by Tes Hilaire
“I’m sorry, I…”
“You underestimate yourself. All the time.” He reached up, stroking back a sweat drenched strand of hair. And, oh Lilith help her, mustn’t she look a horror. “You are beautiful.”
The funny thing was, when he said it, she believed him. There was no denying the ring of truth that crossed their bond with his words. And holy shit, they had a bond. How that was possible, she still didn’t understand. Or perhaps understand wasn’t the right word. Trust. She didn’t trust it could be real.
She could sense Mike’s mourning at that thought. Her doubt hurt him. She didn’t want to hurt him.
“Then love me, Katrina.”
She closed her eyes. She could do this. Tonight she would love him with all she had.
“And tomorrow?” he asked, sadness licking at her resolve.
She opened her eyes, trying to expose the inner part of herself as she did. She could give him this at least. “I’ll always…care for you, Mike.” Couldn’t say love. Not out loud. Love meant pain, and she wouldn’t cause Mike any more of it. “But I won’t hold you. I won’t do to you what was done to me.”
“You don’t need to hold me, beauty. I’m already yours.” He laced his fingers through the fingers of her good hand, careful of her splinted arm as he pulled her down to him for another one of those impossibly sweet kisses. “Go ahead, beauty, bring me home.”
And so she did. And when he came, gasping her name, she followed him into his heaven.
Chapter Seventeen
Mike’s heaven lasted only long enough for the waves of pleasure to pass and their hearts to even out once more. And then it happened, the thing he’d been fearing and dreading: Katrina was trying to pull away…again. And this time, after finally sharing themselves with each other so completely, he didn’t think he was going to survive it.
It felt like a part of him was being ripped out. It felt like the organ behind his ribs was being mangled, torn into a billion pieces, and rearranged backwards.
“Mike?” Katrina gasped as she pushed up on his chest with one trembling arm, her other gingerly tucked against her. And then she was back in his mind, no doubt trying to search out the source of the pain. Her sadness overwhelmed their bond as she must have realized it was her own instinctive urge to erect those barriers that had sliced his soul.
“Oh, Mike. I’m sorry. I…”
He cursed, pulling her back over him, and kissed the top of her head. She hadn’t fully dismantled the barriers, but she’d lowered them, enough that he could feel the steadying sense of her presence. “I know it’s going to take time. I understand. I just don’t like it.”
“I hurt you.”
“I’m a big boy. I can take a few bumps and bruises on my path to happiness.”
She lay still for a few minutes, turbulent emotions slapping up against their bond as she fought with herself to both contain them and to not close him out.
“Katrina, stop.”
She shook her head, burying her head deeper into his pectorals. “What if I can’t be what you need? What if I can’t be enough? What if all I do is hurt you?”
He reached up, tipping her chin so she was forced to look him in the eyes. “You are exactly what I need.”
“Not right now.”
“Not everything is perfect. It takes commitment. And commitment sometimes means pain, and it always means work. I’m not afraid of a little sweat and dirt, are you?”
She laughed, shaking her head, though he sensed there was as much doubt as determination in the action. He tried to siphon through all the spinning wheels in her head, but couldn’t.
“Your thoughts are running a mile a minute. I can’t keep up.”
She sighed, and the barriers slid a little further, allowing him to view some of thoughts that led to her doubt. And then she began to speak, filling in the rest. “I don’t really remember my mother, just a vague impression of a woman who cringed whenever she looked at me.”
He resisted the urge to tense, instead trying to memorize all the additional images and impressions that struck him as she spoke. The woman didn’t look much like her. The blond hair. That was it. Katrina saw rejection, but he saw something more: shame. Katrina was the embodiment of the woman’s humiliation.
He tightened his arms around her, giving her the support she needed to go on. “I take it you weren’t with her long.”
“I was given over to the state. I don’t know for sure how old I was, probably a toddler. I was in and out of a few foster homes but none ever stuck.”
The hurt of that was like a samurai yielding his blade, slicing and dicing her delicate young ego to shreds. Why wasn’t she good enough? Why couldn’t anyone love her? But then she’d learned why.
“I was nine when my real father came and got me. He didn’t have any paperwork. Nor was there any father listed on my actual birth certificate, but somehow, he convinced social services to hand me over into his care.”
She swallowed, pain twisting the images that came with that memory. A tall man with dark curling hair. A strong man with powerful muscles. Hero and enemy. Mike tried to see past these impressions to the rest. From him Katrina had inherited her exotic eyes and the bone structuring that made her model worthy. But unlike Katrina, there was no kindness in this man’s features, rather a detachment as he looked down at the child he’d come to collect. That distance didn’t stop Katrina from looking at him with such hope and longing it about killed Mike. This is the man who had failed her first. Mike would remember this demon’s face.
“I thought, at first, he was my white knight come to rescue me. But he didn’t want me either. I heard later that he only retrieved me on the suggestions of Ganelon. So the moment he could, he turned me over into another succubus’s care.”
This image was clear with its first impressions, probably because Katrina had no conflicting emotions where she was concerned. The succubus had once been beautiful, but was scarred now. The succubus’s lips were drawn into a hard line, an endless well of hatred in her dark gaze.
“I’m guessing she wasn’t exactly Mary Poppins.”
Katrina choked out a laugh, but sobered immediately. “She was a hateful woman who had no desire to raise a half-human brat which had no concept of our ways. I spent most of my time answering to her beck and call, the rest being silent and observing when there was an opportunity for me to learn. Then one day my father showed back up, saying it was time.”
Mike didn’t like how she’d tensed and fought to not show it. “Time for what?”
“My real lessons.”
“Tell me.”
She shook her head, tears falling onto his bicep. And though she refused to verbally tell him, she didn’t manage to block the images that flashed across their link. And what he saw made him want to rip her father apart. Her father had given her to another incubus to train. No, not just any incubus, but the one from her nightmare. The first part of the initiation had been somewhat kind but then, well the nightmare was nothing compared to some of the rest. His Katrina had been taught that once a sex-demon had gotten their fill of their partner’s passionate emotions, the only thing left was crushing their soul. A two-for-one deal. Hot sex, passion, and desperation followed immediately by bewilderment, hurt…and yup more desperation. Again and again and again.
He shook, wanting to lash out and kill something, he settled for squeezing her tighter. “I’m sorry. So sorry.” He kissed the top of her head. “It’s over. I won’t let them hurt you anymore.”
He wouldn’t either. She was his now and he’d protect her with all he was.
“Mike, don’t. I don’t deserve that sort of devotion.”
“I disagree.”
Hot tears fell on his arm, her fingernails biting into his chest. “You wouldn’t if you really knew all I did.”
As if he would give a shit. He knew her heart. Knew that despite her upbringing, she’d managed to reserve enough of her soul to shine brighter than even the most vibrant star. He als
o knew she didn’t believe that. And until he understood the demons she faced within herself, he wouldn’t be able to help her eradicate them. “Then finish telling me. Please. So I can understand.”
She shuddered, but nodded, her back stiffening as she went on. “I never enjoyed the games. Never wanted to feed off of emotions that were tainted with pain and despair. Which meant I was a failure in my father’s eyes. So he tossed me out, letting me fend for myself.”
“How old were you?”
“Fifteen.”
Fifteen. Christ. And this was after that bastard had been brought in to teach her. She’d been a fucking child. “Is he dead?”
“My father?”
“Either of them.”
She shook her head. “No, they still live.”
All the better. His beast needed an outlet. And he would end their miserable existence the first chance he got.
“After that I was the go-to kicking bag for any succubus or incubus who didn’t want to have to go topside for their prey.”
He closed his eyes, trying to contain his fury. His list of demons to kill was getting awfully long. As a half-succubus she would have been weaker than the full-bloods. Her human instincts must have allowed for a sliver of empathy beyond the cravings. And though humans might have prized such compassion, in the world she’d been dragged to, it had set her up as a victim.
“How did you survive it?”
“I didn’t, remember?” Her tone was hollow now, almost mechanical, but she pressed forward. “I existed for almost five years, hoping it would end. Trying and failing to claw my way up from the bottom, but I was just too weak. Too human, to do what I needed to do to compete in their world.”
“So what changed?”
“Ganelon came to me. He offered me a deal. And I was too tired and too desperate to think beyond the end to the humiliation and pain.”
Ah crap, he thought he knew where this was going. “And the deal was?”
“His protection, for bearing his child.” She tipped her head, lifting her haunted gaze to his. “Mike, I sold my baby to the devil’s right hand man.”
***
Agony was his frequent-flyer friend, pain his constant companion, despair his long-lasting lover. Damon had no idea how long he’d endured down here, if endured could even describe the half-life he existed through now. Had it been years since his actions had ensured his path to his father’s table? It felt like far more, centuries perhaps, yet between the raging river of never-ending torture and drifting islands of blackness, he didn’t think it could even have been more than, what? Five, six months at most? And for what?
Jessica was dead. Ganelon had made sure Damon was well aware of that fact, telling him again and again how his son’s betrayal had all been for naught as the General had wielded his knife to slice into Damon’s hide.
Fuck. Damn it, Jessica. The human cop had somehow made him give a shit and in a moment of pure insanity he’d fucking switched sides. The ultimate betrayal in daddy’s eyes. And Damon’s actions hadn’t even made a lick of difference.
Not true. The Paladin lives. And judging by how pissed dear ole dad was, he hadn’t fallen yet either. Damon figured that was why he hadn’t been granted forgiveness yet.
Normally Ganelon’s lessons were painful and pointed, but they didn’t last more than a few hours, maybe a couple of days, a week at most. But it seemed daddy had been hedging his bets on the fact that the Paladin would fall with his human mate’s death. A real win-win for Lucifer’s General. Not only would his turning be a real sucker punch for the Paladin to have lost one of their best warriors, but then daddy dearest would have some real companionship in his hell-bound home. Misery loving company and all that.
Though really, Ganelon was beyond misery now. He lived and breathed to inflict all the pain he’d ever felt on others. And whoa, looky here, wasn’t Damon lucky enough to be the stupid sacrificial bastard who’d volunteered for the job when he’d jumped in front of that killing blow meant for Jessica’s damn Paladin?
Damon swallowed, cringing at the taste of his own blood, even as his throat rejoiced at the liquid. When had he last been granted water? A long fucking time. He was seriously beginning to fear he was going to grace his father’s table until either the Paladin finally succumbed to the insane craze that came with losing his human mate or someone else did something as stupid as he.
Yeah, and how many here would ever dare betray Ganelon?
He started to laugh. It was that or give over to the despair. Fuck, he was going to be here forever.
“Are you okay?”
Damon stilled. Who the hell?
He twisted his head, ignoring the grind of the stone alter against his bearded cheek, and saw a child shift forward out of the shadows at the back of the chamber. Not, not just any child, a girl child. He’d seen the little girl with curling blond hair and round hazel eyes skittering around Ganelon’s personal set of caverns a few times now over the last…what? Few days? Week? Hard to tell.
“Hey, kid. Enjoying the view?” He knew she was too young to really get the joke, but then again, with those exotic wide eyes, she was obviously part succubus. At least this time he was face down instead of equipment up. Ganelon’s latest session had focused on taking strips off his backside.
She swallowed, her chin jutting up. “Is that man really your dad?”
No guess who she was speaking of. Only man who’d been in here was Ganelon, and only then for…instructional purposes. He hoped to hell this little girl hadn’t been here for that. He may still have felt like Swiss cheese, but his merker heritage had kicked into high gear and he was healing, so even though he was blood covered, at least he didn’t look like a complete horror extra anymore. Bonus: he wasn’t screaming any longer, either.
“What did the man look like?”
“Brown hair, older than you, taller than my mommy, but not huge.” She shrugged, folding her arms over her chest. “I can’t really remember much else.”
“Yeah, that’s my old man.” Pretty much unremarkable. Until he got to work on his art of torture. The way Ganelon yielded his blade with a stony face and not a spark of emotion in his muddy brown gaze was something no one would forget. Damon closed his eyes. Ganelon had left a while ago. Shit, just how much had the girl seen?
Didn’t take long to figure that out. She opened her mouth, paused, squared her shoulders and tried again. “What did you do to make him so mad?”
Damon chuckled, it was either that or cry, and frankly he was so bleed out he didn’t even think he had any liquid left in him to squeeze out a few tears. “Let’s just say I’m turning out to be a grave disappointment to him as a son.”
Her eyes widen, her face going pale.
Ah shit, he’d scared her. Way to go, dickwad. “Hey, it’s all right. He won’t much care about what one little succubus does. Just stick closer to your parents and stay out of the General’s way, okay?”
She wrapped her arms around her midsection, her gaze focused on the dirt stained ballerina slippers she was currently scuffing the floor with. He narrowed his gaze, focusing on the slippers for the first time, noting how out of place the sweet little bow-topped toes seemed making patterns in the sticky pool of blood on the floor. Not only was there a fucking bow, but beneath the blood, dirt and grime, he’d bet another round on the table that they were pink. In fact, her entire outfit was awfully…pink. Not exactly a color a succubus would doll her daughter up in, even if she was being schooled on proper human culture and dress.
He frowned, wondering why, beyond the abnormal coloring, her clothes were so dirty. And not just her clothes either, the majority of her pale cheeks were smudged dark and her blond hair hung in limp dull strands around her face. Was anyone even attempting to care for her?
“Kid?” Damon called. She looked up at him. “Where is your mother?”
Her lip trembled. “He says she’s dead.”
“Your dad says this?” A dark suspicion caused his ribcage to clench do
wn. He didn’t have a mother either. No merker did. No merker were allowed to. And she’d be at the perfect age for Ganelon to have decided it was time to collect her and eliminate any potential mitigating influences to his ultimate training goals.
She can’t be a merker. There are no female merker.
She shook her head. “No, your dad said that. but…” she trailed off, biting her lower lip.
“But what?”
“He says he’s my dad, too.”
Well, shit. He hated it when he was right.
Chapter Eighteen
Mike made love to Katrina periodically through the night, and each time he gave her a bit more of himself and in return she prayed, prayed to a God she’d never dared pray to before, that she could please, please be what he needed. That they could be…happy.
Only now as she lay beside him, her body thrumming with the energy she couldn’t seem to help but receive from that same lovemaking, she knew that was a fantasy. Still it was a nice one, and one that got her through the night, even knowing that tomorrow would most likely be her last day.
Today she would save Mia. And because she was unwilling to do so at the cost of Mike’s life, she knew that it would most likely be at the cost of her own. And so she sent an additional prayer up to God, okay, even she had to admit it was more of a bargain: she’d give her life gladly if Mike and Mia would live free of Ganelon.
Please, please let it be that Mike loves me enough to fall in love with Mia as well.
Her sorrow must have caused Mike to stir, that or the natural rhythm of night giving over to day calling to the beast. Beneath her cheek she felt as much as heard his heart speed up, his lungs taking in the first deep wakeful breath of day.
She forced herself to think of wonderful things: Mia’s light laughter, how Mia smelled right after a bath, how Mike’s arms felt around her, how he gazed at her as if she was the most important thing in the world.
Stop it, Kat. Do you want to cry?
“And why would that make you cry, beauty?”