The Darkest Pleasure

He wanted her this time, it seemed, but she hadn't hurt him. He'd said such a thing was impossible. What did that mean?

'You don't need a man pawing you right now.' One step, two, he backed away.

She flattened her palms against her thighs, nails digging deep. 'You weren't pawing me.'

'But I wanted to.'

Would she have cared? Surprisingly, she didn't think so. He'd given her hope, hated hope, but she was grateful. Or had his demon overtaken her mind again?

Reaching out, he smoothed several strands of hair from her brow. His arm shook. 'Rest, angel. Tomorrow we travel, and we will have to move quickly and remain in the shadows.'

Because of the Hunters, she silently finished for him. The people she should have been helping. Feeling hollow, she nodded.

'If you change your mind about painting, the supplies are through that door.' He pointed.

She sighed, watching as he turned on his booted heels and strode from the room. There was a knife in his hand.

WHEN REYES REACHED the bathroom in the empty bedroom across the hall, he collapsed onto the cold, hard floor. He'd done his best to keep his beast hidden from Danika. He hadn't wanted her to know how close he'd been to ripping off her clothing and stabbing himself over and over again while he pounded into her soft body—how close he'd been to begging her to stab him.

He was surprised by the depths of his desire for her. She hadn't hurt him, yet he'd been ready, eager. A first, and too shocking to believe.

He needed to contact Lucien and tell him about the other demons, the other possessed warriors. He needed to find Torin and have the warrior start tracking Danika's mother, sister and possibly her grandmother. But not like this. Reyes was too on edge, the demon too loud inside his head, clamoring for pain. The need hadn't been this wild in weeks, so it had taken him by surprise. How he'd maintained his control, how he'd kept from hurting Danika, he didn't know. Why it had happened, he didn't know, either.

With a shaky hand, he tore at the waist of his pants. His nails were claws and cut the skin, skin on fire and too tight for his bones. He was smiling as his cock jumped free, but there was no relief. He ached, oh, gods, he ached from the pleasure of Danika's scent, her lovely eyes feasting on him, her lips pressing against his.

His fingers wrapped around the thick base of his shaft, so taut his knuckles instantly blanched, and he hissed in a breath. Not my hand, he pretended, but Danika's. Yes, he could easily imagine her soft, sweet hand holding him, squeezing him to this razor edge of pleasure-pain.

Reyes moaned, holding himself all the tighter as he pumped up, then down. With his other hand, he clutched the knife he'd already palmed and pressed the cold tip against his thigh. Do it. Cut. On an upward glide, he sank the blade hard, so hard. The skin broke and blood trickled. On a downward slide, he dug the tip deeper, nicking a vein.

Not enough. Not nearly enough.

There were sharp grooves on the hilt, and those grooves bit at his hand, drawing even more blood. Self- loathing rose inside him as he slicked the knife's apex through muscle, not stopping until he hit the bone.

Why can I not be normal? Why can I not take a beautiful woman with the gentleness she deserves?

He twisted his wrist, digging a hole into his femur. His head fell back and he roared at the exquisite headiness, pleasure zooming from one corner of his body to the other, a drug, a demon all its own.

Just a little more.

Up and down he continued to pump, the path slick because of his blood. His hips writhed as he continued to twist the knife. There was another sharp lance of pain, another sultry wave of pleasure.

What if he had no need for pain? What if Danika were here, sucking him deep into her mouth?

'Yes, yes,' he chanted. Her sunshine hair would spill over his legs; perhaps he would see the pink tip of her tongue laving the thick head of his penis. He might feel the light scrape of her teeth every time she descended, taking him to the back of her throat.

Would she like the taste of him?

Maybe she would take him in her mouth while he licked and sucked her. Another moan escaped him. She would be wet, wet for him and him alone. Her taste would be like the ambrosia he blended into his wine.

She would drip with desire. For me, only me.

For us, the demon snapped, raging inside his mind.

Reyes clenched his teeth. For me. Never us. You are the reason I cannot have her.

I didn't open the box, now did I?

Reyes gave the knife yet another twist, and the tip sliced the bone in two, driving straight into another muscle. At the moment of penetration, a climax ripped through him. He roared loud and long, his muscles contracting, hot seed jetting from him and blending with his blood. Both scalded his skin, like battery acid on silk.

Only when the last surge ended did he lose his last bit of strength and sag, completely depleted. His arms fell to his sides, lifeless. He was panting, could taste metal in his mouth. During orgasm, he'd bitten the inside of his cheek.

Can't stay here. Have to clean up before someone finds me. Slowly his eyelids cracked open, golden light seeping into his consciousness. He needed to find Torin and—His thoughts skidded to a sickened halt.

Danika stood in the bathroom's doorway, staring down at him in horror.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

DANIKA DIDN'T KNOW HOW to assimilate what she'd just witnessed. That was what Reyes needed to experience pleasure? Before, part of her had thought she could maybe give him what he craved. But he hadn't just cut skin. He'd cut veins, muscle and even bone. There was so much blood, a seemingly never-ending river pooling and congealing around him.

Now he was looking at her through hooded eyes, lips grim, a crimson splatter on his chin. 'What are you doing here?' Cold, no emotion.

'I fo-followed you,' she managed to get out. 'I—I—' She was shaking so badly, and her throat kept trying to close around a surge of bile.

Had other women hurt him like this? Pleasured him like that? The thought disturbed her, but not as it should have. She didn't like the thought of other women meeting his needs. She didn't like the thought of other women doing something to him that she had not done—or perhaps could not do.

Reyes lumbered to his feet, swayed. His thigh gushed. She thought she saw the severed bone underneath the muscle and couldn't glance away. Her gaze was held captive and tracked every drop that spilled. His penis rose proudly, still thick and full, smeared with desire and blood, the heavy weight of his testicles drawn tight underneath.

Even possessed as he was by the demon of Pain, she didn't understand how he could find release in so brutal a deed.

'Look at me,' he barked.

'I am.' A broken whisper.

'At my face.' He jerked up his pants and fastened them.

The action released her from the trancelike state. Gradually she dragged her gaze up his body. His navel was surrounded by the faintest dusting of hair—how had she missed it before?—and his stomach was roped with hard lines of muscle, a testament to his inhuman strength.

Her tremors increased the closer she got to his face. A shadow beard dusted his jaw, hardening the angles of his face, making him appear all the more dangerous.