Lure of a Demon

RAY

Four Months Later…

Her eyes glowed yellow, and I won’t pretend I didn’t love it when she did that.

Ilsa was a fast learner, and she had learned to focus her inner demon instincts a lot faster than I had when I came to Earth. But then again, Ilsa had a lot more self-control than I did, in general.

If anything, I’ve learned that.

It was still something I liked to try to break—her control—to see how far I could push her before she lost it, and this was one of those days. I had aggravated her enough, her eyes flared yellow, not quite enough for the pupils to change into the black cat-like slits, so she still hung on to whatever thread of control she had left.

Smirking, I knew I’d break it.

If anyone could annoy her enough to make her lose her fucking mind, it was me.

And yes, I said that with a level of pride.

“Is that all you’ve got?” I goaded, her lip lifting in a snarl at my resulting giggle.

“Fuck you, Ray,” she cursed.

“Later.” I winked at her, which only irritated her further. She wasn’t in any sort of mood to be dealing with my shit right now.

If that wasn’t an invitation to keep doing it, I didn’t know what was.

I had about half a dozen things I could say, ready and waiting, which would push her over the edge, but I didn’t get the chance. She launched at me, slammed her palms into my shoulders, and knocked me off my feet. Laughing, I used her momentum against her and continued the roll, pulled her over me so I ended up on top of her, crashed her back against the floor, and pinned her down. The growl she released was animal, and I giggled again. Perhaps she didn’t have the level of control she thought she did.

Ilsa only seemed to be in control of her demon when she was in control of the situation. Take that away from her, and she became more animal than woman.

And I loved it.

Two months ago, we had bonded, the process of becoming mates. She was hesitant to drink my blood, sure she was going to get some of my memories the way I had hers. But it didn’t work like that. Only demons had that reaction to humans—not even with other demons did it work. It was a tool to induce terror and learn what we needed to about our human victims, nothing more.

After the second time of drinking my blood, we were bonded, and I had to teach her to control her inner demon the way I’d had to learn when I came to Earth. Something I had to focus on harder since I’d decided to stay. There was nothing for me in Hell. Nothing like Ilsa.

Now, she was stronger, more powerful, her senses sharpened, and her lifespan extended.

She was mine, and I was hers.

Just how I liked it.

After leaving Emrick’s employ, my concern was I wouldn’t be able to keep my bloodlust and need for violence controlled. But after the bonding, the solution presented itself to us.

We fight each other.

It led to better sex too.

Emrick stopped giving a shit when I stopped tearing apart his clubhouses. Tate said he didn’t trust me anyway, which was fine, because I didn’t trust any of them. The issue wasn’t gone forever. I’m sure I was now on some low-key shitlist of Emrick’s. It didn’t bother me much, though it bothered Ilsa. I could tell by the way she pursed her lips when we went near the club or his name was mentioned.

He’d come after me one day, I was sure of it.

Wasn’t he in for a shock when he came across my new Ilsa?

Wrapping my fingers around Ilsa’s throat, I goaded her some more. “Come on, soldier, you should be able to control yourself better than this.”

She hissed at me again. The more frustrated she grew, the sloppier her skills became. The more mistakes she made during a fight, the more shit I gave her about it. It was a vicious cycle, but if she was going to lecture me about keeping control, then she better get used to me pushing her buttons until she lost it. What’s more, I loved how freely she gave into the newly acquired demon side of her, the way she openly let it mold to her body rather than fighting it. I’d heard bonding could be difficult on humans sometimes, on the rare occasions I had heard of it occurring. But Ilsa was perfect, in more ways than one, and her training and self-control lent itself perfectly to learning how to handle her new powers.

Ilsa tried to move me off her using the same maneuver she had when we first met, and I had her in the same position, but despite her increased strength, it didn’t work this time. She settled for going limp, perhaps hoping I’d let up on her.

Fat chance.

When I continued to increase the pressure on her neck, her eyes flashed again, and her hands flew to my wrists, sinking her nails into my skin until she drew blood. Leaning forward, I licked a droplet of blood off my skin before pushing my tongue into her mouth. She fought, but her hold on me relaxed as she moaned openly into my mouth.

“That’s not the instinct we’re currently working on,” she whispered against my lips.

“Oh?” I mumbled, kissing my way along her neck. “What makes you think you’re in charge here?”

She got me this time, wrapping both legs around my waist and flipping me over. While she hadn’t regained full movement of her injured leg, it was certainly much better than it had been before the bonding. Demon’s accelerated healing had allowed some of the damaged nerves to heal, and she had regained almost full mobility.

When Ilsa leaned over me, I thought she was going to kiss me again, but she simply hovered her lips over mine, driving me wild with her scent. Lifting herself off me, I grunted as she used my shoulders to push herself upright before dancing across the room, waving her ass at me in a tease that was meant to enrage.

It did.

When I growled at her, she chuckled, knowing she had turned the tables. All my teasing and big talk were lost the moment her lips were on mine, and I tasted her again. It made the fight seem pointless when all I wanted to do was take her pants down and have her naked in front of me—or under me, or on top of me—I didn’t care. I simply wanted her to be naked.

Perhaps Ilsa understood the importance of these fights more than I, or perhaps she simply enjoyed the fact if she kept it going and kept pushing me to fight with her when I had lost interest, that I hate it.

It was probably revenge for all the times I gave her a hard time, which were a lot, and it wasn’t going to end any time soon.

Ilsa crouched into a defensive stance, her body turned partially to the side and her head tilted down. I could see the sweat glistening in her cleavage, the tight black sports bra hiding nothing from me. Her eyes had returned to their natural and beautiful brown, but the twinkle in them told me she was far from done.

“You ready?” she asked.

“When I get you…” I hissed, “… you know I’m going to tear your clothes off, right?”

She grinned. “Bring it on.”

And when she beckoned me with her finger, I was on her.

The End