Her Demon Prince (Forbidden Fantasy)

by Cathleen Ross

  Phoebe paused. "No. Actually I don't." She had a feeling she didn't want to know the answer.

  "Lucifer." With that, he vanished leaving her on her own.

  Just the name sent her heart banging to her throat and it was more than she could bear to think about. Now that she knew fallen angels were real, even the name terrified her. Instead, she decided to focus on what she could do: bathe Agrat using Cassiel's angel healing water. The water sparkled in the bowl, luminous and wholesome. She prayed that it would heal Agrat as she soaked the cloth in the water. "Please wake up. I need you. Now that I've found you, I don't want to lose you. I remember what we were together, what we are together and what we can have."

  She could smell sweet herbs mixed with fresh rainfall on the cloth as she washed his face, her fingers grazing the fine skin around his almond eyes, the curve of his hooked nose and petulant mouth. She'd kissed that mouth when he'd been happy and she wanted to see that expression on his face again, not the wounded melancholy of one man fighting against the world.

  She washed around the creases of his neck and the hollow at his throat where she longed to kiss. "Wake up, my love. I want you back. I can't bear seeing you like this."

  A groan met her words.

  She leaned forward. Could he hear her? His breathing settled into a rhythmic flow but his eyes remained closed. "Listen to me. I love you. Come back to me. Dammit, Agrat, I've gone through so much with you, I don't know what's up or down, but I do know that I need you in my life. I don't feel whole without you."

  She rinsed the cloth in the basin and wrung it out. Daniel had told her to get the demon crap off the prince and she'd better hop to it. There was a long slicing wound that went from the prince's nipple to his abdomen but it wasn't deep. The wound on his stomach had ceased to bleed but it remained open and had blackened around the edges. Having finished with his face and neck, she focused on cleansing his torso, her hand moving over the ridged muscles which tensed as she touched him.

  He was reacting to her washing him.

  "Please come back to me. Please wake," she said, with increasing desperation.

  Cautiously, she dabbed at where the knife had entered his stomach, using liberal amounts of the healing water in the hope that it would help close the wound.

  Agrat groaned and his body twisted. Sweat beaded on his brow, his muscles tensed until his whole body began to tremble. His back arched and his mouth opened as if in a silent scream.

  "It's hurting you," she said out loud, feeling tears well in her eyes. Pain. It appeared to be reverberating through his body. Her heart was going thump, thump, thump in her chest and she was struggling to see through the sheen of tears. She blinked and they rolled down her cheeks.

  When she rinsed the cloth, she saw the fabric had not only discolored where it had touched the injury, it had started to smolder, a sulfurous stink coming off the material.

  She rose, picked up the nearly empty basin and ran to the kitchen, threw the cloth and the remains of the water into the sink. The cloth exploded into flame, black and evil smelling. Poison! It was taking over Agrat. She flung open the kitchen door, which led to the outside of the house, to let the fumes out then refilled the basin from the urn and grabbed a fresh cloth from the kitchen counter. It sickened her to think that this man, her man, had this festering evil in his system.

  She had to cleanse him.

  Striding back, careful not to slop the liquid over the sides of the bowl, she entered the lounge area to see Agrat's whole body arch and stiffen. "Agrat!" Oh good God in heaven, what was happening to him? Was he dying? This was like nothing she'd ever seen. "I'll get this poison off you," she said, forcing herself to work faster.

  His strong hands had taken a battering. There were cuts and blood and defensive wounds right up his forearms where he'd blocked whatever had come at him. Her stomach turned with the thought that he had done this to defend her. She sloshed water over his arm, trying to cleanse as much of it as she could. Grabbing his hand, she forced it down into the basin, soaking the blood off. She couldn't bear to think of any demon filth remaining on him. Not a speck. Although he called himself an elemental demon, Phoebe was convinced that there was nothing demonic about Agrat. He was a good man.

  Hers.

  His other hand, the one that was still blood covered, shook and his face shifted from side to side, his mouth grimacing as he groaned with pain.

  Phoebe leaned over him. "Agrat, please wake up."

  She caught the gleam of his eyes under heavy hoods. His filth-covered hand began opening and closing before it clenched into a fist.

  Glancing to her side, she saw the dagger she had placed on the table start to spin. Was he trying to call it to him? What if he were having a nightmare? Fear rippled down her spine. Agrat would never hurt her intentionally, she knew this, but he was poisoned with demon filth and she wasn't going to take any chances. She grabbed the dagger, ran with it into the kitchen, filled a bowl with the angel healing water and threw the dagger into it. The blood and grime on the dagger, bubbled and popped, the sound of it making her stomach turn.

  She ran back to Agrat and sat near his face. "Agrat, can you hear me? You're safe with me. You don't need your dagger." Rinsing the cloth in the basin, she wrapped it around his fisted hand, soaking it in the healing water. A sulfurous scent reached her nostrils but it wasn't as strong as before. His clenched hand relaxed and she breathed a deep sigh of relief as she washed his palm.

  His whole body slumped on the fold-out chair and he quieted, no longer expelling deep groans of agony.

  She washed down his legs, working on his massive thighs, relieved that they were uninjured. A fluttering sensation in her heart drew her attention to the fact that she was nervous that he wouldn't recover.

  Looking over him, she saw that the long stripe on his torso had sealed over and his stomach wound was starting to knit. She took in a deep breath, relieved that the angel water was working. The black and purple bruises on his body healed in front of her eyes. She put her hand in the bowl and sprinkled water on the stomach injury, praying it would be as effective there.

  He turned his face, opened his eyes, stared at her vacantly and began murmuring words in an unintelligible language, his brow creasing as his body jerked in pain.

  Phoebe shook her head, her heart hammering in her chest at his distress. "I'm sorry, Agrat. I wish you'd wake up and speak to me in English."

  The tip of his tongue touched the top of his lips. "Water," he said, his voice deep, raw and rasping.

  Phoebe grabbed the glass on the nearby table, cupped his head so she could raise him and put the glass to his lips, pouring a little of the healing water into his mouth. "Drink this."

  He opened his mouth further and drank the liquid down as if a ravenous thirst burned his throat, so she tilted the glass and he gulped it so that the water ran down his chin. She left the water on his skin, watching it as it sparkled and sank into his body. "Try and open your eyes. Agrat, look at me. I need you to wake up. You're safe with me."

  He blinked and focused on her, his expression confused. "Phoebe?"

  "I'm here." Waves of relief flowed over her. She put down the glass and threw her arms around him and kissed him. His lips felt warm under hers and tasted sweet and he smelled of herbs and sunshine where she'd bathed him. "Thank God, you're awake. You were groaning. I was so worried about you."

  "Hell had me."

  "No, you're safe."

  "I could feel demon arms clawing, pulling me down."

  "Nightmares. You're with me. You've been badly injured. Poisoned."

  He lifted his head, looked down at the stomach wound and moaned deep in his throat. "Snarcus's blade." The jagged edges remained discolored but were no longer black, though the injury was still malodorous despite the angel water.

  "Snarcus?" The word had a guttural sound to it and her whole body shook with alarm, though she wasn't sure why.

  "Demon," he said. "Blade deadly. Venomous."

 
"Ugh!"

  "Killed him," Agrat explained.

  "Good. You were covered in demon blood splatter. Daniel said it's toxic. Gives you nightmares. I've been cleaning it off you. I still have to do your back."

  "Hurts," he said, his voice so quiet she could barely hear it. Frustration showed in his face.

  She suspected it would be galling for a man who'd never relied on anyone before to be having a sponge bath. But she wanted to be there for him, in his weakness and his strength. She'd never felt love like this. Ever.

  For a warrior who'd made light of the wounds he'd had in the past, she knew this must be tough. "Daniel said you have to drink to flush the demon poison out of you. It's dangerous to your mind and your body. I'm going to refresh your glass." She snatched it up, along with the washcloth and bowl.

  She felt his gaze follow her across the room as she went to the kitchen, as if he couldn't take his eyes off her, so she turned around, unable to resist giving him a reassuring smile. She'd never seen him so vulnerable and she liked it that he needed her for a change. When she came back with the water bowl full, she sat close to his face, placed the bowl on the side table and held out the water glass. "Can you manage this?"

  He took it from her and drank.

  "Let me finish bathing you. I want to get this filth off you. You were calling for your dagger and I could see it spinning on the side table. I was worried."

  "I'd never hurt you."

  "Not on purpose."

  He gripped her hand. "Not even in my nightmares. I could hear you calling me back from hell. Your voice was like a clear chime, guiding me. Whatever happens, your life comes before mine. Remember that."

  "I love you. I couldn't bear to lose you." Her whole body started to tremble and she put her hands to her face.

  Putting his hand over the knife wound on his stomach, he made to get off the fold-out chair, clearly disturbed by her distress.

  "Stop. Don't move. I'll be okay. It's just the shock."

  He reached out his arms. "Hold me," he said hoarsely.

  She flung herself into his arms and sobbed, great heaving cries until she couldn't cry anymore. All the while, he stroked her hair and made soothing sounds. She had the sense that although he was poisoned and battered, at this moment he still had the strength to comfort her. That he would always be there for her.

  He took her face between his hands and kissed her face. "I am difficult to kill."

  "So you keep saying, but you went close to the line this time."

  "I will always find my way back to you, just as you will always call for me. That is our destiny," he said, his voice soothing.

  Gingerly, she touched along the faded slice wound and her fingers hovered over his stomach where the demon knife had dug deep. Her stomach clenched and throat tightened as another wave of emotion threatened to sweep her away. She took in a deep, shuddering breath and told herself to get it together. Crying never helped anything. She raised herself to a sitting position and wiped her tears with the back of her hand. "You and Daniel took on an army."

  For her.

  Her gaze swept over him and she realized there was blood splatter on his other arm so she reached over, picked up the washcloth, dipped it in the bowl and began to wipe him clean, watching as the bruises vanished when the healing water touched his skin.

  The sparkle came back into his eyes. "We have a son, Phoebe. He is a strong warrior and he saved my life."

  "I'm still coming to terms with that. He's far older than I am. He's nice. He's nearly as old as you are, but he speaks like a teenager."

  Agrat frowned as his eyes took on a look of concentration. "He sounds like the television programs the cop watches. I have to focus and translate when he speaks."

  The corners of her lips turned up. "True! How funny. I wonder if he watches them here?" Her gaze locked on the television on the far side of the room. She wiped his arm down again. His shoulders and arms were magnificent, bulky and rock hard and she enjoyed working on him, especially since he was lucid. She thought of what it was like to be underneath him, her fingers clinging to him when he took her. There was a need for him in her that would never go away as if he'd become part of her.

  "Raise your arm," she said.

  Agrat flexed his fingers as she washed under his arm, squirming slightly as she tended to him. The stern lines of his face relaxed.

  "Am I tickling you?" she asked.

  "Tickling? I am not familiar with this sensation. No one has touched me there before."

  She thought of how her parents had adored and tickled her as a child. She held her tongue.

  Agrat put his arm down once she'd finished washing him and frowned. "Lightning betrayed me. He left me at the mercy of the demon horde."

  "Didn't you say Lightning was mercurial?" she asked.

  "I had to take the risk. I needed the power."

  "Envy snatched me while you were charging. You say my presence helps you absorb power, so I wonder if that was why it didn't go so well."

  "The first time I recharged with Lightning was easier. You speak with wisdom."

  She felt herself smile at his compliment, her mood lightened. "I'm a fast learner. I also stabbed Envy with your dagger. Unfortunately that didn't stop him delivering me to Galaden, but it slowed him down."

  "Galaden must die." He tried to sit and grimaced.

  "Wait a minute. You're as weak as a kitten." She glanced at his stomach wound but it had knitted over.

  A growl left his throat and his eyes flashed.

  She stood and walked around to face him. She extended both hands. "Let me pull you up."

  "I do not like this."

  "You mean relying on me? Get used to it."

  "You are my princess. You are to rely on me," he said.

  "It goes both ways in modern times. Besides, I want to wash your back. You'll enjoy that, knowing you."

  He grinned and linked his hands with hers.

  She anchored her foot on the chair and pulled him into a sitting position. Once he was seated, she walked around him, brushing her fingers lightly over his shoulders, savoring the sensation that he was hers. Dipping the cloth into the bowel, she washed over the rippling muscles of his back, marveling at how huge and strong he was. Agrat had miraculous healing powers and the water added to the process. He wouldn’t stay weak for long, so she relished this quiet moment.

  She bent, pulled his long hair aside and kissed his neck. "I'm so relieved that you're safe."

  He shifted and raised his shoulder. "Tickling again," he murmured. "Is this what a woman in love does?"

  "You better believe it." He smelled sweet and aromatic from the angel water. "I haven't washed between your legs. Would you like to do it or do you prefer me to do it for you?" When she walked to the front of him, she saw his eyes were glowing a warm brown.

  "You do it," he said, leaning back and opening his massive thighs. "I am 'weak'."

  "Agrat!" she warned, when he reached over and cupped her breast. She knelt in front of him and looked him straight in the eye. "You must stay relaxed."

  "You are kneeling between my legs."

  "You cannot strain your stomach muscles in case your wound starts bleeding."

  His response was to lean back and support himself with his arms, open his legs further and close his eyes while a small smile tilted his sensual mouth.

  "You must be tired after what you've been through," she said, dipping the cloth in the basin and wringing it out.

  "Tiredness is not in my mind."

  Phoebe carefully washed his inner thighs then lifted his sack, cupped it in her hand like a treasure and sponged it thinking of the delight he had given her in the bedroom. The large head of his penis stirred as if it were searching for her hand. "I can see that."

  His hand moved lazily to cup her breast.

  "Stop, Agrat. You're injured."

  "Not where you're touching."

  She looked at his manhood with longing. When she took hold of his penis, she sti
ll marveled over the length and width of it. She wiped a rivulet of water from his abdomen, right down at the junction of the dark nest of hair. She trickled water over it with the cloth, guiding its flow along the hard shaft. His manhood twitched with each gentle stroke of her cloth.

  She picked up her bowl, walked to the kitchen and washed the cloth and basin. When she returned to the lounge area she found Agrat lying on his back with a massive erection waiting for her.

  She thought of him opening her as he slid his length into her body. Already, there was moisture between her thighs and her nipples were tight under her tee shirt.

  He knew just how to tease them with the tip of his tongue.

  "Agrat, you need to recover," she said, coming to stand next to him. "I'll go find a blanket to put over you."

  His hand clamped over her wrist. "I have healed."

  "But your wound?" she protested. She looked down and it had vanished, the healing water was clearly working its magic.

  "Take off your clothes," he said, his voice pressing.

  She saw the urgency in his eyes and knew he wouldn't take no for an answer. "Fine, but I'm on top and you don't move your hips."

  "As you wish, Princess."

  She pulled her hand from his grasp. "Why is it that the more complacent you are, the more suspicious of you, I feel?"

  "I wish to try this, 'on top' position," he said, his eyes lighting up with interest. "Women of my time would not have dared to demand such a thing unless their lord ordered it. What I do not understand is why it is necessary to drink ale and watch football when the woman is on top."

  Phoebe's mouth dropped. "You're channeling that cop, aren't you?"

  "Your modern ways puzzle me," he said, appearing genuinely confused.

  "It's not necessary. That cop's disgusting. I'm going to give him a piece of my mind if I ever see him again."

  "Do not give him your mind," he said, his face intense with concern.

  "It means a tongue lashing."

  "No!" He reached out for her. "Your tongue is only to be used on me."

  "Oh, forget it." She stared at him lying there looking like an advertisement for quality bedding. Already aware of the ache deep inside her and the fierce need to reconnect, she pulled her tee-shirt over her head, reached around her back and unclasped her bra, then slid out of her shoes and jeans. From the first moment he'd touched her, she never lost the excitement of his embrace.