Chapter 15

Tied to his bed, exposed to his view, my day was looking up. I was still pissed at him, though, and I realized most of my anger didn't come from his deception but from his declaration that he loved me. Even worse, I could feel my own emotions leaning toward him, the words sitting on the tip of my tongue begging for release. And no matter what my father said, I didn't know if I was ready for that type of commitment. I'd rather take a dive off a really high cliff.

However, he had no qualms, and he crawled onto the bed between my legs, every inch of him vibrating with sensual energy, the black paddle gripped between his teeth. Warmth suffused me without volition. He ended up straddling my waist and stroking the flat edge of the paddle over the tip of my erect nipples.

"It's a shame I already bound you on your back, else I would have enjoyed putting you over my lap and smacking that naughty bottom of yours."

I shuddered.

"Have you ever been spanked, Sally?"

I shook my head, unable to reply as he continued to drag the cold paddle across my breasts.

"I think you'd like me to punish you, Sally. I know I'd enjoy it. You, squirming on my lap, naked and begging. Maybe I wouldn't even use a paddle. I think I'd enjoy the skin-to-skin feel of my hand on your tender skin." He slapped my tit, not hard but enough to surprise a gasp from me. Even more liquid heat shot to my groin, and I had to bite back the urge to ask him to act out his words, the sensual imagery so arousing.

"You know what else I think you'd like?" he asked, sliding back so he straddled my thighs. "I have a flogger comprised of dozens of thin latex strands. Maybe I should take it out and whip your pussy instead, as punishment for trying to deny me." He brushed his knuckles over my mound, and my hips arched.

"Please," I finally begged, my whole body screaming for him to stop playing and touch me. I needed him to relieve some of the pleasurable pressure building inside me.

"So many things I want to do to you, Sally, but for now, I think I shall content myself with this." His thumb found my clit and rubbed while, at the same time, he leaned forward and caught my nipple between his lips. Instant bliss made me cry out and quiver. I couldn't deny I loved it when he touched me, every caress stoking my desire, higher and higher. He toyed with me, his mouth alternately sucking and biting my nubs as his hand worked my cleft, one moment tweaking my clit, the other sliding between my plump lips and finger fucking me.

I felt my pleasure building, a coiling tension in my body that needed just a little push to send me over the edge into pure bliss.

He stopped. Confused, I opened my bleary eyes. "Please," I moaned.

"Tell me."

"Fuck me," I replied, trying to arch my hips, but his hands on my thighs held me pinned.

"No, baby, tell me you love me. Tell me you're mine."

"No." I thrashed my head.

The moment I gave him the wrong answer, he attacked my body again with his tongue and mouth. And it felt so damned good.

This time, he put his mouth on my sex, sucking at the cream my arousal produced, his tongue probing my inner channel. When he shoved three fingers into my pussy while sucking on my clit, I almost came, the rapture so intense.

He pulled back again. "I love you, baby. Say the words. Just ‘I love you,' and I'll fuck you like you need."

I thrashed my head no, even as my whole body screamed yes. He chuckled, a low sound that made my tummy curl.

"Such a glutton for punishment. I think I will use my flogger after all."

I opened my eyes in shock and watched as he leaned over the side of the bed and reappeared holding a small flogger.

"Don't you dare," I gasped, my nipples tightening so hard they almost hurt.

"Say the words," he replied with a naughty glint in his eyes.

I tightened my lips.

He twirled his wrist, and the flogger struck me, right between the thighs against my mound. My flesh, already over sensitized, screamed in delight, as did I. Over and over he slapped my flesh with his torturous toy, the silken latex strands feathering and stinging lightly against my cleft, ramping up my desire higher and higher.

He stopped the flailing and plunged several fingers inside me. I screamed and trembled, tightening my muscles around them, about to come. He pulled them out again.

I whimpered. I couldn't take the pleasure anymore. I opened my mouth to say the words he longed to hear, the words I felt as much as I wanted to deny them, but I was saved—or damned—by the ringing of the phone.

With a sigh and a slap of his hand across my mound that made me shudder, he got off the bed and walked away. I hungrily watched the delicious view of his naked, taut buttocks as he left, but as my body cooled, I got annoyed. Like hello, naked, hot babe tied to the bed—make that a very horny babe. For a guy who claimed I was his mate and was trying to make me say the big L word, he had an odd sense of timing. They hadn't invented voicemail so you could leave a woman in a high state of sexual arousal to answer the phone.

My confusion grew even more when he reappeared, fully dressed.

"I've got to go out for a little bit."

What?"You're kidding, right?"

His rueful look didn't have a trace of humor. Neither did his hard kiss, which left me breathless.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," he murmured against my lips while his hand stroked across my damp folds.

He started to walk away. "Um, aren't you forgetting something?" I asked.

He turned to look at me and gave me a chagrined look. "Sorry." He walked back, but instead of releasing me, he grabbed a remote and flipped HBC on.

My mouth opened wide, and my eyes even wider as, with a grin and a blown kiss, he sauntered out of the bedroom. The bastard! I growled and thought of expending some of my special demon strength and breaking the bonds. I mean, seriously, tough as his chains might look, my special blood made me stronger. But I knew he knew I could get free, and obviously, he expected something of me.

So I wondered, should I break free and check his place out? Break free and leave so he could chase me down again? Or did I stay as I was and wait for him to come back and continue where he'd left off? Too many choices and I didn't know which to choose, although I was starting to get a headache thinking about it.

With nothing better to do for the moment, and undecided still as to my best option, I watched HBC, and surprise, it was a rerun of the last episode of Last Sidekick Standing.

Watching the entire drama unfold was a little easier this time round, not to mention I saw some extra footage I hadn't noticed at the time. Such as Dretnor scowling as Drake passed his own test of truth. I still didn't get that demon. He didn't even seem to like me, so why did he care? When the curtain came down at the end of the episode, and the cameras showed my hasty departure, I expected the show to end at this point.

Instead, the emcee came on and announced that, due to exciting developments, the show's regular time slot had been extended. Curious at the fresh footage the emcee hinted at, I watched avidly as Dretnor hurried off, looking around him suspiciously as he scurried through Helltown and entered the offices of...HOE.

What the fuck was Dretnor doing there?

"It looks like there is more than one devious plot unfolding. Is Dretnor truly after the sidekick position, or has he joined the competition for nefarious reasons? Find out more after this commercial break brought to you by Hell-A-Roni, Hades' favorite supper treat."

My mind worked furiously as I tried to think of an ulterior motive for Dretnor. Was he after my soul hunting job? It made no sense, as anyone could apply for a soul hunter position. Of course, the mortality rate tended to make it almost impossible to get life insurance, but nothing prevented him from applying. I didn't think he had a secret sexual yen for me. We'd never even spoken, and while Drake's lust shone in his eyes whenever he saw me, Dretnor's reflected only dislike.

I really hoped Drake won the competition because I really couldn't see myself working with the demon. Not to mention, I knew I wouldn't last much longer under Drake's torturous method of getting me to confess my feelings. But damn was I enjoying myself while he tried.

The commercial break ended, and the emcee came back on, along with video footage of Dretnor opening a portal and stepping out into a mountain range.

"What is our villainous competitor doing outside his only opponent, Drake's, home? Is he planning to kill the only other contestant, or does he have more sinister plans?"

Outside Drake's home? Surely, I'd misunderstood. I continued to watch the television and saw Dretnor blast a hole in the rock, and unless Drake had a really wicked television set, I actually felt the tremor in the bed.

The ominous music playing on the television kind of matched the oh-shit feeling creeping through my limbs. The camera switched, and I caught a brief glimpse of my naked flesh on the television screen, as suddenly my spread-eagle predicament was broadcast to the world.

Great. Just great. They were shooting this live, which meant I didn't have time to admire my curvy body. I needed to get free. Drawing on my demon side, I pulled at my restraints, my muscles screaming in protest. With a clang and sudden jingling, I freed one arm, albeit with a new heavy bracelet. With one arm free, I was able to use both hands to pull free my other bound arm.

I'd managed to snap one of the chains holding my legs when Dretnor appeared in the bedroom doorway.

"You weren't invited to this party," I told him, doing my best to shield my body with my hair. Some men I liked to pose for; others, I preferred to gouge their eyes than let them feast on the awesomeness known as Sally.

He didn't leave. Rather, he grinned at me, a nasty look full of sharp teeth that went quite well with his evil, glowing eyes. "If it isn't the slut herself," he said, approaching with heavy feet, just as I broke the last chain.

Slut? I totally resented that claim. There was nothing wrong with being sexually liberated—unless you were liberating with someone else's man.

Freed, I bound up on the bed, heavy chains flying. "What are you doing here?"

"Isn't it obvious? I'm here to kill you."

"Why?" I know, stupid question to ask when I should have been looking for ways to kick his ass, but I truly wanted to know. I mean, come on, I was standing buck naked in front of the guy, um, demon, and while every other male in the known planes would have been sporting a hard-on, he wanted to snuff me. Something was seriously wrong with this picture.

"Once you die, my beautiful Meddie will be mine."

"Who the fuck is Meddie?" Seriously, I had no idea, and why did he need to kill me to be with her?

Dretnor snarled and lunged at me. "You will speak of her with respect. Medusa has abided your cruelty long enough. I will free her from your vile presence, and once I do, she will love me as she promised."

His words startled me enough that I stumbled, and he raked a poisonous claw across the skin of my arm. Ouch, talk about stinging.

Pain didn't stop me from replying, though. "You mean she put you up to this?"

"I tried to discredit you first," said the demon as he stalked me around the bed. "But no one noticed or cared because of your stupid reality show. Then that idiot dragon fell under your spell and helped foil the attack by the assassins."

"And let me guess, you joined the competition to get close to me."

"Yes, but anyone can see the game will be fixed so Drake, your lover, can win. I must make my move now while he is distracted."

"Wait a second," I said, panting as I tried to dodge and still got sliced. The damn chains kept throwing my balance off, and now the poison also made my movement sluggish. "You're the one who called Drake away?"

"I used a cloaked phone and called to tell him we were interested in hiring him to kill you. Loverboy immediately took off to try and save your sorry ass."

My heart melted to know he'd left in an attempt to be my hero. Turned out he should have stayed for more than one reason. "You won't get away with this. All of Hell is watching you right now. Drake will come back any second and eat you. I'm his mate, you know."

"Drake should be dead by now," said Dretnor with a sneer. "His meeting was with a coven of lamia in need of some dragon skin. And you will join him shortly."

"Fucking bastard!" Tears blurred my vision at the thought of Drake dying, and I dove at the demon, uncaring suddenly that I had no weapons to aid me. I just wanted to wrap my hands around his villainous throat and squeeze. But an unarmed, injured half-demon was no match for a full demon running on madness.

He flung me about like a rag doll. I'll admit things weren't looking too good, and I'd run out of options.

Lying on the floor, gasping in pain, my body sporting a multitude of cuts and bruises, I watched Dretnor approach, my impending death in his eyes. I could heal from many things, but the blade he suddenly pulled out made me curse. Even I couldn't recover from a decapitation.

A roar suddenly shook the room, vibrated my skin, and bitch slapped hope back into me.

Could it be?

Dretnor whirled, and I could see, just barely, past one side of him, Drake barreling into the room. But he wasn't Drake for long. Even as my lover moved, his body rippled and grew and grew some more. Scales formed over his skin, ebony-colored pieces that shimmered almost blue when he moved. When he'd finished transforming, a massive dragon crowded the room.

Hot damn.

Steam hissed in and out of Drake's nostrils, and when he spoke—in our heads, not out loud—I shivered at the raw power.

"Step away from my mate. Now."

Intelligence wasn't one of Dretnor's strong points, apparently—just look who he wanted to hook up with—and instead of obeying something higher up in the food chain, he turned and grabbed me by the hair. I struggled in his grip, but battered and weakened, I didn't accomplish much.

Actually, that wasn't true. If anything, Drake looked even more pissed as he got a better look at the beating I'd received.

"Die," Drake hissed as smoke curled from his nostrils.

Faster than I would have credited a creature of his size, the dragon's forearm lashed out with its razor sharp claws and lopped Dretnor's arm off. Gravity yanked me down. Without Dretnor to hold me up, I expected to meet the floor up close and personal, but Drake, again in a lightning-quick move, grabbed me with his other hand—er, claw.

I found myself tucked under a leathery wing against a gigantic, scaly body, and slumped in relief. And it wasn't just because I'd almost met my maker—if I had one. Drake was alive and safe, not to mention superhot coming to my rescue, even if he was currently a dragon instead of a man.

Dretnor, without his hostage, and minus one arm, didn't look too impressive anymore, but Drake didn't care. His maw, with jagged teeth, opened wide, and he exhaled. A cloud billowed out of his mouth and encased Dretnor, who didn't even have time to say "boo." When the mist cleared, Drake's bedroom had acquired a life-sized ice sculpture of one very ugly demon. Cool.

I might have admired it more, or said something like, "my hero," but I did the most girl thing ever. I swooned.