Demon Spelled

by Gracen Miller

  Until now, he hadn’t realized how skittish she remained of them. They might have to consider a new form of chastisement for her. Theirs had been efficient with their prior lovers, but…he mentally sighed. They had all been demons accustomed to the various forms of reprimand. Regardless of her new immortality, she was still very human with her thinking. Her soft flesh would bruise easily, and he held no desire to mark her. If she feared Lyx’s punishment, then his more personal style would haunt her. “Sit and converse with us while Cook prepares our breakfast.”

  Lyx pulled the chair out beside him and motioned to the seat. She took the chair but didn’t meet either of their gazes. Instead she focused on her coffee.

  His lover cupped her nape. Her flinch was minute, but noticeable. He envied the ease with which Lyx freely touched her. Not since his kidnapping as a child had he been comfortable touching anyone outside of the bedroom other than Lyx.

  Lyx met his gaze. “Troz, you must realize much of her words to her friend were lies? Meant to calm her.”

  Troz had suspected. In her shoes, he’d probably have done the same. Sanja whipped about to gape at him.

  His purple lover ran fingers through her hair and offered her a serene smile. “My sex-pet, blame your mother. She should’ve taught you how to guard your thoughts. I cannot help but snag them when they’re projected, and you rarely stop projecting. I don’t go rummaging through your mind. I could, but I only do that if necessary.”

  “It’s not impossible for you to pretend you don’t know what I’m thinking.” She licked her lips, and Troz wondered how she’d react if he tossed her ass on the table and spread her out on it so he could dine on her. He resisted the compulsion only by reminding himself she required time to adjust.

  “I don’t receive all your thoughts, just most. You all but shut down in the bed last night. When our dicks were inside you”—she gasped and shot a glance at Cook, but Lyx kept right on talking—“if not for Troz I wouldn’t have had a clue what you were feeling. However….” He unhooked her death grip from her mug and placed her hand palm side up on the table. Using his purple talon, he traced the lines in her hand with the tip. “There are a great many things I ignore that I don’t like you thinking. Such as moments ago with Troz you were contemplating if you could use the new knowledge of your witchcraft for yours and Tiara’s escape.” His nail pierced her skin.

  She whimpered as Lyx drew her palm to his mouth and flicked the blood away with the tip of his tongue.

  Troz had known she contemplated fleeing. He didn’t need to be a mind reader to know that. Her expressive features detailed every one of her thoughts.

  Lyx tugged her nearer to him with a lock of hair. “I disliked your thoughts in the tub earlier when you pondered how soon we’d dispose of you and get a new concubine.”

  Troz wondered how she could entertain such a ridiculous notion. As their first concubine, they’d cherish her more than any other lover they’d ever had. They’d waited for her for a long time, which meant she was special to them, and they wouldn’t be discarding her like a child would when it tired of a new toy.

  Troz slammed his fist on the table, and she jumped. “Never,” he vowed.

  Leaping to his feet as Lyx released his hold on her hair, Troz yanked her out of her seat, palmed her hips, and sat her on the table. Without gentling her, Troz shoved her thighs wide and stepped between them, pulling her flush against him. He placed a hand on her low back to hold her in place. Troz wrapped her hair around his fist and jerked her head back. Their gazes crashed and held. Her breathing double-timed and from his periphery, Troz could make out the rapid rise and fall of her breasts.

  “You will remain with us forever. Learn to accept that, Sanja. The sooner the better for us all.” Troz kept his voice deceptively calm as fury at the idea of her misgivings swept through him.

  “If our roles were reversed, could you accept your situation?” That wasn’t what Troz had expected from her.

  “No.” He’d fight to the death before he’d remain anyone’s captive. “You’re human, and your race adapts easier.” He rubbed her scalp where it must sting from his abuse. “No more fighting. I loathe quarreling with you, especially since you were bought for fucking.”

  She flinched as if he’d struck her.

  “Now…your clothes, they send the wrong impression.”

  “Like she doesn’t wish to be ravished.” The scrape of Lyx’s chair resounded in the room.

  “Please not here.” Her gaze flitted to his before venturing to his spouse. “The cook…is present.”

  “We’re not going to fuck you in front of Cook, my sex-pet.” Lyx ran his fingers up her bare arms.

  She sent a questioning glance at Troz.

  “Slaves don’t wear attire. Yours must go.”

  Sanja swallowed hard. “But the cook—”

  “Is probably surprised you’re wearing them,” Lyx interrupted her. “Isn’t that right, Cook?”

  “Yes, my lords,” came her complacent reply, along with the scrape and ting of cookware.

  A charming blush put color in Sanja’s cheeks. “I believe I’d rather be punished.”

  The waver in her voice suggested she probably wouldn’t. Troz enlightened her on the semantics of discipline. “Even if we dole out justice, Sanja, it doesn’t release you from the command you disobeyed.”

  “Means Cook would watch me redden your backside. Then you’d be sitting on a burning ass and still complying with our dictates.” Lyx slid the ends of her hair across his dark purple lips, his gaze honed on her mouth and his eyes overbright as if he visualed the act. She glared at his lover, and a slow smile spread across the other man’s lips. “You’re welcome to hate us, my sex-pet. I’m inclined to believe it’s a childish thought when your body betrays your true emotions.”

  “If I had control of my body, it’d say an entirely different thing.”

  Troz adored the fire in her eyes. She might fear them, but when pushed, she instinctively fought back. “It comes down to choices, Sanja.”

  She met his gaze with defiance shining from her green eyes.

  “The clothes are willingly removed or one of us will discipline you and still remove your clothing.”

  Her bottom lip trembled.

  “Cry and I will redden your ass either way.” Lyx’s fingers pinched around the locks of hair he grasped.

  “My mother used to tell me that, you arrogant bastard!”

  “That put the fire back in your eyes.” A devilish grin hit his husband’s lips. “You’ll like my spankings much better. I’ll make sure you’re wet by the end of it and ripe for a fucking.” At Lyx’s promise, her eyes dilated, but Troz couldn’t decide if it was in anger or eagerness. “I should demonstrate just for the name-calling.”

  “So you don’t have to read my thoughts, I hate you, Lyx.”

  Troz knew that vow to be untrue, but he didn’t call her out on her lie.

  “Hate everything you two are forcing on me.”

  “Such a pretty, little liar.” Lyx tugged on her hair. “Don’t lie to me again.”

  “I can’t lie to you, remember? It was forbidden by my obnoxious masters.”

  Troz couldn’t understand how her defiance came across as sexy when normally it’d irritate the fuck out of him.

  “Careful, sex-pet, tread carefully.” At Lyx’s caveat, she notched her chin at a mutinous angle, and narrowed her eyes to mere slits. She glowered at him as Lyx went on. “There’s a fine line between lie and truth with that particular charge of yours. You’ve used your entire allotment of liberties today. First with Tiara, the bastard insult, and now the mistruths, don’t push me further.”

  She turned away from the unspoken promise in his eyes.

  “What’s your choice, Sanja?” Troz hoped by giving her consequences it would ease her into her new lifestyle, but he couldn’t decide if they aided or harmed that outcome. Either way she must submit to them and fast because their elevated position couldn’t allow disobedi
ence in a public setting without a very public punishment. That type of chastisement would require a harsher setdown than they would give her in private. Troz thought he knew her well enough that a communal reprimand wouldn’t go over well at all.

  She bit her bottom lip as she pondered his question. “What’s your punishment?”

  “To be revealed when need be.” Because he held no disillusions he’d eventually have to discipline her. She was too obstinate for any other conclusion.

  “I s-suppose the”—she cleared her throat—“cl-clothes.”

  “Lift your arms.” She complied with his instruction. He hooked his fingers beneath the fabric just below her breasts and jerked it upward and off. After tossing the garment aside, he stepped back, motioning for her to depart the table.

  A tear spilled over and glided down her cheek as she pushed off. Before she could remove the teardrop with a swipe of her fingertips, Lyx caught her hand and licked the salty wetness away.

  “Blood and tears, we should do this again. Soon.” Lyx kissed Sanja.

  Her jaw remained locked, but with his hands on her hips he could feel her tremble beneath his palms. Lyx’s lashes flicked upward, and anger blazed from his gaze. Denying him entrance into her mouth was a wrong move.

  Discipline wouldn’t be good the second day into their relationship, so Troz demanded, “Open to him, Sanja. That’s an order.”

  Her fingers curled into her palms, and her knuckles whitened, but her jaw relaxed and Lyx tightened his grip on her as he claimed her mouth. “Don’t deny”—another wet kiss—“me entrance”—one more—“again.”

  Troz jerked the yellow pantaloons down her body. The pungent scent of her arousal was strong and as desperate as he was to bury his face between her thighs, he defied the temptation. Waiting would heighten his arousal. “You may sit whenever Lyx is finished.” If he kissed her, he would end up fucking her in front of Cook.

  ERICA’S INSIDES QUIVERED, and she ached between her legs. Lyx’s kisses coupled with Troz’s errant touches as he removed her clothing did a number on her body. Finally the demon released her mouth and assisted her into her seat. A moment later the cook offered a distraction by placing food-laden dishware on the table. Only the grits were identifiable. Troz mounded a plate with fare and sat the cookware in front of her.

  She couldn’t eat that much of anything, and unable to identify most of it, she couldn’t decide which one to taste-test first.

  “What is this?” She flicked the tines of her fork through the crumbles that could’ve passed for scrambled eggs if not for their color.

  “Bacon, eggs and grits.” Troz made his own plate.

  “I recognize the grits, but red eggs and white bacon?”

  “They taste like your version.” As he watched her, Lyx dove into his chow.

  “I think I’ll just stick with the grits.”

  “Sanja, you are wearing on my patience. Try the goddamn food.”

  Her gaze whiplashed to Troz’s. Mutiny flashed through her brain. She’d never been good at taking orders, not even from her mother.

  Disregarding her rebellious body language, Troz went on. “You cannot be this bullheaded. I vow I’ll try to fuck it out of you after the meal.”

  Not what I need. I have so gotta find a way out of here before they tear down all my resistance. Because the idea of either of them inside her made her pussy throb with eager anticipation. She didn’t want that. Couldn’t have that.

  She forked red eggs into her mouth and sent him a happy now glare.

  Okay, Lyx is right, they do taste just like earthly eggs.

  “I’m still fucking you. It’s your choice if it’s your ass, cunt, or mouth. Think on that while you dine. I’ll expect to hear your decision afterward.”

  Erica gaped at Troz. Gawd! The crassness of his words…but why’d the declaration make her wet?

  She wanted no part of him inside her, and even as she thought that, she knew it was technically untrue. The more they took her, the less likelihood she’d be able to return home. And her mother would come. Of that she was certain. Mostly certain anyway. The average human might not be able to exit Baal without suffering death, but Sybil would find a way to free them. She was that damn powerful.

  “Not that strong, Sanja.”

  She shot Lyx a lethal glare. That he could steal her thoughts irritated her. “I was free yesterday. You cannot expect me to transition into your world overnight. I’d ask for a little bit of patience from both of you.”

  “We’ll try.” Troz chucked her a sardonic smile. “We’re not known for our patience.”

  “Neither are we accustomed to having our demands contradicted.” Lyx offered her an apologetic wink.

  Maybe now was a good time to remind them of the thirteen information she’d asked about. “Back to that thirteen stuff?”

  Troz sent the other demon a startled glance.

  So, he didn’t know she’d been given that info. Interesting.

  Lyx shrugged at Troz’s questioning look.

  “What exactly does thirteen imply?”

  “The Thirteen,” Lyx corrected like the verbiage meant a difference to her. It obviously did to them.

  “Later.” Troz’s voice was clipped indicating there’d be no getting around his tone. “I’d rather know about you.”

  “Me?” That question surprised her. “As of yesterday, I started over as a sex slave to two overbearing goons who think they’re some sort of god in this universe. They took my virginity every way imaginable without asking if it was okay. Defined as rape where I come from.”

  “Don’t get cheeky, my sex-pet.” Lyx sounded amused, but she couldn’t tell from his blank expression if he were or not.

  Pushed to her limits of being threatened, even subtly, she rashly said, “You know what, Lyx, let’s just get this over with. How would you prefer I present my ass to you?”

  He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Don’t tempt me.”

  She glared at him, daring him to lay his palm to her backside.

  “Would you cry for me?”

  “Most likely, yes.”

  Lyx pushed his plate aside. “Beg and scream for me to stop?”

  How hard did he plan on hitting her? “Probably. I didn’t lie when I said I tolerate pain poorly. Sybil called me a drama queen.”

  “Hmm….”

  What did that mean? By his expression, she couldn’t glean even a cursory insinuation.

  Nervous over Lyx’s silence and stare, she slid a glance at Troz to gauge his mood. He watched her just as closely as Lyx. She focused on her breakfast. Hunger forgotten, she mixed the eggs with the grits.

  “Tell us about your life before us,” Troz’s tone was mild, as if she hadn’t just blown up at them. “Eat while we converse.”

  She mixed the scrambled eggs with the grits. Feeling robotic, she picked up the bacon and chewed, but tasted nothing. On the tip of her tongue was to remind him they wanted her to forget her former life. Hence the name change. Not brave enough to defy them again—she suspected she was at the edge of their limited patience—she asked, “What do you wish to know?”

  “I want to know about these men that ridiculed you and made bets about your virginity.” Lyx stood, and refilled her coffee mug.

  She couldn’t help it, but hard as she tried to resist, his thoughtfulness tweaked her heart.

  “Why wasn’t I told of this?” Troz set his fork on his plate and glared at Lyx.

  “It’s nothing.” At their silence, she sent them both a cautious peek. “Really. I lived in a small town. People thought my mom was crazy.” She was over-the-top eccentric, but her accuracy with witchcraft frightened people. That made her and Sybil a target of derision. Her mother never understood the ramifications of her actions, but then she’d never been on the receiving end of the emotion. Folks were too afraid of Sybil, so they’d focused their ridicule on Erica instead.

  “Explain.” Lyx placed her cup on the table in front of her, the brew m
ixed just the way she liked it.

  “In high school the football team made bets on who would have sex with me first.” She’d almost given up her virginity to one of the receivers on the team until she’d overheard him bragging with his buddies how he planned to ‘pop her cherry’ that weekend. They’d even made plans to videotape the incident and post it on ViewTube. Erica shrugged as if it hadn’t devastated her teenage psyche and gone a long way in tearing down her fragile self-esteem. “Obviously they all lost the bet.” She munched on the bacon that tasted just like earthly bacon, even if it was funny looking.

  “Give me names, and I’ll see that they’re punished.”

  Her attention whiplashed to Troz. “Jesus Christ, no.”

  “Those boys need to be taught a lesson.” Over the rim of his mug, he held her stare. “You will give me names.”

  The gleam in his eyes said he’d enjoy doling out retribution. She couldn’t be party to that. “Beat me, whip me, do whatever the fuck you’re going to do, but I will not give you names of innocent men.”

  “They’re not innocent.”

  “No.” She set her jaw and returned his stare.

  Holding her glower, his fingertips whitened on the mug. “I could command you to obey me.”

  “You could.” She hoped he didn’t.

  After a long moment, Troz settled his coffee cup on the table. “Very well, we’ll revisit this conversation later.”

  She shivered over what that meant, but held her tongue.

  “How long have you and Tiara been friends?”

  “Since eighth grade, so since we were twelve. I don’t know why she stuck around. She was teased about our friendship, but she always defended me to her disadvantage.”

  “That elevates her in my regard. Are you finished eating?” Lyx nodded to her plate where she continued to mix the food.