Ciaran couldn't believe Allanah, beautiful beyond reason or explanation in his eyes, sat across from him, in his private living room on the second floor. He'd spent the last few days leaving her messages, apologizing for the other night, for whatever made her run from him. He didn't care if it was his fault or hers, he planned to apologize, beg and plead, if necessary, to get to see her again. One good thing about having an inner beast, being wealthy, and so on, he had all the accolades he needed to feel a man. So, when it came to her, and only her, he had no problem groveling. Not this time. His life might not be perfect, or even good yet, but now that he'd seen her, tasted her again, he would never let her go again.

Fuck you, dad, he hissed at the air above him until a heinous thought about his father's true possible eternal resting place pasted an evil smile on his face, a hateful and convoluted upturn to his lips. Fuck you, dad, he hissed it again, louder this time, only at the floor, an image of the fires of hell prevalent in his mind.

On top of his apology calls, he'd sent her flowers and wine and anything else deliverable daily, until she'd finally called him to demand he stop the overdone apology gifting. He'd gotten her talking then, first about the weather, stupid, but it bought him time to hear her voice. He'd changed the conversation, then, over to her work, something he'd chastised himself for not bringing up at his party to spend more time with her. Eventually, when he'd loosened her up enough, made her relax, he'd carefully requested seeing her again. He made it a dare, challenging her to spend a little longer with him. And, when the time felt right in the conversation, he even risked teasing her that she wouldn't be able to keep her hands off him. She finally stood up for herself, took his dare, and in the process had agreed to come visit him again when it would only be the two of them.

Worked every time, he thought, tapping a loose fist against the heart bumping around in his chest.

She'd never brought up his red eyes, or the crushed mantle, or anything else from the other night, but maybe she had found rational explanations for it all. Most people did, because what other explanation could they imagine. They'd blame the lighting, or a storm, for a trick played on their eyes. They'd blame faulty construction when his strength went beyond human. Always an explanation that had nothing to do with a legacy of evil, of magick, which led to all sorts of nefarious feats courtesy of a demon lurking within.

He'd had the same excuses ready. For his red eyes, the color of the flames of hell, he'd claim it had to be the lightning reflecting in his eyes, or maybe the fire. For being able to crumble large stones to gravel with his bare hands, he'd claim the mantle had been unstable from the weather and in need of repair. Since the demon his father had summoned into him to maintain his son's magick, to ensure his loyalty to the coven, had appeared once Allanah had gone from his life—as in, days after—he'd made up excuses for his strength, his eyes, even his anger when out of control. Though few had seen him as the creature the demon turned him into. Sadly, those few had not lived to tell of it. Regret fluttered through briefly, until the beast within wouldn't allow it, fed off the guilt, slurping it up like coffee, re-energizing with it.

Despite the fact he knew she couldn't read his mind, his brows drew closer together as he looked away, avoided eye contact. Thumbing his ear, then tugging on his shirt, he sighed, stopping such inexcusable signs of weakness, while out of the corner of his eye he watched her inspect her surroundings. Turning to the window to witness the magnificent view he knew all too well, along with her, he ran his hands through his hair. Moments later, he tugged at his waistband. His jeans grew uncomfortable as he beheld the sight of her: the slight arch of her back, the curve of her hips and ass, all tiny but generous enough. Perfect for his large hands to consume. The darkness inside lurched in a lustful glee, forcing him to grab the cushions of the chair he sat on to remain seated. He sucked in a slow, long breath lest he shred the cushions with his bare hands.

Usually he had control over the damnable beast, giving it just enough leeway to satisfy it with women, while reigning it in enough not to appear too much of a dick in the bedroom. With Allanah, though, he didn't want it anywhere near her, but what choice did he have here today? He felt the demon ooze through his veins like slime on a daily basis. So, he'd kept his distance from her all of these years.

He'd yet to find a way to get rid of the blasted curse, especially given his family's need to keep him in the coven. The demons were insurance. Each man in the coven had one. They were each controlled by the head of the coven, his father before, and now him. If a man dared betray them, his demon had the ability to trigger any other man's demon in the coven in order to destroy that man.

Even now that his demon controlled them all, the failsafe being if he could somehow manage to exorcise his, the coven would join together to go after him the same way. He'd find himself the unnatural beast the demon turned him into permanently. Even if he could find the power to destroy it, send the serpent back to hell, another coven to help him maybe, his family would never hear of it. He couldn't imagine the fallout after. They'd put the little devil back in, through ritual, through sacrifice, the same way his father, being the kind and generous parental figure he was, had put the hellion inside his son to begin with.

Ciaran had often feared, since his father's death, that one of his brothers may even let the demon destroy him, take him over permanently, in order to take over the coven, the business, for their own. Then he'd have never seen her again. He shook off the horrible thought, a chill snaking down his spine, tingling through his heart. If any of it had been his choice, he'd have laid it all at their feet long ago; the money, the business, the coven, the damnable beast, if only he could walk away a free man. His only choice was to find a way to destroy all the demons at once, but so far nothing in all his father's crap had led him to think it possible. He'd searched, too. Not through it all yet. His father had amassed more crap concerning the cult than any man he knew of.

First, he needed a solid plan to not only rid himself of the fiend, but to ensure his getaway permanently from them all. So far, even an idea of where to start a plan had eluded him. He'd spent the time since his father's death working on just that, figuring out the best scenario to get out of it all, the business, the coven, the family even, and just disappear with enough money to hide out long enough for things to die down and then go and find Allanah. He'd searched for a blocking spell, one to hide his demon from the others, to no avail. The goblin served as a satanic tracking device to the demons in his brothers and the other men in the coven.

In the meantime, he'd been funneling money into secret accounts, looking into locations, even buying a few, unseen since he couldn't risk being followed. Then, pictures in hand of remote islands, cottages, and such, he'd daydream about being there with Allanah. Admittedly, the latter had taken up the biggest chunk of his free time. He had two places so far. One he already had a small staff of two, a husband and wife without family, living on and tending to. Next step, he'd buy a false identification and a private plane. Once he learned to fly the damn thing, he'd take it there and stay forever so he couldn't be followed. Of course, it all came down to silencing or abolishing the monster within first. But, he took care of what he could until then.

Seeing Allanah unexpectedly, out of his time line anyway, last night, had set him off, made everything about him off kilter. And, he couldn't deal with that. It just didn't work for him. Not for a man with a demon ever present, always lurking in wait for an excuse to force the transformation, to beast out, and possibly to destroy or kill. The blood lust alone could drive a man insane, make the beast the permanent controller of a man's being, his very nature, if not careful. And, long ago, his wonderful father had even threatened to force his beast to kill Allanah if he disobeyed the family, didn't take on his proper roll. His brothers, now, could easily do the same.

He shook his head as he adjusted in his chair, secretly studying her as she took in the view from the window. How could he tell her such a thing? Ever? As the prickling of his scalp echoed the quiver in his stomach, self-hatred escalated to self-loathing. The ludicrousness of the whole thing, the unbelievable reality factor alone, put him over the edge even imagining her finding out. Those facts kept the men in the family, in the coven, in check. Tell and be locked up in a straight jacket for life, medicated, or who knows what. Not like anyone would believe him, and if he turned as proof, they'd probably not live to tell about it. Or, if even possible, humans could trap one of them, and then what, side show attraction? Medical study? None of the options were a life, so allegiance it was. For them all.

He became overheated for more reasons than the one obvious in front of him, and the one not so obvious hidden inside of him. He needed a plan, needed to be in control of it to banish it, without his brothers and coven knowing. Or, he needed a reliable protection spell to make his whereabouts unknown to them. His and Allanah's. It had been his dream his whole life since meeting her, since acquiring, by force, his demon.

Ariazurel, it whispered its name. A current of electricity skated under his skin, begging to be let out, to devour the girl.

Never, he hissed back in his head. I will banish you one day. I promise you that.

The demon only laughed, causing his blood to rush like a current of flames through his veins until he heard the thunder of his own internal tempest in his head. If he didn't get control of it, it would soon storm outside again. The power within could become strong enough to affect the weather. He had to channel the demon somehow. If she stayed any longer, and he couldn't have her, the man in him have her, the demon would happily feed off of his sexual frustration. He would have no choice but to channel that energy into the atmosphere until he feared someone may have to build an ark.

"Did this room look like this when your father lived in the house? This is the main suite, right? Was it once his domain? You took it for yourself?" She asked, silencing his frantic, wayward reverie as she turned from the window to look him in the eye.

Even though he suddenly felt exposed, as if she could read his errant thoughts, he kept her gaze, challenged it, in fact. Turning toward her, he squared his shoulders, letting his spine straighten him up to his full height seated still. Never one to back down, she pushed back her own shoulders, showing off her two perfectly formed breasts. Her hands found her hips, making his fingers itch with jealousy. 

"No, not at all. I mean, yes, it was his, but I reclaimed it by gutting it and starting over like I did downstairs. I had to do away with every last trace of him. Again, reclaim the space in order to make it mine. Too much here, too?"

"You did go crazy here. Well, you went all out, but not like you did downstairs. This is beautiful. I can't imagine having a room like this of my own to lounge in. I'd never even have thought to do such a thing. I have a flat."

"In New York. Yes, I know. Sorry. Go on."

"That's right," she laughed, giving him a teasing lift of one eyebrow, but the genuine light that twinkled in her eyes nearly shook him to his core. "I simply added furniture, a few paintings and knickknacks I've gathered along the way in my travels. My decorating style is eclectic, at best, yet more an album of memories; a travel diary, if you will."

"I'd love to see it sometime. I can't, however, take the credit for this. My designer came up with several ideas, and I merely said yes or no until this happened."

"I love it. So pure. So cozy. Yet, so...wow."

He looked around the room, as if he could see it again for the first time, as a neutral observer through her eyes. It was simple, especially color wise, if that was what she meant by pure. Whites and woods with clean cut lines pervaded the space. Still, if the hues made it look simple, it was so in a truly extravagant way. An infinity edge hot tub sat up against another wall of windows, overlooking the ocean. When in it, it appeared the water flowed to the ocean, and he liked the connection to nature. With the tub being huge, big enough for at least eight people, it served as the focus of the room, surrounded by deep cream, leather couches and recliners. A few tables of dark wood left quite the contrast to the water and leather.

"Do you mind dinner in here?" he asked. "We can lounge in the water, actually. I have tables that hook on the edges of the tub, or we can eat on the couches. I didn't want to be as formal as eating in the dining room. Hope that is okay?"

"No, I prefer it actually. And I would take you up on the hot tub dining if I didn't have to do it in my birthday suit. You didn't mention bringing a bathing suit."

"Ah, while the birthday suit gets my vote," he said with a smile and wink to let her know, hopefully, that he was joking, even though that would be a lie in all honesty. "But, seriously, just through those doors is my bathroom. The hallway in to it is lined with closets that are like going to the store to shop for a bathing suit. Should have every style, size, shape and color you could image."

"Of course you do. Why wouldn't you? I mean it would be crazy to not think you had something so insane in there as to have a store in your closet," she said, attempting to tease him, he could tell, even though the banter covered her truth of maybe mild distaste or disbelief.

He couldn't know. He just wished he could.

"It was my decorator's idea, too, actually. That way, she said, a dip in the hot tub need never be planned no matter who was visiting. She even bought all the suits, men's and women's. I just supplied the credit card."

"I kind of figured that."

"You know, all of this extreme decorating, all of this stuff, it's just therapy, really. I hope you don't take the extravagances for arrogance or to show off my wealth. I hope you know me better than that. When my father died, I had such a hard time. You can't mourn one you hated, outside of finally mourning the loss, the possibility of ever having a real father, one to love, who loved you. I hated so much about him that I felt the need, right or wrong, to destroy all he had done to the house. Maybe tearing it down would have made more sense, but I needed to reclaim. Plus, I needed to waste some of his money on myself, on things that were just me. Not that he didn't invest money in me, but it was all for his gain, and I can't explain it, but doing this was like a fuck you, I can be my own man sort of thing. Childish. Sure. Therapeutic, more importantly. I had the money. So, I did it up right. Sorry, I hope that doesn't lessen me in your eyes."

"Not at all. I met the man, remember. I don't think anything you could do for revenge, no, that's too strong a word maybe, for healing, for whatever, could be misunderstood, or held against you. He made your life hell in so many ways. I know that."

"Hell. Yes. Good choice of words. Thank you for understanding. It means so much to me."

"No problem. But, suits. I want to go shopping and then heat, so, lead the way," she stated, enthusiasm in her voice that proved so easily contagious.

While she shopped for a suit, and then toured his bathroom and bedroom, he took her comments as teasing rather than criticisms. Her demeanor had changed, in a good way, from the party. He'd given apologizing to her everything he had, going for honest. Well, as honest as he could be. No matter what it took, he'd no intention of letting her get away from him again. The time may not be ideal, but maybe love, something he could only experience with her, had given him hope.

He'd not experienced such emotions in over a decade: hope, happiness, love. Just like a man yearning and devoted to a woman, she made him better, completed him. Of course, back then, during the short time he'd been blessed to call her his, he hadn't had a slithering servant of hell moving around inside of him, always fighting for control.

But, everyone had their problems, right?

He knew without a shadow of a doubt, no danger would come to her by his hands, his monster. He had to hope, against all hope, that being with him would not put her in danger of anyone else, though. His father was dead. He ran his own life now. Well, to a greater degree than he had at any other time in his life. What would his brothers care who he dated? They never had before. Unless his father had left some sort of instructions where she was concerned, but that had to be mere paranoia sneaking in. He hadn't seen her or spoken of her in over thirteen years.

As they slid into the tub, he feigned normal. He let himself be just a man who ached all over to be against this angelic creature in a small, yet, of course, not skimpy enough, bathing suit. Too close for any sort of comfort, he watched as the warm water covered her. A smile grew on her face with each inch, as his faded in conjunction with the loss of her body to view.

"What luxury," she exclaimed. "I have a big whirlpool bathtub in my place. I like to make the bathroom all spa like and soak. But this! It's something else. The sound of the falling water. The sights of the room and outside. I'm in heaven."

"Me, too, but only because you are here."

"Oh, man, you never were smooth with the lines were you, lady killer?" She giggled, granting him a brief glimpse at the young girl she used to be when he'd first met her: carefree, hopeful, and determined. "Of course, with your looks, you wouldn't have to be."

"I'm just trying to be honest here. Not a line if you mean it. And, I do. To be with you again, there are no words, no lines, to explain it. I wouldn't even bother to try."

"I'll admit, it is nice, to let oneself be carried away by the memories; well, the good ones. Reminiscing, catching up, is all well and good. But, us, I'm not sure if it is... I have to go back to New York... I..."

"Stop. I know you have to go back soon. I just need to live here in the moment with you, if that is okay. The future, I'll worry about that later. Deal?"

"Sure. Deal. Just, we need to watch, the interaction that is."

"What do you think I have in mind?"

"I don't know, or don't want to, I guess. I just know it's more than we should engage in."

"You're not thinking of it? How it used to be between us?"

"Of course I am. But, we can't. I can't. Not again, and then leave. It's already going to be hard enough. Old feelings, not letting them surface to much, it's proving an impossible challenge already. I'm trying to live in the moment here without making future ones in New York miserable. Do you know what I mean?"

"More than you know. I will follow your lead," he promised, telling her as much truth as he could.

He meant it. The demon voted only for devouring her now, encouraged by his desire for her, but following her lead, that had been a warning to the thing to behave. He needed to say out loud that he was in control, if only to encourage himself as well.

"Oh, don't do that. One of us has to be sane. Please tell me it will be you. I'm not sure I have it in me at the moment."

As she looked him up and down with obvious admiration, a hint of that heated girlish twinkle in her eye he remembered all too well with every cell of his body. The demon, never to be ignored, surged through him with each shot of lust. At the same time, the thing from hell battled every flash of what he knew love to be, forcing him to refocus his concentration moment to moment. He sat up straight, pushed his back against the wall of the hot tub, forcing water to slosh over the edge behind him.

"Did I say something wrong? I can't tell. I mean, your body language is stay away, but you have something like fear etching your face, and I don't believe a man like you even knows that emotion. You didn't before, so why would you now?" She asked, her concern genuine.

"I know fear," Ciaran said, holding onto the scream of frustration he wanted to let out. "Fear is why I let you go. Fear for you. For your safety. What I fear now, though, is holding back. Keeping my distance enough that you will stay longer. Come back again. Maybe even let me visit you in New York, and see you there. I'm probably pushing too hard, too fast, already right there. I want to be honest with you. I really do, but there is so much about me, so many things I've done, have been. Those around me..."

"Those around you? You mean your brothers? Do I have something to fear from them? Will they take up where your father left off? I mean, I have money now. Surely I am no longer a poor girl unworthy of you. Wait, are you afraid for me now, in this moment?"

He watched her back up, take a quick look around her. It cut him right to his core. The pain, a stab in the gut, quickened his breathing. He'd frightened her.

The demon surged again to the surface, threatening a shift. Jaw tight, every muscle tighter, he held it in with everything in him even though the electricity of the change threatened, churning in his veins, chilling his heated skin. The urge grew so strong, the threat of the agony of it grew almost palatable. This had never happened before with a woman, but, then again, he'd never had feelings for another. He'd never thought he'd have to protect Allanah from his own evil. Had the damn thing been programmed by his father, or was this just the demon thing to do, cursing the man it lived within from ever having anything true, anyone or anything pure and good in his life? The malignant imp hated love.

"No. Yes! Maybe. I just need a minute. Know, I will always do everything in my power to protect you. I love you." He'd let the words foremost in his turbulent thoughts rush out, as if he'd never see her again, never again get the chance to say so.

His eyes flashed red, and she gasped. He couldn't stick around to comfort her. Moving as quickly as he could out of the water, he half ran, half slid to his bedroom, grasping the walls, doorknobs, anything he could to keep moving forward. When his feet, luckily still human, hit the plush carpet of his bedroom, he slammed the door and locked it.

Catching his breath, away from her smell, he closed his eyes. Even though he couldn't see her anymore, he focused on the calm, the water, the ocean. Oddly, the demon had its own rage that crashed like his own, which called to the damn thing. The irony or paradox, whatever the roundabout of the twisted situation was, clawed at him, like the demon did inside him, making him double over, clutch his stomach, hold his breath. Holding back the demon, the shift into his horrible beast, by the skin of his teeth, he ground them together. The thunder came, then, as he knew it would. Lightning ripped through the sky, illuminating his reflection in the full length mirror on one wall. In his mind, though, he didn't see the man he still remained; he saw only the beast.

From the red, glowing eyes centered in a misshapen head, to a pointed jaw covered in fur, the mouth within it riddled with sharp, hideously decaying teeth of uneven lengths. While bits of him in beast form remained humanesque, from his hands and feet, though larger, more bony, covered with thin brownish-black skin. Still, his monster form reeked of hell and towered to the point it needed to hunch over even with his high ceilings. Manly abs shown a better cut six pack than he had, though again, he worked his body hard, so this version was grotesquely cut within the dark skin. As for the rest of its body, all he could see was the hair. The fur, if one could call it that, as he'd no idea if his beast was truly animal, grew short only on the face. However, the fur slash hair stood, rather than hung, at least a good foot long all over his back, arms and legs, ratted into waves that stuck up straight. Something like static electricity sizzled through it, keeping it out as far as it could be.

She could never see this. Never!

Just as a semblance of control flirted within his reach, he heard her scream. The beast within him leapt up as if for joy at the shrill vibration of terror. Its idea of pleasure followed sick and twisted lines. His head threatened a possible aneurysm as he trapped the evil inside and ran to her aid, hoping, doing something akin to praying, it was only the storm that frightened her. Though the sickness coursing through him knew otherwise, as his demon practically rejoiced. He felt their magick, his magick, before he even got the door open.

While the coven remained outside, unseen, chaos ensued in the room by the time he got there. The demon granted some dark magick to each man, but when joined together they could control elements to their advantage. Right now, they were playing with them all to scare her. Air currents, rushing at dangerous speeds, lifted her up. The water from the hot tub went from slow flow to furious waves beneath her. Candles burned beyond what was possible, flames several feet tall, hissing with their struggle to stay lit despite the wind and water. Furniture blew to pieces, crumbling to bits around her as they swirled into the wind and water tornado forming with her safe, for the moment, suspended in the middle, in the eye, essentially trapping her within a storm. You could see sparks, hear a thunderous roar, but above it all, he heard her angry scream for them to knock it off.

He stood there shocked, to say the least, his mouth open. His own demon somehow suddenly satisfied by the mischief, maybe his anger, maybe hers, the place calmed to a pile of rubble. She fell onto the mass with a thump.

Before he could rush to her aid, in his head he heard all of their voices, their demons speaking to his. Your demon warned us of her. She is a threat. Love is a threat. To you. To the coven. Destroy her or we will.

"No," he roared, his demon behind his anger as he went to her, scooped her up in his arms, only to find her fighting him, clawing, kicking to get away until he couldn't hold onto her cute, little squirming body.

"Don't fucking touch me," she said, her tone nothing but a hiss as she stood up, and brushed herself off, to no avail. "I knew this was a bad idea. Why did I lie to myself that it wasn't? Just to touch you again? To fuck you one more time?"

His own building anger shook his confusion over her reaction off. He stood tense, yet immobile, searching for words safe to say, despite the fact she didn't seem at all surprised by the magickal doings.

"You're not at all scared. You're pissed. Why?" he bellowed, accusing her of something he couldn't define until she did for him, and therefore demanding those answers.

His fingers clenched. His demon danced.

"Why do you think? Your asshole brothers, I assume, are to thank for all of this destruction. Or, maybe your whole coven thought they could scare me with such childish antics? Why would I think that only your father would be threatened by my presence? No one around you wants you with me. Wants you happy, I guess, since you claim to love me. Is that what this is about? You can't have any true feelings for a woman, or what, you might do something she wants instead of what they want? What the fucking hell is that about? Testosterone? Control? Small dick? They just want you obedient to the cause, whatever the hell that cause may be. Money? Status? And who the hell knows what else your kind wants. How am I such a fucking danger to it anyway? I ask nothing of you!"

"You know?" At that point she could have breathed and knocked him down, but only for a second before the realization turned to a full blown flood of anger. "You know!"

"Yes, I know about your magick. Your coven."

She hadn't said demon or beast, but how much she knew took a back seat to finding out how and when she'd found out.

"Who? How? When?" He grunted out the monosyllables like a caveman.

"Seriously?"

"Yes. Fucking seriously. Answer the damn questions!" He raged. His eyes flashed red but he didn't conceal them. With his demon frolicking, he found it easier to control, to remain a man somehow, or at least for the moment. Maybe his desire to know trumped all. Who knew? Who cared? When the demon was happy, he could contain it, apparently. Threaten it, and his control grew iffy at best. Threaten his brothers investment into him, having him under their control, well, apparently, then one got a whole magickal shit show.

"My mother told me, as for the who. You seriously think that with all she did for your father she didn't know his legacy? Didn't know about the coven he ran, planned to turn over to you? She was as scared as she was loyal to the fuckin' bastard. Not sure what you mean by how, but I can tell you when. Not that you deserve the answers for putting me through this, but I feel the need to keep yelling at you, so I will answer. Right after they broke us up. That's when. My mother hoped the truth would send me packing for sure. For good. Maybe ease my pain, too."

"And it did."

"No. It didn't ease any pain, make it any easier. But, I didn't leave for them. I'm stronger than that. I left for you. I left because I knew... I knew what they would do to you if you tried to stay with me. They would kill me to destroy you. And I couldn't hurt you, so I let them hurt us both in another way. Am I wrong? I better not be wrong or I will hate you forever. There would be no other excuse for you not coming after me than if they threatened to kill me. You hinted at it the other night at the party. I think that was what I came for, to know that only for me, for my safety, would you not come after me."

"I can't believe this. And you kept my secret, all this time?"

"Only a fool with a death wish would tell. But, regardless of that terrifying fact, I wouldn't hurt you or my mother. But, your family will still hurt me. Obviously," she said gesturing to the rubble that had once been an amazing room. "Guess you have the funds to rebuild. Just an inconvenience to have to. I should be going."

"No. You won't. I'm not done with you."

"Oh, sweetheart, I don't think you have a choice. Still!"

"Sweetheart. Really? That's what I called you when I was pissed."

"Yes, obviously I remember. Come on. Snap out of it. I know your secret, and this date, if it could ever be called that, is over."

"My magick. The coven. That is all you know?"

"All? That isn't enough? If it isn't don't tell me. I would rather not know. I have to go, Ciaran. I'd love to say it's been fun, but you know, being tossed around by a magick storm isn't really my idea of a good time. Before that, though... That brief moment in time was good." She spat out each word, the anger dripping from each one.

He could see her hands shaking with her rage. He stiffened more, if that was even possible, as she walked to him. Her wild, multi-colored curls wet, dirty, and tangled but he hoped not singed, absorbed his interest. Her face, softening slightly now, dirty, too, he found too much to bear.

"In a different life maybe," she said, her tone suddenly light, her timbre low. "In a different life, maybe we could've been soul mates instead of star-crossed lovers. But, it isn't to be. I do love you, though. You must always know that. They can't take that painful reality away from us."

He looked up into her eyes as her voice cracked over the words. Tears had formed in her eyes, and were now creating clean streaks down her face. He shook his head, raised his hand, then clenched his fingers into a fist, deciding it best not to touch her.

"Yes," she continued. "I will always love you. Sadly, maybe only you. But, if it's to be my fate, to be alone and in love with a man I can never have, I've long ago accepted it. We know we can't see each other again, no matter how much we want it. I just needed to tell you that I loved you, too, and to say goodbye. So, goodbye, farewell, Ciaran Byrne."

She moved against him, then. Both still only in bathing suits, she pressed her body against his, reached up to trail her fingers through his hair, grabbed and pulled his mouth down toward hers, as she lifted up onto her toes. Her hard nipples scorched his chest. She kissed him, then, as if her life depended on it. Her mouth opened for him, for his tongue, letting him taste her as she swallowed back a sob.

"No," he said with his lips against hers, the sound of the word muffled within her mouth.

"Yes. We just can't be. Don't make it harder than it has to be. Let me go knowing that I love you. Still. Always."

"This can't end on some sappy line that sounds like it came from some damn romance book."

"It will. It has to."

She made the fatal mistake of groaning, low in her throat, as he gripped her harder. Their mouths came together again, fiercely. Their bodies pressed against each other until his rapidly growing erection strained to press through the two thin layers of fabric separating him from her. His stomach tightened as he grabbed her ass, lifting her up. Pleasure enveloped him like a warm blanket as she jumped up to wrap her legs around his waist. He ignored the demon. Cursed it actually, wanting to only be a man against her for a moment, rather than an evil entity thanks to the plague of some malignant spirit.

This time, she groaned, "No."

"Yes. If I'm going to say goodbye, I'm going to have you first. I'm going to make this one last memory one we can live off of forever."

"You know. That isn't. How that works. You will just. Want more. Make it harder." She'd gotten out a few words in between his savage kisses. "Besides, they won't allow it."

He wouldn't hear of her protests. Instead, he carried her into his bathroom, sliding them into his shower, one large enough to accommodate them both and then some. He hit a button as they passed through the door, and water poured down from a large round spout in the middle of the ceiling, creating a basic small rain shower just for them.

He pushed her against a wall, his demon taking pleasure in the way her lungs released a large amount of air when her back hit the stone. He'd been quiet a moment, as quiet as it could be. The savage beast soothed, if you could use such a term in accordance with such a thing, by Ciaran's savage lust for this woman. He took off her bathing suit with a deft sweep of his hands, pulling the straps off her shoulders and down her body so the rest of the material followed. She stepped out as if automatic, her eyes wide, oddly unblinking, as he removed his own in the same fashion.

"We can't," she managed, on almost a sob, which damaged his heart like a sharp arrow while his demon laughed. 

They would have her.

In fact, his demon demanded of the others to leave them alone. They'd know what for, and of that they wouldn't deny him. He'd been warned. They'd assume it a goodbye screw. As long as he kept the sex rough enough to keep the demon happy, no one would bother them again for a bit. They'd stay, though, ensuring the fuck short and sweet. A lecture he'd have after on the dangers of love.

He tugged on her hands, and she moved with only a hint of resistance as he walked them under the water. The warm mass of drops moved over him, doing nothing to relax him as his body, his mind, his demon poised to take her. A moment of fear made him hesitate. The beast slithering inside him, infecting him, felt unstable. He'd no idea its reaction to making love to the woman he loved rather than having savage sex with a stranger. Would it call for the coven again, or just enjoy? Would it tempt him into losing his mind, and making that one final shift no man could return from?

You won't hurt her, he growled inside his head, as he watched her head roll back with a moan. She'd relented, and he found himself incapable of holding back, trying to focus on the lust rather than the love. He did, however, gather up his last ounce of restraint, wanting to savor her body, not just take it. He'd make fierce love to her on his bed. Hope it would appease the savage beast. But first, he'd worship her, taste her here under the water.

His best laid plans, of course, went awry in seconds as he fought for dominance, in a way to appease the demon, but hoped she'd see as foreplay. As he grabbed her wrists, moved to push her against the wall again, trap her with his body, she fought back, hands on his chest, using her entire body to try to move his. No match for him, she used shock tactics, jumping up and wrapping her thighs, small and strong, around his waist. His erection bumped her ass, and he found himself done for.

Carrying her to his bed, he threw her down, plunged in to her warm, wet center. She gasped and moaned, welcomed him instead of fighting him, her thighs wrapped around him so tightly he could feel her feet on his ass. They moved together as if made for each other, one heart, one soul. He closed his eyes when they flashed red, when his demon got some idea, some inkling of taking the woman. While Ciaran understood the intention, he couldn't figure out the means. Nor did he continue to think on it as he felt her tremble beneath him, her arching more dramatic, her breathing more pronounced.

She came with her whole body. He remembered it well. He wanted to see the pleasure on her face, her heavy lids, her open mouth, but he dared not open his eyes. Lust. Love. They merged together and his demon grew confused. Sadistic rage. Evil glee. The electricity of the change came swift, fierce. Before his creature emerged, he pushed away from her hard enough to hear the breath whoosh from her lungs. He couldn't look. He couldn't talk. He stepped back, disappearing from the room, locking himself in the bathroom as the change came.