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Category: Erotica/Paranormal Erotica/Romance
Description: A leonine Lycan, finds a naked, unconscious female. He analyzes her scent and discovers she's not Lycan but a clever fake. She's quite luscious, so he'll enjoy her regardless. Felinoid Demon, Naamah, is bait for a trap. Her King has altered her genetic makeup, stripped her powers and her memory. She believes she's human and isn't aware non-humans exist. The man who licks her awake is damnably sexy? but sex isn't exactly a priority when she can't remember her own name! When Brennan realizes the female has amnesia, his protective instincts grab him by the balls. He nick-names her Kitten and suggests finding a safe haven before nightfall. Kitten's so exhausted she finally lets Brennan carry her. When she drifts off, he shifts to his Were-Lion form. He's carrying Kitten into his lair when she stirs, and before he completes his shift, she opens her eyes. She freaks but eventually convinces herself she had a nightmare. Mention of Demon King, Asmodeus, leaves Kitten paralytic with fear. Brennan's touch banishes her private hell and replaces fear with lust. Now she's safe, she'll indulge in her desires. Kitten's irresistible. During sex, Brennan nips her neck and shockingly, the love-bite becomes a mating mark. Kitten isn't Lycan, and hadn't agreed to a mating. Brennan needs to consider the ramifications without distractions. He takes off, leaving Kitten locked inside. Kitten eventually escapes and wanders off, unaware she's being stalked by hyena-like monsters. Their alpha female, Cass, plans a gang-bang then a tasty Kitten-style snack. Kitten's rescued by Brennan's grandmother, who's gotta be one scary-ass woman to browbeat those fucked-up things! There could be more beasties lurking, so Kitten agrees to be taken to the Lycan court. Brennan's mother, the Queen, is hosting a toad-Demon Councilor. Brennan's obliged to attend, but can't concentrate on politics when he's obsessing over Kitten. The Queen had already selected a suitable mate for her son. When her mother turns up with Kitten, the Queen's livid and plans Kitten's demise. Brennan's touch causes Kitten's mark to blaze and she faints. He needs advice on how to help her, but first he must confirm what she is. He has his suspicions and hopes the toad-Demon will corroborate them. The Councilor identifies Kitten as Naamah, a Felinoid Demon. And because Asmodeus is secretly messing with him, he then assaults her. Brennan rips the toad-Demon apart, unwittingly reacting exactly as Asmodeus hoped. The Demon's blood is corrosive. Brennan's Were-Lion hide resists its effects as he wipes the stuff from Naamah's skin with his paws. Naamah's torn from unconsciousness by burning pain and thinks a monster is about to devour her. Hang on, the monster is Brennan? She doesn't know if she will ever accept his Were. Or that she's supposedly a demonic seductress! Brennan and Naamah are darted with tranquilizers. The Queen's arranged for the Hyenas to take Naamah but they take Brennan, too. By screwing with Naamah, Asmodeus flouted a shit-fuck-ton of rules, provoking an omnipotent Sentinel to intervene by restoring Naamah's memories and demonic abilities. Naamah comes to in a cave. Brennan's barely conscious, and shackled with be-spelled silver cuffs to prevent him shifting. She hears Cass approaching. She's sick with fear because she now remembers her litter-mates being devoured by a Were. Her only weapon is seduction so she assumes her Felinoid form. She whips Cass into an orgasmic frenzy. While the Were-Hyena is at her most vulnerable, Naamah shreds her heart. She frees Brennan--will he despise her now she's revealed her true self? Brennan shifts to Were and embraces her. Naamah realizes there's nothing to fear. His Were-Lion is a part of him, just like his Beast, and he loves her despite what she is. Her mark morphs to a lion's paw-print, proof she's confronted her demons and accepted Brennan. And when Brennan learns she's pregnant, he puts his long leonine tongue to very good use indeed. To My Readers: While writing Even Demons Get The Blues, the first novella in my Demons series, it wasn't easy convincing a certain stroppy Felinoid Demon to back off and let the actual hero and heroine take center stage. I knew that I would eventually have to give her her own story. And I knew that she needed a very special hero, too--a man who wasn't going to take any bullshit from her, a man who would ultimately teach her that what she thinks is love, is merely a pale imitation of the real thing. She takes a heckuva lot of convincing, though, and I hope that you will enjoy her struggle as she finds her happy ever after with her shape-shifting Lion prince. Kitty vs Lion?. Watch the fur fly in Let Sleeping Demons Lie!
eBook Publisher: Red Sage Publishing/Red Sage Presents, 2010 2010
eBookwise Release Date: August 2010

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Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [182 KB]
Words: 36780
Reading time: 105-147 min.

Prologue

"And so," Councillor Belphegor droned, "my proposal will ensure that Demonkind remain pure, unsullied."

Asmodeus, King of all Demons and currently wishing he wasn't any such thing, snorted. Duh! As if Demonkind weren't abominations already. Wasn't that the whole freaking point? "Good luck trying to enforce that, you old douche-bag."

"What was that you said?" Belphegor, belatedly remembering just who he had the privilege of addressing, added, "Your Eminence?"

"Merely thinking aloud." Asmodeus rubbed his jaw and gave Belphegor's proposal due consideration. Yeah. Riiight, he thought. What a pile of shit. The Toad Demon's brain must have finally oozed out his ear and pissed off to find a more worthy host.

The Councillors respected their King's preoccupation for bare seconds before they had the temerity to talk amongst themselves. Asmodeus tuned them out while he wrestled with his anger. He'd been closeted with these idiots for hours, forced to exert all his powers of persuasion to thwart one asinine fucking proposal after another. He was way past anger and bordering on furious, which was not at all an emotion he was desirous of succumbing to at present. If he acted on the rage pricking him to do what his instincts dictated, he'd rip the heads off each and every last one of these drooling half-wits and suck them dry.

Second thoughts, scratch that image. He wouldn't suck them dry. Their blood was so bland, their minds so weak and cowardly, it would not be worth the effort. He would slash their throats and let them bleed out, buff his nails while their insipid lifeblood seeped all over his lovely shiny marble floor. Maybe amuse himself by skating in it. Oh, yeah.

Unfortunately, the strictures Lucifer had placed on him were such that Asmodeus could not allow himself to indulge in such delights. Murdering Council members was a big fat no-no. Asmodeus could threaten them, maybe torture them if he was truly provoked, but he couldn't off them.

At least, not personally. Not overtly.

He gnawed on his lower lip with his fangs and absently licked at the droplets of blood. The time had come for him to replace these ancient Council members with more open-minded, progressive beings. It was time to usher in a new regime, one where Demons earned the privilege of sitting on the Council rather than being accorded it merely because they'd survived to a great age. Lucifer take them, but those present today had only survived by dint of their cravenness, always fleeing and hiding themselves at the merest whiff of a threat to their mangy hides.

And these pathetic, jabbering excuses for Demons presumed to dictate policy to him--their King, for fuck's sake! All personal risk to his own awesome ass aside, an "unfortunate event" was lurking in the future of each and every Council member. And he would start with the most irritating of the lot, Belphegor.

On cue, the perfect solution solidified in his devious mind. A wide grin split his face, and he beamed at the Councillors with such a blinding flash of teeth and fangs that those still possessing a modicum of intelligence reared back. "An interesting proposal indeed, Belphegor," he drawled.

The portentous lump of lard called Belphegor lacked even the intelligence to be concerned by the unholy glee glowing in his King's eyes. Fat fool.

"The Lycan Queen has requested my assistance with a minor matter, but you may attend her in my stead." Which was a bald-faced lie, but then, Asmodeus excelled at lying. "It will be the perfect opportunity for you to explain this proposal of yours to Queen Marlena and win her over to your excellent cause."

"But...but...." Belphegor blustered, obviously appalled by the suggestion that he get off his flabby ass and do something remotely resembling work.

Asmodeus pinned the indolent Councillor with a gaze that brooked no further argument. "You will leave tomorrow, Belphegor."

The Councillor wouldn't survive his encounter with the Lycans. The minute he opened his mouth he would likely insult one of the volatile creatures--he was just that fucking stupid. And a teensy bit of psychic tampering would prod him to commit some heinous act that would see him ripped to shreds. Thus, Asmodeus could demand reparations from the Lycan Realm, even as they rid him of a huge pain in his ass.

And he knew the perfect creature to rile up those oversexed Lycan males so they couldn't tell their brains from their dicks.

A delectable little temptation Belphegor wouldn't be able to resist either.

Of course, it would mean some major tampering so that the Lycans wouldn't suspect her as a plant. Did he dare? By Lucifer's hairy asshole, he dared! He ran his tongue over his lower lip, savoring the wickedness of it all.

Nothing was quite so satisfying as killing two Demons with one stone.

Chapter One

Brennan inhaled, testing the breeze. He was a Lion Prime, that most alpha of alphas, and his humanoid body reacted instantly to the scent. He shifted into his Beast form, shed the ragged remains of his clothing, and was racing toward the tree line before his brain even finished processing what he'd scented. Female. Lioness. Of impeccable lineage. In heat....

His blood sang with the need to claim her.

Her scent filled his nostrils, soaked through his skin, poured through his veins in a heady rush more potent than any drug humans could concoct. Her unique essence coated his tongue. He savored her, bittersweet and richly seductive as the Dutch chocolate that was his secret vice. The taste of her exploded in his mouth, and he swallowed her down, took her inside him, absorbed her very being.

Pakhet's paws! If her scent was anything to go by, she would be an outstanding creature.

She'd thrown herself to the Lions, and it would be a race to get to her first. A race he intended to make sure he won.

He roared a challenge to other leonine Primes who were even now tracking her and closing in on her position. But instead of a higher-pitched roar from the female in answer to the claim he'd staked, there was nothing. Silence.

Brennan slowed his headlong rush to a lope. Whiskers twitching, all senses on hyper-alert, he followed his nose, his powerful body wending through the underbrush. He paused to scent the air, confirming what he already knew.

He was first to arrive.

He padded toward the clearing, supremely confident of his welcome despite the fact that the female hadn't answered his call. He was a Lycan Prime. No matter what form he chose, Beast, Were-Beast or humanoid, he was a magnificent specimen. Irresistible. Any female would be privileged to mate with him.

And here was the privileged female. She'd opted for her vulnerable humanoid form and, like a trusting child, curled up beneath a tree. Asleep, apparently.

But not for much longer.

Brennan scented five males closing in. He shook his heavy mane, began with a low rumble that segued to a full-throated deafening roar as he staked his claim to all comers.

The female was his.

For as long as he wanted her.

He waited, still and alert, forelegs planted wide, shoulders hunched high, hoping one of the approaching Primes might be terminally stupid enough to interfere. A good battle would do even more for his mating drive. But the males knew from experience exactly what Brennan was capable of. They backed off and left him with the prize.

Brennan switched his full focus back to the female. Given the strength and duration of his roar, he expected her to have already shifted to her Beast form. She should be wide awake and waiting, lying on her belly with her butt in the air, flaunting her sex. Willing. Wet. Quivering with the need to take him within her body.

She hadn't stirred.

This was more than mere sleep. Had she been drugged and deposited here for who knew what twisted reason?

Brennan was Prime enough that he could dampen the sexual haze of the mating imperative and refuse to succumb to it. He wasn't that far gone. Not yet.

He analyzed her scent again. It was so tantalizingly similar to a true Lycan Lioness that it would fool most. But not him. He stroked her mind with his, probed deeper and assessed her aura.

She was Other, but just what flavor, he had no idea.

Not Angel, pure or fallen. He'd had the misfortune to encounter both in the past, and he'd been limp-dicked as a Demon male the rest of the day!

There was no trace of animal blending with her aura, not the slightest hint of a primary form. So nor was she Demon. Not that he would bother to toy with one of their females. He might have a powerful sex drive, but he wasn't that desperate.

Could she be human?

He discarded that startling notion instantly. Not even a Damned human female, indoctrinated to the Dark Arts from the cradle, possessed the ability to replicate this scent. And although humans might intentionally visit the Demon Realm from time to time, none had ever dared breech the Lycan Realm.

Her scent mantled him, seeping into his pores, fizzing through his veins, and all thought of taking the female to his mother and dumping the entire mystery in her royal lap was smothered by more pressing concerns. Like the heavy tightness in his scrotum and the almost unbearable stiffness of his cock. Like the desire to plant his seed in her, fuck her until she quickened and ripened with his young.

Whoa there! The pheromones she was giving off were seriously messing with his head. No way would he intentionally impregnate an unknown quantity. But fucking her? That was a whole 'nother issue.

First, he would find out if she had drugs in her system.

Her limbs twitched. She shivered, curled up in an even tighter ball, the vulnerable knobs of her spine curving as she burrowed her head deeper in the crook of her arm, her face completely obscured by the thick, ebony mass of her hair. Her buttocks reminded him of a ripe peach. Her pouting nether-lips, rosy and glistening, invited him to lick and suck and lap.

He prowled toward her, sniffed her sex, swiped his rough tongue over her slit, tasted her.

Her taste exploded on his tongue. Sweet Pakhet! He took a deep breath, inhaled her unique aroma. Ahhh. Delicious.

And although she was ovulating, it hadn't been mating-induced, for he could detect no other male's scent mingling with hers. Nor could he detect any sign of drugs. The only taint he identified was one of extreme physical exhaustion.

She might not be what he expected, but she'd sure put him in the mood. Given the way she smelled, unconscious or not, she was in the mood, too. And Brennan was just the Lycan to give her what she wanted.

He shifted to his humanoid form and crouched behind her, ran a hand over her hip and down the length of her thigh, her skin--so pale, so smooth. Silky soft.

Gently, he uncurled her limbs and rolled her onto her back to admire her. He supposed her face was what humans called classically beautiful. But with her eyes closed and no emotion animating her features, she reminded him of a porcelain doll. A rather tragic porcelain doll, if one considered the bluish bruises beneath her eyes.

The rest of her was a sweet little package. She was more rounded than the tightly muscled, athletic females of his kind--not plump, merely sleekly curved. Her breasts were more than a handful, even given the size of his hands. Voluptuous, with dusky, jutting nipples just begging him to suckle. But enticing as her tits were, he knew what he wanted.

And he would take it. She was female, in heat, unmarked. The laws of the Realm decreed that Brennan had every right to mate with her.

He growled deep in his throat, anticipating the pleasure of seducing her to wakefulness and then sheathing his aching cock in her feminine flesh. And as he devoured her with his predatory gaze, he knew that no law yet written would stop him from fucking her.

Her body unconsciously responded to his need, and her sex wept for him, a creamy coating begging him to taste. He spread her thighs, buried his nose in her folds and inhaled.

She was the best thing he'd ever smelled.

Slipping his hands beneath her ass, he tilted her hips to open her more fully. He lapped and laved, suckled. Feasted.

Her stomach muscles rippled, and her thighs clenched about his head. She moaned.

He grinned and nipped her clit, hands tightening on her hips when she bucked. "You're awake. Good."

Her eyelids fluttered, flew open, her gaze bemused and dazed. With a noticeable effort she focused on him, and her body stiffened. Her eyes narrowed, flashing searing emerald-green fire. "Get. Your. Hands. Off. Me."

He sat up, still idly stroking her clit as he watched and analyzed the expressions flitting across her features.

Awareness. Desire....

Fury.

He read her intentions in the tensing of her muscles. He allowed her to launch herself at him, delighting in her sass even though his hands were abruptly full of spitting, clawing, altogether far-too-desirable female. He caught her hands before she could blood him with her sharp nails, hauled her to her feet and backed her against the trunk of the nearest tree.

She loosed a shriek worthy of a Banshee and tried to knee him in the balls.

Unsuccessfully, of course. A rank amateur when it came to combat, she telegraphed her every move. Before she could even squeak, he had her right where he wanted her, arms stretched above her head with her wrists shackled by his hand, thighs spread wide to accommodate his big body. "Mmmmm. Feisty. I do like my females lively. They taste so much better that way." He pressed his groin to the juncture of her thighs.

She froze.

"Go on," he purred, leaning in to sniff her neck and lick the delicate skin beneath her ear. "Fight me some more."

Her eyes widened as the truth of her situation smacked her. Her body was pinned by his, her feet dangling off the ground. He'd imprisoned her hands with one of his, but the other cupped her ass. If she so much as twitched her hips, he would be inside her.

She struggled to control her breathing, shivering as his lips moved lower to trace her collarbones before dipping to her breasts.

Her scent flared, intensifying as he licked her nipple.

His own scent poured from him in waves, mingling with hers to create something new, something compelling. It stroked their naked skin, commanding them to slake their desires.

And he knew she desired him. He smelled it, tasted it beading on her skin. He heard it in the abrupt hitch of her panting breaths as he drew her nipple fully into his mouth, rolling it around his tongue, teasing it until it swelled and engorged like a ripe cherry. He noted it in the sweetly pink blush of arousal painting her pale skin as he turned his attention to her other breast. He felt it in the heat of her cleft, in the creamy wetness of her feminine flesh against his skin. He grinned, knowing he was Prime, knowing no female in her right mind could resist him.

He left off suckling to gaze at her, expecting to see her features glazed with desire and lust.

She huffed a breath through her nostrils. "Hurry up then. Fuck me already! I've got important things to be getting on with."

He blinked at this unlikely response. "Like what?"

"Like figuring out how I got here and where the hell I am."

Somehow, Brennan reversed the blood flow from his cock and re-circulated it round his brain cells. "You don't know where you are or how you got here?"

She impaled him with a glare his mother would be proud to call her own. "Duh. Isn't that what I just said? Add to that, I haven't a clue where my clothes are or why you think you have the right to pounce on me. Where I come from we...." She caught her lower lip in her teeth. "Where I come from--oh, hell! I can't seem to remember where I come from." She laughed, but it was a forced, uneasy sound. "Wherever, we don't pounce on each other without an invitation. Okay?" She tried a fierce frown on for size and thrust out her lower lip, reminding him so much of a young cub making like a big bad cat that he had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing.

"Okay." Yeah. Riiight. Didn't matter where she came from. So long as there were horny males and sexy little feminine packages like her, there would be pouncing going on. It was the nature of the male beast. "And just so you know, you're in the Lycan Realm."

"Oh."

She barely reacted at all, like mention of the Lycan Realm didn't mean anything to her. He would pretty much bet his tail she hadn't a clue what Lycans were. Lucky she hadn't come to when he'd tasted her in Beast-form, or she would have freaked!

"So what's with the whole running-round-naked thing?" she asked. "You guys get off on flaunting your bits, huh?"

"Yep. See anything you like in particular? I'm more than happy to let you get up close and personal."

A crimson flush bloomed on her neck, creeping up to paint her cheekbones. But given the mixed signals she gave off, whether the blush was embarrassment or lust was hard to tell.

"What's your name?" he asked, genuinely intrigued.

"It's--" Her brows knit in a perplexed frown. "I can't seem to remember that rather pertinent fact, either. Guess I must have knocked myself silly or something."

Oh yeah? Like that explained anything. "My name's Brennan," he said.

"Oh. Thanks. I guess." She ducked her head, but not before he'd seen that lickable lower lip wobble and detected the tiny sniff of a female obviously trying not to cry.

And just like that, all his protective male instincts grabbed him by the balls and started yammering in his ear.

Shit. With a heartfelt sigh, he eased away from her and set her on her feet. He was Prime. No way could he fuck a female in trouble--a vulnerable female who couldn't even remember her own name. His painfully hard cock-stand was gonna have to take a temporary vacation until he got this sorted. "Don't cry, Kitten. We'll figure out who you are and where you came from, and then I'll get you back where you belong. I promise."

Her chin lifted. Her green eyes, luminous with tears, peered up at him through the curtain of her hair. "You're not going to fuck me?"

He grinned. "I wouldn't say that. But I'm not going to fuck you right now."

The tiniest hint of a smile quirked her lips. She knuckled away a tear and tossed her hair over her shoulder, smoothing it back from her face. "Gee. Thanks for the heads up." Her gaze slid to his groin, lingered, then took a leisurely journey back up his body before fixing on his face. Her scent thickened.

It damn near did him in.

And she was damn lucky he was strong enough to cage his baser instincts, or he'd have shoved her to the ground and been deep inside her before she could blink. "Excuse the show, but you smell too damned good for this"--he glared at his unrepentant cock--"to listen to reason."

"I do?"

"Oh, yeah. You really do."

"Oh. Sorry."

She didn't sound particularly sorry.

Pakhet's tender tits! He wasn't going to get anywhere like this. Her scent. Her naked body. His hard-on. Hardly gonna help him with his self-imposed role of protector and his promise to solve the mystery surrounding her.

Clothes. He needed clothes. But until he knew exactly who--and what--she was, he was reluctant to reveal the full extent of his powers. Instead of conjuring clothing, he stalked to a convenient bush and pretended to find a cache of spare clothes behind it. He bent to pull on jeans. "You're not gonna take off the minute my back's turned, are you?" He glanced back to verify with his eyes what his other senses told him, that she was still there.

She stood staring at his ass with the kind of absorbed, appreciative expression of a female who knew what she liked in a male. He hid a grin as he buttoned his fly. Appeared he was the kind of male she liked.

He tossed his shirt at her. "For the sake of my sanity, I'd appreciate you wearing it."

"How come?"

He bit back a groan at her unfortunate phrasing. "Down, boy," he ordered his still misbehaving cock.

"Ohhh!" Her gaze fastened on the bulge of his erection, and she blushed again.

"Not to mention at least five other males sniffing round who won't necessarily be as chivalrous as I've been, not if you flaunt your sweet little naked rear at them."

She finished the last of the buttons and tugged the shirt down over her thighs. "You trying to tell me that if you hadn't found me first, I'd be fair game?"

"Kitten, you're female." He ignored the "Well, duh!" eyes she gave him. "And the scent you're giving off is irresistible. You can hardly blame them for wanting you."

She sniffed her armpit. "Huh. Don't think I'm that whiffy. Or are you guys just ultra-sensitive in the nasal department or something?"

"Or something. And in our Realm, you on your own, smelling as delicious as you do, means you belong to whoever gets to you first. Count yourself lucky it was me."

"Meaning?" Her question was couched lightly enough, but the emotions chasing across her face indicated that she knew it was a loaded question.

"Meaning, I'm Prime, and I'll rip out the throat of any other male who so much as lays a finger on you."

She uttered a shaky laugh and took a step back, her gaze fixed on him as if he was a predator about to pounce if she made a wrong move.

Which he was, of course.

"Isn't that a bit of an overreaction?" she squeaked.

"You're mine, Kitten. And no one touches my property...except me." He smiled, luxuriating in her shiver, anticipating the coming chase. And her inevitable surrender.