Devil's Mark (The Reckless Damned, #1)

by Lark Taylor

There was a dead body in my bookshop. Again.

The fact that my sharply tailored suits had boys dropping their boxers at the mere sight of how they made my arse look was neither here nor there.

“Shit. This is serious.” “No, really? And there was me thinking that regular deliveries of human cadavers were merely a demonic attempt at stand-up comedy.”

Not like demons. Our love was rare but all-consuming. When we fell in love and marked another as our own, that was it for us.

Catching Mori’s eye over the top of the man’s head, I asserted my authority by mouthing the universally recognised code of siblings—even demonic ones. Dibs.

Based on my skin still humming from his touch, if he looked anything above a troll, I would take him to the nearest flat surface and throw myself at his mercy.

“Harlow, Cal, and Mori? You must have interesting parents.” He choked on a sip of his drink. “You could say that.”

Whole damn sonnets should be written about this guy’s lips.

I felt rattled, like my whole world had been upended by this man who kissed like God herself had taught him how.

Whatever it was, I was obsessed. And that was a dangerous place for a demon to be.

“What are you doing to me?” “I don’t know,” he said hoarsely, his lips curving into a shy smile. “But I plan on finding out so I can keep doing it.”

All that creamy skin and dark hair could make an atheist find religion.

He made such a debauched sight, utterly naked and lost in pleasure as I knelt at his feet, fully clothed.

“Was that to your satisfaction?” “Satisfaction?” He wheezed, a laugh bubbling out of him as he leaned forwards, arms braced on his knees. “Guy gives me the best blowjob of my entire life, then he asks if I’m satisfied?”

Even if he didn’t know I was there, I would suffer with him. I would be there for him when no one else was.

Hell, if I had my way, Oscar would never leave the safety of my embrace again. Demons were very possessive when we found something we wanted.

Calling on my ancient well of power, I leaned forward and placed my lips on Oscar’s forehead. Marking him as mine.

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry about Harlow. We’ve spent centuries trying to train him, but nothing seems to stick.”

“And I’m telling you that you deserve the world, and I’ll keep telling you that until you believe me. You don’t want to get off the sofa? I’ll sit with you. You’re having an anxiety attack? I’ll talk you through it. No matter what you’re thinking or going through, I’ll be at your side. Nothing about you can scare me away. That’s the good thing about demons. Your darkness cannot contend with mine.”

stared down at him as he slept, entranced by how his curls fell over his forehead and his face relaxed while I held him close. I traced every freckle on his skin, every line and facet that made him unique.

I may have given Oscar the option to walk away from me, but all of Hell wouldn’t be enough for me to walk away from him.

“Cal, move. You’re like twice my size.” “Can’t,” he gasped, nuzzling my neck. “Dead. You killed me.”

“That’s not it at all. None of us thinks you’re weak. For Satan’s sake, you teach teenagers. Willingly. If that doesn’t show you’ve got a core of steel, I don’t know what will.”

“I can’t decide if that’s hot or deranged.” He shot me a wink as he tied a towel around his waist. “Always both, sweetheart.”

“Bestie, time for another demonic boyfriend lesson. If Cal had his way, he’d chain you to his bedpost and wait on you hand and foot for the rest of eternity if that kept you safe. He’s trying to be more…human, for your sake.”

“I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you.” “Something bad, I imagine,” he quipped.

“Haven’t you had enough sex today? Cal, give the poor boy a break.” “Don’t give the poor boy a break,” I whispered in Cal’s ear. Cal gave a deep groan. “Fuck, you’re killing me here.”