dick and balls. He couldn’t hold back the impending fusillade and went into a blur of rapid action. His cock twitched and jerked. Devil worked like a fiend, loosened the silk ties, cupped her bottom, and squeezed the plump cheeks before lifting her off the bed. He drove into her, one furious thrust, seating himself so deep his testicles slapped her pussy folds. The impact zinged his balls, the root of his prick quivered, and he threw his head back. The orgasm slammed up the length of him, thronging across his groin, blazing at the base of his spine. His dick erupted, spewing semen like an overactive volcano. Hot, molten jets fired from his cock’s slit.

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Devil shuddered through the climax, holding Jess tight to him with one hand, leaning on his elbow to pump when he felt her pussy clamping his erection. She came around him, grinding off the bed, levering up to prolong the ebbing contractions. He rested his forehead in the valley between her breasts, reflexively doing a bump and grind as aftershocks licked her vagina like a strobe light. His mouth curved on her skin when she whimpered and blew out a long sigh; her exhale feathered his cusp and raised the hairs on his nape. She drew him to her, and he rested his head in the crook between neck and shoulder, careful to stay levered and not rest his full weight on her slender torso. Her fingers traced soft circles on his scalp. The caress fired an ache deep beneath his ribs, and he touched his lips to the center of her collarbone. Her life’s force throbbed against his mouth, the stark paleness of her neck a marked contrast to the tree-bark color of his hand stroking her flesh. Rolling them over, he waited for her to adjust to the new position and then arranged her legs so she straddled him. He flexed his dick and grinned when she jerked up to meet his gaze. “You’re not—” Color scurried over every inch of her; even her eyelids blushed. She ducked her head, and he lifted her chin. “Go on. Finish.” “How can you be ready again?” “I’m not. Just flexing to stay hard.” He combed her hair, lingered on one lobe, and traced the pearl stud earring. “I like being inside you. Feeling your pussy quiver and contract around my dick. And I like it when you blush. I’ve never seen so many fricking shades of pink.” Her brown lashes fluttered, and she focused on his throat. Twin rose stains coated the hollows of her cheeks; he knuckled one, marveling at the suppleness of her skin.


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“You’ve got that angry V between your eyebrows. The one you always have when I’m around. Why’re you pissed at me now?” “I’m annoyed at myself, not you.” She finally looked at him, but he couldn’t guess at her thoughts, she had her face so shuttered. “We shouldn’t have done this, Dominix.” He wanted to tar her backside but gritted his teeth and strove for a calm he didn’t feel. “It’s a definite no-no to tell your lover you regret fucking him while he’s still hard inside you.” She lit up like a Las Vegas strip joint. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” “What did you mean?” He twirled a lock of hair and repressed a smile when the curl refused to hold. “You. Me. This. It should never have happened. What a colossal mistake.” She jerked away from him. “I’m not like you. I don’t do casual sex—” “And I do?” His temper ignited. He sat up, lifted her off him, and set her down on the opposite side of the bed. He hated her opinion of him. “Think about this, Jess. I haven’t fucked a woman in over seven months.” “Dominix—” Throwing his legs to one side, he then bounded off the mattress, stalked around, hefted her into his arms, and marched to the bathroom. Slamming the sliding door down, he glanced at her. “Have a shower. Wash the stink of me off your skin.” A fucking mistake. He knew what he was. Had always been. A fucking mistake. Devil stomped through the house, would have punched the glass door if it hadn’t been ajar, and stumbled to the pool. The water sluiced across his face and body doing nothing to cool his wrath and not slowing his frenzied laps across the pool.

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He swam twenty lengths before the red haze of fury abted. He grazed his shoulder on the pool’s deep end and treaded water, staring at the blue-speckled wall and the dark forest tiles until the patterns merged. Devil reversed his position and rested his head on the pool’s ridge. Gulping cold air into his burning lungs, the roaring of his blood drowning all sound, he reacted automatically to the featherlight touch on his bicep. Hand rearing back in a fist, Devil whirled around, swore, checked his actions, and backpedaled. She gasped, gripped the tiled edge, and craned her head back. “Fuck. I’m sorry, Jess.” “No. I’m sorry.” Her eyes were bloodshot. “I ruined everything.” “I made you cry.” He thumbed the tear rolling down her wet cheek. “I’m such a fucking asshole.” A wavery smile curved her lips. “Okay. If we’re going to do this, you’re going to have to modify your language.” Going to do this? His heart beat at his rib cage. Did she mean…? Fuck. He snapped his jaw shut, willing his brain to start functioning. Don’t scare her. Go light. Crack a joke. “Which one do I lose—the asshole or the fucking?” He held his breath until she returned his grin. “Both?” Her expression sobered; she shook her head. “No. That’s not going to work. And it’s wrong of me to ask. That’s why relationships fail. One person tries to change the other.” Relationships? Fricking hell, oxygen would never make it to his lungs if she kept on slamming his hopes into the stratosphere. Play it cool. Set the scene. Romance. Talk. Give her whatever she needs. “Want to take this inside in front of a hot fire?” “I’d like that.”


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Devil didn’t give her a chance to do an about-face. Within minutes they sat against the couch, encased in a warm blanket, watching the bark of three logs burst into blue flames when the tinder beneath them blazed. He gave Jess a glass of red wine and nodded when she took a sip and pronounced, “Perfect. Here, have some.” He could get used to this. He swallowed a trickle of the merlot, let the grape coat his tongue, and stared, unable to stop drinking in her features. Loving the nuances, the tiny cat-eye gold in her blue irises, the small indentation in the middle of her patrician nose, and the slight creases at the corners of her mouth. “Stop that.” Her face flushed. “What?” “Looking at me like you’re ready to eat me up.” “Hard to do when it’s so fuck—fricking true.” He waggled his brows, and she giggled, cupping a hand over her mouth. He captured her wrist, brought her palm to his mouth, and kissed the center. “I shouldn’t have lost it earlier.” “I can’t blame you.” Taking the freebie she’d given him, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and focused on the charcoal falling off the grate. “After you told me where to get off that night at Sinner’s seven months ago, I went on a weeklong spree. Turns out screwing like a bull didn’t cure me of what I wanted. You.” He saw the disbelief in her eyes. “What don’t you believe, Jess? That I’ve been celibate since then?” She shook her head. “You’re not the kind of man who takes the time to lie. I don’t understand—why me? I’m so not your type.” “What’s my type?” “Women who love sex.” She rolled a shoulder. “I’m not sure I can be the kind of woman you normally want.”

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He glanced down to find her studying the wine in her glass. Running a finger along the angle of her cheekbone, he murmured, “You are the woman I want, Jessica Mary Blaine. You.” She traced the rim of the crystal and swallowed. “You’re a very sexual man. I’ve known that from the start. I don’t, as you put it, fuck. I’ve had two prior relationships, and the main reasons they didn’t work is because I wasn’t interested in the physical parts. I’m not a very sexual woman.” Jealousy went viral in his blood. The heat from the roaring flames couldn’t compete with the coal-hot tinders sparking his flesh. He splayed his hands to keep from grabbing her. Wanted nothing more than to kiss and fuck the memory of any man other than him from her brain. Then her words sank into his feeble mind. Those two other a-holes hadn’t cut the grade. She hadn’t had screaming orgasms with either of them. Devil tried not to grin. Restrained from beating his chest, but only by turning a strangled howl into a coughed grunt. He tilted her chin. “After tonight and last night, you can’t still believe that?” “It’s true.” She lowered her eyelids and chewed her lip. “I hate even the thought of oral sex.” “Jess—” “No. Let me finish. Okay. I enjoyed what you did. It’s probably some sort of fluke. But you’ll expect me to reciprocate, and I don’t know if I can. Without gagging.” And just like that, he fell in love. He, Dominix Alexander Zubiri, was in love. With a woman who gagged at the thought of sucking his dick. The universe’s idea of a colossal joke.


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A streak of insanity must have run in his veins, for his lips curved at the irony of the situation. “When I told you I have this thing about fluids and smells, I meant it. I don’t know how you—Oh, lordy, this is so embarrassing.” She twisted so her back braced his sternum and buried her face in her hands. Longing to shower her with kisses but knowing she needed a small respite, he curled an arm around her waist and drew her back against his chest. Toying with the silken strands of her hair, he considered his options and went with his gut. “Let’s table the issue of you sucking my cock. Right now what I want to know is precisely what embarrasses you. Talking about sex? Or about fluids and smells?” He heard her sharp intake. “You’re seriously not upset about me not wanting to…?” “You’re first and foremost a wordsmith, right?” Wine sloshed the blanket. “Damn it.” Devil relieved her of the glass and placed it on the wooden floor a good three feet away. She turned around, and he helped her sit so she straddled his thighs. “A wordsmith? I don’t see what you’re getting at.” He rubbed the familiar V between her brows. “Don’t you search for precisely the right word all the time while doing your job?” “Of course. Finding exactly that right word can be key to a PR campaign’s success.” She adjusted the blanket over one shoulder. “What does that have to do with…you know?” “Ah. There it is, the—You know. Say the word, Jess. What does finding the right word have to do with oral sex? Better yet. With me eating your pussy.” A riot of colors brightened her complexion, but she didn’t look away. “Okay. I admit to being uptight. To avoiding using the down-and-dirty terms. Blame it on my straitlaced upbringing.”

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“You creamed when I talked dirty.” When she opened her mouth, he set two fingers on her lips. “Think about it. Are you wet now? Did you get wetter when I mentioned me eating your pussy? Want me to prove it to you?” Devil moved his hand between her thighs and cupped her mound. “Am I right?” Her breasts rose and fell. Her nipples furled. “Look at you. You’re excited. You’re all flushed. I can smell your pussy creaming. Ten to one your nipples are throbbing.” Her gaze dropped. Her nostrils flared. “Tell me what you’re thinking.” “That I’m a fraud?” She worried her lips and stared at her heaving chest. “That I secretly like dirty talk. I must. I can’t deny my physical reactions.” Enough for tonight. Let her think over everything for a few hours. “Why don’t you mull that over for a bit? See where we can go from here?” But he needed one more admission. “So how about soothing my ruffled ego and telling me that your multiple orgasms were a result of my skills and not a fluke?” She cuffed his arm and shot him a rueful grin. “It’s all about you, is it?” “Nah, babe. It’s all about your screaming orgasms. And I do mean screaming.” He winked, kissed the tip of her nose, gathered her close, and then lurched to his feet. “Look at the fricking time. You’ve ruined my beauty rest, woman. When the squad latches on to the bags under my eyes tomorrow, I’m blaming you.” “You aren’t fooling me, Dominix Zubiri. I’ll let you off the hook. For now you get to change the subject. But we’ll come back to this eventually.” She kissed his chin. “And bags under your eyes somehow makes you look brooding and sexy as all hell.” “Flattery will get you everywhere and then some.” He ambled toward the bedroom. “Dominix?”


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Her tone had his belly caving big-time. “Jessica?” His voice held a bravado missing from his panicking brain. “Destiny thinks we’re dating.” Jesus fricking Murphy. His cock rode the seam of his sweats like a bronco. How to answer that one? “Exclusively.” Frick, frick, and damn, damn, damn. Had he blown it? “Okay.” Crap. He almost lost it. Almost rammed her against the wall and fucked her senseless. Almost told her those three words that would have her shoving him out of her life. Almost dropped to his knees and begged her to stay with him, to move in, to let him come home to her every single fricking day. Being a honed warrior had advantages. When your goal is in sight and when you know deadly land mines line the path, you use subterfuge and change direction. “It’s Sinner’s godson’s birthday the day after tomorrow, and Destiny’s throwing the party. I promised to help. You up for a horde of rug rats?” She blinked, and frick if he didn’t love the half-dazed look on her face. “I’d love to go to a kid’s birthday party. Destiny never said anything to me.” “Too busy grilling you about us, I bet.” “You hit that nail on the head.” “What?” He gave her a little shake before depositing her on the bed. “You’ve got that look women wear when they’re plotting against men.” “I was just wondering how Destiny knows that Demon has the biggest dongle of you all?” “Dongle? No way. That sounds like it needs rapping on a desk like a ruler.” He slid in next to her, rolled her onto her side, and set her cheek over his drumming

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heart. Frowned when he replayed her words and then choke-sputtered, “Demon? That bastard. He knows damn well I won that title.” She did that cute little giggle again, and he sighed, content to have her in his house and bed—for tonight. Tomorrow things had to change, and he’d adjust. Tonight they were dating exclusively. Tonight he’d begun their bonding, taking her places she’d never been before, both sexually and emotionally. Her breathing changed and went slow and deep, and her eyelids did a series of twitches. He’d known she was exhausted and running on empty since learning of the bugs and cameras, and hadn’t expected her to last so long. But that she’d hit REM sleep within minutes only emphasized how bone tired she was. He loved the way she slept. Liked that she curled right in to him and that when he arranged her leg so her bent knee cradled his erection, she didn’t object but snuggled deeper into his embrace. For months he’d scraped anger from any source, shunted it into a tight knot, and directed it at her. Fought loving her. Refused to believe, to acknowledge what he felt. No more. That meant he only had one move, one direction, one strategy. Win her. Fair means or foul. Fuck the competition. Tomorrow he’d sic Lucifer on her two lovers and that bestselling a-hole Tom Gordon. He awoke before Jess. Drifted in and out of consciousness as the sun danced and flirted with her pink and porcelain complexion, mesmerized by the dawn’s rays flitting here and there. Wished he had a poet’s turn and could capture the rawness of her that so captivated him. But his cock reared, and the budding sonnet writer vanished in half a second. Like that he was back to two nights before, a steed stalking his mare, snorting at the scent of her arousal. He studied her face, trying to guess what she thought, stealing a quick flicker over her folds, and inhaling like a crazed stallion, his nostrils flaring as he breathed in her pussy’s cream.


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She blinked, a dainty dash-dash of those brown lashes, opened her eyes, met his stare, and gifted him with an I’m-ready-to-slurp-the-cream smile. “Teach me.” Yes. Where? When? Name the place and the time. Fuck. Get your mind out of the gutter. He swallowed, and it fricking hurt. “What?” Shit, couldn’t he get a coherent word out of his damned throat? “I can smell you. And I don’t want to gag.” Progress. Hold on to that. Progress. “Jess?” Fuck if he could get anything else out. She touched a finger to his gaping mouth. “Close your eyes. I don’t know if I can do this with you watching me.” He would’ve reached for a blindfold but, in lieu of that, squeezed his eyes shut. “You don’t have to.” If God fricking existed, then nothing would stop her. Not now. Devil willed every limb to freeze. Told his twitching dick to still. Tried to slow his rasped panting but couldn’t stop his hands from fisting and splaying. Dawn hadn’t broken, and the birds were silent. In the eerie stillness, only their harsh breathing filled the quiet of the bedroom. His toes were like icicles—rigid, fragile, pointed, and awaiting the threat of a sudden squall. “You smell of soap.” His balls drew up hard, fast. He dared not take a deep inhale, and his lungs burned. Her nose grazed his pubic hairs, and he damn near expired. “And sex.” A note of wonder crept into her voice. “And it smells good. I’m not in the slightest bit nauseated. I think I want to do this.” He knew he’d die before she sucked him. And then her little tongue stroked his head, lingered on the rim of his shaft. He prayed. Begged God, any god, to help him last. Moved his hands to grab pillows. Crushed the down to smithereens. The spines

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of the feathers in the pillow snapped beneath his grasp. From head to toes, he was stretched like a warrior drawn tight after a racking. Her moist, hot mouth covered the engorged crown of his cock. Head bowed, sweat beading his entire body, Devil bargained with God, with Satan, with any deity willing to listen. “I’m losing it.” The words spewed from his lips, unwanted, desperate, a plea for mercy. He grabbed her shoulders, hauled her up, cupped her thighs, and positioned her above his rampant, bobbing erection. He held her aloft. “I need to eat you first. I’m going to fucking come the second I’m inside you.” “Me too. Oh heaven’s sake, Devil. Fill me, damn it.” She reached for his dick, curled her fingers around his throbbing arousal, glared at him, and ordered, “Now. Come inside me now.” He gripped her waist, held her tight, and drove into her. “Yes!” Ecstasy lit his brain when her walls clamped him like a vise. He wanted to draw out the moment, imprint the sight of Jess, head thrown back, tousled locks brushing her shoulders, eyes shuttered, cheeks flushed and damp. Her lids rose, she stared at him, lips curving, and her internal muscles contracted. “I can do it too.” Vixen. Sexy imp. His dick had entered the pearly gates. “Again.” Her nostrils flared, she shot him a saucy grin and tightened her pussy walls. He was a goner. He firmed his grip and held her immobile, thrusting up again and again, grinding his cock into her mound, dragging the base over her clit. He reared off the mattress and clamped his mouth over a nipple, sliding his tongue and teeth over the throbbing tit, feeling her flesh twitch and jerk under his mouth’s ministrations.


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The orgasm blasted him to never-never land, roaring up from his soles and exploding across his groin, scraping his testicles into taut stones, sucking all the blood to his cock. Her pussy went into squeeze-box mode, constricting each flooded cock vein, and semen burst forth in a torrent. He’d never had a fricking climax draw out so long. His dick refused to go flaccid and kept rearing and thickening to her multiple aftershocks. Never had his balls remained so hard and tight after he’d spilled his load. The languor of the sexually spent stole through his limbs eventually, and he slowed his fervent feeding from her breasts, gentled his crazed suckling. She had both hands linked behind his head and urged his cheek to the valley between her mounds. When his panting had subsided to near normal, she kissed his forehead and murmured, “You really should have let me finish.” Devil fell back on his forearms, amazed she could speak normally while he couldn’t get his brain and his mouth to connect. “And can you grow your hair back? I have this fantasy of running my hands through your hair while—while you’re nibbling on my nipples.” She caressed his chin and tipped his mouth closed. “Jess?” Had she gone from shy to sex kitten in one go? Their gazes met. She shrugged. “Go big or go home, right?” The grin spreading his mouth wide threatened to erupt into a me-Tarzan howl. “Can you clarify that last one?” “I thought about what you said. No more euphemisms. And I tried to count my climaxes, know how many times I came last night.” If he hadn’t already been in love with her, he would’ve fallen for her again right then. She blushed and blushed, and her fingers would’ve adjusted his stubble if such a feat were possible. She brushed the hairs one way, frowned, changed direction, and did it again.

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“I stopped counting at ten,” he offered, wanting to ease her embarrassment but loving the high color dusting every inch of exposed skin. For some reason that took her aback. “You counted?” Uh-oh. “You like my hair long?” “I’m on to you, Dominix Zubiri. You can’t get off easy by changing the topic. Yes, I like your hair long. Why were you counting my orgasms?” Heat scaled his cheeks. To rock your world. To prove you’d never been fucked better. To make you admire me for something. “A gentleman always sees to a lady’s pleasure.” Devil didn’t like the narrow-eyed, speculative assessment she sent his way. “We’re due to meet the squad at ten. Shower and breakfast?” Soap, lather, and Jess’s flushed skin—his mouth watered as images danced in his head. “I’d definitely love a shower. I need to wash my hair.” Jess wrapped the sheets around her. “Coffee’s fine for me. I really can’t face food first thing in the morning.” Huh? Devil gawked as the bathroom door clicked shut. He hopped off the bed and knocked. “I meant a shower together.” “I know.” The pipes creaked as the water gushed through the metal. He heard a squeak that meant she had stepped under all that warm, cascading spray. Shot the door a dirty glance when it remained closed and Jess silent. He showered in the cabana bath and dressed for work, all the while trying to devise a way to squeeze in a quickie before they had to leave for the office. Hunger pangs ate at his insides, and he had a sudden craving for the works: eggs, bacon, hash browns, and pancakes. Shaking his head at Jess’s preference for coffee instead of a real breakfast, he gathered supplies while whistling a new aria Sinner had taught him the week before.


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The smell of bacon cooking had his mouth watering. He flipped a strip and cursed when grease spattered his wrist. Licking the slight burn, he twisted when the landline rang, stretched to capture the receiver, and cradled it between his neck and shoulder. “Speak to me.” “Jess around?” Devil frowned. Satan only used that tone when he was royally pissed. “Nope. What’s up?” “The little darling neglected to mention a few salient facts.”

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Chapter Six Jess sauntered down the hall, taking deep inhales and salivating over the irresistible aroma of bacon cooking. Sporting what must have been a goofy smile, she combed the walnut gaucho pants, tugged the short matching vest in place, and exaggerated the sway of her hips when she spied Dominix waving a spatula. Lordy, the man’s nickname couldn’t have been more apt. Devil. The snug denim hugged his ass, the tight cheeks flexed when he jiggled the frying pan, and she near melted taking in the breadth of his shoulders, the classic Grecian profile, the olive complexion, the sheer beauty of his absolute maleness. She both hated and loved his perfection, knew she couldn’t compete with the women who threw themselves at him. “What do you mean?” And he had to have a deep growl that made Morgan Freeman’s seem feminine. With just that hint of foreignness to send shivers down her back. He had his cell clamped in the crook of his neck. Jess glanced at the digital readout on the microwave. Nearly 9:00. Who’d called so early? He spun around, shot her a grin, frowned, glared, and set the spatula in a spoon rest. “I’m going to put this on speaker. Repeat what you just said.” His eyes had narrowed to black coals, and the sexy smile was replaced by a thin-lipped line. Holding her gaze, he flipped the phone onto the counter. “Jess wasn’t alone on the first two visits to Bacchanal.” Her stomach did a cave dive. She should’ve come clean right at the beginning.


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Devil’s nostrils flared, and the hollows beneath his cheeks became pronounced. Jess choked back a curse when heat scaled her whole body. She squared her shoulders. You have nothing to be ashamed of. You did nothing wrong. “I was with Tom Gordon. He’s a friend, and I wanted moral and physical support.” Not even static relieved the dreaded quiet that followed. The sound of her own breathing roared to a crescendo, and a wave of nausea welled like a huge blob in her throat. “Care to explain why you met with Charles Smith?” Satan’s question had her doing a double take. She shook her head. “H-how on earth—” “Who the fuck is he?” Devil addressed the question to Satan, but his furious glower never wavered and he held her gaze hostage. “Charles is the owner of the first moving company I went to. He was the guy who asked me out for a cup of coffee. I told you about that in the meeting yesterday.” She shrugged. “I figured maybe he knew something, so I had coffee with him. Nothing came of it.” “We pulled all the tapes from the cameras at your building. Charles Smith entered the lobby behind a resident the night your condo was burglarized.” What? Her knees buckled, and she leaned on the counter. “I didn’t even give him my real name.” “Crap.” Devil curled an arm around her waist and helped her into a chair. “I’ll call you back.” “I don’t get it.” She stared at him, but his movements didn’t register until he held a glass to her lips. “Drink. You look like you’ve seen the devil himself.”

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A blast of anger scoured the sheer terror that had hit her seconds before. “That’s not in the slightest bit humorous, Dominix Zubiri.” “It got the green out of your complexion. Finish that water and eat. On the way in, you will explain not mentioning Tom Gordon.” Devil loaded two plates with the works, dumped one in front of her, and then straddled a chair. Jess pushed the food around, swallowed a couple of sips of OJ, and peeked at his scowling face. He ate with efficiency, and his lips held the pucker she associated with lime and salt after a tequila shot. “Are you going to sit there and glower at me for the rest of the meal?” She wiped her lips with the paper napkin. “You have no reason to be angry with me.” “No?” His fork clanged onto the plate. “You go to a fucking sex club with another man, and I’ve no reason to be angry?” The front door slammed open. “Morning, boys and girls.” Demon halted on the first step, jammed his hands onto his hips, glanced from Jess to Devil, and groaned. “What the frick’s going on? How did you two go from nauseatingly lovey-dovey to World War III in a span of less than six hours?” “Shut up and eat. We have to be at HQ in forty-five.” Devil jabbed a fork at the counter. “I made extra.” “I’ve told you before. It’s better not to eat than to eat angry.” Demon ambled to the kitchen. “Can you two not kiss and make up? Fast?” “Devil’s being entirely unreasonable. And I agree with you about the eating angry bit.” Jess speared a clump of scrambled eggs. “Unreasonable? Unreasonable? Go ahead. Tell him why I’m being fricking unreasonable.” Devil chomped down half a slice of toast. Fighting the urge to duck the salvo of darts shooting from Devil’s eyes, Jess snorted. “He’s pissed because Tom Gordon went with me to Bacchanal. For crying


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out loud, that was three weeks ago. And it’s not as if you and I were dating then or anything.” Demon’s jaw dropped. He shot an imaginary gun to his temple. “You went to a sex club with another man? And you think Devil’s being unreasonable? Holy crapola. Tell me that’s not the Tom Gordon she was being kissy-faced with in the papers?” “That’s it.” Jess lurched to her feet, plate and cutlery in hand. “I so do not understand you two. I was going to a sex club, for heaven’s sake. I needed some moral support, not to mention someone to explain to me what those gadgets on the walls were for. Tom’s famous for his suspense books on sexually deviant serial killers. Who better to ask for advice?” Devil shot out of his chair. His knife jumped three inches. “You fucking had him explain things to you?” This was so not the time to mention the shibari lesson. If he even suspected that Tom had given her an overview of the ancient Japanese art of erotic bondage— he’d hit the roof. Still, Dominix had no right to be mad at her. “I repeat. You and I were not involved three weeks ago. Tom is a friend. And FYI, Mister Demon Seed, that photo op in the papers showed two people having dinner and smiling at each other. And I am in the room. Do not refer to me as if I’m not here.” With that she scraped all the food into the trash, dumped the dishes into the sink, and stomped out of the room.

*** Jess had a raging headache an hour later when the whole team assembled in the Hades Squad conference room, a room she now viewed as a hostile environment. She jumped when Devil took the seat next to hers. “Here.” He edged a cup and saucer her way.

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The aroma of bergamot, the fragrance associated with Earl Grey tea, washed away the throbbing at her temples. Jess glanced at the wisps of steam rising from the amber liquid, then to his long brown fingers, the clipped nails, the dark hairs curling around his wrists, and just like that, she fell in love. Knew she’d do anything, go anywhere, if he so much as hinted they had a future. “Drink it.” She obeyed the terse order, sipped the hot brew, and wrinkled her nose when the sugar-loaded liquid hit her tongue. “I know you don’t take sugar normally. You need the energy boost. You should have had at least a slice of toast.” “And whose fault was that?” Jess glared at him. Lord, he could be irritating. “Yours. You dumped breakfast. Not me.” Devil didn’t bother to lower his voice. “Sinner, give Jess a couple of biscotti.” In the act of dipping said biscotti into a steaming cup of coffee, Sinner plucked two more biscuits from a decorative tin can and offered them to Jess. “Destiny made ’em. Pistachio and figs. Kind of weird, but she’s on this fig streak.” “Thanks. I didn’t know they existed outside of Fig Newtons.” Jess took a bite. “Wow. It’s great. I don’t know why I’m surprised. She’s an amazing cook.” “I liked it when she was craving éclairs.” Lucifer dropped into a chair and flipped open a file. “The only craving I didn’t like was the spinach-slash-pickle one.” Demon shuddered. “That was plain nasty.” “Enough already. Let’s get this show on the road.” Satan arranged his tablet PC at an angle. “Lucifer, want to fill us in on what you’ve learned?” “I’ll get the lights.” Demon tipped his chair back and flipped a wall switch. A headshot came into a blurred half-focus on the far wall. “This is Han Thein. He’s the nephew of the senior general who rules Bynamar, and he’s the second in command at the visa office in Manhattan. I know the pic’s


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fuzzy, but that’s the best shot of him I could find. The man’s paranoid, reclusive, and ruthless.” Jess studied the man’s features. “And why are we interested in him? Aside from the fact that he was on Aung’s list?” “Think of it as throwing a wide net to see what we catch,” Satan replied. Devil squeezed her hand. “Lucifer goes at his own pace.” And had a peculiar way of thinking, but Jess didn’t say that aloud. “This is a still of Charles Smith entering your building.” Lucifer hit a remote. “And this is a tape of swing night at Bacchanal approximately seven months ago. Focus on the upper right-hand quadrant.” “Is that Aung? At the edge of the screen?” Lucifer centered a laser pointer. “Bingo. Now follow the laser. Here. There. And here. With me so far?” The sinkhole opening up in Jess’s stomach widened. “Han Thein, Charles Smith, and Aung were there the same night. It could be a simple coincidence. Who’s the other guy?” Devil shook his head. “That’s why we throw a wide net. To find coincidences. They’re our red flags.” “This new shot is from two months later. Look who’s entering the club together.” Lucifer wielded the laser pointer again. “Aung and the guy from before, the stranger. I don’t understand. Who is he? And how long ago did you say this was?” Jess squinted at the photo. “This was taken seven months ago. The guy with Aung at Bacchanal in that last shot is her boyfriend. His real name’s Stwe Chinlee, but he uses the American equivalent of his name, Steve. He and Aung are in the same philosophy class at NYU. They started dating approximately seven months ago.” Jess shook her head. “She only told me about him a few weeks ago. Now I’m really confused. The only thing these people have in common is Bacchanal. Are you

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thinking this is some sort of sex crime? And why would that make someone try to kidnap me?” “At this point, all we’re doing is trying to find coincidences and see if there are any connections,” Demon answered. “The trick is not to jump to conclusions.” She understood their strategy but found it nigh impossible not to think ahead and infer. Devil covered her hand with his. “Lucifer, can you do a composite shot of all four?” “That’s my next screen. What we have here is a series of extraordinary coincidences. Stwe Chinlee aka Steve at Bacchanal nine months ago. Aung there the same night, but they’re not together. Charles Smith and Han also there on the same night.” “And two months later, they’re all there again, but now Aung and Steve are together?” Jess’s gaze flicked between the divided screen, one image dated nine months ago, the other seven. What were the odds that the same people would be there at the same time but two months apart? “I take it Steve is also from Bynamar?” Demon asked. Devil rubbed her hand between his, but the iciness in her fingertips didn’t abate. “No, he was born here, the son of missionary parents. His father was on a mission in Bynamar. Devil, you went through the diary. Times, places?” Lucifer leaned back in his chair. “Aung and Steve hooked up seven months ago. They have missing relatives in common. Aung’s sister and Steve’s father are both unaccounted for since that tsunami hit Bynamar a year ago. Since then the Bynamarian embassy has refused to grant visas to relatives in America.”


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“She never once mentioned missing relatives. I can’t believe that she wouldn’t have told me about something so devastating.” Had she known Aung at all? Jess blinked when the lights came back on. “You said she was reticent about her family,” Devil reminded her. “It still doesn’t make sense. Okay, I’ll try not to jump to conclusions. I can see why Aung and Steve connected. Mutual misery. But why did they go to Bacchanal? And how is Charles Smith involved?” Jess looked from Devil to Lucifer. “Han Thein is the second in command at the Bynamar visa office. The only way you get a visa to Bynamar is if he approves the application. Han Thein is a platinum member at Bacchanal. Steve needed a visa.” Demon shrugged. “So you think Aung and Steve were trying to connect with Han at Bacchanal to get a visa?” Jess welcomed the added heat when Devil draped an arm over her shoulder. “It makes sense. What doesn’t is Smith. What’s his play in all this? There’s no way that the four of them—Han, Aung, Steve, and Smith—being at Bacchanal on the same night nine and seven months ago is a coincidence. That I don’t buy.” “Agreed, Lucifer. Can we link Smith to Jess’s condo aside from the security camera? Did we or the police get any evidence from any of the other burglarized residences? Was it Smith’s company who emptied Aung’s apartment?” Satan rattled out the questions while flipping through pages on his tablet. “Big fat noes to the first two questions. As far as the moving company goes, all I have to go on is Jess’s questioning of Aung’s landlady. She’s not at home, and she’s stopped newspaper delivery for three weeks. That’s all I’ve got. Jess, have you any idea of where the landlady could’ve gone?” “No. I’ve only met the landlady twice. All I know is that her whole life revolves around various soap operas. She’s oblivious to anything if one of her shows is on.” “This is getting us nowhere. Lucifer, keep digging into Han. Find the landlady. I want a list of every move Smith’s company made in the last year. Let’s reorg them by region, ethnicity, destination—everything you can think of, and see if there’s a

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discernible pattern. How long?” Satan didn’t even glance at Lucifer but continued to sort through screens. “Depends upon if Smith’s paper or software. Paper files means a physical break-in. Software is easier. I can give you an estimate after we’re done here.” “Done, Luce. Sinner, can you tap into Bynamar’s visa record system?” “Peasy. You want the last year of applications for visas?” “No. Go back to the date of the tsunami. And I want everything on this Steve— where he pissed, who he screwed, every detail. Jessica.” Her neck muscles knotted at the tone of Satan’s voice. She swallowed. “Yes.” “Take off your earrings.” “What?” She touched the pink pearls. “My earrings?” Only then did she notice the jeweler’s box to the right of Satan’s tablet. “We’re substituting yours for ones with implanted GPS.” She blinked, stared at Satan. “You can’t be serious.” “Don’t argue, Jess. Devil wanted to implant a GPS under your skin. I talked him out of it. Demon, we ready to return Jess to her condo?” “I haven’t been able to trace where the camera feeds are going. But I’m set up to piggyback once they start transmitting again. The bugs are another matter. Virtually impossible to trace. Jess can go back to her place tomorrow.” Jess rubbed the back of her neck, but the creepy-crawlies wouldn’t go away. “You can’t be serious. I’m not going back there. Not knowing someone’s watching me.” “It’s the only way we can trace who’s watching you. We need you to do this.” She broke into a cold sweat and couldn’t suppress a shudder. “Is there no other way?” “This is our best lead. We can get results fast. If Aung is still alive, every second counts.”


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“If Aung is still alive.” Jess took a deep breath. She’d never imagined reacting like this, had considered her past devils long buried. “How long will I have to stay there?” “Someone on the other side has to activate the cameras. Once the cameras are transmitting, then the trace starts. Whoever’s doing this is good. The transmissions are erased the second the images are stored. There’s no telling two things. One, when the cameras will be activated. Two, the complexity of the scrambling they’ll use for the transmissions. It could be minutes or days.” Demon shrugged. Her worst nightmare. Being watched. Images she’d tried to erase blinded her vision. For long moments, she saw not the conference room, not Demon or any of the others, but her great-aunts, their beady eyes, the cold, reproving stares. “Jess?” Devil cradled her chin. He gave her a little shake. “Jess.” She jerked out of his hold. “I need a minute.” “What’s going on? Why is she so freaked out?” Demon shot out of his chair. “She’s going to pass out.” You can do this. Breathe. In. Out. Think of Aung. Frances and Louise are long dead and gone. “No.” Jess swallowed. “I’m good. I’m assuming there is more of a plan than me being watched by some stranger?” “Yes.” Not wanting to meet the three pairs of eyes boring a hole in her skull, Jess focused on changing her earrings for the new ones. “Want to fill me in?” “Devil, is she up to this?”

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“Damn it.” Jess narrowed her eyes. “Don’t talk about me as if I’m not here, Demon Seed. That’s the second warning. Do it again and you will regret it. I promise you.” She fisted her hands at the satisfied glance Demon and Devil exchanged. “You did that on purpose.” Demon rolled a shoulder. “Got the desired reaction.” “Let’s get back on track. We don’t have a plan as much as a strategy. We’re taking a three-pronged approach. One, tracing the camera feed. Two, investigating the landlady, Han, Steve, Smith, Aung, and the visa office. Three, getting backgrounds on all Bacchanal platinum members. We are dealing with a group who’s organized and resourceful, and you’re their target.” Satan held Jess’s gaze hostage, and her stomach hollowed with each word he spoke. “To summarize. Aung went to Bacchanal. She disappeared. A moving company emptied her flat. Charles Smith, the owner of a moving company, is a platinum Bacchanal member. You went to Bacchanal. Someone tries to kidnap you, and your condo’s trashed. Charles Smith shows up in your building the same night your condo’s burglarized. If that hadn’t happened, I’m not sure we would have done a sweep of your place and found the bugs and cameras. Have I left anything out?” Lucifer’s gaze swept to each of his team members. “What about Tron? He’s mentioned in the list of suspects.” Jess peeked at Devil to find him glaring at her. “He’s a Bacchanal platinum member and therefore included in our investigative net,” Lucifer answered. “Anything left to discuss?” “Yes. By now Tribal and Ram would have let slip that Demon won Jessica at the auction. We’re known for threesomes, so we’re counting on everyone assuming he and I are sharing her.” “You have to be kidding?” Jess twisted to stare at Devil. “Why?”


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“To throw off anyone who’s watching you. If we’re in a threesome, then it’s normal for either me or Demon or both of us to be with you. It throws the attention off the firm.” “It’s a good cover, Jess. Devil and I did this often a few months ago. Hopefully whoever’s after you will assume there’s no other connection. Even you being here right now fits in to the scheme of things.” Demon’s argument made sense. But she still wanted to brain both men. The muscles in her cheek hurt when she bared her teeth in imitation of a grin. “Well, I guess that means I’ll have to shower you with tons of affection, Demon Seed.” “Don’t. Try.” Devil glared at Demon. “So much as graze her and you’re minced meat.” Satan rolled his eyes. “And on that professional, mature note, this meeting’s adjourned. Just do me a favor, Jess, and don’t call the ER. Even if they beat each other senseless.” “I promise not to lift a finger.” Jess gathered her iPad and purse. “While I know I should be expressing my thanks, you’ll excuse me if I can’t choke the words out. If one hint of this finds its way to my clients, I’m toast. The irony of it all.” “Why would that be so? Any publicity is good publicity, no?” “For my clients, Dominix Zubiri, my clients, not me. A PR specialist does not draw attention to herself. I’ve spent years building my rep. Making sure there’s no hint of scandal attached to my name. And just like that—you train wreck me.” She snapped her fingers. “It’s done. Deal with it. Where are you going?” Devil lurched to his feet, but Jess had two strides on him and made it out of the room and down the hallway. She didn’t even try for the elevator and ducked into the stairwell, hoping he wouldn’t anticipate her actions. When she had to grab the banister to prevent a tumble, Jess acknowledged that taking the stairs fast in high heels might not have been a good idea. She shoved the door open.

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“Where do you think you’re going?” She almost fell trying to avoid bumping into Devil’s folded arms. “How on earth did you get down here so fast?” “Superpowers.” The stairwell door closed behind her. She glared at him. “Ha-ha. So fricking funny. Lordy, you’re rubbing off on me. I don’t swear. I wanted two minutes without your overwhelming company. Do you mind?” “I won’t take chances with your safety, Jess. And the only way I can be sure you’re safe is if you’re with me or one of the squad. The threesome thing is the best possible cover we could ever get. For what it’s worth, I don’t anticipate word of it getting beyond Bacchanal platinum members and staff. I’ll make sure Tribal and Ram keep their traps shut as far as nonmembers go.” Dominix looked exhausted, and he did have dark circles under his eyes, although she’d been right. Somehow the shadows, the stubble, his hooded stare, all added to his brooding allure. Her nipples pearled, and the scrape of the bra’s silk on the sensitized peaks zinged straight to her clitoris. He frowned. “What? Are you going to be annoyed for the rest of the day?” If only. Her ability to stay angry with him for more than five minutes didn’t stand a chance in the face of his concern or the image of his penis. She’d gone from prude to wanton in the space of, what? Four days. “No.” She checked her watch. “It’s almost noon. Destiny’s baby shower’s at one. I called a cab on the way down.” “I’ll drop you there. Where’re we going?” Devil guided her forward, his palm cupping the base of her spine. “You can cancel the cab in the car.” “Chat Noir.” She gave him the directions. “This isn’t going to work. You can’t be with me all the time. We’ll end up wanting to kill each other.” “Get used to my company. You’re my number one priority. Dial the cab number.”


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“Don’t bulldoze me. I’ll cancel the cab, but you are not staying for the shower.” He blanched. “I have no intentions of staying. I’ll drop you there, check things out, and pick you up when it’s over.” Jess ignored him and cancelled the cab. She waited until they reached the tearoom and then said, “Destiny’s mother-in-law and I have already agreed to go back to the city together. She’ll drop me at my condo.” “No. I don’t want you alone in that condo. Not for a second.” That reminded her of the cameras, the watcher, or watchers. “Okay. You win. I’ll call you when things are winding down.” “How long will it last?” “Forty women at a baby shower? Three hours minimum.” Devil couldn’t hide his automatic recoil at the female count. “Are they all in there already?” She hadn’t realized they’d arrived at Chat Noir. “No. We’re early. Why?” “I want to check out the place.” “Honestly, Dominix. It’s a tearoom. Don’t you think you’re overreacting?” “And what if something happened? Do you think I could live with that?” “Have it your way. But while you’re casing the joint, so to speak, I’ll be finalizing the arrangements with the manager.” The minute they stepped into Chat Noir, the manager spotted Jess and approached her. “Jessica. How lovely to see you again. I’m relieved you’re so early. I had to make a couple of last-minute menu substitutions and wanted to offer you a choice of ice cream to go with the cake. My way of making up for the changes.” The manager, a woman in her early thirties, spied Dominix and did a double take. She patted her hair, straightened her shoulders, and sent him a dazzling smile. “Welcome. May I be of help?” “He’s with me.”

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Jess dug her fingernails into her palms. Damn it. She didn’t snap and bridle with jealousy. “I am.” Devil shook the woman’s proffered hand and flaunted his rakish grin. Jess so wanted to wipe the smug smile off his face. How to explain him searching the establishment? She went for a small white one. “I hope you don’t mind, but Destiny’s mother-in-law is the wife of a diplomat, and this gentleman must verify everything’s secure.” “Oh.” The manager’s lips curved. “Of course. I’ll be happy to show you around.” Jess gritted her teeth when Devil flashed the manager the mischievous smile that addled the brains of women of all ages and marital statuses. And refused to look at the manager for verification. “No need, ma’am. I actually prefer to check the place alone.” “Are you sure? It’s absolutely no problem.” The manager fluttered her overly mascaraed eyelashes. Really, they looked like spider legs coated in sooty charcoal. “Actually, if there are any locked areas, I will need access to them.” Jess heard the repressed chuckle in his tone. The bastard. He knew. Knew she seethed with jealousy. The manager deflated, the light in her eyes dimmed. “There’s a small office, but it’s not locked.” “I’d like to taste the ice cream before the guests start arriving.” For the life of her, Jess couldn’t chase the terseness from her voice. “If you don’t mind.” “Of course. Please go ahead, Mister…?” The manager didn’t draw back when Devil brushed past her in the narrow space. “Dominix Zubiri. Thank you. I appreciate your cooperation.” Jess could’ve sworn Devil’s black eyes had been gold-plated they glittered so brilliantly. Her hands fisted.


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“Call me when you women are winding things up, babe.” With that, he hauled her against him and kissed her senseless, dipping her low over the hand supporting her back. She blinked and couldn’t do anything to stop the warmth spreading over her cheeks after he flicked her chin and vanished into the bowels of the room. “I take it you two are together.” The manager didn’t bother to hide the tartness in her tone. “Very.” Jess grinned. Had someone turned on the sun? The dim lighting in the room seemed brighter. She moved on autopilot and made appropriate murmurs of appreciation after tasting several ice cream flavors. At twelve thirty, Destiny and her mother-in-law arrived. Within half an hour, all forty female guests poured through Chat Noir’s doors, and sanity and organization went the way of the dinosaurs. The shower proved a riot. Destiny, at that mother-earth ripe stage of pregnancy, had never looked more beautiful. Her olive complexion glowed, her eyes twinkled, her hair fell in glossy waves to midback. Halfway through the afternoon the baby went on a kicking spree. “Feel it.” Destiny grabbed Jess’s hand. “Here. Go ahead. Press down a little.” Jess flinched and jumped when she felt the sharp jerk against her palm. She stared at the floral print covering Destiny’s swollen stomach. “That’s amazing. It’s so strong.” “Yeah. Makes me teary every time. Mind you, it gets a little old at four in the morning.” Jess’s attention wandered back to Destiny’s tummy too many times to count over the next hour. Next birthday she turned thirty. If she got pregnant before the year ended, she’d be almost forty when the baby was nine. Her biological clock had begun ticking down.

***

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“You’re very quiet.” Devil had helped Sinner pack all the presents into his car. They both watched as Destiny and Sinner pulled away from the curb. “Did everything go according to plan?” “It went better than planned. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Destiny so happy. It was perfect.” “Jess?” He framed her face, stared into her eyes. “I figured out a way to keep your reputation pristine.” “Hmm.” What would their son look like? Black eyes were dominant. Lordy, a boy with her eyes and his coloring would knock the female gender into outer space. “Let’s get engaged.”


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Chapter Seven “I beg your pardon. Please. Repeat. That.” Jess hissed the last three words. She looked like an angry tiger, twin pupils mere dots, the blue irises surrounding them flashing yellow glints under the streetlights. When she jabbed fists onto her hips, Devil knew he was toast. The heavens took pity on him and unloaded. Turned out a torrential downpour didn’t have the effect he hoped for. A cold, bucketing rainfall should have cooled her temper. “I could cheerfully murder you right now.” Even though he’d bundled her into the pickup right away, she was completely drenched. Scrunching her hair to one side, she squeezed the locks. Water dripped onto her coat, and she glared at him as if that was somehow his fault. Women. No, not women. Jess. “Let’s get engaged.” She threw quotation marks around the words, her hands doing quick, violent jerks. An anatomical wisdom he hadn’t known his body possessed strangled his vocal cords. “And exactly how is that supposed to solve everything? I cannot believe you. Men. You all think with your penises.” Penises. He cringed. No warrior liked that word. How did getting engaged equate to thinking with his dick?

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“Tell me. Am I supposed to be engaged to only you, or is the Demon Seed part of this bright idea?” At any moment, Devil expected to hear the sounds of a zillion fajitas sizzling. He figured the steam in the cab had to be oozing from her pores. Two miles to go. Fuck. She’d hit the roof when they got home. His stomach growled in the momentary quiet, and she shot him a scowl that would make the devil himself shield his face with his hands. “Don’t even think about it. If you even dare suggest going someplace for dinner, I’ll—I’ll throw something at you.” Devil pulled into the driveway and killed the engine five minutes later. Survival instincts kept his lips glued together. He dreaded her reaction when they entered the house. Welcoming the cold sting of the pelting drops, he exited the truck and didn’t bother to unfurl the umbrella until he opened the passenger door. A crack of lightning exploded, white and hot in the darkness. Not a second later, thunder erupted. Short, sharp gusts whipped in all directions at once. The umbrella spines went vertical. Devil threw the useless tool into the pickup’s tray, hauled Jessica into his arms, and raced for the house. They were completely soaked by the time he managed to unlock the door and get them into the cottage. None of the automatic lights came on. Jess’s teeth chattered, and he stifled a curse. Setting her down, he ordered, “Get out of that coat. In fact, take off your clothes. It looks like we’re off the grid, and the temperature’s going to drop like a bomb. The last thing either of us needs is to catch a chill. There’s a blanket on the couch. Think you can find it while I get a flashlight?” “Ye-es. Off the grid?” “Electrical grid. We’re not on the main one for the island. When something blows, any building this way’s the first they shed. And the last they restore.” “Oh. Are we without power for the night then?”


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He repressed a sigh. The fury that had lowered her voice two octaves had disappeared. “Probably. I have a gas stove, so we’re okay for food. And I have a good log supply. So we’ll be warm.” Devil dropped his coat onto the kitchen counter and opened a drawer. He found two flashlights, set the oversize one on the island, and popped the switch. The light beamed onto the ceiling. He glanced at the couch, and a surge of satisfaction warmed him inside out at her jaw-dropped stance. He might have screwed the whole situation with his blurted proposal, but from her expression, the rose petals and the dozens of candles scattered in front of the fireplace had taken the edge off her anger. Their gazes met. Devil absorbed every nuance. The way her eyes, already huge in her face because of the wet hair plastered to her cheeks, became impossibly wider. She glanced at the candles, then at him, scooped a handful of pink petals off the couch, brought them to her nose, and then her lips quivered. When a lone drop rolled down her cheek, his heart ached. He was at her side before the crystal tear plopped onto her half-off coat. “Please don’t cry.” He’d lose it if she did. “I’m a complete asshole. I don’t deserve you. I fucked up earlier. And I don’t do this shit well.” “Oh shut up, Dominix. And hold me. Just hold me.” She shrugged off her coat. It plonked onto the floor, and petals scattered like little pink clouds. A shudder racked through him when her arms closed around his waist. He closed his eyes and prayed. Buried his nose in her wet hair and inhaled, held her tight against him. “I’ve been in minefields. Got caught dozens of times in ambushes. Been certain I wouldn’t survive a raid. And none of that has anything on this.” She tried to draw back, but he couldn’t let her, not yet. “I’m in love with you. I know there are huge issues we have to resolve—” Her hand pressed his mouth. She stared at him with that secret woman smile curving her lips. “I have news for you. You do this shit very well.”

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A fucking grenade could’ve exploded under his feet right then and he would’ve died a happy man. “I do?” “Yes.” She wriggled her eyebrows, and a hint of mischief had her eyes twinkling. His hearing had that hollow roaring that water in the ears caused, and he needed her to repeat the words a kazillion times. “Care to elaborate?” All at once, she went serious, her mouth firming. “I think I’ve been fighting falling in love with you from that first dance at Destiny and Sinner’s wedding.” And she was still fighting her feelings, he realized. But she’d said the L word in connection with him, and he could work with that. Would work with that. Don’t lose it, Zubiri. Play it cool. Don’t crowd her. She shivered. He kissed the tip of her nose. “Out of those wet clothes. Don’t move. I’ll get towels and then start a fire.” Jess had fucking agreed to be with him. Or had she? Crap. She’d agreed to something, something that involved more time with him. That was good enough. He’d kicked ass big-time on lower odds. Wearing a humungous cheek-aching grin, he rushed down the hallway, grabbed a couple of towels from the bathroom, and hurried back to the great room. She’d taken off her clothes but still wore her bra and panties. With the muted light gilding her hair and the rosy hue dusting her complexion, she looked like an angel, a sex-goddess angel glowing with rosy innocence. Shaking his head, Devil forced a practicality he didn’t feel. “Out of the undies.” While she shrugged off the underwear, he attacked her wet hair. She winced and took the towel from him. “You need to get out of your clothes too. And you need some food.”


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She wanted to take care of him. Something struck his craw shut, and he near lost it. Not wanting to let any stupid phrase like will you marry me escape his throat, Devil tried for distraction. “Can you cook?” “I make a mean PBJ.” Her chin leveled in a say-one-word-and-you’re-in-for-it dare. Keeping his mouth shut had earned him the best reward of all: Jess. But he couldn’t resist. “Peanut butter here.” He tugged on her nipples. “Jelly here.” He slid a finger through her folds, and his dick, never less than half-hard around Jess, saluted. “You are not distracting me, babe. First a fire to get you warm, and then my PBJ.” “Me distracting you?” She glanced at the erection attempting to burst through his wet jeans, and rolled her eyes. Stepping away from him, she tied the towel sarong-style over one shoulder and winked. “I’ll make you a real PBJ, and after you eat, we can discuss your other preferences.” “Now that’s a definite deal. After I’m done with the fire, I’ll get us a bottle of champagne. Can you double up on that sandwich?” “Sure.” She sauntered to the kitchen. He bent to the log basket next to the grate and groaned. “I need to get wood from the shed.” “It’s thundering and lightning out there. Can’t we use what’s there? I don’t like the idea of you being out in that storm.” “You worried about me?” “Of course.” What a wuss, making her say the words just so he got that warm and fuzzy feeling. Man up, Zubiri. He flicked his shirt collar. “I’ll be back in a flash.” “Uh-uh. Not without your coat. That wind’s howling, and you can’t see anything through the glass doors but the pounding rain. You really don’t want to

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test my nursing talents by contracting pneumonia.” She grabbed his coat, shook it, and moved toward him. “Ouch. What do you have in the pocket?” “Don’t.” He snatched the garment from her, shot the ceiling a quick cananything-else-go-wrong squint, and extracted the holstered gun he’d taken from the office safe earlier. Jess hugged her arms and stared at his GLOCK. “I shouldn’t be surprised. You are in the security business. I’ve never even seen a gun up close. I could’ve dropped it. It could’ve gone off.” “The safety’s on. You couldn’t have harmed either yourself or me. And it’s in a holster.” She didn’t look convinced. He removed the pistol, set the holster on the couch, and tucked the .45 into the back of his waistband before shrugging on the coat. “Are you going to be all right while I’m gone?” “Yes. Hurry back though, okay?” His insides warmed by her concern, Devil kissed her cheek. “I will.” The storm had the makings of a full-blown nor’easter. The winds had to be topping the bottom of the hurricane range. Not a single fall leaf remained on the line of maples near the shed. He kept his head bent and fought the icy breeze, halting when a gust whipped the unbuttoned raincoat over his face. As he wrestled with the coat, his peripheral vision caught a glimpse of a shadow moving in the clearing beyond the trees. He snatched the gun from his waistband and ran for the shed. Devil flicked the GLOCK’s safety. Taking cover and leaning against the side, he peered around the edge of the siding. Nothing.


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He waited, his gaze sweeping the area. But the blackness was absolute. And between the roaring wind, the cracks of breaking branches, and the waves pounding the beach, his hearing wouldn’t pick up a yodeling Swiss hiker, far less a stealthy intruder. Someone had been there. Every instinct told him so. Fuck. Jess was alone in the house. The shed’s door was unlocked. He never left anything unlocked. But Demon had spent the night, and the garage apartment wasn’t fully wired. Still… Devil sprinted back to the house. Mud sucked at his boots and his lungs burned from the ice in the air, but he set a record and covered the ninety feet in seconds. Every instinct screamed when he threw the door open and couldn’t spy Jess anywhere. He kick-slammed the door and shouted, “Jess!” Devil assumed combat stance. Knees bent, gun aimed, he scanned corner to corner and yelled, “Jessica. Where are you?” He grabbed the flashlight from the kitchen counter and checked the room again. Three lit candles on the kitchen counter captured his attention; he moved on. Two wineglasses stood next to a plate draped with a cloth in the center of the dining table. A pile of crumpled newspaper sheets lay in the log grate. She’d made the sandwiches. Crumpled the newspaper. No signs of a struggle. His caked boots squelched on the wood as he moved to the hallway. No noise. No sound at all but for his movements. Bathroom? He’d have heard the shower running. But she could be doing some woman thing.

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The flashlight on the kitchen counter behind his back and the flickering candles cast his shadow before him, hindering his distance vision. The far end of the corridor yielded nothing but darkness. His gut did a gymnastic tumble when he detected the perfume she’d worn this morning halfway to the master bedroom. Still not a fricking peep. No toilet flushing. No bare feet slapping the wood. No hint of the blanket swishing as she walked. He refused to accept what his senses had already deduced. Jess wasn’t in the house. Fear iced his fingertips. If she’d been taken… He

shook

his

head,

and

his

brain

went

into

trained

lockdown.

Compartmentalize. Isolate. Resolve. Eliminate possibilities. Keeping his movements sleek and silent, he switched on the flashlight and checked the master bedroom and the bathroom. The wet bristles on her toothbrush plus the candle near the sink confirmed she’d been there while he’d been in the shed. A dresser drawer slightly askew caught his attention. His boxer and wifebeater drawer. She knew how much he liked seeing her in his underwear. He checked the two other bedrooms hastily, not expecting nor finding any evidence of her presence. Devil knew he had to do three things pronto. Check the basement, radio Satan, get the team here ASAP, and start hunting for her. The tight monk-style twisted staircase to the basement had been one of the reasons he’d paid so little for the property. To say it didn’t meet modern-day handicapped standards didn’t capture the other obvious deterrent to a quick sale. No overweight person could ever have squeezed down the basement steps. Devil had to bend almost in half to avoid smacking his skull on the low ceiling. He hadn’t been able to eliminate the musky dungeonlike odor that seeped from the


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basement’s walls in the seven months living in the house. The aroma added a bitterness to the acerbic taste of defeat flooding his mouth. He’d failed her. Failed to protect Jess. Just as he’d always failed to protect everyone he’d ever loved. The steel door at the bottom of the stairs stood ajar. He never left any door ajar. Clenching his jaw, he eased the door open and risked a quick splay with the flashlight to scan what was his carpenter’s work area. Every tool was in place. The free arm saw hung on the far wall. The claw hammer next to it. Jack plane opposite. He straightened, stalked across the room, and flung open the door to the wine cellar. “Devil!” Jess’s piercing shriek shredded his eardrums. His heart went into full drop-dead attack zone. She stood there, jammed against a wine rack, all the color drained from her skin, one hand clasped to her heaving chest, the other hand holding a bottle. Only by fisting his hands did Devil refrain from shaking her till every single fricking bone rattled. “Couldn’t you have fucking left a note?” Devil slammed a fist into the wall and closed his eyes, absorbing the pain shocking his synapses. He’d gone from terrified to so fucking relieved that fury had his limbs shaking. He welcomed the pain. “Why are you yelling?” She held the wine against her chest. “You scare the daylights out of me, and you have the nerve to be angry?” He opened his mouth. Snapped his teeth together. Remembered Demon’s advice: explain your actions. “I couldn’t find you. There are people after you. I jumped to conclusions.”

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“Oh.” She ducked her head, rubbed a socked foot along the baseboard. “I wanted to surprise you.” Only then did Devil notice the cheerleader outfit. His dick went ballistic. Lust zapped anger in less than an inhale. He ran a tongue over dry lips. “Cheerleader?” He couldn’t croak another word. “Um. I kind of feel foolish.” She waved a hand at the red and white striped bra top held together by a simple knot, the short flared skirt, and the matching socks. “Not foolish. Very sexy.” Panties under the flirty skirt? She adjusted the skirt’s hem. “You approve?” “Fuck yes.” Get your shit together. Secure the premises first. Fuck after. “Destiny lent it to me. She has a whole bunch of outfits.” She rolled her eyes. “Including a schoolgirl uniform. Apparently schoolgirls and cheerleaders rank high on most men’s fantasy list.” She had turned the most delicious shade of bright pink he’d ever seen. His stones knitted tight on his pubes. Survivor mode kept a trickle of blood flowing to his dazed brain, and her words permeated. He gulped. “Catholic schoolgirl? Plaid skirt, socks, and a tie?” Her eyes widened. She blinked. “OMG—it is true. All men have that fantasy.” “Yeah, well, not my version.” Crap. Those words hadn’t actually jumped out of his mouth. “Oh.” She gave him a half-lidded peek, a saucy smile, and coupled the sexkitten moves with a delicious shoulder shrug. “What’s your version?” You on all fours. Ass in the air. Fighting me for it. You are so not getting punch drunk on that image, Zubiri. Man fucking up.


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“Nothing I want more right this fricking second than to bury my face in your juices. But first I need to lock down the house.” He fingered a turning motion. “Upstairs. You first. I am going to enjoy every second of your cute ass peeking out from under that skirt.” Her eyes danced, the blue in them so brilliant his throat went parched. “I think I’m going to enjoy this.” “Stairs. Pronto.” She obeyed him without a hint of hesitation. Kept throwing him over-theshoulder looks and doing a bump and grind to flip the skirt higher with each slow step, and he went from simmer to combustion. She had the finest rump ridges in the universe, those tight, sweet curves where ass and thighs met. And by the fifth step, her golden pubes and rosy pucker hole played a hide-and-seek show that had his cock at eruption stage. Devil knew he was an inhale from abandoning every security rule drummed into his thick head. Maybe Demon had left the shed open. He glanced up. Fricking froze. He’d purposely closed the door at the top of the stairs. Light, bright and white, filtered through the forty-five-degree space between door frame and door. Devil leaped two steps, snatched Jess, girthed her tight onto his chest, and pressed a hand over her mouth. She arched her head. Their eyes met. He glanced to the door. She followed the direction of his gaze. Comprehension feathered the sigh blowing through his fingers, and she looked back at him and nodded. He loosened his hold and removed his hand from her mouth. She cooperated when he tucked her behind him, and complied when he hand-mimed a stay-there order.

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GLOCK primed, Devil sidled to the door, flattened his torso, and shifted his weight forward. Before he could take a deep inhale and jump into the living room, Devil glimpsed a familiar shadow. The low zinging of a cicada call flitted to his ears. He returned the distinctive mating sound of the magicicada—a species known for its seventeen-year life span— and waited. He shrugged off the tension in his hunched shoulders when a familiar insect chorus erupted, lowered his arm, and shoved the door wide. “To what do I owe this honor?” Devil surveyed his fellow Hades Squad team members interspersed at strategic locations throughout the room. “All four of you?” Lucifer, Demon, Sinner, and Satan relaxed their at-ready positions. “You didn’t tell him?” Lucifer shot Demon a scowl. “Tell me what?” “I installed a ring perimeter last night. It’s set it on auxiliary power.” Demon tucked his gun into his waistband. “Alarms went off about an hour ago.” Shit. “I did see someone earlier, then.” “Yeah, you did. Three tangos. We noticed you were off the grid. Figured things could go antsy.” Satan relaxed his stance and glanced at the door to the basement. “Dominix, is that the rest of the squad?” Jess’s question resonated in the tunnel-like stairwell. “Yeah. The gang’s all here.” Devil clicked the safety on his gun, walked to the table, and set the .45 down. “Thanks for the emergency lights.” They’d brought six battery-operated lamps and three oil lanterns, and all were at full throttle. “What’s wrong? Why are all of you here? Oh my goodness—it’s not Destiny, is it?” Jess worried too much. Devil spun around to go and reassure her and halted midspin when he glimpsed the jaw-dropped expressions on his friends’ faces. Fuck. The cheerleader outfit.


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“I didn’t see that.” Demon did an about-turn and faced the door. Jess went seventeen shades of every red hue under the sun. She crossed her arms over her bared midriff. The bottle of wine hit her thigh, and she winced. Sinner’s face rivaled the color of a ripe McIntosh. Lucifer and Satan trained their gazes on the ceiling. Devil grabbed the blanket and threw it around Jess’s shoulders. “We brought you a generator. Which we will install pronto.” Satan marched past Devil and Jess. She didn’t say a word until they’d all filed out of the house. “Do you think he recognized it?” “What?” Devil was so relieved to see the last of the squad leave, his brain hadn’t started firing again. “Destiny’s outfit.” She plucked at the striped skirt, and the scarlet tassels did a flamboyant twirl. “First it was the Demon Seed at Bacchanal. Now Destiny’s outfit and all of them. How am I ever going to look any of them in the face again?” Devil tried to find a positive. “Look at it this way. Things can’t get worse.” “Now we’re doomed. You had to say those four words. Murphy is so going to outdo himself on us.” Jess flopped onto the couch, rested her chin on her knees, and wrapped the blanket so nothing but her face showed. She looked like a lost urchin. This was going downhill in a heartbeat. Not going to happen. His cock and mouth had definite plans for the rest of the night: juices and heat. “Murphy can go where the sun doesn’t shine. Come on.” He pulled her up. “That cute little outfit’s not going to waste. Once they get the generator going, we’ll have hot water. You are going to draw a bath and relax while I hustle them out of here.”

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“A hot bath would be heavenly.” Her complexion had returned to normal, and she flashed him a tremulous half smile. “I’ll be okay. You go ahead and help them. By the time you’re done, I’ll have the bath ready for the both of us.” “That’s my cheerleader.” He chucked her chin. “Keep your phone near you and call if you hear anything out of the ordinary.” Devil hurried outside and caught up with his friends at the shed. “Where’re we at?” “Generator’s up and running. Perimeter’s reset. And I added a few extra cameras and motion detectors.” Demon untied the bandana knotted around his neck and wiped his face. “Owe you one. Who’s receiving?” Devil knew Satan had an intensive backup generator system that could power every tech gadget, and he had a kazillion in his house and then some. “Me. We’ll extend that to Sinner and Lucifer tomorrow. When we get back to my place, we’ll analyze the feeds from the camera in detail. The prelim glimpse I had showed three tangos.” Satan finished hammering a new padlock loop in place. The pelting, icy rain added an extra shiver to the ones doing a stomp on Devil’s spine. “Three? What the fuck’s going on? I refuse to believe this is all related to a visa application.” “Not much we can do about it tonight.” Satan dragged a hand through his hair. “Demon’s going to stand guard in the room over the garage. I’m going to start work on the camera feeds. Let’s meet at the office around noon tomorrow.” “Can’t. We have my godson’s birthday party tomorrow at four. Why not meet at my place at noon? Destiny and Jess can do the party stuff, and we can strategize.” Sinner’s gaze swept the men standing in the shed. “Done deal.” Satan stifled a yawn. “Demon, can you finish this up? Lucifer and I have a meeting with Tribal and Ram in four hours.” Demon grabbed the hammer. “Later.”


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Lucifer and Satan vanished from sight within seconds. “No need to stay here.” Demon jerked a thumb at the cottage. “Get back to Jess.” “I’m going to set up trip wires throughout the house and around the pool before I turn in. Don’t arrive in the morning without phoning first.” Devil rubbed his temples. No way could he make love to Jess without adding an extra layer of protection. “I caught a glimpse of that outfit your woman’s wearing. Go to her. I’ll do the trip wiring for the pool and around the outside of the house. You know Satan’s going to watch the property like a hawk tonight. Between me and him, she’s safe. Did she like the flowers and the candles?” Devil didn’t need any more persuasion. “Yeah. I owe you big-time.” “Jump to it, then.” Not wanting to alarm Jess, he stalked down the hallway silently, set the GLOCK at ready in an alcove he’d grooved into the wall by his bed. The extra safety precautions had settled his sniper-in-the-vicinity unease, but he hadn’t been able to come to her until he’d checked the pool and trip wires. No way would his dick have cooperated otherwise. He found Jess testing the water temperature in the huge sunken tub in the master bathroom. Brows quirked, her gaze raked him from head to toe. “Pants and shirt too wet to wear?” Devil grinned. He’d shed every stitch of clothing and hung them in the cabana bath, mainly to avoid dripping down the hall. The gleam in her eyes and the smile tugging at her mouth had his erection dancing to a new tune. “Something like that. No cheerleader I’ve seen could rival you in that outfit. Model it for me.” She peeked up at him and tapped the rising water in the tub. “First you get in the tub. Then I’ll show you my college cheer routine.”

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He gulped. “You were a cheerleader?” “I was on the cheerleading squad, dated the quarterback—” “Nope. Stop right there. This is how you play it. You’re the captain of the cheerleading squad. I’m the quarterback who wants to have his evil way with you. You won’t give me what I want until I make you my girl. And you desperately want to be mine.” Devil held his breath. Would she go along with the role-play? “And how did I end up in your bathroom?” “I brought you here after we had a soda at the diner.” “I can work with that. You get in the tub. We don’t need the lights. I lit enough candles.” She rose, letting the blanket that had been riding her shoulders puddle on the floor. “I’ll be right back.” The hot water had nothing on the fiery desire rocketing through his veins. He’d not only doused the electric lights but had also blown out three of the dozen candles rimming the tub, figuring she’d welcome the courage of the dark. When she shimmied through the doorway, his stomach hurdled into his throat. He didn’t know what she’d done to hike the flirty skirt so the fabric skimmed the middle of her pubic curls, but his dick recognized blatant temptation and rose to the occasion. She went into a tight routine. Quick, sharp arm moves, red pom-poms jiggling in cadence with saucy shoulder shakes, and then the finale, a series of mouthwatering, precum-jetting high kicks. Wired to explode, his fingernails scraping the tub’s rim; he bit his tongue when she did a side split and then a full frontal. Flushed, panting, she threw him a glance so shot with uncertainty that he lurched to his feet and crooked a finger. “Here. Right on the edge. And hold that position.”


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She obeyed him, her movements jerky, hesitant, but sat on the rim, her legs perpendicular, toes pointed. Unable to resist, he ran his hands over her thighs, savoring the curve of her quadriceps, tracing the side line of the biceps femoris, the lean cut of muscle prized by all females. “You are so perfect.” The words came out coarse, rough. “Off with the top.” Fingers trembling, she struggled with the bra top’s knot and wriggled the fabric to the floor, her shoulders doing a provocative dance, perky breasts winking in and out of the candlelight. His mouth watered, and he helped her tug the skirt over her head. Her arousal blossomed; the musky fragrance perfumed the humid room. He parted her folds, and the pungent spice of her arousal went straight to his head. Drunk on her smell, on the silk of her hot pussy lips, he sank to his knees, curled his arms under her thighs, and looked up to meet her gaze. “Mine. Say it.” Her nostrils flared, her lips parted, and she gripped his shoulders. “Mine too.” “You bet.” The grin taking over his mouth could’ve split his face in two. He relished her possessiveness. Her wanting to claim him. “Mine.” “Yours, Dominix.” Holding her stare, he kissed her hooded clit, a light brush with his lips. He took a deep inhale and closed his eyes and held the scent in his lungs, letting it permeate his senses. He nuzzled her labia, lapped one clean, swirling every drop of cream over his tongue, found a spot near the crease of her center that drove her wild. Scraped his teeth up and down the other side, and sawed the slickness from the plumper outer lip. Her legs locked around his head; she went back on her elbows. “Devil. Damn it. Devil.” “Fight me.” He eyed her over a halo of pubic curls. “Make me fucking do what you want, cheerleader.”

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“Your fingers. Use your fingers and your mouth.” She snagged her hand around his head and tried to force him to her center. “Beg.” He trailed a finger around her center, traced the rim, dipped inside, and withdrew the second he heard her gasp. “Beg, cheerleader.” “You can count on payback.”


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Chapter Eight Jess wanted to kill Devil. She no longer had any control over her body but reacted to his tongue, his lips, his teeth, his fingers like a cavewoman. She scratched his back, drummed her heels on his shoulders, and locked her hands around his head. He shook her hold off, reburied his face and nose in her pussy, and slid a finger inside. “Devil.” The wail erupted from her mouth. She wanted more, needed more. “Damn it—I’m begging.” “Uh-uh. Not begging.” He removed his finger, and she gritted her teeth. He rose out of the water, clambered onto the floor, and flipped her over. “Not good enough, cheerleader. On your knees.” When she didn’t respond right away, he swatted her ass. Hard. The sting made her yelp. She glanced back. Trapping her stare, he slapped first one cheek, then the other. Her lungs burned, and her vaginal walls contracted again and again. Another spank. She gasped. A harder smack. The crack of his palm hitting her ass spiked her heartbeat. Without conscious intention, she dropped to her elbows, her bottom presented to him, ass high in the air. “Better, sweet girl. Spread your legs. Let me see that crack widen.”

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Resistance never entered her head. She shifted and lowered, scraping her burning nipples on the cool marble. A wind-driven inferno rushed from her little toes to tingling scalp; the heat sheened her pores. “You want my cock, don’t you?” She nodded, biting down hard on her lip. “Say it. Tell me what you want.” He filled her pussy, the intrusion thicker this time, more than one finger, and she shuddered. One hand connected with her bottom; the other thrust his fingers higher; she arched and keened, the orgasm teetering on the edge. “No, you don’t.” He grabbed her waist with both hands and drew her back so his cock ground through her folds. “No coming until you tell me what you want.” Gritting her teeth, she pushed against his groin, squirming, trying to center her opening over his erection. He growled. One hand slipped under her belly; the other gathered her wrists at the base of her spine. He leaned over. “What you want, cheerleader. Scream it for me.” She twisted and wrenched, but he had her immobile. Every action jammed the head of his cock against her clit, and she wanted to hit him. “Fuck me. Fuck me.” “We ride.” He entered her from behind. Her pussy fought his invasion, her insides squeezing his too-fat cock and contracting around the pulsing length of him. She froze when he retreated and hammered back in, going deeper, and her forehead met the tile. He tugged on her wrists, raised her pelvis, and rocked into her. “Stay up. Cheek on the floor. Present to me, cheerleader; get that ass high and wide.” She rested her cheek on the tile and presented higher and higher until his cock slammed her G-spot with every plunge. Existence boiled down to his cock, her vagina, his balls hitting her swollen folds, his forefinger rubbing her clit on the upstroke. The orgasm lashed through her, a sudden, rumbled explosion that rolled over her toes, rocketed to her clit, and pinged her throbbing nipples.


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Labored breathing rebounded from wall to wall. Musk perfumed the air and filled her lungs. Her whole body strummed. Raw nerve endings ratcheted her internal muscles into an endless stream of violent convulsions. His pounding rode the pain edge and rammed her into another cliff-fall climax. His grip on her waist stung, and he reared and roared and plundered her pussy one final time. Her limbs wouldn’t function, and she couldn’t muster the energy to batter them into compliance. Jess didn’t know how long they remained in the me-Tarzan, you-Jane formation. After a while, the slight burn in her knees went up a notch. Her arms screamed from being held back for so long. The position was so not meant for comfort. But Lordy, she could feel him everywhere. From the occasional plop of sweat onto her back, to his thumb rubbing her wrist, to his lips dropping openmouthed kisses on her back. She wriggled her hips. “Damn.” He was off her and had the two of them in the tub before her blurred vision cleared. “You okay?” Seated in the bath, his back to the tub’s wall, hers to his chest, he turned her head and studied her face. “Talk to me, Jess.” “That was intense.” And then some. Her mind couldn’t digest all that had happened. “Yeah.” His cheeks held a ruddy color. Jess frowned, and a smile tugged at her lips. “You’re blushing.” The color went from ruddy to a dark fuchsia, but he continued to search her features. “You okay with what just went down?” “The spanking? Or the fact you made me beg?” She craned her neck to take in his reactions. His blush deepened. “Or the part where you wanted me to resist?” He heaved a sigh, and his breath tickled her hairline. “No. The fact that I took you places you’ve thought about secretly.”

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She dropped her gaze. How the heck had he known that? “Why do you think that?” “You should’ve seen your face when I swatted your ass.” He traced her brow. “It was the sexiest mixture of outrage, curiosity, and blatant arousal.” Jess met his intense stare. “You got all that from one look?” “No, babe. I got all that because I focused on you and only you. I studied the nuances of every one of your reactions. When I locked your wrists together, your juices went wild.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “And then there were the fucking orgasms. I can watch you come 24-7. You were turned on by all of it. Admit it.” Worrying her lower lip, she searched for the right words, but her brain wouldn’t organize. “Must we do this?” “Yes. Hang on. I want us face-to-face.” He turned her to straddle him. One brow winged up. “What?” She hated that he could read her so well. And that he’d been studying her when she was mindless with passion. It was Frances and Louise all over again. “Can’t we leave well enough alone?” She so didn’t want to do this. “Nope. Nothing festers between us. Not now. Not ever.” He set his finger under her chin. “No avoiding me. You’re clamming up. I can see your mind going into shutdown.” “I don’t see the point of analyzing us to the nth.” When she tried to fold her arms, he captured her hands in each of his. “Okay—no analyzing. Let’s do a free association.” She rolled her eyes. “That’s just so much psychobabble.” “Either that or I pry everything out of you.” “Fine. I get a turn after you.” “My pleasure. Ready?” Jess clenched her jaw but nodded. “Head.”


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“Toe.” “Green.” “Blue.” “Water.” “Fire.” “Spanking.” She blinked. “Bad.” “Sex.” She held her breath. “Messy.” “Pussy.” “Penis.” She glared at him. “Devil.” “Deviant.” “Dominix.” “Enough. This doesn’t prove a damned thing except that I think you’re deviant, sex is messy, and spanking is naughty. Why are we doing this?” She slipped her fingers from his hold. “You want honesty. How’s this for honesty? You scare me to death. You confuse me so much I don’t know which end is up.” “Convenient of you to call a halt when it’s my name next.” His narrow-eyed glower fueled her rising ire. “Really? You actually want to go there? Well, guess what. I didn’t want any of this. I kept my distance. Stayed away from you. For what? It all to go up in flames like it has?” She scrambled to get off him, but he hugged her tight and would not let go. “Let’s not forget two things.” His voice had turned to the velvet, sexy rumble that always did strange things to her insides. “One, I’m in love with you.” Her anger turned to mush. Her eyes pricked. She thunked her head on his chest. “You fight dirty.”

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“I fight to win.” And he had. Won her. Whether she liked it or not. No escaping the fact that she was head over heels, tumbling like Jack and Jill. Would she end up broken? “What’s the other thing?” “You love me back.” His voice held the tiniest hint of a question, and Jess couldn’t let well enough alone. She pushed away from his embrace and searched his face. “I do.” It hurt to see the relief in his eyes. “I really do. So tell me, what do we do now?” “Snuggle. Talk. Sleep. In that order.” He scooped her tight and lurched to his feet. Water whooshed off their bodies. “Time for bed.” She tapped his shoulder when he headed in the direction of the bedroom. “Can we dry off first?” “I would’ve remembered.” He walked back into the bathroom, waggled his brows, kissed her forehead, and slid her down his body. She reached for a towel and began rubbing him down. “Why were the others here?” The rhythm of his breathing changed a tad. He tugged the towel away from her. “We had a few intruders earlier. They broke into the shed.” “A few?” “Three as far as we can tell.” Even though he had wrapped the soft bath sheet around her back, a chill chased goose bumps over her neck. “Three? That’s why you were so upset in the basement. You saw them when you went to the shed? My God, Dominix, what the heck is happening?” Her knees threatened to buckle, and she grabbed on to his arms. The towel plopped onto the floor. He hugged her close. “I don’t know. But I will find out.”


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“You could’ve been hurt.” Saying the words aloud accelerated her already racing heart. She met his stare, caressed his jaw. Couldn’t hold back, needed him to know how she felt. “Promise me you’ll be careful. I want you in my life. I love you.” “You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried, Jess. I fucking love hearing you say that.” She grinned, slid a thumb over his lip. “I might say it more often if you could find another adverb.” “I absolutely love hearing you say that.” He retrieved the towel, dried his back with a vigorous side-to-side rubbing, and flung the material over a rack. “I love you. Absolutely.” But the teasing words couldn’t lighten the sudden dread chasing a shiver over her bare shoulders. “How do you know there were three intruders?” “There are cameras on the property hooked up to an alarm system which also transmits to a server in Satan’s study. He and Demon were in the middle of a game of chess when the alarms went off. They called in Lucifer and Sinner when they saw that there were three intruders.” “I don’t understand. Didn’t you see the intruders earlier when you went to the shed?” She didn’t resist when he swept her off her feet, relishing the warmth and safety of his arms. “I thought I saw someone on the property on the way to the shed. Knew for sure that someone had been there when I found the shed open. I only knew how many and when after the team arrived.” He set her down on the bed after throwing the covers back. “I need to know. Is Aung dead?” She busied herself plumping the pillows, not realizing the routine now included sniffing the case first until Dominix framed her jaw and said, “If it hadn’t been for you smelling my pillow last night, I’d never have had the guts to tell you how I feel. Don’t ever stop.”

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A glacier couldn’t have done a better job of grinding her last shred of hope to dust. Jess knew he’d never have tried to distract her so desperately otherwise. “She is, isn’t she?” “I’m sorry, babe. It’s been too long.” He kissed her forehead. “There is still a chance. A minute one. You shouldn’t get your hopes up.” “What about this Steve, her boyfriend?” “Two options. Dead or he’s involved in Aung’s disappearance.” “It seems so surreal. Other people have friends who disappear. Not me.” She fiddled with the comforter. “Other people have someone they know murdered, not me. Because we are talking about murder now, aren’t we?” “Probably.” He slipped under the covers, hauled her close, and pressed her head to his shoulder. “Let’s continue this tomorrow, okay? I want to know more about you. Talk to me.” “You’ll have to tell me what’s not included in your file on me.” She rubbed a patch of dampness from his chest hair. “Are you still pissed about that?” “No. I simply don’t want to bore you.” Jess liked that he always touched her, petted her, like the way he stroked her arm right now. “There’s nothing about you that could possibly bore me. Do you remember your parents?” Jess froze and then forced her lungs back to work. Devil couldn’t know he’d just figuratively stabbed her in the heart. “Vaguely. I have pictures, of course, but only a few memories. I remember vacationing on a beach. My father teaching me to swim. My mother and I playing the piano.” “Do you remember the accident?” She took a deep breath. If they were going to have a relationship, he needed to know at least the basics. “No. I remember the hospital. The physical therapy. But


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only in quick shots. I didn’t know they’d died until much later. When they were getting ready to discharge me.” “You were in the hospital for three months.” He slipped down the pillow and shifted so their noses almost bumped. “You didn’t know your parents had died for three months?” “I overheard two nurses speculating whether Frances and Louise were going to tell me when they took me to their home.” All the old bitterness flooded through her. “My great-aunts visited once a week, on Sundays. They told me my parents had gone on a trip. If I asked about them, Frances would produce a postcard with a scrawl on the back, and then lecture me on not being a bother to them.” “Your great-aunts never fucking told you?” She loved him more for being so outraged. He looked like he was about to spew fire. “It’s okay. A long time later, I decided that I was glad that neither Frances nor Louise had ever spoken their names. In my head, hearing my parents’ names from their lips would’ve been like sullying something precious.” His lips flattened. “It was hell, wasn’t it? Living with them?” “It was worse than hell. At least in hell, Satan’s obvious. He’s evil, and everyone acknowledges that. Frances and Louise were the perfect guardians to the rest of the world. Holier-than-thou. Certainly to the board that oversaw my trust fund and me, they were exemplary. I would’ve loved to have seen their faces when they discovered the coffers were empty after Frances died.” “She robbed your trust fund?” “Bled it almost dry. They set up a charity foundation in their names.” Jess rolled a shoulder. “At least the money’s doing good. Could’ve been worse. Don’t look like that.” She toyed with the stubble on his jaw. “I like the fact that I’ve earned my own money, that I’m financially independent because of my hard work.”

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“You’ve never talked about it, have you?” His toothpaste-minty breath tickled her lips. “You got that one wrong. After they died and I turned twenty-one, the first thing I did was find a good shrink. I went to her twice a week for four years. But I’ve never told anyone else about it. Not even Destiny. She knows I hated that period of my life, but nothing else.” He kissed her eyes shut, the tip of her nose, and brushed their lips together. “Know that I’m here. When you’re ready to talk, I’m here.” She touched his hands, lingered on a knuckle wrinkle, and met his gaze. “Thank you. For that. But also for not pressing me now.” “Anytime, babe. Anytime.” He kissed her once more and then settled back onto the pillow and tangled his fingers in her hair. “Let’s talk about why you associate my nickname with deviant behavior.” She cuffed him and rose on her elbow. “You can’t be serious.” “Dead serious.” “Devil, you do threesomes. You frequent a BDSM club. If that isn’t deviant sexual behavior, I don’t know what is.” She rolled her eyes and swatted him again. “Honestly.” He slid down the sheets until they were a mere inch and a half apart. “Can you tell me, honestly, that you’ve never fantasized about what it would be like to be in bed with two men at the same time? One eating your pussy, the other nibbling on your breasts?” Her whole body flamed. And she couldn’t deny her wet pussy or her throbbing clit and aching nipples. Braining him became very tempting. “I used to be an editor. Of romance novels. I’ve not only thought about it, I’ve read a million versions of ménages. That doesn’t mean I want to experience one.” Jess expected him to argue with her, to try to persuade her to his viewpoint. “It’s good that you aren’t interested. ’Cause it’s never gonna happen.”


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She frowned. “Why are we having this discussion, then? If you aren’t trying to talk me into one?” He snorted. “There is no fucking way I will share you with any other man. We’re having this discussion because of the way you responded to my spanking you and the rough sex.” He tipped her chin. “Look at me. We both know you liked it. Can I tell you my theory of why?” He oozed testosterone, and all those macho pheromones addled every single speck of gray matter in her head. “Do I have a choice?” “No. I’ve watched you in meetings. You arrange your equipment parallel to each other, exactly. You have a PowerPoint for every argument. You never have a hair out of place. Destiny says that even if you’re eating alone, you lay the table as if you’re at a formal restaurant.” “You didn’t just show up by coincidence at my meeting with Satan and Lucifer, did you? You pried it out of Destiny. You’ve been worming information from her. That’s the only way you could’ve known about me laying the table.” Her eyes narrowed, and she would’ve folded her hands if he hadn’t twined their fingers together. “So? I like order. That doesn’t mean I’m into bondage and beatings.” That arrogant one-lifted-brow look always made her teeth gnash. “I like sex. I like it rough. I like it gentle. I enjoy role-playing. And I like to take it to the edge. Other than tonight—have you ever role-played?” She knew he wasn’t going to leave well enough alone. “You know I haven’t. Where’s this going?” “At Bacchanal I experimented. I know what I like sexually. I’m a dominant man. Don’t start breathing fire right away. Let me explain. I’m in charge in the bedroom. That means that I take care of you. I give you what you need. And what you need is to be pushed into trying things you’re curious about. How am I doing?” Jess digested his words and thought back on Frances and Louise and her years under their collective thumbs. She swallowed. “My therapist told me that if I didn’t loosen up, I was headed for OCD. I know I have a powerful urge to be in control. But

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I’m not a submissive person, Dominix. There’s no way on this earth that I’d jump just because you said so.” “And I wouldn’t expect you to. You’re an intelligent woman. You are in charge of your own career. I’d never offer advice there unless asked. But I will be in charge in the bedroom. There’s no negotiation there. Stop studying my chin, fascinating though it may be. Look at me, Jess. The bottom line is this—do you ever think I’d hurt you? In any way?” I think you’ll break my heart when you leave, which is inevitable. “No. Not deliberately.” She met his stare without flinching. “I have a feeling I’m not going to like where this is going.” “Probably not at first. I love you. You believe that?” “I believe you believe that right now.” She hated having to look him in the eyes and say that. He shook her shoulders. “I love you. Period. One thing I am not is fickle. I’ve never said those words to a woman. Never. I don’t take them lightly. So I ask again, do you believe that I love you, Jessica Mary Blaine?” Her heart rate spiked, and she had that something’s-going-to-crash tingling in her extremities. She swallowed. “Yes.” “And you love me.” “Yes.” “One thing in our favor. Did you like the sex?” “You know I did.” She searched his features, trying to find a clue as to his emotions. But the only glimmer came from the fire in his gaze, the muscles working as his jaw clenched. “Okay, let’s go back to the beginning. You’ve fantasized about threesomes, but you’re not into making that a reality. A definite plus ’cause it ain’t happening. Not with my woman. Don’t wrinkle your nose at me. You are my woman. Get used to that. Stop distracting me.”


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“How am I distracting you?” “You’re playing footsie with me.” Chagrined, Jess glanced down to where her toes were investigating the firmness of his calf. Shrugged. “Sorry. I didn’t realize.” “I know, and I love that you touch me unconsciously. But we need to finish this. You loved it when I ordered you into position today. You creamed like there’s no tomorrow when I spanked you. You enjoyed the roughness. You definitely liked the cheerleader role-play. Agree with me on all of this?” “Yes.” She adjusted the medal he wore, more out of the desire to touch him than the need to place the gold pendant in the center of his chest. “Would you call any of what we did deviant sex?” She shook her head. “Devious. That’s what you are: devious. All right, what we did was not deviant, but it’s not exactly normal either.” “No? Do you consider Destiny normal? Sinner?” “You’ve got this all thought out, don’t you? Okay. I give you Destiny and Sinner as normal human beings.” “Which makes us?” Jess cuffed him then. “Normal human beings.” The grin he shot her had her remembering his mouth shiny from her moisture. “Who like variety with their sex. A dash of kink to ratchet the passion.” “What happens if I don’t like something? But you want to try it?” Jess avoided his eyes, and the one-second wait for his response turned into eternity. “Why do I get the feeling you have a specific something in mind? Spill it, Jess. Tell me what worries you.” Heck, she might as well get it over and done with. “Anal.” “We don’t go there.”

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“Just like that? But you like it, so what happens when you feel the need?” “Ah, Jess. You and I have so many misconceptions about each other. I don’t do anal. Never have. After my mother and father died and before my grandfather found me, I lived on the streets in a Greek fishing village for a few weeks. I came this close to gang rape.” He pinched a milliliter of air. “How awful. How old were you?” She snuggled closer and tried to picture him as a little boy. “Eight. And I survived. Intact.” He threaded his fingers through her hair. “I guess I should be grateful for Frances and Louise. I never lacked for material comfort. Always had a roof over my head.” He feathered kisses over one brow, then the other. “Trade with me. Tell me what a day with them was like, and I’ll tell you about my grandfather.” She heaved a huge sigh. “A day with the ogres, that’s what I used to call them. At five fifteen, Frances woke me. She timed me while I brushed my teeth.” “She was there when you brushed your teeth?” Devil had slid down the pillow to face her again. Jess shook her head. “That was the easy part. A shower lasted no longer than five and a half minutes. Two minutes to wet your skin and hair. One minute to lather up, and then one and a half minutes to rinse off.” “They fucking timed your shower?” His outraged snarl made her go warm all over. “They watched and timed my shower. Every shower. They decided what I wore. Every day. We had a routine that was typed and pinned to the fridge at precisely two fifteen on Sunday afternoon.” Jess remembered tearing the routine from the fridge the day Louise took to her bed. And smiled, she had felt so empowered. “You can smile about that?”


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Her smile widened at his obvious indignation. She traced the creases between his brows. “I won. They’re dead, and I can do anything I want.” “Tell me this fricking routine.” “We went to Mass after I dressed. Breakfast at seven fifteen, tooth brushing again, but with flossing. Homeschooling from eight fifteen to eleven forty-five. Lunch from noon to twelve thirty, a nap from one to two, then homeschooling from two fifteen to four forty-five.” Jess ticked off everything as she talked. “Supper at six fifteen, piano lessons after on Tuesdays and Thursdays, practice on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Bed at eight—” “Let me guess. Eight forty-five. You lived in a fucking madhouse. Did you ever play? Run around outside? Get dirty?” He scooted against the headboard and hauled her onto his lap. “We had outings. The library, the Museum of Natural Art, the zoo, tea at the Plaza for Easter.” She shrugged. “It wasn’t that bad.” “What about other kids?” “There weren’t any. Not that I remember, anyway.” Jess scrubbed the ferocious frown he wore. “I was safe. Healthy. I discovered books. They kept me sane. I could escape to so many worlds.” “It’s a fucking miracle you turned out so perfect.” He tucked a lock behind her ear. “No wonder you have a ‘thing’ about body fluids and odors. Were you ever alone?” “When I slept. I still love sleeping. In your dreams, you can do anything, be anyone you want to.” She kissed his cheek. “You must have hated them. I do.” “For a long time, I did hate them. Actively. I was eighteen when Frances died. Louise took to her bed the day after the funeral and died eight months later. I was free. I went to college, took enough psychology courses to realize that I needed therapy. Four years of therapy taught me two things. One, you can’t change the

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past. Two, you can change the present and the future. I had to let go of my anger or be ruled by it. Not a difficult decision.” “You are amazing. I would’ve needed revenge. And if they were alive, I’d make sure they paid for what they did to you.” She repressed a grin, loving the narrow-eyed glower he aimed at the long-gone Frances and Louise, because he did it for her. “I figure my best revenge is living well.” “And wouldn’t those old biddies turn over in their grave if they had an inkling of how much you love to fuck and be fucked?” He leered at her, his perfect brows doing a series of waggles. “I bet those two couldn’t even contemplate a screaming orgasm.” A fit of the giggles hit her as she tried to picture Frances and Louise walking in on them in the bathroom. When she had calmed enough to speak, Jess said, between snorted chuckles, “I’m sure they had no notion of anything other than the missionary position, fully clothed of course. Lordy, the thought of them seeing you— oh, it’s too much.” He joined in her laughter, but even when the tears streamed down her face and she couldn’t breathe, Jess knew he was still angry for her. And that pleased her even more. It felt amazing to have someone protecting her, looking out for her, loving her. Even if she’d had a crazy, uptight upbringing. And right then and there, an epiphany hit her. They were both deviants. Her and Devil. And she liked the proposition.


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Chapter Nine After Jess fell asleep, Devil slipped out of bed. Though he knew Demon and Satan had his back, there was no way he could sleep while danger threatened Jess. He touched base with Satan first. Not a movement within three miles of his house. Loath to leave Jess for long, he radioed Demon, who was still patrolling the grounds and had nothing of significance to report. Still not satisfied, he triple checked all the exits, brewed a cup of coffee, and then settled in the library in front of his desktop PC. He set his phone to alarm every hour before delving into Aung’s history and tracing her Internet footsteps over the last three months. He worked steadily, pausing every hour for a ten-minute patrol of the house. By the time Devil returned to his bedroom, the storm had abated, and dawn rimmed the horizon, faint peachy rays coloring scattered gray clouds. He resuscitated the smoldering logs in the master bedroom fireplace, and when the tiny blue flames licking at the charred wood burned steadily, he crept under the covers, repressing a deep sigh, not wanting to wake her—yet. Dominix studied Jess and blew a lock from her cheek. She made a cute little sound, half a murmur, half a squeak, and nuzzled his shoulder. In her sleep, she had no problems trusting him. Eventually that had to overflow into her waking moments. They’d made good progress last night. He understood her better now. Those fucking great-aunts should’ve been tossed into the streets on their bony asses. Prissy prudes. Fucking watching her shower. Ten to one she’d never masturbated.

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He lifted the sheets and sighed. If there was a contest for the prettiest pussy in the world, Jess had that crown nailed. And if it was the last thing he ever did, Dominix intended to watch Jess finger herself to a screaming climax. His dick jerked its agreement. Jess rolled onto her side. Devil smiled. He had wake-up plans. Wake-up plans that included a mask and a feather. Working quickly, he eased Jess onto her back and slipped the mask loosely over her eyes. The fire crackled and snapped and burst into a blaze. The room smelled of pine and oozed warm fuzziness. Carefully he worked the sheets to one side. Then he sat back and waited. She pursed her mouth and grunted. Jess slept like the proverbial log. She hadn’t exaggerated her love of sleeping. She didn’t stir—not even when he tickled her sole with a peacock feather. He teased the feather over her calf. She frowned, and her leg twitched. Devil’s grin widened, and he rimmed her navel with the feather. Her breathing hitched, she shifted, the bed linens sighed, and her lashes fluttered. Time to up the intensity. He outlined her breasts, and his morning woody did a snatch and jerk when her nipples unfurled like the prettiest flowers on the planet. Her torso tensed, and she curled her toes. “Mornin’.” He kissed her shoulder. “Dominix?” She touched the mask, cocked her head, and rose on one elbow. “A very loose blindfold. You can take it off at any time.” “But you want me to keep it on.” The slight smile curving her lips had his pecker weeping. “At any point, you can stop me. All you have to do is say peach.” “Peach? Peach is my safe word.” She twisted her mouth and frowned.


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“Too wussy for you? Choose another if you want.” “Peach it is.” She lay back on the pillow. “Tell me everything that comes into that beautiful head of yours.” He nudged her legs apart and settled on his haunches between her knees. “I’m wondering why I’m not tied up.” “Aren’t you?” When the feather delved between her toes, she flexed her foot and giggled. “Is that a feather?” She gasped when he grazed her arch. “Talk to me.” Devil checked her body position. The lazy sprawl of her legs and arms edged closer to her torso. “Intriguing. The toes tickled. The arch…not ticklish, yet too soft.” He flipped the feather and used the quill in the same spot. She moaned. By the time he reached the backs of Jess’s knees, her musk filled the room and his dick leaked a steady precum stream. She held nothing back and her passionate reactions had him both mesmerized and harder and tighter than forged steel. “You haven’t even touched me yet, and I’m ready to come.” Her hands fisted. “You haven’t told me not to move, yet I’m fighting not to. You’ve no idea how much I want your mouth now.” A bead of sweat dripped from his brow onto her thigh. He watched in fascination as the drop plumped and flattened and rolled over her quivering skin. Unable to focus on anything but the trembling of her quadriceps, Devil gritted his teeth and forced his gaze to her face. She’d bitten her lips so often they were reddened and plump and juicy wet. One shade lighter than the glistening labia haloed by her damp curls. “Devil, I need to touch you.” Her fingers curled and splayed.

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His testicles primed and pumped. His pulsing balls stretched the skin covering them so tightly he wanted to howl his frustration. But he had a goal. Clenching his jaw, he bent to the task and skimmed the feather the length of one pussy fold. “Devil.” She drew out his name in a long, whimpered moan. “Please.” He hadn’t spoken a word for over forty minutes, wanted her to find her own way, figure out what she needed. And take it. The feather skimmed the hood guarding her clit. She lifted off the bed and dug her heels into the mattress. “Devil. Devil. I can’t hold back much longer.” Neither could he. His rasped pants came hard and fast. His dick jerked and dripped with her every flinch, the scrape of her nails when she fisted the sheets, the flaring of her nostrils. He captured her wrist, opened her hand, and laid the feather in her palm. After curving her fingers around the quill, he let go. Her frantic hip wriggles halted. The flush rolled over her body one part at a time; first her forehead and cheeks pinkened, and then the wave crashed from throat to toes. She chewed on her mouth, and her knuckles went white as she crushed the feather. “You want me to…to pleasure myself.” Fuck. Heat razed his skin, perspiration popped across his forehead, and desire fried his vocal cords. She changed her hold on the feather. “I want to do it for you. Help me. Hold me open.” His fingers shook like twigs in a hurricane. He scooted closer and straddled her pelvis with bent legs. Both of them shuddered when his cock slapped her inner thigh. He thumbed her folds apart, his gaze glued to the dampness clinging like a lover to the swollen folds. His mouth watered. His deprived lungs burned. His cock wept.


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“Is this what you want?” She swept the feather crosswise. Devil watched the blue-green vane coast over her center and choked back a howl when Jess’s breathing stuttered audibly. His stones jammed against his pubes when she asked, her voice a husky growl, “Or is it this?” She flipped the feather, lifted the hood, and scraped the quill lightly over her clit. Fuck. He stared at her contracting pussy, bit his tongue, fisted the head of his cock, and squeezed until pain shot through him. He bent lower, his forehead inches above her sex. The intoxicating scent of her excitement made him giddy. The sight of her inner walls contracting snapped the tightrope of restraint on which he teetered. Devil grabbed her hand, separated a finger, and set it on the rim of Jess’s center. And groaned when she realized what he wanted. He was glued to the sight of her dainty finger disappearing into her center. “With you. Please. With me.” Sliding his finger under hers, he thrust into her. Her scream filled the room and echoed in his head. He spewed like a fire hydrant, spurting semen left and right. He worked his pelvis and pumped, his cock jerking and spasming while his fingers and hers plunged in and out of her convulsing vagina. He drew her climax out by grinding his thumb on her clit. His vision blurred. He laid his cheek on her belly, kissed her navel, slowing his breathing in the hope that brain function would return when his lungs ceased scalding his chest. He felt her stomach shudder and glanced up to find Jess, hand pressed over her mouth, shaking with repressed laughter. She’d taken the blindfold off, and her eyes were focused on the feather. Rolling so he straddled her waist with his forearms, he lifted a brow. “Something amuses my woman?”

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“Where?” She burst into a giggle fit. Took a stammering inhale. “Did you get the feather?” “What does where I got the feather have to do with you having a laughing fit?” Shut up, idiot. She’s laughing and not traumatized in the least. “Where?” She swiped at the wetness on her face. “From one of the books you were reading.” “Lordy.” Chortles pealed from her mouth, and tears ran like a river down her cheeks. “OMG.” She heaved him off her and bent over, holding her stomach. Loving her like this, impish, carefree, he drank in the whole picture. His sexy cheerleader. He didn’t know what had set her off, but he intended to make it happen again and again and again. Gradually her chuckles turned into the odd hiccup, and she straightened. “Frances always wore a blue hat with a peacock feather. I hated that hat and that feather. One day I couldn’t take it anymore, and I stole it and cut it into pieces. The next day she replaced it. I drove her mad. Every time she replaced it, I stole that blasted feather. When she died, I decided to keep the feather as a constant reminder of my hard-won freedom. Wouldn’t she just die to know where that feather just went and what it did?” Devil howled then, and the two of them didn’t stop laughing until Jess decided she needed a shower. She refused to let him join her and pushed him out of the bathroom. “I have feminine things to attend to.” He stood there wearing nothing but a hopeful boner. His jaw dropped in disbelief when she not only shut the door but also turned the lock. “What woman stuff do you need to do that I don’t know about?” He eyed a knot in the wooden door. A jolt of panic hit him. “Babe, you’re not thinking of shaving your pubes, are you? Because that’s my job.”


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No answer. The moisture clinging to his skin evaporated. “I like them. They make your pussy look pinker.” And he hadn’t had enough time to thoroughly examine them, play with those golden curls, and lick them wet. “Jessica.” He knocked on the door. “Number one. It’s my body. They’re my pubic hairs. And if I want to shave them off, I can and will. Number two. Don’t we have a meeting with the team in an hour? For heaven’s sake, go and get ready.” She wouldn’t. Crap, she would to prove a point. But then again, her bare pussy could be even prettier. Whistling, he ambled down the hallway, visualizing every shade of pink she’d turned in the last few days, and painting her labia with first one hue, then another. He turned the shower dial to its coldest setting in the hopes of taming his dick. When would she let him shower with her? A bath was nice, but a shower, that wooden stool that he had in the stall. His stubborn pecker clung to the image of him taking her from behind, her foot balanced on the stool, naked folds dripping suds. He emerged from the shower with a full-blown, want-it-now erection. Hoping for a quickie after they finished eating—or maybe during, or before— he whipped up a batch of pancakes. Remembered Demon above the garage, checked his phone, and found a text message. Trip wires disarmed—all clear. That meant Demon would appear hungry as a bear after waking from hibernation at any minute. He mixed another bowl of batter and started on a second round of pancakes after dumping a dozen sausages into a frying pan. “Yo!” The door banged open, and a blast of icy air tornadoed through the kitchen. “Great morning, huh?”

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“Fan-fucking-tastic.” Devil shot him a grin. “It’s an amazing morning.” Demon hauled himself onto a stool. “Where’s Jess?” “Getting dressed. Why?” “I like her. Do not fuck with her, Dominix. She’s the kind of woman you marry.” He was so right. Devil laid down his spatula. “That’s not in question. What’s in question is, am I the kind of man she marries?” Demon’s mouth went slack. “Hot damn. You’re serious. I never thought I’d ever see this day. You’re fricking scared.” Petrified. But he wasn’t about to let anyone else know that. Jess strolled into the room. “Good morning, Demon Seed.” She looked amazing. He’d never seen her in jeans before. And that white shirt brought out the last remnants of her summer tan. He’d never seen her on a beach. “I wish you wouldn’t call me that.” Demon shot her a glance that would’ve melted any puppy lover. Not his Jess. No, she raised a brow, and did that lady-of-the-manor look down her nose. “Until I know your given name, that’s what I’m calling you, Demon Seed. Get used to it.” Jess didn’t have tan lines. Did she tan in the nude? “There’s a beach on the north side of the property.” Both of them turned to stare at him, and only then did he realize what he’d said. “A beach? Did I miss something?” Her mouth pursed. No, he had. His fucking mind. After picturing her naked on a towel on his beach. Get a grip. “Dominix?” She waved her hand. “Are you okay?”


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“He doesn’t deserve your concern. No morning persona. Nada. Zilch. Never thinks with anything but his pecker before noon.” Demon hopped off the stool. “Thanks for the show of support.” Devil flipped a pancake. “Make yourself useful. Get the plates. And pour Jess a cup of coffee. Two scoops of cream.” She arched a brow and grinned. “You were paying attention.” “You bet. I know how you like lemon in your water and very little ice. Rumor has it that you also crave vanilla pancakes.” “And how did you come by that tidbit?” Damn, he loved her when she went all sex kitten on him—lifting a shoulder and throwing him that saucy peek. “You two are really trying to ruin my appetite. Stop mooning at each other. I’m assuming we’re eating at the table again?” Demon opened a cabinet. “Of course. Like real human beings. Are we that obvious?” She frowned and worried her lower lip. “Don’t use those. Those are dinner plates. The smaller ones, those are breakfast plates.” “Huh?” Demon glanced at the plate to which she pointed. “That itty bitty thing? It’ll only hold one pancake and one sausage.” “You can have second helpings.” Jess walked over to Demon and hipped him aside. “Where are the serving dishes?” Devil and Demon glanced at each other. Her eyes crossed, and she shook her head. “You two are totally uncivilized. Out of my way. Demon Seed, why don’t you start a fire? It’ll make the room nice and cozy. I’ll look after the table. Now, tell me more about this perimeter ring thing. How does it work?” Over breakfast she directed the conversation, and Devil had a vague but uneasy notion that a relationship power shift had occurred. In her favor. In a charming but determined manner, she worked her way closer and closer to learning Demon’s given name. When he cottoned on to her intention, Demon clammed up

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and shot her a glare. But that didn’t deter Jess in the slightest. She simply used another tack. From the wary, dazed expression on Demon’s face when they arrived at Sinner and Destiny’s home an hour later, Jess had bamboozled both of them into giving her way too much ammunition in her quest for his given name. Devil deliberately let Jess get ahead of him as they walked up the driveway. “Why don’t you tell her?” Devil lowered his voice. “My real name? No way. She’s good. But I’m better.” Demon shot him a grin. “Have you told her?” Devil sighed. He’d known his best friend would push him into making a full revelation of his past to Jess sooner rather than his preference—way later, like after he had a ring on her finger. “A bit.” The weather had changed since dawn. A thick, charcoal-dusted blanket shrouded the entire sky, and only a smattering of the sun’s rays penetrated the darkening clouds. The air held a stale moistness that portended a fierce storm. “You have to tell her before she’s in any deeper.” Devil glanced up as they reached the steps and spied Sinner lounging in the open doorway. “Later. This is not for general consumption.” He bristled when Jess hugged Sinner and kissed him on the cheek. He’d never get used to having other men touch her. “About time you three showed up.” Sinner waved them into the house. The terse greeting pinged Devil’s alarm bells. “The others are here already?” “Yeah. Jess, Destiny’s waiting for you in the kitchen. Do me a favor and keep my wife off her feet.” The somber expression on Sinner’s face didn’t assuage Devil’s uneasiness. “I’ll do my best, but you know your wife. She’s as stubborn as a mule.” Jess shot him a look and then frowned. She glanced at Sinner. “Something wrong?” “Destiny’s doing too much.”


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Jess rolled her eyes. “Men. Pregnant women are encouraged to be normal.” “You sound just like her.” Sinner folded his arms. “Later.” Jess flipped them a wave. The second she disappeared around the corner, Sinner said, “Destiny’s on the warpath, and you’re her target.” Crap.“What the fuck did I do?” “You exist and you’re screwing Jess.” “Nothing I can do about either fact.” “You are so dead meat.” Sinner shook his head. “You have no fricking clue. She’s convinced you’re not the marrying kind. And she’s decided to persuade Jess to end it now before she gets in too deep.” “That’s all I need.” Devil followed Sinner down the hallway. “You need to get Destiny on your side.” Demon held open the study door. “It’s that BFF thing. It’ll get you in the nuts every time.” “When did you become fricking Dr. Phil? Ever since you took that yoga course, your brains went south. And how do you propose I go about getting Destiny on my side? She’s not exactly my biggest fan.” Devil footed the door closed. “You’d better give him the rest of the news.” Satan decanted a shot of brandy into a snifter. “Then we need to get down to business.” Devil’s senses zinged big-time, and a dozen or more spiders wove webs over his nape and scalp. “News?” “Tom Gordon and Jess rented a private room at Bacchanal seven months ago. It seems he’s a shibari master.” “Son of a fucking bitch.” Devil’s gut cramped, and he stumbled to a chair and fell into the leather. Tried to erase the photo-op images of Tom Gordon and Jess and erotic Japanese bondage the nanosecond they imprinted on his brain. Jess. Gordon. Ropes.

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Naked. Gordon’s hands on her skin. “She lied.” “After the way you reacted about her being with him at Bacchanal, you think she’d come clean about—Hang on.” Demon slumped onto the recliner opposite Lucifer. “Did you say seven months ago?” Devil hissed. “Seven months ago. Exact date is March 18.” Lucifer, seated on the couch, flipped a USB drive to Devil. “I compiled a file on Gordon for you.” Devil caught the drive. At least Lucifer had his back. “You don’t look like you’re jumping for joy.” Devil glared at the memory stick. “I’m assuming you didn’t find anything I could use to nail his ass?” “No. They call him the last Renaissance man. Black belt, Olympic gold winner—archery.” “Archery? What a wussy sport.” Right then he’d take up any weapon against the a-hole. “He has a Mensa IQ. Rumor has it he’ll be an Oscar contender for his first screenplay next year.” Lucifer sent Devil an apologetic grimace. “Any possibility he’s impotent?” “No. Why?” Lucifer frowned at Demon. “It might have stopped Devil from snipping Gordon’s stones.” Demon shrugged. “Instead of permanently eunuching the bastard, why don’t you consider killing two birds with one stone?” Nothing would stop Devil from beating Tom Gordon senseless. Nothing but the niggling conviction Jess would break off their relationship in a heartbeat if he so much as laid a finger on the fucking Renaissance a-hole. “Pour me a shot.”


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“I anticipated that.” Satan handed Devil a brandy snifter before settling next to Lucifer. “This one I want to hear. Get rid of Gordon and get Destiny on Devil’s side in one shot—how?” “Ye of little faith. I’m not the strategy expert on the team for nothing. It’s simple. Ask Destiny for Jess’s ring size.” Devil stared at Demon. “Her ring size?” “Sometimes you scare me, Demon.” Satan shook his head. “But it’s a brilliant scheme. Destiny’s against Jess and Devil together because she thinks he’s not the marrying type. If he asks for her ring size, Destiny assumes he’s serious. It’s a brilliant tactic. But know this, Dominix: you break Jess’s heart and you’ll have to deal with me.” “And me,” Lucifer added. “She’s family.” Sinner didn’t have to say anything else. Devil didn’t have any other strategy to fall back on, and having Destiny on his side would be a huge advantage. “She’s obviously reluctant to come clean with you because you’re a fricking jealous maniac. Lose the jealousy.” Devil shook his head and stared at Demon. “That’s easy for you to say. You don’t have a woman.” But Demon was right, he had to lose the jealousy and trust Jess. It took five minutes of deep breathing to bank the jealous rage boiling the blood in his veins, and it was only when he heard Lucifer mention Aung’s name that Devil sobered. “What was that?” “Aung went up for auction at Bacchanal the weekend before she disappeared.” “Who won the bid? And what was the win?” “Don’t know yet. I persuaded Tribal to give me a copy of the DVD from that night. It’s on my PC. It’s better if you and Demon go through it. You two know the players. I don’t.” Lucifer waved at the laptop on the coffee table.

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“Keep the original. Give them a copy.” Satan’s impatience showed in the way he drummed his fingers. Lucifer nodded. “Done. Next?” “Charles Smith. Aside from his nocturnal activities at Bacchanal, the man’s clean. Turns out he moved one of the tenants in Jess’s building that week. I’m still trying to get details on the tenant.” Demon cracked his neck from side to side. “You really buy that? I don’t. Not for a fricking second. There’s no way in hell that this guy is a Bacchanal platinum member who happens to ask Jess out and then he turns up at her building the night her condo’s robbed. No way.” Devil folded his arms. “I’m with Devil on that one,” Satan concurred. “I’ll keep digging, but I’m telling you—the man’s clean.” Demon leaned back on the couch and stretched his legs, propping one boot on the coffee table. “Which brings us to the last players in this farce. The visa officer, Han Thein, and Steve, Aung’s boyfriend. Steve hasn’t shown up for work or classes since the night the mysterious stranger won Aung at auction.” Lucifer flipped the switch on the recliner, and the chair’s footrest rose. “Was that a Thursday or a Friday auction?” Devil frowned and then took a sip of the liquor. As the burn hit his stomach, strains of a memory niggled at the corners of his mind but refused to coagulate. Lucifer checked his laptop. “Thursday.” “That would mean that Aung stood Jess up deliberately. From what Jess has told me, that isn’t par for the course.” “Anything to indicate that the two events are connected? The auction and Steve’s disappearance?” Satan asked. “Maybe. Han denied Steve’s visa application the week of the auction, and there was some sort of altercation at the visa office.” Lucifer linked his hands behind his head.


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“Do we know if Aung and Steve went to the visa office together? Was Han, the mysterious stranger, sticking it to Steve by bidding on Aung? Do we have a love triangle going on here?” Devil threw out the questions as they popped into his head. “Could be. According to Tribal, Steve and Aung weren’t always together at Bacchanal. Steve mostly took in scenes. They both showed up often for auction nights, but until that one night, never participated,” Demon replied. “What about Han? Was he ever with Aung?” Lucifer steepled his fingers under his chin. “Han is a serious sadist. Because he’s a platinum member of Bacchanal, Tribal can’t give me too many details on his activities. It occurred to me that Steve and Aung might have been trying to get enough on Han to blackmail him into giving Steve a visa. What do you all think?” Demon asked. Satan replied for all. “It’s a stretch, but a possibility. We need more data. Did you check money and banking connections?” Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Duh. Aung waited tables at a diner. Steve worked at a welding shop. I’m still tracing Smith’s accounts. As far as Han goes—nada. His US accounts show very few transactions and his credit cards are paid by the embassy. It’ll take some time to get information on him because of his diplomatic immunity.” “Where do we go from here?” Sinner stretched his arms above his head. “Demon, you go through the auction DVD. Any way we can get more out of either Tribal or Ram? They know the auction winners. Let’s ID who won Aung and the guy who bid for Jess.” Satan swirled the brandy in his glass. “Done.” “Lucifer, hone in on the money and see if you can crack into Han’s private PC, and the embassy’s records. Cross reference everything.” Satan drained the last of the amber liquid. “On it.”

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“Sinner, you’re on Smith. I’m on Gordon.” Satan rested the snifter on the coffee table and stood. “I want Gordon,” Devil growled and shot Satan a furious glower. “Not happening. We don’t need a lawsuit, Devil. There’s one more nickel in play here. Lucifer, Sinner, and I looked at the tape of the intruders on your property last night. Whoever they are, they’re pros. No doubt about it. Time for you and Jess to disappear. I’m thinking Shifty’s place in Alaska.” “She won’t go for that, Satan. Not a chance. It’s her clients. She won’t leave them.” “What about a sailing trip? Borrow my boat. Take a tour up the coast. Or down. Jess can stay in touch with her clients. The boat’s totally wired and connected. And if she needs to meet a client, you can always moor at a pier.” Lucifer popped the DVD out of his laptop. “Not a bad idea. What do you think, Devil? Will Jess go for that?” Satan rocked on his heels. Devil considered the notion. The two of them on a boat with no interruptions. The schoolgirl uniform. His delighted dick danced. “She’ll do it. Positive.”

*** What the frick did he know about women? Nothing. “No. I will not go on a boat.” “It’s not a boat. It’s a luxurious yacht. Think Monte Carlo and every modern comfort.” Devil linked his hands behind her back and tugged her closer. He’d managed to squirrel the two of them out of the kitchen, and the only private place he could find was the cabana bathroom. “I don’t like boats. I like land. Regular land. A surface that does not move.” Jess craned her neck to meet his gaze. “If you must know, I get seasick.”


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“What about trying Dramamine? Or something like that?” Devil didn’t want to abandon the fantasy he’d been building since Lucifer offered his beloved ship. “I’ve tried all of those remedies. Nothing works. I’m not trying to be difficult. And if there’s no other solution, then I’ll go. But I’ll be hugging the porcelain for the whole trip.” She wrinkled her nose. “Sorry.” He hauled her against his chest and kissed the top of her head, taking the time to breathe in her unique scent. “No boat. Satan suggested his cousin’s cabin in Alaska.” She drew back. “The one where Destiny and Sinner met? She said it’s the most romantic log cabin possible. But no, I can’t do that. I have too many responsibilities here. One of my clients may be nominated for an Oscar. The announcement could come any day. I need to be here.” Tom fucking Gordon rearing his ugly head. Again. “Tell me something. That screenplay that might earn Gordon the Oscar—does the script delve into shibari? In a big way?” All the color drained from her face. She swallowed and went stiff in his embrace. Yellow glints lit her azure irises, and her pupils narrowed. “You know?” “That seven months ago, the woman I’m in love with rented a private room in a BDSM club with another man. A man who’s an expert in the ancient Japanese art of erotic bondage. A man she’s photographed having dinner with regularly.” Her lips thinned, and she lifted her chin. “It’s not what you’re thinking. And nothing happened. Nothing’s ever happened between Tom and me. We’re friends.” Lose the jealousy. Fish or cut bait. He made the decision, the only decision that guaranteed a win.

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“I believe you. But don’t mistake my relative tranquility as an indication that I am not ready to pound Tom fucking Gordon into the ground. Because I am. You have to cut me a break, Jess. I love you, and I’m jealous. Okay?” Then a miracle happened. Jess smiled. Touched his cheek. “I love you.” He couldn’t get out a word, just gazed into her eyes like some lovesick fool. “Remember those three words as I tell you everything.” His stomach rioted.


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Chapter Ten “It was the day after Sinner’s birthday. After we’d almost—” “Made love.” Dominix stared at her with such intensity that she had to look away. “Why do I get the feeling that I’m going to fucking hate this?” Because he was. She hadn’t expected him to be so overly possessive and jealous. And the fact that that secretly pleased her made her feel foolish. But she also hadn’t expected to feel guilty. Guilt had to be the stupidest of all the emotions and the hardest to control. She’d done nothing to feel guilty about, nothing. “I am not and have never been attracted to Tom. Not in the slightest.” “Let’s cut to the chase. Did he touch you?” She didn’t like the way his temper spiked on a pulse beat. But she also didn’t want all the issues—his BDSM leanings, Tom, threesomes—hanging over them for a second longer. Jess took a deep breath and rushed out the explanation she’d been rehearsing after they first made love in the pool. “He explained the different forms of shibari and showed me how to tie different patterns. I let him bind my hands behind my back. I was fully clothed.” Jess waited for him to explode. “I hate that you’re looking at me like you’re ready to cringe. You do know that I’d never, ever hurt you, don’t you?” He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Me, I’m not worried about. Tom is another matter. He’s my client, and a very lucrative one.” She tilted her head back to meet his gaze. “I promise not to pound him into tomorrow. If you promise that from now on, I’m the only man who gets to tie you up. Clothed or not.”

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“I promise.” She remembered Tom describing the crotch rope, and pictured Devil tying the knot right there, and her pussy clenched. “What did you just think of? Whatever it is—it got you hot, didn’t it?” He cradled her face, and his eyes narrowed. “The shibari crotch rope. Aren’t you going to ask me why I let Tom tie me up?” Jess couldn’t believe how calm he appeared. “I’d much rather talk about the crotch rope.” She covered his hands. “Ask me.” “Why did you let him touch you?” “Because I wanted to be with you so badly that I had to try being bound. To see if I could handle it. I hated it. Every second of it. That’s why I cut things off with you.” She felt his biceps bunching under her palms. “You figuratively cut my dick off when you told me that you were accustomed to dating men of a certain IQ.” His brows pulled together, and his mouth flattened. “Why not try it with me? Why him?” “I was afraid of how you made me feel. I’m still a little afraid.” Jess flinched and pushed away from him, but his arms steeled around her back. “Don’t. Stay here.” “It was self-preservation. I knew you’d break my heart if we—us—got started. And I’m still not sure that you won’t.” Her heart hammered like a concrete drill pounding in her ears. She never allowed anyone to see her vulnerable. “Ah, Jess. You deserve so much more than me. But that’s too bad. Because now that I have you, I’m not letting you go. You’re mine. Got that?” Her eyes pricked at the expression on his face, at the tenderness hooding his eyes, and she nodded, too choked up to speak. “There’s a ‘but’ in your eyes. Talk to me. Tell me what I need to do to make it go away.” “It’s the whole BDSM thing. I know you’re into the life—”


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He set two fingers to her lips. “Stop. Bacchanal hired the squad to do their security. It was like being a kid in a toy store. I was bored and unattached, and I experimented. I tried a cornucopia of toys. Some stuff I liked. Some I didn’t. Do I need to tie you up to get off? By now you should know the answer to that one.” But what happens if I can’t be wild enough for you? “The feather this morning. What we did. I don’t think of that as normal sex.” “Who defines what’s normal or not? Does it matter? This morning we had the hottest sex ever. Was it normal? By Bible Belt standards, no fucking way. Do I care? Uh-uh. What I care about is giving you screaming orgasms. Finding out what makes you cream. And you did both this morning. Are you upset about the feather? Do you regret it?” Her skin temperature climbed ten, fifteen degrees. “No. No. And definitely no. This morning was incredible. And I can’t help but believe it was poetic justice. Frances’s feather and my orgasms.” “I thought we went through this last night.” He wore such a hound-dog expression—brows raised gaze hopeful—that she was tempted not to ask the question bubbling up her throat. “We did.” “But?” “You’ve had relationships before. Long ones.” Jess hadn’t wanted to listen to Destiny’s detailed listing of Devil’s sexual escapades. “I have.” He had gone into his military mode, and she couldn’t read what he was thinking. “I need to understand why the two women you lived with took their own lives.” Jess forced the words out. He shuttered his eyes. “From the tone in your voice, you have a theory.” “I’m trying not to jump to conclusions.” She hated that her voice went all croaky.

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His lids flew open, and she knew right away their discussion was headed straight for a precipice. Who would fall over? “Let me guess. I tried to force them into deviant sexual behavior that they weren’t comfortable with. They tried to please me. I drove them to suicide.” His arms were no longer around her but folded on his chest. “I can tell from your expression that I’ve hit the proverbial nail on the head.” “Don’t go all pissed on me. Try to put yourself in my place. You’ve had threesomes. A week ago, I’d have said no to that without any hesitation. I’m trying to extrapolate to six months down the road. I’m beginning to think that I’d say yes if you asked me persistently. And that’s so against what I believe and want.” Her chest ached. “You believed you didn’t want to be spanked.” The way he looked at her sent her stomach through the floor. “Turns out you were wrong. And don’t backtrack on me. You admitted it yourself.” Had she been right in the first place? She should never have allowed anything to happen between them. She stared into his eyes. She was missing something vital. It was almost as if he’d resigned himself into ending their relationship. A relationship he’d fought for with a fierceness and honesty she hadn’t returned. Not in full. Think out of the box. Go basic. “Do you expect me to go to Bacchanal with you?” His head whipped back. He frowned. “Why don’t you just walk out that door, little girl? The big, bad, deviant Devil’s not going to stop you.” And that was exactly why she would not walk out. There was something more at play here. “I repeat, do you expect me to go to Bacchanal with you?” “I’ll walk out, then. It’s over. You don’t have to worry about being driven to kill yourself.” He straightened. She got right in his face. “Don’t you fucking dare!”


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The seething rage she’d read in his eyes vanished. He swallowed and leaned back on the bathroom counter. “Once more. Do you want me to go to Bacchanal with you?” “You want to go to the club?” His voice had lost its former harshness. “Not really. But—” He silenced her with his hand. Their gazes met, and she searched his features, hoping to get a hint of his emotion. “I am into anything that pleases you. But there is no fucking way you’re stepping foot in the club ever again. Not if I’m still breathing.” “Were you faithful when you were living with each of them?” She saw the minute the tension went out of him, the second a wary puzzlement replaced that emotion. “Completely.” “I can only surmise one thing from the fact that you were prepared to let me go. You blame yourself for whatever happened with those two women.” She was so grateful Demon had caught her before Devil dragged her in here. If it hadn’t been for Demon’s intervention on Devil’s behalf, she wouldn’t have understood that Devil had decided he wasn’t good enough for her. All the color left his face. “I am to blame. I never saw it coming. Either time.” When she tried to hug him, he pushed her away and turned around. She ached for him. His bowed reflection in the mirror spoke volumes about the pain he carried. Stroking his spine with both hands, she whispered, “Remember what you told me? That when I was ready to talk, you’d be there to listen? The same goes for me, Dominix. I can’t imagine what it must be like. To find someone you love had taken their own life.”

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“I should’ve fucking seen it coming.” He looked up then, and their gazes locked in the mirror’s reflection. His stare was vacant, and she knew he was lost in the past. “No one can tell what’s in someone else’s mind. Not if they’re determined not to let you find out. I know that from firsthand experience. It took me a while, but by the end, Frances and Louise hadn’t a clue what I was thinking. I did what was expected, showed them what they wanted to see. You’re not superhuman, Dominix.” He spun around and hauled her into his embrace, squeezing her so tight she couldn’t breathe, but she didn’t care and hugged him back. “I don’t fucking deserve you. But I’m never letting you go.” Jess hadn’t realized how tense she’d been until that second. “I’m not ready to talk about it yet.” She got on her tiptoes to brush her lips over his. “I meant what I said. When you’re ready, I’m here.” “I am the luckiest son of a bitch in the world.” “It goes both ways.” She craned her neck, saw the moist film he tried to blink away, and knew she needed to lighten the moment. “You know we could go to Bacchanal to role-play.” “No fuck—fricking way.” But the creases by the corners of his mouth had deepened. “Why not?” She batted her eyelashes. “You think I could be in a room where even one man’s checking you out, and not start a fight? As it is, Demon and I are scheduled for a round tomorrow. And that’s because he saw you in the cheerleader gear.” Her mouth dropped open. “You’re serious.” “’Course.” He shrugged. “I can’t touch Sinner for two reasons. Lucifer’s out of bounds, but Satan ain’t.” “You will do no such thing. You could get hurt.” She jabbed his chest.


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He grinned. “Nah. I get them every time.” “You do this often?” Men and violence—did they always go together? “No. Of course not.” He stared at a spot to the left of her shoulder. “Liar.” “Not. It all depends upon my definition of often.” He sent her the smile that spoke of teasing and mischief and a wicked tongue dancing across her nape. “Why can I never stay annoyed with you for longer than five minutes?” He was irresistible like this, all macho and sexy. “I’m in this for the long haul. I don’t want to ever wake up without you by my side again.” “Where did that come from?” But the declaration thickened her brains and sent warm fuzzies from toes to scalp. “Does it matter?” He scooped her up against his chest, trapped her gaze with his. “And you, Jess? Are you in it for the long haul?” All of a sudden, the light at the end of the tunnel blinded her. She read his dread in the closed mask he wore, his half-shuttered eyes, the way his nostrils thinned and flared. For him everything rode on her answer to his question. He was afraid. Of her answer. “I’m in it for as long as you want me, Dominix Alexander Zubiri.” “Forever, then, Jessica Mary Blaine. I want you for forever.” She couldn’t stop the tears then; one after another dripped onto her collarbone, the drops cold, goose bump inducing. “Jess. Don’t cry.” She peered at him through the film blurring her vision. “Happy tears. I promise.” And they were, though she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why. She stared at him, drinking in his devilish handsomeness, and the muscles around her chest tightened. He winked at her. Pressed his mouth to her ear.

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“Can I interest you in a seal-the-deal quickie?” Lordy, he looked so cute with his dark stubble, that boyish, hopeful twinkle highlighting the gold glints in his onyx pupils. “We’re in the right place for cleaning up.” He waggled his eyebrows, and for some reason, the little jiggle tickled her very strange funny bone. She stifled a chortle. “You’re not buying it.” His lips curled. “No quickie, Zubiri. But I can guarantee you a little something when we get home.” She mimicked his brow waggling. “You owe me a consolation prize.” His embrace tightened, and something in Devil’s tone had her tensing. “Move in with me.” Her heart skipped a beat. “Is that a question or an order?” “What will you say yes to? An order or a question?” He tugged her closer. “Don’t make me sweat it, babe.” “You can move in with me.” She toyed with his shirt button. “I’ll move anywhere you want. Live anywhere you’d like. All I need is you.” Lordy, she loved him. And all the worries about the deviant Devil washed away. “You have a house, and I’m half moved in to your place anyway.” “We’ll set the table for every meal.” The earnest promise melted every bone in her body. “We can eat pizza in front of the TV.” If he could compromise, so could she. He kissed her forehead, brushed the tip of her nose. “Say yes.” The door handle rattled. “Are you two going to be much longer? Linc’s brothers and sisters just arrived with all their kids. I can’t have them discovering you two locked in the cabana bath.” “Destiny,” Jess whispered. “That woman has eyes in the back of her head. I didn’t think anyone saw us slip away.”


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“I suggest you exit now, Jessica. Dominix will join the party in ten minutes.” Devil set her on the floor. Jess opened the door. “Why will he join the party in ten minutes?” Hands on her hips, looking every inch the pregnant Madonna, Destiny grinned. “Because that’s how long it’s going to take for me to ream him properly. You’re needed in the kitchen pronto, Jess. And don’t even think about trying to persuade me out of this.” “Don’t leave me with her.” Devil reached for Jess’s wrist. She ducked around him and glanced over her shoulder. “I wouldn’t dream of persuading Destiny out of scolding you. Do spend a good few minutes on his vocabulary, girlfriend. We wouldn’t want him slipping up in front of the children.” The horrified expression on Devil’s face had her giggling all the way to the kitchen.

*** “Hi, Jessica. How are you?” The greeting came from one of Sinner’s five sisters, Susanna. “Want to give me a hand with this?” This referred to a ginormous tray bearing a series of cakes decorated to mimic a fleet of ships. Jess gripped one side of the platter. “Where are we going?” “The table near the windows. The guys are setting up the living room for musical chairs. It looks like it’s going to rain, so the party’s indoors.” Susanna led the way across the room. “That’ll be a challenge. Twenty kids indoors for a few hours.” Jess had met most of the Chapman family over the last year and knew the younger ones’ energy levels skyrocketed easily. “Two hours. We’re following a strict agenda. Musical Chairs. Red Light. Couple more games. The birthday candles are lit at six on the dot. In short order, ice cream and cake. Presents are opened, and then we’re all off.” Susanna ticked off the items as she mentioned them.

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“That’s ambitious.” Jess surveyed the cake. “But doable.” “Rumor has it you and Dominix are an item.” Jess bumped into a chair. She’d hoped to avoid being grilled by the entire Chapman family. “Destiny told you?” “No. My mom did.” Her jaw dropped. “Your mother?” “You should see the look on your face right now. Precious. I wish I had my phone handy.” Susanna removed five green candles from a box. She knew better than to ask but did anyway. “Destiny told your mother?” “Nah. Demon did.” The Demon Seed would pay for that. “Poor guy. He’s so scared of her. All she has to do is look at him and he blurts out everything.” Susanna placed a candle on each ship. “I can’t believe he’s afraid of anything.” But he would soon learn to fear her, Jess vowed. “He’s a total softie as far as females are concerned. I love your earrings. Where’d you get them?” “They’re my mother’s.” Jess touched the two-carat diamond studs. “I thought they looked old-fashioned.” “They’re my good-luck earrings.” And had they brought her luck today. Jess grinned. “Okay, let’s get down to work. I have the checklist. Do you know where the party hats and whistles are?” “They’re in the guest cottage along with the birthday present from the godparents. Shall I get them?” Jess glanced out the windows and grimaced. The stream of rain had thickened fourfold.


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“Thanks. Take them to the family room, will you? I’ll get everything ready for the ice cream cones. Though if I were Destiny, I’d do cups instead of cones. I’ve never attended a birthday party than didn’t involve a major cone accident.” Jess pictured twenty kids trying to lick dripping ice cream and chuckled. “I’m with you. No cones.” A cell phone dinged. “Not me. Mine’s in the other room.” The tone repeated. “It’s mine.” She’d left her purse on the kitchen counter. Jess retrieved the hobo-style bag, fumbled for the phone, glanced at the screen, and sighed. She’d been avoiding meeting with Tom Gordon for the last two days, not wanting to irritate Devil’s jealousy further. But they did need to meet face-to-face. Talking to your client about how to put a positive spin on his looming public IRS issues was a delicate matter. After their talk in the bathroom, though, maybe he would be more Dominix than Devil about Tom. Jess grinned. Funny how in bed he was always Devil, but in the bathroom he had been Dominix. What did it mean? The fact that she could switch his names out so naturally. The phone dinged again. E-mail. Jess thumbed the envelope open and couldn’t stifle an audible gasp. The stark, horrible photograph paralyzed her brain. “What’s wrong?” Susanna had the freezer open and stuck her head around the door. “Nothing,” Jess answered on autopilot. “Actually, something is wrong. I need to have the squad look at this. All right if I get hats and whistles in a bit?” “No probs. You can get the hats, bags, and nab the present right before we do the cake. They’ll all fit in the huge tray my brother bought to go with the bicycle.” “That’ll work.” She glanced at the picture again and hurried out of the room.

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What did it mean? Why was it sent to her? Jess made her way to Sinner’s study and found Satan and Demon lounging on scattered leather chairs. “What’s up?” Satan stood when she entered. “I just received this.” Jess handed him her phone. Satan whistled. “A pic of Aung. Tied and bound. Exquisite and elegant example of ebi.” “What is ebi?” “A type of shibari designed for prisoner torture and interrogation.” Demon took the phone from Satan and thumbed the screen. “I can’t be positive, but this could’ve been taken in one of Bacchanal’s private rooms. You recognize the e-mail address of the person who sent this?” She shook her head. “No. What does this mean? Is Aung still alive?” “There’s no telling when this shot was taken. Have you showed Devil this?” “He and Destiny are in the cabana bath. I believe she’s reaming him.” Jess mimed quotation marks around the second-to-last word. “I can safely say the reaming is over. What’s going on?” Devil dominated the doorway, his head two inches below the frame, shoulders brushing the wood, his attention focused solely on Jessica. Once Devil’d been brought current, he positioned himself at Jess’s side, curled an arm around her waist, and said, “I don’t want to wait to trace this address. And we need to pinpoint when this pic was taken.” “I agree. Demon, any way you can hack into Bacchanal’s private room tapes?” Her heart jumped clear to her throat. “They tape what happens in the private rooms?” Devil’s fierce stare could’ve burned the hair off her head. Jess swallowed. Maybe it hadn’t been a good idea to say she’d been fully clothed with Tom Gordon. Jess clenched her fists and waited for Demon’s answer to her question.


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“Officially, no. But we developed the security system, and the way they wanted it set up indicated they planned on recording everything. Any system can be broken. The question is how long it will take. What are you looking for? And how fast?” “ASAP. What we need to know is if this pic is new or not? New indicates Aung’s alive. And someone knows where she is. If it’s an old pic, what does the sender want from us?” Satan massaged his nape. “Demon and I can work on Bacchanal’s tapes, but we need to head back to the house to do that. Jess, you’re going to have to miss the party.” Jess rolled her eyes and glared at Devil. “Okay. Now you’re going totally overboard. I am in Sinner and Destiny’s house, a steel and wood fortress with so many alarms and security fail-safes, Fort Knox would be envious. I am surrounded by your teammates and a ton of Chapman macho males. I think I’m perfectly safe for the next three hours.” “She’s right on all counts. I’ve been nursing a hunch about this whole situation. While you two are busting into the club’s tapes, I’m going to go back to my place and take another look at those intruders from last night.” Jess’d been around Satan enough to recognize the faraway expression that meant his thoughts were percolating. “Lucifer and Sinner will be here, Dominix. There’s no need for me to miss the party.” “Let it go, man. Chill out. Jess is right.” Demon rocked on his heels, and Jess mouthed, Thank you. Devil turned to face her. “You are not to leave the house.” “Where would I go? For a walk? In that?” She pointed at the sliding glass doors. Rain had begun in earnest, the drumming on the roof a constant hum in the background, and the curtain of water hid the orchard beyond the pool area. Even squinting, Jess couldn’t make out the far corners of the pool. He blew out a long sigh. His breath fanned her cheek, and he said, his tone petulant and grudging, “Call me when they start opening the presents.”

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Jess’s insides warmed at the caring and concern she read in his eyes. She went up on tiptoes and let her lips brush his ear when she whispered, “I promise you’ll get very lucky tonight.” “I’ll hold you to that,” he whispered back. Then he bent her over his arms and kissed her until her knees buckled. “Dominix Zubiri, what do you think you’re doing?” Destiny’s voice penetrated Jess’s dazed brain. Devil righted her and steadied her by firming his hands around her waist. “Okay?” He wore his devilish grin, and Jess’s knees went weak again. “I’m in line with your rules, Destiny Chapman. No profanity. Hands above the waist and appropriate. Besides, no kids are present.” “Ouch.” Demon’s wince was drowned by a chorus of five- and four-year-olds confirming their presence. Jess’s cheeks fired. She could see around Devil and groaned when two little girls yodeled, “We saw grown-ups kissing.” “No harm. No foul. Don’t let Destiny convince you otherwise.” Devil chucked her chin and winked. “You are so pink, babe.” “Let’s make a move. It could take all night to break into Bacchanal’s system.” Demon lurched to his feet. “We need Jess’s phone.” “I don’t like the idea of her being without one.” Devil’s protest fell on deaf ears as Jess handed her phone to Demon. “Well, loan me yours, then.” “Here you go. One is Demon. Two is the office landline at the house. Three is Satan, four—Lucifer, and five is Sinner.” Three lines creased his forehead, and Devil rubbed his temple. “Don’t worry. What could possibly happen in the space of three short hours?” After the two men left, Jess remembered Tom’s text.


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Perhaps Devil’s absence for the next three hours provided the perfect opportunity. Tom lived on the island not five minutes away. He had met her often at the guest cottage when her condo was being renovated in the summer. She fired off a quick text asking Tom to meet her there at five thirty. That would give her half an hour to outline her planned media spin. And she could always use the excuse of the cake and the presents to hurry Tom on his way. Perfect. And even better, no one need know. Not even Destiny, who had never been able to keep a secret. Incredible the way the more energetic the kids became, the more exhausted did the adults. And the children’s pep didn’t flag as time wore on, but tripled, as did their octaves. By the time they corralled the kids into the family room and organized the last game before the cake lighting, Jess had a simmering headache and wanted nothing more than a hot bath, blessed quiet, and a room devoid of all human presence. “The hats.” Destiny looked about ready to collapse. “Whistles. And the party bags. The present. And the missing adults.” Jess grinned. Because Sinner had hovered like an anxious polar bear protecting his cub earlier, Destiny had banished him and Lucifer to the study. All the other males had taken that as permission to join them. “You get the men. I’ll get the hats and the other stuff.” Jess glanced at the glass doors. The steady torrent had leveled off to a mere spitting. “Take my hoodie.” Destiny had noticed the rain. “It’s waterproofed.” “Thanks. My coat smells when it gets wet.” Jess grabbed the burgundy hoodie from the coatrack. She decided to use the back door even though going that way doubled the distance. If the kids realized the rain had stopped, they would clamor to go outside. She glanced at the time on the micro: 5:15. A little early for the meeting with Tom, but the notion of a quiet cottage and a comfy chair held paradise appeal.

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“Brrr,” she muttered the second the chill wind blew the hood from her head. The temperature had dropped at least ten degrees, and the icy promise of winter held dominion. The fury of the rain had stripped the last of the brilliant foliage from the maples. Ripe pears and apples whipped off the dozen trees in the orchard littered a mud-colored carpet of sludgy leaves. She tensed and then broke into a sprint. The worn tread on her right boot planed on the wet tile. She did a Fred Flintstone whir of flailing arms and grabbed a deck chair. The aluminum frame didn’t have enough weight to save her, and she went down hard. Jess yelped as the skin on her palms ripped on a rough patch of the stone tile. Her ass zinged; the tailbone resonated with the impact. She reached to her stinging temple and winced when her finger touched a spot. Blood. She’d hit her head on the upturned chair. Or maybe it had hit her during the wild somersault that flipped its position. Aside from the scraped palm, the slight graze on her temple, and her insulted backside, she was fine. Jess got to her feet, her movements slow and tentative. Vanity got a woman every time. She’d known the boots would be dangerous on wet ground, but they made her feet look smaller and gave that extra hip sway to her walk. And she’d wanted to impress Dominix. “That’ll teach you.” The breeze intensified, but the rain had stopped. She tightened the drawstring on the hoodie and walked, her pace brisk but slow enough to prevent another spill. The eerie after-storm silence didn’t seem normal. She wriggled her shoulders in a futile attempt to unknit her bunched muscles. The dense cloud cover spread a thick, suffocating gloom, which wasn’t helped by the merging of the tree shadows and the onset of night.


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Uneasiness crawled up her spine and settled into a hair-tingling, nervous itch at the base of her scalp. She automatically patted the side pocket for the reassurance of her cell. “Damn.” Devil’s phone lay on the kitchen counter. “I’m being paranoid.” Quickening her pace, she heaved a huge sigh at the comforting sight of the guest cottage’s front door. The motion light came on. Jess turned the handle and went through the doorway. She knew the cottage well from her summer stay. She reached for the light switch on the wall, and flicked it. Nothing. “Damn.” Fervently wishing she had her cell with its flash app, Jess inched forward and wrinkled her nose as a sweet, cloying smell hit her nostrils. The hairs on the back of her neck bristled. She heard a thud and backpedaled, scrambling for the door, the wall, any firm surface. Someone was in the cottage. A hand clamped around her nose and mouth. Jess kicked backward and scratched at the hand simultaneously. She dug an elbow into a hard stomach. A wave of dizziness assaulted her coordination. Vaguely she realized the intruder held a wet cloth over her nose. Chloroform. She held her breath and renewed her kicking, stomping her stiletto heel onto the man’s sneaker-clad foot. For a fraction of a second, his hold loosened. She broke free, but before she could make a run for it, he slammed the cloth over her nose and jammed his fist into her belly. The blow knocked the wind out of her. She couldn’t get any air into her lungs. Though she fought to keep her eyes open, the weight of her lids became too heavy. Before darkness descended, a voice growled, “A simple operation and you nearly fucked it up.”

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Chapter Eleven “What the heck is wrong with you?” Demon twisted in his chair. “You’ve been up and down for the last twenty minutes.” “Something’s wrong.” Devil hadn’t been able to ignore the squirrel tail sweeping the back of his neck. “If I were in the field now, I’d be covering my ass bigtime. I’m heading back.” “I got something.” Demon’s fingers covered the keyboard. “Crap. Someone’s tapping into Bacchanal’s tapes. They broke our security. I’m tracing their movements.” “Phone me when you have more. I’m outta here.” Devil fumbled for his cell and then remembered giving it to Jess. “Lend me your cell. You can use the landline.” “Catch.” Devil caught the phone Demon tossed him and rushed out the door. He dialed his number before he reached the pickup. Three rings and right to voice mail. He shouldn’t have left Jess. Not when his ambush alarms were ringing at a deafening level. His instincts had never failed him, not in the three deployments to Afghanistan, not even when he’d been a kid living on the streets before his grandfather found him. He would not lose her. Could not lose her. Grateful the rain had halted, he hit the accelerator and maxed the pickup, uncaring of the speed limit. He took the back roads to Sinner’s, gambling that the weather and the remoteness of the route favored him avoiding the local cops.


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The car’s Bluetooth kicked in. He thumbed Answer and glanced at the dashboard LCD: Satan. “Speak to me. Tell me something good.” “Smith’s involved.” No surprise to him. His gut hadn’t been wrong in decades. “Stop the drama. Get to the point.” “The moving company’s a cover. I don’t have all the answers yet, but the op’s being run by Homeland Security’s terrorist division. I called in a favor and should know more within the hour.” Devil upped the car’s speed, every sense on full alert, his brain ticking in ten different directions at once. “Why the fuck would Smith ask Jess out? There’s no way she picked him randomly. We’re missing some crucial clue. Her laptop’s at my place. She said she looked up moving companies near Aung’s apartment. I’m siccing Demon on this one. It has to be some sort of search engine redirection.” “Agreed. I’ll call Demon. I’m assuming that you hooked her up to your network?” “Affirmative.” “You concentrate on getting to Sinner’s in one piece.” “I have a bad feeling on this one, Lorcan.” Bitterness coated Dominix’s tongue. “Sinner or Lucifer would’ve called us if anything went awry. She’s in the safest of hands, Dom. Besides, whoever’s behind this is sharp. It would be stupid to attempt anything at Sinner’s place. We’d nab them in a heartbeat.” Though he knew Satan’s argument made sense, Devil couldn’t shake the dread making him break out in a cold sweat. “Call Demon. I’m five minutes away.” Five minutes that took forever. He squealed to a stop in front of Sinner’s house, slammed out of the truck, hurdled the driveway, cleared the five steps in one long leap, pounded on the door, and jammed the bell at the same time. “What the heck’s wrong with you?” Sinner threw the door open.

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Devil elbowed him out of the way. “Where’s Jess?” “They’re doing the cake in the family room.” Sinner grabbed Devil’s arm. “Wipe that look off your face before you go in there. You’ll scare the daylights out of the kids.” “Don’t fucking get in my face.” Devil shoved Sinner to the right and took off. He didn’t register the din from the family room until he stood in the doorway. Devil took in the room in one swift glance. No Jess. He spotted Destiny wiping a toddler’s chin and reached her in five seconds. “Where’s Jess?” Glancing up, Destiny replied, “She should be here any second. She’s fetching the party hats and the bags from the cottage. Susanna went too.” Point in favor. Harder to take two women. “What’re you doing? Don’t open the door. It’s freezing outside.” Devil didn’t bother to answer but hit the deck running. He wasn’t halfway there when he spied Susanna hurrying out of the cottage pulling a bicycle and a large tray filled with party paraphernalia. She left the door open, but Jess didn’t follow. “Where’s Jess?” He grabbed Susanna by the shoulders. She frowned. “I don’t know. She wasn’t in the cottage. I figured something had happened and she went back to the house.” Fuck. He sprinted to the cottage and halted once he stood inside. Empty. Everything in place. Fuck. He couldn’t gulp in enough air. Time stopped. Panic hit him like a tornado. His training kicked in; he went through the ingrained breathing exercises until his pulse slowed. Sinner rushed through the doorway, followed by Lucifer. “Someone’s taken Jess.” “Maybe not.”


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Lucifer and Sinner exchanged glances, and Devil recognized the grim expression on their faces. “Give it to me.” “According to her cell, she arranged to meet Tom Gordon here at five thirty.” Only then did Devil notice his phone in Sinner’s hand. The blood drained from Devil’s brain. He saw red, orange; a kaleidoscope of flame colors blurred his vision. The memory of their last conversation in the cabana bath flooded his gray cells. She’d believed in him without even an explanation. “No. I know her. She wouldn’t cheat on me. She just agreed to move in with me, for fuck’s sake.” By the way they avoided meeting his gaze, Devil knew they felt sorry for him. Then he remembered, Jess hadn’t actually said yes. For a second, the panic hit him again. But his gut refused to believe in anything but Jess. “That’s my cell, not Jess’s. Why would she text Gordon on my phone and not bother to erase it if she was having an affair with him?” “She might’ve been breaking it off.” “No. Give me the phone.” Sinner handed it over. He brought up the recent message history. From Jess: Meet me 2day. Destiny’s guest cottage. 5:30. Got the Oscar nod. IRS off my back. “I thought you said Gordon’s record came up clean?” Lucifer shrugged. “It did.” “I’m calling Demon. He can activate the earring GPS.” Devil thumbed the number. “We need to find out about the IRS and Gordon. Later. After we get her back.” Demon answered on the first ring. “Yo.” “Jess is gone. Activate the earrings.”

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“Hang on.” Devil hit Speaker; he didn’t want to waste precious time with explanations. A full minute and forty-nine seconds elapsed. “Fuck. They’re here in the house. In the bedroom.” From Demon’s breathing, Devil could tell he was sprinting there. He closed his eyes and pictured them in the cabana bath. Visualized him tucking her hair behind her ear. “Don’t bother. She was wearing studs, square studs. Why the fuck would she take them off?” “Simmer down.” Lucifer grabbed the phone before Devil slammed it into the wall. “Demon, we’ll call you back.” A panting Destiny half walked, half jogged through the doorway. Lucifer and Sinner pivoted. “What the heck are you doing running?” Sinner scooped Destiny off her feet. “Jess is wearing my hoodie.” Destiny cuffed her husband’s shoulder. “Put me down. I’ll have you know Nalini’s still running three miles a day and she’s—Oh shit. I’m going to be killed. Slowly.” “Why did the fact that Jess is wearing your hoodie send you running down here?” Devil knew Destiny wouldn’t have risked Sinner’s anger if it weren’t important. “Susanna said she found blood on one of the chairs and that Jess wasn’t in the guest cottage. I saw Jess leave for the cottage myself. I was worried. And rightly so from the expressions on your faces. Where’s Jess?” “Missing.” Devil gestured to the empty room. “The hoodie?” “My paranoid husband has GPS implanted in all my coats.” Devil hauled Destiny out of Sinner’s embrace and planted a big kiss on her cheek. “I fucking love you, Destiny Chapman.” Sinner glowered at him when he set Destiny down. “Do not. Ever. Do that again.”


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“We’re wasting time. I’m assuming you have the tracking set up in the study on one of the PCs?” Devil asked. “Yes. Follow me.” Sinner swept Destiny off her feet and stalked out of the cottage. “Jess left the house at exactly five fifteen.” Destiny glanced at Devil. “I shouldn’t have let her go. I’m so sorry.” “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have left her alone.” Devil’s impatience grew with each slow step. “Which PC is the tracking on?” “Second one from the server and my notebook.” Sinner threw the words over his shoulder. “Use the notebook. We can take it with us.” Lucifer cleared his throat. “Go ahead, Devil. I’ll join you in a second. Destiny, would you care to finish that statement, Nalini’s still running three miles a day?” He took off before hearing Destiny’s answer and snarled a string of curses when he realized that in his haste, he hadn’t asked Sinner for the server password. He fingered the cell in his pocket. Something niggled at the corners of his brain, and he pulled the phone out. Halting, he thumbed through the text messages until he reached the last one from Tom fucking Gordon and then went one screen past. Have to cancel. Call u later. Devil checked the time on the message: 5:20. Why had Gordon cancelled his meeting with Jess at the last minute? It took an eternity to reach Sinner’s study. Before the notebook booted, Sinner walked into the room. “I called Satan and Demon. They’re on their way. Move over. I’ll be faster.” Devil yielded his seat, retrieved the USB Lucifer had given him earlier, and inserted it into a port on the server. “Where’s Lucifer? And what’s the password?” “Being violently ill by now. Nalini’s pregnant, and she’s been running three miles a day. He’s kicking himself for not noticing.” Sinner reached over and keyed in a code.

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“I have three red flags that are not connecting.” Devil welcomed the tranquility of poking holes until the hidden worm sprung. “One. What’s Gordon’s motive for taking Jess? Two. Why did an FBI undercover op take Jess out for coffee?” “What?” The question came from Lucifer, who stood in the doorway. Devil brought the two men current while flipping through Lucifer’s data on Tom Gordon. “Got her.” Sinner hit the mouse, and Jess’s location came up. “Let’s move out.” Devil punched the location into his phone and hissed. “She’s on the move.” Demon and Satan strode through the doorway. In less than one minute, Sinner explained the situation. “You two stay here and coordinate. Devil and I will go.” Demon’s tone didn’t brook any resistance. “Lucifer, take your wife home.” “Good idea, Demon. Here, take the notebook.” Sinner handed the computer to Devil. “Don’t argue. You’re in no mood to not get a ticket. Let Demon drive.” “Done. Gordon owns several commercial properties. One’s an abandoned warehouse not far from Jess’s last location. While you’re driving, I’ll coordinate with Lucifer. He did the goods on Gordon.” Devil snatched the USB from the server. “What’s the third flag?” Sinner walked them to the door. “The third flag is—what was the catalyst for Aung’s disappearance? Because this all started with that. Later.” Devil slammed the door on Demon’s sleek Jaguar, and the vehicle shot out of the driveway. Satan called before they hit the highway. “Aung’s an undercover agent recruited from Bynamar by, get this, Tom Gordon.” What? Devil stared at the speaker. “Frick. He’s a good guy?” Demon asked. “How reliable is this?” Before Devil did a mental reversal, he needed proof. “I’d stake my life on my source. I haven’t gotten to the good part. Gordon suggested Aung to Jess.”


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“Why?” It hit Devil all at once. “Communication. Aung did research for Jess and for some of her clients. She could communicate with Gordon through Jess.” “Correct. Jess would make a request for info on behalf of her authors. When Aung and Jess met weekly, she would hand over USBs with the data. One for each author.” “Perfect setup. A public meeting in different locations with a woman who was her mentor. I’m guessing that the Bynamar diplomatic corps was the target of the investigation?” Demon glanced at the GPS screen. “They’ve changed direction. Heading to the port.” “You’ve spoken with Gordon?” Devil wanted to have a session with the fucker himself. “No. And you’re right, Demon. Aung had orders to infiltrate through the visa office. She met Steve at the visa office and found out from him that Han Thein frequented the club. Han Thein is believed to coordinate all terrorist activities for a sleeper cell located in the city.” Satan’s tone meant he was holding something back. “That explains the Bacchanal connection. And Jess’s. Whoever has Jess knows about the USBs. That’s why her apartment was trashed.” Devil considered and abandoned several theories in ten seconds. “But whoever trashed the place isn’t responsible for the cameras and bugs. All they needed to do was examine the tapes. Makes sense now why they ripped open the books.” Demon geared down and turned left. “They want her alive long enough to find out how much she knows.” “We’ll find her before that, Dom.” “Fucking right we will, Lorcan. You got all this from Smith, right? That’s why he asked her out? To find out about the USBs? She must have said something to make him think she had them. Who else would she have told?” He smacked himself on the forehead. “I’m a fucking idiot. The landlady. Where are you?”

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“Lucifer and I left my place three minutes ago. Why?” Devil could hear Satan gearing down and the unique deep boat-thrumming of his custom-built Hummer. “We need to know if the landlady used has ever used a moving company. If she has, it obviously isn’t Smith’s. I’m guessing she and this Acme company are tied at the hip. Ten to one Acme has a warehouse somewhere near the port. That’s where they’re headed.” Devil’s Internet connection slowed to a crawl. “I can’t access anything worth a fricking dime.” “We pulled a U-turn and are headed back. Between the two of us, we’ll get you everything you need. Once we have an address, I’ll get Smith involved as backup.” Satan’s voice held a warning. Devil ignored the warning. “I call the shots on this one, Lorcan. He’s not to bring in his SWAT team, unless I give the word.” “I know, Dom. I know.” Satan ended the call. Devil lost all connection when they changed direction yet again. “They’re heading to a cargo loading area. When Lucifer broke into the embassy software, he noticed that for a small embassy, they shipped out cargo often. Two shipping companies were used. Ten to one there’s a moving company associated with each one. I’d lay any odds on it being Acme. Want to check them on your phone?” Three minutes later, they had an answer. “We need to call in Smith. I never expected this.” Devil didn’t like the available options one fricking bit. “Who could? That Mrs. Jones, the landlady, owns Acme, the company embassy contracts for all shipments to Bynamar? The same company that emptied Aung’s apartment?” Demon shook his head. “You have to leave it to Smith’s team, Dom.” It went against Devil’s grain, but Jess’s safety came first. “I’m calling Satan now.”


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“Hold on. They’ve stopped. You’re right. It’s a warehouse.” Demon had changed the GPS display to a satellite view. “I have the address. Destination End—that’s the name of the company that owns the building.” “I’m not letting them alone with her. Not for a second.” Devil snapped the lid on the notebook. “We’re about a mile away. I know this part of the city. In two blocks, we run into an area with nothing but abandoned buildings. We’re better off on foot.” Demon glanced at him. “What about using the GPS help line to get an idea of the terrain?” “That’s what emergency support’s for. Good call.” Demon shot him a grin. “There’s nothing like the adrenaline rush before a confrontation.” “I’m going to marry her. Tomorrow.” Devil didn’t know what made him blurt his intentions. “Not quite the adrenaline rush I was speaking about.” Demon shook his head. “Stop thinking with your dick. Sinner gave me his emergency pack. We’ve got two Uzis and a ton of ammo in the trunk.” “I’ve got my GLOCK with me and a few extra clips.” “Enough to do the job. I’ll do the support thing while you load the guns. They’ll want to tie me to the car through voice recognition. An added antitheft thing I’m working on.” Demon hit the ignition switch. “Done.” Devil exited the car and checked his surroundings. A lone functioning streetlight at the south end of the block didn’t illuminate anything other than the empty cans littering its base. Rusted car parts and busted tires added a certain sinister ambiance to the empty plot across the two-lane street. After he retrieved the gym bag from the trunk, Devil loaded the machine guns, checked the firing pins, and did the same for his .45. He glanced up when Demon opened the car door. “Any luck?”

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“You’re not the only one who oozes charm. I got the license of the Ford Escort parked outside the warehouse. Called in a favor. The car’s registered to one Stwe Than.” “The boyfriend?” Devil frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense. Unless…unless the landlady’s from Bynamar? But with a name like Jones? Fuck it. We’ll piece it together later. Let’s move out. I called Satan and told him we need immediate backup. He doesn’t know if Smith will be able to move in time. I’m going in.” “Got a strategy in mind?” “We have to assume they, whoever they are, called in the big guns. Let me handle this, Demon. No need for both of us to…” Devil met Demon’s gaze. “You’re wasting precious seconds of Jess’s time.” Right. Devil hadn’t expected a different answer. He’d do the same for Demon. And had. Many times. Devil stalked forward, slinking close to the walls of the buildings, pausing in the broken-down doorways to check for occupancy. Demon aped his moves but checked rooftops. They fell into the detect-and-destroy pattern they had used so often in the field in half-empty Afghanistan villages. They worked rapidly, clearing block after block, with Demon checking their progress against the coordinates from the GPS support line on his phone. Not nine minutes into the pursuit, Demon signaled Devil and they paused in a doorway to survey the dimly lit, two-lane street ahead. Not a movement. Not even a single shadow shifted. Using sign language, Demon spelled out the number of the address they wanted. Devil checked the faded letters on the wall of the building where they stood. Even. Their side of the road. Devil sprinted through the intersection with Demon in his tracks.


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“Third building on the right,” Demon whispered when they crossed into the next block. “Freeze.” Devil flattened against a slime-coated brick building that had seen better times. Immediately he spied what had alarmed Demon. Three black-clothed men crouched on the roof opposite, all armed, their weapons trained on the building. It killed Devil to wait. It killed him to let other men rescue his woman. But he knew the odds. And the odds favored the SWAT team Smith had sent in, the men now waiting on the rooftop. Stifling a sigh, Devil signaled stand down. Demon squeezed his shoulder in a silent show of support. Listening to the muffled gunshots, the sound of pounding feet, the interspersed shouted commands did nothing but up his adrenaline to the max. It took all his training to remain tacked to the wall and wait. The operation was over in nine agonizing minutes. Devil had his finger on Satan’s speed dial and hit the button the second he saw the men on the roof lower their weapons and signal all clear. “Tell Smith to alert his team commander. We’re going in.” “Hang on. I have him on the other phone. Do not go in until I—” Satan ordered. “All clear.” Devil fucking knew that already. “Jess is fine. One casualty,” Satan said. For the first time in his life, Devil understood the phrase weak-kneed. “Thank the fucking Lord.” “Proceed. The commander’s expecting you.” Devil was down the street, up the stairs, and through the broken doorway before Satan finished speaking. “Up the stairs. Second door on the right.” One of the men guarding the entrance pointed to the open stairwell. Jess would be shaken.

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Maybe hysterical. Certain to be crying. Though he knew it would be futile, Devil decided to demand the debriefing be postponed. Shock would have set in by now. His chest ached. He would’ve done anything to spare her the horrifying experience. The minute he reached the second floor, Devil flew down the hallway and shoved a termite-eaten door open to find Jess standing toe-to-toe with the commander. Hands on hips, eyes narrowed, she wore his favorite dragon-fire-spewing expression. “I demand to speak to them. Now.” A mixture of pride, love, and sheer joy paralyzed him. He could do nothing but stand there and drink her in, absorb every detail of this precious woman. She glanced at him. “Dominix, tell this brain-challenged person that I need to speak to Steve and Mrs. Jones.” He hauled her into his arms and kissed the stuffing out of her. Never had she tasted so wonderful, her lips soft as butter, creamy, and comforting—and alive. So fucking alive. Only when someone shook him from behind did Devil come up for air. “Chill, Devil. Let them debrief her so we can get out of here.” Demon’s words sank in on a ten-beat delay. “I am not being debriefed until after I’ve spoken to Mrs. Jones and Steve.” Jess tidied the locks Devil had mussed. She did that lovable stubborn chin jut, and his pride welled over. “I’d agree if I were you, Commander…?” “McGinnis. She belong to you?” The man looked ready to tear out his hair. “Oh yeah. And then some. Commander McGinnis, my fiancée, Jessica Blaine.” She shot him a narrow-eyed glance but didn’t refute his words. He grinned.


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“Ma’m. I’m afraid Steve was killed in the raid. And Mrs. Jones is on her way to the hospital.” McGinnis dragged a hand across his jaw. “I repeat. We’re taking you to a secure facility for debriefing and a medical checkup.” “Is he telling me the truth?” Jess folded her arms and tapped a booted foot. “Or is this some sort of SWAT doublespeak?” “It’s the truth.” He snaked an arm around her waist and kissed her forehead, then addressed McGinnis. “Mind if I ride along?” “Matter of fact, I have orders to take the two of you with us.” McGinnis didn’t look happy about his orders. “You don’t need me.” Demon straightened from his slouched-in-the-doorway position. “Orders from above.” McGinnis looked from Devil to Demon. The operation must be bigger than their deductions to date. Or they had discovered a security breach? Devil knew better than to oppose an inevitable train of events. “Lead the way.” “How’re you holding up?” He twined his and Jess’s fingers together as they followed the SWAT commander to a truck. “I’m fine. No. I’m on fast-forward. I have all this pent-up energy. I can’t believe it. Mrs. Jones. That sweet, addled old lady. What a monster. Aung’s dead, isn’t she? What I can’t figure out is, why did they want her USBs?” Devil explained his theory quickly and warned her not to speak in front of the SWAT team on the ride. Before they entered the waiting vehicle, a guard relieved him of his cell. Demon’s cell. Once they were on the move, he shut up. Jess followed suit. Knowing the route would be circuitous and designed to confuse, he didn’t even consider trying to determine their destination. They exited into an underground parking lot that resembled millions of others. He’d warned Jess they would be separated, and when they were, she mouthed, I love you.

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His interrogation went much shorter than hers, and Devil spent the wait deciding how he wanted to channel the adrenaline high she rode. When Demon joined him on the lobby bench some forty minutes into his delectable fantasies, he had to shake his head to refocus on the present. “What you got?” “Not much. I do know we’re each being transported back separately.” Devil shot to his feet. “What the fuck?” “Security reasons. Satan, apparently, is the only one with the clearance to hear the whole tale. And he maintains that we are to comply with whatever these fuckers want.” Demon rarely swore aloud. Never if he was in mixed company, which meant not in the presence of other SEALS. And he was famed for the iciness of his temper. At this moment, glacial couldn’t begin to describe his expression or voice. “Take your own advice. Chill. What about your car?” Devil asked. “Apparently it’s in my driveway. And ten to one, the odometer shows we never drove anywhere last night.” “Mr. Demon?” They both glanced at the man who’d joined them, his approach so silent neither of them had noticed. “That’s me.” “I’m to take you to your home.” Devil’s ride turned up an hour later. He slept the entire way home and woke up as the vehicle’s engines went silent. The log dwelling seemed to have become more of a home than what it used to be—a place to store his belongings—in the space of the last few days. His gaze swept the property. Jess. At long last. “Your phone, Mr. Zubiri.”


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“Thanks.” He accepted Demon’s cell. The squad had a ton of wrapping up to do. Later. Right now he had a woman to wrap around: her legs locked around his back, his head, the possibilities were endless. When he opened the door, Jess stepped into his arms. He buried his nose in her damp hair, hugged her close, and inhaled the heady fragrance of Jess, his woman, his mate. The woman he wanted to wake up to, to come home to, to hold in his arms every single day for the rest of his life. She drew back, smiled at him, and his gut wrenched when he noticed a teardrop sliding down her cheek. “Jess?” “I’m moving in tomorrow, if that’s okay with you.” The words marry me jumped into his throat. His cell clanged. Maybe the gods had sent a message to his sorry-ass brain. Don’t scare her. Chill. Take it slow. “After we move you in, we’ll go shopping. Buy some dishes.” He kept an arm curled around her waist, fumbled for the phone, and hit the Receive button. “Yeah.” “We’re meeting at the office in twenty.” Satan’s tone made the statement an order, not a suggestion. “We?” “Bring Jess. I’m only going over this once.” “Done.” He ended the call, kissed the tip of her nose, and wished they had time for the shower he’d been visualizing for hours. “Satan—” She feathered a finger over his mouth. “I heard. Too bad. I drew a bath. Lit candles. Had big plans for lathering you all over.” His dick steeled. Crap. Now he had to sit through a meeting with a primed and pumped boner. “Can I take a rain check on that bath?”

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“Only if you’ll trade for a quickie in the shower?” She gave him that sexy side peek he lived for, and yelped when he scooped her up. “I take it that’s a yes?” “Hell yes.” He kissed her, jogged to the bathroom, and slid her down his body. “Don’t just stand there. Turn on the shower and then strip. I want you inside me pronto.” “Yes, ma’m.” He saluted and obeyed her order, adjusting the temperature of the water. “I did a lot of thinking tonight, Dominix. It’s amazing how easy it is to lose sight of what’s really important in life. I love you. I want to be with you. And I like you being who you are. And just so you know, I won’t share you either.” “I so fucking love you.” He glanced over his shoulder and froze. His cock went nuts in his pants. She had shed her shirt, bra, and jeans and wore a frothy thong confection he would have happily spent long minutes teething off her. “You are so delicious.” “Where’s that SEAL speed when we need it?” She unbuttoned his shirt and jeans. “Lose the shirt. I’ll get the pants.” “No way, cheerleader. I’m too ready. Touch me, get those sweet lips near my cock, and I’ll fire.” He sat on the toilet lid, shucked his boots, socks, jeans, and shirt. “I am so tempted to take off that thong with my teeth, but that’s a rain check too.” She opened the shower door, peeked in, did that saucy shoulder wriggle, and his erection went wild. “And just how do you use the stool?” “Never been used, babe. I bought it the day after Sinner’s birthday.” He sprang to his feet, hauled her close, and sighed, a long, long sigh at the silk of her warm flesh, the tactile connection of them skin to skin. “I so regret all that time we wasted.” He loved the elegant line of her neck, the rapid pulse beating at the center of her throat, the dreamy, half-lidded way she stared at him. “No regrets, Jess. The wait only serves to sweeten the pot.”


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“You are the most incredible man.” She stroked his cheek. “And I’m a very lucky woman.” “And getting luckier in two seconds.” Cupping her ass, he lifted and ordered, “Wrap your legs around my waist and hang on, babe.” She complied, and he rocked her up and down, testing her readiness, and groaned when his dick slipped easily through her creamy folds. She bit his nipple as he stepped under the heated stream of water. His focus blurred when she reached down and ran a finger around the head of his dick. “I’m setting you down now. Steady?” “I get to lather first.” “Uh-uh. Turn.” He gripped her waist when she faced the wall, lifted one leg, and positioned the stool so her foot rested firmly in the middle of the wooden slats. Pussy perfection. “In this position, I can have my cake and eat it too. I get to see my dick sliding in and out of these pink lips. And I can finger your clit and play with your breasts. And even kiss you while I’m fucking. Like this.” Devil knew he wouldn’t last long. He went slow, pushing into her heat, savoring her tightness. A rosy nipple caught his attention. He bent his head, latched on to the bud, and used his tongue and teeth, while grazing her clit with his thumb. She arched back and grabbed his ass. “Fuck me, Devil.” “I will. Once you’re screaming my name.” He pinched her clit and fondled her breast. “Oh my God.” From her response, she got off on having her nipple tweaked, so he did it again. “Devil. Do it.” “Give me your mouth.” She half twisted, and he caught her lips, did a tongue dance, and mimicked the slow cadence with his fingers, sliding two from clit to the base where they were joined. Remembered the feather and their joint finger fucking, captured her hand, and placed her palm onto her folds.

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“Set the pace.” She squirmed and rocked, switched hand positions, took hold of his forefinger, and rubbed it over her clit. “Harder, damn it.” He drew his cock out so the crown rimmed her center, rooted for her breast, and bit hard while he plunged into her and pinched her clit. She screamed his name, and her pussy fisted the head of his dick, sucking at him. He lost it. Went into the pumping fuck dance. The intoxicating pound and retreat, his mouth in breast and nipple paradise, the water hammering his back, their wet flesh slapping above the murmur of the shower. His balls knitted tight and hard; her internal walls worked his dick. The climax let loose, racing up and across his groin. Hot spurts erupted from his cock. He roared her name and hugged her tight, knowing he’d never let her go.


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Chapter Twelve “Let’s get started.” Satan leaned forward and swept a glance around the conference room. “Aung Khi is dead. We believe Mrs. Jones killed her on orders from Han Thein, who, by the way, has returned to Bynamar.” Satan had come over to the cottage to break the news to Jess personally before they had all headed to the squad’s office. It had been rough hearing him say the words, but she’d held up. This public acknowledgment, for some reason, speared her soul. Jess bit her lips and fought the tears. Devil draped an arm over her shoulder and kissed her temple. He handed her a tissue, squeezed her tight, and rubbed her wrist. “That stinks. He’s going to get away with everything. But I expected nothing less. When did he leave?” Demon, seated opposite Jess, slunk down in the chair. “The day after he won Aung at the auction.” Lucifer, his damp blond locks loose and brushing his shoulders, sat at the head of the table. “They found her body?” “Yes, buried in Mrs. Jones’s backyard. Medical examiner says she was tortured and then strangled.” Jess tried to squelch the images Satan’s words prompted. She forced herself to concentrate on his explanation. Devil twined her fingers with his and drew his thumb over hers. “Han Thein has known terrorist connections. Homeland Security monitors his movements closely, and when he began to frequent Bacchanal, a decision was made to try to blackmail him into becoming a double agent. As an FYI, Tron is an operative charged with getting close to Han.”

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“Tron? A spy? Lordy, and to think I would—” She clamped her lips together and risked a glance at Devil. She’d been about to say, and to think I would’ve had to give him a blowjob. Devil’s brows had become a straight line. He avoided looking her way, and she knew he had guessed the end of her sentence. She noted a movement across the table and glanced that way. Demon winked at her. “Makes sense. Han’s a known sadist. Get the goods on him, force him to choose between going back to his country and turning coat. We all know what choice he’d take.” Thanking Demon a thousand times for the conversation redirection, she said, “I don’t understand. Why would Han want to stay here? I mean, he’s a terrorist. They hate us.” “That’s the rub. Terrorists decry us. Shout to the world that our way of life is decadent. Yet look at what they found in Bin Laden’s compound—cases of Coke, American chocolates, porn, and food. And where was he living? In an affluent neighborhood. Han wouldn’t have wanted to go back to Bynamar, trust me.” “And we’re talking about a man used to the soft diplomatic life. Sex clubs, expensive dinners, premium invitations. The background I did on Han proves he’s no religious fanatic, but the opposite. He’s a lazy, amoral sadist. His bosses would have forced him to return to Bynamar if those photos Aung and Steve took were plastered all over the newspapers. The networks would’ve had a field day. Aung looks no older than fourteen.” Lucifer pushed back his chair and crossed one knee over the other. A terrible coldness crept over Jess, and an icy finger trailed up her spine. She shivered and shifted her chair closer to Devil’s needing his warmth. Had Han tortured Aung? Mrs. Jones? The both of them? She didn’t want to think about Aung’s last moments. Another thought occurred. “Can we give Aung a decent burial? After they’ve finished with whatever they’re doing?” “Of course we can. Satan, after we’re done here, give me the contacts.” Devil kissed her palm. “We’ll also see if we can find a way to notify her parents.”


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She couldn’t stop a sniff and wiped away a tear. “To get back on track. Tom Gordon lectures at many universities. He’s ex-FBI. Aung approached him after a lecture. He turned her name over to the bureau, and they brought in the CIA. They recruited her a few months ago.” Satan delivered the bombshell as if he read a weather report. Jess’s jaw dropped. She shook her head. She hadn’t heard right. “Tom? My client, Tom?” Her voice came out as a squawk. She’d kill Tom. He was a spy? Okay, she knew he was ex-FBI, but this was too much. Way too much. “He retired from the FBI ages ago.” “It’s like being a SEAL,” Devil explained. “Once a SEAL, always a SEAL. Don’t be too pissed at him. He did the right thing. We’re at war. Terrorism is the biggest threat the free world faces.” She couldn’t believe it. Devil had just defended Tom Gordon. No, according to him, Tom fucking Gordon. Men. Definitely from Mars. “But why would Aung approach Tom?” “Because of you, Jess. She knew he was your client. He writes books about terrorists and spies, and everyone knows he’s ex-FBI. And the lecture topic was ‘What to do if you suspect someone of terrorism.’” Devil squeezed her hand. “Gordon was the one to suggest that you hire Aung to do research, wasn’t he?” “Now that I think back, it sort of happened over a dinner. I’m not sure if this is the right term, but was Tom her handler?” How naive had she been? “No. That would have been someone else.” Jess frowned and checked Devil’s expression, but he wore his military composure. How could he be so certain? Satan cleared his throat. “Can we continue?” Nodding, knowing she blushed, Jess vowed to keep quiet. “This is what we know. Aung was sent to the US to be part of a sleeper cell that included Mrs. Jones. Aung met Steve, who’s a US citizen. The two of them fall

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in love. Aung approaches Tom Gordon, who turns her over to the CIA, making her a double agent.” “Wait a minute. Which came first? Did she fall in love with Steve? And then decide to approach Tom? Or was it the other way around?” Jess asked. “I don’t know if we’ll ever know which came first. What we suspect is that Aung didn’t know Mrs. Jones was part of the sleeper cell. What, Jess?” Satan glanced at her. “I’m confused. If Aung was sent here to be part of a sleeper cell, how could she not know about Mrs. Jones?” It seemed logical to Jess. “Sleeper cells are all about testing the agent. Aung wouldn’t have known who her handler was until they were ready to activate her. In addition, Mrs. Jones is originally from Thailand, a country that borders Bynamar. I doubt that Aung even knew she was an immigrant. You spoke to her. Her English is flawless.” ‘That’s true. She has a Bronx accent.” Jess shook her head. “And yet Aung ends up renting Mrs. Jones’s basement apartment? Isn’t that a tad too convenient?” “Aung would have been subtly directed to a few places. All of which would have been suspect. I’m sure Aung knew she was being watched and took pains to be secretive. Hence the hiding of the USB, but did Aung suspect Mrs. Jones? I doubt we’ll ever know.” Lucifer’s diplomatic way of telling Jess not to go there. She sighed. “Go ahead.” “To continue. Steve’s parents are missionaries, and they, along with his younger brother, were presumed missing after the tsunami hit Bynamar. He was desperate to go there and find his family. Han Thein refused his visa application. Steve decides to try a different approach, finds out about Han’s Bacchanal activities, and starts to go to the club. Following me so far?” Satan’s gaze swept the room. One by one, everyone nodded.


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“Aung becomes involved. They decide on a blackmail scheme. Tribal was the one to put the last piece in place. What Aung offered that night was a day of S/M play supervised by a specified witness, Steve.” “I don’t understand. Wouldn’t Aung and Han have known about each other?” Jess rubbed her temple. “Not at all,” Satan replied. “The way sleeper cells work is this—you only know the name and contact information of your controller. No one else.” Jess couldn’t reconcile the Aung she knew with Aung the terrorist. No. Aung was not a terrorist; she’d changed her mind and approached Tom. Who was a spy, or was it just that he had spy contacts? Lordy, so much confusion. “Aung played everything close to her chest. You said it yourself, Jess. She was very reticent about her family. She was the same about Steve. Mrs. Jones found out about Steve the night before you were supposed to meet Aung. The night of the auction. Mrs. Jones alerted Han.” “Whoa. Hold it there. Steve bid for Aung against Han. Why?” Demon sat up and glared at Satan. “At the last minute, Aung changed her offer. No witnesses. Tribal verifies that he was concerned and mentioned it to Steve right before the bidding started.” “She wanted to protect him.” Jess would’ve done the same. “Steve sent me that picture, didn’t he?” “Yes. We’ve traced the e-mail to the cell he had on him when he died. Mrs. Jones kidnapped Steve after she tortured information out of Aung. She wanted to know exactly what he knew.” “How did she know where I was? And I’m positive it was a man who put the cloth on my face.” “That was probably Steve being forced to kidnap you by Mrs. Jones.” “He punched me, though. Why would he do that?”

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“It’s amazing what you do when you have a gun to your head. And Steve was probably dejected and resigned to his death. It sometimes happens that way.” Devil tucked a stray lock back into place. “Did the SWAT team have to kill Steve?” Jess didn’t know if Satan could answer her question, but she had to ask. “They didn’t kill him. Mrs. Jones did.” “What? How do you know that?” Had she been responsible in some way? “The SWAT team found his body in another room. Mrs. Jones, by the way, was headed to where they’d dumped you. You were next in line, Jess.” Satan’s grim words made Jess shudder. “Now it’s time for you to tell us what happened.” She’d been dreading this part but took some comfort from the fact that Devil still held her hand. “I went to the cottage for two reasons. To get the birthday present, the hats, and the bags. But I had also arranged to meet Tom there. Tom’s being audited by the IRS, and the media had cottoned on to that. I had to find out if there was any chance of him being convicted. It’s not the kind of matter you discuss in an e-mail or on the phone.” Jess glanced at Devil when he rubbed her shoulder. “I’m good, babe.” A wash of relief swept through Jess. She took a deep breath and continued. “When I tried to turn on the light, it didn’t work. The next thing I knew, someone had a cloth over my mouth. I tried to fight, tried not to inhale, but he punched me in the stomach and I passed out. I woke up in an empty room. They hadn’t tied me up. It was dark. I couldn’t see anything. I had no idea who had kidnapped me. Where I was.” Devil handed her a glass of water. How did he know her throat had dried up? She sipped, surprised that her fingers shook, and set the glass down right away. Suddenly she wanted everything over and done with. A long soak in a tub. For Devil to hold her and never let her go.


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“I knew I couldn’t afford to panic. So I took a few deep breaths and felt my way around the room. Found the door. Then I heard shots. Do you know I’d never heard a gunshot before? Outside of a movie or TV show?” Devil gave her the glass again, and she gulped down the liquid. Jess held the tumbler with both hands and managed to get it on the table. She stared at the sloshing water. “It was hard not to panic then. I didn’t know what was happening. But I figured the best spot would be in the corner on the far side of the door. When the door burst open, I was ready to jump whoever came in.” “You did great, Jess.” Satan’s reassurance didn’t stop the shudders racking her body. “Take her home. It’s finally hitting her.” “What’s hitting me?” Jess asked. “The shock.” Devil shoved her chair back and hauled her into his arms. “Later. I’m taking a few days off.” “Expected that. We got your back.” Satan stood as Devil neared the doorway. He touched her arm. “We’re all proud of you.” Devil bundled her into a blanket and wrapped her as snug as a swaddled newborn. He belted her into the passenger seat before she could formulate a rational thought. Jess didn’t know how or when they reached the house. Her mind had gone into some sort of shutdown, and she welcomed the void. “Bath first. Are you hungry at all?” Devil asked as he kicked the front door shut. “No food. A bath sounds like heaven.” She burrowed into his arms, inhaling the comforting aroma of him, relishing the haven of his embrace. The shaking stopped soon after he lowered her into the tub in the now familiar position—his legs cradling her, her back to his chest, his lips grazing her temple. “I am so proud of you, Jess.”

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“I did panic, you know. For the first few minutes when I woke up in that horribly dark room. I was so scared, Dominix.” She lifted her hand out of the water. “My fingers are still trembling.” “It’s a normal reaction.” He thumbed her nipple, a slow, lazy caress. “First that adrenaline rush that had you jumping my bones earlier. Now your body’s zoning down. You’re safe, and you need reassurance of that.” “I’m positive your fingers don’t tremble after you’ve been on a mission.” She traced his powerful quadriceps, enjoying the feel of the firm muscle, the way his thighs clenched under her caress. “No. I upchuck.” He stayed her hand. “Later. You need food first, then sleep.” “No. What I need is you inside of me.” His nostrils flared. “Always give a lady what she needs. That’s my credo.” Jess grinned, turned around, and sighed when she saw his massive erection. She grasped the base, ran a finger over the tempting slit, and then lowered herself on him. Closing her eyes, she slid down his length, relishing the sweet invasion. He captured her lips, his fingers rolled her nipples, tugging the burning peaks, and she leaned in to the caress. His tongue wrapped around hers, and she surrendered to the maleness of his taste. He gripped her waist and thrust. His tongue plundered her mouth in time to his cock pillaging her pussy. She came fast and furious after no more than seven strokes. But he wasn’t satisfied. He reached between them to pinch her clit, and his mouth closed over her breast. He suckled hard, his teeth grazing her nipples. He pulled away, and a jolt of pain-ecstasy sent her into another frenetic climax. He clambered out of the tub, lodged hard inside her. Every movement wedged him deeper, and she couldn’t stop the orgasms. When he lifted her off his cock, Jess scrambled to get a grip on his wet shoulders. “Devil, what’re you doing?”


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“This.” He jammed his arms under her thighs, set her back to the wall, and drove inside. She screamed his name, and the torrent began again. He pounded her without mercy, his cock hitting the sweet bundle of nerves in her walls. She couldn’t think, could barely breathe, and when his balls slapped her sensitized labia, Jess bit his shoulder. He roared her name, his head whipped back, and through glazed eyes, she drank in the beauty of his face, his bared teeth, the hooded pupils so black and fathomless, and the arrogant line of his nose. His head dropped, and he rested his forehead on her collarbone. Jess couldn’t get enough of him. She traced the whorls of his ear, kissed the top of his head, and wrinkled her nose when the spiky hair tickled. “I must be getting heavy for you.” “Never. I do believe you’re going to be the death of me, Jessica Mary Blaine. I just can’t get enough of you. My dick goes into overdrive whenever I get within sniffing distance.” His lips grazed her skin. A smile she knew to be foolish and silly tugged at her lips. She loved being his femme fatale. “Guess what?” “I can’t. Not yet. Give me an hour or so.” He drew back, flashed her a grin, and winked. “My tongue’s always ready though, babe. And there’s nothing I’d love more than licking you for an hour or two.” “You are relentless.” She cuffed him. “What I was about to say is that I’m starving.” “So am I.” He licked her throat. “See?” “Food, Devil.” His eyebrows arched, and then he frowned. “You’ve never called me that. Not in a good way. And that was a good way, right?”

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“Definitely. I think I was always afraid of the Devil part of you. I’m not anymore. I’ve discovered, Dominix Alexander Zubiri, that I love all of you.” Jess kissed the tip of his nose. “Especially the Devil part.” He stared at her, opened his mouth, and then shook his head. “What? What were you going to say?” She chucked his jaw. “Did I just flummox the unflappable Devil?” “I love you back.” A deep crimson shade colored his cheeks. He slid out of her and lowered her feet to the tiles. “Now. Let’s get you fed.” The day flew by. They ate, slept, and made love again. Around four, Devil decided they needed to go shopping, and they went to a nearby mall. There, he insisted that she choose an everyday set of dishes, glasses, and cutlery. They wandered around the shops holding hands. She stopped to admire a china tea set, and he purchased the entire outrageously priced set, including serving dishes. When Jess protested, he dipped her and tongue kissed her right there in the middle of the shop. And it wasn’t just one kiss, but so many that she was dizzy and unsteady when he finally stopped. Everyone in the store hooted and whistled and applauded them. “You shouldn’t have,” she chided two hours later. Jess finished drying the rosepatterned china and paused to admire the porcelain before setting the plate atop the eleven others in the kitchen cabinet. “I was afraid to so much as look at anything else in the mall. Honestly, Dominix, you can’t buy me everything I admire.” He shrugged. “Why not? I like buying you things.” “I won’t go shopping with you again.” She meant it too. “It’s nerve-racking. Not to say flustering. I thought you were going to make love to me right there in the ice cream parlor. And as for buying one of every type of cone and five gallons of ice cream.” She shook her head. “It’ll take us forever to go through them. He pulled her toward the fire.


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“What are you doing?” “Setting the mood. I’ve been fantasizing about having you for dessert since you licked that cone this afternoon. I figure on using up at least one of those gallons tonight.” “Not only are you a deviant devil, you’re also devious.” She giggled. “Devious, deviant Devil. It has a nice ring to it.” When he didn’t respond, she checked his face and was taken aback by his grim expression, the tight set of his lips. “What’s wrong?” “I’ve a confession to make.” He hauled her into his arms and sat on the floor. The logs in the fireplace had just begun to glow, and the aroma of pine filled the room. “The rose petals and the candles were Demon’s idea.” Jess settled on his lap and glanced at him. “Don’t look so worried. It’s not the end of the world.” “I told you that night. I don’t do this shit well.” “And I told you that night. You do it very well.” She snuggled into his embrace. “I don’t need rose petals and candles.” “I should also tell you…” He swallowed, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. Alerted by the tone of his voice, Jess held her breath. “My mother was a British student. She was a drug addict who supported her habit by waiting tables and prostitution. During one of her clean spells, she met my father, the son of a Greek fisherman, and I was born. He married her, and she tried to kick her habit. But ended up leaving. My father went after her and left me with a cousin. He and my mother died in a drug park in Amsterdam. My cousin died in a car accident, and I ended up on the streets.” She couldn’t resist kissing his jaw. He stroked her back but didn’t move his focus from the charred log. “I told you before. I had a happy childhood after my grandfather took me in. He lived with two other men his age. The three of them owned a fishing trawler. I

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never wanted for anything. He made me go to school and made sure I had a British passport.” Jess studied his profile: Devil’s full, sexy lips, the stubborn line of his jaw, and the sexy dark stubble. “My grandfather died when I was eighteen and made me promise to join the Navy. The old bastard knew I had a wild streak and needed the discipline. I met Annie when I was twenty-five. Fell head over heels. We started living together. Then I was promoted to first officer on a sub. I was gone for long periods at a time. She was a closet alcoholic. I never knew. Not until my commander called me into his office and broke the news. She’d committed suicide.” “Oh, Dominix. That’s awful. But it’s not your fault. How could it be? You didn’t drink. And—” He silenced her with two fingers. “I need to finish.” She nodded. “Fast-forward two years. I meet Alicia in Spain. I took it easy this time. Got to know her. She didn’t drink. The only woman I think I’ve ever known who was a complete teetotaler. We moved in together. Exactly one month later, she was diagnosed with lung cancer.” Her heart ached, and tears pooled in her eyes. “How old was she?” “Twenty-five. She went fast. I took a leave of absence to be with her. One day I came home from running errands and found the pill bottle on the floor.” Looping her arms around his head, she forced him to look at her. “You went through two horrible, tragic deaths. Neither of which you could’ve prevented. How could you think it would matter to me?” “You don’t understand. I should have seen the signs. I failed to protect the woman I loved. Not once, but twice.” “You can’t protect someone from herself. Annie killed herself. I’ve always thought suicide the most selfish, deliberately cruel act a person could commit. She


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didn’t give a damn what it would do to you. And as for Alicia.” She shook her head. “How could you have prevented that?” “Alicia smoked. I should’ve insisted she quit.” “No. You don’t. You’re looking for ways to blame yourself. People make choices. None of those deaths were your fault. And deep down, you know it. I love you, Dominix, but I will not let you allow the memory of those women to sully our relationship. Let it go. Forgive yourself and move on. I know that’s easier said than done. All I ask is that you commit to doing that. Can you?” He met her gaze then. “For you, I would and can do anything.” “That’s wonderful, but I want you to do this for you.” When he opened his mouth to answer, she stopped him. “Don’t answer that now. Think about it. I want you to be sure.” Removing her hand from his lips, he said, “I don’t have to think about it, Jess. I know what I want. And what I want is you. A lifetime with you. A family with you.” Every bone in her body turned to mush. As did her brain. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring. “This has been burning a hole in my pocket for way too long. Will you marry me, Jessica Mary Blaine? Have kids with me? Fill this cottage with furniture and make it a home?” The tears streamed down her cheeks, plopped onto her chest, and raced down her shirt. Too many frogs filled her throat for her to get any words out, so she nodded and held out her hand. Jess couldn’t take her eyes off him slipping a perfect pink square diamond onto her ring finger. “Say yes, Jess. I need to hear you say it.” “Yes, Dominix Devil Alexander Zubiri. Yes, a zillion times, yes.”

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They made love in front of the fireplace. Never noticed when the last lick of flames died. Never noticed when the rain started. Never noticed the thundering chorus Mother Nature played. Afterward they cuddled in the blanket and talked for hours. Quarreled about a wedding date, about how many children they should have, and when they should start trying to get pregnant. Over breakfast, they continued the arguments. Jess insisted they visit Destiny and Sinner’s to show off her ring. Destiny insisted on having an impromptu party, which somehow included not only all the Hades Squad members, but also all of the Chapman family. By the time the party ended in the wee hours of the morning, everything and more had been decided. The wedding date was set for the next Saturday. Destiny would be her matron of honor, Demon, the best man who would also act on behalf of her father and lead her up the aisle. Every detail had been attended to, including the ring bearer—Destiny and Sinner’s godson. “How can Mrs. Chapman be so sure we’ll be able to get a church next Saturday?” “My mother-in-law is on the board that prepares for the pope’s visit. Believe me, any parish priest on Long Island will bend over backward to accommodate her. She’s amazing. Watch, she’ll have everyone dancing to her tune within minutes. Arranging weddings is a sort of forte for her—she does have five daughters.” Destiny patted Jess’s hand. “I observe and learn. Somehow she manages to get every single Hades Squad member to do her bidding, sometimes without making a direct request. I swear even Satan walks a wide path around her.” Destiny’s words proved prophetic. Somehow Mrs. Chapman bullied Devil and Jess into promising to live apart for the seven days before the wedding. Jess was corralled into staying in Destiny and Sinner’s guest cottage.


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Jess was amazed when, at the end of the night, Mrs. Chapman herself escorted Devil to the pickup. And even more astounded when he didn’t return after the elder Chapmans left. That week, he insisted on meeting Tom Gordon for lunch, and much to her surprise, the two men bonded right away. Jess grilled Tom about his spy activities, and he swore on his pinky that he was retired. Tom mentioned that the IRS had called off their audit, and the two men exchanged a glance and both sported knowing grins. After Tom left, Jess asked, “Did he use his FBI influence to get the IRS off his back?” Devil shrugged. “Probably. I never thought I’d ever say this, but it was a pity he had to cancel meeting you at the cottage. There’s no way Mrs. Jones would’ve taken you if he’d been there.” Jess repressed a grin at Devil’s grudging tone. “You can’t blame Tom for cancelling. His brother was in a car accident, for crying out loud.” “A fender bender. Wuss. I went through hell that night.” Devil scowled at the table. “And you could’ve been hurt.” “His little brother. The kid’s only seventeen.” Jess decided to change the topic. “Do you believe Tom? About being retired?” “I’m a retired SEAL.” Devil kissed her fingertip. “And if they needed you tomorrow, you’d be gone in a heartbeat.” Jess sighed. “One thing I don’t understand. Do Tom and Charles Smith work together?” “No. Gordon knows nothing about Smith’s operation. Or knew. I imagine they both know of each other now. When did you visit the moving company?” “The Thursday before the auction. Why?” “Smith’s moving company specializes in colleges with high percentages of foreign students. They’re always the low bidder. Mrs. Jones had several students over the years. Not one used their company, even though they were the lowest bid. She was in their net. After you inquired about Aung, Charles asked you out for

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coffee, questioned you surreptitiously, but figured you knew nothing. A couple of days later, you found the USB. Who did you tell about that?” “No one. Honestly.” Jess strained her memory. “It made me uneasy. I carried it in my purse and, when I had spare time, read through the files.” She loved the way he had to be touching her. Under the table, he’d initiated an exciting game of footsie. On top of the table, he held both her hands, occasionally turning one over to kiss her palm. She had to shake her head to remember his question. “Mrs. Jones came down twice while I was searching Aung’s apartment. But she wasn’t there when I found the USB, and I tucked it into my jacket pocket right away.” “They must have tortured the information out of Aung after you searched the basement. Mrs. Jones looked for the USB behind the mirror, couldn’t find it, and drew the logical conclusion that you’d found it. Mrs. Jones and her accomplices needed to get the USB. That’s why they tried to kidnap you.” “Isn’t that a bit drastic? Why not just search the condo first?” “They did. According to the info Satan received recently, Mrs. Jones sent in two people that week while you were out at appointments. They didn’t find the USB and concluded you had it on your person.” She shivered. “When those men tried to shove me into that van—those were the most terrifying minutes of my life. I was so glad I’d already arranged to meet with Satan and Lucifer the next day.” “After checking with Destiny to make sure I was out of town. I figure you need punishing for that one.” She cuffed him. “Don’t even think about it.” He winked. “I promise it’ll be sweet torture.” But she couldn’t laugh. That word, torture, brought the image of ebi-tied Aung to the forefront of her mind. “Who trashed my condo, then?” Devil signaled the waiter for another cappuccino. “Mrs. Jones herself.”


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“I was convinced that Charles Smith had done it. Why else would he show up at my building that night?” “Smith saw you at the Bacchanal. You’d been asking about Aung, and he was watching the address you gave him.” “Which was Mrs. Jones’s address. Why was he at the condo that night, then?” “Smith decided to keep an eye on you. When the first burglary was phoned in, he hightailed to the building. Yours was the last condo checked, so he had time to plant everything.” “What a relief.” Jess plunked her head on Devil’s shoulder. “So no one’s been watching me?” “Nope. You don’t have to worry about that anymore.” He toyed with her hair. “Wait a minute, how could Smith have known about the burglaries?” It seemed to Jess that every answer prompted a dozen more questions. “Simple, babe, he scanned police communication.” “Wow. You live in a different world from mine. Scanning police communication would be the last thing I’d describe as simple.” Jess studied Devil and tried not to think of how dangerous his job was. “Were the three intruders on the property from Smith or Jones?” She snickered at her poor pun. “Smith. We’d left the cameras in place, remember? He saw you and me going through your condo.” “There’s one other thing that’s bothering me. Was Aung pretending to have a missing relative to get close to Steve?” “Who knows? She was obviously a reluctant spy for Bynamar. I’d guess that the Bynamar authorities probably held one or more of her relatives hostage. The tsunami was massive and disastrous. Maybe one of her relatives did go missing then. Enough. Let’s get back to us.” Devil hauled her into his lap. “I’m going nuts,

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babe. All I can think about is pink—pink pussy, pink mouth. You name it, I’m seeing pink.” “It’s only four more days.” She sighed. “I know what you mean, though. I am so horny all the time.” Her entire face heated. “I see you blush and my dick’s on fast-forward. Wanna have phone sex for the next four nights? You’ll have to talk down and dirty to get me off.” He waggled his brows, and she sighed. Did she have it bad or what? Jess didn’t think phone sex would work for her, but she agreed. That night they didn’t hang up the phone till just before dawn. And the delicious, wicked things she said and did amazed even her. That set the pattern for the long three days and nights that followed. Raunchy phone sex until the wee hours of the morning, and then decorous daytime visits at Sinner and Destiny’s house. They had lunch, breakfast, and dinner every day, always accompanied by a female member of the Chapman family. By Friday, Jess had reached the summit of Frustration Mountain. Her fantasies had become rampant and inopportune. In the middle of a client meeting, she visualized Devil and her against the bathroom wall. While picking out the music for the ceremony with the choir, she had a sudden image of Devil’s shiny face between her thighs. Even during the required meeting with the priest, her wantonness reared, and all she could think of was how much she wanted to nuzzle Devil’s groin. Devil showed up at the start of her bridal tea shower and refused to vacate the premises. When the requisite male stripper showed up, the poor man took one look at the glowering Devil and offered to give Destiny her money back. After he left and the women began chanting for Devil to strip, her fiancé did a hilarious roadrunner imitation and vanished out the door. Saturday dawned with cerulean skies and a brilliant sunrise. Jess stared out the window of the guest cottage, hoping somewhere above, her parents knew she’d ended up happy and in love. The wind must have been fierce


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outside, because gravel dusted the tinted pane not once, not twice, but a half-dozen times. The shadows hadn’t lifted, and she barely glimpsed a familiar profile. She hopped out of bed and peered. Demon? What was he doing here at—she checked the clock—6:30 in the morning? He tapped on the glass and motioned for her to open up. A blast of freezing air made her break out in goose bumps when she hefted the frame. “Here.” He handed her a DVD. “I didn’t watch it. Part of my wedding present to you.” “What is it?” Her brain never did kick in until she finished her first double espresso. “A certain night seven months ago. No record of it but that.” Talk about jump-starting neurons. “Who knows about this?” “You. I just forgot it. Later.” Demon whirled around. “Wait.” She grabbed his wrist, and he turned back. “Thank you. Can I ask a silly question?” He rolled his eyes. “Like I have a choice.” “Why the window? Why not the front door?” “Devil installed a security perimeter.” Her future husband was going to drive her insane. “You think his paranoia will calm down?” “He’s simply being thorough. Get used to it. Now can I leave?” “Yes. Thank you, Demon. I’m glad you’re walking me down the aisle.” Even in the shadows, she saw the bright fuchsia color wash across his face. “What hold does Mrs. Chapman have over you?” Now all the color leached from his face. He muttered something and sprinted in the direction of the orchard. Jess smiled when she translated his words, certain

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Demon hadn’t realized he’d spoken in Spanish. For what he’d said was Mrs. Chapman thought he was handsome. As she watched him lope into the orchard, Jess realized that the more she knew Demon, the handsomer he’d become in her eyes. He needed a good woman. She showered and was about to brew her coffee when her cell rang. Devil. “Hi.” For some silly reason, she felt shy. “You showered yet?” Devil sounded out of breath. “Yes. Why?” “Open the bedroom window. I’ll be there in five.” He rang off before she could utter another word. Could neither of them come to the front door? Lordy, she needed the java this morning. Jess brewed a doublestrength mug and sipped gratefully as she ambled to the window, set the cup down, and pushed up the double insulated glass. Devil climbed through not a minute later. He looked so yummy, his short hair mussed, and the gleam in his dark eyes had her nipples hard in a second. She frowned when he threw a wheel of pink ribbon on the bed. “It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.” She looped her arms around his neck and buried her nose in his cold shirt. “What’s the ribbon for?” “Did you know that ribbons can be used for shibari knotting?” What happened after that had her wet and on the verge of coming every time she moved. It took forever for three o’clock to arrive, and every five minutes, she hoped Devil was in the same position. Who knew a cock could be pretty? But his had been by the time she’d finished. Praying the ribbons to her crotch tie didn’t show through the silk fabric of her wedding dress, Jess walked slowly and very, very gingerly down the steps when the gleaming white limousine pulled up in the driveway. After Demon helped her into the limo, her nervous system went haywire. “You look beautiful. He’s going to love you in that dress.”


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No, Devil was going to love her in what she wore under the gown. Jess tried not to grin. “What about my hair? He’s never seen it up.” She patted the complicated, tousled updo. “He’ll love it. You look like a sexy princess. He loves you in pink.” She wore a strapless gown the exact shade of her pink diamond, covered for the church ceremony by a lacy, long-sleeved jacket. That morning, an enormous bouquet of roses had arrived, along with a box containing matching diamond studs and a single pendant on a platinum chain. She touched the studs, fingered the square stone, and noticed the smile on Demon’s face. “What? Is something out of place?” “No. You do realize you’re wearing four GPS? He’s gone loco. All we needed was one.” She beamed. “I should have known. I suppose you were his accomplice in all this?” “Yep. Go easy on him. He’s been pacing since dawn. Worried that he’ll screw up his name.” Jess really, really doubted Devil’d been pacing. Not if the knots worked the way they did on her. “Ready?” Demon opened the door. “We’re here? Already? Are you sure I look okay? No lipstick on my teeth? I don’t normally wear makeup.” She chattered on as he helped her out of the vehicle. “Took you long enough.” Destiny, dressed in an ivory gown, stood at the top of the church steps. “Hurry up. Dominix’s ready to explode.” “I should’ve left my hair down.” “Shush and turn around so I can fix your dress.” Destiny couldn’t bend anymore, so how she intended to fix the dress, Jess couldn’t begin to imagine. She prayed Destiny wouldn’t notice any ribbon lines.

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A few adjustments and then they entered the church. The music started, Demon cupped her elbow, and they began the long walk up the aisle. At the end of the seemingly endless line of pews, Jess spotted Dominix. He looked so handsome for a moment she couldn’t breathe. He wore a gray morning suit, and a… She peered, unable to believe her eyes, and then broke into a loud chuckle. “OMG, he’s wearing a pink shirt.” Demon shook his head. “You mean you didn’t notice mine?” “What?” Jess almost tripped and couldn’t stifle a giggle when she took in the vision of Demon in a pink shirt. “Consider it part of my wedding present to the two of you.” Demon rolled his eyes. The length and slow pacing proved excruciating, delicious torture. The ribbons worked her clit, the braided satin strips both cool and hot spontaneously. She fought to control her response, trying to think of press releases, anything but the sublime sliding sensation that had been driving her insane since early this morning. “Here we are.” They reached Dominix. Their eyes met. The world could’ve stopped spinning, the stars could’ve fallen from the sky, the poles could’ve reversed, and she would never have noticed. Love, like a live electric wire, crackled and jumped and entwined them together. “I love you.” “I love you too,” she whispered. “How’s the pink?” He shot her that wicked smile. “How’s yours?” She beamed at him. “The limo has a privacy partition. We’re going to be using it in ten minutes.” Sinful visions filled her head. “Who gives this woman to this man?” the priest asked.


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Demon nudged her shoulder. Once. Twice. The third time, he turned her forward, breaking their locked gazes. She glanced up at Demon, her vision slightly out of focus. “Consider this another part of your wedding present.” Demon cupped her ear. “My name is—”

Loose Id Titles by Jianne Carlo Valentine Voodoo White Wolf The HADES SQUAD Series A Paratrooper in a Pear Tree Lucifer’s Choice Deviant Devil The MEDITERRANEAN MAMBO Series Manacled in Monaco Notorious in Nice Carnal in Cannes

Jianne Carlo Jianne’s an Iron Chef America and Law and Order addict who loves to cook, eat, read, and write. She wishes a body could burn a ton of calories being sedentary and eating. Don’t you? If only… Married for 34 years to an amazing man who still manages to sneak up on her every single day, she’s also the proud mama of three fantastic sons, all of whom are now of legal age. Now if only they’d stop changing majors in college… Alpha males, strong heroines, exotic locations, and cultural differences are her forte. She’s travelling the world through her books. From Manacled, which is set in Monaco, to D is for Desire, set in Trinidad at Carnival time, to A Paratrooper in a Pear Tree, which is set outside of Denali National Park in Alaska, and Dark Chocolate Side of the Moon, set in Sleeping Dog, Texas. Jianne’s writing career began in 2008, and since then she’s been lucky enough to have fourteen books published. Nothing makes Jianne’s day more than an email from someone who’s read one of her books. Jianne loves to hear what tickles your fancy. So far, she’s received emails from almost every continent on the planet. Almost… Keep up with Jianne’s latest news at http://www.jiannecarlo.com

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