by Jade Bones
Copyright © 2020 by Jade Bones
All rights reserved.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions or locales is completely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Lock & Portal is a paranormal romance with graphic descriptions of intimacy and potentially triggering sexual situations. Intended for mature readers.
Lock & Portal
I hit the jackpot on Summoning Day and got bonded to a joy demon, so I should be on top of the world, right? Then someone please explain to me why I’m at the bottom of this pit in hell.
Daerek was supposed to be my saving grace. My lucky charm. He’s a demon who feeds on happiness, so he wants nothing more than to bring me joy… what more could a girl want?
Except that means I can’t trust him, because everything he does is a lie to sate his own hunger.
But even stuck down here, hunting a key that keeps disappearing with a demon who only pretends to care about me… there’s no one I’d rather be trapped with. Because sometimes when he looks at me, I forget it’s all fake.
Sometimes I want to forget.
Man, joy demons are the worst.
Warning: Lock & Portal is a paranormal romance with graphic descriptions of intimacy and potentially triggering sexual situations. Intended for mature readers.
Lock & Portal
Jade Bones
Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Craving Violet and Alaztair’s story?
About the Author
One
Stacey
Nobody told me having a joy demon would be the absolute pits.
It’s like, you’re born into this, right? And that means years and years of study and propaganda that insists the holy grail of unholy alliances is a joy demon. Who doesn’t want someone invested in your every happiness? Bringing you endless cups of coffee, chocolate boxes, first dibs concert tickets. Seriously, who wouldn’t want that?
Me. I don’t want that.
I thought I did, once. The first six months with Daerek were… well, let’s call it the honeymoon period. Being doted on every day really does wonders for your self-esteem. Until you realize it’s a lie. When I caught him feeding on my joy the first time, it was a shock I couldn’t come back from. Proper feeding, I mean—not the neat little synthesis that happens in the moment, with magic building off magic. I’m talking about the real stuff. The way demons replenish their magic as they rest, the way they use a witch’s energy to grow their power and their witch’s in turn.
You could be forgiven for thinking the pleasure on his face when he feeds has something to do with me.
It doesn’t.
If he could, Daerek would have nothing to do with me. I’m not sure he likes anything about me at all, because it’s so obvious that my happiness—and his investment in it—isn’t about me… it’s about the way he looks in that moment. It’s about his magic, and what he needs to do to get it.
And now he’s hiding something. He’s been dodging me for days, and I can’t take it any longer. What if he’s trying to sever our bond and find a witch he actually likes? I’m over being lied to, always being the last to know. I’m over having a joy demon that doesn’t give a shit.
I creep down the corridor towards the abandoned classroom at the back of the West Wing. No one goes down here, and I can sense it’s where Daerek’s hiding out. He thinks I can’t find him, because witches aren’t as attuned to their demons as demons are to us, but come on, I’m not an idiot.
A strange sound emerges from behind the closed door. A flurry of air and movement—controlled, precise. I frown, unable to determine what on earth could create that noise.
But I don’t need to dither about it—I just need to do. Steeling myself for whatever I’m about to find, I kick the door in.
It doesn’t budge, because I’m ninety pounds soaking wet and, despite all my pep talks, apparently one hundred percent an idiot.
I turn the handle and burst inside.
Something flashes. A glint of silver—two glints. But they’re gone before I can identify them, since I gave myself away so terribly, and all that’s left is Daerek standing in the middle of the room. Shirtless. Chest heaving and a sheen of sweat coating his skin.
Oh, boy.
Maybe I’d have found a way to walk away from him if I really wanted to, but it’s hard to want to leave someone who looks like they could hold you effortlessly against a wall and fuck you hard and fast without breaking a sweat. Even if that thought is ridiculous and never going to happen and also probably illegal.
They’d kick me right out if I admitted that one… demons and witches? It’s got to be in the rulebook somewhere. It’s probably the whole rulebook.
“Stacey?” Daerek’s eyebrow raises, and something complicated crosses his face. The edge of violence in his eyes vanishes without a trace. His jaw clenches, nostrils flaring as he regards my intrusion, and then—as always—I watch him swallow it down. “Do you need something?”
I grit my teeth, rage simmering in my blood. It’s always fucking like this. “Just wondering when you’re going to feed,” I lie, silently cursing my ineptitude. I was so close to catching him at whatever he’s doing; I’ll have to try again later. “It’s late. I want to go to bed.”
The poorly concealed anger morphs into confusion. “Then go to bed. I’ll feed while you sleep.” He walks towards me, coming to a halt barely a foot away, and I do a terrible job of acting unbothered by all that exposed skin and rippling muscle. “You won’t even know I’m there,” he adds, something vicious glinting in his expression.
“You may as well do it now,” I say, straightening my stance and acting as though that’s why I came here. “I’ll wait.”
Daerek studies me, incredulity hovering in every word he doesn’t say. Finally he shrugs and drops back onto the table behind him, picking up his abandoned black henley and putting it on, slow and unhurried. “Fine,” he drawls, like it doesn’t matter. “Give me a minute.”
He reclines backwards, one leg propped and his hands clasped lightly over his stomach, and closes his eyes. The familiar steady pulse of blue energy appears above him, a thin line trailing from it to me.
I’ve been working on seeing magic energy fields for months, and this is one of the strongest I’ve seen. Daerek is one of the strongest demons I’ve seen, even if he does look like a trust fund baby playing at a goth phase with his tight black jeans and—when he isn’t half naked—sweaters.
A trust fund baby that grew up on a fucking bench press. He’s not, like, swol, but he’s lithe and he likes to work out half naked… I spend most of my time cross-eyed and pissed off at the unfairness of it all.
If incubi weren’t a myth, I’d almost say he was one, because the way I want him is crazy. But then, if he were an incubus, my dreams would be a whole lot easier to deal with, since that’s what they do—turn dreams into reality. It’s what they feed on, what they desire.
One green eye cracks open, staring at me through a fringe of brown hair—dark brown,
from a bottle. Because the fact that demons shop at Ulta is one of the many unexpected, unwanted things I’ve learned at Dremen Academy.
“You’re doing it again,” he murmurs.
“Breathing? Sorry, I’ll try to tone it back a notch.”
“Stewing,” he corrects in that quiet way he has—the one that simultaneously makes my blood boil because it’s just so arrogant… and makes me flush in an entirely different way all together. “I can’t focus if you keep this up.” The other eye opens, leaving me with a piercing green gaze directed at me and me alone. He makes a thoughtful face, shrugging one shoulder and closing his eyes again. “I suppose there’ll be no point in focusing if there’s no joy to consume. So… choice is yours.”
The jab, deliberate and obvious though it is, hurts as much as he intends it to. He’s never said it out loud, but we both know it’s my fault our bond is such hard work. In the end, being a joy demon is who he is—he can’t change that.
It’s my fault I care so much. My fault I wish…
Well, what does it matter what I wish?
God, I’m as bad as Violet, stressing over her weakass non-bond with Alaztair. The one we all pretend we don’t know failed on Summoning Day.
“I’m trying,” I grit out. “It’s not exactly a fun pastime for me, watching you get your rocks off like this.” Without me involved. “And isn’t that what this is all about? Me having fun?” I yawn deliberately.
The yawn is only half-fake. I haven’t been sleeping well lately. I keep hearing this weird, kind of sexy, female voice in my dreams telling me to wake up. It’s a bit hard to keep sleeping when some Dominatrix won’t let you.
Violet was jabbering on about weird dreams lately… maybe I should ask her what she meant. Though hers seemed to be about mangy old keys.
His eyes snap open, and something unreadable flashes in them. But he doesn’t lobby the insults back, doesn’t give me the satisfaction of letting us get right to the core of the problem. To actually have it out for real. Instead, he sits up and swings his legs over the side of the table, the brief glimpse of bare stomach I catch as his shirt rides up attracting far more of my attention than it should.
The blue energy darkens, fizzles, and disappears. A heavy weight settles in my chest, but I ignore it.
“I’ll let you get some sleep, then, love. You look tired.”
Every time he calls me love—and he calls me it often, privately, when no one is around—shivers dance across my skin. But the unnamed expression is still there, in his eyes. It’s an anger I can’t identify; all I know is it’s directed at me. Which means he lies in private just as much as he lies in public.
Who knows when his true emotions will emerge—and what they’ll be when they do?
“Fine,” I say, standing up and reaching for the door, ready to throw it open so I can feel like I got the last word, even if it’s more akin to a three-year-old stomping their candy into the ground.
I don’t make it. His hand catches mine mid-air before I even realize he’s made it off the table. My heart stutters in my throat as he spins me around and holds me against the door.
“One of these days, you’re going to have to actually let me bring you joy,” he mutters, voice low as his eyes scan my face. “Because we both know this isn’t working.”
“And you think this is the way to start, do you?” I throw at him.
His tone drops several notes, gaze roaming my face. “Maybe I’m not doing it right. Maybe you should tell me how to please you.” There’s an edge of anger to his voice that reveals the sarcasm behind the words. He isn’t asking me what I want; he’s reminding me that I keep fucking this up for both of us by not letting him in.
Except the problem is… it’s working. Not usually, but now. This. My heart races in my throat, and for once I can’t predict what Daerek is about to do because none of this is designed to make me happy. It’s designed to piss me off—a promise of the argument I’ve been craving for months.
That’s why I can believe it. After two long years of tension, I begin to relax around my demon.
And he notices. An incredulous expression crosses his face, thick dark eyebrows drawing together in disbelief.
“Stacey—” he begins and starts to back away.
I’m not having that, but before I can do something truly stupid—like stop him leaving—a sound like metal screeching against metal fills the room. I freeze, terror climbing in my throat as I search for the source. The warm press of Daerek’s body appears behind mine, and it’s more soothing than I ever want to admit when his hand hooks around my waist and he surveys the space for threats. The room begins to shake, mortar crumbling and falling to the ground.
“What’s happening?” I stutter, internally blaming the unsteadiness on the fact that the entire building is shaking.
Or is it only my dorm?
The thought is nauseating with a familiarity that makes no sense, and then the room spins to match, sending me to my knees. I latch hold of the first thing I can, realize it’s Daerek’s leg, and promptly wish for the floor to swallow me whole.
It doesn’t, but the world still oscillates around me, terrifying in its instability.
“What’s happening?” I struggle to remain upright, but the layers of my dress—fashionable at best, but apparently a fucking death trap at worst—twist beneath my sneakers. I gasp, the sensation rising like vomit. “Something’s draining me.”
This is nothing like the magic charge of Daerek’s feeding; this is violating. With a singular focus the invisible thing hooks its tendrils into my skin and sucks the life force from me.
At least, I assume that’s what’s happening, judging by the ten thousand ants marching through my bloodstream and the pale look of horror on Daerek’s face.
In any other situation, that look of horror would be extremely validating, but I can’t even enjoy it. Typical.
“Nothing’s touching you,” Daerek insists, turning the assurance into a lie by running his hands all across my shoulders and arms, checking for damage or parasites or whatever else he assumes is doing this.
Despite it all, I shiver at his touch, and the sense of recognition only grows. Whatever is happening, I’ve been here before. I’ve done this before. “This isn’t new,” I bite the words out through a mouth that is increasingly difficult to operate. “This is… old.”
Old. Old. Old. So fucking old.
“Steady on there, Dickens,” Daerek mutters, pulling me to my feet. “Don’t overload me with your entire vocabulary all at once.”
The spike of fear in my stomach ceases its exponential rise in favor of irritation. “Do you have anything important to add? Or did you just miss the sound of your own voice?”
Daerek scoffs, the sneer on his face a blessed moment of normality amongst this mess. “If you could stop being a princess for five seconds, maybe I’d have a chance to hear a voice other than yours.” He visibly swallows back more vitriol and closes his eyes, regaining composure. “Are you still being drained?”
“Like a keg at a frat party.” The world sways, white and woozy around the edges.
“Fuck,” Daerek hisses, except that’s impossible, because that would imply he’s worried about what happens to me.
Oh, right. If he loses me, he loses his magic. Of course.
“It’s getting worse,” I hiss out through gritted teeth.
I’m not sure how much longer I can stay awake. Something’s reaching into me, and I can’t fight an enemy I can’t see. If it keeps this up for a few minutes more, it’ll kill me.
I have the strangest sensation it already has.
Through the haze of pain, I sense Daerek feeding me his magic, giving as much as he can to me and repeating the same two words over and over.
Fight it. Fight it.
Right, because I need to be coached to fight something that’s killing me. Like some weak little princess who can’t do anything without daddy’s credit card. Fuck that. I won’t let some secretive, untru
stworthy joy demon tell me how to defeat this. I don’t need him.
Gathering all of my strength—rejecting Daerek’s—I try to push the parasitic tendrils from my body. They resist, sinking in deeper within my blood. It’s as though every vein inside me is lit up with hellfire.
It’s not happening like this. Not again.
Again?
Distracted by the confusing thought—almost seeming to belong to someone else, not me—I miss the moment everything shifts. But suddenly, I have the power. The fire within me twists, no longer burning me but fueling me.
I shove.
The room flares. Flame projects my shadow onto the wall, looming above us, and within the darkness I see something that looks like a key. Is Violet’s mad obsession rubbing off on me?
I don’t have time to question it because an incandescent portal opens up before us. Daerek’s grip on my wrist tightens, and out of the corner of my eye I see him glance at the window. For an electrifying second, I get a sense of what’s going through his mind, but that’s impossible—bonds don’t work that way.
Still, there’s a second where his magic builds, where I sense what he’s planning—a shattered window, a falling spell, me floating gently to safety while he takes the brunt of whatever this portal has to offer.
But it’s too late. The shimmering white light snaps like lightning, and suddenly it spreads to every corner.
Want to know how strange it is to be temporarily suspended between two planes, right before the fall?
Only half as weird as realizing you wish you could save your demon and let only yourself fall instead.
It doesn’t matter anyway, because the portal rumbles and we both drop. I scream, more from shock than fear, and Daerek’s arms clutch me tighter. A flicker of movement coupled with a jolting motion as we slow tells me he’s spread his wings. I’ve only seen them once—achingly beautiful, scaled in iridescent black—but I don’t get to enjoy them because as I turn my attention upwards, the white light creeps in, closer and closer until…