felt tentative for but a moment. Savin’s hand slipped along her neck, gentle but guiding, as he tilted her head to better receive the taste of his desire. He invaded her with his presence in a way she had never known. And she wanted to keep it. To know him as only adults could know each other.
His mustache brushed her upper lip, and their noses nudged. Eyes closed, she gripped at his wavy hair. Their intense connection rocketed up the delicious tingle that began at her mouth and coiled rapidly throughout her body. Jett slid a leg over his lap, her knee hitting the whiskey bottle, and straddled him. He slipped a hand along her back, not breaking the kiss, instead keeping her firmly in place upon him.
She wanted to taste him, to drink the whiskey from his tongue. That wish was granted as he dashed his tongue along the seam of her mouth. Such a spectacular sensation giddied up her spine. The man’s throaty groan clued her he enjoyed kissing her as much as she did him.
His tongue was hot and slick as he tasted her teeth, tongue and her lips. She copied his movements, daring him into a deep dance that ignited the coil of want in her belly, and lower. It was not a sensation she had known—too easy, too comfortable—and it alerted her for a few moments, but she would not let him know her caution rose. The width of his hand spanned her back as he gentled that sudden anxiety with the realization that he might only protect her and—if she was lucky—give her pleasure.
He must. She deserved it.
Bracketing his face with both palms, Jett tilted her head, seeking to devour his whiskey sweetness. When she brushed her hard nipples against his chest, again the man moaned. Yes, she liked his reaction. He was under her command now. And that empowered her.
Yet when he slipped out his tongue and kissed her mouth, then bowed his forehead to hers to end the kiss, she wanted to greedily pull him back for another. So she did. This time the clutch of his hand against her hip was more urgent. And his other hand slid over her derriere and squeezed.
She wanted to feel his body against hers, skin to skin, to know what his muscles felt like flexing with movement, melding against her body, and to own him.
But she was getting carried away.
Jett lashed her tongue along Savin’s lower lip, then met his gaze.
“Whew!” he said.
Exactly. And kneeling over him, firmly in his embrace, she could sense...something similar within him. The demoness he claimed had hitched a ride to this realm with his escape? The Other. Her presence was faint, barely a shimmer that traced the man’s veins. And yet she wanted Jett to know of her presence.
Oh, she was aware.
Jett thumbed Savin’s mouth. “I’ve never been kissed like that.”
His eyebrow quirked.
“Actually, I’ve never been kissed until now.”
“You’re—Really?”
She nodded. “Finally, that kiss you promised me when we were kids has been granted. And don’t think you have to stop giving them to me.”
“That was an intense kiss. A guy would never know you’d not done such before.” He looked aside. Were his thoughts going to places she didn’t want them to go?
Jett kissed him again. She would claim this man, body and soul. Because that was what she did to survive.
There was only one way to be safe, and that would mean relinquishing the power Jett had gained since living in Daemonia. She felt sure she could accomplish the task. She would never return there. Not even if a sexy reckoner decided her time was up.
However, to let go of what she had gained would be a supreme sacrifice. She’d not yet dared to test those powers here in the mortal realm. Perhaps they were already diminished?
But first, she needed an answer to a question that had haunted her all through her absence. And the only way to do that was to locate her parents; one or both. Though she suspected her mother might be the best bet, according to what Savin had told her about her father moving on after her disappearance.
Her father. He could be the missing key. What did she really know about her father?
She’d asked Savin if he could ask his mother about her parents. Since they’d lived so close when they were children, and she remembered their mothers being friends, perhaps Madame Thorne could aid in her search. With luck, she would have an answer to her oft-wondered-about question soon.
Teasing her finger along the granite countertop in Savin’s kitchen, Jett marveled over the simple stone. Nothing like this in Daemonia. There the minerals and earth had been volatile and ever changing. One could never take a step without being certain one’s foot would land on a solid or moving surface. It was good to be home. Almost home. Would she ever call a place home again?
Savin wandered in from the bedroom. The man wore loose-fitted jeans and a long-sleeved shirt that struggled to contain his biceps. “I’m heading out for some groceries, and I just got a text from Ed, the corax demon I reckoned for yesterday. He was the one who sensed the gates to Daemonia were opening, and was there the night you came through. He isn’t sure Certainly’s spell to close the rift is holding.”
“And who or what is Certainly?”
“Certainly Jones is a man. A dark witch.”
Yet another person of whom she should remain wary. Witches never survived Daemonia. The dark ones did like to conjure from that source, and such invocations never seemed to go well. At least, not for the demon.
“I thought you were the reckoner,” Jett said. “How are you involved with wrangling demons? Do you hunt, as well?”
“Nope. Don’t like to hunt. Dead giveaway, too, because demons sense me as easily as I sense them. But I’m in on this whole keeping-the-rift-closed adventure, so I’ll help Ed and CJ any way I can. You going to be okay here by yourself for a while?”
“Of course. I’m a big girl.”
“That you are.” His eyes twinkled, and Jett remembered their kiss last night. She would take another from him soon, if she had her way. And she generally did. “Any requests for food?”
“No, but if you could call your mother, I’d be appreciative.”
“Right. I haven’t forgotten. I might stop by her place today. She lives in the sixteenth near the park now. Has a nice little apartment. She’s going to flip to hear you’re back.”
“Is that a good flip or a bad flip?”
“My mother knows about me and the demon stuff. She says she believes me, but I also know she can’t bring herself to label her son crazy, even though she suspects that could be a possibility.” He shrugged. “Such is life. I’m going to pick you up a phone while I’m out, too. Not that you need to start texting and taking selfies, but it’ll be a good way for us to keep in touch when I’m gone.”
“You are too generous, Savin. I feel as if I owe you so much already.”
“Don’t
