Demon's Embrace

by Devereaux, V. J.

  Perfect.

  The stars were bright overhead. He searched for the ones he knew. They were the one thing that had held from his youth, the name of those bright constellations. They were touchstones for him, familiar and known after being so long away. He could pick out the constellations of the Bear, of Pegasus, the north star still pointed north.

  Ash pulled around to the back of the building in case their enemy still searched for them. The ancient dusk to dawn light in front, dimmed by the passage of time and the grime of exhaust, was still alight. It cast the rear of the building into deep darkness and he drove them into the thicker shadows there.

  The parking lot was empty, occupied only by the great white bulk of a tank of natural gas to one side. It rose like a whale out of the darkness, slightly rusted with age, the blotches of rust like barnacles on its sides. Otherwise there was just the broad expanse of black tarmac, the lines that marked the spaces faded by time and light.

  “It should be safe enough here,” Ash said, looking around as he helped Miri from the bike. He looked at her worriedly. “Are you all right?”

  For all her brave words, she was still a college professor, an academic. The most of this kind of excitement she’d ever faced had likely been in movies and books. Reality was a bit different. Still, she’d held up remarkably well.

  Miri looked up, clearly grateful for his steadying hand as he helped her off the bike.

  “I’ll be fine,” she said, softly.

  It took only a kick of Ash’s booted foot against the door to get them into one of the inner courtyard rooms on the second floor at the back of the small complex.

  Looking around, the darkness no impediment to his enhanced sight, Ash nodded. “At least we won’t have to sleep as rough.”

  While he’d slept out beneath the open sky many times in his long life and enjoyed it, it was just that little bit too cold, when there was no need to suffer he wouldn’t. Nor would Miri if he could help it.

  And he needed the sleep to restore himself.

  The room was musty, dark and dank from being closed up in the shadow of the great towering pines native to this area but a little magic took care of that. It would do well enough. He had just enough magic remaining for what he needed.

  With a gesture, he conjured a few candles, scattered them around the room. A fire spell lit them.

  Another spell banished any vermin that might have taken up homes in the carpet.

  Lastly, he summoned some of the bedding from his old quarters on the ethereal plane, let it settle over the rusting bed frame that remained here so they would be suitably comfortable.

  He conjured up some food, enough to give him some sustenance. At least they wouldn’t starve.

  Looking around, Miri shook her head in astonishment. Candlelight lit the room warmly, softly.

  The fear had worn off but she felt jittery and unnerved by the violence. Until now.

  Magic. She’d felt it. The room had been nothing but shadows and darker shadows, Ash’s body sensed more than seen, the warmth of it a beacon beside her. Then, suddenly, there was light.

  While she understood the concept from her vision of him and from what she’d seen of the ethereal planes, she’d never seen such profligate use of it.

  The mattress overhung the full size bed frame by inches on each side and the sheets, judging by the rich golden sheen of them, were silk. A light quilted covering in a deep scarlet satin lay overtop of it. The candleholders were gold filigree.

  A platter of meat appeared on the sole table, along with a thick round of bread, olives, cheese, fresh vegetables and a bottle of wine.

  Miri just shook her head in wonder, turning to look at Ash.

  In the dim light his stoic expression showed nothing but there was pain in him, it was evident in the way he stood. Blood had trickled from a wound in his arm and another in his thigh, staining his jeans. Small cuts and scratches were scattered over his arms. Those, at least, had stopped bleeding.

  Both breath and heart caught as the bond between them echoed his hurt.

  “Ash,” she gasped, pained.

  Stepping closer, she could see the wound that had passed through one biceps. Half-healed, it had reopened under the twists and turns they had taken. It had to hurt like hell.

  “Ash, my God,” she said, softly, stricken.

  “It’s nothing,” Ash said, with a shrug. “They’ll heal.”

  They would, eventually. They pained him but he’d taken worse, much worse, over the centuries. He’d become almost accustomed to pain over time. In time they would heal of their own accord.

  “There has to be something I can do. Magic up some bandages for me,” she said, clearly horrified. “The least I can do is clean and dress them.”

  Ash smiled. Magic up. The phrase amused him. He would have chuckled but her gaze was so intent.

  With a wave, he did as he was told and produced some antiseptic and a small package of gauze bandages from his house here on this plane. As one of the Healers among the Daemonae there were times when a simple dressing was far easier than magic, which cost energy. Or those times such as now when the Healer – who couldn’t heal himself – needed to be bandaged.

  There was tenderness in Miri’s touch. It moved him to see the care she took.

  It had been a long time since anyone had tended him and never with this kind of solicitude, not since his mother when Ash had been very small. Before they’d killed her.

  For all the excitement and gunfire, for all her fear, Miri’s touch was gentle and her scent was soft. She smelled of the sea and Miri. As close as he was he couldn’t miss that delicate perfume as she gently cleaned the wound in his arm. For all the pain, there was Miri and her soft scent to ease it.

  Seated on the edge of the mattress he’d layered on the bed, he was at eye level with her, all too conscious and aware of her attention on him, of her sea-foam eyes focused on the wound in his arm. Just her touch was enough to send heat coursing through him.

  He studied her while he had the chance, while she was so close and so intent.

  Save for those otherworldly eyes, she reminded him of a clever, pretty fox with that rich red hair and those high cheekbones. Her nose was straight, her mouth perfect, neither too thin nor too full. Candlelight flickered softly over her fine features, caught in the red and gold highlights in the rich waves of her hair as it cascaded around her face. The light was too faint for even his enhanced vision to see the light dusting of freckles over her nose.

  To his eyes she was beautiful.

  Aware of his regard, she slanted a look at him and the beauty of those celestial green eyes struck him nearly like a blow. His entire body went taut, his abs tightened and his cock stiffened. There was something in her eyes.

  “I want to see you,” she whispered, her eyes on his. “All of you, Ashtoreth. The real you.”

  Ash hesitated, fearful for once in his life as he looked back at her, knowing what it was she wanted. She wanted to see him, Ashtoreth, as he truly was. She would see what had been done to him, see the scars without his clothes and the concealing darkness to hide the worst of them from her.

  It was one thing to see his Daemonae self in the heat of battle, this was something entirely different.

  She wanted the truth of him.

  It took an act of courage for him to do it.

  He took a breath and tugged his t-shirt free of his jeans. Her hands went to his, stilled them.

  “Let me,” she said softly, her green eyes intent.

  Ash watched as she turned her attention as intently to removing his shirt as she had to cleaning and binding the wound in his arm.

  Miri couldn’t stop looking at him, at all of him. So close, he was even more striking. His strong features were so unique, sharp and even more handsome up close.

  A breath sighed out of her. It was all so incredible. All her life she’d dreamed of this kind of connection, this sense of belonging. She’d sought it in others not knowing she would only find
it here in him, in Ash. In wonder, she traced the strong line of a cheekbone, his dark eyes brilliant as they looked back, touched with sparks as he looked at her.

  He was so beautiful and yet his gaze was shuttered, closed off in a way. There was a different kind of pain in those eyes. From her visions of him, she thought she knew why.

  It felt as if her heart and breath stood still in anticipation as she slid her hands beneath his t-shirt to the heated skin underneath. Part of her couldn’t wait to see him bared before her again, longed to be able to touch him. She wanted to draw it out the moment, make it last, like opening a present to herself. And to him.

  She skimmed her hands up his ribs, gathering the material in them before she stripped it up over up his head and let it fall aside.

  A long sigh of pleasure escaped her as she ran her hands lightly over his broad shoulders, slid them over the hard muscles of his chest, taking the time to simply admire the beauty of his body, the glorious curves and planes of it.

  She sighed.

  He had a body to admire. There was strength in him and power. There was also pain, it had been burned into his skin, cut into it. Her fingertips trembled as she touched them, the scars they’d left on him.

  Heat moved through Ash at the look in her eyes as her hands floated so lightly over his skin. A shiver went through him.

  She smiled just a little when he did. The pleasure and wonder in her expression as she looked at him nearly made his heart stop. That smile faded just a little as her fingers traced the scars and those pale green eyes lifted so her gaze met his.

  Then she bent her head and kissed the ridged flesh gently.

  No gesture could have touched him more deeply. His cock stiffened, pressed painfully against his zipper. He wanted her intensely but he couldn’t bear to stop her sensual caress, the slow slide of her hands over his skin. It had been so long since anyone had touched him this way. Millennia. None of his recent dalliances had, they’d been too eager to have his cock inside them.

  “Jeans,” she said, “off.”

  He chuckled. “Bossy woman.”

  “Damn straight,” she said, and grinned.

  He unbuttoned his jeans, shifted as he drew the zipper down and watched her eyes widen as his cock sprang free as he peeled his pants over his hips while he kicked off his boots.

  For a moment she went still.

  Miri should have expected it, but somehow she hadn’t.

  Of course, he went commando. Almost involuntarily, she licked her lips as she looked at the sheer size of him. It felt as if she went hot instantly and her pussy tightened at the thought of that rigid, throbbing member inside her. Her breath caught even as she reached out to stroke a finger up the long length of his shaft.

  Ash shuddered, the touch so unexpected that his body seemed to lock in response.

  Getting his jeans off the rest of the way was slight more difficult. Dried blood had glued his jeans to his skin and the wound.

  Ash hissed in a breath.

  Startled, Miri dropped to her knees. Using some of the wine, she blotted at the wound and the cloth around it until the cloth came free, then she helped tug his jeans free before turning her attention to the injury. Even so, she couldn’t seem to resist touching his skin, her gaze returning to his long thick cock.

  What would he look like as himself? she wondered, remembering the fight in the parking lot. He’d been magnificent, glorious. She wanted to see that again.

  Ash shifted his weight to the edge of the bed to make it easier for her. Every inch of him was aware of her on her knees before him binding his hurts, but every touch was sweet torment. After all the centuries, pain was nothing, pleasure was something he’d known far more rarely.

  She looked up at him from beneath red-gold lashes, the color of her eyes deepening, the gold flecks in them brilliant. Those eyes caught him, held him. She looked at him and waited expectantly, a small smile twitching at the corners of her mouth.

  To his surprise, he found himself smiling in return. In the face of that, it wasn’t hard at all.

  He shifted.

  To his heartfelt gratitude, her lips curved and then parted in a soft sigh of wonder as he changed from man to Daemonae, as he became what he truly was.

  As he became himself in truth, scars and all.

  Miri watched as his skin changed color beneath her hand.

  It deepened, turned a dark scarlet, the shade of it rich, vibrant. Gold shimmered beneath the surface like flame over coals. His skin gleamed like satin and was as smooth to her touch. His eyes shifted from a deep brown to vivid gold with sparks of flame that swirled within them, a reflection of his mood.

  At his back wings slowly extended with a soft rustle, reached out behind him like arms. Each one spread like fingers to stretch the delicate membrane between them until they arched above and around them.

  It was breathtakingly beautiful to watch.

  She started a little at the feel of his tail as it slid around her hips. It curled to caress her as he took her hands and raised her to her feet.

  His hands settled on her waist. Each finger was tipped with claws that bit into her skin just a little sharply, enough so she was intensely aware of them. Of him.

  His hair, as dark as ebony and as soft as silk, parted around his horns, his pointed ears, yet was still caught back at the nape of his neck by the leather thong.

  Tentatively, wonderingly, she reached up to trace one of those short curved horns above his forehead with a cautious finger. It was as hard as stone, as sharp as a razor and gleamed like polished jet.

  His strong features hadn’t changed, hadn’t become one whit less stern, less harsh. If anything, they seemed to have become more defined, not harsher but stronger. More than ever he resembled a warrior chiseled from stone but now it was from some smooth, gleaming gem, red jade or carnelian. The golden wash of color flowed in waves and shimmers beneath the surface of that smooth skin.

  Miri could only look at him, at the incredible, preternatural beauty of Ash.

  Her breath stuttered in her chest.

  In awe, she looked up as his wings encircled them to enclose the two of them in an intimate arch, an expansive embrace. The light of the candles filtered softly through the delicate membranes between the bones. At one and the same time his wings looked both incredibly powerful and terribly fragile.

  Ash looked at her.

  There was wonder in her eyes. It stunned him, left him speechless.

  “Can I touch one?” she asked.

  Something inside Ash shivered with anticipatory pleasure. He nodded and bit back a groan as she reached up to run her fingers ever so softly over the delicate skin of his wing. It was an extraordinarily intimate gesture and had his cock as rigid as iron.

  Reflexively, Ash’s hands tightened on her hips as she touched him, pulled her just a little closer to feel her hips nestled against his, against the hardness of him.

  Those eyes. With his vision enhanced by the change this close he could see them clearly in the flickering candlelight. Long red-gold lashes framed eyes of a startlingly pale green, flecked with shots of sparkling gold, all set in a heart-shaped face dusted lightly with golden freckles. She looked at him from beneath those golden lashes. Her gaze lowered and a jolt of heat went through him, shot straight to his shaft.

  Ash scented her growing arousal, the aroma of it rich as he breathed it in. His cock grew even harder, if that was possible.

  “There is another way to heal me,” Ash said, his voice surprisingly hoarse and deep even to his own ears. His hands tightened on her.

  He wanted, needed her, desperately.

  Touching Ash’s wing was like stroking warm suede stretched over powerful muscle and strong slender bone. The sail between the bones appeared surprisingly delicate although Miri could tell it wasn’t.

  His golden eyes met hers at his words, held. The heat in them sent a matching jolt of fire through her.

  Her eyes dropped almost involuntarily to his mouth an
d the tips of the white fangs that indented slightly there.

  Swallowing hard, she cupped his face, ran her thumb across that full lower lip, close to those sexy fangs and licked her lips. She suspected she knew what it was he needed. What would it be like to feel those sharp tips against her skin?

  Miri cleared her throat a little. Something in his voice seemed to echo inside her and sent a flush of heat into her belly, into her core. The look in his eyes matched it, started a fire beneath her skin, warmth flooded it.

  “Is there?” she asked and shivered a little as his hands tightened.

  Then he lowered his mouth to hers.

  His lips were firm, the brush of them against hers gentle. His tongue, more slender than most and clearly forked, teased at the seam between hers then slipped between. That tongue twined with her own to taste her. A shot of lust speared through her.

  Once more she sighed, this time in pure pleasure.

  Sliding her hands up, around and over the strong muscles of his shoulders to the nape of his neck she found the leather thong that bound his hair and stripped it away so she could run her hands through the silken strands. They spilled through her fingers like water.

  A sigh of pleasure whispered out of her at the feel of it, at the feel of his mouth on hers, his tongue exploring her. His tail curled around her hips to pull her close even as his hands did, until she was pressed hard against him, his hips against hers and the long, rigid length of his cock settled against her mound.

  Heat poured through her in a torrent.

  The taste of her, the feel of her, filled him, the neat indentation that was the curve of her waist, the light press of her breasts against his chest. His cock ached, throbbed.

  “There is,” Ash confirmed, in response to her question.

  Heat, pleasure, slid through him. So sweet, this joining. He’d never thought to know this. To have found it now when he’d all but given up…

  He slid his hands up her back until he found the zipper to her dress and drew it down ever so slowly until it stopped just above the fine tight globes of her ass. As the sides of the dress parted it was as if he’d released her scent, her warm skin having heated it. Sliding his hands within the parted folds, he caressed her, ran his hands up the long, strong muscles of her back, her skin as soft as rose petals to his touch. He skimmed his hands over her shoulders.