The Darkest Passion

Neanderthal, but he just couldn’t form proper sentences. Olivia was his. Utterly his. His mind was stuck on that fact, and that alone.

When she relaxed, he reclaimed her mouth, playing with her tongue, feeding her kiss after needed kiss, and soon she began writhing against him again, lost to the pleasure. Soon she was dripping, as he’d craved.

Now she was ready.

Though he hated to release her, even for a moment, he did so to grip his cock. The throbbing length practically leapt into his touch, hungry for more, so much more, yet he feared spilling at first contact. Diversion. He bit down on his tongue until he tasted blood, and the boiling need was tempered. Achieved. Tenderly, he pushed Olivia back on the dresser with his free hand, chest to wood, then poised the tip of his erection at her opening.

“Still ready?”

“Now, Aeron. Do it now!”

Inch by inch, he drove it inside her, allowing her to grow accustomed to his size before giving her more. All the while she gasped and moaned and beseeched him. Wrath, too. Finally, he was in to the hilt, his eyes fogging over with the force of his need to pound and pound and never stop.

“Aeron,” she groaned, and he knew it was another plea.

He pulled out, almost all the way, before sinking back in. A curse rushed from him—she had arched her hips to meet him, and rational thought fled, something inside him breaking. A tether of some sort. A tether on his restraint.

Just like that, he lost himself. Lost control, lost who he was, lost everything but the need to fill this woman with all that he was. In and out he pounded inside her, just as he’d wanted. Determined, driven, possessed by far more than a demon.

He was gripping her hips, probably bruising her, surely crushing her bones, but he couldn’t stop himself. He was wild, feral, existing for only this moment. This woman. Just then, she was his everything. She was as much a part of him as Wrath. He couldn’t live without her. Wouldn’t live without her.

“Aeron.” She was no longer panting; she was shouting. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t you dare stop. More. More!”

In his mind, only one word echoed. Mine. Mine, mine, mine. He’d heard it a thousand times before, but then he was shouting, “Mine, mine, mine,” and the sound was filling his ears, sweeping through him, heating him another degree, branding him, destroying who he’d been, what he’d been, then building him back up, into something new and fine and right, into the man he’d always been meant to be. Her man. And that’s when mine faded and another word took its place, stronger, far more necessary. Yours. He wanted to belong to her, to be hers. To be everything she’d ever dreamed, to fulfill every wish she’d ever made.

“Aeron,” she gasped.

Yours.

He should have seen this coming, should have known what she was beginning to mean to him, but his resistance had blinded him. Now, reduced to his basest self, he was raw, vulnerable, operating on a visceral level.

She was his, and he was hers.

He kicked her legs farther apart, and she fell down a little, deeper into his thrusts. The gap from the dresser allowed him to reach around and stroke her where she needed. With a scream, she erupted, and as those lush inner walls gripped him, Aeron hurtled over the edge himself, hot seed jetting inside her.

“Aeron,” she cried.

Yours.

He collapsed on her, panting, and realized there was a flaw to his “only once” plan. Once would never be enough. Not for him, and not for his demon.

They needed more; they couldn’t possibly be satisfied until they’d taken her in every way imaginable. And they could. He could. Without fear. He’d lost control, but Wrath hadn’t attacked her. He’d lost control, but he hadn’t hurt her.

She’d been irresistible before, but now… He needed to be with her or his life would not be complete. He needed to make love to her every night and wake up to her every morning—to make love to her again. He needed to pamper her and give her the things she craved. Like fun. Like joy. Like passion.

Like him.

“Olivia,” he said, the syllables broken but still a promise from him, a promise for all the “more” she desired. Forever?

What are you doing? What are you thinking? You can’t do this. His sweat-slicked chest pressed into her back, and he forced himself to rise.

Wrath whimpered.

“Aeron,” she said. Then, “Aeron!”

No, that last shout hadn’t belonged to Olivia. He twisted, as did his angel, and they stiffened at the same time. William and a pretty blonde—Legion, he reminded himself, surprised all over again by the change in her— stood in the open doorway.

Aeron forced his wings out of hiding and wrapped them around Olivia, shielding her from view. Meanwhile, William held the humanoid demon back, but strong as he was, she was dragging him forward, her murderous gaze locked on the angel.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

OLIVIA COULDN’T BELIEVE what had just happened with Aeron—and what was happening now with Legion. Naked. Sex. Pleasure. Happiness. Hope.

All dashed.

Trembling, she bent down to retrieve her robe and wrenched the material over her head. Thankfully, Aeron’s wings kept her concealed the entire time. How she would have loved to bask in the afterglow. To discover if Aeron had been as affected as she was.

Sex was…so much more than she ever could have imagined—and she’d imagined a lot, since the first orgasm he’d given her. The pleasure, the satisfaction, the power of knowing you were driving someone out of their mind. The closeness, the sharing, the giving, the taking. Every minute was a miracle.

She’d been alive for centuries. Why hadn’t she been doing this all that time? Although, she suspected the act would not be the same with any other man. Only Aeron. Her Aeron. The man who made her ache…dream.

Legion’s high-pitched screeches drew her back to the present. “Bitch! Whore! I’ll kill you!”

Temptation laughed inside Olivia’s head. He’d been silent during the act, having gotten what he’d wanted. Why had he returned?

William still had a grip on Legion, but that grip could fail at any moment. Olivia kind of hoped it did. Someone needed to put Legion in her place, and she would be more than happy to do so. She wanted her afterglow, damn it!

“Dress,” Olivia told Aeron, hating that another woman—especially this one—was seeing him like this. All those tattoos should be hers, and hers alone, to feast upon. Visually or otherwise. She wished she could have licked them.

Next time.

Would there be a next time?

His expression was hard, unreadable, as he tugged on his pants and fastened them at the waist. Because his wings were still expanded, he couldn’t don a shirt. At least dressing spurred him into action. He kicked forward, wrapped an arm around Legion’s waist and hefted her into his side like a sack of potatoes.

The demon’s flailing never ceased. “Let me go! Let me at her!”

“You can go,” Aeron told William. “I’ll handle things from here.”

There were cuts on William’s face and arms, and all of them were bleeding. The warrior nodded, his lips