Chapter 3: Fallon

Disappointment is the furthest thing from what I’m feeling as my gaze lazily trails up and down the hulking male before me. Pride would be more accurate. Success in ruining that Alpha of theirs enough that he couldn’t even drag himself here to try to kill little old me. No, that broken coward sent his second. His Beta. Liam Rowlyn. I’ve watched him from afar for years. Golden brown, close-cropped hair. Eyes deep and dark like charcoal. Shoulders and chest so broad he’d give professional football players a run for their money. He’s a tall boy too, like so many of the male werewolves, his form still surely towering over my five-feet-seven.

If you ask me, Liam should have been Alpha. He could have been, but tragedy ruined him for a time. Forcing him into mourning and a darkness so complete, his pack almost lost him to it. His pain at being in such close proximity to me, nearly radiates off him, permeating the room and seeping into the pores of my skin. A slow grin spreads, my features likely transforming from welcome to wicked. It’s time for a little fun.

“Come sit.” I pat the seat next to me. “Just like the good dog you are.”

One by one, those long thick fingers curl into fists at his sides. His only outward sign that he’s fighting to control the beast within. Doing everything he can not to make my death quick, by ripping me to shreds in seconds. Defiance straightens his spine, as he stays where he’s been. Booted feet driving into the Persian rug under them. My lip twitches, just thinking of the filth he’s carried in with those well-worn soles. Those mangy animals and their love for nature.

“Liam, I am trying to be a good host. Please come sit.”

“Fallon, I’m not here for your games.” The muscles in his jaw tick. An accelerated rhythm, giving away just how much that mask of control is slipping.

“No, you’re not.” I stand, swishing my hips as I approach him. “You’re here to kill me.”

A black nail scrapes under his chin, his Adam’s apple bobbing in response. Very interesting. I would expect him to be repulsed by my touch, but he’s intrigued by it. One of the perks of being a demon is how well we can read every emotion, every tell of the body’s involuntary response. There’s no hiding anything from us. There’s no hiding from us. Your secrets will become ours in no time. “So do it,” I prod, fingers trailing down his chest.

His breath hitches before he can catch himself. Strong fingers wrapping around my wrist to halt me from touching him any further. He may want to know what my bare hands feel like on his warm skin, but he certainly won’t allow it. Pity. That would be the best sort of game. Making this werewolf fall for his enemy. Betray his pack. Disregard his past. Let go of every bit of self-respect he has for himself.

Just like that, my original plan of grief and gore seems childish. Weak. This new attack is one that will hurt so much more. One that will tear apart the Chicago pack. How can they trust their Beta, if he’s fucking a demon - their worst enemy? Dark joy blossoms in my gut, all the souls that live there writhe in protest. Pushing closer to him, my palm flattens against his chest once more, his skin heating mine, sending warmth to my most intimate area. I may loathe his kind, but I am still a woman and a sexy man in front of me can still encourage those wants and needs.

“Get your hands off me, soul sucker,” he seethes. Spittle slipping past his bared teeth as he growls at me. The urge to run my tongue over the tip of his canine pulls my face closer to his, my chin tilted up. Tongue ready to exit past my heart-shaped lips. He suddenly releases me, his shove enough for me to stumble back a step. He will be tough to convince, but already he responds to me in the way a lover would. It’s curious.

“Follow me, dog.”

Stomping towards the back of the condo, I lead the way to my office. The obsidian walls flickering in the dark as the light from the city catches the embedded flecks of silver. In contrast to the black walls, a large L-shaped white marble desk, streaks of ash creating the same swirls of the soul leaving the body, sits near the far wall, backed by floor to ceiling windows. Tapping a button on my phone, light brightens the room, Liam’s figure filling the doorway, blocking the space beyond.

Perching on the edge of the desk, I wait for him to enter. To speak. To knock me back into the unforgiving surface and drive a dagger into my heart. Or even his dick into my core. That would be preferable to the knife. Despite what many think of demons, we aren’t actually dead, not really. Our souls belong to the devil, but our bodies are held in a suspension of life, something like a purgatory. It means, like any other creature, we can die, we can procreate, we need nourishment. We’re not as different as the other creatures of the world may think. But lore is strong when you’re not human, so let them believe as they will.

“Do you have something to say?” I goad, crossing my toned arms just under my breasts.

His chest pumps several times before he charges forward, hand wrapping tight around my throat. I do nothing to stop him, wanting his hands on me as much as I want to seduce him, so mine can do the same. It’s game on and I am ready to play. “We’ve never killed your young, Demon. Why ours?”

Attempting to slap his hand away, his squeezes, the pressure making it just that much more difficult to swallow. The air restricted. “A little tighter. I like it rough,” a cackle leaves me. Narrowing eyes lock with mine, the gray darkening to near black. Another feature our kind share. Their eyes gradually going in and out of darkened states as the full moon nears. Ours darkening as the souls slither free. He’s a smart one, keeping his face far from mine, barely parting his lips as his words escaped.

“Look, Beta, we’re at war. Your kind kills mine and we do the same in return. If you’re looking for us to respect what age, sex or size you mutts are before we slaughter them, you’re barking up the wrong tree.” Pushing against the force of his grip, I lean forward enough for my lips to brush his ear, a shiver ricocheting through his body as they do. “If you want to know just what type of power play I’m making, I’ll never tell.” My tongue flicks against the ridge of his ear, his grip immediately releasing as he trips backward.

“Keep your hands and mouth off me.” His scowl pronounced enough to make a lesser being cower at his feet.

“Somehow, Liam, I’m not sure you entirely mean that.”

He doesn’t move as I saunter towards him, hands running up his chest, the muscles rippling beneath my touch. Our considerable height difference forces my head back as I lock eyes with him. His dilating in response to my stare. He may not want to be attracted to me, but he is. This will be so much easier than I could have ever imagined. My fingers snake up the nape of his neck, knotting around the strands there and pulling his face down towards mine.

For what could be minutes or hours, we’re frozen, breathing each other in. It doesn’t escape my intrigue that he’s not pulled away yet. All it takes is a thought of intent from me, to start pulling his human and wolf souls from his insides through the slight part of his full lips. But I don’t want his soul. I want to make him bow at my feet and beg for me in every way possible. I want him to fall so hard he has no choice but to turn his back on his own kind, for a connection he believes we have. There’s nothing, just my amusement.

It’s unclear who moves first, him or me. Our lips collide. Him breathing me in as our flesh molds against one another. Large hands grip under my voluptuous ass, lifting me effortlessly, my legs instantly wrapping around his waist. I may be playing a game, but kissing him is igniting my insides with a need I haven’t truly scratched in some time. I may love fucking like anyone else, but I generally will not allow myself to be in such a vulnerable position. A moan escapes me, an invitation for him to slide his hot tongue into my mouth, mine dancing alongside his.

Strong arms pull me impossibly closer, my peaked nipples searching out the roughness of the shirt he wears. I’m caught up in the moment enough, it barely registers when he throws me from him, my lower back colliding with the edge of my desk. Bracing my hands against the hard surface, I keep from falling. Our panting breaths the music filling the otherwise quiet room. Our chests rapidly rising and falling in the most exaggerated way. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he points a finger at me.

“We’re not done, Demon.” My race a curse on his lips. “That won’t happen again. Keep your motherfucking hands and mouth to yourself.”

Then he’s gone, storming through the condo, the ding of the elevator the only indicator that I’m alone again.

We’ll see about that wolf boy. We’re certainly not done yet.