Wicked Road to Hel (League of Guardians 1)

She growled against his lips and then opened fully beneath him, not caring of the consequence, only knowing that the fire Declan had started was going to be a bitch to put out.

Her legs were entwined around his waist and she clung to him like a child as he continued to kiss her long and hard, each pass of his tongue pulling on a chord deep within her that was so painful it was exquisite.

Erotic images played in her mind, of naked limbs and dark eyes. That he could do this to her with just a kiss was insane, and as she continued to gyrate against him, she ignored the alarm bells ringing in her ears.

She’d never had such a kiss, and though she’d envisioned this in her mind countless times as they’d been bunkered down working missions the world over, the real deal was so much more intense than she’d ever dreamed.

She groaned into him and when her incisors broke skin and slid out, she paused. Slowly his tongue lapped at their length, but then he pulled away, taking his warmth with him.

Outside the last of the cicadas played their sad lament, their song riding the breeze until the echoes faded into nothing.

Declan’s eyes were like mirrors of chocolate. They shimmered with a brilliance that was mesmerizing. Silence fell between the two of them and they stared at each other for several long moments. His face was unreadable, closed.

He set her back down upon the counter and Ana hated that she felt empty. Cheated. His blood still sang to her, teasing with the unknown. His pulse was steady and she licked her lips as she eyed his jugular.

“I’ll stay and help the boy.” Declan pulled away and the moment was over. He was all business now.

“That’s it?” Her nipples ached and they strained against the black tank top she wore. She fought the urge to run her hands along the taut peaks.

He crooked his head to the side and her eyes rested upon the classic bone structure that he’d been gifted with. Declan O’Hara was every woman’s fantasy, every dark, tortured inch of him.

She couldn’t help herself, and her gaze slid down the length of his body.

“Did you want more?” His voice was like silk and she saw the smirk that hugged the corner of his mouth. What the hell was wrong with her?

“No!” she protested much too quickly, and as his smile deepened Ana fought the urge to slam her fist upside his head.

“The next time I put my mouth on your body I intend to take my time and indulge.”

Ana jumped off the counter. “There won’t be a next time. You’re not my type, remember?” Liar, everything about him is your type.

Declan was nearly out the door. “Yeah, and your eyes are not tattooed to my ass right now.”

She blushed, which was something she’d not done in decades.

“Where are you going?” She winced at the whine that accompanied her words. Did she have to sound so desperate?

“Wards must be put in place if you’re to be protected. I’ll be outside.” The door slammed, and it echoed into the now-quiet room.

What the hell had just happened? Wearily she rubbed her eyes, and it was saying something that she was in fact tired.

What the hell had Bill been thinking?

“If something happens to Kaden I’ll never forgive myself,” she whispered. In the space of a few hours her life had changed course in a way she’d never thought possible, all of it defined by two words, Declan O’Hara. He was a complication she wasn’t sure she was strong enough to deal with.

She turned off the light and stood in the dark for a few moments, her fingers against her lips as she gazed out the window into the dark. She thought of her brother Jean-Charles, and her gut tightened as bittersweet melancholy hit her hard.

If she wasn’t careful she’d end up just like him. Lost forever.

The damp was biting and fog was rolling in as Declan worked feverishly to get some heavy-duty protection wards in place. Latent energy hung in the air—it stank of demon and otherworld. He couldn’t deny the potency of it, nor the pull he felt as he inhaled its stench and let it settle in his chest.

The darkness was seductive, powerful, and for the moment he’d use it, manipulate it for his own purposes. What the hell. He’d always been an opportunist, and right now he could use a bit of extra mojo.

Declan slipped between the shadows that bordered the large home, every sense alert as he carefully made his way to the backyard. The gloom was pierced by a ray of light that shone from a window above and yet the lower level now appeared to be in darkness.

He drew charms into the air, exotic designs that glistened in the darkness. They hung in luminescent shadow, like the thinnest thread of a spider’s weave, and then disappeared as the magick took hold.

Declan concentrated and infused his spells with many intricate layers of protection. He knew they were strong—probably the strongest he’d ever conjured—but with a demon lord like Samael after Ana and the boy, he wasn’t taking any chances.