Demon from the Dark

flooded her body with power, shocking him like an electric fence.

'Carrow!' he bellowed, forced to release her.

Yet she'd barely taken two steps before he swooped her up again.

'You must like pain. However, I—do—not.' She shocked him again with even more juice. 'Wish I could see the look on your face. ...' She realized he was simply taking it, refusing to release her, so she turned up the volume to high. His forehead fell against her shoulder as he quaked with pain, but he wouldn't let her go.

Soon she was defeated, left without power, and still he was standing. The next time I set out to hurt him, I'm going full guns, she vowed. She would put him down.

He turned her in his arms until they were facing each other, their chests pressed tightly together, his forearm under her ass.

'Let me go now!' she all but screamed.

After a hesitation, he let her body slowly slide down his.

The contact of their slippery skin, the gradual descent, the sound of their breaths...

Against her will, she felt a spike of desire. And she knew he could tell. He inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring. Then he hissed out a ragged breath, as if the scent of her were too much to resist. His penis pulsed between them.

When her nipples dragged down his chest, one rubbed directly over his piercing. He shuddered anew. By the time he set her on her feet, he was subtly rocking his hips.

With his jaw clenched until the muscles bulged at the sides, he squeezed his eyes shut—just as hers went wide.

'Oh, my gods! You're about to come?' Earlier, as she'd all but given him a hand job, he hadn't been able to stay erect. Now he was about to blow? 'I don't get you, demon. Ugh! Just let me go.'

His shaking palms covering her shoulders, he set her away. Appearing to gain a modicum of control, he released her and opened his eyes. Whatever he saw in her expression made his gaze dip to her wrist, then to her bite mark.

He parted his lips to speak, then closed them, eyes darting as he so clearly wanted to communicate with her. To explain why he'd hurt her—again?

She was done 'listening.' Carrow didn't like dirty guys, and she didn't like damaged ones either. She turned and walked away.

With agitated movements, his female donned one of the large shirts from a pack, then stormed away.

Alone. Once more. Malkom punched the wall to keep from yelling with frustration. Am I destined to be solitary?

What he wouldn't give to be able to speak to her. He wanted to tell her that he was willing to relearn her language and go without sex or biting for now. He was even considering giving up his revenge.

All this he would do for her, but he needed her to give him new memories to drown out the old....

So many things about this night had reminded Malkom of his past—the water, the scent of the soap, her palm closing over him from behind. Her touch was gentle, completely different from what he'd experienced. Yet even the way she'd steered him had called the master to mind.

Malkom clasped his forehead, grappling to pull his thoughts from the past, realizing that he needed to be in control of what happened between him and his female. He wanted to guide her.

Which was a problem, since he didn't know how.

If only he could have more time with her, a few hours to learn her form, he could get them back to where they'd been just before he'd lost control. And then this night could be what he remembered whenever he thought of sex in the future.

He stalked after her, readying to touch her tender skin.

'Tis not the end.

As she hastened away, she refused to think about that lost look on the demon's face. Refused to think about it—at all.

Some inner torment had just been dredged up. Considering that he'd been a slave, she could imagine the nature of the torment. Especially when taken with his reaction to her unwitting touches.

Carrow truly felt bad for him, but she had to protect herself. Luckily, she was resolved. So why am I glancing back?

She'd only get more of the same if she returned. To be bitten and battered? Just hours ago, her sternum had felt like the landing site of a wrecking ball. And yes, he'd shoved her to protect her, but it was yet another example of how little control he had.

Totally out of control. Like if he were a dog, he'd be the angry-eyed mongrel at the pound, the one that was sure to attack. So why did she have the urge to claim him?

Such a wild, lost male. Another glance back, this time with some lip nibbling. Eyes forward, slore.

Damn it, she was still woefully aroused. It'd been weeks since she'd had an orgasm. As she strode down the mine with no bra on, her aching breasts bounced, her nipples hypersensitive. Each step was agony to her still- throbbing sex.

Strangely, her hurting wrist was nearly forgotten—

Without warning, he seized her, tucking her under his arm against his hip, and headed back for the pool.

'Drop me, demon! Now!'

Instead, he carted her right back into the water, setting her on her feet beneath one of the cascades. As she sputtered, he ripped free the T-shirt she wore.

'This is your bright idea?' Surprisingly unafraid of him, she struck his chest with the bottom of one fist. 'Way to get back in my good graces, asshole!'

Without even acknowledging her useless hits, he patiently held up his finger. His eyes were flickering back to the steady blue.

'One moment? Forget it, don't wanna stay.' At his unbending look, she said, 'Listen, I'm sorry for whatever happened to you, because evidently, damage was done. But I'm not your spank moppet or whipping girl, or anything like that—' She squinted at his hand. 'Um, where are your claws?' He'd bitten them away. How thoroughly was he planning on touching her?

He bent to drag down her thong.

Carrow's rebellion? Chin raised, she said, 'I'm not stepping out of it.'

Not a problem for Slaine; he briefly lifted her and removed it, tossing it by her bra.

Then he took one of the cloths, lathering it with the soap, his mien resolute.

'I-I haven't said yes to any—'

He pressed the cloth to her chest, softly rubbing her with easy strokes. Despite herself she was intrigued by this unexpected side of him. Amazingly, she found herself relaxing.

With one hand, he unhurriedly scrubbed. With his other he covered one shoulder, his palm warm over her skin. So lightly, he pressed his thumb against her muscle there, massaging.

When she moaned, he must have taken this as a sign of her surrender, because masculine satisfaction surged through him—fueling her power once more.

The cloth was momentarily forgotten as he used the backs of his fingers to skim her cheek, her jawline, then the length of her neck and lower.

With decisive action, he'd hunted, he'd warred, and he'd protected her. Now he was tentative as he traced the lines of her shoulders, his eyes following his every movement. No man had ever looked at her as he did—like she was the best thing in the world.

He caressed the pads of his fingers over her collarbone so tenderly that she was staggered by his gentleness. Such a killer, such a warrior, yet look at what he was capable of.