All of me wanted both of them at once.
My pulse turned urgent at the thought, heat unfurling through my chest and lower still, my body responding with a certainty I couldn’t deny.
“There it is,” the demon crooned beside me. “The naïve little summoner wants to play.”
My tongue felt thick. I couldn’t make my mouth form an answer. My head was a tangle of shame and hunger and the stubborn, defiant spark that whispered I was allowed to want something that was only for me.
“Give me those filthy words from those delicious lips of yours, lass,” Lugh said, his mouth tipping at the corner as if he could see every frantic thought racing through my head. “I want to give you everything you crave… even if it means you choose meandthis soulless nyaff.”
“Says the feckin’ wet wipe,” the demon said cheerfully. I felt him circle behind me, a dark presence dragging fingers along the edge of my awareness. He paced a loose half-circle behind myshoulders, staying just out of Lugh’s reach, close enough that I felt him without turning.
“Look at her. So perfect. So pretty and innocent. But she’s aching to know what it feels like when I fill her. When Iuseher. You want that, don’t you baby?”
“Demons ask for consent now?” Lugh shot back, but there was a dangerous note under the dry bite. The demon stayed behind my shoulder line, standing over us like an audience member who couldn’t resist heckling.
The demon huffed. “What makes you think I ever need to force anyone?” He paced to my side as he spoke, words gaining speed, bright with unholy glee. “Have you seen what mortal women are reading these days? What things these authors are writin’ about us?”
He spread his hands, including me in the gesture. “You devour stories about monsters and men who should terrify you. Shifters, vampires, hot priests with fangs, assassin fae, demons with vibrating cocks?—
Lugh cut in, dry as hell. “ —And demigods, aye. Believe me, I’m well aware.”
“Oh, but it’s more than creatures of fantasy, isn’t it?” he went on, voice thick with satisfaction. “They fantasize about bein’ taken apart.”
He moved as he spoke, closing the distance between us in a slow prowl before bending, bringing himself down until we were almost nose to nose. He slid to my left side and crouched, so I had to turn my head toward him—while Lugh stayed kneeling directly in front of me. Candlelight caught in his eyes, turning them molten.
“They want men who could destroy them,” he murmured, “but choose to ruin them in much more pleasurable ways instead.”
His hand came up, fingers sliding from my jaw to wrap around the front of my throat—not cutting off air, just a firm, deliberate band of heat that tipped my head back and held me exactly where he wanted me. My breath stuttered. Every part of me went tight and aware.
“You call the dark because you’re tired of thinkin’,” the demon said, his grip flexing just enough to remind me it was there. “You want to feel. You don’t want gentle. You want obsession. Possession. You want the edges of your agency to blur until all that’s left is sensation and surrender.”
Every sentence landed with humiliating, perfect accuracy.
His thumb stroked once along the hollow of my throat, a mockery of comfort. “And that’s exactly why you summoned me, isn’t it,” he purred, “my little cock-craving slut?”
Beside me, Lugh made a low sound—half warning, half the growl of a man fighting the urge to intervene. He didn’t move, though. I felt the restraint in him, the way he was watching to see if I’d pull away. I didn’t.
A dark, amused chuckle rumbled out of the demon. “Look at the way your precious demigod’s jaw ticks when I call you names.”
Lugh’s answer came out as a low scrape of sound, rough with something he wasn’t bothering to hide anymore.
“I’m not here to like it, am I?” he said, gaze fixed on the demon but weight angled toward me. Then his eyes slid back to my face, softer, darker. “I’m here to give her exactly what she wants.”
“I think there’s far moretemptation,” Lugh went on, voice dropping, “in findin’ a man with steadfast devotion to bringin’ you pleasure. Ye’re forgettin’ things from my side of the market.”
As he spoke, he unfolded to his full height in one smooth motion, never breaking eye contact. With a gentle, unmistakable pull, he drew me up off my knees. He brought me to my feet rightin front of him, keeping one hand at my waist. My legs wobbled, muscles protesting, and I swayed instinctively toward him.
The demon’s low growl rumbled through the air the moment my body left the level of his reach, a dark, possessive sound at my side—as if the loss of my nearness to his touch offended him on principle.
Lugh’s hands brushed up my arms, barely there, but it lit up my nerves like kindling. He moved slowly, deliberately, as if memorizing every part of me.
“The fierce protector,” he murmured, voice dark silk, “her shield against the world.” He caught my wrist, lifted it, and mouthed the pulse there—unhurried yet somehow possessive. The simple intimacy of it stole my composure, a small, unguarded sound escaping before I could stop it.
“The bookish scholar,” he went on, mouth curving as his breath grazed my skin, “hands shakin’ as he worships the girl he never thought he’d get.”
His other hand settled at my waist, broad and sure, drawing me in until I was flush against the solid line of his body. I could feel the restrained strength held leashed behind that touch, every muscle drawn tight with control.
“The trickster,” he breathed along my neck, amusement threading through the heat, “always teasin’. Always watchin’.” His lips brushed the shell of my ear, a teasing almost-kiss that made my knees threaten to buckle. I felt his quiet inhale, as if he was memorising the way I shivered for him.