Lock & Portal (My Demon Bound Book 1)

by Jade Bones

  When I finally look at him, his eyes shine golden, like the key itself.

  “And here’s the hole,” he says, tapping the rock.

  “That’s what she said.”

  He rolls his eyes and stands, moving aside to reveal the gap where the stone once was. It’s no longer large enough to hold a brick; it’s small, only small enough for a key.

  I stick the key inside and twist.

  Eleven

  Daerek

  I’m not sure what Stacey sees, when the wall falls down around us, but for a second I see it. I see them.

  Words fail me, and I couldn’t describe it if I tried. They’re like… everything I’m meant to be, everything I’m born from. An entire palace full of the most decadent demons I’ve ever laid eyes on. If this is their prison…

  But then, even in prison, a succubus could manipulate their surroundings. There’s no limit to what they can do, their own power being the only thing capable of holding them.

  Until they called someone to them. Someone who could set them free.

  As mist sweeps across the scene, another face emerges: the demon king, malice twisting his features into a sight more terrible than a ghost. He reaches for us, snatching blindly into the air, but he’s too late.

  There’s a sense of something tearing, of a ribbon tying Stacey to the king suddenly ripping in two. I hear her cry out in agony, but it’s nothing compared to the fury and pain on the king’s face.

  Good. Let him suffer. I pray we’ve seen the last of him.

  The vision shatters, and when I open my eyes, I’m lying on the floor of an unfamiliar dorm.

  “Stacey?” a feminine voice asks tentatively.

  “If you don’t wake up in thirty seconds, I’m getting the ice bucket,” a far more delighted voice interrupts in a low, grating drawl.

  I grimace. “Alaztair.”

  “Good morning, sweetheart,” he murmurs to me, jet-black hair and piercing blue eyes appearing above my face. “Did you sleep well?”

  “Fuck off.”

  He cackles and draws back. I rise slowly to a sitting position, my head aching like it’s been whacked with an eighty pound mallet. A groan comes from behind me, and I turn to find Stacey clutching her head.

  Immediately, I’m on my feet, hands gently clasping hers. Not because I think it’s what she wants; because I want it.

  She smiles up at me, red strands of hair falling across her face as she struggles to sit. I sweep them away and see Alaztair and Violet share a knowing look.

  Alaztair smirks at me, but I just roll my eyes. “Like you can talk.”

  I almost feel bad when Violet blushes, but now’s not the time to be coy.

  “So,” I say, rolling my shoulders and massaging a sore point near my neck. “Succubi.”

  Neither of them look surprised, so I’m guessing we’re all on the same page there.

  “Did we free them?” Stacey asks, adjusting her skirts.

  It hits me with all the force of a bullet train when I remember her panties are still down in the pit with the ghosts. I swallow thickly, and when she catches my eye, I’m sure she’s thinking the same thing.

  Alaztair shakes her head and jerks his chin towards the wall behind us. “See for yourself,” he mutters. “Best we can figure, this means there’s at least three more.”

  Stacey and I turn around, and when we catch sight of the new decoration on the wall of Violet’s dorm, Stacey swears viciously. “Number four? Seriously? Please tell me this doesn’t mean I have to do that all over again three more times.”

  The wall is covered in a three foot etching of a gate, burned into the drywall like a brand. Carved upon the gate, in curving script, is a number four.

  “Logically, it will get harder each time,” Alaztair points out with a grin that doesn’t meet his eyes. “So, probably not, no. You’ll have to do something worse.”

  “No need to be an asshat about it,” Violet reprimands him, and to my astonishment I watch the demon back down, a secret smile passing between the two of them.

  I’d always thought Violet kind of indecisive until now… I guess mine isn’t the only witch to surprise me of late.

  “Anything else we should know before the next portal swallows us up?” Stacey asks, an edge to her voice.

  Her expression closes off, tight with exhaustion and a hint of anger. She’s approaching breaking point; I need to get my witch to privacy before she blows.

  “You know as much as we do,” Violet says. “I’ve been dreaming of keys for weeks, and it was only in the last few days that the voice spoke to me. Alaztair guessed it was succubi.”

  Somewhat disgruntled, I reluctantly nod towards Alaztair, credit where credit is due, but he meets my gaze with an unusual one of his own. Piercing intent, no smugness in sight.

  He didn’t guess. He knew.

  I nod almost imperceptibly, telling him the message is received. We’ll talk later, demon to demon.

  For now, I want my witch.

  I lean forward, letting my lips brush across Stacey’s ear as I whisper: “Time to go, love.”

  She shivers, but even that delicious sight comes second to something else; most of all I relish the way Alaztair and Violet witness me claim her. Violet has the decency to look away, but Alaztair holds my gaze. It almost looks like a challenge, but I see it for what it is: a new sort of bond. The four of us hold a secret within the Dremen Academy walls—we’re the only four who have truly taken our bond to its end.

  At least, I think we are.

  “Well, folks, it’s been a barrel of laughs,” Stacey says, chin held high. “But I for one need a bath. And a shower. And to burn everything I’m wearing. I’ll see you in a week.”

  Before she goes, Violet reaches out to grip her arm, fingers clasped loosely around Stacey’s wrist. Stacey freezes, and it occurs to me I’ve never seen her close to another student here.

  I’m not sure I’ve ever seen her with a friend.

  “I’m glad you’re safe,” Violet says in that earnest way she has. Like you can’t help but believe her.

  I’ve seen her angry, too. Mostly she’s quiet, but when she has something to say, she doesn’t hold back. I trust her more than most, and of all the people we could have been unwittingly paired with, I’m glad it’s her.

  Stacey startles, and for a moment I worry this will be where the bubble bursts and all the exhaustion and confusion comes crashing down. But then she squeezes Violet’s hand and smiles, and I can’t help standing a little straighter as her joyful energy feeds straight into mine.

  I open the door for her, nodding to the others, and we take our leave.

  Alaztair winks at me, and the door falls shut as his arm comes around Violet’s waist.

  Well, why not?

  I hook my arm over Stacey’s shoulder, my palm falling just above her breast, and pull her into a shady alcove.

  “What the—” she bursts out, looking over her shoulder at me in alarm. “Are you delusional? What if someone sees?”

  “There’s a window right here.” I nuzzle her neck, breathing in her scent and letting my teeth graze her skin. “Make yourself invisible. I’ll fly us up to your dorm.”

  “Holy—” She breaks off, and the next thing I know there’s only a weight within my arms to indicate her presence; the rest of her is gone.

  My grin is probably quite a sight to behold. I throw open the window and leap out into the darkness, letting my wings emerge as soon as I feel her breath escape her in a rush.

  Stacey twists in my arms, hands hooking around my neck. Her cut-off breaths huff against my cheek, anticipation coursing deliciously through our bond.

  She probably thinks I’m going to wait. I chuckle, slowing our climb to a lazy drift, and slide my fingers beneath her skirt.

  I don’t need to see her to feel her.

  She moans in my ear, already wet for me, and it’s a fortunate thing that her dorm is empty when we arrive, because there’s little that could stop me shovin
g her against the nearest wall the second we tumble through the window.

  Twelve

  Stacey

  Bless Violet and whatever stupid thought crossed her mind to make this a possibility.

  The world goes crashing down around me as Daerek holds me effortlessly against the door. My legs come up on either side of him, drawing him to me as his clever fingers stroke me in time with my shameless moans.

  Even after everything we’ve done, I can’t quite believe this is happening. My jaw falls open as he drops to his knees, shoving my skirts up around my waist.

  I quickly realize those moments in the pit were only a prelude—quick snatches of something that could be delivered far slower and with far more devotion. Daerek’s fingers slide inside me as his mouth works over my clit, setting a rhythm that has my breath coming in ragged pants no matter who could be behind the door.

  My roommate isn’t here. It doesn’t mean she won’t be soon; her nightly visits to her boyfriend’s dorm don’t always last the night.

  If she catches us, we’ll be kicked out.

  The risk only makes it better.

  But I want to taste him too. And since we’re back in my dorm, where I’ve imagined us a hundred times, I want my fantasies to come true. I want him holding me against the wall while he fucks into me slow and hard.

  A physical dream begins with an illusion.

  I twist my fingers in his hair and tug just enough to get his attention. He looks up at me, green eyes dark through the fringe of his brown hair, and comes to a slow stand.

  “You weren’t watching me,” he accuses, low and playful. “I like it when you look.”

  His fingers find my pussy again, relentless as he refuses to listen to what I’m trying to say. Instead, he coaxes tiny whimpers from me as I struggle for the words, gasps dropping from my lips as his long fingers stroke me with a lazy innocence that has me reeling.

  “Listen to me, you bastard,” I stutter, biting my lip as his fingers find the perfect spot to make me lose all coherent thought.

  “Didn’t catch that,” he purrs, grinning.

  There’s a pink flush along his neck, creeping below his shirt and onto his collar. I can’t see enough of it. I want to see it all, how much he wants this. But speech is impossible.

  So I tug at his shirt instead, pulling it up and over his head. He laughs, withdrawing just far enough to rip off his henley and throw it behind him.

  Hell yes. This is what I’ve been wanting.

  It must show on my face, because he laughs again, rich and deep, and when he comes in close, it isn’t my clothing his hands go to this time.

  “Take off your dress,” he says, sliding down the fly of his jeans and palming himself.

  I see now what I hadn’t seen before—he’s rocking those jeans commando. He watches me with hooded eyes, toying with just the head of his cock as I slowly lift my dress over my head and drop it to the floor.

  If possible, his pupils grow even wider. He grins, wetting his lips, and for a moment he seems hesitant, like he doesn’t want to say whatever is on the tip of his tongue. Shivers of unease race down my spine, thinking he’s about to return to the old Daerek, the one whose intentions I never really knew because he wasn’t honest with what he wanted.

  But then the look passes. His smile grows stronger, more wicked, and he says, “If I ask you to turn around, will I get slapped?”

  Heat spreads through me, overwhelming and intoxicating and not enough all in one. I lift my chin, raise one eyebrow, and turn to face the door.

  His breath hitches, but that’s all I hear for several seconds. Until his palms appear on my waist and he whispers in my ear, “Keep your hands above your head.”

  A moan drops from my lips, and I do as he says, fingers clenching against the wood of the door. Outside, distant laughter echoes—students returning from study or parties, with no idea what’s happening right in their very dorm.

  “That’s it.” His hands slide up my waist, cupping my breasts and caressing them as though his touch is for me, not for him. Gentle warmth appears at my back, and I realize he’s kissing me, lips trailing a slow path around the side of my ribcage to my nipple.

  He takes it in his mouth, sucking and laving his tongue, and then releases.

  “Don’t move those hands,” he warns.

  And it is a warning. The darkness of the command sends delicious shivers all through my body.

  “Or what?” I whisper.

  I can hear his smile in his voice, a deep rumble of amusement as he answers. “Or you’ll discover what I do to brats.”

  I close my eyes, choking down a moan. Maybe next time. For now, I just want him to hurry up and give me what I need.

  The laughter disappears as he lines himself against my pussy. I thought he might wait, enter slowly, but I was so wrong. I’m already overwhelmed by sensation, so much I can’t even cry out when the thick head of his cock pushes inside all the way to the hilt.

  Daerek doesn’t wait. I’ve barely adjusted to the size of him when he pulls out and thrusts again faster than before.

  I whimper, thinking my fantasy of slow and hard is about to be half right at least, but then he slows down again and it’s too much and too little all at once. The door rattles with the force of his thrusts, a steady, pounding beat. I push back against him, making sure to keep my hands fixed to the wood, leaning back so far my back arches incredibly.

  Daerek smacks me once on the ass—another warning—and I fall still with a cry.

  He sets the pace, the ragged sound of his gasps swiftly becoming out of control, desperate. As much as I can’t move, ordered into position and forced to wait as he slowly and deliberately takes me apart, I feel a smug sense of satisfaction at just how much he’s caught by it too. Just how gone he is for me.

  Our bond echoes from the walls.

  It builds, and I’m not sure how long I can hold off when his cock keeps up that slow slide against the perfect spot inside me. Then he stutters, his rhythm faltering, and I can’t take it.

  I clench my fingers into the wood, splinters scraping beneath my nails as they carve through the wood—something I distantly acknowledge shouldn’t be possible—and I’m coming, wave after wave overwhelming me as I cling to my position and wait for permission to fall.

  “Holy shit,” Daerek whispers, hands driving into my hips, and his thrusts speed up, overwhelming with the sensitivity of my orgasm, and he’s coming too.

  He spills into me as his hands find my breasts and we fall against the door, heavy with languor.

  “Bloody hell,” I mutter, unable to say anything else.

  Daerek huffs a laugh in my ear. “You’ve been around Violet too long already. That even had an accent.”

  I smile into the darkness behind the curtain of my hair, my closed eyes. “I like her, you know.”

  “I know, love.”

  We stand like that for several minutes more, and I’m not sure who’s doing more of the heavy lifting—Daerek or our magic. All I know is I for damn sure am not holding us up, or me up, or anything at all.

  Eventually, we sort ourselves out and collapse onto the bed. I still don’t know how long before Mal returns, but we have a few minutes, surely. And if we don’t, I can hopefully be quick enough to sit up and pass this off as Daerek feeding.

  Mostly, I just don’t want him to leave yet.

  “Wish you could stay,” I murmur into the pillow.

  Daerek goes quiet, and I wonder what he’s thinking.

  But I don’t ask, because now I know he’ll tell me once he finds the words. The idea brings a comfort I’m not used to, a sense of trust I’ve never found before.

  I snuggle closer, loving the warmth of his arms around me.

  “Maybe one day,” he says, his voice a low rumble in his chest.

  “Well, if we’re bringing the succubi back, I hardly think they’ll put their foot down about a little witch-demon romp.”

  At that, he laughs, his body shaking softly
. “Probably not, but… we should be wary.”

  “Why?”

  “We still don’t know why they’re locked away—or who locked them, apart from you in a past life. I think we should find out more before we start opening any other gates. You heard her down there… She was commanding, even behind bars. And they’re powerful enough that, even locked away, they could approach us to let them out. That’s some serious magic.”

  “Point.” Something occurs to me. “You know… it might not be us they approach next.”

  Maybe I’m not the only gatekeeper, whatever that dubious title even means.

  Are we meant to release the succubi? I have too many questions and no energy to find the answers. Not tonight.

  When I look up, his face has darkened. “You’re right.”

  “We should warn Alaztair and Violet.”

  He kisses the top of my head. “Tomorrow.” Slowly, he removes himself from the bed, and I hear it then—the scratch of a lock as Mal returns. “Sweet dreams,” he mutters, with a smile just for me.

  In the seconds before Mal opens the door, I smile back. Just for him. “Sweet dreams.”

  Craving Violet and Alaztair’s story?

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  I’d waited my whole life for my demon to arrive. Our bond would awaken my magic, tying us together and giving us power unlike any a witch like me could imagine on her own.

  Then I met Alaztair. He’s arrogant, fierce, and so damn beautiful it hurts to look at him.

  But our bond is… wrong. And he won’t trust me enough to tell me how we can fix it. I’ll be the first witch kicked out of the Academy in two centuries. All because he’s an asshole.

  Then I found out what he feeds on. What he needs from me.

  What I need from him.

  Oh, God, it’s too wicked…

  …isn’t it?

  Warning: Infernal Fate is a paranormal romance with graphic descriptions of intimacy and potentially triggering sexual situations. Intended for mature readers.