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Both men stalked several feet ahead of me, but I slowed behind them, gaze tracking back to the alley the figure once stood in. To where the demon who stalked me once was. No one appeared when I looked over, not like I expected them to, but then suddenly I wasn't where I'd been standing before.
Instead, I was looking out over the cityscape, fifty floors up, miles and miles away from the place I'd been with Aidan and Ty. For a second, I just breathed in fresh air and the water of a nearing rain. I tasted the electricity on my flesh and tongue. I lived for a moment in that feeling, the impending storm. Then I pivoted and stared into the familiar emerald irises that had made their way into my dreams.
I went to grip my bat, but it was gone. And when I hurried to remove the blades hiding inside my coat, the demon was in front of me, one hand locked on my wrist and the other on my neck, his strength somehow immobilizing me.
"Na-ah. I know how deadly you are with a bat and dagger," his smooth voice whispered, the intense seduction of its sound like chocolate to the ears. "You won't believe me, but I'm not here to hurt you. I'm here to implore you. To entreat you. To convince you to fight beside me."
The hand on my neck wasn't violent or rough; it was gentle in a way no other man's hand had ever been. It asserted dominance but not absolute authority. It spoke of power but a willingness to subjugate.
His touch was a complete contradiction.
What surprised me most out of the entire situation was how little I fought him. How little I moved. How easily I fell under his spell, like I was always meant to. Like every moment led me to this one. Like it was two pieces of the same puzzle finally fitting together.
"Who are you?"
His glistening green irises caught sparks of lightning breaking across the sky as the thunderstorm took hold of the city. It was seconds before the demon answered. His lips slid up, eyes straying to the sky, and his fingers caressed my neck, almost as if he couldn't help himself. When his eyes returned, the iridescent glow of emerald-green bled to violent, blood-red.
"You can call me Nova."
3
Sinful Urges
“NOVA?” I ASKED, MESMERIZED BY the liquid blood color of his eyes. "Well, what's your real aim? I'm not bought and sold with this 'I implore you' talk."
The demon's lips swept up—a smile as potent as his immobilizing maneuver—and his suit shifted in the increasing wind. A loud clap of thunder and bright illumination of lightning outlined his powerful, athletic figure as we stood face-to-face in the midst of a storm. "I'd expect nothing less."
His voice did something to me. It brought out a long-buried urge. Something carnal. Something uncontrollable and illicit. Something doused in sin and darkness.
Something I'd come to regret.
I stood there, under whatever spell or magical hold he had over me, unsure of my next move.
This was all new for me—knowing I should be fighting or cleverly orchestrating my escape. Or, at the very least, doing something that wasn't standing like a total asshole in front of a powerful demon, eyes locked with his. Still, I didn't rue my terrible luck or wish to get away. If anything, I wanted him to touch me more.
The fingers around my throat tightened. "That sensation, that urge inside of you right now, it's why I'm here."
I swallowed, a soft sigh escaping my mouth, as Nova bent his head down. The electric light caught one side of his face, giving it a brilliant glow before everything went dark again and only his blood-red eyes remained luminous. Those wicked eyes stayed with mine before our mouths collided.
It didn't make sense, none of it. Kissing some man, a demon no less, who I didn't know. Who I was sure planned to kill me or worse. Who I should already be attacking and killing myself. It was quite literally the definition of insanity. But much of my life hadn't made sense from the very beginning.
Not the fact that I was abandoned from birth and never adopted. Not the fact that every man I attempted to trust took advantage of me, physically in most cases. Not the fact that every memory I had of my childhood was full of sadness and disgusting realities that no child should ever suffer. But the hatred, the vengeance, the desire to kill Nova melted away the second our lips met.
The kiss was hungrier than I expected. More than that, I didn't cower or recoil from it. I didn't wish to flee or retreat inside my head. Not like I did with every other kiss I was forced to be a part of.
I wanted to feel every sensation and stimulation again and again, over and over, until nothing else registered. I wanted to explore and taste the delectable mouth fused with mine. To incite gasps and groans. To dominate and be dominated, thereby becoming every known and unknown contradiction I could possibly be.
It was a kiss that inspired me to reach out and touch him when his hand finally released mine. I caressed the expensive fabric of his shirt and tasted the cool metal of his belt with my fingertips. I let the palm of my hand take his shape and mold over strong muscle hiding beneath cloth.
And I'd never been so eager to feel someone—never so eager to give into an urge so thoughtless and tragically stupid that it veered on madness. But the sinful urges rising into my throat and guiding my actions were too tempting to resist.
I gave in.
I surrendered to sin.
I'd regret it later, but I didn't have a choice anymore. The second Nova's lips touched mine, I was conquered, and the fear of what it'd all inevitably do to me faded to whispers.
Nova's mouth smiled against mine before he led my arm around his wide shoulders, fitting it around him like it was always meant to be there. As soon as I eased forward, his hand took hold of my waist and yanked us together, impossibly close. His grip tightened around my neck, but the sensation of it wasn't dangerous or scary.
