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Kindle Notes & Highlights
by
K. Loraine
Read between
September 18 - October 31, 2023
Deal with the Demon contains mature and graphic content that is not suitable for all audiences. Such content includes dubious consent, degradation, impact and blood play, bondage, and more. Reader discretion is advised.
Trigger Warning list
Regardless of all that, I also happened to know what he looked like. I’d found a picture of him in my research. It was dated, but I clearly recalled his sandy blond hair and piercing blue eyes. He’d been tall and surprisingly built for a man known for sitting in front of a computer all day.
I glanced down at his welcome mat, or should I say unwelcome mat. “Cute.” He followed my gaze to the black rubber boldly stating, ‘Fuck Off.’ “Not that it works.” “I’m not easily swayed.” “Toxic trait if ever there was one.” “Are you always this prickly?” “Yes.” “Lovely.”
When Asher returned, he was barefoot, wearing a pair of low-slung black sweats and pulling on a Henley in the same shade. His face was scrubbed clean, revealing sharp cheekbones and a jaw of golden stubble. Jesus Forking Christ, he was handsome in person.
“Fork with me and find out.” He held my gaze and then burst out laughing. “You do not actually say that.” “I most certainly do.” “You’re missing out.” “Perhaps you simply lack the imagination necessary to find suitable replacements. Fork suits me just fine.” “So you asked your husband to . . . fork you. I can just imagine it. ‘Oh, fork me. Fork me harder, Daddy.’”
I attempted to make the sign of the cross, but being that I was part vampire and not any part Catholic, I only succeeded in smacking myself in the nose. How did Father Gallagher do this? What was it Kingston had said . . . Spectacles, Testicles, Wallet, Watch?
A taxidermy raven stared at me with his beady eyes from the mantle. Judging. “Your opinion is not required, sir. But…I will take a feather.” I plucked a shiny black tailfeather straight from his arse. “I’d say sorry, but you started it.”
Drunk Rosie is hilarious lol
An enormous demon stood in the doorway, his purple skin shimmering in the light. All he wore were tight leather breeches, but the rest of him was on full display. Rippling muscles rivaling any male I’d ever seen. A head of aubergine-colored hair that fell over one shoulder and down to his waist. He narrowed his glowing lavender gaze on me, grinning as he ran a hand over his locks and between two deep purple horns so dark they were almost black that sprouted from his hairline. A tail swished behind him, reminding me of a lion lazily taking in his surroundings. “Well, this is . . . an unexpected
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The demon bowed, holding my gaze as his arms swept out on either side of his well-muscled torso. “You may call me . . . Pan.” I didn’t even fight the giggle that escaped. “Pan? As in pots and?” The curl of his lip turned decidedly sulky. “No.” “Are you going to elaborate?” “Do you think it wise to annoy the demon holding your very life in the palm of his hand?” “Let’s not get dramatic, Potts.” “Pan.” “Peter.” “Pan.” I laughed. “Gotcha.”
Gritting his teeth, he let out a low growl. “I want that which no other will have. So yes, I’ll take your virgin blood, but in order to grant you a new life, I’ll need more than sex magic to do it. It will require life magic. The beauty of your body and the way it’s made is that you, Roslyn Blackthorne, are able to create life. That is what you’ll sacrifice to me.” Shock curled up in my gut, the sensation a ball of ice. “W-what?” “You heard me. Give up your body. Your womb. Your chance at producing offspring. And in exchange, I’ll make you into the person you wish to be. The woman no one can
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“Oh God,” she whimpered as my index finger circled her opening. I brought my mouth to her ear and whispered, “Don’t cry for him, my dirty little bitch. Cry out for me. I’m the only one who can save you right now.” “P-Pan, please.” “Please, what?” “Touch me.” “We’ve been over this . . . ” “Inside. I want to feel you inside me.”
“If you want it, be a good girl and tell me.” “Pan, I want it.” “Once we do this, you’re mine. You understand? My good little slut. You’ll never be rid of the reminders I leave behind.”
shoving in until I pushed against the end of her, pulsing and filling the womb I claimed as my prize. I rode out my climax as my new toy screamed hers, all the while knowing exactly what I was taking. She would be barren, and I would have her . . . always. That last part she didn’t know about, but she would. Soon.
One of the Mercers stood behind the bar, rag in hand as he polished the wood. These assholes were handsome. Dark hair, bluer than blue eyes, pouty lips, and scruffy jaws. Not to mention bodies forged from years spent running wild outdoors. If there was a picture beside the word lumbersexual in the dictionary, these two were definitely it. Sexy bastards.
“We’re closed, Asher.” “Door was open.” “The back door.” “You like it when I use your back door.” His cheeks went pink, and I smirked. “So it is you, Remington.” “Remi. No one calls me Remington. You know that.”
“Actually, I need you to do me a favor.” “Making you breakfast isn’t enough? This isn’t fucking Burger King. You don’t get to have it your way.”
He was right. That forked tongue had been very useful. I’d had no idea. The demon might have ruined me for regular men. How could they compete with that?
Jesus, I needed to get laid. It had been months. Fuck, months? I did a little mental math, and yes, six months, to be exact, since Remi and I shared a night with Darla.
Fuck she has an accent? No way was I keeping my hands to myself. Off-limits, schmoff-limits. If this chick gave me the green light, I was going for it. Accents were my wolf-nip. She pulled open the door, and my stupid heart skipped a beat. Pretty? No, this woman was fucking stunning. She had this cute nose I wanted to boop just so I could make her smile. And a sexy little beauty mark I wanted to lick. And . . . motherfucking shitballs, this was going to be an epic failure if I had to keep my word.
My wolf gave a little snarl at the comparison. We were so not a puppy, but if she wanted to rub my belly, I’d let her call me her good boy.
Memories assaulted me. Some real, some mere wishes. The ghost of Asher’s lips against mine and the scrape of his nails over my scalp. The press of Ben’s chest against my back as he corrected my pour. Remi’s heat as he breathed over my knuckles. Gavin’s scent. Pan’s wicked tongue.
What was it about a forearm? It was like the male equivalent of a Victorian lady displaying her ankles. Just one glimpse set me all a quiver.
“Wolves are easy creatures, Nadia. We just want someone to rub up against and to give us scritches behind the ears. Maybe let us nip on them a little.” “Hump them, you mean,” I said, recalling the only male shifter I had any sort of relationship with. Kingston Farrell always seemed to be ready to hump something. Namely his mate. “That too.”
I was a sick bastard. I knew that. But I didn’t fucking care as I watched Rosie—fuck—Nadia fall back into bed and slip her fingers between her thighs. I’d forgotten I left the feed running after my check-in with her last night, but when I heard her moaning, I stumbled to my desk and told myself I was just checking to make sure she was okay. Turned out she was more than okay. She was horny. And dammit, so was I.
Life sure had gotten exciting all of a sudden. A girl fakes her death, and suddenly the whole world as she knows it goes tits up.
My first rollercoaster. Ben’s kiss made my stomach flip the same way as the first big drop. My head went dizzy, my legs tingly and weak, and adrenaline followed. His hold on my face stayed tender. It was so different from the way Pan touched me. Gavin too. They wanted to own me. Ben wanted to cherish me.
Asher owned me in ways no one else did, in ways I never let myself examine too closely. As much as I wanted him to be, he wasn’t a casual fuck. He was a toxic addiction I couldn’t quit. Maybe because I didn’t really want to. Usually I had no trouble letting people go. I was used to them being temporary. But not him. Only one other person in my life caused the same sense of twisted panic at the thought of losing them. And it was way too fucking soon to be thinking that way about her.
I didn’t recognize this woman. The one who wanted to keep all of them. I blamed my sister-in-law. Until her, I wouldn’t have ever imagined the possibility of multiple love interests. Why should I choose? Sunday bloody well hadn’t.
Only because you don’t want to resist him, you strumpet. You don’t want to resist any of them.
“Ro-Nadia, wait!” Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. There was no way I’d be able to face him. Not after I’d watched him rail Remi into the desk and touched myself like a wanton heroine from a bodice ripper.
I was desperate for the chance to prove I could give her everything she needed. Not just me, but my wolf. He was clawing at the barrier between us, begging to be let out. His interest was new. My wolf had never cared about any of the women I hooked up with. Nadia was different. Special. Mine.
Fuck, if this is how good you feel with clothes on, what will it be like when I sink inside you with nothing between us? When I give you my knot? My steps faltered. Where the fuck had that thought come from? I’d never gone bare inside a woman, and I’d certainly never wanted to breed one.
My, how quickly things change in only a couple weeks. My grumpy, rugged boss had turned out to be a—what was the term, cinnamon roll?—with a really talented tongue. A grin stretched across my face as I let my thoughts drift to revisit everything that happened last night.
Why was it men could sow their wild oats and be applauded for it, but single women were expected to be chaste little virgins? No thank you. That was the patriarchy trying to keep us from learning about the power of good sex and demanding it for ourselves. If a woman didn’t know better, she’d stay shackled to a man that wasn’t good for more than a few mindless pumps and no thought of her own orgasm.
THISSSS
Darla’s wide smile was blindingly white. “We’re going shopping. You can’t just hide in this godforsaken bar all damn day. The boys think they can keep you here all to themselves, but that’s not happening.” “They’re not keeping me.” “Oh, please, I know a Bentley Mercer sex bubble when I see one.” Heat crept into my cheeks, combined with jealousy. How did she know? “If we’re going to be friends, you should probably know I tapped that. Both of them, actually . . . at the same time.” “What?” Had I heard her wrong? I didn’t think so. Fantasies battled for attention in my mind. Had I just discovered
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This is really the ONLY OW drama scene and it really isn't considered bad. Don't like that Darla works for them and will always be around but at least she doesn't want them, and it happened only once. I actually like Darla lol Yes, I am commenting AFTER I finished the series.
“Oh, honey. Remi swings both ways. He’s a sexual connoisseur. Sometimes he drinks red wine, sometimes white . . . maybe even a rose.” “That’s from Schitt’s Creek.” “Still true. Bisexuality is more common in shifters than those toxic Alphas want to admit.”
“I wish,” Remi grumbled. He’d been very vocal about his jealousy since discovering his twin and me in the kitchen, using every opportunity to point out that Ben got what he wanted.
Remi is kind of annoying right now with being all butthurt about not getting laid 🙄
Before I finished my prep work, Tom, Dick, and Harry burst through the door, all three of them trying to squeeze through at the same time. Unfortunately for the burly gargoyles, they were too wide and got lodged in the doorway, the trio turning into one snarling tangle of curses and limbs. “Oi, you tosser! Get out of my way.” Harry’s brow was so deeply furrowed I could barely see his eyes. “Get out of my way, ye fat bastard.” Dick elbowed both of them from his position in the middle and popped free of them. “It’s the both of yous who are in my way, ya gobshites. Wait yer turn.”
These three are my favorite for sure lol
“All the way. To the fucking root, ma petite chou.” She backed away, and I let her, those big eyes blinking up at me. “Did you just call me your little cabbage?” “Oh, I’m sorry, did that offend you? Shall I just refer to you as my filthy little slut instead?”
“Breakfast sounds lovely. Any chance you might have some beans or stewed tomatoes on the menu?” I gaped at her. “We don’t do that weird British shit here. You’ll get your eggs and toast and love it. Maybe even some bacon and . . . coffee.” “Bean water?” She sat up and held her palm to her chest, scandalized. “Please, spare me the dreaded drink of the rebellion.”
The American tosser had her in his arms, his lips molded to hers, his hands in her tresses as he defiled what was mine. Who the bloody hell was this wankstain? He certainly wasn’t one of the Mercer twins.
Lol I love Gavin and his POVs
Oh, for fuck’s sake. Stray dogs are less clingy.
I’d take them out, one by one, starting with the human. There was no need to rush this. I’d bide my time. Savor it. Silence each voice whispering in her ear until the only one she heard was mine. I never said I was the hero of this story. I was one hundred percent the villain, and this time, I’d win.
Unable to set foot on the ground anywhere within this ridiculous town’s limits without being scented and exposed, I was relegated to leaping from tree to tree. All I needed was a loincloth and some oil, and I’d be bloody Tarzan.
She traced the pattern of ink on Asher’s—what sort of name is that? Honestly, he’d be better off if his mum had swallowed—hand, following the stars all the way to the middle of his forearm.
Gavin’s inner dialogue is just the best 😂
“It’s my experience that I think more in the shower. Come on, let’s lie down for a bit. We’ll put something on the telly.” His adopted British accent was abysmal, and I sneered. What a fucking donut. He sounded like Hagrid from Harry Potter. But she laughed. My duchess fucking laughed, and I hated him.
