Accidentally Demonic (32 page)

Yeah, yeah. But that was all out of obligation and duty. She’d never seriously thought he didn’t have morals or that he wasn’t willing to own what he’d done to contribute to this mess, but there was a big part of her that wished it had to do with other things. Mated things . . . “Thanks, Archibald. I think I’m going to shower and maybe take a nap.”

“You’ll find fresh towels in the bath along with a Yanni CD. Master Clayton asked that I purchase it for you so that you might enjoy his fine instrumentals whilst bathing. He said yours were all in storage until you’re able to find another place of residence.”

Casey’s stomach lurched. He’d actually listened when she’d told him she loved Yanni. . . . He was just being nice. Because she was Wanda’s little sister, because he’d doomed her in a deadly demon bloodbath, because he felt guilty. Yet, she muttered, “That was nice.”

“Oh, undoubtedly.” His profile, glowing from the light of the fridge, twitched with the lift of his lips in a smug smile.

To believe there was some hidden message from Archibald, like he’d picked up some kind of man-signal where Clay’s worry about her was concerned, was only reading into things she was better off not reading into. “Okay—off to a shower. When I say my day was Hell—I can’t believe I’m really not kidding.”

Arch gave her an amused glance over his impeccably suited shoulder. “Then I can safely assume our girl-talk is over, Miss?”

Grinning, she patted him on the back. “Sorry, that must’ve been uncomfortable.”

“Oh, not at all, Miss Casey. I watch
The View
—I’m very”—he swiped two fingers on each hand in the air—“in the know.”

She went to the stove, where something hideous simmered. The smell accosted her nostrils. She was almost afraid to ask. “What is that, Arch?”

His hand went up in the air in dismissal. “A poultice of sorts, Miss. I’m an old man with many aches and pains. It’s an old recipe from many years ago. Bloody awful on the nostrils, don’t you agree?”

And the eyes. Hers watered. “It’s pretty distinct.”

“But soothes my muscles. Arthritis can be a demon.” He frowned. “No pun, of course.”

Her giggle followed her out of the kitchen.

Closing her bedroom door, she took a quick shower and changed into an old T-shirt, taking the Yanni CD with her out to the bedroom. A smile, secretive and all feminine, tugged at her lips when she put it into the CD player on the nightstand.

Oy.

Stretching her facial muscles, Casey fought the impending grin.

She would not read into a Yanni CD. She. Would. Not.

It was foolish and impetuous and something so small, it was almost unnoticeable. She was never going to mistake a gesture so simple for real interest in her again.

Ever.

Exhaustion clung to every surface of her body. Dragging the blankets up, she tried to stop the swirling images of where she’d been, and what else was at stake besides her future and Clay’s marital un-bliss. Those words that demon Marcus had spoken meant something.

Yanni’s soothing fingers, sweeping over ivory keys, coaxed her, calling her to rest her tired thoughts.

Her lips sleepily lifted once more.

Yanni.

Clay had bought her a Yanni CD.

No, he’d had Archibald do it.

Yes. No. Yes.

Clay just felt guilty.

And a Yanni CD wasn’t going to make up for being the Bride of Frankenstein’s twin.

Not even John Tesh live in her living room could do that.

CHAPTER 15

She woke to the sound of Clay on the phone, gruffly informing someone that he’d come see them soon. Sliding from the bed, admittedly she was curious to know who he was always talking to all secretive-like. The bits and pieces of conversations she’d heard gave her no clues if he was talking to a man or a woman, but whoever it was, he talked to them often, and from time to time, his expressions warmed.

And it was driving her insane.

Rationally, it didn’t make much sense that Clay was the kind of man who’d toss her, yet still be involved with another woman.

But no one was giving her kudos for her rationale these days.

Sneaking toward the door, Casey pressed her ear to it just in time for him to snap his phone shut with a quick “good- bye” and for the door to crack her in the head. “Ow!”

Clay stuck his head inside with a crooked smile, tamping out the throb of her head and replacing it with the warmth his smile brought. “If you weren’t listening at the door, you wouldn’t be developing that lump on your head.”

“I wasn’t listening,” she said, way too heavy on the indignation.

“How are you feeling?”

She ran a hand over her rumpled T-shirt. “Better, thanks.”

He tilted her chin upward, forcing her to look at him. “Good. You hungry? Arch outdid himself in the kitchen in your honor. I could heat some up for you.”

She leaned into his hand, closing her eyes with a girly sigh. “First, no thanks. Have you smelled whatever it is he’s cooking up in there? It smells like something died a toxic death. So I’ll pass. And second, who are you?”

His grin was wide. “What?”

“You just offered to heat my dinner up. Warm and nurturing you’re not.”

“I’ve been hard on you.”

And in me
. . . heat painted her cheeks, making her swoon. “Is that an apology?”

“Yep.”

“Wow. What brought that on? Did Venus and Mars align? Is the world ending?”

Clay laughed, and they were right back to the lighter side of him. “Your sister’s tirade about my insensitivity with a little of Nina’s browbeating me thrown in for good measure.”

“Nina?”

“Yeah, I know. Crazy that, huh?”

“Crazy that,” she mumbled. “I’m sorry. Wanda can be very protective. I don’t understand how our roles reversed. I used to be the one who looked out for her. Suddenly, she’s very fierce and winging it all over the place.” Which should be a huge indication as to just how far she’d sunk since she’d begun working for the Castalanos. She’d lost her backbone somewhere between running away from Rick and taking the job with the twins.

“You looked out for her?”

“Yeah. I know it sounds crazy, but there was a time I was a take-no-shit kinda girl.”

“And what changed that?”

Degradation. Humiliation. Age. Rick. Her eyes flitted to the rounded top of his shoulder. “Life, I guess. I didn’t realize what a pathetic minion I’d become until just recently.”

He ran a finger along the length of her nose, making her fairly purr. “Well, you did say you could summon vermin. I’d say you’re a force to be reckoned with now.”

Her body trembled under his touch, as slight as it was. She found herself melting toward him, standing on tiptoe to get closer. Her hands fought a war with each other, fisting together, pulling away, reaching out, moving back, wanting to keep him where he was, but afraid she’d say something stupid and send him packing. “Did I say thank you for the Yanni CD?”

“Not properly,” was the husky reply.

Casey’s hormones kicked into overdrive, revving their engines. The flirtatious, kittenish half of her wanted to claw her way along his body. The other half, the one that never shut the fuck up when she was about to do something with total abandon, wanted to understand what had brought about this change of mood. This man made her head spin.

Hot, cold. Yes, no. In, out. He was like that Katy Perry song.

It was bipolar.

Which was okay by her—she could relate.

Her eyes burned when she looked into his with a haughty arrogance she had no qualms about calling upon. “What would be the proper way to thank you?” ’Cause given an op, she could think of at least twenty sexual positions that would do the trick. Oh. God. Stop, stop, stop!

Bending his head nearer to hers, Clay cupped her face, forcing her to lean into him. “I can think of a few things that might work.”

“It’s the lack of nookie for all these years, isn’t it? Now that we’ve freed the beast, so to speak, you’re all hog wild.”

He looked almost offended. “Do you really think that’s what it is?”

“Look, I won’t kid myself into thinking it doesn’t have at least a little something to do with it. I mean, centuries is a long time to not . . . well, you know. And even if no one would label me beautiful, I’m not butt ugly. So yeah, I think that’s what it is. And I’m an adult. I consented, and I have no regrets.” There. Nice and tidy.

“After all the years I was celibate, and despite the fact that Hildegard isn’t ugly, either, I never caved to even her. That should tell you something. Not all men think with just their junk.”

Warmth curled her toes, and threatened to get carried away. “It tells me you want me to believe that you’re really spiteful and you held out with Hildegard because you hate what she did to you. But you are a man and I haven’t done to you what Hildegard did. I’m the lesser of your two evil mates,” she joked.

His hand found the curve of her hip, kneading it with a gentle motion. “So what would you say if I told you I’m a man who finds you very attractive? I’m not sure who or what made you think that you weren’t. And there are other ways to find relief, Casey. All-out screwing doesn’t always have to be a part of that,” he murmured close to her lips.

Right. Bendy Bob.

“So how about you just let me find you attractive, and we’ll go from there.”

“You just want to wonk again. It’s like potato chips, you know. Once you have one, you want to eat the whole bag,” she half teased, allowing his tongue to run along her lips, welcoming the shiver he created.

“After last night, I won’t deny you’re addictive,” he muttered, gravelly hot, squashing any words she might have left by dragging her to him and suckling her lower lip until her arms slid up under his.

Her moan was of need, a need no one had fulfilled thus far quite like Clay. His return groan was thick, heavy with his own needs as he slipped his hands beneath her T-shirt and ran them over her ribs. Delicious ripples slid along the surface of her skin while he skimmed her hips, the tops of her thighs, teasing her, taunting until she squirmed.

Instead of waiting, Casey took the initiative, dragging the zipper of his jeans down, tugging at them to push them to his feet. He kicked them off, leaving him in his boxer-briefs and tight-fitting sweater. Her hands skimmed his pecs through the material, relishing the hard planes of his chest, grazing the top of his underwear, trailing a finger along the hair that led to his groin.

His hand wrapped around her wrist, guiding her to his shaft, encouraging her to circle it, stroke it. Clay stiffened as she made contact, moaning his pleasure when she knelt before him, hooking her thumbs on the top of his briefs and tearing them from his torso.

The thick length of him was long, silken, as she ran her cheek against the smooth skin, brushing it before tasting him.

Clay’s hands went to her head, threading his fingers through her hair, clinging to it when she finally took him in her mouth. With a slow downward pass, she licked at him, caressing the length of his cock, pulling him between her lips, then letting go while his hips rotated, grinding against her mouth.

Cupping his testicles, she rolled them between her fingers while she took long drags of his cock. His murmuring became unintelligible when she gripped him with firm hands, dragging her tongue along him, over and over until he hissed, yanking back and hauling her upward.

Their eyes met, glazed and stormy—locked as he drew her T-shirt over her head and pulled off his sweater. His hands were everywhere all at once, light, hard, fast, slow, hauling her to him until her aching nipples crushed against the smooth skin of his chest. His lips found her neck, nibbling, sucking the skin in his mouth, wetting it with his hot tongue.

And the tension in her grew, coiling in her belly, anticipating. Casey jolted forward when he took her nipple into his mouth, wrapping his lips around it while sliding his tongue over the rigid surface. A hot moan slipped from her open mouth. She gasped when Clay’s hand slid into her panties, spreading her sex, thumbing her clit, making her lift her leg higher to experience every sensation he offered. Her arms encompassed his head, pulling him closer, driving her breast into his mouth, begging for more.

Limbs entwined, Clay bent at the knees, taking her with him to the floor. He spread her thighs, scanned her body with wicked eyes, hot in the dark room.

For the first time in her limited sexual experience, she didn’t shy away from Clay’s molten gaze. She let him look his fill, cried out when he dipped his head between her thighs and took a long, heated lick of her clit. He raised his head to capture her eyes once more. Catching the light, they held emotions she didn’t recognize, swirling and fiery just before he took her in his mouth again, making her rear up against the raspy silk of his tongue.

Clay’s strokes were urgent, a mingling of light and soft, bringing her to the brink of orgasm, only to ease back. The word
please
was on the tip of her tongue when he drove a finger into her, and then she lost all sense of reason. Bucking her hips against his tongue, she came with a hard swell of blood pulsing to her ears, and lava running through her veins. Her back bowed upward, her nipples tightened to unbearably stiffened peaks while she rode out a climax that engaged all five senses.

Clay didn’t give her time to recover. He was under her in seconds, setting her on the thickness of him, driving into her, tearing the breath from her lungs. The muscles of his chest tensed when he entered her slick passage, tightening beneath her fingers. Fingers that dug into his skin, clinging to him while their hips ground out a rhythm toward completion.

Her clit scraped with decadent friction against the crisp hair surrounding his cock, adding another layer of sensation to an already mounting need. He allowed her to take control, moving as one with her until she saw his teeth grit, his fangs grow. Rather than frighten her, it aroused her beyond measure.