Immortals After Dark 10 - Demon From the Dark

her creamy skin, he plunged his fangs.
    "Unh ..." He groaned against her as his lids slid closed. Her rich blood streamed into his mouth, even before he sucked her.
    Euphoria lit within him with each scorching drop.
    Soon the pressure in his cock couldn't be denied. Unable to control himself, he ground it against her backside. The intensity, the mindlessness ... so much fucking pleasure . A single thrust had him coming spontaneously, roaring with his release, snarling yells against her skin. He bucked against her over and over until the pressure receded at last.
    Spent, stunned, he collapsed atop her, reluctantly relinquishing his bite. Though he hadn't released his seed, the orgasm had been mind-boggling. And her searing blood continued to dance in his veins. Satisfaction overwhelmed him until he moaned with it.
    That had been only the beginning. At last, he'd know a woman. Soon his shaft would be buried in her secret flesh, pumping his seed deep inside her wetness. At the thought, he hardened at once.
    Before, he'd been so frenzied that he'd been unable to wait. Now he would claim her slowly.
    When he raised up to tell her as much, she struggled beneath him again. He eased his grip so she could twist around to face him. She stared at him with hatred, her vivid green eyes glinting.
    Did she still not understand that she was his female? He captured one of her hands and shoved her palm against his chest, over the heart she alone had brought back to life. "Minde jart."
    But she cried out in pain. Only then did he realize he'd broken her wrist in the struggle.
    He jerked away from her. She was an immortal of some kind--he sensed this. But she was no demoness, and now he'd hurt her with his unnatural strength.
    Abomination, his mind whispered.
    She rose unsteadily, looking at him as the Trothans had--with revulsion.
    When she began backing away, he said, "Alton, ara." Come, female . But she didn't speak Demonish.
    Damn it, 'twas not safe for her out here. In this plane lived a thousand different threats, beasts as well as other demon fugitives. He ran his hand over his face, then tried to communicate in Latin.
    In a low voice, she replied in Anglish. He'd heard her talking earlier but hadn't accepted that she spoke that cursed off-plane language. The one I learned as a boy from my master, his urgent mutterings in my ear ....
    The one the Viceroy had tried to force Malkom to speak. Desperate for one less trait to share with the vampires, Malkom had tortured himself to forget that language forever.
    How the Viceroy would have relished that Malkom's female spoke it!
    "Alton!" Once more, he ordered her to come to him.
    Surprisingly, her chin went up, her uninjured hand rising with a lewd gesture.
    He comprehended this. Females who were lewd often came from the lower classes. She could even be a slave, considering the collar round her neck and her provocative clothes.
    But everything else about her indicated nobility. A quick cataloging of her unusual dress revealed that her intricate boots were of the finest leather. She wore a sizable jeweled ring, and her ears were pierced for more adornments. He knew she wore silk, one of the most valuable commodities in Oblivion.
    She spoke again, the sounds clipped. Though he didn't understand the words, he distinguished the tone. She'd just given him a command. Definitely not a slave.
    Did this highborn think to order him? The demon urge to master his mate clawed within him.
    Dimly he realized she'd begun panting her breaths. Her green irises soon glimmered with pinpricks of light, like starbursts. Her visage was marked with aggression, her plump lips curling back from her little white teeth. But when she spoke, her words were purring, sounds tugging on his memories.
    He recognized the word vampire just as he spied light glowing in her palm.
    After the demon-vampire had drunk her and used her body as his plaything, he'd experienced pure satisfaction for the briefest moment. And she'd seized on it, fueling her power.
    Now she manifested the crackling energy in her good hand. It hadn't been much to feed on ... but she'd make do!
    "If you knew what kind of week I've had, you prick!" Carrow bombarded him, laserlike beams exploding from her. They connected with the dazed demon, pitching him into a rock face, the stone crumbling around him. "That's for biting me, Neanderthal."
    She'd never been drunk from before. He'd stolen her essence--and possibly so much more. How long would it take