Christine Warren - Huntress

Aaron struggled for control, found the last few threads that remained, and gathered them up in a tight fist. If he didn’t get ahold of himself, he was going to last about fifteen seconds, most of which would be spent muttering apologies for his technique of shoving it in and then shaking like an earthquake while the force of this mad chemical magic overwhelmed him.

He reached for the hem of her shirt only to find that she’d beat him to it. Their kiss broke just long enough for the fabric to whisk over her head and go sailing in the direction of the refrigerator. The strange little hourglass pendant she wore dropped back to her chest with a thump, the red sand inside seeming almost to flash with inner light at the movement. Then he laid his hands on her bare skin and jewelry was the last thing on his mind.

Her skin felt like warm cream, soft and smooth and voluptuously silken beneath his fingers. At the moment, he could see a flush of pink adorning the pale expanse of it, and he wanted nothing so much as a taste …

She reached behind her and flicked open her bra clasp.

Make that a huge, greedy mouthful.

Brushing the scrap of dark fabric out of the way, Aaron cupped a soft mound in his hand and lifted it to his mouth. Bending low, he took the rosy tip between his lips and drew her inside himself, groaning in pleasure at the sweet, warm, dusky taste of her. His tongue played over the hardened nipple, teeth lightly scraping the sides until he felt her quiver under his hands.

“Aaron,” she breathed.

He released her nipple with a soft pop and dragged his lips across her chest to the other peak. He felt her fingers tighten in his hair and hoped he’d still have some by the time they were finished. Of course, shaved heads were in, he reflected, and baldness seemed like a small price to pay for something so astoundingly perfect.

Rearing back, Aaron reached for the fastening on her jeans, watching as her eyes fluttered open and blinked hazily up at him.

“Wha—?”

He leaned forward, pressed a hard, hungry kiss to her mouth and drew down her zipper. “Sh.”

Something hot passed between them, but it wasn’t until Lilli muttered something against his lips and began to press her hands into his shoulders that he realized it wasn’t their mutual attraction.

Tearing himself from the kiss, Aaron reared back and frowned down at his own chest where a black singe mark now stood out against the top of the white O in the name of the band on his shirt. “What the hell?”

Lilli wasn’t paying attention, but Aaron could hardly blame her, not when he saw the patch of livid red skin above her breastbone and the brightly glowing pendant that seemed to be causing it.

“Damn him,” she hissed, reaching for the chain with both hands and yanking it off rather than fumbling with the clasp. “He didn’t just want me keeping track of the time, the bastard; he wanted to keep track of me.”

“Ah, Lillith,” a voice purred from the shadows in the hall door, “you always were such a clever girl. You get that from your father. It’s just such a shame you won’t be able to pass it on to a child of your own one day.”

Aaron turned and instinctively placed himself between Lilli and the intruder. That earned him a smack on the shoulder blade hard enough to make him wince, but he didn’t step aside.

“Who are you?” he demanded, even though he had a sneaking suspicion he already knew the answer. Behind him, he heard the shifting of cloth as Lilli tugged her shirt back on. Good. Now at least neither of them would be naked when they were slaughtered by a devil prince.

“Didn’t you tell your new friend?” the figure asked, finally stepping forward into the light from the chandelier above the table. “Lillith, darling, I’m hurt that you wouldn’t think to mention me.”

With every step the devil took, Aaron felt more intensely the sensation of things crawling on his skin. He knew better than to look. Devils and demons often gave humans who glimpsed them the feeling of being somehow contaminated, either by insects or vermin or even acidic liquids. It was purely psychological.

At least, that’s what Aaron hoped.

“Sam,” she bit out, her voice sounding as grim as the face he glimpsed when she stepped out from behind him and squared off against the intruder. “Checking up on me already? I thought I had until dawn to run your little errand.”

The devil shrugged and propped one shoulder against the refrigerator in a negligent pose that did nothing to disguise the malevolent power he embodied. “Technically, I suppose you do, but you appear to be a little distracted. I was afraid you might have forgotten why I sent you here.”

“Not likely.”

“Really?” His black, blank gaze shifted from Lilli and Aaron to the bra she had discarded on the floor beside the table and not bothered to put back on in her haste to redress herself. “Funny. I thought you looked quite absorbed.” His gaze shifted to Aaron, focused, glittered dangerously. “Maybe if I gave your beau a few lessons in seduction you’d have better luck next time.”

Aaron’s skin gave up crawling and felt as if it were trying to leave the room at a dead run. He would have very much liked to follow it. Straight into a boiling hot shower. The idea of Samael, Prince of Hell, Lord of Deception, and Master of Depravity, teaching him anything about women held even less appeal for him than apprenticing at the hands of de Sade. He didn’t think immersing himself in a vat of full-strength bleach until his skin melted off would be enough to remove that kind of filth.

God, he thought suddenly, how the hell would he ever get this kitchen to feel clean again?

Now that he thought about it, Aaron couldn’t understand how the devil had even gotten into the house to begin with. Uncle Alistair had the place warded from attic to building site. Aaron remembered teasing him years ago about his paranoia. After all, Alistair was just researching the darker forces, he wasn’t offering to show them a good time. All the wards and charms and spells and blessings that encircled the house and gardens had seemed like overkill. Now, he couldn’t have been more grateful for them.

Fixing his eye on Samael, Aaron studied the devil closely, looking for a clue as to how he’d gotten past the guards. He didn’t appear to be harmed in any way, and he knew several of those wards were strong enough to burn a body to a crisp if they were tripped. He might have suspected that the devil had used magic of his own, but that would have been impossible. No creature could take down a ward specifically designed to keep his kind out. That was what made them effective. So how had he gotten inside?

Aaron craned his head and tried to look around the demon. That was when he noticed it. Despite the uneven light in the kitchen, Samael cast no shadow. The floor and refrigerator behind him remained blank and well-lit, which would have been impossible if the devil were actually in the room. He wasn’t; the figure Aaron and Lilli were seeing was a projection, a kind of magical hologram that looked and sounded exactly like the real thing, but had actually been created to be used as a sort of live-action attendee at a supernatural conference call. He could speak to them, and his presence could still cause them the same physical symptoms as if he were in the room, but the projection was essentially powerless. It could not touch them, and more importantly, it could not use magic against them.

Aaron let himself relax. Just a little.

“Unfortunately, your luck doesn’t seem to be holding out so well, does it?” Samael continued. He smiled, and Aaron marveled that a face so beautiful could be so chilling at the same time. “Of course, you are doing better than your dear uncle, but considering he’s dead, I don’t suppose that takes all that much effort.”