Authors: Lexxie Couper
“When the
Daemon Moon
is in my possession than I will have no further need for the good officer.” Blue eyes flared with a dark fire. “I must admit though, I am almost conflicted. She is, as I said, quite addictive.”
Something close to fear squeezed Flynn’s heart. “And how would you know?”
“Her lips are like honeyed velvet, are they not?” Abaddon chuckled, fixing Flynn with a knowing look. “And her desires run dark and deep. Just the way I like them. It is rare to find a woman of such inner strength who longs to be dominated so.”
Flynn’s nails cut into his palms as he curled his fists. “Touch her again and—”
“Get me the
Daemon Moon
and I guarantee you, my hands shall never touch her again.”
Blood roaring in his ears, Flynn stared at the man beside him. “What
is
the
Daemon Moon
Why do you want it so badly?”
Abaddon’s grin returned, dark and demonic. “Most of the…staff…in Los Magia are here by choice. I, on the other hand, lost a bet. The
Daemon Moon
will rectify that loss. And return to me what is mine.”
Flynn narrowed his eyes, his gut a knot of suspicion. “Lost a bet? To whom?”
“Let’s just call him The Big Man. He has something of mine and I want back.
You
can get it for me.”
“Why me?” Flynn asked, his gut knotting more. “Surely in this place you can find someone capable of walking through walls?”
Abaddon’s lips twisted. “True. But a human will not trip the unique… security surrounding the Moon. Someone of my, how shall I put this…origins will. I need the skill of the world famous Mouse.”
“I’m not getting anything unless I know what it is. Why do you want the
Daemon Moon
so desperately?”
Abaddon’s eyes flared. “It is beyond your human comprehension.”
Flynn gave the man an indifferent shrug. “Well, it’s beyond my human skill to obtain it then.”
Pure rage—Abaddon’s rage—hit him. A wave of solid heat. A wall of molten fury that enveloped him. The very air in his lungs felt like sulphur, his bones on fire.
The air around the man seemed to shimmer. His flesh, his muscles, his
form
shifted--a man yet not a man. As if two beings existed in the same space, one human, one a creature of demonic proportions. “
The stone contains
me
, human.”
The words were low, a growling rumble that made Flynn’s eardrums feel like they were being crushed.
“When I have possession on the stone, I will be free. Of contract. Of control. When I have the stone, I will walk this realm and no one will tell me what to do. No one
.”
Flynn’s breath suddenly turned to ice, the blistering heat that only seconds earlier filled his lungs sucked from his body. And then it was just Abaddon standing before him again, eyes blue and intense, but human none-the-less. “Do you comprehend now, Marsters?”
Flynn cocked an eyebrow, forcing his face to remain impassive. Almost bored. “That was very impressive.” He paused. “If a touch showy.”
Abaddon’s nostrils flared. “Showy? Hmm. Let me put it this way. I have marked Katrina O’Lauchlan as my own. Which means one of two things: you can return to that dried-up speak of insignificant land you call Australia with her, or without her. But I should point out before you make up your mind… the ‘show’ you just witnessed? That is the form I would fuck the delectable police officer in every time and any time I wanted to, if you choose
not
to procure the
Daemon Moon
.” A wide, cold grin stretched his mouth and he stared at Flynn with smug intensity. “You decide.”
***
Katrina killed the shower and stepped, dripping, from the cubicle, grabbing a thick, fluffy towel and shaking the excess water from her hair.
The tension roaring into life in her stomach at the blackjack table fifteen minutes ago, coiled tighter--low in the pit of her gut, the place she associated with her cop instincts. A cliché, she knew, but undeniable all the same. She’d survived more than one raid, more than one dangerous situation listening to that coiling sensation. Right at that very second however, that infallible tension that she’d come to rely on since she first holstered her glock was telling her jack-shit.
Yes, it was coiled tighter than ever.
Yes, it was making every nerve in her being tingle.
But that was it. And she honestly didn’t know if it had anything to do with her official purpose for being in Los Magia or the deep, dark desires she’d spent years repressing now threatening to control her actions.
Are you going to Room 42, O’Lauchlan
?
Wrapping herself in the towel, she moved into the bedroom. Yes, she was. But as a cop, not a sex-starved maniac. Which unfortunately, is what she felt like at the moment.
At the moment
?
Well, since touching down in Los Magia.
She crossed the room, forcing her gaze to stay away from the latex costume on the bed. She’d go to the mysteriously familiar man’s suite ready to do her job: jeans, a no-nonsense t-shirt, sneakers and her cuffs. Clothes she could easily take him down—
A sharp knock on her door brought her feet to a still. She stared at it across the space, her heartbeat tripling. Who was on the other side?
Could be
anyone
in this place
.
A sudden burst of irritation erupted in her chest. “Bloody Hell, O’Lauchlan. Just answer the bloody door, will you. You’re acting like a rookie.”
Tugging the edge of her towel tight (any tighter and she’d have trouble breathing.) she strode to the door, scooping up her cuffs as she did so. Just in case.
“Yes?” she almost snapped, swinging the door wide.
“I am impatient,” the man from the blackjack table said, exotic accent turning the words to a caress. Piercing black eyes held her frozen. “And seeing how you answer the door, I am glad for the failing.”
Without another word, he stepped through the door and swung it closed behind him. He stared down at her, his heat grazing her damp skin.
God, I’ve done this before
.
The thought flashed through Katrina’s mind, seconds before a powerful wave of déjà vu claimed her. She had done this before. With this very man. She was sure of it. But how? Narrowing her eyes, she stared up at him, refusing to move despite his disturbing invasion of her personal space. “How do I know you?”
A slight grin pulled at the corners of his mouth. “If I recall correctly, I won the bet, yes?”
Katrina shoved her hands on her hips, the cuffs clinking as they struck her body. “Do you really think I’m going to let you do whatever you want to me?”
The black eyes seemed to ignite with a smouldering flame. “Yes. I do.”
He moved. Fast. Damn fast. His hands closed around her wrists and, with a speed that made Katrina’s head spin, her pulse quicken and her pussy clench, he shoved her against the wall.
“Hey.”
The word burst from her lips with her breath. Her arse smashed against the wall the second his hips smashed into hers, his cock a long, thick shaft that ground the soft curve of her mons with arrogant force. He yanked her arms above her head and pinned her wrists to the wall in an inescapable grip, her cuffs rapping against her knuckles.
Cream flooded her sex. Hot eager cream. As hot as the shame burning her cheeks.
Stop him
.
She lashed out, thrusting her knee upward. Aiming for—
He moved again. Faster. Snaring both her wrists in one fist and hooking his now free hand under her rising leg. With a brutal tug, he yanked her leg higher, redirecting its violent swing until her inner thigh wrapped around his hip and his groin—hot and rigid and demanding—pressed directly on her spread sex.
Oh, God
…
Katrina bucked. “Get off me.”
Black eyes bored into hers. “No.” He jerked her leg higher, his fingers digging into the underside of her knee as he rolled his hips once. Twice.
Liquid hunger consumed her. She stared into his face, breath after ragged breath making her chest rise and fall in rapid motion. Her nipples, still covered by thick towelling, puckered into rock-hard nubs, pushing against his chest with a friction that made her pussy constrict again.
Another wave of déjà vu rolled over her and she sucked in a swift breath.
Oh, Dear Jesus
.
“You are wet,
ma cher
,” he murmured, staring into her eyes. He pushed his hips forward slightly, the solid length of his cock, barely contained by tailored black trousers, branding her sex. “But I will make you wetter.”
He smoothed his hand from the back of her knee higher up her thigh until he cupped her arse cheek, his fingers feathering the swollen lips of her pussy.
A whimper slipped from Katrina’s throat, soft and telling. He knew what he was doing. He
knew
exactly what she wanted.
How
?
Does it matter
?
Yes. It did.
Fighting the dark desire deep within her being, she fixed him with an unwavering stare. “Who are you?”
Black eyes glinted and he pressed his hips harder to her. “Curiosity kills the cat, Ms O’Lauchlan.”
“Yes, but satisfaction brings it back.”
“Oh, I guarantee you will be satisfied.”
Katrina glared at him, her body awash in an excitement she couldn’t deny. “I’m mistaken about knowing you. I’d remember someone so completely full of themselves.”
The man stared at her, his body pressing her to the wall, his cock aligned perfectly with her sex. His hold on her wrist grew almost painful. “You’d think so.”
The words were soft, almost a whisper. And with them, came an expression on his face that Katrina had seen before. An expression of self-loathing and sadness. An expression worn by a man she’d not seen since… She frowned, her heart a canon in her throat. “Flynn?”
The man’s black eyes widened. His nostrils flared. “You are thinking of another man while in my arms?” His fingers ground into her wrists and he jerked her arms straighter, grinding his cock against her pussy. Punishing her. “Who is this Flynn?”
Katrina writhed beneath him, feeling the fingers of his hand on her arse sink closer to her sex. God, she wanted those fingers buried in her. “None of your fucking business,” she snarled instead.
“Everything about you is my business, Australian Federal Police Officer, Katrina O’Lauchlan.”
Her breath caught. “How—”
He didn’t let her finish. With savage speed, he took a step backward and ripped the towel from her body. “Beautiful.”
He came at her hard. Crushing her to the wall, one hand closing over her breast with brutal possession, the other grabbing the back of her thigh and jerking her leg up. His mouth claimed hers and his shaft rammed against her pussy, hard and unforgiving. Her clit—that swollen tiny nub of sensitive flesh—throbbed at the contact and she sucked in a breath through her nostrils, arching into him even as she wanted to pull away.
She had no answers. How could she submit to this…this invasion without answers?