Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX

Sitting on the sofa with one leg crossed over the other, twirling her ankle madly, Khloé flicked a look at the living room clock on the mantelpiece. 1:03am.

Two minutes. She had two minutes until Keenan arrived.

She’d spent the entire weekend driving him insane in every possible way. Which had been absolutely delightful, and she would sincerely treasure the memories. But no matter what she did or how pissed he got, the bastard stuck to soda and coffee. He’d looked so close to cracking when she casually talked of her brand-new vibrator and its various speeds and settings, but he’d managed to hold out. Awkward asshole.

After he’d given her and Raini a ride home from the airport earlier, he’d telepathically told Khloé to expect him at exactly 1:05am. She hadn’t responded with anything other than a nonchalant shrug, but she was feeling far from blasé about this.

She’d tried distracting herself for hours—unpacking her suitcase, tackling her laundry, cleaning a kitchen that did not need cleaning. But her thoughts kept circling back to the none too small matter that, hey, Keenan would be here soon.

Shit, how had she gotten herself into this situation?

The same way she always got herself into sticky situations—she’d jumped without thinking. Which was usually fun. But now … huh, so this was what regret felt like. She happened to agree with her father—it carried the metaphorical stench of weakness.

She shook off the pointless emotion. It wouldn’t really be so bad to have an incubus feed from her, would it? Such a thing was allegedly very enjoyable, and Khloé liked to enjoy herself. Ergo, she could freaking relax.

Well, she’d find that a lot easier if the incubus in question wasn’t Keenan—a guy she’d wanted for years; a guy she couldn’t help but measure others against; a guy who didn’t want her as much as she did him or he’d have made it clear by now.

The knock on the front door made Khloé jump.

It’s not a big deal, she told herself. The whole thing would take, what, three minutes? Maybe even less. Then he’d be gone, and she’d be floating on a post-orgasm cloud. That wouldn’t be a bad way to end her weekend … or to start a new week, as it were, considering it was technically Monday morning.

Standing, she smoothed out the wrinkles in her sundress and padded into the hallway on bare feet. Taking in a deep breath, she pulled open the front door. And there he stood, tall and still. His hooded blue eyes locked on hers, full of so much heat and promise that her poor hormones went into a frenzy. And, of course, her body lit up like a Christmas tree.

Khloé stepped back, allowing him to enter. He prowled inside, exuding so much self-assurance and intense sexual energy she was surprised she didn’t feel dizzy with it.

When she closed the door, he turned to face her. His eyes dropped to the pulse that was beating far too fast in her neck. That blue gaze then snapped back to hers and drifted over her face, searching.

He took a step toward her, closing the space between them. “I won’t force you, Khloé. If you want to back out, say so now.”

And she knew there’d be no recriminations from him; that he’d accept her “no” and never mention it ever again. Strangely, that was what encouraged her to lift her chin a notch and say, “I don’t break my word.” It was quite possibly her only redeeming quality.

The air chilled as his demon surfaced, making his eyes bleed to black. “Then we will take what you owe us,” it said in its usual emotionless tone.

She licked her lips. “Bring it.”

Its eyes glimmered with what could have been amusement, and then it subsided. Towering over her, Keenan breezed his finger along her jawline. “You sure?”

“Just get it over with. The movie I want to watch starts soon—I ain’t missing it.” But he just kept on staring, and her hormones just kept on having a nervous breakdown.

Sexual tension pulsed between them like a heartbeat, and an agonizing suspense filled the air. She licked her lips. “Keenan—” Her heart thudded as a spicy, mouthwatering, aphrodisiac scent assaulted her senses. Here we go.

Like last time, the air turned humid and warm and stifling. Her lips parted as an unbearable heat whipped through her body so fast that she almost swayed. And then she was at the mercy of the carnal hunger that rocked her entire being.

She staggered backwards until she met the wall. Her nerve-endings turned hypersensitive. Her nipples peaked and throbbed. Her breasts swelled and ached. Her clit pulsed and tingled.

She couldn’t help but moan. Her pussy … It was like there was a pressure inside her. Not filling her, stretching her open, making her keenly conscious of just how empty she was. Her inner walls spasmed, desperate to grip something, but there was nothing there.

A warm hand collared her throat, and Keenan’s energy—so dark, so sensual—poured into her, filling her from head to toe. She slapped her palms on the wall behind her, scratching it a little with her nails.

An image flashed in her mind of him on his knees in front of her, his face in her pussy, her dress bunched around her waist. And she knew he’d planted the image there.

His mouth hovered over hers as he breathed in each moan and breath she released. But it was the sexual energy emanating from her that he was drinking in. The whole time, his eyes didn’t release hers. Not even for a second. There was so much raw hunger there it made her shiver.

Phantom sensations swept over her—fingers pinching her nipples, hands cupping her breasts, a tongue lashing her clit, teeth biting her inner thigh. She groaned and whimpered and arched into him. She also cursed him through gritted teeth, because he didn’t deliver any of those phantom touches to her pussy. A pussy that kept on aching and spasming.

God, she was so wet. And so damn close to coming. But he was controlling her orgasm, wasn’t he? She wouldn’t be able to come until he let her.

Bastard.

Another image flashed in her mind. An image of him fucking her right there against the wall, his teeth in her neck, his fingers digging into the thighs she’d wrapped around him.

“Ready to come?” he asked against her mouth, his lips brushing hers.

“Yes.” A thick shaft plunged inside her. It wasn’t real, she knew that, but it felt so fucking good. And it hit her sweet spot just right as it drove into her hard and fast and—

Then she was coming.

She sucked in a breath as pure pleasure ripped through her body, fragmenting her, devastating her, tearing a scream out of her throat.

Feeling sapped of strength, she could only sag against the wall, her chest burning with every ragged breath. She blinked at Keenan. “Well, that was—”

He slammed his mouth on hers. Hot and demanding, it ate at her own—licking, tasting, nipping. Sparks flared. Chemicals raced. Skilled hands slid over her, clutching and shaping. And she knew things were about to spiral out of control.

Keenan kissed her hard and deep, unable to get enough. Every flick of her tongue dragged him deeper under her spell. His thoughts scattered. His body tightened. His blood thickened. His heart pounded like a drum.

He hadn’t thought his dick could get any harder. He’d been wrong. He was full and heavy to the point of pain.

Watching her come, tasting the sweet and delectable energy she gave off, all but shredded the leash he held over himself. But he’d known it would, hadn’t he? He’d come here hoping she’d make his control slip—he could admit that to himself now.

He needed to feel her skin against his. Needed to taste and mark. Needed to answer the oppressive, relentless hunger before he went insane with it.

It was always going to happen. The carnal, primitive need that taunted them both … you couldn’t just ignore something like that. You had no choice but to explore it; no choice but to let it play out if you ever wanted to be free of it.

Khloé gasped as she suddenly found her front pinned to the wall. Keenan pressed himself so tightly to her back that his weight held her in place. His hands were now wrapped around her wrists, keeping her own hands high above her head. Still, she struggled—which did nothing other than make the thick shaft in his jeans jerk against her back.

“Shh,” he soothed, his warm breath tickling her neck. The little hairs on her nape rose, and a slight shiver made its way down her spine.

Frowning, she glanced at him over her shoulder. “Did you just shush me?” Like she was five?

“As I see it, you have two choices,” he said, transferring both her wrists to one hand. “Choice number one: I walk out that door right now, and we both hope that this thing between us fades on its own at some point.” He slid his free hand down her arm, along her side, and then cupped her hip. “Choice number two: I fuck you. Hard. Deep. I give us what we both need, and maybe then we can get some fucking peace. You choose.”

Utterly blindsided by his words, Khloé could only stare at him. Jesus, he was serious. It wasn’t exactly flattering to hear that he wanted to fuck her so he could have “some peace.” Essentially, he hoped to rid his system of the attraction they’d been wrestling with for years. But, really, she could see some appeal in that. It certainly was not fun to crave someone you couldn’t have. It would be nice if those cravings went away.

Plus, a night of mind-blowing sex would certainly be welcome—she would bet that Keenan could quite easily deliver that. And it would be a damn nice memory to savor. Her demon was all for it.

Still, she found herself hesitating. It was highly possible that he’d later condemn himself for sleeping with his Prime’s cousin. Hell, he might even treat Khloé to one of those “it was a mistake” talks. Then she’d have to pop his head like an oversized zit.

He caught her earlobe with his teeth and softly suckled on it. “Well, what will it be? Hmm?”

She licked her lips. “Not sure it’s a good idea, Don Juan. You’ll regret it afterward.” She almost flinched as sharp teeth grazed her neck hard enough to sting.

“The only thing I’ll regret is not doing this sooner. Spent too long jacking off to the thought of having you. I want the real thing. You going to give it to me? You going to let me fuck you hard and raw?”

Well, she was a big fan of hard and raw, so it was certainly tempting. Her body was totally up for it. She’d wondered more than once whether or not he’d be able to fit the full length of his dick inside her. She wanted to find out. Wanted to know if sex between them was as good as their chemistry hinted at.

He nipped her jaw. “Tell me you don’t want to know how it feels to have me inside you,” he said with a soft growl she felt in her core. “You can’t, can you?”

No, she damn well couldn’t. And she knew she’d never find herself in this situation again. If she sent him away, he’d never make another move. Then she’d always wonder just how good it could have been.

“If you’re absolutely sure—and I mean sure—you won’t regret this tomorrow, I’ll go for option two.”

Satisfaction flooded Keenan’s veins, ramping up the need already pounding through him. “Oh, I’m sure.”

His demon settled, certain that she wasn’t going anywhere. It wanted him to take her there and then, but Keenan didn’t want to rush this. He’d waited too long for it. He wanted to make this so good for her that she’d never forget it. Never forget him.

“I’ve wanted to fuck you since the second I met you. Did you know that?”

Her breath hitched. “I do now.”

He traced the shell of her ear with the tip of his tongue. “Shall I tell you what I’m going to do to you? I’m going to fuck you with my fingers until you come. Then I’m going to lick your pussy clean—oh yeah, I can smell how wet you are. And then I’m going to give us both what we’ve wanted for far too fucking long.”

Sliding his hand from her hip to her stomach, Keenan kept her hips flush with his as he pulled back an inch or so. “First, I need to make one thing clear, Khloé.” He snaked his hand under her dress and dipped it just enough into her panties for him to circle her clit with his finger. His cock jerked at her soft moan. “And it needs to be very, very clear.”

“What?” she rasped, straining against his hold to arch into his touch.

He thrust his hand all the way into her panties and cupped her pussy. “This is mine tonight. You are mine tonight.” If he could only have her for a single night, he’d at least fucking own her the entire time. Own her with his fingers, his tongue, his dick. “We clear?”

Khloé swallowed. Why that low-pitched, commanding tone tightened her nipples and made her lower stomach clench, she had no clue. “Uh-huh.”

Humming in approval, he slipped his finger between her slick folds. “That’s my girl. Now feel what I do to you.”

Closing her eyes, she bit her lip as his skilled fingers began to drive her out of her mind. They went to work on her slit, stroking and teasing. They taunted her clit, flicking and pinching. And just when she thought she couldn’t take anymore, they thrust into her pussy.

He groaned. “Fuck, you’re tight.”

Oh God, and now he was pumping those fingers hard into her pussy. She rocked into his hand over and over, grinding against the heel of his palm. Finally, she imploded with a loud cry, her knees buckling, feeling his dick throb against her back.

“Dreamed of doing that.” Withdrawing his hand from her panties, he spun her to face him and took her mouth again. The kiss was hot and savage, all tongue and teeth.

She sensed then that there’d be no gentle, easy seduction. No soft words or coaxing. He meant to take what he wanted. Well, that was fine with her. Being ravished was always fun.

Not all that good at waiting for what she wanted, Khloé tugged at his fly. A hot, hungry growl poured down her throat and lifted the hairs on her arms. His cock sprang out and, just, wow. It was hot and hard and so damn big.

Should she touch it? Should she lick it? Should she feed it a peanut?

There was a lot of yanking and pulling as they shed each other’s clothes. Naked, she trailed her hands down his chest, almost shivering at the delicious feel of all that sleek skin and pure male muscle. She gripped his shaft hard, liking the feel of it throbbing—

She blinked as she suddenly found herself sprawled on the floor with Keenan kneeling between her thighs. Hmm, this seemed promising.

Curling his powerful body over hers, he planted a hand either side of her head and then began to lick, kiss, and scrape his teeth over her neck. She bucked her hips, trying to grind her clit against his cock, but he edged out of reach. Ugh.

Khloé inhaled sharply as he sucked one nipple into his mouth, his hand plumping her breast. He licked and suckled—sometimes slow and soft, sometimes hard and rough. She shuddered when he moved on to her neglected breast, teasing and tasting and touching. Every time he sucked or bit her nipple, she somehow felt it in her pussy.

Arching into him, she gripped his hair. But the strands slipped through her fingers as he slid down her body. Then his mouth was on her. Oh, Jesus. That fabulous tongue licked and swirled and plunged, making her shake and writhe and moan.

She could feel another orgasm creeping up on her. Could feel the tension building and building, winding her so damn tight. And then she shattered, crying out as her body arched and shook.

Collapsing against the floor, she opened her eyes. Kneeling between her thighs once more, he snatched a condom out of his jeans’ pocket and swiftly donned it. His shimmering blue gaze snapped to hers, glittering with so much heat and … something close to menace. Oh yeah, he was hanging by the thinnest of threads.

Keenan grabbed her legs, yanked her closer, and then roughly pushed her spread thighs up towards her chest. Usually, he had no problem keeping a woman dangling on the edge of an orgasm for hours. Desire never rode him hard. Desperation never seized him. Anticipation never filled him so fully that he couldn’t hold back any longer.

Now, nothing mattered but burying himself inside Khloé. She gasped when he fed her the broad head of his cock. His shaft throbbed with the overwhelming urge to jackhammer into her over and over. Some-fucking-how, he resisted. She was so small and slight, and he worried he’d hurt her.

“Look at me,” he ground out. He wanted to stare into her eyes, wanted to be sure she wasn’t in any pain. He also wanted to see them glaze over with pleasure as he fucked her.

Grasping onto what little control he had, Keenan sank inside her slow and smooth. Fuck, he’d never been inside a pussy so goddamn tight. If she wasn’t so slick, he’d struggle to enter her.

When he finally bottomed out, she let out a long, shaky breath and double-blinked. Pain pinched her brow, and she squirmed slightly.

“Shh, you’re okay, I got you.” He stroked her inner thighs, humming. “You took all of me like a good girl. I knew you would.”

“Jesus, you’re deep. My womb is like, ‘What the fuck is in me?’” A laugh would have bubbled out of him if he wasn’t grinding his teeth against the urge to pound into her. He slowly pulled back, leaving only the head of his dick inside her, and then he slammed home with such force she bucked beneath him. He did it again and again, ignoring his demon’s demand for him to pick up his pace.

“Harder,” she rasped. “I won’t break.”

“Don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.” She licked her lips. “Besides, I like a little pain.”

He closed his eyes, pausing mid-thrust. “Fuck, Khloé, you can’t say shit like that.” Not when he was precariously balancing on the knife-edge of what self-discipline he had left—and there wasn’t much.

He’d never in his life felt like this. Desperate. Frantic. Shaken by the sheer intensity of the need flaring through him.

“Harder,” she repeated. “If it hurts, if I can’t take it, I’ll let you know. Come on, you know you want to.”

He sank fully into her again, and her pussy rippled. “Jesus, Khloé, how can you be so tight?”

“I’m a virgin.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Kidding. Sorry, there’s been other guys before you.” Her smile was all mischief. “And that just makes you want to fuck me so hard I’ll never forget the feel of you, doesn’t it?”

Yeah, it damn well did. Tricky little witch. He pulled back again. “You sure that’s what you want?”

“Do I look unsure?” she snapped.

“No, baby, you look hungry for more of my dick.” And so he gave it to her. His control a distant memory, he fucked her brutally at a merciless pace. Honest to God, it was like there was a fever in his blood.

Drowning in the hot, silken feel of her, he kept on driving hard and fast. He couldn’t ease up. Couldn’t slow down. He could only pound deep into her pussy over and over, driven by a need so basic and vicious he was helpless against it.

He wanted her to feel branded. Possessed. Owned. Greedy for more. He wanted no other man to ever again be good enough for her. Which made him a dick, but there it was.

Sexual energy swirled around her, sweet and spicy and mouth-watering. He breathed it in, let it fill his lungs. Fuck, the taste of her … no other beat it.

Still thrusting fast and deep, he grabbed her hand and splayed it over her stomach. “Can you feel me? Can you feel how deep I am?”

“Yes,” she hissed. “God, don’t stop, I’m gonna come.”

She wasn’t the only one. He felt the telling tingle at the base of his spine, knew he wouldn’t last much longer. How could he? Those throaty fucking moans were killing him, and the inferno-hot grasp of her pussy was so gorgeously tight it was also pure torture.

He draped himself over her and gave her his weight. “I want to feel your pussy clamp down on my cock. I want to shoot my come so deep inside you, you’ll swear you can taste it.”

She clung to his back, pricking him with her nails. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He slipped his hand between their bodies and parted her slick folds. “Come.” He brutally rammed into her, hitting her clit with his dick again and again.

Her body shook, her head fell back, and her mouth opened in a silent scream. Keenan spat a curse as her hot, snug pussy contracted around him. His thrusts turned rough and erratic as he jackhammered into her over and over. Then he drove his swelling cock balls-deep inside her and exploded so intensely he could swear he saw stars.

Feeling as pliant as melted wax, Khloé let her arms flop to her sides. Yowza. Just yowza.

They lay there for a few minutes, shaking with aftershocks and striving to catch their breath. Finally, he pulled out of her and rolled onto his back—she felt his reluctance to move, and it made her demon smug.

“Fuck, I didn’t mean to be that rough. Did I hurt you?”

Khloé looked at him, knowing she wore a lazy, sated expression. “I look in pain to you?”

He didn’t respond to the rhetorical question. He merely stood upright and held out his hand. She took it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. Her body ached in some very interesting places, but she liked it.

His gaze raked over her, but there was no heat this time. His expression was carefully blank. She could almost see him pulling in, pulling away, making sure she understood it was just sex and that he’d meant it when he said there’d be no repeat.

Khloé almost rolled her eyes. Guys were always so sure that women would get “attached.” It was kind of narcissistic, really.

She hadn’t once doubted that he meant what he’d said. Nor had she read anything into what just happened. But the sudden remoteness in his manner chilled her all the same. Her demon glared at him, itching to do something that would snap him out of it.

“Bathroom?” he asked.

“The downstairs one is to the left of the kitchen.” Watching his naked ass stride into the bathroom, she almost hummed. Well, it was a very nice image. One she wouldn’t see again. But that was okay. Really. Truly.

She reached for her clothes. By the time he reappeared from the bathroom, having disposed of the condom, she’d slipped her dress and panties back on.

He pulled on his own clothes without a word and then turned to her, clenching his fists … as if not trusting that he wouldn’t make a grab for her. His expression might be blank, but it was clear to her that he didn’t want to leave—his reluctance was right there in his body language. That made her feel a little better, but her demon was still in a funk.

Seconds ticked by, and then he cleared his throat. “Lock up after me.” He left without a second glance. How nice.

*

Every house she passed looked the same. Plain and sterile with a white, rusty car in the driveway and a small, neglected lawn. No matter how far or how fast Khloé walked along the footpath, she couldn’t seem to get closer to the house on the end of the street. It always remained out of reach, just like the woman who resided in it.

Khloé dipped her hand in her pocket to feel for the house key. It wasn’t there. She’d just have to ring the doorbell. Sometimes Penelope answered, sometimes she didn’t. It depended how much Bourbon she’d—

A graying, smirking, suited-up guy appeared a few feet in front of Khloé. She stopped walking. Enoch. Not good. “Jolene is looking for you.”

“Yes, I know.” He glanced around. “Such a dull, inane dream for someone so full of life and energy.”

“And just what the fuck do you want?”

He laughed, delighted. “And there’s that typical Wallis attitude. But then, all imps are full of snark and sass, aren’t they?”

Well, yeah.

“Your grandmother should have known better than to cross me.”

Khloé rolled her eyes. Like that made him special. Her family members crossed people all the time.

“She’ll pay for that. But not by my hand. You know, losing a person you love is an agony like no other. It steals your breath, pounds your soul, drags you down so low you can’t see a way back up. Your grandmother’s going to feel that same pain when I kill you. I would have killed her daughter to repay her for killing mine. But it’s partly your fault that Molly is in that grave, so I’ll destroy you instead. Then I’ll have you kill Jolene.” His eyes hardened, but his smirk widened. “Come, walk with me.”

Her brows drew together as the air around her thickened until it felt like there was a weight on her shoulders. A weight that seemed to be pushing her deeper and deeper into … something. Her surroundings blurred, and the colors mashed together like a pastel painting. Only he remained clear.

He held out his hand. “Come. I can help you reach your mother’s house. That is where you’re heading, isn’t it? We’ll go there together. Maybe we’ll even find her inside. Maybe she’ll even be sober. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Khloé pressed a hand to her chest. The thick air she’d inhaled was like a pressure inside her ribcage. A pressure that was building and building, inflating her lungs like they were balloons.

“Come,” he ordered, flexing the hand he held out. Impatience shimmered in his gaze. “Don’t resist. Just obey. Just—”

Khloé’s eyes flipped open—it was a move that almost hurt, since her eyelids felt so damn heavy. The darkness of her bedroom greeted her. Maybe it was a noise, she wasn’t sure, but something had wrenched her out of a deep, fucked-up sleep.

Tensing, she reached out with her psychic senses. Her pulse skittered when she found two other minds. Demonic minds. Both felt wrong somehow.

She kicked off the bedcovers and, silent as always, snapped out her wings. She flapped them hard once, making her body zoom upwards. She plastered her palms and the soles of her feet to the ceiling and hung there like a spider—an ability that awesomely freaked out Ciaran; she’d pounced on him from above plenty of times over the years when they were kids. And adults, if she was honest.

Khloé had expected the intruders to stealthily make their way through her house. They didn’t. Floorboards creaked, furniture was jostled, and doors were shoved open. And then two people barged into her room, their movements awkward and clunky.

Her nose wrinkled, and she almost gagged. They smelled of dirt and rot and … death. As she took in their weathered clothing and decaying bodies, she was sure as shit that they were already dead.

Well, fuckadoodledo.

The stout one grunted. The teenage corpse gargled a weird sound. Not that they were communicating—no independent thoughts drifted through their brains. They were both fully controlled by their puppet master.

In any other circumstance, Khloé would have plunged her mind into that of her enemy and taken the wheel. She could control most minds with minimal effort, but she couldn’t control the dead. Only a demon with the power of necrokinesis could do that.

She could take on two reanimated corpses—they’d be unable to use whatever demonic abilities they’d possessed when alive. But Enoch might be able to attack her with some of his abilities just by looking at her through the eyes of his puppets. That wasn’t good.

The dead teen suddenly jerked back, his back bowing. Then his body snapped straight, and a long breath rattled out of him. “I know you’re in here, Khloé,” he said, his voice rough and garbled. “You can’t hide for long.”

True. But she’d never intended to hide, only to observe; to study her enemy.

She dropped onto the back of the teen. Her weight was enough to send him to his knees, no doubt due to how rickety his bones were. Wicked fast, she lifted her hand and sent a powerful wave of electric fire soaring at the stout corpse. Flickering and crackling, the flames whipped him so hard he crashed into the wall.

She slapped her hands on the teen’s head and emitted yet more electric fire; it buzzed and sparked beneath her palms. She might not be able to take control of his mind, but she could sure as shit fry it so that the corpse was useless to its master.

A hard, white-hot impact slammed into the back of her shoulder, barely missing her wings and knocking the breath from her lungs. Hellfire orb.

Gritting her teeth against the agony of her skin blistering and burning, she stood and whipped around. The stout corpse was still convulsing as shockwaves of electric fire moved through it, but her power clearly hadn’t hurt Enoch, because he was still able to attack her via the corpse.

Just then, another ball of hellfire appeared in its hand. It appeared too late, though, because she’d conjured an orb of her own. She tossed it at the corpse’s face, blinding it, cutting off Enoch’s ability to see and hurt her. Seconds later, it slumped, and she knew the necromancing piece of shit had withdrawn from its mind.

Her shoulders dropped as she looked from one corpse to the other. Neither was a pretty sight—the teen’s mush-for-brains was trickling out of his ears, mouth, and nose; the face of the other guy was blistering, charring, and peeling away, courtesy of the hellfire.

Speaking of blistering skin …

She peeked at the injury on the back of her shoulder. It was ugly and raw, but it wasn’t very deep. Thankfully, she was a fast healer, so it should be gone within the hour.

She psychically reached out to touch Ciaran’s mind. Bro, I got a problem here—meet me in my bedroom.

A male mind slid against hers. Are you going to ask me for a condom again?

She snickered. No. I’m going to ask you to help me get rid of a couple of corpses.

It took mere seconds for her brother to appear. After hearing her story and losing his ever-loving mind, he teleported Jolene and two of her sentinels, Orrin and Mitch, to the house. While her grandmother and the sentinels examined the bodies, Khloé told them what happened.

“You should have called for help sooner,” clipped Ciaran, standing in the doorway of her bedroom, his jaw clenched, his arms folded across his chest.

Khloé blinked. “Why?”

He gritted his teeth. “Because you were up against a Lazarus demon and two corpses, why else?”

“I’ve been up against worse.” It was the truth. “Besides, I figured I could take them. He was able to attack me with hellfire orbs through them, but he didn’t toss any of those black, smoky orbs.”

“There’ll be limits as to what he can do through his puppets,” Jolene told her.

“I don’t recognize either of the bodies; they definitely weren’t from our lair,” said Orrin.

Jolene cursed. “So Enoch’s now targeting the cemeteries of other lairs.”

“He might be hoping the disappearances of the bodies will be reported and that you’ll then somehow be held responsible for it all,” Mitch suggested.

“Possibly.” Jolene planted her hands on her hips. “I’m going to kill the bastard when I find him. And I will find him.”

“Did you manage to locate David Shore?” asked Khloé.

“Yes. He lives in Nebraska, but he’s on a business trip at the moment. We’ll have to wait a few days before we can pay him a visit.”

Orrin looked at Khloé. “Enoch likes to finish the jobs he started—it’s a matter of pride for him. He’ll be both embarrassed and furious that you thwarted him. He’s not going to let it slide, and I doubt it’ll be long before he strikes again. We had members of the Force watching your house, but they were distracted when two cars collided further up the street. They ran over to assist.”

“Enoch probably staged it,” said Jolene.

“It seems likely.” Rubbing her aching head, Khloé asked, “Hey, Grams, do you know if Enoch can dream-walk? I think he visited me in my dream, because it seems an awfully big coincidence that I just dreamed of him telling me that he’ll not only kill me but use my corpse to hurt you all in the name of revenge … then something woke me up, and I realized that I wasn’t alone in the house.”

“It sounds as if he can indeed dream-walk, but I can’t say for sure,” replied Jolene.

Well, that wasn’t good. “Can he hurt me through my dreams?”

“No. But he may be able to alter your dreams or drag you into a deeper sleep.”

Khloé felt her brows draw together as she remembered how the air in the dream had thickened and weighed her down. “I think he tried to do that tonight.”

“He most likely hoped to lure you into such a deep sleep that his puppets wouldn’t wake you.”

“Well, it didn’t work.”

“Probably because you’re resistant to most forms of mental manipulation. But he can hurt you in other ways, so be prepared for him. Have you told Teague what’s been going on?”

“Not yet. I was going to wait until he returned from his trip.”

“I’d call him and fill him in, if I were you. There’s a chance he could find out through the demonic grapevine, and then he’d be upset that you kept it from him. Plus, he has a right to know. And you’d want him to contact you if the situation was reversed.”

True, true. “Fine. I’ll call him tomorrow.”

Ciaran planted his feet. “I’ll move in here for a while and stay in one of your spare bedrooms so I can teleport you out of here if anything happens.”

Oh the hell no. She loved her brother, she truly did, but he was a nightmare for her to live with. Mostly because he ate like a horse, never tidied up after himself, “borrowed” her stuff, and thought he could tell her what to do.

“You can teleport to me in the blink of an eye—that means you don’t need to stay here,” Khloé pointed out.

“That would be true if I could trust that you’ll call me for help straight away, but I can’t,” said Ciaran. “You’d rather take him on alone than pull me into a dangerous situation.”

“Yeah, well, you pull the same shit with me.”

“Which is why both of you are going to promise me here and now that you will telepathically call out for help if Enoch attacks,” said Jolene. “Consider it an order.”

Ciaran let out a sigh. “I promise.”

Khloé hesitated, twisting her mouth.

Jolene took a step toward her, her expression grave. “Enoch wouldn’t just kill you, Khloé. He made it very clear that he means to reanimate your corpse and send you after someone you love. Do you really want that?”

Khloé exhaled heavily. No, she didn’t. “I promise I’ll send out a telepathic call for help if Enoch makes another move.”

“Good. Now let’s get you cleaned up.”