Fangs and Fists, page 10
“Good news, I hope,” Zari said, glancing toward his letter.
Grit nodded. “At the time they wrote this, they’re doing well.”
Zari stepped closer to him, holding his gaze. It was strange, how comforting that was.
“You’ll see your son again,” she said.
“One day. With luck.”
“Grit, we’re going to win this war.”
He caressed her cheek and smiled slightly. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Standing by me. Always. Even back at the tower, you risked yourself to free us.”
“We’re all at risk, but it will be worth it to drive those demons back to wherever they came from.”
She spoke the truth. No one knew exactly where the demons had dwelled before taking over the Earth. Whether they lived deep underground or somehow used their magic and technology to travel from a different world was uncertain.
“Let’s get some sleep while we can,” Zari suggested, touching Grit’s arm.
Again he smiled. “Sleep?”
“Eventually.” She grinned, taking his hand.
They stepped into her room and no sooner had Grit closed the door than Zari pressed him against it and kissed him.
Closing his eyes, he slid his arms around her and parted his lips so that his tongue met hers. As soon as their mouths met, his busy thoughts vanished, replaced only by the sensations she roused.
He slid his arms down her back and cupped her taut bottom. She had an athletic build -- lean with well-toned muscles. Zari was all soldier and all woman.
Her small, firm breasts pressed enticingly against his chest.
A memory flashed through his mind. It was of Zari in the tower. The first time they’d met, he’d admired her looks. They couldn’t have each other then. He had a mate and a cub. Being a loyal wolf, he wouldn’t have cheated on Kiara. If he’d only known that she felt the same way -- that they both were merely making the best of their imprisonment. Kiara was a lovely woman and a good friend, but when he remembered her, it wasn’t with the same rush of passion that he felt for Zari.
Grit pulled Zari even closer. He broke their kiss so that he could nuzzle her neck.
She chuckled and squirmed in his embrace. “That tickles.”
He nuzzled her more before sweeping her into his arms and carrying her to the bed while gazing into her beautiful, dark eyes.
Once he’d placed her on the bed, he unfastened her pants and tugged them off. Beneath, she wore black boy shorts. He took a moment to stare at her long, smooth legs before shedding his clothes. While he did that, she pulled off her shirt and removed her bra. Then she lay on her back, bare-breasted and with a hungry look on her face that made his growing cock swell even more.
Grit climbed onto the bed and knelt between her legs. He lifted one and closed his eyes while covering her inner thigh with gentle kisses. He licked and kissed his way to her knee and down her calf to her ankle.
“That feels so good,” she murmured, moaning softly, her eyes half-closed.
“Yes, it does,” he said in a husky voice and followed the same pattern on her other leg.
He raised both her legs higher until her feet rested over his shoulders. Then he leaned down and covered her clit with his mouth. He kissed and licked it, dampening her underpants and teasing her through the wet fabric.
“Oh, Grit,” she said, a bit breathless.
After teasing her for several moments, he used his claws to slash off her underpants without so much as scratching her skin.
“You’re going to cost me a fortune in shorts,” she said with a grin.
“Sorry.”
Again he covered her clit with his mouth. His tongue swept directly over the tender, swollen nub.
Her underwear apparently forgotten, she moaned again and reached down to grasp handfuls of his hair.
Grit used the tip of his tongue to trail along the sides of her clit, and then he lapped it with upward strokes that soon had her quivering on the verge of orgasm. He gently sucked the stiff nub and she came, arching and thrusting against his mouth. Grasping her buttocks, he held her steady while he continued licking and sucking. Her first orgasm waned, but he didn’t stop tasting and teasing. As she neared a second climax, he slid up her body and thrust into her soaked, throbbing pussy. It felt so good around his hard cock.
Grasping the headboard, Grit thrust over and over.
“Don’t stop, Grit.” She panted, wrapping her legs around him tightly while at the same time caressing his shoulders and chest. “Oh, yes. Oh, Grit!”
She came again and this time he joined her, his hips jerking and his heart pounding. It felt so fucking good. He’d never imagined feeling like this -- at least not since his resurrection. Making love with Zari was an unexpected pleasure in so many ways.
His body half-draped over hers, they rested for several moments. Zari caressed his hair. Grit relaxed completely and drifted to sleep.
Chapter Four
Free Will
Haylen’s workroom was one of the few places in the tower where the most powerful demons couldn’t spy, even from the gazing room. Similarly, Haylen was among the few demons whose minds they couldn’t invade. That was both lucky and unlucky. Because of this power, he had been fitted with a tracking device. Brutally embedded in his spine by a procedure both magical and medical and during which he had been fully awake, it allowed his masters to know his whereabouts. There was always a chance that even a demon of his level might try to escape. In their minds, they had enhanced his natural power and for this, he belonged to them, body and soul.
He had accepted his demonic ties long ago, but regardless of how his masters believed they should be privy to every aspect of his life, Haylen kept certain secrets.
In this area of his workroom -- the freezer -- hundreds of the demons’ victims remained in stasis for Haylen to revive at will. Some were dead at the time of freezing, but a few were on the verge of death, like Grit had been.
Haylen approached the transparent coffins that held the most recent additions to his collection -- two gladiators called Knox and Glacier. The former had died in a punishment chamber and the latter in the arena. Glacier had been defeated by the same gladiator who had beaten Grit. After rebelling so long against killing his own kind, Victor had finally given in. Haylen guessed he would be sending many more opponents to the refrigeration unit, but that wasn’t Haylen’s concern. Hopefully he would be long gone by then.
His conversation with Adrian had been meant to lull him into a sense of security, that if he did his masters’ bidding, he might be spared torture and death. That was a lie. They were playing with him. Demons, like cats, enjoyed toying with their food before devouring it.
Haylen was a demon, but he had never taken pleasure in those games. Until his connection to Grit, he hadn’t enjoyed anything. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he recalled pleasure, but that was long ago and in a different life. As he’d perfected the art of resurrection, he had lost his ability to feel -- or so he’d thought.
Grit had sparked his interest and his memories. The former gladiator’s affection for his cub, in particular, touched a part of Haylen that he hadn’t known existed. Somehow, he associated with Grit’s feelings as a father and he doubted it was because of all the corpses he’d revived over the centuries. They weren’t his children, but perhaps once…
He couldn’t focus on that now. There was too much to do before he left.
For a long moment he gazed at Glacier through the clear coffin. His wounds from his final fight in the arena had been tended. Like Grit, Glacier had been defeated by a severe throat wound. Victor killed swiftly, like a wolf on the hunt. He didn’t toy with his victims or inflict prolonged suffering in their final moments. Such a compassionate killing style would soon annoy the masters and lead to punishment, but that was Victor’s problem, not Haylen’s.
Glacier’s throat, like his other wounds, had been sewn back together with magically-treated metal stitches. In addition to mending injuries, Glacier had been given enhancements to make him an even more perfect and terrifying weapon after Haylen resurrected him. His wolfish fangs hadn’t yet receded when he’d died and they were now tipped with metal. A permanent metal plate had replaced the skin on his chest to protect his heart -- once it started beating again.
Haylen swept his hand over the controls on the side of the coffin. It opened slowly and Haylen drew a deep breath. Like Grit’s, Glacier’s resurrection was different than others he’d performed over the centuries. He wasn’t dead. He had been mended by demons, preserved in the coffin and now he would walk again, but more important, unlike those brought back from the dead, he would remember… eventually.
Haylen rested a hand on Glacier’s muscular shoulder. Touch was necessary for resurrection -- it had always been that way. A brief touch wakened the dead, but those on the verge of death took longer. Haylen’s magic wasn’t merely reanimating a corpse -- it was fighting the death of a living creature and required more energy. This wasn’t resurrection, but healing. He wasn’t manipulating a corpse, but bestowing a gift. He wasn’t quite sure how he knew the difference, but somehow he did.
Closing his eyes, Haylen concentrated on Glacier. His heart changed rhythm to keep time with Glacier’s -- slow at first, then faster, stronger. His lungs expanded, his breathing synchronized with Glacier’s. When he’d felt these things with Grit, Haylen had been apprehensive and a bit frightened. This time, he was prepared for it and even welcomed it.
As Glacier returned fully to life, their breath and heartbeats separated again. Weakness washed over Haylen and he steadied himself against the coffin. He gazed down at Glacier, who still slept.
I have one more gift for you, Haylen thought, using his thumb to caress Glacier’s forehead. Someone will need to take over when I’m gone and few motives are more deserving than revenge.
He continued stroking Glacier while chanting softly. He’d given the gladiator part of his life, now he passed on his power as well. In time, Glacier would share Haylen’s ability to raise the dead.
* * *
Grit was dreaming of the forest when he felt his demon master’s presence.
The trees and even the earth beneath his feet disappeared. He was in the same darkness in which he’d always heard the demon. Since escaping the tower, he’d been able to push him away and rouse himself before the monster could invade his mind. Instinct told him to rebel now, but he recalled the Alpha’s request.
“It’s been a while, Grit.”
Strange. The demon had never called him by name before.
“You know who you are,” the demon continued. “Your mind is no longer empty.”
Better not to engage in conversation. If he acted like one of the soulless, the demon might reconsider his suspicion that Grit had reclaimed himself. Yet if the beast could enter his mind, he already knew.
“I’m ready for orders,” Grit said.
“Orders. Yes. We all have orders, don’t we?”
Was it possible the demon was under someone else’s control? Grit wanted to ask, but refrained.
“Where are you, Grit?”
How he’d managed to prevent the demon from discovering his whereabouts, Grit wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he couldn’t think about his location. He couldn’t think about anything that would give a clue to…
“What’s your name?” Grit asked. Engage the demon. Turn his focus away from Grit.
Grit could sense the demon was taken aback.
“That’s right, you don’t tell us who you are,” Grit continued. “I’m not supposed to know or care.”
“But you do and that’s not your fault. Curiosity is natural.”
“Then tell me your name.”
This was completely new to the demon. Grit sensed he was both annoyed and intrigued.
After a moment, he replied, “Haylen. My name is Haylen.”
The darkness faded to dim light and Grit was in the forest again, but this time he wasn’t alone. Nearby stood a tall, slim man with skin the color of new snow and eyes like aquamarines. Fine-lined red tattoos decorated his smooth scalp and a portion of his neck that disappeared beneath the collar of his black leather shirt. Matching pants and boots covered his feet and legs.
The forest shook and then Grit was awake, his heart pounding. Zari leaned over him, looking concerned.
“Are you all right?” she asked. “That must have been some dream. You were mumbling, tossing and turning.”
“I saw him. Haylen.”
Her brow furrowed. “Who’s Haylen?”
“The demon who resurrected me. We were talking just now. He told me his name and I saw him in the dream. That’s never happened before.”
Zari caressed his chest, her touch comforting. “Maybe it was just a real dream, then.”
“No. I know the difference. It’s strange, but I think he’s as curious about me as we are about him.”
“Then maybe you can use that to our advantage. Damn it!” She sat back on her heels and slammed her fist into her palm. Her eyes flashed and the tips of her fangs gleamed as she snarled.
“What’s wrong?”
“You were talking to him and I had to go and wake you. Sorry about that.”
“Don’t worry about it. How were you to know what was going on? I’d have woken you, too, if I thought you were having a bad dream.”
“Do you think you can get him back again, if you fall asleep right now?”
He chuckled. “Honey, I don’t think I could fall asleep right now. Not after that.”
“You have a name now, at least. Maybe Maddy can use it to find out more about the demon.”
“I hope so. What time is it?”
“Seven in the morning.” Zari sighed. “We should probably get up anyway.”
“I suppose.” Grit smiled slightly and reached out to caress her hair. It was disheveled from sleep, but she looked so fucking sexy that he wanted her then and there.
He reached down with his other hand to adjust his growing erection beneath the sheets.
Zari smiled and caressed the bulge. He growled softly and pushed her onto her back. Nuzzling her neck, he inhaled her scent. She was so warm and enticing.
He slid a hand beneath the sheets and into her panties to caress her soft mound. Circling her passage with his fingertip, he found her wet and quivering, so he eased two fingers into her slick cunt. Apparently she was as aroused as he was.
“We have time for a quickie before breakfast,” he said in her ear.
“Hell yeah,” she replied breathlessly and locked her arms and legs around him while she gently nibbled his earlobe with her fangs and slid her tongue around the shell of his ear. A passionate shiver tore through him and he kissed her neck while tugging up her nightshirt. He pulled it over her head and tossed it aside.
Zari’s bare feet caressed his legs and she moaned.
His heartbeat quickening, Grit kissed and fondled her bare breasts. He laved her nipple and sucked it, drawing little mewling sounds from her that aroused him even more.
Grit continued kissing his way down her stomach until he reached her clit. Sliding his hands beneath her ass, he covered her soft, sensitive nub with his mouth. He licked and sucked while kneading her bottom. It didn’t take long for her to climax.
He lay beside her and she curled toward him. His cock eased into her. It felt so good to be bathed in her liquids and caressed by her tight, soft flesh.
Zari’s dark gaze met his and she smiled. He smiled back and kissed her. Their bodies undulated, creating perfect friction, while they continued kissing and caressing each other. He stroked her smooth back and caressed the curve of her hip.
Her soft lips and eager tongue teased his. The gentle sweep of her hand over his shoulders and across his back relaxed yet aroused him.
This time when she came, he joined her. The urge to howl almost overcame him, but he somehow managed to control it. One day he hoped they would make love in the woods, where they wouldn’t have to care about anyone hearing or judging. They would do it like wolves -- completely free and --
“I love you, Grit,” she murmured as her orgasm waned and she lay with her arms resting limply around him, their legs entwined.
“You’ve made me a wolf again,” he told her. He lifted his head and gazed into her eyes. “I didn’t think that would ever happen.”
Zari smiled and caressed his cheek. “You are a wolf. Now, your beastliness, get off me. We have to get up.”
Groaning, he fell onto his back. Then he smiled. She was right. They had work to do, a rebellion to win and he still had a son out there somewhere. Until they were free from demons, Jett’s whereabouts would be a secret and there were two things Grit wanted in his life -- Zari and his cub.
While he wouldn’t take Jett from the loving home he had with Kiara and Bolt, he wanted the boy to know him, but not as one of the soulless.
“We have to defeat them,” Grit said, his smile fading.
Zari, who had stood and pulled on her robe, turned to him as she tied up her hair. “We will. I know it.”
“Is predicting the future another vampiric power?”
“No. It’s called the power of optimism. Now let’s get washed and go to the kitchen so we can ask if Maddy knows anything about Haylen.”
* * *
One of the few things for which Haylen was grateful was the privacy of his own thoughts. The tracking device appalled him, but it reflected his masters’ weakness, not his.
In his own mind, he was free to mock, to hate, to desire and best of all to plan without the greedy, calculating masters observing his innermost thoughts.
One thing both heaven and hell had in common was that anyone with free will was a danger to both.
He’d just returned from another meeting with Adrian, during which he’d explained his plan to use Grit to capture a group of rebels. The masters could then use the rebels as examples to dissuade the general population from revolting against the demons. At the same time, Haylen would destroy Grit, thereby correcting “his” mistake.
