Beauty's Beasts Read online

  She turned her head away from the sun and let herself cry. When her tears petered out and she was down to hiccupping and hitching, she realized that Damian was soothing her back with his hand and the other was in her hair. She liked it. She could stand here a lot longer accepting that sort of soothing. Like earlier that morning in the car, her lips were only a hair’s breadth from his neck. She could slide her tongue out and lick the flesh. Kiss it.

  She could tell by the way his hands shifted against her that he was aware of her altered mood. Her heart began to race. She closed her eyes. There was nothing she could hide from these two. It was mortifying…but at the same time, it was almost relaxing. It saved a lot of conversations and misunderstandings if she could just get over being humiliated about it.

  The hand on her back slid down to her hips. The fingers spread, questing. They pressed gently. Pressing her against him.

  She sighed.

  It was a signal. Damian brought her back up against the sunny wall again and this time, he held her there, his body against her. His thigh pressed between hers, putting pressure on her mons and she gasped.

  “Ambrosia,” he whispered. His arm curled over her head, resting against the wall, and he leaned down slowly, slowly to graze his cheek against hers.

  Her body was screaming for more. She wanted to reach for him, to grab him and wrap her legs around him and beg him to plunder her. Abruptly, she recognized the thought. She had battled this same impulse with Nicholas barely two hours ago.

  Damian’s tongue slid along her cheek. Collecting her tears.

  Then he kissed her.

  She had never been kissed like this. It was as if Damian’s entire attention was centered on delighting her, making her happy and only that. There was no underlying agenda, no rush—he had eternity, after all—and he knew exactly how to kiss. His tongue stroked her lips and teeth and toyed with her own with such knowing, masterful touches that her knees began to tremble. Moisture pooled in her pussy.

  But still he kissed her, until she felt the world starting to slip away.

  “Who taught you to kiss like that?” he asked when he at last released her mouth.

  “You did. At least, I’ve never kissed like that until just now.”

  His fangs were partially descended, but it didn’t frighten her at all. She understood that this was a vampire response to strong stimulus. He closed his eyes for a moment and they retracted, then with a groan he pressed his mouth against her neck and slid his lips down her throat and held them over her wildly beating pulse. He licked it.

  Riley closed her eyes. She had to stop this. She had to. But her hands were glued to the wall behind her. She wouldn’t stop Damian, but she wouldn’t participate in the seduction either, as much as she longed to tear the clothing from his long, lean body.

  He slid the strap of her tank top and bra from her shoulder and she moaned, for she knew what he would do next and she wanted it with every corpuscle of her body. He lowered the cup of her bra and the tank top, exposing her breast…but he didn’t immediately touch her breast with either his hand or his mouth. His eyes feasted upon it. But he yanked aside her belt buckle and ripped her jeans open even as he studied her.

  She was ready to burst into flames. Her clit was engorged, thumping with blood, and her pussy slick. Damian slid her jeans down her hips, bringing her panties with them, until her pussy peeped above the denim. He reached for her, but she managed to make herself grab his strong wrist.

  He looked at her.

  “Don’t make me choose between the two of you, Damian.” She could feel the pressure of more tears. “If you do this, you’ll force me to and I don’t want to have to choose.”

  “You want this.” His hand slid between her legs.

  “I want Nicholas.”

  His fingers slid inside her and she cried out and clutched at him, her balance uncertain. Her eyes closed all on their own. It felt so good, so right. As the same time Damian’s mouth fastened onto her breast and his teeth tugged on her nipple. His thumb rubbed her clitoris as his fingers moved inside her.

  She clutched at his hair, his shoulders. It took fifteen seconds and she climaxed, making a guttural screaming sound she had never in her life heard herself make before. The convulsion ripped through her in powerful wrenching waves.

  She was left weak and trembling, panting and clinging to him.

  Damian withdrew his fingers, straightened up and held her against him as the last of the orgasm passed through her. She could feel him trembling, too and his congested cock against her stomach.

  “Why did you force the issue, Damian?” she said against his shoulder. Her voice was pathetically small. “Why couldn’t you have given me time?”

  He began to rearrange her clothes, to re-dress her and he adjusted his own pants to better stretch over the enormous bulge in them. At last, he curled his hand around her neck and simply looked at her. “We are not men, Riley. We cannot give you the luxury of time, not when you constantly want us the way you do. We are strong, but not that strong. Now that Nicholas wants you, I knew I must…” His mouth turned down. “Collect you.”

  She wanted to weep or stamp her foot in frustration. “Just to stop him? Why? You really hate him that much now?”

  He shook his head. “It was important that I taste you first.”

  Her mouth opened. Nothing came out. She couldn’t think beyond the buzzing there. She couldn’t seem to focus beyond that one critical word. First.

  He leaned against her, his whole long body pressing against her. His mouth came down to her ear. “You’ve missed a vital point in all your agonizing, Riley.”

  She could barely breath for the effect that his body was having, pressed up against hers. Responding to him was beyond her. His tongue rimmed her ear, making her moan.

  “Who said anything about you having to choose between me and Nicholas, anyway?” he breathed.

  Then his weight was lifted and the sun was on her body, dazzling her eyes, making her lift a hand against it, even as her battered mind reeled at the suggestions and implications behind Damian’s questions.

  “Coming?” Damian asked.

  She looked. He was carrying all the shopping bags and holding out his other hand toward her. Riley took it.

  Chapter Four

  “We’re going to see Lirgon at an art exhibition?” Riley asked, looking up at the façade of the building Damian was leading her toward.

  “Sculpture exhibition.” He pulled notes off a bill clip and handed them through to a woman behind the glass at the ticket counter. Then he took her hand again.

  The building was light and very white, full of square white blocks and steel, all except the floors, which were a very pale natural wood, sealed and varnished to a bright gleam. Even the stairs were white blocks and steel.

  Ahead, there was a security scan walk-through frame and a couple of bored looking guards, also in white. Riley wanted to giggle except that she was suddenly aware in a morbid way of the knife weighing down the inside of her coat.

  Damian tugged her forward. “Come on,” he said, thrusting a program into her hand. She glanced at it. Fábio Natan—Gargoyle Exposé was written in huge letters on the front of the booklet.

  “They actually know about gargoyles?” she asked in a whisper.

  “One at a time, sir!” the guard called out.

  Damian dropped her hand. “I’ll go first.” He walked through the frame, turned and beckoned her. She tried not to hesitate or show any awkwardness. Instead, she looked down at the program as she stepped through, like that was taking all her attention, instead of the scan.

  Nothing happened. She looked up at Damian and smiled. “Now, are you going to show me what’s got you all excited?” she said, for benefit of the guards.

  He took her hand again, and hurried her toward the stairs. “Gargoyles,” he said, in a normal voice, “Are carvings they used to add to old buildings to shed water off the sides of them. Castles and towers. That sort of stuff. Late
r on, gargoyle designs for public buildings got more and more elaborate and decorative. But Natan has designed his own gargoyles just for the hell of it, and put them on exhibition. They’ll never sit on a public building anywhere.”

  The stairs split and turned one eighty degrees and headed up to the next floor. Damian took the right hand side.

  “You mean, he just carved Lirgon out of rock?” Riley asked in an undertone.

  “Yes, pretty much exactly that, with some added complications.” Damian pulled her forward. “Meet Lirgon.”

  Her first instinct was to scoot backward and she did step back, right into Damian. His hands came down onto her shoulders. “I’m here,” he said. His voice reverberated against her back, warm and reassuring. “The creature is asleep for now. You are safe. All gargoyles sleep during the day. It is called stone sleep and it is when they are at their most vulnerable. Someone who knows of their true nature might take it into their heads to batter them to pebbles. But we cannot—not here and now, for the place is guarded and public.”

  Riley drew a deep breath and stared up at the twelve foot mound of stone before her. It was the ugliest creature she had ever seen. The eyes bulged and wings curved around to protect a hunched and clawed body that included horned toes and hooked fingers, jagged teeth and a long snout that snarled even in sleep. The tongue protruded from the mouth, but it did not look pathetic.

  “Is...Is it aware of us?”

  “No.”

  “It’s wretched. People are paying to look at these things?”

  “Don’t let that fool you,” Damian breathed. “This is the deadliest foe your parents faced. Now you must face it, or more people will die.”

  She bit her lip. “Why me? Why not Nicholas? He’s a hunter.”

  “We think Lirgon came back just for you, Riley. The seed of the Connors. The only way we can protect you properly is to teach you how to defeat the monster yourself. We will help all we can, but you must do this.”

  She looked around the big display room and counted quickly. “There’s twenty more. Are they all like Lirgon? All…real?” She flipped the program open. “How long has Natan been doing this for?”

  “We don’t know how many for sure. Nicholas came to the exhibition as soon as he heard of it and remembers five of them at least, beside Lirgon. The rest of the gargoyles we believe are just what they appear to be. Stone carvings. Dead lumps of rock. But the six, including Lirgon…they are from the original Stonebrood clan that Nicholas has been hunting, on and off, for over two hundred years. Up until August 1977, the night your grandfather died, demon hunters believed gargoyles were extinct.”

  “Then how…?”

  A long finger stroked her cheek, making her nerve ends snap and sizzle. “That is a tale for closed doors and no witnesses.” His voice breathed in her ear.

  Riley couldn’t take her eyes off the snarling, still creature crouched in front of her, and the lifeless stone eyes. “It really isn’t aware of us?”

  “No. The stone sleep is profound.” Damian sighed. “Lirgon could not have chosen a more protected place to return than this. Simple, but brilliant. Security guards to watch all who approach him during daylight hours. All Lirgon must guard against is an untimely waking at night.”

  Riley flipped the program over. “It’s short opening hours. Look.” She held up the exhibition opening and closing times listed on the back of the program. “They coincide with daylight, more or less, at this time of year.”

  Damian tilted his head back to look up at the roof. Overhead, three large leaded skylights allowed sunlight to stream into the airy gallery, giving the displays the best possible light. “It’s still only three p.m.,” he said. “We have three hours to kill until he rises.”

  “You intend to watch him rise?”

  “Yes.”

  “The guards won’t let you stay here after the gallery closes,” Riley pointed out.

  “We can watch from another building.” Damian bent to bring his lips closer to her ear. “The glory of Manhattan—there’s always another building next door.”

  She shivered at the closeness of his lips, as images jumped into her mind. His hands, which were still on her shoulders, sliding farther down to cup her breasts, as he ground his pelvis into her from behind. She wanted to hear him make hard, breathless, helpless sounds as he handled her. She wanted to know he found her irresistible. She was too used to the power she had over normal men. Damian had the power now. She needed him too much.

  Him and Nicholas.

  Just thinking of the other vampire made her heart beat a rapid tattoo and her pussy throb hard. Her clitoris beat in time with her heart and she could hear her breath in her ears.

  “Damian,” she whispered almost silently.

  He drew in a breath and turned his head to look at her. His black eyes narrowed. “Tell me what you want,” he murmured.

  “You,” she said honestly. She swallowed. “Now.”

  His lips brushed over hers. The light touch was electrifying. “How?” he asked softly.

  “I don’t care.” She knew it beggared her, but didn’t care about that either. She ached only to have him inside her. “Please,” she whispered, knowing he would hear her when others wouldn’t.

  Damian stepped around her to stand before her and studied her face. His thumb stroked her cheek and sparks seemed to leap from his touch. She gasped unsteadily as she stared up at him. “Now,” she whispered. “Hurry.”

  He glanced around them, making it look casual. There was a big, five-foot-square black leather upholstered flat bench nearby, strategically placed for visitors to sit and study the artwork. There were others scattered around the gallery.

  “You want me to lower you upon that and have my way?” Damian murmured. “You should have worn a skirt, my lover.”

  Riley thought she might burst into flames. It wasn’t just the idea behind his words. It was Damian’s low voice rippling over the words themselves. My lover. They were true enough. She intended to let him seduce her as soon as discretion allowed. But they still touched a chord that sent startling shockwaves through her.

  Damian’s eyes narrowed as he studied her face. He picked up the shopping bags next to her feet with one hand, and lifted her hand with the other. “Come,” he said simply, and tugged her into following him. She went willingly, her new boots tapping on the pale wooden flooring with what sounded to her like incredibly loud raps that drew attention to what they were doing, like a trumpet call. But no one turned to look at them. No one paid any attention at all.

  Damian threaded his way through the still and silent gargoyles towering over them, heading for the back of the large gallery, which took up the entire floor as far as Riley could tell. At the back of the room, she saw what Damian had spotted before her, thanks to his extra height. There was an exit sign glowing over the top of a corridor that was lined with doors. At the far end was a metal-lined door with a fast release bar. The fire escape.

  The doors along the corridor seemed anonymous, but there were discreet tags. International signs for male and female washrooms, a janitor’s closet and a manager’s office. Damian pulled Riley up against the manager’s door and knocked. When there was no answer, he knocked again, more firmly. Still no answer. Riley’s heart was thundering now, for she guessed his intention and his body was pressing her hard up against the door. She could feel his long length against her from behind and it wasn’t helping her pulse stay steady at all. Anticipation was making her tremble and her thoughts almost incoherent.

  Damian glanced along both directions of the corridor, then reached out for the doorknob. He gave it a twist. It seemed like a gentle turn, but the door gave a low agonized metallic groan and gave way. Damian pushed Riley inside, shut the door, grabbed a slim visitor’s chair from in front of the big wooden desk and rammed the back of it under the handle of the door.

  The desk took up most of the room. There was a silver plaque sitting on the front of it. John Sandford. An in-tray and a compu
ter monitor with a blank face.

  As Riley blinked in astonishment, Damian was suddenly there in front of her, his hand sliding under her hair and curling around her neck. His lips were on hers, his other hand on her waist, sliding right around her, possessing her.

  But then the kiss took hold and she lost track of what his hands were doing to her. She dropped the bags, or maybe he took them from her. But her hands were somehow free. Her coat came adrift and slipped from her shoulders as the kiss lengthened.

  When Damian finally lifted his lips from hers she was panting, her thoughts a chaotic tumble of incoherent erotic needs. She reached for him, with a hazy, half-formed thought of undressing him, but he caught her wrists in his hands and turned her, bringing her hard against him. She could feel his cock throbbing against her ass and moaned, pushing herself back against him. She moved her arms so his hands would rub against her breasts.

  “Sweet Dion…” Damian muttered. His grip on her wrists tightened. “You’re pushing me, Riley.” There was a note of warning in his voice that both frightened and aroused her beyond belief.

  She moaned. “Fuck me,” she begged. “Fuck me hard.”

  “Ah, Christos.” Damian’s tone was that of a desperate man. His hand snagged in the top of her camisole and yanked. The tough cotton gave way with a tired sound. He grabbed her bra and ripped it the same way and she was abruptly bare from the waist up. He spun her around to face him and there was a light in his eyes she had not seen before. Raw lust, animal need, unshuttered. He licked at her throat with a hungry growl, his hand fisted in her hair. His mouth worked its way down her flesh to her breasts as his hand lifted them one at a time for his mouth to latch on to each tip and sip at it. Then he nipped with his teeth, drawing them out, making the nipples hard, erect and rosy with arousal.

  Riley clutched at his shoulders, clawing at the coat he still wore, feeling an odd excitement at being half-naked while he was still fully clothed.

  Damian’s hand was at her belt buckle, unsnapping it, slipping the leather out of the slide, pushing the belt aside, and tackling the fastening of her jeans. His fingers brushed against the flesh of her abdomen, making her abs quiver and tighten and her pussy to throb in anticipation. Her clit was swollen, beating with promise, a bare inch or two from his fingers. She trembled with the possibilities.