The Darkest Craving

Maybe he shouldn’t do this.

A gust of wind burst through the room, lifting the bottle of whiskey off the ground and slamming it into the woman’s chest.

“Ow!” she cried.

Kane cursed the day he’d stolen Pandora’s box.

She rubbed her chest, saying, “What just happened?”

“Could have been an air vent.” It was possible.

“Why don’t you kiss me better?” She inched closer to him.

“No kissing.” Harsh words. Even harsher tone.

“What about sucking? I’m really good at sucking.” She leaned over to unfasten his pants, but Kane flipped her over. He pressed her stomach into the cushions of the couch, holding her down. He didn’t want anyone’s lips on him.

“We do this my way.” Bile rose as he lifted the hem of her dress and tugged down her panties. Though he would have rather sawed off one of his limbs, he unbuttoned his pants, undid the zipper. The trembling of his hands magnified. Acid rose from his stomach and collected in his throat, scorching him. He paused.

What was the problem? He’d done this before. When he’d realized relationships weren’t feasible, he’d lived off one-night stands. At least for a little while. But none of them had ever broken him down like this….

“Am I doing something wrong?” she asked.

Gritting his teeth, he sheathed himself in a condom and … and …

Do it! Disaster commanded.

He took her.

He was rough, ragged, utterly without sensuality and carnal ambition. He had no focus, no desire to watch her reach climax. His mind despised this. And yet, his body liked it. But then, his body was a traitor. It had liked what the minions had done, too, and that’s what haunted him most. That a part of him had enjoyed his own violation.

This had been a mistake.

He didn’t want this woman, didn’t know her, might not even like her if he did. She wasn’t … her, the Fae his instincts craved so desperately.

Disaster cursed at the direction of his thoughts.

And as the female groaned to encourage him, images began to fill his head. Hands here … mouths there … minions everywhere …

Nearing panic, Kane somehow, some way, managed to finish. He wasn’t sure whether or not he’d gotten her off, and at the moment, he didn’t care.

The demon’s curses tapered into statements of approval.

Fighting a tide of self-disgust, Kane discarded the condom and fixed his clothing, then threw a few hundreds on the couch cushions beside her. He walked to the door, and motioned her out. First thing he saw was William taking a woman against the wall. The guard was nowhere to be seen.

“But … don’t you want my number?” asked the blonde. “In case the urge strikes again? I’ll make myself available to you any day, any time.”

“No,” he said, being blunt to be kind. He would never call her, and he didn’t want her hoping for the impossible.

“Was I not what you were looking for?”

“No. You weren’t. Now leave.”

Sighing, she straightened her dress and strode out of the room, the hall.

“All done?” William called. He hadn’t pulled from the woman, but he’d stopped moving at least.

More, Disaster said.

As much as Kane hated the words brewing at the back of his tongue, he said, “Bring me another one.” The sex hadn’t done what he’d wanted. The memories and all that came with them were still knocking at the door of his mind, ready to pounce. But Disaster was happy. So, Kane would take a second woman. And a third. However many proved necessary, until the demon was so saturated with satisfaction, he forgot what had happened.

Kane received an unapologetic and shameless thumbs-up before he shut the door, stalked to the bathroom and vomited. When he finished, he cleaned his mouth with the contents of another bottle of whiskey.

And not a second too soon.

A knock sounded at the door. William and a brunette strutted inside.

“How about this one?” the warrior asked.

“Whatever,” Kane said. “She’ll do.”

Before the night was over, Kane took twelve women. He used different positions, and different types of females. Girls in their twenties, women in their forties, more blondes, more brunettes and even two redheads. He hated every second, even hated himself. He vomited every time.

Disaster loved it all, and yet he never stopped tossing out images of Kane’s torture.

He hated the demon a thousand times more.

His time’s coming … soon …

The mountains of Montana

KANE HACKED THROUGH the foliage in front of him. Branches continually slapped at him, courtesy of Disaster. The satisfaction the creature had experienced during the sexual marathon hadn’t lasted long. Now, rocks rolled in his way, tripping him. Insects snapped at him.

He had to reach the Fae before the demon did any major damage … or Kane’s mind finally snapped. Whichever came first.

His head was even more unfamiliar terrain, with dark valleys and impossibly high mountains he could never hope to climb. Or maybe he could. When he’d left the club, he’d realized the Fae had become a source of light to him. His only source of light. She had made him want to smile during the worst period of his life. For that alone, she was a miracle.

He could really use a miracle.

Perhaps she could do what the parade of women had not: wash away the worst of his memories. Bring peace, if only for a little while.

Perhaps. But perhaps not.

Either way, he had to know. Had to see her, talk to her. Save her.

Deep inside, where instinct still demanded she belonged to him, he suspected she was his only hope of survival.

So, he would find her.