by Lana Kole
“I didn’t—They’re not my… ” Sputtering, she looked back and forth between the demons to her left and right. Truth’s ocean blue gaze captured hers and held it, and he read the question in her eyes without her having to move her lips.
“He’s telling the truth. You’re his daughter.”
Well, there it is. She wasn’t dumb enough to argue with Truth, even though confusion and frustration burned through her. “What’s your name?” she inquired as she turned back to the... stranger, eyebrows pulling into a knot of confusion. “How did you even meet my mom?”
Behind him, a chair appeared and he sat down without even looking, moving the cat to his lap and scratching him behind the ears. I’m just assuming he’s a he, okay? Cats are cats.
“Believe it or not, this place gets a little boring, and I’ll go out into the human realm and play for a bit. What was your mom’s name?”
Daria blanched, the thought of her mom taking part in a one-night stand and getting pregnant, only to be so casually forgotten was too much for her to handle. “You don’t even remember her?” she seethed, glaring at the… at the chaos demon before her.
“What? It’s been, wait, how old are you?”
Blood pressure rising, Daria gritted her teeth and glared at the ease with which he lounged about. “I’m twenty-six.”
“Ah yes. Samena. I remember her now.” A gleam lit up his eyes as he stared off into space and Daria gagged before she shouted at him.
“No! Stop that! Don’t go there,” she warned. “She went by Sam.”
“I know.” He grinned slyly. “And I’m Chaos, but isn’t that quite a mouthful? My friends call me Kay.”
Daria glared at him doubtfully as he pronounced only the first half of his name. “Friends?” She took a pointed look around the empty room. “They’re just lined up out the door, are they?”
His eyes narrowed on her, but she watched his lips twitch in a smile. “That they are, daughter. And speaking of, friends call for a party. So let’s party!”
With a snap of his fingers, the artificial sunshine faded, a deeper, darker moonlight taking over and casting the room in a beautiful glow. The demons beside her stiffened as Chaos and his cat disappeared.
Movement across the room drew her eye and Chaos reappeared next to the waterfall, cat still lounging in his lap as he settled into a chair.
That cat had to be magic or something, because no real cat would be that relaxed next to such loud water.
She thought about marching over there and confronting him again, demanding answers. What did he mean she’d caused that chaos?
Before she knew what she was doing, she’d taken a few steps, but then a hand reached out to hers. Glancing back, she found Death with an arched eyebrow, who slid his gaze pointedly to Misery.
Misery’s hands clenched into fists as he stared at the floor, but it wasn’t agony that wafted from him, like usual. Squeezing Death’s hand in answer, she moved closer to Misery and leaned down until she caught his gaze. His head lifted with hers as she studied his expression, trying to read him. He’d released so much misery on the cult. She worried how bad the side effects would be. Her... father could wait. She had more important things to deal with, more important people.
Misery’s jaw worked as he ground his teeth together, and the battle in his dark eyes promised pain and suffering. But Daria wasn’t afraid as she slid her hand down to grasp one of his fists, the muscles relaxing as she went, until his fingers curled around hers in a death grip.
“It wants out,” he whispered, and Daria’s heart cracked in half.
“It’s okay, come with me,” she murmured, and she walked him to the theater, Daria taking one last glance at her demons as she did so. Truth nodded his respect at her before he dispersed to another side of the room. Betrayal was already by the fire, a glass of whiskey in his hand as he stared at the flames. Hope wandered off to pace around the room, and Death met up with Truth. She turned back to Misery before she saw where they went, the slump of his shoulders making Daria want to do nothing but comfort him.
Where did her cuddly drunk puppy go?
Daria felt too weird with her father across the room, so she spied a button on the wall. When her finger pressed against it, the divider slid silently around their little paradise, giving them privacy in the small theater room. Pulling Misery down onto the nearest chaise lounge, she settled beside him. And there was still space to either side of them. There was even a blanket at the foot of the seat. It was more like a small bed, but she didn’t say anything, and she definitely tried not to think about who’d been there before them.
The wall locked out the rushing water and other sounds from the great room beyond, so only their breaths echoed in the small space. And her heartbeat, if Daria was honest.
Something felt different about this, and she didn’t know why.
“Are you okay?” she asked Misery to distract herself.
“I will be,” was all he said before he pulled her closer. He rolled them until he was on his back and Daria curled around him, fitting perfectly against his side with her head on his chest.
“Did you not get high this time?”
He stiffened for the slightest second before relaxing again. “I did, while everything was happening, but Chaos zapping us here kind of sobered me up. And now it just wants out again. Already.”
Daria’s heart pounded in fear. “Has it always been like this?”
“For the most part. When we were in Pandora’s jar, it wasn’t as loud because the jar kind of muffles the need.” His voice was hoarse. “The thing is… misery is everywhere. It’s just waiting for me to tap into it, breathe life into it and blow it up into something… agonizing.” He shivered, and she didn’t know whether to be concerned at his show of affection for the pain, or not. Having had a taste of that bit of power-drunkenness herself, she understood in a way she hadn’t before.
“Do you think the more you use it, the harder it is to resist it?” she asked for herself as much as for him.
He nodded, but with her head against his chest she only felt the movement, not saw it. “That’s it exactly. The more I give into it, give it a voice, the louder it screams.”
“Misery… ” Her voice broke. “That sounds awful.”
“It is, resisting it, I mean. The voice itself is lovely, seductive.”
Daria didn’t like the sound of that at all.
“So after the high, you crash, just like any other addiction? Then it comes back worse than before?”
“Pretty much. But I have the willpower to resist it, at least for now.”
“Why now?”
“Because you’re here.” The words spilled out in a rocky whisper.
She couldn’t help the smile that curled her lips amongst the worry flowing strong. “Then I’ll just have to make sure not to go anywhere.”
“I’d like that,” he mumbled, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. Her heart swelled, fingers gripping the material of his shirt, accidentally tugging it up a little too much and baring a strip of pale flesh above his waistband.
She froze at the movement, not knowing whether to tug it back down or just leave it.
“Are you scared of me, Daria?”
When did Misery’s voice get so low and gravelly?
“No, never,” she answered with point-blank honesty. Misery might have his problems, he might be one of the most dangerous demons, but he was also the most vulnerable. The most scared.
And in that moment she decided she wanted to take a little bit of that away from him, at least for a little while.
“Are you sure?” he whispered, and she propped herself up to stare down at him. Different emotions chased across his features before the lightest one settled in the darkness of his eyes. Lust.
She wanted to fall into it. And so she did.
Just like that night in the club, on the second balcony with the fog and the smoke and the writhing bodies around them, it all fell away. Her worries about he
r father, the chaos she’d inflicted, and exactly what that meant, it all faded into the background. Misery’s lips were soft against hers, a contradiction to the prickle of his shadow covering his cheeks.
One of his hands came up to frame her face, his palm warm against her cheek. The kiss deepened, and she opened her mouth to him, their tongues twining. Her heart pounded as his hand moved to the back of her neck to fist in her hair, and the other traced down her side to wrap around her hip. He broke the kiss to stare down at her, his thumb caressing the back of her neck.
“I need you,” he whispered brokenly, his lips swollen and red from the passion of their kiss.
“You’ve got me,” she barely gasped out, before he took her mouth again. It was as if all his fear, her worry, and their desperation mixed into one, until they were nothing but need.
He rolled them, steadying her with that hand on her hip, and cradling her head in his palm until she was on her back and he leaned over her. Their lips didn’t break apart once.
Until Misery trailed his lips across her cheek and down her neck, sucking a mark into her flesh. Her hands flew to his shoulders, magnetized by the way he took command.
Daria hadn’t been with a lot of guys. And it honestly hadn’t even been that great, but Misery had already cranked her higher than she’d ever been with either of them. Her blood raced, her heart pounded, and when he moved into her and she felt his hardness against her thigh, her breath caught.
He noticed, and pulled back just the slightest, his dark eyes a deep storm that she wanted to get lost in.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
Before he even finished his question, Daria was nodding, a little too eagerly if the chuckle he released was anything to go by. They both looked surprised at the sound.
I made Misery laugh.
“If I’m sure of one thing in all this craziness, it’s this.”
He searched her expression a little longer, studying to make sure this was what she wanted, and it made her even surer of her decision.
His hand came up to frame her face again, his thumb tracing her bottom lip. “You’re fucking gorgeous, you know that?” He released her lip with a pop before he ducked back down to press his lips to hers. Then he continued the path he’d started earlier, until he tugged down her shirt with his pointer finger to place a kiss on her collarbone.
Before he even asked, she reached down to grab the hem and pulled it over her head, his hands helping along the way. When his fingertips traced the curve of her side, flesh against flesh, goosebumps sprouted from the spot to race across the expanse of her skin.
“You too,” she said, and he wasted no time sitting up, gripping the neck of the shirt at the back, and yanking it over his head. The movement made the muscles in his arms flex and it wasn’t until then that she truly noticed how strong Misery was. He was lean, but no less powerful than even Betrayal, she’d bet.
Why the fuck am I thinking about Betrayal?
She pushed the thought away in favor of blatantly staring at the vision Misery made. Skin so pale, it was obvious where the dark trail of hair led. And she wanted to find out first hand.
Daria made room for him between her legs when he leaned back down to continue his work, sliding his hands behind her back and unhooking the bra clasp. He peeled the garment from her skin like it was gold—slowly, carefully, reverently.
Goosebumps danced across her skin again, tightening her nipples as he undressed her. A sound strangled in his throat and she hid her grin by biting her bottom lip, savoring the struggle between arousal and patience play tug-of-war on his face.
He must have found a happy medium between the two, because he leaned down to place a kiss between her breasts before he traced a trail with his tongue to the left one. His lips wrapped around the pink tip, the warmth from his mouth such a contrast to the cool air it pulled a gasp from her lips.
Threading her fingers through his hair, she let her head fall back in sudden weakness as her thighs clenched on either side of him. A sigh of appreciation slipped out as he licked and teased her nipples, back and forth until she could feel the wetness between her thighs. Their hips moved against one another, mimicking the pleasure they worked toward.
Her hands skimmed his flesh, his muscles hard under her fingertips, his skin warm against hers where they met. Eventually, she had her fill of his chest and arms, and trailed down until she could reach the waistband of his pants. His hips moved of their own accord, grinding into her, and she bit her lip again to hide the grin. Daria liked that she affected him.
The soft hair on his stomach tickled the back of her hands as she worked the button and zipper open, only slightly surprised to feel the heat of his length right away.
“I always wondered how guys wore such tight jeans,” she mused, glancing down at dark eyes with darker intentions.
“There’s enough going on down there without having a pair of boxers to mess with,” he teased, and while he didn’t laugh, she giggled for both of them.
A giggle which quickly melted under the heat of his gaze as he kissed down her stomach, moving out of reach of her greedy touch. And then it was his turn to pop open the button of her pants, going a step further and stripping them and her panties off in a few tugs, stopping to pull off her boots first. They hit the floor with a thud, and he went ahead and followed suit with his own, until he stood before her, both pale and dark at the same time, bare and perfect.
Before she could move backwards to make room for him on the bed, he grabbed her ankle and pulled her forward. The possessive movement made her breath catch, her heart skipping a beat and a flush breaking out as he dropped to his knees before her. She moved, intending to sit up, but he gently pushed her back down with a hand between her breasts.
Sliding his palm over to tease and take a nipple between a thumb and forefinger, he planted a soft kiss on her hipbone.
“Spread your legs,” he whispered into her skin, and she followed the raspy command as if her life depended on it.
With the way her heart kept lurching, it probably did. There was a name for that—arrhythmia.
A sound grew and died in his throat as she spread her legs, the cool air playing between her thighs and teasing her higher in the same way his gaze did. Placing a palm on each thigh, he spread her even wider before leaning down to kiss, nip, and tease around her lips. The breath rushed out of her and her stomach clenched at the tickle of his shadow on her sensitive skin.
When he stopped suddenly, she tilted her head down to see why. She was met with, “You’re gonna kill me before this is over.”
“What a way to go,” she whispered, before her voice cut off in a cry as he leaned in and flicked his tongue over her.
The teasing was gone, or at least Daria hoped so. Misery was everywhere. His palms were hot against her thighs, his tongue wet and focused where she needed it most. As if that wasn’t enough to have one of her hands grasping at the blanket and the other threaded through his short hair, he sealed his mouth around her clit and flicked his tongue back and forth. The edge rushed up hard and fast as she gasped and rocked her hips against him and she was just almos—
He pulled away, trailing down to tease at her entrance before he stiffened his tongue and fucked her with it. Daria didn’t know whether to tighten her grip in his hair and drag him back up or yell when the wave receded and she was left wet and needy on the edge.
She settled for a low moan, the sound portraying her desperation as he continued. It seemed she’d spoken too soon—the teasing had only just begun.
One of his palms left her thigh, his fingers trailing over her heated skin before dipping into her wetness and spreading it over her. He repeated the action before he pressed a little farther at her entrance, then slipped his finger inside her.
A hum of need rose in her throat, the blanket knotted in her grasp. The sound trailed out when Misery focused his mouth back on her clit, the palm holding her other thigh moving to settle over her pelvis, her stomac
h clenching in need. Then the real torture began when he hooked his finger inside her with a come hither motion, and Daria tossed her head back on the cushions as she sailed to the edge again, faster than before between the dark magic he worked on and in her body.
A soft hum vibrated his lips and tongue over her and she almost shattered right then, but he pulled back completely. Her hand fell from his hair, and it took her a few seconds to realize it, and to catch a breath, before she peeked up to glare at Misery.
Instead, she gulped when she saw him suck her arousal off his finger, and he shot her an absolutely filthy grin. “I could do this all night.”
She almost whimpered at the thought, but he ignored her and kissed her thigh before trailing his mouth back to where she both wanted and dreaded it. Twice more he brought her high enough to float away and then pulled back—leaving her dangling and desperate with want. Every time, she rushed high and hard and fast, until it was like he unfurled the sails, the wind catching her hard and pulling her back down to earth without a climax.
Reduced to begging, she tangled her hand in his messy hair. “Please, please, just fuck me. Hasn’t it been centuries for you or something?”
Once again, Daria had succeeded in pulling a laugh from Misery, but he caved, kissing his way up her chest, teasing her nipples one last time before taking her mouth with a need she knew matched her own.
Legs already shaky from the way he’d tortured her, she let him reposition them farther up on the chaise lounge. Then he settled over her and she moaned at the heat of him between her thighs. Sliding a hand between them, she curled her fingers around his hard length, positioning him at her entrance. At the last second, he pulled back to stare down at her and she almost screamed in frustration.
“Since it’s apparent demons can indeed get women pregnant, we need protection.”
“I got the shot a few weeks ago,” she gasped out, her heart beating hard against her chest until she was sure he could hear it.
“Thank Dora’s fucking box,” he whispered, leaning down to nip and suck at her neck.
She couldn’t stand to wait much longer, but stroked him anyway, watching the lines on his face ease with the pressure of her grip. With a flick of his lashes, dark eyes stared down at her, the pupil barely discernible from the iris.