I yank open the refrigerator door and shiver at the blast of cold against my skin. My eyes land on a package of uncooked steak. I grunt and grab it, swinging the door shut again and tearing into the package before it’s even closed. Too hungry to bother with cooking, I fist the first slab of meat and sink my teeth into it, groaning at the flavor of flesh and blood, the juices running down my chin as I chew and swallow, then take another mouthful.
I’m halfway through the third steak and considering the idea of figuring out where I left my phone so I can order a pizza or ten when there’s a knock at my front door. My dragon surges close to the surface immediately, thrashing and huffing like a dog pullingwildly at the end of its leash. Something flutters violently inside my chest, and my heart thunders as if I’m standing on the edge of a cliff about to take flight. Whatever my instincts and my beast are going crazy over is lost on my logical brain though, because I can’t for the life of me figure out who the hell would ring my doorbell. My family walks right in, even when I don’t want them here, and there’s no one else in the world who would bother to come here.
I swallow down the bite that’s in my mouth and toss the shredded package onto the counter. I absently wipe my bloody hands on my towel, leaving pink streaks across the white terry cloth as I head for the front door. I don’t hear anyone else in the house, so I’m guessing Mac had enough sense to clear out with the rest of them. Maybe someone came back to continue the intervention and decided to feign civility by announcing themselves for a change?
I huff a laugh at how unlikely that scenario is.
The closer I get to the door, the more my dragon thrashes and tugs, sending scales ripping over my bare skin. I’m a few paces away when the scent registers in the conscious part of my brain. Sweet, smoky,sex.
I roar and yank the door open so hard I nearly tear it off its hinges. My chest heaves with utter fuckingblindingfury.
The sun shines from just the right angle behind the fiery haired demon standing on my porch, dressed in a black bodysuit that clings to his body like a second skin like he has any right whatsoever to be here. His eyes rake over me, lingering on my mouth… or maybe it’s on the bloody juices drying on my chin. He groans quietly and licks his lips, and then his eyes flicker to mine and his mouth tugs into a sheepish grin that makes me want to strangle him and shove my tongue down his throat in equal measure.
“We need to talk, deliciae.”
It’s the pet name that snaps the thin thread of my control. I howl and launch myself at him, intent on tearing him into pieces small enough to mail back to his realm one sliver at a time, so every last demon in the underworld knows not to fuck with a Drake ever again.
But before I can get my hands on him, my whole body convulses and my dragon forces its way through, leaving me half-shifted as I fight the two halves of my own soul. I stumble back, a choked sound getting stuck in my throat and my vision coming crystal clear as my dragon eyes shine past my human ones. The horror and worry contorting Montrose’s face only encourages my dragon to snap and thrash its way into control. I’m positive it’s only the knowledge that the entryway isn’t large enough for a full shift that keeps my beast somewhat in check.
“Oh shit,” another voice sounds from somewhere behind the demon. It’s a familiar one, but I can’t focus enough to worry about who it is stumbling onto this embarrassing scene.
Montrose reaches for me, and my dragon wants to launch itself at him, not to destroy him but to scent him, to lick him, to breathe fire down his throat and claim him. The human wail that works its way up my throat is contorted and pained as I fight to shake off my dragon’s sudden bout of utter fucking insanity. I’m never fucking another incubus. I swear to all the gods, I’m not.
The demon’s fingers brush over my skin like a match striking a flint, and then something comes sailing through the air and lands at his feet. The sound of shattering glass accompanies a sudden foul odor. Montrose frowns and we both look down at the broken vial at his feet, a green smoke rising from it.
“Oh, balls,” he mutters. Then his eyes roll back, and before I have a chance to react, he topples backward and crashes to the floor.
The howl that tears from my chest this time is straight from my dragon. I drop to my knees and scramble over the unmovingdemon, inhaling deeply, searching him for any signs of injury. There’s no blood,nothing. I whip my head up to find Dempsey standing there, looking shocked.
“What did you do to him?” I growl.
“He’s just stunned.”
“Stunned?” I bellow, jumping to my feet and rushing towards him, ready to shake him until he tells me exactly what he means by that, and where the hell he got whatever it was that just managed to knock out an incubus.
Hemingway sprints through my open front door and puts himself between me and his mate, and in seconds flat, the rest of the family is right behind him. Nico and Arson hold me back, and Lake says some logical bullshit in a calm voice while I kick and snap until my dragon tires himself out and I finally give up the fight.
Dempsey peeks out from behind Hem, eyeing me nervously and holding up a piece of white chalk.
“We need to draw a circle around him to trap him. And if someone wants to text Dahlia, that would be awesome.”
“On it.” Lake whips out his phone and I sag against my brothers, unable to do anything but stare at the unconscious demon on my floor, anxiously watching the rise and fall of his chest with every breath to make sure he’s not actually dead.
MONTROSE
“Mother fucking brimstone,”I mutter, feeling the intense throb just behind my eyes before I’m even fully conscious again. The aftereffects of a stunning potion are worse than a hangover.
I squeeze my eyes tighter and groan, feeling a heaviness all around me that can only mean one thing.
“You fucking asshole dragons,” I mumble, prying my eyes open and blinking blearily at the unfamiliar Parisian style molding on the ceiling overhead.
“Oh good, you’re awake.” A loud, overly cheerful voice makes me wince as I sit up slowly, rubbing my temples and rolling my shoulders in an attempt to release some of the ache left over in my joints from the stun.
A human stoops down right in front of me, his aura so bright it’s painfully blinding while I’m dealing with this fucking hangover. He’s all shiny and pulsing gold. His outfit is just as loud as his energy—a black suit coat with a red silk shirt underneath, paired with a flowing skirt that is actually gorgeous. If he weren’t currently holding me hostage, I might ask where he got it. The red pumps he has on are on point too if I’m being unbiased, which I always am when it comes to fashion.
“Do you greet all your guests by tranquilizing the living hell out of them?”
“Pun intended?” someone asks. I turn my head slowly to see a dragon wearing a teasing smirk, perched on the lap of a wolf. How hard did I hit my head when I went down? The dragon smells incredible though, like pure chaos. My mouth waters.
