Page 47 of Feral Possession

“Sssoft.” His scorched fingers abraded her thigh and her brain went fuzzy.

“Hey, now.” She squirmed. “Getting kind of personal. How about you let me go and we’ll talk. If you’re curious, I’ll tell you anything you want to know about me. My life is an open book.”

He ignored her, continuing to stroke her leg. Gah. He rubbed her like the pet he’d accused her of being. This was so wrong.

Anger slid through her system, melting her frozen limbs. “Listen, I’m not sure about your world, but where I’m from, it’s not acceptable to grab women and fondle them. As a matter of fact, there are some very strict laws against this sort of harassment.” Unless you were in a nightclub on spring break, sandwiched between Armond and his hot boyfriend. Which totally wasn’t the case here.

“Host. Hungersss.” Once more, he ignored her, bent on solving some mystery. Before she could formulate another argument for her release, he added, “For you.”

She opened her mouth and snapped it shut, her pulse quickening. “Excuse me?”

“Hungersss. For you.”

Marcus peered down at her, brow furrowed. Intense look on his demonic face. No. She gritted her teeth. No! Not Marcus. This was not Marcus. He may resemble Marcus. More or less, if her benefactor ever trusted her enough to ditch his hood. Trusted her enough to be this close to her. But what if it was Marcus? Holding her, caressing her thigh. Telling her she smelled good. He certainly looked like Marcus. Ummm. Smelled like Marcus. Felt like…

“Why?” The demon interrupted her fantasy. Again.

“Why?” she asked, a snap of indignation in her tone. Sure, she was nothing like Carina, but she wasn’t that hard on the eyes. For starters, she had a fabulous sense of style and an ass that—

“Why deny hunger?” Shadow-Steele derailed her runaway thoughts, pressing his hand to his beautifully defined abs. Not that she’d looked. Much.

“Oh,” she said without thinking, then processed his words. “Ohhhh. Hunger. Gotcha.” The tips of her ears warmed. Of course Marcus didn’t hunger for her. How silly. She really should have taken a moment to rub out that flame Xavier had stoked at dinner. Darn that incubus and his pheromones.

She racked her befuddled brain for an answer before settling on, “It’s complicated.”

“No,” Shadow-Steele stated, his growling tone firm.

“No?”

“Not complicated.” His husky voice became a low purr. Which was kind of nice, she had to admit.

Again, he nuzzled the side of her head. Jeez. If he liked her shampoo so much, she’d get him a bottle. Let him rub it all over his sexy… Gah! There she went again. Curse you, Xavier.

Next, he moved to her ear, making those deep, rumbly noises. Her eyes rolled back, goose bumps rising. “Um, hey. Shadow demon dude. Maybe we should—”

His lips grazed her throat, soft, teasing. Apparently, her demon could be gentle when he chose. Amazing. Mere hours ago, she’d pictured Marcus this way. Wondered how it would feel to have his arms around her. His mouth pressed intimately against her flesh. Was it so wrong of her to simply enjoy the moment?

Fangs pierced her neck and she gasped, clutching her hand to the back of his head. Euphoria washed over her. Sweet venom, it was a vampire’s aphrodisia. Sure, the demon was calling the shots, but the man who held her was all vampire. Endorphins carried her away on a fluffy cloud. His groan said he’d felt it too. After all, vampires connected with the body and spirit when they fed. In the right hands, it was a beautiful experience. This was what Marcus had denied them both. Why? She couldn’t fathom.

Her demon drank deeply from her, nourished his damaged body. As he should. She was his Chosen. This was how it was meant to be. Her tension eased, muscles relaxing. At last, they were connected. The bond they shared, soothing.

Thoughts grew fuzzy, her limbs loose and heavy. Exhaustion pressed in and her eyelids drooped. The niggling sense that something was wrong stabbed beneath her bliss. Tired? Heavy? Fuzzy?

“Marcus?”

He gripped her tighter, drawing heavily from her vein. No! Adrenaline zinged through her system. This wasn’t Marcus. It was a demon who’d possessed her benefactor, taken possession of his body. He was an inexperienced entity with zero control.

“Stop.” She shoved against his shoulder. “It’s too much. You have to stop.” A low growl rumbled against her neck.

Oh, no, you don’t. She tapped into the dark well at her core. This power, it was hers. Given to her by her faerie ancestors. Like the rest of her weakened body, it was slow to warm up. Her gift trickled up from deep inside of her. It would have to do. Dark energy surged outward from her body, surrounding her and the spirit.

In an otherworldly voice, she commanded, “Release me.”

The demon at her throat flinched and withdrew his bite. Caught in her thrall, he threw back his head, roaring.

In his moment of distraction, Dove wrenched free and tumbled from his arms. She crab-walked, putting space between them. Wide-eyed, she stared at the beast.

Free of her influence, Shadow-Steele stood before the threshold of her carefully constructed ward. His muscular body throbbed with power. Red veins pulsed beneath his charred flesh. Light bulbs exploded, casting the room into thick shadows. The darkness deepened and Dove sank into it, a woman drowning.

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