He backed away slowly, his face pale, his chest heaving. “No.”
“What’s wrong?”
His gaze flicked past me, to the far corner of the room. The shadows there seemed thicker, heavier.
“Get up,” he said, voice sharp now. “Weneedto ward this house.”
My heart thudded. “What’s going on?”
He didn’t look at me when he answered. “There’s something evil here. It’s watching us.”
I scrambled up, staring at that same spot on the wall where Hellsing’s focus was locked. “Get my bag, Grace. Quickly.”
HELLSING
The shadows still clung to the corners of the house, and they felt thick and heavy. I could feel Bael’s presence, oily and slick, sliding just out of sight, waiting for any crack in my guard. I grabbed the old bottle of holy water from my saddlebag and stalked the perimeter of the living room, every muscle coiled as I prayed low, beneath my breath. I splashed the water at the doors and windows, tracing invisible crosses with my fingers. The words tasted like blood and bourbon on my tongue; every prayer was used as a warning letting anything supernatural know that no demon gets in tonight.
Grace watched me, her eyes dark and hungry, her hair tumbling wild around her shoulders. She was standing by the fireplace, arms wrapped around herself, her chest rising and falling as she tracked my every move. Even as I was warding the house, I couldn’t help thinking how good she looked in nothing but my shirt. Her soft skin peeking out, bare legs on display, that damn sigil still glowing against the swell of her breast.
When I finished, I set the bottle down with a hard clink. My pulse was hammering with half adrenaline and half need. Thehouse felt safer, lighter, temporarily. Now it was just the two of us, the night pressing in, no one left to watch but each other.
I crossed the room in three strides. Grace didn’t flinch; she only watched me beneath long lashes. I cupped her jaw, a little rougher than intended. She whimpered as I tilted her head back, a little more gently, until her eyes met mine. She was trembling, but it wasn’t out of fear.
She gave out a slight yelp, as I tore her shirt down, ripping the fabric at the shoulder, exposing the swell of her breast and the sigil etched into her skin.
“Hellsing,” she whispered breathlessly.
My palm pressed flat over the tattoo, feeling her heartbeat thundering under my hand. I placed hers over my own sigil, tattooed on my chest. I could see her pupils dilate as I whispered the prayers, the words sounded old and sacred, my voice rough with lust and something dangerously close to losing control.
“Chant for me,” I said, my mouth right at her ear, my hand still pressed to her bare skin.
She started, her voice shaking, her breath hot against my throat. The sigils both glowed brighter, heat building between us until I could barely see straight. Her body arched into my touch, her nipples tight, begging for my mouth. My cock strained in my jeans, throbbing, but I didn’t rush her, I needed her to feel the power in this, in us, in the way her magic called to mine.
Her spell twisted around us, threading through my bones, lighting me up from the inside out. I pulled her close and kissed her, deep and raw, her taste sweet and wild as our tongues tasted one another. Her hands clawed at my back, desperate for skin. I lifted her, easy, cradling her thighs around my hips, and she ground against me, shameless and needy, her core slick and hot through her panties.
I broke the kiss, “You’re safe,” I said, my thumb tracing her bottom lip. “You’re mine tonight. No one else's.”
She reached up, her hands threading into my hair, dragging my mouth down to hers. The first kiss had been hard, almost desperate, all teeth and tongue. This second one was slower, hotter, as if she were searching for something deeper as her lips parted under mine. My hands slid down, tracing the edge of her shirt, skimming over her hips, feeling the heat of her bare skin.
Her breath shuddered out, her back arching as my fingers explored, teasing the hem up inch by inch. I took my time, mapping her with my hands, memorizing every curve, the softness in the swell of her ass, every soft moan that escaped her lips. My mouth found the pulse at her neck, licking, biting gently, my stubble scraping her skin.
I turned around, slamming my back against a wall, she was held tight in my arms. Her palms lay flat on my chest, her body pressing close. She smelled of roses and clean soap, the scent flooded my senses, and I felt myself slipping, falling into her all over again.
“Peter,” she whispered, her voice breaking on my name. “Don’t stop.”
I didn’t. I couldn’t.
I moved toward the bedroom, her legs wrapping around my waist even tighter while her hands fisted the back of my shirt. We crashed against the wall, her laughter breathless, her lips hungry as she devoured me. I carried her to bed, laying her down, covering her body with mine. She stared up at me, eyes wide and unguarded.
I ripped that damned t-shirt apart, baring her tits to me. They were two perfect dark areolas that shone against her soft lightly tanned flesh. The sigil on her breast flared bright as I traced it with my tongue, worshipping her with every stroke. She arched into me, her nails raking my back, dragging me closer.
“More,” she gasped, her legs spreading, inviting me in. I slid my hand between her thighs, finding her slick and ready through her panties, my fingers teasing her as I kissed her hard.
I peeled her panties down, slow and rough, letting my fingers trail over her thighs, teasing, stroking her open, dipping my fingers between her folds to feel how wet she was for me. She gasped, eyes heavy, rolling her hips against my hand.
You want me, my sexy witch?” I asked, my voice sounded gravelly and rough as I pressed two fingers inside her, slow and deep. She moaned, back arching off the mattress, nails digging into my arms.
“I want you, Hellsing. I want all of you.”
