Demon Hunting In the Deep South (24 page)

Heat flared in his eyes. He ripped the shirt off and threw it down. Buttons bounced and rolled across the wooden floor.

“Wow,” Evie said, staring at him.

The reality was way better than she expected, and she expected perfection. He was gorgeous, all animal strength and grace, sleek and golden as a mountain lion. Muscles rippled beneath his smooth skin. His powerful chest tapered to a taut, ripped abdomen. The blue jeans he wore rode his lean hips and clung to his strong legs. He was a miracle of power and proportion, the most perfect specimen of the male animal she’d ever seen or could ever imagine.

“You are such a liar,” she said, feeling more than a little indignant. “You’re a thousand times more beautiful than I am. I mean, geez minnelli, look at you.”

“Someone wise once said beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” He hooked one hand behind her neck and tugged her close so that they stood skin to skin, her breasts pressed against his bare chest. Heat bloomed between them, hot enough to melt them both. “We could argue about this all night,” he said. “But there are other things I would much rather do.”

Evie’s heart rate tripped up a notch, and she found it hard to breathe. “Like what?”

“Like this.”

His hands moved to her breasts, and everything in her coiled in anticipation.
Nipples that make a man want to taste them . . .
The hot shivery words thrilled her to the core. She’d been holding her breath, she realized, wanting his hands on her again. Wanting his mouth on her.

“Please, Ansgar,” she begged. The desperate words slipped out, beyond her control to stop them. She wanted this, wanted
him
too badly to be shy and hesitant any longer. “Please.”

“Please what? What do you want, sweetling?” He reached down and cradled her breasts in his strong hands. Evie almost swooned with relief. It felt like forever since he’d touched her. “Tell me.”

“Your mouth,” she heard herself say. Her boldness shocked her. Even more shocking, she arched her back. “There.”

He bent his head, put his mouth on the aching tip of one breast, and suckled. The wet pull of his mouth sent a wicked shock of pleasure to the aching place between her legs. He shifted his attention to the other breast, and her throbbing senses spiraled higher. She drifted, panting, on a sea of desire, and he was her only anchor. She clutched his broad shoulders and held on.

He raised his head and looked at her, his eyes fever bright, his beautiful face tight with lust.

“Does that feel good?” He bent his head once more to lick the tight buds, lazy, teasing strokes of the tongue that made her twist and squirm in his grasp. “And this?” he asked.

She could hear the satisfaction in his tone. He knew what he was doing to her, damn him, and he was enjoying it.

Two could play this game.

“It feels wonderful.” She straightened and looked up at him, taking in the glittering eyes, the strong cheekbones and stubborn jaw, the perfect, kissable mouth made for sex and sin. Good Lord, he was something else. She ran her hands over the thick muscles of his arms and chest, enjoying his tremble of response. “But now I think it’s my turn.”

A muscle tightened in his jaw. “Evangeline, I do not think that is such a good—”

She heard his breath hiss as she trailed her fingers down the muscled ridges of his abdomen and rubbed the hard bulge in his jeans. She suppressed a sigh of longing. He was impressive
there,
too.

“Hmm,” she said, reaching for the metal button at the top of his jeans. “Somebody’s too big for their britches. Literally.”

“Evangeline, I am trying to go slowly.” His deep voice sounded hoarse. “But you test my resolve to the limit.”

She unfastened his jeans so that his heavy shaft sprang forth. Satin-covered steel, she thought, taking the hot, hard length of him in her hand. It felt good to have her hands on him, natural and right. No shyness, no self-consciousness, for the first time in her life. With him, she was strong and confident and free. The joy of it made her want to weep.

She smiled up at him. “I don’t want to go slow. I want you inside me. Now.”

The words seemed to demolish the last of his restraint. With a fierce growl, he took her in his arms and kissed her. Any doubt that he desired her ended with that kiss. There was nothing suave or gentle about it. His need was raw and aching, an unquenchable lust and longing. A desire so palpable that she responded to it without thinking. She came alive in his arms, everything in her yearning for him. Energy crackled around them in blues and greens and fiery red, a jagged lightning burst of pure power.

“Evangeline,” he muttered, worshipping her with his mouth and hands. “I want you. I need you so much.”

“I want you, too, Ansgar.” She ran her hands along the corded muscles of his arms and across his wide chest. Every touch set off more sparks, within and without. The nimbus of color around them pulsed and expanded. She rubbed herself against him, desperate to feel him, to be with him, to worship him, too. “Now. Please.”

He picked her up and made as if to toss her on the bed, but she stopped him.

“No.” She pointed to the floor in front of the mirrors. “There. So I can see.”

Something hot and primitive flared in his eyes. He carried her over to the mirrors and lowered her feet to the floor. She felt something soft beneath her feet and looked down in surprise. The woolen hook rug that covered the hardwood floor in her bedroom was gone, replaced by layer upon layer of luxurious furs.

Dalvahni woo woo, she thought, too hazy and lust drugged to wonder at it.

She dropped to the floor on her knees, offering herself to him. Bold and brazen, perhaps, but she didn’t care. She turned her head and saw Ansgar posed behind her, his jeans around his hips. His erection jutted away from his hard, ridged stomach, long and thick. Perfect.

He grasped her hips, his hands bronze against her pale complexion. She liked his hands on her, liked seeing them like this.

“Arch your back, sweetling,” he muttered, his hot gaze on her naked bottom.

She obeyed, shuddering as he reached between her legs and stroked her. An expression of fierce satisfaction lit his face when he found her wet and ready for him.

She felt him nudge her with the head of his shaft, and then he was inside, filling her, stroking her. She closed her eyes. The feeling was exquisite, driving her higher toward the edge of something.

His hands tightened on her. “No, open your eyes and look at us. Look what you do to me.”

She obeyed. They were connected, flesh to flesh, man and woman.

“Watch,” he said, withdrawing slowly.

The slow, deliberate pull of his flesh on hers was delicious. He rocked his hips and entered her again. Her inner muscles contracted, clasping him tighter.

With a groan, he withdrew again and thrust back inside.

“Evie,” he said. “You are so sweet, so good. I cannot—”

Impatient, hungry for him, she pushed back, taking him deeper. “It’s all right. I love it. I love
you,
Ansgar.”

It was true, she thought, torn between panic and elation. She loved him.

With a groan of relief, he plunged harder, faster. She watched them in the glass. She couldn’t stop. His head was thrown back, his muscles tensed, his face tight and strained. Her buttocks were firm and white beneath his kneading grasp, her breasts swayed in time with the ancient, thrusting rhythm he set.

It was erotic, amazing. Something built inside her, tingling, golden, and hot. The climax rolled over her in waves. With a shout, Ansgar came, too, spilling his seed inside her. Her greedy body pulsed around him, pulling him deeper into the endless ripples of delight.

It was beautiful.

He was beautiful.

She was beautiful, too.

Chapter Twenty-four

L
ater that night, Evie was still flying high on post-sex-with-Ansgar pheromones when they left for the dance. To her surprise, the red dress fit, although it was way too tight in her opinion.

“It is not too tight,” Ansgar said, giving her a hot look that did funny things to her insides. “You are not used to displaying your curves, and that is why you are uncomfortable. You look magnificent. I will be hard pressed to keep my hands off you at the dance, and so will every other male there.” Something dangerous glinted in his silver-gray eyes. “Although they had better.”

Evie thought he was pretty darn magnificent, too. Sex walking in black leather warrior garb, was more like it. Black pants, black boots, and a leather vest over a white sleeveless tunic. Silver and leather armbands hugged a pair of biceps fine enough to make the rest of the masculine universe sit down and bawl from feelings of inadequacy. A knife strapped to a muscular thigh and a second one in a sheath around his ankle. Pale blond hair clubbed back with a piece of leather. Bow and quiver of arrows slung over one broad shoulder. Grim, watchful expression on a face carved out of pure gorgeousness.

Scarlett O’Hara and the Demon Hunter, Evie thought with a happy sigh. It sounded like a paranormal romance.

Leaning against him, she stroked the hard plane of his chest. “I don’t think I can keep my hands off you, either. What say we skip the dance and stay home?”

Ansgar’s eyes grew smoky, and, for a moment, she thought he might yield.

But he shook his head instead. “You are temptation itself, but we are going.”

Crappydoodle. So much for that idea.

When she stepped out of the house and onto the porch, there was a new truck sitting in her driveway.

“What’s that?” she said, pointing to the gleaming black vehicle. She wondered with a pang how Gussie, her battered Ford Taurus, was faring in the impound yard.

“You do not know? It is called a truck.”

“I know what a truck is. Whose is it?”

“Is is mine. It is a Ford Velociraptor Six Hundred, the ballsiest stock pickup ever offered for sale.” Ansgar repeated this last with the rote care of someone who’s memorized a speech.

“Velociraptor?” Evie said, taking Ansgar’s arm as she went down the steps. Walking in the long gown was proving to be a real bitch. “Isn’t that the name of that fancy truck in the showroom down at Riverside Ford? The guys at the mill were going on about it. Said there are only a few like it in the state. Talk is Bobby Glenn’s wife was mad as a wet hen when she found out he ordered it. Probably afraid he won’t be able to sell it.”

“Her worries are over. I purchased the truck this afternoon while you were at the shop with Addy. Bobby Glenn seemed most eager to cooperate.”

“Cooperate? You didn’t . . .”

Ansgar chuckled. “Fear not. I did not compel the human to relinquish the machine. I paid in coin. He seemed surprised.”

“You mean you paid
cash
?”

“Yes, that is the correct term.”

“Holy cow, I’ll bet he was surprised, especially if it cost as much as people are saying.”

“It was seventy thousand of your dollars.”

“Seventy thousand dollars
for a truck
?” Evie stopped in her tracks to gape at him. “Are you insane? That’s more money than most families around here make in a year. Bobby Glenn took you for a ride.”

Ansgar guided her toward the black metal behemoth in her drive. “That is correct. He took me for a ride, and afterward I purchased the truck.”

“Yes, because he’s a car salesman and that’s what they do. They talk people into buying cars.”

“It is not a car. It is a truck,” Ansgar said, as though she were slow. “This truck is special order. It has six hundred and five HP and a Hennessey Performance upgrade. I am not sure what that means or who this Hennessey is. Some kind of magician, I think. No matter. This truck is scary fast. Bobby Glenn says so. It has a muscle-bound body, gargantuan tires, and something called Baja grade suspension. Bobby Glenn says this truck’s ass is bad.”

Badass. The truck was badass and the subject was closed, Evie reflected as he helped her in the truck and shut the door. Ansgar might be thousands of years old, but when it came right down to it he was just another overgrown boy, delighting in his shiny new toy that went
vroom.

The truck was very nice, if a little noisy. Ansgar didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he seemed to enjoy the loud
wump wump
of the big engine. He drove to the club without hesitation and without the aid of the GPS on the dashboard. Maybe he remembered the way from this afternoon, or maybe he had a good sense of direction. He was a hunter, after all.

“I didn’t know you could drive,” Evie commented as they headed across the river bridge. She tried not to think about the chickens.

“I observed you when you drove the van this afternoon,” Ansgar said. “The Dalvahni learn quickly. I also scanned Bobby Glenn’s mind at the automobile store.” He shrugged. “Driving is not difficult.”

He learned how to drive by scanning Bobby Glenn’s mind? Good Lord, her boyfriend was weird.

Her boyfriend; the thought sent her into a swoon of happiness that lasted the rest of the ride.

The club was ablaze with lights. Evie explained the process to Ansgar and he eased the truck up to the sign that said
VALET PARKING.
They were late and the dance had already started, so there were no cars ahead of them. A teenage boy in a navy blazer and khaki slacks stepped up to the passenger side door.

“Holler, dude. You bought the Velociraptor! That is so cool.” The boy grinned from ear to ear. He opened the door and stared at Evie’s cleavage. “Whoa, mama, look at you.”

In the blink of an eye, Ansgar was around the truck. He scowled at the boy as he helped Evie out of the truck. “She is not your matriarchal unit.”

The kid scrambled back with a startled exclamation. “Jeez, mister, I didn’t even see you. Where’d you come from?”

Ignoring the question, Ansgar handed the valet some money. “The truck is new. Take good care of it.”

The boy’s eyes widened when he counted the bills Ansgar gave him. “A hundred dollars? You bet I’ll take good care of it, mister. It’s a sweet ride.”

Ansgar’s disgruntlement visibly eased. He gave the truck a satisfied glance. “Yes, it is. Very sweet, indeed. Make sure you park it well away from the other vehicles.”