Saving Her

by B E Brouillard

  “Wait,” he murmured, and she stopped. Uncertain now. She wasn’t normally this brazen. Had she made a mistake?

  He raised himself, pulled himself up onto his elbows, eased her back up his body until their faces were level again. His eyes glowed…a shimmering flame that she’d come to recognize. He lifted her and shifted onto his knees until they were facing each other, kneeling, nose-to-nose, still on the couch. His shoulders heaved as his breath grew more ragged. Those impossibly honed shoulders. There were tracings of ink that highlighted the lines of his muscles…dark tattoos…she was fascinated by the patterns and licked at them.

  She trailed her lips along his skin, then impulsively sank her teeth into his flesh, and he chuckled, making her look up. She stared into those glowing eyes for a second, shivering as he slid his hands beneath the edges of her robe and slipped it down her shoulders and arms, flicking at the belt that had tied the garment loosely around her waist. It pooled around her knees, and she was left naked before him, more exposed than she had ever felt in her life. Yet safer. She was safe with him. It was in his eyes…those inhuman eyes. In the gentleness of his touch as he raised the thick swathe of her hair from her shoulders and bared her torso to him. It was in the burning intensity of his gaze as he looked down the length of her.

  “Beautiful,” he breathed. “Beautiful beautiful beautiful…” and then his lips closed over her nipple, and in an instant, every fragment of her consciousness was sucked into that one tiny point of her body. She swayed, curled her fingers into his hair, pressed his face harder against her breast.

  “Oh, my God,” she choked out. He’d wound an arm around her waist and tightened his grip as he pushed her back until she was lying in the soft cushions of the couch. He stayed kneeling between her thighs, reaching for the half-unbuttoned waistband of his jeans that she’d fumbled with earlier. His attempts were more successful than hers, and in a moment, her passion-fogged eyes were trailing down his naked body.

  He stood and kicked his legs free of the heavy denim – his boots must have been discarded hours ago, but they were the last thing on her mind right now. All she could think of was the sculpted perfection of the man standing before her. Lines of ink defining shimmering muscle. Taut, honed, rippling…and clearly as aroused as she was. The sight of his thickening cock should have been intimidating, but at that moment, there was nothing she wanted more.

  ‘When did I get so lucky?’ she thought.

  “When did I get so lucky?” he breathed, impossibly echoing her thoughts, eyes traveling over her. She took a sharp little breath that turned into an all-out moan as he traced a finger down her chest, beyond her navel, and into the dark patch of curls at the juncture of her thighs. She splayed her knees and felt her hips lift of their own accord as his finger dipped further. Over the throbbing nub of her clit and into the wet well of passion beyond.

  “Oh! My! God!” She gasped again, certain that if he made even the slightest move, she’d be undone right then. Then his fingers were gone…and before she could open her eyes, he’d covered her with his hot mouth, tongue swirling over that tingling bundle of nerves, dipping into her heat. Caught by surprise, the sensation threw her straight over the edge. Arching her back, she gave a sharp cry of pleasure, bucking up against him, her nails raking scarlet trails over his shoulders. He remained there, mouth fixed over her, drinking like a man who’d just found an oasis in the desert.

  As she slowly descended, he raised his head, meeting her eyes. His own were crimson now, and she bit back a gasp. It should have terrified her, but all she wanted was more. More of this…man? Demon? Whatever he was. She tugged at him, urging him to move up along her body. Her skin was warm, coated with a light sheen of perspiration, and he slid over her slickly. She could feel the hard length of him pressing up against her.

  He raised himself onto his elbows as their faces drew level, brushing his lips against hers. She could taste herself on him, flicked her tongue out to lick the flavor off his lips. She could feel the tip of his cock nudging against where her body lay open to him. Felt him press deeper…and then he was inside her, and her world was again reduced to a single point of sensation that wiped out all sane thought. As he rocked into her, she draped her arms around his neck, hooked her calves around his hips and clung. Clung like a drowning woman who’d found a life raft in an ocean. As the waves of pleasure swelled and washed over her, she met his thrusts with her own wild gyrations. His lips traveled over her lips, her throat, her face as he kissed tears from her cheeks. But now they were tears of pleasure. Tears of joy.

  When the sensations finally ebbed, and she lay spent, he made no move to slide himself from her. She had a feeling that he could continue if she chose. The image she’d seen in the book in Mr. Brixton’s office came back to her. The incubus drawing pleasure from the writhing woman beneath him. The creature designed to give eternal ecstasy…she wasn’t afraid of it. She did want more. This was the best sex she’d ever had. The best lovemaking she’d ever had.

  When she glanced shyly up at his face, he grinned at her. He knew what she was thinking. He traced a fingertip along the line of her shoulder and then blew lightly along the path. For a second, she had a sensation of a million tiny kisses tripping over her skin, and her eyes widened. He blew against her chest, and the kisses seemed to swirl there too…and then lower…lower…until she was arching against him. Feeling his mouth in places she couldn’t comprehend, because he was lowering his face to kiss her lips again.

  “Again?” he asked against her mouth.

  “Again,” she whispered back.

  Chapter 12

  Axel’s mind was in turmoil. He’d left when Desirée slept, to find a place to put his thoughts in order. The roadside bar had called to him again. For all its grime and lack of charm, it made him feel comfortable. The night with Desirée had shaken him.

  Never had he felt such intense emotions. Known such pleasure. There had been countless women before her, but nothing like this. Not in his living days, and not in the decades since then while he’d been undead. He sat at a wooden table in a dark corner, nursing a hefty shot of bourbon. The table bore the dark rings of the endless traffic of spilled glasses that had passed over it for twenty years or more. He traced one with his fingertip.

  “This is it, Armstrong,” he murmured to himself. “This is the one.”

  “The one what?” a female voice broke into his reverie. His head shot up and looked into her eyes. Her cold, beautiful eyes. Her features were a picture of glacial perfection. She could have been carved from alabaster. He couldn’t think of a time he’d seen her displaying any sort of emotion, but now… Now there was something. He couldn’t put his finger on it. A tension around her eyes. A tightness to her mouth. It wasn’t appealing.

  She spoke again. “What are you getting yourself into, Axel?” It wasn’t the first time a woman had asked him that question this week. He tilted his head to the side and looked at her. She read the question in his eyes and smiled. “Come with me…” She was standing, one hand outstretched to him. He hesitated for a moment and then took it, let her lead him to the door.

  As he stepped over the threshold, it was as if he’d dropped into a different world. A place of swirling black clouds and warm breezes, incense on the air.

  The woman in front of him turned and looked back over her shoulder at him. The dark leather he always associated with her was gone, replaced by a swirling dress of black satin, her hair drawn up away from her face. Her features were catlike, eyes slanted, brows dark wings above them.

  She licked her lips as she strode ahead then reached behind her neck to release the catch of her dress. It dropped to her feet in an obsidian pool, and she turned to face him, naked aside from a silver thong that barely covered her modesty. Her arms were adorned with heavy silver bracelets. More silver was draped around her neck, a large amulet resting between her breasts.

  She was perfection.

  He stood, motionless. This was the moment Lilith had see
n in his future. Her words replayed themselves in his mind. “Take care of who you allow to lead you. You do not know where they will lead you. To whom they will lead you.”

  “Come to me, Axel.” The husky voice of the half-naked woman in front of him sank into his mind like honey. She ran a hand down the taut line of her belly and dipped her fingertips beneath the top of the silver scrap over her crotch. “Come to me…come with me…I have pleasure to show you, pleasure beyond your wildest imagination.” Her hand dipped lower, and he could see where she had pressed them into herself, her hips gyrating slightly. Her nipples had hardened; dark, puckered nubs that drew his eyes as she continued to twist her hips.

  He glanced up and met her eyes. “Where?” he asked. “Where do you plan to take me?”

  “Anywhere you wish.” Her voice was breathless, as if she was responding to the pleasure of her own touch. “There is no reason to lock yourself in that realm.” She glanced upwards. “No reason to stay locked in Purgatory. Come with me and rule the roads at my side. We can take our pleasure with each other. Take our pleasure wherever we seek it.”

  She stopped and moaned, spreading her thighs so that he could see her hand between them as her fingers moved rhythmically, pleasuring herself. He kept his eyes on hers.

  “And what’s in it for you?” His voice was cool, and she narrowed her eyes.

  “An eternity of pleasure…with you, Axel,” she replied, pushing the silver fabric down and letting it shimmy down her thighs, standing in front of him completely naked. She stepped closer. Closer still. Close enough that he could smell her musk, feel the heat of her lust. “There are things I know…ecstasy I could give you. Pleasure you could never find here. Never find with her.”

  It was Axel’s turn to narrow his eyes. He felt his jaw set. Her hands had fluttered to his chest, and she trailed her fingers up to his shoulder, curled her arm around his neck, pressed herself against him. Her lips moved to his ear as she took his earlobe into her mouth. Her other hand moved down to the waistband of his jeans, then dropped lower, curling over his crotch. “Come with me…” she breathed into his ear.

  Axel took an abrupt step back and, with one quick movement, shoved her away from himself.

  “Don’t touch me,” he snarled. She blinked. Reached to him. He slapped her hand away. “And cover yourself. I’m not interested in…this—” He ran a cool glance over her nakedness. She stepped back, not bothering to cover herself. Eyes as cold and black as a snake’s met his.

  “You…stupid, stupid boy!” she sneered. “Do you think you’ve found the answer here, with some pathetic mortal? What could she possibly give you that I cannot?”

  “It’s not what she can give me,” he replied. “It’s what I can give her.” He turned on his heel and stalked into the darkness.

  “I’ll see you burn in Hell!” she screamed after him, her voice like nails on a chalkboard.

  “Somehow, I think you’ll get there before me,” he answered…and took himself back to Purgatory.

  The air around the dark demon snapped and crackled like shattering ice.

  ◆◆◆

  The diner was as seedy as the first time they’d visited, and Azazel remained as unimpressed as he’d been before. He held his tongue, however. Their ‘guest’ liked the place, and he was not a man to be messed with. He glanced out the window, wondering when he would arrive.

  A waitress hovered beside their table. Clearly no novice to the service industry, she was, nevertheless, unnerved by this customer. The dark-haired man oozed an air of menace, and yet, there was fear there. The woman could feel it. Had enough experience in this business to know trouble when she saw it. She withdrew and poured a cup of filter coffee for a diner at a neighboring cubicle, keeping one eye on the table.

  “Hello, darling,” a smooth voice cut the silence.

  ‘Fuck!’ thought Azazel in alarm, ‘Where did he come from?’

  “I’m never far off, Azazel, my sweet,” the voice interrupted his thoughts, reminding him that this was someone who knew every thought, every deed, everything he did or said. He dipped his head and felt, rather than saw a presence grow closer as Satan slid into the booth at his side.

  The waitress had returned soundlessly and was pouring a cup of filter coffee without being asked. The devil ran his eyes over her briefly, dismissively, then reached into the top pocket of his immaculate suit and withdrew his handkerchief. Azazel snuck a sidelong glance at the bright yellow square and recognized the cheap fabric. It was the same as the uniform worn by the woman attending them. He closed his eyes briefly and stared straight ahead. He imagined that the bright young girl who had served them before had not met with a favorable end.

  “Your cohort isn’t making much headway,” Lucifer interrupted his thoughts, taking a sip of his coffee. Azazel shrugged. There wasn’t much to be said in response. He and Imentet had spent countless hours revising their plans. It seemed that they were being thwarted at every turn. “You realize there will be a price to pay for failure,” Lucifer continued.

  “Lord, we’re working tirelessly, I assure you,” Azazel objected. “If something can be done we—”

  “We what? Will try and try again? This isn’t kindergarten, poppet. You don’t go to the Naughty Corner for getting it wrong. I don’t pat you on the head and give you a medal for trying anyway.”

  “Lord, we—” Azazel’s words were cut off by a roar of rage that rattled the windows.

  “There will be Hell to pay, you fucking imbecile!” bellowed Lucifer. Azazel shrank back. The demon beside him at the table was surrounded by flames that licked at the walls and up to the ceiling. Azazel glanced around furtively. Somehow, nobody else in the diner seemed to notice. These flames were intended for him alone. A little glimpse into the fiery pit that awaited him should he fail.

  “I was promised a soul. I don’t particularly care who it belongs to. Do you get my drift?” Satan turned his beautiful, terrible eyes to Azazel and stared at him for the longest moment of Azazel’s existence. He desperately wanted to look away but found himself unable to tear his gaze away. “You’ve been promised a seat at my side if you succeed in infiltrating Purgatory. If you’re capable of harvesting those souls for me. I don’t know why it’s so fucking hard – they’re already half-damned anyway.”

  “I…I…I-” Azazel stuttered, cringing in the face of so much unfettered evil.

  “You-you-you are a fucking moron, darling,” Lucifer mocked, his voice silky-smooth again. He’d put his cup down and dropped his free hand to Azazel’s thigh, trailing his fingers upwards. Every instinct in Azazel screamed at him to get up and run. Lucifer knew it, the smile on his face curling cruelly as his palm reached a spot that had Azazel gasping with terror. He knew what Imentet had felt now, the last time they’d been here together. Felt the Devil’s fingers close around his throbbing manhood, drawing a response from him that he didn’t want to give. Terror and lust collided as he looked into the man’s eyes.

  “Bring me a soul, Azazel,” those fingers tightened, “bring me a damned soul, or I will take yours. And this will be just a tiny taste of what you can expect for all eternity.” A searing pain scorched upwards from Azazel’s groin into his belly; for a second, he was convinced that he’d been emasculated. He wanted to twist, to scream, would do anything to stop the agony.

  And then it was gone. And so was the evil entity that had been sitting beside him.

  He took a deep, shuddering breath. On the table in front of him lay a bloodstained scrap of yellow fabric.

  ◆◆◆

  Axel prowled the halls of Purgatory, looking for the one person he knew could counsel him through his confusion. Alaric had been conspicuous by his absence for a while, but Axel had been too preoccupied to seek him out.

  “What’s the problem, biker boy?” a dry voice broke into his thoughts.

  “Speak of the Devil,” Axel replied, just as drily.

  “Bite your tongue!” Alaric snapped back. “I may be a demon, but I’m
certainly not the Devil.”

  Axel rolled his eyes but secretly fought down a shudder. He didn’t need a reminder of how close they all were to that particular horror, especially after his recent run-in with Imentet.

  “I’m…I’m at a crossroads, Alaric,” he decided to jump straight to the point.

  “Oh?” Alaric raised an eyebrow. “Can’t decide on blonde or brunette for dessert?

  “I’m serious,” Axel replied. “I need help…your advice.” It burned to have to admit it, but Alaric had been the only one who’d ever been willing to help him understand this place since he arrived.

  “I’m listening…” Alaric prompted, serious at last.

  “I’ve found her, Alaric, I’ve found the one. She’s the one…the one I need to dedicate myself to.” He was uncharacteristically sincere. The change in him made Alaric sit up and take notice.

  “Really?” he asked. “I thought you weren’t buying the whole idea of committing to just one woman, or some such nonsense.”

  “I’ve changed my mind,” Axel muttered darkly.

  “What was that?” Alaric pressed, unable to resist taunting the arrogant youngster who’d carved a reputation for being an ass.

  “I’ve changed my mind,” Axel repeated. “I was wrong. I don’t need anyone else. I need this one. Desirée."

  “The blue-eyed angel…the baby,” Alaric murmured, nodding, suddenly pensive.

  “Yes,” Axel replied. “Desirée. I need her. And she needs me. I can’t leave her. It’s not…it’s not safe for her out there.”

  “Why would you say that? She’s an adult, she can take care of herself. You can’t choose to be with someone because you think they’ll die without you.” Alaric narrowed his eyes at him.