Dragonfae & The Soul Catcher

by H. C. Brown

  His eyebrow arched above dark fathomless eyes, his sheet of raven hair rippling down his back as he turned to face her.

  “You know what I want, Lilith.”

  His whispered words sent a shiver down her spine, because she knew exactly what he wanted. That’s why she was there in the first place. She flicked her unbound locks over her shoulder and moved towards him. Her heart thudded harder in her chest as he watched her, his eyes following every whispery move she made, the subtle tilt of her lips, the tendril that curled at her breast, her sweaty palm that smoothed its way down her leathers.

  She stopped before him, unable to move closer even if she wanted to. And gods be damned she did. Her body throbbed with need for him, but she ignored the dull ache. She didn’t belong in Hell any more than that young soldier did and they both knew it.

  “I can’t stay here, Lucifer. I belong to Odin now.”

  She knew that was the last thing she should have said when his eyes narrowed to dangerous slits and angry fire leapt in his crimson gaze. “Then that soul stays with me.”

  He sidestepped her and she whipped around to face him. “If you do this you will create a war between Valhalla and Hell. Don’t do this. It’s me you want—”

  “Then give yourself freely and spare all the lives that would be wasted in a bloody war.”

  She glared at him. He was a bastard. A selfish, spoilt bastard used to getting anything and everything he wanted. How wrong she’d been about him.

  “You’re despicable, completely without feeling.” She turned from him. “I can’t believe I was so wrong, that I made such a fool of myself for you. I would have been better off with Samael or Odin—anyone else but you. At least—”

  He moved so quickly and quietly that she didn’t know what was happening until he had her pinned against the wall. She gasped for air, his hard body pressed against hers, forcing the air from her lungs. He held her trapped, her wrists clasped in his hands.

  He was wild and dangerous, his eyes glowed a fiery red, and her body heated as the anger inside him radiated outward, warming everything that touched him. She rarely saw his incisors—he rarely showed enough emotion for them to lengthen—but this time he was enraged, his sharp fangs exploding from the roof of his mouth.

  In that moment, he was The Devil, the King of the Damned, and she should have been frightened, but her traitorous body recognised its mate and knew he would never hurt her. Her pussy grew hot and wet, the slick folds of her sex swollen with need. Her own incisors lengthened, and she knew her eyes glowed when everything around her turned red, her breathing short and choppy as she struggled for air.

  She gasped when he ripped her leather bodice from her, freeing her heavy breasts. He could have removed it with his mind, but he wanted to make a statement, a bold one, that she was his, his to do with what he pleased.

  “At least what, Lilith?” He asked against the crook of her neck, his warm breath stroking her sensitive skin. She didn’t know what he was asking, what he was talking about. It was hard to focus with his hard cock digging into her belly.

  “At least Samael or Odin, or whoever would have what? Had you married my cousin, or my nemesis, given yourself to one of those idiots, they would have…what?” He punctuated each word, and she knew she was in dangerous territory. Samael and Lucifer competed over everything, including her, but it was harmless. Yet Odin and Lucifer…they were different. They genuinely couldn’t stand each other. But when it came down to it, there had never been a true contest. No man, demon, or god compared to Lucifer. She’d always been drawn to the brooding prince, even more so after the tender way in which he’d ushered her into womanhood. Samael was handsome and flirtatious, Odin gentle and kind, but there was something dark and mysterious about Lucifer, something which drew a woman in with the promise of more. But there wasn’t more. The stoic prince was incapable of baring his heart, his soul, which was why she’d left.

  “They would have nothing.” Defeat weakened her resolve and she pushed at his broad chest, but when he wouldn’t budge, her anger redoubled. “Had I married anyone else, he would have probably left me alone every night while he fucked other women, making me feel unwanted and unloved. Had I married someone else, he probably would have treated me just as you did.”

  He leant back so that he could meet her gaze, his eyes wide as he shook his head. “I never slept with other women—”

  “How would I know that? You never came to my bed—”

  “That’s because…because…” He roared out his frustrations and she thought he would hit something, but instead he lifted her into his arms, dropping her unceremoniously onto his bed.

  He followed her down, covering her body with his, and she began to panic.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I released that soul the moment you walked in here. She’s probably in Valhalla as we speak.” He cupped her cheek, his hand surprisingly tender given the anger that still radiated from him. “And in exchange for that soul, you will stay in her place.”

  She’d known all along he would only let the soldier go in exchange for her. Even though she knew it was futile, she opened her mouth to protest, but never got out so much as a sound when he covered her lips with his, his mouth capturing hers in a darkly possessive kiss. Liquid fire exploded inside her belly, storming its way through her entire body, inflaming her skin. She writhed beneath him, her thighs falling apart as if welcoming him home. She was ashamed of how eagerly she desired him, how needy her body was for him, even as it betrayed her wounded heart.

  Her leather pants were ripped from her in a single motion, leaving her completely open to him, completely vulnerable. He released his hold on her wrists, and she encircled him with her arms, her hands roaming over his chiselled back, his muscles flexing beneath her fingertips.

  He traced a pathway of kisses the length of her body, making his way down to the tips of her toes before once again settling at her breasts. She groaned out his name, her back arching when he captured a hardened bud between his lips, sucking on the sensitive flesh. A wave of pleasure roared through her, consuming her, and her body began to shudder with need.

  Since their separation, she’d lain with other men, but no one, demon or god, had the power to make her feel the sensations Lucifer aroused within her.

  Her legs widened, begging him to ease himself between them and feast on the treasure that beckoned him. He didn’t smile or wink, but there was an impish twinkle in his eyes as he slid down her body, dallying for just a moment at her belly button. He swirled his tongue in the small indention where a ruby jewel pierced her flesh, drawing a sharp gasp from her lips, before easing his way between her parted thighs, his warm breath fanning out across her shaved mound. He slid his forked tongue between the moist folds of her pussy, driving it deep into her pulsing cunt.

  “Luke,” she cried out, her hands gripping his hair, using the nickname only she called him by. Sticky, wet heat rushed from her channel, flooding his mouth as he ate her out. It had been so long since she’d known pleasure like this and she trembled beneath him. Flames of desire ignited at the centre of her core, roaring like a wildfire throughout her entire body.

  She gripped the back of his head, her nails digging deep, as she jerked her hips off the bed, grinding her dripping cunt against his hot mouth. He moaned against her pussy, sending tiny vibrations skating across her sensitive skin.

  “You love it when I eat your pussy. Tell me no one can eat your pussy like your husband can.” He whispered against her sex before diving in again.

  She cried out, the truth of his erotic words setting off a firestorm inside her, at the same time he crooked his tongue against her G-spot. He triggered an explosion deep within her, and she screamed out his name, her orgasm hitting her so hard and fast that she struggled to gather her breath. She gasped for air, her body twisting beneath him as she shuddered with the force of her climax.

  He slid up the length of her body, even as tremors rocked her. Settling his lips a
gainst hers, he kissed her deeply, a sweet kiss that was both tender and erotic as she tasted the essence of herself on his tongue.

  He lifted his head, his hand caressing her cheek. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered against her lips, and she stilled, her eyes roaming over his face. It was blank and impassive, the unemotional mask she’d come to expect from him. Whether he was lying or not, she couldn’t tell, although she figured he was. He was The Devil—that’s just what he did.

  She wrenched her gaze away and closed her eyes, unable to stare into his expressionless face when her heart was bursting with emotion. She buried her face against the crook of his neck, her body enveloping him. The sexual energy still radiating from him was overwhelming, sweeping her up into its storm, until she was once again shivering with need. Passion—they’d always shared that, an uncontrollable, undeniable passion. It was love they couldn’t seem to manage.

  He stilled, and with a heavy sigh rolled off of her. She watched as he stood, her gaze transfixed by the tattoo of a dark angel, whose black wings stretched across his back. That’s what he was—a dark angel, and at one time he’d been her dark angel. He stared out of his window, presumably at the lake of fire before him, and the souls that were now trapped in his kingdom for eternity.

  “What is it?” She sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest. “Why’d you stop?”

  He turned to face her, and for a moment she swore she glimpsed regret in his onyx eyes, but she couldn’t be sure, the emotion was so fleeting.

  He didn’t say a word as he crossed the room and reached for his robe. Her anger returned, and with it, her memories of their past. He always shut her out, pushed her away. When he didn’t want to talk, he simply ignored her. She stood and blocked his path when he would have walked out.

  Her eyes blazed with fire, her anger consuming her. The way he treated her, one would think she was one of his playthings. She drew up to her full height, her gaze clashing with his. But she wasn’t some cheap, meaningless fuck. She was his wife.

  “You brought me back, trapped me here, and now you’re leaving? How the hell are we supposed to make a baby if you don’t touch me?” She hated the shrill sound of her voice, but she couldn’t help it. She hadn’t asked to come back. He’d dragged her there because he needed an heir. And it was only the promise of a child that made her reconsider enduring their loveless marriage another time around.

  His face was hard, feral anger swirling in the depths of his gaze, but with it also brewed a deep sadness. “I didn’t realise we were in such a hurry. Or does the thought of my touch so repulse you that you would get this over and done with as soon as possible?” he asked quietly, which took her aback, easing the angry storm inside her. He masked the flicker of pain quickly, and she did well in keeping her own face expressionless, but there was no denying what she’d seen.

  Lucifer never showed emotion, never gave any hint that she even had the power to penetrate his seemingly impenetrable armour, so she was surprised by the honest pain he’d revealed in his gaze—even if it was fleeting. She’d thought she hardened her heart to him, so she was shocked by the sliver of pain that pierced her. Even now, after everything they’d done to each other, she still didn’t want to hurt him; she didn’t derive any pleasure in making him suffer. Despite what he believed, she never had. This time when he stepped around her, she let him go.

  She slumped down on the bed as the door slammed shut. What were they doing? She’d known all along this wouldn’t work—that having a child together was a huge mistake. That’s why she’d refused to return, why she’d told him to kiss her ass and have an heir with one of his playthings. There was just too much anger and bitterness between them, so much pain, and when they were together, they didn’t know how to do anything but hurt each other. They’d existed like this for so long she almost couldn’t believe there’d been a time when they’d loved each other with such fierce passion that she’d given her heart and soul to him.

  * * * *

  “Lilith—the little queen of demons.”

  She turned at the sound of the deep, husky voice slurring her name, her lips twisting into a frown.

  “Lucifer.” Her eyes narrowed to slits, taking in his flushed cheeks and unfocused gaze. “You’re drunk.”

  “Not so drunk that I can’t take you.” She frowned at his slight stumble towards her, his hand reaching out to curl a single lock of her hair around his finger. She stared into his handsome face, drowning in his piercing obsidian eyes. She gasped when he leant into her, the spicy scent of him mixed with wine filling her lungs. Her nipples hardened and the curious warmth between her thighs which always accompanied a stirring in her belly whenever he was near, made her shiver.

  She wasn’t sure when it had happened. She’d known him since she was a child, but one day she’d looked up and she’d simply noticed him. Not as Lucifer, the boy who tormented her, made fun of her, and always pulled her hair, but as a man, a handsome one, who stirred something dark and primitive within her whenever their eyes met.

  She’d wanted him to be her first, had purposely planted herself in his way so that when the Festival of Anat began, and they released the young males to seek out an eligible virgin, he’d have no choice but to bed her—but he was useless now. He could barely stand up straight.

  “Damn it, Lucifer. You’ve gone and fucked everything up!”

  His eyes darkened to two black lumps of coal, crimson eclipsing his pupils, and she let out a yelp when he dragged her up against his hard frame.

  “What? Were you expecting someone else?”

  His words sounded surprisingly clear, and her eyes widened at the tumultuous storm brewing in his gaze. She bit her tongue. She’d be dammed if she’d admit the truth—that she’d hid from three others while she’d waited patiently for him to stumble along. But he didn’t need to know that. He was arrogant enough.

  Her heart stuttered in her chest as he traced her parted lips with his finger, a small sigh escaping her when he dipped it inside her mouth. Wetness pooled between her legs, her breasts growing heavy with desire.

  “Let me guess—you were waiting for Samael.”

  She started to shake her head, but he settled his face at the crook of her neck, his tongue sweeping across her skin, causing a smattering of goose bumps to break out in its wake.

  “Doesn’t matter who you were waiting for, because I got to you first, and you’re all mine now.”

  His hands were beneath her skirts, his palms skimming across her smooth thighs. When he touched the bare skin of her buttocks, he sucked in a breath, a harsh groan spilling from his lips. “You’re such a naughty little demon, Lilith. No panties?”

  She was barely conscious of him lowering her to the ground. He had purposely dragged them into the shadows, hidden within the darkness of the forest, where they would not be seen, where her cries of pleasure could not be heard.

  He took his time removing her clothes, his hands shaking slightly as they roamed over her bare skin. He was probably a bit unsteady because he was drunk, she thought, although the way he held back, gently coaxing her desire, she would say he was still very much in control of himself.

  She watched in rapt fascination at him removing his shirt then his breeches, her fingers finding a mind of their own as they traced the bulging muscles of his chest. She stilled at the dark arrow of hair that dipped low, her eyes snapping to his face when he sucked in a breath.

  “Don’t stop.” His voice was hoarse and thick and she held his gaze, letting her hand travel lower.

  “Look at him. Look at what you do to me.” He bit out and her cheeks heated as she finally let her eyes settle on the thick, engorged length of his cock. She curled her hand around him, pumping gently, watching his face twist in pleasurable agony while he stared at her through narrowed lids.

  The expression on his face, the intensity of his gaze caused something deep inside her to snap and she released a low moan, a throbbing ache settling between her legs.

  “You
want him inside you, don’t you?” She’d never felt this way before, this need to be filled, to be claimed. When his body shifted, his hips settling between her thighs, the tip of him poised at her wet opening, a puzzle piece seemed to fall into place. It was as if they fit together.

  He hooked his arms beneath her thighs, holding her open, his eyes trained on her. The tender look on his face pierced her heart. He was always so serious, so stoic, but tonight he was gentle, loving even.

  “It’s going to hurt,” he whispered, dipping his head. “But only for a moment.” He took possession of her lips at the same time he took possession of her body. He swallowed up her painful cry as he tore through her flesh, stretching her, filling her completely. He was still above her, his body corded with tension.

  He released her lips, his expression intense. “Are you okay?”

  She drew in a breath, noticing for the first time that she was. Her body clenched around him, and he let out a lewd curse, his fingers digging into her thighs.

  “Lilith,” he rasped out and began to move inside her, igniting a fire deep within her, setting off an explosion of pleasure she’d never experienced before.

  Lucifer didn’t really care for the notion of heaven, after all he was The Devil, but the sound of Lilith coming on his cock was the sweetest thing he’d ever heard, her wet heat drenching him, as close to heaven as he’d ever get.

  She was his. He’d known it from the moment she’d turned those golden eyes on him and smiled just before she’d set off running. She’d dared him to chase her, hunt her, although her little dare hadn’t been necessary. He’d been determined to claim her all along.

  He rode her sweet body, her cunt gripping him so tightly that he fought the urge to explode in her tight, little channel. He pounded inside her on the edge of desperation, struggling to be gentle, to be tender, but her throaty moans of pleasure set his body aflame, demanding that he brand her, mark her as his.

  He gripped her tighter, trying to pin her hips beneath them when she would have surged upward to thrust her pussy on his cock. She may have been inexperienced, but she was certainly no innocent. Her perfect breasts, her lush hips—she’d been made for sex, made for him. And she moved her body against him like a woman who’d been born solely to fuck, to please.