Eve stared after Lazarus, stunned. What just happened?
His face had been contorted in agony, filled with rage. She’d seen him struggling with his demon before, but nothing like this. Something was terribly wrong.
Eve ran out of the apartment after him.
At the bottom of the stairs, she pushed open the door and entered the club. The room was dimly lit, empty. No leather, no half-naked bodies writhing on the dance floor. No Lazarus.
A moan had her whipping around to the left toward the private rooms. Before she could think better of it, she started toward the anguished sound.
She stopped in front of a glossy red door just as a low rumble vibrated from behind it, through it. That sound, God, it hit every nerve ending in her body, lifting goose bumps all over her skin. Her step faltered.
You can do this, Eve.
Taking a deep breath, she ignored her apprehension and pushed on, an unexplainable need to find Lazarus propelling her forward.
He needed her. Somehow, she knew he needed her.
The low rumble was constant now and deep enough to shake the heavy wood. It sounded like growling, like some kind of wild animal prowled on the other side, desperate to get out.
The logical part of her brain told her to turn around, to get the hell out of there, but Lazarus was on the other side of that door and the longer she stood out here the more he suffered.
Not knowing what she might walk in on, but desperate to get to Lazarus, she ignored her anxiety, gripped the handle, and opened the door.
A roar rent the air and froze her to the spot before she’d barely taken a step. The room was small. Several wooden and iron structures filled the limited space, but the largest piece was a heavy wooden table.
That’s where she found Lazarus, or what had been Lazarus, stretched out on its hard surface.
His wrists and ankles were chained down by some kind of metal cuffs, and a thick leather strap circled his middle, restraining him further. Teeth gritted, he thrashed and snarled, fighting against his bonds.
The shredded remains of his clothes lay scattered on the floor, half covered by his large charcoal wings that had sprouted from under his back. They draped over the sides of the bench, taking up most of the floor space. The wall-mounted lights caught the tiny flecks of silver that appeared to be threaded through each of one of his dark feathers. But most shocking of all was his body’s complete transformation. His skin was leathery and deep crimson. Horns protruded from his head, just above his hairline, and his lips were curled back, revealing large fangs that extended halfway down his chin. He looked like a gargoyle from the top of one of those gothic-style buildings.
A movement had her gaze slicing to the other side of the room. Brent stood there, his eyes locked on Lazarus.
“How? What…what’s wrong with him?” she choked out.
Lazarus stilled, his head turning on his thick neck toward her. Eve took a startled step back. His irises were huge, the whites of his eyes barely visible. Every bit of the emerald green color had been swallowed by midnight. He stared at her, eyes wide and unblinking as air hissed through his teeth in harsh, rapid exhales.
Brent grabbed her arm. “You need to leave.”
An inhuman roar tore from Lazarus’s throat. “Do not touch her.” His voice echoed around the room in an eerie way that sent shivers across her entire body. His gaze tracked Brent and did not waver until he removed his hand and moved away from her.
“I won’t touch her again.” Brent lifted his hands in the air. “See, I’m not touching her.”
Those midnight irises slid back to her and continued to stare with an intensity that was terrifying and made her feel as though he could see deep inside her. “What happened to him?”
“It’s his demon. Lazarus has succumbed.” Brent scrubbed his hands over his face. “This is all kinds of fucked up.”
Oh God. This was her fault. He’d told her what he needed from her. But she’d been so busy nursing her own wounds, working hard to punish him for hurting her, she hadn’t considered what could happen.
He hadn’t come to her when he’d needed her help, trying to protect her from any more pain, and now his demon had taken him.
Brent slid his hands into his pockets. “If we can’t bring him back”—he motioned to Lazarus’s writhing form—“this will be permanent.”
“We have to do something.” Again, when she spoke, Lazarus’s thrashing ceased. She turned back as a wave of his intoxicating scent hit her, and sucked in a breath when light flickered behind his eyes, like a light bulb about to blow. Emerald sparks trying to break through the inky black of his irises.
“Say something else,” Brent demanded.
She was frightened out of her mind, but this was Lazarus and he was suffering, so she forced herself to take a tentative step closer. “Lazarus, it’s me. I’m here,” she whispered.
This time the green held for a few seconds before being engulfed once more, sucked beneath those inky pools.
She took in his straining body, all of it, unable to miss the massive erection that lay against his defined, currently crimson stomach. His hips jerked at her scrutiny. Well, as much as they could against the thick leather band around his ribs. He groaned as if her gaze had caressed him, eased his hurt.
“I think it’s helping,” she said, glancing up at Brent.
Brent’s eyebrows rose to meet his hairline. “So, it’s true. You’re Lazarus’s mate?”
She nodded.
“Your voice is forcing back his demon.” He waved her forward while keeping a safe distance himself. “Touching him might help. Just be careful.”
If there was a small chance she could help him, she’d do whatever it took. Taking another step closer, careful not to step on his beautiful wings, she moved to the head of the table. Brent remained silent when she lifted a shaky hand to gently stroke his cheek.
The color of his eyes continued to flicker while he grunted and growled incoherently. Then it started, the purring sound she’d heard him make back at the compound, a deep rumble that vibrated from his chest. He pressed back as much as he could, rubbing his face against her hand.
She carried on stroking him and the sound got louder.
His horns were shiny black and she couldn’t resist touching them as well, running her fingers over a glossy tip. His entire body jerked.
“Don’t stop what you’re doing,” Brent whispered from his spot on the other side of the room.
She continued to speak to him, keeping her voice low and soothing. Then the black washed from his irises for several seconds, and though they were darker than their usual pale green, they were Lazarus’s eyes, and the fear staring back at her broke her heart. Without thinking, she leaned down and kissed his forehead. His skin felt as leathery as it looked and cool against her lips.
“I’m here, Lazarus,” she whispered.
A roar tore from his throat at her words and she staggered back. His body shook then torqued violently on the table. The tendons strained in his neck and across his chest and he jerked several times. Just like that, his body shifted back, besides the wings which still sprouted from his back and lay limp across the floor.
“Lazarus?”
“Don’t stop now, he needs more,” Brent said carefully.
“What should I do?”
Brent’s gaze moved over Lazarus then lifted to hers. “I think you know what he needs, Eve.” His eyes softened. “Will you give it to him?”
Still stroking his heated skin, she took in Lazarus’s magnificent body, hard and straining. Yes, she knew what she had to do. Without looking up, she nodded. She’d do anything to help him, and deep in her heart, she knew he’d do the same for her.
“Don’t stop.” Lazarus’s voice was a mixture of pleasure and pain. He’d responded to her touch, and her body heated, moisture rushing to her sex in reply.
“It’s okay, Brent. I can take it from here.” She couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze.
“Are you sure?” He sounded reluctant to leave. “I can stay. I’ll turn my back.”
Nothing but concern filled his voice. For him, being in a room with others having sex was no big deal.
“Thank you, but I’ll be okay. He won’t hurt me.” Lazarus would never purposely harm her, she knew that much.
“Don’t untie him. The table’s strong and can hold several people at once…” His gaze moved back to Lazarus’s trussed-up form. “Just…be careful.”
She nodded. “I will.”
“I’ll be right outside the door if you need me.” Then he turned and left the room.
Running gentle fingers over his damp skin, Eve looked down at the pained expression on Lazarus’s face. “What should I do?”
He was panting, eyes wild. “Eve…please…I need you.” His body surged up again.
She didn’t know if she really was Lazarus’s mate, but she couldn’t stand to see him this way, and if she could ease his pain she would. She wanted to be the one to help him.
She just wanted him.
The desperate, sounds coming from him sealed her fate. She left the head of the table and moved down his body.
“Don’t leave me.” The agony in his voice shredded her.
“I’m not going anywhere. I promise I won’t leave you.” She reached over and stroked his thigh, trying to comfort him.
His body went completely still, and she looked up. He watched her with those midnight eyes, now shot with sparks of emerald.
The knowledge of what caused that dark gaze sent a shiver down her spine. She pushed the fear to the back of her mind and refused to think about the demonic side of his nature, the side that wanted to dominate the man inside. Lazarus was fighting to regain control of his body and mind, and she would do whatever it took to help the male she cared about far more than she had a right to.
His cock was thick, veins lining his heavy shaft, and she had the sudden urge to bend down and run her tongue along each one, tracing them to the glistening tip.
He writhed under her heated gaze. “Touch me,” he pleaded.
She wrapped her fingers around him, fisted the silky length, and began to stroke him slow and easy, not entirely sure how to proceed. Their gazes locked and the midnight turned to deep green again. He hissed and bucked.
Gasping, he panted out, “Take off your shorts.”
She nodded, unable to speak, and slid them down her legs. His nostrils flared as the cotton pooled at her feet. Then his gaze traveled up her bare legs and zeroed in on her panties. “Take those off as well.”
Her sex clenched, slick from the blatant lust on his face, the undisguised hunger altering his deep voice. It was pure gravel. Doing as he asked, she hooked her finger in the sides and slid the flimsy fabric down her legs.
The metal chains smacked into the wooden table as his big body jerked hard against his restraints. Without conscious thought, Eve took several startled steps back until she hit the wall, rattling the various chains, cuffs, and whips that hung there. His face contorted, but this time it wasn’t physical. He looked tormented by her panicked reaction. He hated what he was doing to her, and the need to reassure him brought her back to his side, bolstering her courage.
“It’s all right. I’m all right.” She didn’t know who she was trying to convince more.
He cursed repeatedly between panted breaths. “Climb up.” The mix of pain and longing in his voice evaporated the last of her fear and replaced it with raw desire.
The table was wide enough for her to climb up beside him, and she straddled his hips. His breathing grew ragged as she moved up to position his engorged flesh. The head brushed her sex, and he hissed, rearing beneath her.
His heavy arms strained against the chains, the corded muscles bunching as he fought against his restraints.
Teeth gritted, chest pumping rapidly, he sucked back oxygen. “Fuck me, Eve. Please.”
She didn’t hesitate at his frantic plea and lowered her body, taking him inside her all the way. Her body stretched to accommodate his large size, the sensation almost too much. Lazarus moaned as her body gripped him tight.
“That’s it. Take all of me, sweetheart.” His foot thumped against the table. “Ah, fuck.”
She bent down and brushed her lips against his, unable to stop herself, and he opened his mouth instantly, hungrily sliding his tongue against hers, deepening the kiss. It was desperate and needy. She felt it, too, and she gave him back what he needed.
Clutching his shoulders, she lifted her upper body slightly and began to move, up and back, trying to keep the pace measured. He went so deep with every stroke she could already feel her inner muscles beginning to ripple around him.
He tried to thrust up and growled in frustration. “Undo the band around my waist.”
She reached down and unlatched the thick leather and it clattered to the floor. She wasn’t afraid of him, not anymore. How could she be after the way he’d reacted to her touch? The chains attached to the manacles around his wrists and ankles appeared to be one length that ran below the table, and as he kicked out with his feet, his wrists slammed down hard against the top of the bench, pulling them down tight, causing the veins in his arms to bulge under the strain.
He kicked against the chains around his legs until he could dig his heels in against the wood beneath and thrust his hips up powerfully to meet hers. She cried out as he repeatedly hit her right where she needed him, slammed their bodies together over and over in a desperate frenzy, racing toward release.
His massive charcoal wings, which up until now had lain unmoving against the floor, lifted. A cool breeze tickled her bare legs and stirred the loose strands of her hair as they moved, beating gently.
Lazarus snarled, the animalistic sound filling the small room before he thrust up, hitting her at an angle that sent stars exploding behind her lids and caused her inner muscles to clamp down hard, kicking off a powerful climax. She screamed his name while her body gripped him tight, clenching repeatedly around his thick length.
When the waves of pleasure receded, she collapsed against his chest, linked her arms beneath his powerful shoulders, and held on tight as he thrust up. A guttural sound tore from his throat when he found his own release, then those magnificent wings lifted, curling around them both, surrounding them in a dark, silken cocoon.
When she regained some of her composure, she took in his rugged face. He looked like the fierce warrior she knew him to be, despite the chains restraining him. It was hard to believe that she’d somehow helped him tame the demon fighting for dominance inside him.
His eyes were closed tight, and though she thought she knew, she couldn’t be sure who had won this battle. Who it was that lay beneath her. Cautiously, she reached up and ran gentle fingers across his brow and down his cheek. “Lazarus?”
His lids fluttered open.
She gasped at the stunning beauty of his bright emerald gaze staring back at her.
“Thank you,” he croaked.
She smiled. “I’m glad you’re back.”
“Is everything all right in there?” Brent’s voice sounded muffled from the other side of the door.
“We’re fine,” she called, sitting up as Lazarus’s beautiful wings unfurled from around their bodies. “Let me get you out of these shackles.”
When he slipped from her body, she felt the loss instantly. She shook off the feeling and climbed to the floor to study his chains. “How the heck do I undo these things?”
“There’s a key over there.” He pointed to a hook on the wall.
The door opened a crack and a pair of jeans landed on the floor. “Thought you might need these,” Brent said through the gap then shut the door again.
Retrieving the heavy key, Eve undid his wrists, followed by his ankles, and stepped back. Lazarus sat up and swung his legs over the side of the table. He stretched his limbs and flexed his stiff muscles. She stared in awe as those beautiful black shimmery wings folded in. He tagged the jeans from the floor and, without taking his eyes off her, pulled them on, not bothering to do them up. “As much as I want to keep you naked, you should probably get dressed.”
“Oh…oh, right.” She bent down and grabbed her shorts, but before she could pull them back on, he moved in behind her, pulled her up against his body, and wrapped his arms around her middle. He was shaking.
“I already want you again. I don’t think I could ever get enough of you.” He ground his already hardening length against her rear, even as his body continued to tremble in the aftermath of what he’d been through.
Her body flared to life, responding instantly.
“I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into all this. You have no idea how sorry I am,” he said.
“It’s okay. I’m glad I could…that I could help.” She smiled, trying to reassure him as she turned in his arms and rested her hands on his chest. She traced the swirling design of his brand with her finger. The scar tissue was rough and slightly raised. “Let’s get you upstairs.”
He dropped his hands when she stepped back to pull on her underwear and shorts.
If it hadn’t been for Lazarus, God only knew what would have happened to her. He’d saved her life, and she owed him the same in return. Being thrust into this new world was scary as hell, but she knew now she would give him whatever he needed, for as long as he needed it. She owed him that. Whatever was going on with him was bigger than her and her petty emotions.
When she lifted her head, she searched his body for any sign of the demon she’d seen moments ago, and sucked in a breath when he looked down at her again. His eyes were so bright, so startling a green they made it hard to focus on anything else when he was looking at her. His wings were gone now, his smooth back showing no trace of them ever being there, and his skin was once again tan and supple, not the leathery armor of his demon. There was also no sign of the horns that had protruded from his head, not a mark or a scar. Nothing. He was back to his former self. Powerful and raw. Terrifyingly beautiful.
Brent was waiting outside when she took Lazarus’s hand and led him from the room. Concern lined his face. “You good?”
Lazarus nodded. “I owe you.”
“You owe me nothing, brother,” Brent said before he strode off.
Lazarus tightened his fingers around hers, and she led him back upstairs.