Chain of Lust (4 page)

Her throat went dry. “Jean-Luc.”

He rose from the sofa and stalked towards her. For a moment, the room dimmed as the dark shadow billowed behind him, slowly devouring any shed of light in her apartment. Maddie unconsciously halted her breath as he advanced closer. Every cell in her body froze.

“Maddie,” he called out.

His voice affected her like a lover’s caress. The gentle, thrilling rasp made the base of her spine tingle. Out of nowhere, her body reacted to him. A hot flush rushed through her head. Her nipples hardened to attention. Her pussy clenched. Maddie swayed and grabbed the dining room chair.

Maddie forced herself to meet his piercing gaze, telling herself she wouldn’t be intimidated by his imposing stature. “What do you want?”

An amused chuckle escaped him. “I believe we have unfinished business. I’ve come to collect.”

“Oh.” Maddie took a step back. The kiss. The Hellhound wanted the kiss. She didn’t know why, but she found herself anticipating it.
What the hell’s wrong with me?
And since when did that accent sound so sexy? Jean-Luc’s French accent wasn’t that thick. His deep, bass-baritone voice was pleasant to hear. His speech was cultured. But the faint dialect of his native tongue that lingered in every syllable when he spoke made him sound so seductive and exotic. She gulped hard, nervous. “Well.”

“Well?” he echoed in a mocking tone.

“Well, let’s get it over with.”

“Hmm,” he purred like a contented cat. “I almost think you’re actually looking forward to it.”

“Jerk.” Maddie shoved him.

Jean-Luc caught her wrists. “Getting violent, are we?” He yanked her closer, trapping her body between his solid bulk and the dining room table.

Maddie stifled her breath. His large hand swallowed hers and his body felt like a tower before her. She only came up to his chest and she wasn’t exactly a pixie. Her five-foot-seven stature was considered tall for humans. But the Hellhound was a large man.

Jean-Luc let go of one of her hands. He caressed her cheek gently, as if she were a fragile porcelain trinket. A glitter of electricity shimmered beneath her skin, and full blown lust swept over her. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t looking forward to that kiss.

“You’re so beautiful,
chérie
,” he whispered. “So beautiful, a man like me couldn’t help wanting to claim what shouldn’t be claimed.” He traced the outline of her lips with the tips of his fingers. “You and I aren’t supposed to be together. You’re a pretty thing and I’m—”

“—the walking dead.” She couldn’t help interject.

“I was once a human.”

“How did you become a Hellhound?”

“Redemption.”

“What did you do?”

“A curious cat, I see. I’ll tell you all when you become mine.”

“When.” Maddie snorted. “Kind of cocky of yourself, Mister. Is that all?”

“No,
chérie
. I promised that when I do collect my payment, I would want your complete surrender.”

“I have to start my shift in ten minutes. My boss is expecting me.”

“He can wait. I can’t. I’ve wanted this ever since I saw you outside Maison Plaisir. And I don’t want to be rushed when I’m enjoying my prize.”

“But—”

“No buts. I’ll claim what is meant to be mine.” Jean-Luc slid a hand on the small of her back and swept her off the floor. He glanced around. “I suppose that is your bedroom?”

Maddie squeaked out a protest. He ignored her and carried her to her bed. He deposited her in the middle of the mattress. Seconds later, the bed dipped and his body was on top of hers.

Maddie trembled. He’d said he wanted her complete surrender. His eyes locked on hers. They were blue. They had been blazing red when she’d first seen him outside Maison Plaisir, when he’d confronted her tormentors. An unmistakable hunger emanated from his eyes. A shiver of thrill coursed down her spine. Every fibre of her being hummed with anticipation.

Jean-Luc whispered her name as he settled his lips on hers. Her full name—the name she didn’t dare to divulge. She wanted to ask how he’d found out, but the moment his lips fully claimed hers, her train of thought evaporated like dew under the hot sun.

He slid his tongue into her mouth. He tasted rather spicy. She sighed as he deepened his kiss possessively—he kissed like he really meant it. Hot. Passionate. Demanding. Maddie unconsciously arched her back with every stroke of his tongue, grinding her pubis against his with the sheer desperation of wanting his heat in places other than her mouth. He made her ravenous, like no one had ever done before.

Jean-Luc showered her with more exploratory kisses and nips. Her heart pounded when he started kissing the side of her jaw and the hollow of her throat. He kissed so damn good, it made her want him to do much more. Her nipples ached for his touch. Her clit throbbed in antagonised pulses, wanting a little attention. But Jean-Luc did nothing other than caress her face. Maddie growled with impatience.

A triumphant smile blossomed on his face. “You like my kiss,” he remarked, stating the obvious.

Her face heated. “Well. What are you going to do about it?”

“I won’t do much more until you agree with the pact.” Jean-Luc nipped her lower lip. He paused. “Do you?”

“I…” Her internal alarm blasted the sermons Aunt Liv had ever so fondly drilled into her skull. Nothing good would come out of making a pact with the Unseen. “I…I can’t.”

He tsked disappointedly. “You’re a hard sell,
chérie.”

“I’m sorry.”

Jean-Luc studied her face. She noticed his inky black lashes that framed his hypnotic blue eyes. Men weren’t supposed to have lashes that gorgeous. She was jealous. Maddie wanted to touch them, but Jean-Luc caught her hand and brought it to his mouth. He sucked her finger. Maddie groaned. What he did brought a sinful sensation straight to her groin. She moistened instantaneously.

He let go of her finger. “I put a warding spell on you, after we left Maison Plaisir so nothing could harm you.”

“You did?” So that was why she hadn’t seen ghosts or spirits recently.

“Make a pact with me, Madeline, and I’ll protect you.”

“I can’t,” she blurted out regrettably.

“You can’t, or you won’t?”

Maddie cringed.
Can’t or won’t.
If she had to be honest with herself, she didn’t mind having Jean-Luc around. But she didn’t want to go through the hell Aunt Liv had been through. Djinn or Hellhound, they were all the same. They couldn’t be trusted. “I can’t.”

Jean-Luc narrowed his eyes. His expression slipped into an expressionless mask. She couldn’t read what was going on in his head.

“If I lift my protection, they’re going to hound you,” he noted slowly, as if he wanted the word to sink into her skull.

“What’s new?”

“Stubborn.” Jean-Luc rolled from her and climbed off the bed. “Are you afraid of me?”

“Kinda.” Maddie mourned her loss. She guessed he wasn’t in the mood for making out anymore.

“But you like my kiss,” he stated. Haughtiness dripped from his tone.

Her cheeks burned.
Duh. Who wouldn’t?

Jean-Luc threw her a sardonic smile. “You’ll come around. I’m certain of it.”

“You think?”

“Before this week’s end,
chérie
. You’ll be mine.” Jean-Luc tipped his head and turned around. He disappeared before her eyes.

Maddie scrambled up and ran her hands through her hair. What did that mean? Did he mean to lift his protection so she’d cave in to his demand? That wasn’t really fair.

She touched her lips. She could still taste his kiss.

Mind-numbing.

Damn Hellhounds.

* * * *

Jean-Luc strolled his way through the lunchtime commuters between Fifth and Sixteenth before he made a quick turn into Broadway Avenue. He hated walking among the living and preferred to avoid them if he could. Humans couldn’t see him. Rarely. Maddie was an exception. And on many occasions, they just walked through him. The process wasn’t painful or anything, but Jean-Luc found it quite annoying.

He paused before entering a small, shabby Vietnamese noodle restaurant on the corner of Broadway. The deserted and dimly lit room greeted him. As he stepped on the welcome mat, the faint bell announced his arrival, making the old man behind the counter jump. He was human and couldn’t see him, and Jean-Luc figured the bell ringing on its own accord must have unnerved him. The noodle shop was one of the few gateways into the spirit world. The human proprietor didn’t have a clue that his establishment was frequented by otherworldly beings. Jean-Luc had heard from others that the old man was suspicious, though. Judging from the yellowed parchments—protection seals—written in Asian characters and plastered in the entrance of the restaurant, and in some other strategic places, Jean-Luc assumed the proprietor had tried to ward the spirits from his shop. The seals might work on the
zacrachs
, but they were utterly useless on Hellhounds like him.

The old man behind the counter threw a puzzled look at his surroundings, then returned his attention to the newspaper he was reading. Jean-Luc strode past him and headed to the back of the shop. In the kitchen, he saw an old woman berating a young man while chopping a head of cabbage at an amazing speed. The youngster wasn’t really paying attention. He leaned by the refrigerator with eyes half-closed, listening to music from his earphones. Jean-Luc breezed between him and the wall and stopped in front of the storage room. He pressed his palms on the door and pushed, stepping into the spirit world.

The bustling sight of the central market in the First Realm welcomed him as usual. Vendors hawked their goods. People haggled. Crates of merchandise were being unloaded from huge wagons. The air was filled with the thick aroma of meat charred on hot coals and bread baked in the brick oven. Jean-Luc sniffed the delicious scent and walked to his favourite food stall. He hadn’t had his fill since he’d reported to the Pit last night. He didn’t know why, but each time he came back from the Pit, he was always in the mood for grilled meat. Strange.

Jean-Luc opened the tent flap and settled at the table near the grilling pit. Other customers avoided that particular table, but Jean-Luc liked the heat. The fiery embers peeking beneath the sizzling meats gave him strange comfort. It was just like the Pit. The servant nodded in his direction and scurried to his table, bringing him his favourite liquor. Jean-Luc placed his order and thanked him.

A hand slapped on his shoulder as he was about to pour his drink. “Fancy meeting you here,” a deep voice said.

Jean-Luc turned his head and saw his close friend Adrian Storke, a Reaper, joining his table. Adrian brought his plate of meat and started munching on his food.

“Where’ve you been?” Jean-Luc asked.

“Should ask you the same thing. Haven’t seen you around.”

“Been busy.” Jean-Luc filled his cup with the amber liquid and took a long gulp. He winced as the burning liquor slithered past his throat.

“The gigolo job?” Adrian guessed.

Jean-Luc snorted. “You knew?”

“It’s the talk of the town. Heard Basso put you on suspension until Lucifer returns.”

“A vacation. And the damned one I really need.”

Adrian turned to snort. “You? Vacation? You’re shitting me.”

“Do I look like I’m shitting you?”

The Reaper gave him a curious look. “Sure. Vacation. Did Basso tell you to lie low?”

“No. Why?”

Adrian swiped Jean-Luc’s drink and gulped it down. “Heard me some rumours, too.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“About?”

“Lilith wasn’t happy with the way things were being handled. She wants her gigolo back.”

“Why, of course.”

“The Duke wants the gigolo to do the time, while Lucifer is rumoured to want no part of the quarrel.”

“I thought Lucifer was on vacation.”

“To wash his hands of this clusterfuck. Seems you’re one ungodly lucky son of a bitch, stuck between a rock and hard place.”

“Think Lilith wants to use me to get her boytoy back?”

“That’s what I’ve heard. Just want to give you a heads up. What are you up to these days?”

“Doing nothing.”

“Good. Keep doing nothing. Go under the floorboards where nobody can find you. I heard Lilith has sent Jezebel to smooth things out.”

Jean-Luc gave a strained groan. He’d crossed paths once or twice in the past with the infamous succubus. Jezebel was twice the royal pain in the ass as her mistress. The bitch never took no for an answer. “Great. Just great.”

The waiter came with his order. A plate of scrumptious grilled meat was placed before him. His appetite had already vanished, however. Jean-Luc stabbed a fork into the pile of sliced beef and shovelled into his mouth. He chewed it without tasting.

Adrian noticed his change of mood. “Something on your mind?”

“Nah. Just remembered something I’ve got to do.” Jean-Luc didn’t feel like sharing what was on his mind. Even though they were quite close, as two agents of the Pit could be, there were certain things he liked to keep to himself. Like how he was hot for a human girl.

He started pondering if it was a good idea chasing Maddie in a time like this. Maybe he should wait until this matter was resolved, when he could relinquish his responsibility on Sieg’s case. Being a Hellhound wasn’t a glamorous job. Over the years, he’d managed to piss people off and they hadn’t been able to get even because no one could find some sort of leverage to use against him. But if they knew he was taken with Maddie…

Jean-Luc swallowed his food and washed it down with his drink. He shuddered from the combination of the taste. Usually, he loved the mingling flavour of perfectly charred meat and the hard liquor. Now, it almost made him gag. Jean-Luc cringed and pushed his plate away. He schooled his face to a blank under Adrian’s curious stare. The Reaper had a knack of guessing people’s thoughts.

“So.” Jean-Luc cleared his throat. “You busy lately?”

Adrian shrugged. “Usual gig. Same shit different day. I’ll have a big reap this afternoon. Twenty-car pileup on I-90. Seventeen souls. Want to tag along?”

“Your job’s depressing.”