Demon Spelled

by Gracen Miller

  “Do any of you wear a full set of clothes?” She glanced about before making a beeline for the table pushed against the wall. As she neared, she paused, and he realized she’d figured out it was made from bones.

  “What is wrong with our clothes?” Troz asked, confusion staining his voice.

  Peering at herself in the mirror above the table, she used her palms to tamp her glorious auburn hair down. The long mass cascaded to her waist, and Lyx couldn’t wait to get his hands in it and muss it while he fucked her. Wrap the locks around his fingers and hold her down as he penetrated her body.

  “What’s wrong is all of you are only half dressed.” The quivering in her voice wasn’t what disturbed Lyx, but rather the sudden tranquility of her emotions as they leveled out to a low hum of…what? Resolve, perhaps?

  Troz ran his hand down his chest. “Males never wear shirts. That’s for earthly men. You’ll be even less attired. Our slaves don’t wear clothing.”

  “The women that were here when I arrived were dressed.”

  “That was my sister and her friend. Neither are slaves. It’s a class distinction.” What was she up to? Even her voice had flattened.

  She glared at them. “I won’t walk about naked all the time.”

  His spouse crossed his arms over his chest and offered her his finest you’ll do as you’re told glower, which worked on most demons. Just not their woman. When Troz was unsuccessful at cowing her, he said, “You will or I’ll punish you.”

  Sanja’s temper spiked. The feisty emotion buzzed across Lyx’s flesh.

  “I won’t.” The letter opener that’d been on the table moments before, glinted in her hand. Fuck, Lyx had forgotten it was there. The gadget was extremely sharp so the apparatus could cut through envelopes made of skin. “I. Will. Not.”

  She managed to get the blade to her throat and drag it across her flesh an inch and a half before Troz bellowed, “Stop! You are forbidden to harm yourself!” In the next instant he was in front of her, grabbing her wrist. “And just in case you think you could’ve turned this on me or Lyx and harmed us, think again.” He yanked her arm forward, burying the letter opener she held into his belly.

  She inhaled sharply as the Basilisk crafted blade sank into Troz’s gut. Blue blood gushed and coated their hands. As Troz removed the weapon from her grasp, he held her startled gaze. Once he pried the dagger from her hand, he flung it across the room. “We self-heal,” Troz said. “You do not. I’m fucking tempted to blister your ass for trying to hurt yourself.”

  “You understand her desperation, Troz.” Lyx leaned his head near her wound and breathed the scent of her blood into his lungs, while Troz inclined his head in agreement. Many feared his husband because of his detached demeanor and his status in Baal. Few witnessed the vulernability beneath the cool exterior of Troz, but as a young lad, he’d been abducted and held for ransom. Lyx believed that incident was partly to blame for why Troz was so hard and distant toward others now. Troz trusted few.

  Her blood smelled of rapture. A taste, just a small taste…Lyx flicked his tongue across her neck. The slightest flavor of sunshine and ice storms. The ice storms represented one thing only.

  “Goddamn.” Lyx nuzzled behind her ear. Her breathing went wild, and he had to shut down his empathy before she overloaded his circuits with her rush of arousal. Shaking himself out of the drugged state she put him in, Lyx lifted his head. He’d suspected her genetics were more than witch and humanity. He’d been right. But she wasn’t immortal. Since she was bleeding too fast, he suspected she’d nicked her jugular. “Taste her, Troz, then heal her.”

  Troz wasn’t as gentle with her as Lyx had been. Instead, he crushed her against him and slammed his mouth over the entirety of her wound. He suckled hard, his cheeks hollowing.

  Dropping her head back and to the side, a silent offering to feast, a long moan ripped from her. By the time Troz lifted his mouth from her neck, her hips were gyrating against him.

  “Angel,” Troz said. His red pupils almost canceled out his black irises.

  “Yes.” The angel genetics were flagrant in the taste of her blood. He’d slaughtered many of the winged motherfuckers using teeth and claws. He knew the signature flavor of their species. Which meant her mother had hidden her from her father or she’d have been in the custody of angels. They didn’t allow their offspring—nephilim—to run amok in the mortal realm. “We’ll defile her and her ancestry.”

  “With pleasure.” Troz smeared his blue blood along the cut she’d made, and her flesh stitched back together. “Also means Horace tried to kill us.”

  Lyx nodded. Because Troz was part witch, he was immune to angel toxicity. And Lyx had been a warrior long ago, before Horace’s time. All warriors were chosen for their immunity to angel poisoning.

  “I don’t understand,” she whispered as Troz handed her over to Lyx. “I shouldn’t feel this way. I shouldn’t…damn dreams don’t induce this type of sensation.” Her breath shunted out of her as Lyx folded her into his arms. She laid her head against his chest and curled into him as if she sought comfort. He didn’t need his empathy to know her body’s reaction to them puzzled her.

  “Prepare Sanja.” Troz brushed a stray lock of hair off her cheek. The tenderness in the touch told Lyx much. In a short amount of time, she’d grown important to him. And he knew the other man respected her gumption. Even her willingness to commit suicide to eliminate her situation would be respected among their ilk. Few humans were brave enough to see such a rash decision through.

  “I’ll return in an hour with something special for her to wear.” The way his lover peered at her, detailed he preferred to get hot and sweaty with her. Lyx doubted she was ready for that, but…demons weren’t known for their patience or tenderness. They were excellent lovers. She was guaranteed to experience more pleasure with them than with a mere mortal.

  “Before you depart….” Lyx tapped his finger on Sanja’s slave armlet. “I need jurisdiction, too.”

  Troz fiddled with his wristband a moment. “Your blood seals the deal.”

  LYX SETTLED HER on her feet in a large lavatory.

  Erica peered about. Most everything looked familiar, much like her earthly bathroom, just the men were foreign. And she couldn’t figure out why they didn’t terrify her. Why’d she feel safe and protected in their custody? She’d dreamed of them and drawn them, but hadn’t thought they were real. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d sketched prophetic subjects. It was the first time the prophecies had involved her life though. This still failed to justify her bewildering response to either man but rather, alarmed her further.

  Her body erupted with passion when they touched her. She’d never been aroused by other guys, not really. Yeah, kissing had been nice, but she’d not been interested in taking it further with any of them. Pleasure had only ever come by her own hand and that’d been mediocre at best. That’s why she’d saved herself for the man that could make her breathing erratic and her heart race. The man Sybil told Erica she’d someday meet.

  A pipe dream is what Tera called her determination to preserve her virginity, but Erica had felt she’d meet the right guy some day, and she wanted their first time together to be special. Unable to explain her sentiment, she’d concealed the hunch beneath the lame excuse that none of the guys she’d dated aroused her. Hadn’t been untrue, but not the complete truth either.

  Being owned by demons was not what she’d been saving herself for though. She’d had many fantasies about the ‘right guy’ sweeping her off her feet. Some so fantastical, even Cinderella would’ve been envious…or embarassed. Not once had those daydreams involved a demon purchasing her as a sex slave for him and his lover.

  Threesomes and shit was what they had in mind. Bile slammed to the back of her throat. Inhaling deeply, she released the breath slowly, determined not to humiliate herself by puking in front of one of her captors.

  Lyx moved past her, his fragrance a weird musk that seeped into her nostrils like an a
phrodisiac. Her reaction had to be the result of some type of demon spell. It was the only logical reason for her physical response. That she might’ve been bespelled calmed her a fraction, because it had to be some hinky juju or she was hardwired wrong. Neither option was particularly appealing.

  He twisted the phalange-looking faucets and light pink water exited the tap as he bent over the enormous tub. His movements were fluid, graceful really. And his appearance was like nothing she’d ever seen. His purple skin transfixed her with curiosity. A tad feminine with his mannerisms, but she could sense the danger coiled beneath his façade of gentility. A human man would envy his eight-pack and toned muscles. The back he presented flexed with strength. Burned or etched into his flesh were hieroglyphs she was incapable of comprehending.

  He stood and peered at her. His height so great he’d have to bend to enter the doorways of her home. At five feet eight inches, she rarely felt short, but she felt tiny compared to him.

  His bright red hair was pulled back at his nape and ran in loose waves to his waist. Three lines ran vertically along his chin, each one a darker shade of purple. Likewise, two slashes ran horizontally on either side of his nose across the high arch of his cheekbones. His slanted eyes were a bright orange, his pupils green.

  “Do you need assistance undressing?”

  Erica flinched at his question. Although she held no need for a bath, she wouldn’t argue with them over something so minor. “When you leave, I’ll bathe.”

  A slight smile twitched his sensuous lips. “I have no intention of departing the room. You have two choices…disrobe and allow me to bathe you or I’ll shred your clothes and force your compliance.” He flashed his pointy, dark plum-colored talons at her to indicate how he planned to slice her attire.

  Her belly cartwheeled, and her nerves got the best of her, spawning an obvious trembling in her hands.

  He went on speaking. “Don’t mistake my kindness for weakness. I have zero tolerance for disobedience, Sanja.”

  “What’s Sanja?”

  “Your new name.”

  Erica gaped at him, her mouth opening and closing as she contemplated random comments. She finally settled on, “My name is Erica.” Lame! But sweet baby Jesus, that was her name, and she wouldn’t accept a new one.

  He shook his head and reiterated in an unyielding tone, “Sanja.”

  “I’m not a pet you get to name at your leisure. I’m a person—”

  “You’re our pet, and we have named you at our leisure.” His claws clicked against one another.

  Suspecting he grew weary of her defiance, Erica stilled, considering him with caution. With no idea how far she could push him before he lost control, her thighs cramped in response to her fight-or-flight instincts.

  “Sanja is the demon word for purity.”

  How ironic when they held no intention of keeping her chaste for long. Her mom so needed to come through for her with a flashy rescue. Or, hey, Erica would even settle for a rescue by the skin of their teeth. At the moment, she wasn’t real picky.

  “The name change is for your benefit. Helps you forget your former life, which transitions you into your new life easier.”

  Her new life? This was what he planned for her new life? Being bossed about as if she didn’t know what was best for her. Being owned by demons that planned to fuck her without her permission.

  That will fuck me without my permission.

  She’d saved herself for nothing. Viewing her life through her current predicament, her morals had been pointless. Silly even.

  Erica burst into tears. Known for her calm demeanor and keeping a composed manner in stressful situations, this emotional side of herself was confusing.

  “Undress.” His voice emerged rough, no leniency for further dallying.

  Squaring her shoulders, she wiped the moisture off her face with the bottom of her t-shirt and sniffled through the last of her tears. “P-please turn around.”

  “No. Final request. Undress.”

  Erica took a deep breath and closed her eyes as she gripped the bottom edge of her shirt.

  “Look at me as you remove your clothing. You will undress for me.”

  Her eyelids flashed upward, and she bit her bottom lip to keep from bursting into tears again. The shame of being forced to bare her body as he watched burned her cheeks with humiliation. She sucked in a deep breath and exhaled as she pulled the shirt upward. Not wearing a bra, her nipples puckered against the cool air.

  Lyx’s studious regard unnerved her, and she bit her bottom lip harder to stop it from quivering. Erica shoved her jeans down her hips to puddle at her feet before she kicked them aside. She wanted to rail at the injustice of her predicament, but if she planned to get out of this alive, keeping her wits about her would be a safer action.

  Standing in only her panties, she clenched her teeth together. His eyes widened at the revelation of the yellow thong. Oh, how she wished she’d elected to wear her granny-panties. The ones she saved for that time of the month.

  “Wait,” he said when she hooked a finger beneath the waistband of the underwear.

  Holding her breath, she halted, and hesitantly met his eyes. Big mistake. The way they glowed like the fiery-orange of smelting notched her heartbeat to the speeds of an Indy racecar.

  “Allow me.” Lyx’s hands settled on her hips, and he tugged her forward enough that her nipples scrubbed against his chest.

  Afraid of what she’d witness on his face if she peeked up, she focused on his Adam’s apple. Bizarre that he had that in common with a human. Instead of talons, fingertips slid along the skin of her hips. She shivered, her pussy throbbing from a mere touch. Where had her willpower gone?

  I am Demon Spelled! It’s the only conclusion that makes sense. It was the only explanation she wanted to make sense.

  “Negative, Sanja. There is no spell on you.” His fingers dipped beneath the straps of her panties, but remained motionless. “Look into my eyes as I remove these.”

  It took self-control, but she managed to greet his gaze.

  Dragging his palms against her flesh, he lowered the lingerie as he knelt before her.

  “I don’t want to feel like this.” She caught his shoulder to steady her wobbly knees. And gave herself a mental bitch slapping for not shoving him away instead.

  “You’ll only know pleasure in our bed.” He buried his face in her intimate curls.

  She strangled on an outraged gasp and had trouble finding her voice. “I’m a virgin. It’ll hurt.”

  “Not for long,” he said against her pelvis. Lyx kissed the flesh above her pubic hair, before notching his head back. A fingertip spiraled through her tight vaginal curls. “I’m a fan of this, verifies your humanity. I wish to give you a trim the old-fashioned way.”

  What did he consider ‘old-fashioned’? His finger flicked across the crease of her pussy, and she jerked against the teasing touch, eliminating her curiosity for a split second.

  “Sit on the vanity and spread your legs.” He shifted out of sensual and into business so fast, her brain swam from the incongruity. Lyx stood and went to a cabinet. No point in arguing or resisting his wants when defiance would gain her nothing. But it didn’t mean she wanted to comply.

  When he faced her and saw her seated on the countertop, he smiled. “Cooperating wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  Damned difficult, but she remained silent.

  “Spread your legs further.”

  Erica had expected that request since only a hand-span separated her knees.

  “I’ll help.” He approached with a long, swaggering stride and set an earthly looking razor beside her on the countertop and a bottle of what she hoped was shaving cream. His palms cupped her knees, and his thumbs were creating circles against her flesh on the inside of her knees. “Lean back on your elbows.”

  Belly clenching, she obeyed while trying to convince herself she wasn’t mortified he’d see her intimately exposed.

  His hands pushed her thighs
wide, his touch sliding down her calves to grip her ankles and anchor her feet on the edge of the counter. With his scrutiny focused on her crotch, she couldn’t take hers off his face.

  She felt the blush burn across her breasts and heat up her cheeks. Mortified by the way he gawked at her pussy, she wanted to look away, but couldn’t tear her focus off him.

  He licked his lips, by all appearances mesmerized by the intimate peek.

  “You’re beautiful, Sanja.”

  She corrected automatically, “Erica.” Was it her imagination or did she sound breathy. He’d not even really touched her, and she ached for him.

  “Sanja.” His thumb smoothed across her folds, and she whimpered. “I will never call you anything but Sanja.”

  Why couldn’t she hate him? Hate the foreign cadence of his voice? Despise him for not recognizing her individuality?

  “And I will never accept being a pet.”

  Glowing eyes shifted off her pussy, and he smiled at her.

  Gawd, but he turned sinfully handsome when he grinned. It wasn’t fair. And damnit, but his essence hijacked her libido.

  He cupped water into his palm and dripped it over her pussy, repeating the step over and over again until she panted. Afterward he lathered her intimate lips with an oily substance rather than the shaving cream she was accustomed to. He’d gone all business again, and she struggled to make the transition with him.

  “A sex-pet is treated better than most slaves in Baal.”

  Like she cared when freedom was all she’d known. “Fuck you.”

  The corners of his lips twitched. In that moment, she got the feeling her defiance amused him. “You will fuck me. Very soon.”

  “I won’t submit, but will fight you.” Why’d she give him that heads-up?

  “We’ll see.” He filled the skull sink located beside her hip with water. That had to be the skull of a giant because no human had a cranium that large. Lyx flicked the razor through the water. “Trust me. I won’t cut you.”