Shadow Marked Read online

  “I don’t give a shit if you’ve got an—”

  “I have an appointment!” When Jace grabbed her she tried to twist away from him again, but this time he held firm. Still, even having at least six inches and fifty pounds on the woman, Sam wasn’t easy to hold on to. She probably would have given one of the smaller demons a run for its money with her deadly little cane. It was only bad luck that she’d crossed paths with a Ju Du.

  “You can reschedule.”

  “I can’t! I’m late already. Jace, let go of me.” She twisted in his arms, nearly brushing against where he was in a most inappropriate state. Fucking hard-on. He obviously needed to make time to stop by Deanna’s for a quickie if a little mouse like Sam Quinn was making him respond like this. “I have flowers hidden behind a Dumpster!”

  He laughed, a sharp bark of sound that surprised him. “Behind a Dumpster?”

  “I knew I had to have my hands free,” she said, spinning to face him when he released her arms. “I’m not totally stupid.”

  “Just mostly stupid,” he said, his voice harder than he intended. But the thought of her doing something like this again scared him, and he wasn’t a man who experienced fear often. He didn’t like it. He needed to be certain she was going to make smarter decisions in the future. “I don’t want to see you anywhere near this area again.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Stay clear of the streets near the ruins. Call Stephen to come get you, or call a car service if you need to—”

  “Where do you get off?” she asked, stepping closer, until he could smell the light floral scent that clung to her hair. “You’re not my father or my brother or my boyfriend. Hell, I wouldn’t have even said we were friends, would you?”

  Jace stared down into those eerie eyes of hers, not knowing what to say, knowing only that the outraged look on Sam’s face made him want to show her exactly where he “got off.” And how he’d get her off, again and again, until she came so hard she screamed his name and clung to him, those strong, smooth legs wrapped around his hips as—

  “Would you?”

  Would he what? He couldn’t seem to remember the question. His thoughts were too shocking, too wrong.

  This was his friend’s sister, a sweet girl he’d watched grow up since she was fourteen. He’d been twenty when the Quinns moved into the neighborhood, and she’d been a kid he barely noticed, a shy little shadow who haunted the apartment above her brother’s bar. He realized she’d become a woman sometime between then and now, but not the kind of woman he took back to his place. Forget the fact that she wasn’t even close to being his type; Stephen would kill him if he found out Jace had gotten his dick within ten feet of his sister.

  “Honestly, I’m curious. Would you say we’re friends? Is that why you feel entitled to order me around like a child? Or is it because of my brother?” she asked. “Since he’s your friend, it gives you the right to play big brother when he’s not around?”

  She stepped even closer, her chocolate-and-coffee breath warm on his chin. If he tilted his head just the slightest bit, they’d be close enough for him to taste her. And, damn, did he want to taste her. Badly enough that he forced himself to take a small step back, putting a safer distance between them.

  “Or is this just the way you are with all women?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t associate with a lot of women in my line of work.”

  “That’s not true.” Sam’s tongue swept out across her lips, and her voice was breathier than it had been a second before. “You associate with lots of women, and you seem to like the ones who know how to take orders.”

  She couldn’t be saying what it seemed she was saying. No one knew what he preferred in the bedroom—no one except the women he slept with, and they weren’t the types to talk. That was a big part of why he chose them. They knew when to keep their mouths shut, when to submit, when to … take orders, just like Sam had said. He wasn’t an asshole—pleasuring his partner was always his first priority—but he wanted that pleasure to be on his terms.

  No, he needed it to be on his terms. He had to have control in the bedroom—of himself, of his partner, of the entire encounter. It was the only way to make sure everything stayed safe, sane, and consensual. The few times he’d let himself go hadn’t been good scenes. There was too much bottled up inside him that needed to stay bottled.

  “Well, I’m not so good at taking orders.” Sam eased slowly closer, eliminating the space he’d put between them. “But with the right man, in the right situation, I think I could enjoy the alpha-male thing.”

  Hell, no. This couldn’t happen. No matter what she thought she enjoyed, she wasn’t his type of woman. She was too soft, too sweet, too … good. Especially for him. “Sam, I think you’d better—”

  “But not when the man hasn’t earned my trust or my affection or even my friendship,” she said, moving even closer, until her slim body was pressed against his and the thick bulge of his arousal nudged the soft flesh of her belly. But surprisingly, she didn’t seem shocked by the fact that he had a hard-on for her that wouldn’t quit. In fact, she didn’t seem to notice his cock at all. Her attention was still completely on his face, her eyes boring into his own until he was positive she could see every secret he’d never told. “So, in the future, if you want to tell me what to do, you’ll need to earn the privilege.”

  “Is that right?” He smiled. She frowned in response, making him wonder if she had heard the amusement in his voice.

  No matter how troubled he was by his own response to her, Sam’s assumption that she would be defining the terms of their relationship did amuse him. It also made him want to take her home and show her who was in control, to show her what an “alpha male” could do for her in the bedroom.

  Jesus. He had to get away from Sammy Quinn. The sooner, the better.

  “Come on. We’ve wasted enough time.”

  “Then leave. I’m not asking you to stay,” she said, shifting her weight to her heels, putting just a breath between them, a breath he didn’t like. Smart or not, he liked feeling every inch of her pressed against every inch of him.

  “I’m going to walk you home first. Let’s go.”

  She shifted forward again, pinning him against the wall. He could have pushed her away, of course—she didn’t weigh much more than she had as a kid—but he didn’t. “You need to quit assuming you’re the walking boss, Jace.”

  “So now you’re telling me what to do?” he asked, unable to resist the temptation to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her closer, even though his gut was screaming that this was a very bad idea. “I thought you said I liked to be the one calling the shots.”

  “Who said I cared what you like?” Her breath rushed out as his hands trailed down over the curve of her ass, molding her firm flesh in his hands. “Besides, I don’t think you know what you like.”

  This just kept getting more damned interesting.

  “I like telling women what to do, bossing them around like some bully over at PS 124, right? That’s what you think.”

  “Taking control in the bedroom doesn’t mean you’re a bully. I know that,” she said, her voice soft, intimate, and the way she lingered on the word control nearly enough to make him explode.

  Jace was suddenly beset by images of Sam kneeling on the floor in front of him, naked and willing, her fingers sliding between her legs as he ordered her to pleasure herself. To bring herself to the edge of completion and then stop, waiting until he gave her permission to finish. Or, better yet, until he finished the job himself.

  What would Sammy taste like when he lowered his head between her legs? What would she scream when she came against his mouth? Would she be the type to fist the sheets in her fingers or would she reach her hands down and pull him closer, forcing his tongue even deeper into her salty heat?

  A groan escaped from the back of his throat that he did his best to swallow.

  “But wouldn’t it be interesting if things were a little
more … challenging?” Sam’s hips tilted forward ever so slightly, nudging where he was as hard as the bricks behind him. “If you gave a real woman a chance?”

  “I’m a big boy, Sam,” he said, gritting his teeth, forcing himself to maintain control, not to let this go any further than it had already. “I’ve had plenty of women.”

  “I don’t think you’ve ever had a woman. I think you’re afraid of women.”

  “Is that right?” His body went tense for a moment before he forced himself to relax. Sam had no idea how close she was to the truth, though not at all in the way she was implying. That was one secret he’d never told anyone.

  Not even his uncle Francis, who had flown to China to pick him up after his parents were killed, who had been a father to him since he was eight, knew why Jace avoided anything more meaningful than a casual screw. Of course, Francis did his share of casual screwing—despite being married for nearly thirty years—and he probably didn’t think twice about his nephew’s lack of attachment.

  “That’s why you sleep with girls too young to know what they want.”

  “As opposed to ancient women in their early twenties?” He smiled again. Sam couldn’t be more than twenty-three or twenty-four, and she still looked like a teenager.

  “I’m old enough to know what I want.”

  “And what is that?” he asked, the feeling that he was crossing some forbidden line making his heart beat faster than it had in years. Demon hunting was dangerous, but not as dangerous as Samantha Quinn. And it wasn’t the fact that her brother would try to kill him for touching his sister. It was Sam herself. He’d had no idea she was so … irresistible.

  “I think it might be you,” she said, standing on tiptoe, bringing her lips closer to his.

  “You think. You don’t know?”

  “Not yet, but I will.” And then she kissed him. She kissed him. He let a woman make the first move for the first time in years and it felt inexplicably right. Everything about Sam felt right—her ass in his hands, her fingers digging into the back of his neck, her mouth hot against his, her moan as he slid his tongue between her lips, tasting the unique flavor of this woman who had totally blindsided him.

  Blindsided by a blind girl.

  It should have been an amusing thought, but Jace didn’t feel like laughing. This wasn’t funny. This was a mistake, a huge mistake. But that didn’t stop him from spinning Sam in his arms and pressing her up against the wall. It didn’t slow his hands as he grabbed her behind the knees and spread her legs, hitching her up around his waist. It only made him feel like the very bad man he truly was. The last kind of man Sam should even think about getting involved with.

  If he were a better person, he would have cared enough to stop. But he wasn’t. So he didn’t. He just kissed her harder and let his fingers trail up the silky smooth skin of her inner thigh.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Near-death experiences were entirely underrated.

  Sure, nearly getting taken out by a demon had been terrifying—her stomach still churned and her bones vibrated with adrenaline aftershocks—but if she hadn’t almost died, she wouldn’t be living this moment. This moment she’d dreamed of for years, since she was way too young to be involved with any man, let alone a man like Jace.

  God, Jace. How many times had she imagined what she’d say to him if she had the chance? If he ever noticed her as anything other than Stephen’s sad, blind little sister?

  A hundred times. At least.

  But her imaginings had always ended with her own hand between her legs, her body struggling to believe it was Jace who touched her. Or who ordered her to touch herself.

  She’d guessed that Jace was the kind who liked more submissive women. Despite a healthy dose of women’s lib in college and a thirst for independence fueled by living with her overprotective brother, Sam still fantasized about being one of those women. She’d dreamed of being with Jace so many times, it was almost impossible to believe this was really happening.

  It was really Jace Lu’s tongue sliding between her lips, Jace Lu’s hands cupping her ass, Jace Lu’s cock pulsing between her legs. Even with the thick fabric of his jeans between them, she could feel how hot he was, could imagine how he’d burn every inch of her when he shoved inside where she ached.

  “Spread your legs,” he ordered, and she obeyed without hesitation, her body thrilling to do as Jace commanded, just like she’d always imagined it would. “Wider.”

  She moaned as she forced her legs impossibly wider and the hard ridge of Jace’s cock ground against her clit. “You make me so…”

  “So what? Tell me, Sammy.”

  “So … wet.” She writhed against him, frantic for him to finish what he’d started.

  No, what she’d started. He was taking the lead, but she was the one who had started this. There was no turning back now, even if she’d wanted to. Which she didn’t, not for a split second.

  “Fuck, Sammy.” He groaned into her mouth, the need in his voice making her head spin.

  “Yes. That’s a great idea,” she said, the fear that still throbbed through her veins making her bolder than she’d ever been in her life.

  He laughed, a tight sound that made it clear how she affected him. She made him crazy. She, Samantha Quinn, the girl he’d always treated like a child to be pitied, was making him lose his infamous cool. It was an intoxicating realization, even more dizzying than the feel of his soft lips trailing down her neck.

  “We’re not ten feet from the main street. Someone could see. Is that okay with you? If someone sees me fucking you?” he asked, in a way that made it clear he didn’t give a good goddamn.

  Good. She didn’t either.

  “I don’t care. I don’t care who sees.” And she didn’t. She didn’t care about anything except getting Jace inside her. Maybe it was the fact that she’d nearly died, or maybe it was just that she’d wanted this man for way too long to risk losing her chance. “I want you. Can you feel how much I want you?”

  He muttered something in Chinese with that Brooklyn accent of his. The combination had always secretly amused her, but right now the foreign words whispering across her skin only made her hotter. As hot as his warm breath against her throat and his fingers smoothing up her thigh, cupping her mound through her underwear before pulling the crotch to one side and sliding his fingers inside of her.

  “Jace!” She threw her head back, banging it on the bricks, but she didn’t care about the pain. Even pain felt like pleasure when Jace was touching her like this. His thick fingers speared in and out of her, driving inside her, filling every aching inch.

  Even in her dreams, she’d never imagined it would be so perfect, that his touch would make her shatter apart even as another part of her was coming together for the first time. Kissing Jace, feeling Jace’s hands on her, made her feel safe in a way she’d never thought she could. It was like she’d been free-falling through some vast, terrifying blackness and suddenly had someone to hold on to.

  They were still falling—that hadn’t changed—but now they were falling together.

  “I want to fuck this pussy, Sammy,” he mumbled against her lips, his words sending the knot of tension in her womb spiraling higher. “Are you ready for me to fuck my pussy?”

  His pussy. His. The way he’d taken such casual ownership of her body should have made her angry, but it didn’t. It was what she wanted, what she’d always wanted. She wanted to belong to Jace, every last part of her, and her pussy was a fine place to start.

  “Yes, fuck your pussy,” she said, surprised how right the coarse words felt in her mouth.

  Sure, she’d read her share of erotic novels, but she’d never had the chance to play the wild, naughty girl in real life. Her few boyfriends had always insisted on keeping things soft and sweet in the bedroom. One had even told her that it wasn’t sexy to play rough with a blind woman, that it was like “kicking a three-legged dog.”

  They’d been broken up before she’d gotten her panti
es back on. That asshole clearly hadn’t understood her or what she craved.

  But Jace did, as was evidenced by the way he ripped away her panties, without a word of apology for ruining her sensible black underwear.

  She knew it was black because all her underwear was black. All her clothes were black or brown, ensuring that she never picked out an outrageous color combination. It was one of the tricks she’d learned through the years, one of the ways she’d adapted. Not that she could quite remember what the colors black or brown really looked like anymore. Everything she’d seen before that night in the barn was a blur, a muddled collection of memories that her adult mind couldn’t seem to sort out, no matter how hard she tried.

  As if summoned by her thoughts, cold fire began to burn the backs of her eyes. It was like a brain freeze from drinking a chocolate malt too fast, but a hundred times less innocent.

  And a thousand times more terrifying.

  “Sammy.” She heard Jace whisper her name as if from a great distance and realized he’d unzipped his pants and was using the head of his cock to circle her clit. His pre-cum mingled with the wetness of her body, making the swollen tip slide back and forth across her with an unparalleled eroticism. Her breath hitched, and every nerve ending screamed out its approval. She was going to come, right now, before he’d even shoved inside her.

  But even as her nipples drew tight and things low in her body clenched with the force of her release, her mind experienced an explosion of an entirely different, entirely awful variety.

  It was like a bubble burst behind her eyes and suddenly she was somewhere else, someone else. She was someone who could see, but she couldn’t envy them their sight, not even for a second. What they were seeing was too awful.

  There was an evil presence with them in the room. Sam could smell the same noxious scent she’d smelled before she’d entered the ruins. It made her choke as she turned to reach out to the person next to her. The other person was small, but Sam sensed it was a man even though it was impossible to make out his face. There was too much blood. Blood pouring from his mouth and eyes, blood running through the hands he pressed frantically to his face, trying to hold back his death with feeble human fingers.