P.C. Cast - Mysteria Nights

“Hell’s bells, so will I.” Grinning eagerly, he swept her off her feet and carried her swiftly to the bedchamber in her house.

Together they fell onto the bed. Harmony laughed, exhilarated; being with Damon was like riding a roller coaster, and now it was perched precariously on the highest hill.

Damon’s weight pressed her deep into the mattress. It felt delicious. He was delicious! Her hands slid everywhere, his muscled back, his abs, the thickly muscled arms. That amazing body, she had it all to herself—and everything else that came with it. Yes, everything else, and God forgive her for going after it so greedily.

“Kiss me,” she told Damon, her fingers curling in the damp fabric of his shirt. She dragged him down to her mouth and kissed him, hard and deep. Dark, sweet heat. Slick and wet. The rasp of his whiskers as she explored with her tongue. He was the best thing she’d ever tasted, and she was hungry for more.

A deep sound rumbled in his chest in reaction to her eagerness. Shyness hadn’t entered her mind, only that she’d wanted him like this for so many weeks.

A beautiful man. A beautiful soul .

But he was a demon! Satan’s helper.

He’s starting over. A new life. He’s clean, real clean, remember?

As for his kiss? Hoo boy, it burned so hot it made Hell look cold. She’d gladly pay penance for that decidedly unholy thought—but tomorrow. Not now.

“Mmm,” she murmured as they kissed. “Mmm.” Smiling, she tore through the buttons on his shirt.

The scrape of Damon’s teeth on the side of her throat made her shiver as he fumbled with the waistband of her skirt. His hand slid up her inner thigh, and she could feel him tremble. When he touched her between her legs, the spasm of pleasure was so intense that her body gave an involuntary little jerk. If that was what his fingers could do, then she could only imagine—

“Too many clothes on ye, lass.” Her panties came off next, and the rest of their clothes went every which way.

Damon flipped her over, kissed her behind her knees and made her giggle. “’Tis my first time, ye know,” he told her as he trailed kisses up her spine, pausing to lick a sensitive little place between her shoulder blades that she never knew existed.

“First time what?” she gasped, delighted with his creativity with all the places he found to touch with his tongue and his lips.

“My first time making love.”

Harmony rolled over to stare at him. Sometimes lip reading helped with communication, especially when the messages were garbled. “You’re not a virgin.”

“Aye, I am.”

“Listen, if this is something you’ve come up with to make up for the whole demon thing—”

“Hush.” He pressed a finger to her lips. “’Tis the truth. Ye are my first.” He didn’t seem bothered by the fact in the least, nor hindered by any lack of confidence, she thought, as he pulled one bra strap down, then the other, lowering the lace until he found her nipples, lavishing each with attention as if they were made of the finest, most delectable chocolate. “No need to worry, lass. I know exactly what to do.”

She tipped her head back to the pillow and moaned. “I can’t argue that, baby.” Her sexy Scottish hunk was a virgin! She nearly whooped with delight. “You don’t act like it’s your first time.”

“I’ve experienced little, aye, but have seen much,” he murmured as he concentrated on pleasuring her. “Pagan lovers mating inside stone circles on Midsummer Eves . . . Viking wedding nights, the harems of Arabia . . . Roman orgies.”

Pagan mating rituals? Harems? Roman orgies? “Damon, honey, I don’t know if we’re on the same page.”

“I know the difference, love, between what I saw and this. Trust me. My instincts are good.” His arms bulged with muscles as he did a push-up over her, dipping his head to kiss her neck. Then he flipped her over and bit her on the butt. She squealed, and he laughed, soothing where he’d nipped her with kisses, then tossing her over again only to enter her, thickly, deeply. Her breath caught as her back arched, and she made a little gasp of surprise. Damon’s expression shifted from astonishment to tenderness to hunger; his eyelids fell half-closed, and the softest groan of pleasure slipped out after he breathed her name. Although she could feel the intensity of Damon’s emotions pressing on her mind, all she needed to know was right here, written on his face, everything he felt being with her, out in the open.

Her belly squeezed as he pushed slowly deeper, filling her, stretching her. She was glad he was going slow. It had been a long time for her, and she hadn’t expected he’d take her this quickly. But maybe foreplay wasn’t as popular in ancient times as it was now. Then again, she hadn’t been waiting ten thousand years to “do it.” Only since college, which had sometimes felt as long.

Yet, her body was ready for him—whoa, more than ready. The mere weight of his body pressing her into the mattress had her panting in anticipation.

“Ye are my first,” he squeezed out in a harsh breath. “My first, aye, my only, and my last.” Clutching her hips possessively, he pushed all the way home, sending shockwaves clear down to her toes.

He moved slowly, at first, not hesitant but most definitely reined in. She drew her knees higher on his hips, squeezing him with her thighs, to hold him there, to hold him close. Gradually, he gained confidence with her moans of delight. And when he finally found his rhythm, it was all she could do to hold on and ride the storm.

Just when she thought it couldn’t get any better, he rolled onto his back, pulling her with him, somehow remaining deep inside her.

She straddled him, astonished, her hair tumbling over his chest. But he moved her backward so his hand could slip between their bodies. And watched her, as she’d watched his reactions earlier, his fingers dipping between her legs where she was so wet, teasing, circling, as he thrust faster and deeper. Her head fell back. “Damon . . .”

Tremors fluttered in her stomach, sharpening, hot, so hot. The quivering built to an ache that swelled until it was almost unbearable. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. Heaven help her, she never knew it could be like this. Never knew it could be this good.

Damon touched her again, and her climax took her; she cried out, grabbing the bedsheets, as if to keep herself from flying away.

In the midst of it all, Damon went rigid and gasped her name. It seemed to go on for a long time for him, his release, powerful and intense. Then, as he collapsed in a panting heap on the mattress, he reached blindly for her and pulled her close.

Sweat dampened his skin, and hers. Exhausted, she kissed him, tasting salt, inhaling his scent.

“Ah, Harmony, love.” His deep voice vibrated in his chest, his breath hot against her ear. “Ah, my sweet angel.”

She came up on her elbow and smiled at his stunned expression. “Happy?”

“Aye . . .”

“So, it was everything you hoped it’d be?”

He let out an amazed chuckle. “If this is what it feels like to be human, lass, then I’ve but one thing to say.”

She grinned, trailing her fingertips over his lips. “What’s that?” “Immortality is highly overrated.”

Much later, they lay abed, dozing, limbs tangled after making love yet again. Damon couldn’t get enough of Harmony, but was trying to control his appetite so as not to hurt her. She didn’t seem to have suffered overly much, though, he thought with a smug smile.

He gathered her in his arms as she slept. Deny it she might, but Harmony Faithfull was as close to an angel in human form as he’d ever encountered. And he would know. It’d been many thousands of years since he’d crossed paths with the angels, and even then it was to do battle with the archangels, like Michael and Gabriel, fearsome warriors, equals to him in all ways of war. But it was the stories of the lesser angels that had always captivated him through the long centuries. Sweet, they were said to be, and mysterious, beautiful enough to bring a mortal man to tears, he’d overheard some humans say. Some of the angels were so pure of heart and intentions that they could lure a demon from the inexorable pull of the depths of Hell to the plains of the mortal world. Aye, Lucifer raged for many days after losing one of his best demon high lords in such a fashion. Pompeii was the result of that particular tantrum. Damon knew, because he’d been dispatched on assignment to do Lucifer’s dirty work immediately after. Memories boiled up: Fire . . . the stench of cinders and death. A sky roiling with black, sulfurous smoke . Damon had walked the destroyed streets of the city, feeling nothing, simply doing what he’d been brought into existence to do: planting fear, doubt, and second thoughts, and accomplishing it with no emotion at all. He may have lost his demon’s heightened senses, but not the memory of how it felt to have the darkness inside him, the coldness. How it felt to be empty.