Fire burned through her pelvis, into her spine, and down her thighs. She fell to the floor with a gasp, shaking as the nefarious magic flooded her blood. Heat bloomed from the metal’s vicious bite, overriding the pain.
And then… then came the need.
“No,” she sobbed, clutching her hands uselessly against the concrete floor as she felt herself soften, sharp pangs of desire rising through her pelvis like an uncurling serpent.
She looked up then as if drawn by invisible powers, and her eyes locked on his—the powerful demon still crouched by the blonde female’s mangled corpse.
His human irises were pitch-black, the pupils filling them, his gaze fixed on her and her alone. His nostrils flared wide, taking in her scent.
She shuddered in terror of being this primal creature’s sole focus—and with longing. Deep, intense, bone-melting yearning.
He was a demon, of that she was sure—but he was also big and strong, dominance radiating from his every pore. He was more than capable of saving her from the agonizing need growing steadily between her legs.
She let out a pained moan—a wordless plea as her mind fogged.
He moved then, shifting closer, but before he could rise and come to her, movement flashed behind him.
Selma cried out what should have been a warning, but it came too late. The redheaded demoness leapt at him from behind. Somehow he managed to twist at the last second, and the dagger that was aimed at his throat tore into his shoulder instead.
The Lord roared again, shaking the warehouse, and spun around to face his attacker, knocking the blade out of his shoulder in the process. The dagger clattered and skidded on the concrete as he snatched Red by the throat and immediately pounded her into the ground hard enough that her skull cracked like an egg. His fist followed, smashing into her face, breaking the front of her cranium and smattering her brain.
He spun and leapt to his feet, searching the warehouse for the third female. Judging by his frustrated growl, Cold Eyes had taken the opportunity to run while he took out her second companion.
Go. Follow her, Selma silently prayed, even if her body wished he wouldn’t.
The big brute took a few steps toward the warehouse’s door, seemingly intent on taking up pursuit. But before he reached it, his steps faltered as he looked back over his shoulder. At her.
Shit.
Selma scrambled forward on her hands and knees until her fingers closed around the dagger that’d previously been buried in his shoulder.
“Leave!” she hissed, somehow finding the strength to push back up into a kneeling position. She aimed the blade at him with a shaking hand, using the other to wipe away the blood from her split eyebrow.
He paused, gaze flicking from her forehead to her knife. A deep exhale left his chest.
“Fuck.” It was an exasperated growl, filled with frustration—and below that, husky need. The sound of it, of the rich, male rumble, made her core clench tight and a breathy gasp escape her throat.
No. No, no, no.
“L-Leave me alone,” she whispered, incapable of putting conviction behind her words despite her brain’s panicked screeching.
He didn’t respond, but instead of exiting the warehouse, he turned around. And then he was walking toward her, heavy steps thumping in the emptiness until he was close enough to crouch in front of her.
She lunged at him, but he simply batted the weapon out of her hand before he wrapped his huge arms around her and lifted her as if she weighed nothing more than a kitten.
He smelled like sulphur and male.
“P-Put me… down.” It was so hard to remember why she was supposed to run from him. His infernal heat penetrated her flesh through his black leather coat, soothing her aching muscles and pulling her into a cocoon of safety.
“No.” He shifted her in his arms, eyes roaming her damaged body. “Did they cut you deep?”
“I don’t… I don’t think so,” she croaked, though it was hard to feel the extent of her injuries through the involuntary lust pulsing in her veins.
He didn’t say anything further. He simply carried her out into the night.
As soon as they were clear of the building, he adjusted her position again so he could free one hand to grab his phone. There was a sequence of digital tones as he dialed a number, and then his gruff voice resonated in his chest and in the air above her.
“Thomren, I need you to get Pete and his crew to come to the Spearhead Quarter down by the warehouses. I need a clean-up. They'll be able to find it by the scent. But before they get here, I need you to sort out a car. I'll meet you by 127th and Pearson. Got it?”
