Soul Surrender (10 page)

He immediately pulled back, touching himself. “One more outburst like that and ‘rest' will mean both of us completely clothed. Not touching.” Fire sparked behind his eyes and the playful grin disappeared entirely.

His tongue swirled around my opening and finally darted in and out in thrusting movements. My hands cupped his face, angling his eyes up toward me. They gleamed with mischief, and the bedside lamp highlighted the gray color. A smile tugged toward his eyes. I nudged my neck back. “C'mere, elemental.”

He crawled over top of me and yet again donned some sort of magical yoga pose wherein none of his weight landed anywhere on my body.

“I want you inside of me,” I whispered, my voice a mere gasp from below him.

Damien shook his head. “That wasn't part of the deal,” he whispered back, licking his lips.

“What if I promise not to do any of the work.” I blinked slowly, the flutter of my lashes creating a crackled web through which I could see him. I raised my right hand. “Angel's honor.”

His face split into a grin. “But you, succubus, are no longer an angel. What good is that honor?”

I matched his grin. “You'll just have to trust me, elemental.”

“Trust.” He rolled the word over in his mouth as if it were a new flavor he was testing. “You know me,” he said finally. “Up to try anything once.” He lowered his lips to my ear. His breath was hot and his lips wet. “But don't give me a reason to regret it.”

His hand trailed up from the curve of my hip, over my waist and ribs, to cup my breast under the T-shirt. His capable hands kneaded my breasts, heavy with need, and his thumb and forefinger rolled the end of my nipple, elongating it. The delicious sensation buzzed between my legs, and I moaned, trying to keep still. Damien kissed me, his tongue against mine, muffling my cries. His lips were the mallet that shattered the mirror. My body convulsed against his—aching, needing. And I was so wet, I dripped down the insides of my thighs.

His fingers slipped down between my legs, circling my drowning sex, and the heel of his hand applied pressure to my clit. “My God,” he hissed.

Licking his hand, he pumped his erection a few times before nudging my legs wider and sliding inside. His head threw back and his eyes closed, relishing my tight grip around him. He filled me entirely, his head nudging that tight spot deep inside. He eased his body back in exquisite leisure and thrust back inside, rolling his hips. I took him all and then some, crying out as his hip bone slapped the insides of my thighs.

I clawed at his chest, moaning, begging—unraveling there right before him. “Please, Damien . . .” I was a mush of nonsensical cries and words. “Please, faster.”

One bead of sweat rolled down past his temple to his jaw, and I caught it with my finger, sucking the salty moisture onto my tongue.

His movements in and out were tortuously slow at first, and he thrusted with a rhythmic ease. As he sped up, he grasped my face with two hands, urgent but yet still gentle, and kissed me. His teeth tugged on my lower lip. I desperately wanted to match him thrust for thrust; I wanted to ram my ass off of this bed into his cock—but a promise is a promise.

“Can I—can I wrap my legs around you?” I panted and fingered his damp hair at his neckline.

His eyes creased with a smile. “Of course,” he grunted.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, locking at the ankles and offered him deeper access—if that was even possible.

Oh, yes, it
was
possible. With the next thrust, his head massaged me deeper than ever before. A sheen of sweat glistened across my skin, and the dip in between my breasts gathered a tiny pool of sweat. Before I could shift it away, Damien's head dropped and he licked it up, moving first to one nipple, rolling the tip in his lips, then to other, repeating the technique.

I squeezed my muscles around him and I swear I could feel his dick grow in size inside of me. My stomach muscles quivered, and everything inside of me stiffened beneath Damien. His muscles were thicker than corded rope beneath my hands, and I dug in my fingers while gritting my teeth.

“Come with me, angel,” he whispered, and despite the fact that we were both about to explode, his voice was composed, if not a little breathless. I unraveled at his words, like a rubber band stretched too far and snapping back into place. My strangled cry split the air around us, and I splintered into a million shuddering pieces beneath him. Dropping his head to my shoulder, he nibbled my skin there, convulsing atop me. With a final hard thrust, he emptied himself inside of me.

I was a panting, sweaty mess, and Damien had his forehead against mine, breath just as ragged and sweating far more than I ever allowed myself to. My hair was in disarray, heart thumping wildly as I took a deep breath, willing my rapid pulse to slow. Damien's eyes fluttered open and he dropped a kiss to my nose before easing himself out of me.

He lay next to me, propped on an elbow, and tucked my hair behind my ear, letting his fingers linger at my jaw. “You okay?” His eyes were demanding, and they seared my soul with a simple glance. He was frustratingly handsome with his tousled dark hair, serious expression, and narrowed gray eyes.

“Huh?” I ask, breathless.

“Your head,” he softened, but the intensity of the question didn't dissipate in the slightest.

Oh, right.
I thought for a moment and grinned back at him. “The headache's totally gone.”

His carefree smile was back instantly, and it's enough to make a girl melt. “Just call me Doctor Penis.”

I grabbed his cock, which was in limbo—not quite hard but not yet entirely flaccid. “Does the doctor do house calls?” I asked in a husky voice that I learned from years of watching Kayce.

“Whenever you want, babe.” He leaned down and kissed me again, snaking his hand up the back of my neck into my hair. “But not tonight.” He pulled away, handing me a glass of water. “Drink up, then get some rest.”

M
orning light spilled into the room in slits through the flimsy blinds. I rolled to my right, throwing an arm, expecting it to land across Damien's broad chest. Instead, I was met with a body covered in soft fur, panting hot breath against my skin. I blinked awake, and Baxter ran a wet tongue across my face. If I didn't know better, I could've sworn the dog was smiling back at me. He looked—different somehow. More youthful, energetic—something.

“Morning, buddy.” I scratched behind his ears, and he rolled onto his back offering me his belly instead. “Greedy motherfucker, aren't you?” I said with a giggle, hugging him and rubbing his belly instead. Sitting up, I kicked my feet off the edge. “C'mon, Bax. Let's go find Damien, huh?”

I slipped Damien's silky boxers back on, just in case someone had popped in bright and early. Ever since last year, that seemed to happen more and more to me. There was a buzzing surrounding the house, as if the walls around us were vibrating, and after a second, I relaxed, realizing it was just Damien talking to the elements.

“I told you—the door had nothing to say. The bushes didn't see anything, either. Read my aura, asshole. I'm not lying,” said Damien.

He grunted and I froze in the hallway. Who was he talking to?

“Why didn't you call me?”

Julian. I sighed, my knotted back relaxing at his voice.

“I shouldn't have had to,” Damien growled. “If I recall, you were in charge of her getting here safely. I should have known I couldn't trust you.”

“Oh, please.” Julian's eye roll could be heard all the way down the hall where I stood. “So, what do you know about the attack?”

“All we know is that something teleported here, hit her over the head, slashed at that burn mark, and left—”

“What burn mark?” Julian snapped.

“This burn mark,” I said, lifting my shirt as I entered the room. Julian's eyes dropped to the cross.

Heat flooded his cheeks and I peeked at my behind, realizing I had tugged the boxers down a little too far, revealing a touch of ass cheek to the angel.

“I-It's new?” he stuttered, eyes fluttering around the room, finally landing on my face.

I tugged my clothes back in place. “Just a couple nights ago. Thanks to Buckley and a glamour charm. I think it's a spell of some sort.”

Julian nodded, his face still beet red. “I will look into it.”

“Any insight as to why the scar won't go away?”

“Or why someone would specifically try to cut it away?” Damien cut in, handing me a cup of coffee before pouring one of his own. Such a gentleman.

“Before I can answer that, I need to find out what it is.”

“Bullshit,” Damien grumbled, diving his hand into his already rumpled head of hair. He slugged his coffee down, damn near finishing the whole mug in one slurp.

Jules's eyes drooped as though Damien's outburst was nothing more than a tantrum, which to be honest was all it was. “You ready?”

I shifted into an outfit; a pretty blue sundress with a white belt and kitten-heel ballet-style shoes. “I am now.”

“God, you suck,” Damien grumbled, and headed back to the bedroom. “
Some
of us actually need to shower in the mornings.”

I caught his hand as he passed me and pulled him in, placing a soft kiss on his lips. He tasted of toothpaste and coffee. “I'll see you later.” I smacked him playfully on the butt, and he ducked into the bedroom.

“Never thought I'd meet anyone less of a morning person than you.”

“Don't let this quick shift fool you.” I gestured up and down my new look. “I've got a lump on my head, a burn on my back, and a grudge in my gut. And I'm not afraid to take it out on you.” I spoke through a grin, but there was no hiding the truth in the words. There is a land called Displacementia—and I am their Queen.

“I know,” Jules puffed through a breathy chuckle. “It's why I brought a peace offering.” From behind his back, he produced a giant to-go cup of something caffeinated. I snatched the cup from him, wide eyed and salivating at the thought of a latte and energy. Yes, yes, I'm a junky. Admitting it is the first step, right? I sipped the steaming beverage with a moan of pleasure. “Caramel mocha latte,” I said, closing my eyes and relishing the sugar-packed flavor. “It tastes just like how Drew makes it.” The smile crept to my face before I could stop it. When I opened my eyes, Jules was grinning back at me.

“Don't tell me you thought he was the only one who could fulfill your needs?”

The question lingered, dangling in the thick air between us. There was no way I was answering that.

We arrived at Hell's Lair early—our hopes being that it would be well before anyone from the club woke up and came over. You could never be sure though, with demons. Tricky little fuckers.

“Where to first?” Julian's eyes twinkled, and he didn't bother squinting in the direct morning sunlight. I, on the other hand, shaded my eyes with a flattened palm.

Damn, I wish I had drunk that latte slower. I shook the empty coffee cup, then tossed it into the nearest trash can. Bummer. “Let's start in Lucien's office. If there's time, we'll check the girls' dressing room.” Not that I thought we'd find anything with my fellow strippers. Lucien was one of the best ArchDemons a girl could ask for. Even Kayce could admit that. Any of his inferiors stupid enough to try to get rid of him would surely end up with a bitch of a boss—someone like Claudette.

With a
crack,
we each teleported into Lucien's office. Cherry wood and gray carpet gave the room a gloomy atmosphere, reflective of the feeling in my stomach. I half expected him to be sitting at his desk, going through paperwork when we arrived. Like it had all been one big, unfunny practical joke. But the joke was on me. The Newton's Cradle desk toy, which could detect the supernatural, swung wildly with Julian's appearance. The little silver balls cracked into one another with a deafening sound. Jules put a hand to them, and they stilled immediately.

“I'll take the desk,” I said, sliding open the top drawer. There were two trays inside—one for paperwork marked “invoices” and the other, a smaller tray for pens. Black pens specifically. Damn, Lucien was organized. Why he couldn't have taken the time to instill that sort of skill into me back in the day . . . I could have really used that, as well as learning how to seduce men. I smiled. He probably
did
try. I was likely too damn stubborn to listen.

The invoices were standard. Liquor distributors. Electrician—probably to get that damn mechanical bull installed. Independent contractors. Lenny . . . wait. What was Lenny giving Lucien an invoice for? It was for fifteen hundred dollars, and under the description it said “freelance work.” I took a picture with my phone and added it back to the stack.

The middle drawer of his desk held a receipt book. And blue pens. I rolled my eyes. Separating the different color pens? Who knew he was such a geek. I'd have to get him a pocket protector at the next holiday party. I swallowed, a lump gathering in my throat. If he was even here for another holiday.

I shook the thought away as I flipped through the receipt book. Sure enough, each month, there was a paid invoice to not only Lenny but also to Mia and Claudette. Mia made sense—Lucien might be giving her kickbacks from the succubi he made money off of. But Claudette? And Lenny? That douche was on the payroll as it was.
And
Damien discovered months ago that he was skimming money off the top. I snapped a few more pictures and tucked the book back in the desk.

I moved to open the bottom drawer.
Clunk-clunk
. Damn—locked. That meant something juicy was in there. Holding my palm over the lock, I whispered an incantation, sneaking a sideways glance at Jules. He stiffened, and though he wasn't looking my direction, I knew he could sense the magic—neither Heavenly or Demon. As the spell ended, sparks flew from the lock, zapping my fingers and sending me back, flat on my ass.

I sat up, a bit dazed, rubbing the back of my head, which, even though I had shifted the lump away, still bore a bit of the ache from the blow last night. “Mother of Hell, Lucien.” I whispered, pushing to my feet. Jules was at my side, helping me up.

“It's an enchantment,” he said, hand lingering around mine.

I tugged it away before I did something stupid. Like pressing his erection against my hip.
Again
.

“No shit, Einstein,” I muttered back. Jules stepped back, stuffing his hands into his worn jeans. His tight, gray cotton shirt clung to his chiseled chest, and I swallowed as I lifted my eyes to his.

He raised an eyebrow, a breath puffing from full, rose-colored lips. “Well?” he said in a monotone voice.

I rolled my eyes, dropping my hands to my sides. “I'm sorry, okay! You've been wonderful—and yes, I'm a bitch. I know it. But Lucien's like a brother. I'm a little off today.”

Jules twitched a smile and brushed his thumb across the corner of my mouth. Bringing the finger to his mouth, he darted out his tongue, and the sight of it in action made mine dryer than sandpaper. “You had a bit of latte there,” he said with a wink. I swallowed—Drew used to do the same thing every time I had foam on my lips. It got to the point where I would purposefully leave a little there just to feel his touch.

Leaning in, Jules placed a searing palm to my hip. The heat of his body, the smell of his peppermint scent, spun in my head. “And—apology accepted.”

“As if you have a choice,” I mumbled. “You're an angel. You have to accept my apology.”

“Do I, now?”

There was a pause as he pulled his hand back. The absence of his touch tingled on my skin and left my hip cold. My soul empty. He dropped to a crouch in front of the desk and placed a hand to the lock. “It's a decoy,” Jules said, lifting once more to his feet.

“How do you know? You an elemental, too, now?”

Jules shook his head. “No. But I can sense a lie. There might be something in there, but it's not all that important. Lucien knew that his desk is the first place an intruder would look.” He glanced around the room, brushing a hand across the top of the desk. “Where's his laptop?”

“I've never seen Lucien with one. He usually just uses his phone.”

“Damn,” Jules grunted, and I stepped back, breath catching in my throat.

“Julian!” I dropped my voice to an exaggerated whisper. “Did you just
curse?
”

“Lucien is my friend, too.” He was quiet, but his voice held traces of regret.

“I can't imagine Heaven is too keen on your friendship with an ArchDemon.” I looked at him through the corners of my eyes.

“Well, they're not too excited about my alliance with you, either. But,” he continued, “I think they knew it was inevitable when we—when you . . . when you fell.”

The thought struck my chest like a mallet to a gong. “Could this be a Heaven versus Hell sort of kidnapping? Have any angels disappeared lately that would stir a demon kidnapping?”

He seemed to pause and think about that before bringing his massive shoulders crunching to his ears. “Could be. I don't know of any missing angels, though. I'm not about to rule anything out just yet.”

There was silence as we both stared into nothing. My eyes zoned out against the cabinets lining the wood-paneled wall. “Wait.” I darted over and placed a hand to the cabinets.

“I already looked through those,” Julian said.

“I know—but last year, when Wills and Lexi were after me, Lucien lifted an enchantment from these drawers to give me my gun. It was almost like there was another set of cabinets
behind
these.” Shit, what was that incantation he used? And would it work if I said it?

I closed my eyes, thinking back to a year ago in this very office. He had lifted both hands and it was a whisper. Barely a whisper. With a slow breath, I released my own chant. A click came from behind the cabinet, and when I opened my eyes one was slightly ajar.

Julian's narrowed eyes seared the back of my neck and all my hairs stood on end. “How did you do that?” His footsteps against the carpet sent a shudder down my spine. “That wasn't typical succubus magic. Neither was the incantation over at Lucien's desk.”

I shrugged, not looking at him. It was no use lying to an angel—the supernatural lie detectors of the realm. “I'd say beginner's luck, but you'd see right through that.” After another pause, I opened my mouth to speak before Jules pressed a finger to my lips.

“I'm better off not knowing,” he whispered, then turned his attention back to the cabinet. “But I think Lucien left this so that you could open it. No one else's incantation would work on an enchantment unless he ordered it to. Whatever this is, he wanted you to find it.”

“Which means,” I continued for Jules, “he suspected something might happen to him.”