Desire Unchained

He could still hear her whispering sexy, naughty things in his ear. The sound of her voice took him deeper into relaxation, lulling him more than the alcohol ever could.

“What. The. Hell?” Gem’s voice drifted to him, crisp and clear.

He peeled open his eyes just enough to see her standing in the living room, arms crossed over her breasts, which were pushed up into two plump mounds by the midnight-blue corset she wore. If she turned around, he’d bet her skirt would barely cover her ass. Her chunky, high-heeled boots came up over her knees, leaving only her thighs touchably bare.

She’d braided her hair into two ponytails, put on a spiked leather dog collar and black lipstick, and she looked like she was ready to party. Why that thought sent a stab of jealousy through him, he had no idea.

Then again, he was sitting on his couch, drunk, with a vampire latched on to his wrist. Clearly, he was fucked in the head.





Holy shit, Gem thought. This was … unexpected. Kynan was sprawled on the couch, legs spread, left arm propped on the armrest. Next to him, kneeling on the floor, was Wraith, his mouth firmly attached to Ky’s wrist. When he looked up, his eyes glinted with mischief.

“And I repeat, what the hell? What is going on here?”

Kynan gazed at her with slumberous eyes that made her body flood with heat. “What’s it look like?”

She glared at Wraith. “Looks like someone was too lazy to order a pizza delivery guy for dinner.”

Wraith disengaged his hold and smacked his lips. “This is better. Home cooking.” He held her gaze as he licked the punctures in Kynan’s wrist to seal them. Slowly. Sensually. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry.

Wraith knew. Knew she wanted Kynan, was toying with her because he was aware of the fact that she wanted to be the one licking the human. And when his nostrils flared, she knew he could smell her arousal.

“Why are you here?” Ky’s voice was husky, lazy, as if he’d just woken up. He’d have a great morning voice.

“Wraith called me.”

Ky shot Wraith a you’re-going-to-get-it look, but Wraith just shrugged and leaped nimbly to his feet. “What? I called while you were in the bathroom. Didn’t think you should be alone. And I gotta go. I need more than the measly pint you gave up.” He headed for the door. “Later.”

Throwing his head back to look at the ceiling fan as it spun in slow circles, Kynan heaved a sigh. “Shit.”

“Shit, is right. What were you thinking? You didn’t do something dumb, like ask him to turn you into a vampire or something, right?”

“I might be guilty of poor judgment, but I’m not stupid or suicidal.”

“Well, don’t get stupid or suicidal, because I don’t think Wraith can turn anyone. He’s not technically undead.”

Kynan threw his arm over his eyes. “Ever think about that, Gem? You know, wonder what kind of person would trust a vampire enough to drain them to the point of death? I mean, what’s to stop a vamp from just leaving them for dead instead of giving them the exchange of the vamp’s own blood?”

“I’m sure that happens.” She looked into his kitchen, which was basically a cove in the corner of his living room. “I’ll get you something to drink. You need to hydrate. And a little tip? Next time you decide to donate blood, give to the Red Cross.”

He said nothing as she searched his fridge, came up with Gatorade, and poured a glass. When she returned to him, he was in the same position, eyes closed, though he’d dropped his arm. She planted one knee on the cushion next to him, lifted his head, and put the glass to his lips.

He emptied half the glass before opening his eyes. “Thank you.”

“Well, you couldn’t very well hydrate on beer,” she said, eyeing the bottles scattered on the end table and floor.

His smile was lopsided as he tugged on one of her braids. Her pulse jumped wildly. “You ever get drunk, Gem? Ever lose yourself in a bottle and hope to drown?”

Abruptly, she became aware of the heat of his outer thigh against her knee, the stroke of his fingers over the braid, the hot fan of his breath across her cheek. “No,” she whispered. “I can’t.”

“You get sick?”

“Yes,” she lied, because she couldn’t tell him the truth. Not now, when he seemed to have forgotten what she was.

Which was a demon of the Fifth Tier, the last, worst level on the Ufelskala, a scoring system for evil. If the demons of her species were tornadoes, they’d be F5s.

That she was only half demon made little difference to her, or to Kynan. She did what she could to contain her Soulshredder half, which included having ensorcelled restraining tattoos inked around her ankles, wrists, and neck. She also avoided alcohol. Drinking reduced her ability to control the demon within.