Every Witch Demon but Mine (Maeren Series Book 1)

by Mercedes Jade

  A fireless witch was almost useless to feed upon for a demon with lightning for his primary magic. The other vampire had been very upfront about her not meeting his feeding needs.

  Daemon did not need to suspect she was the exact, rare match to his magic.

  Although she wasn’t sure he would recognize her lightning if she used it to see Jill’s thoughts, she was afraid to risk it.

  What to say to her mother?

  ‘Come back in ten minutes’ sounded like a challenge she was sure Daemon would love to meet.

  “Don’t let them stay alone too long,” Elizabeth warned.

  Her mother wouldn’t fail to realize something was wrong when Elizabeth left it at that. She knew Elizabeth would stomp out there and blow Jill’s door down under normal circumstances.

  There was only one reason why Elizabeth would stay locked in her room.

  “Are you okay?” her mother asked.

  Yep, suspicious.

  Damn it! She was going to have to say it.

  “I think I heard a storm coming. You better make sure Jill has a candle. You know she hates the dark.”

  Lightning built up without regular purges. It started to spark on Elizabeth’s skin visibly when she waited too long.

  The glowing had been more of a problem before her hunts. Afterwards, she had hit the sweet spot with her magic. She blocked enough, so it wasn’t wasted.

  When she was a baby and burning through power like a demon, using telepathy indiscriminately, build-up hadn’t been the issue.

  She now used lightning up regularly enough on illusions to trick rogue vampires and get a staking in every so often.

  Her family was used to shut-ins while she purged the excess charge in a ‘light show for one.’

  It wouldn’t happen if she could form energy-sucking bolts, but those were impossible to hide unless she hiked out for miles to be alone.

  This deep in Maeren, the magic built even faster. She really would have to purge soon.

  There were no lightning witches.

  It was practically an unspoken family motto. No one other than Jill and their mother were to be trusted with the true knowledge of her power.

  “Okay, I’m going to go to Jill now.”

  Her mother walked away from the door, but Elizabeth could feel her fortifying the air barrier she had left around the room. The effort would normally weaken her mother for days if she kept it up while they all slept.

  Elizabeth wasn’t the only one experiencing a surge in her power.

  Why did everything suddenly feel like a jack-in-the-box being wound up?

  Tick. Tick. Tick.

  Nowhere to Hide

  “You do realize she’s trapped you in here with me?” Daemon grumbled, startling Elizabeth as his deep voice vibrated from his chest she was tucked against.

  He had been holding her so comfortably that her struggles had stopped while she talked to her mother. He held her with an ease that said he could do it all day long.

  She was getting much too used to his touch for someone she had only just met.

  “Let me get the door and the air-shield for you,” she offered, more than ready to boot him from her room.

  She grabbed his shoulder and pushed her thumb hard into a pressure point.

  Tit for tat.

  He grunted his discomfort but didn’t release her, changing his grip to compensate for her attack.

  “So, when are you going to tell me whose fangs were in your neck?” he asked.

  His casual question stopped her heart.

  It had been too much to hope he wouldn’t see her bite when he had a much different perspective, holding her in his arms. This was like having her boyfriend see another guy’s hickey on her neck.

  “Doesn’t matter,” she said, dismissing the bite like a drunken henna tattoo. At least it wouldn’t be forever. “We weren’t compatible.”

  “Well, the door tells me that we are a match,” he said, looking down at her.

  His eyes were incredible up close. The striations of green and dark amber catching the light from the fire were so detailed as if painted by a fine brush. Tiny glimmers of gold flecks lit-up by the power locked inside him, flickering through his irises.

  She could lose herself in those eyes.

  “It’s kind of weak,” she excused, feeding him her mother’s often repeated lie about her air while still peering up at him.

  She couldn’t deny her air when she’d demonstrated it so effectively earlier and everyone knew Daemon’s magic.

  “It felt about three inches thick and solid oak, going quite fast,” he replied, purposefully speaking of the door instead of labelling her and her magic.

  Perhaps it was a kindness, or maybe pity, for a weakling air witch.

  She blinked and looked away, not wanting to see his disappointment in her.

  “I’m not interested in feeding you if that’s what you’re looking for, and I made that perfectly clear at the ball,” she said to the door.

  “I don’t need another feeder,” he replied, sounding a bit irritated as he carried her back toward the bed.

  She may have sounded a bit petulant herself.

  “There were other things we seemed well-matched in, sweetheart. I want to make sure you aren’t letting some other male lock you up in a harem before we get to know each other.”

  Ah, no wonder he was unimpressed by the bite on her neck.

  That didn’t make his change of heart acceptable. He was bulldozing all over her feelings.

  “You broke into my room, made yourself comfortable with my things, then made me lie to my mother, all so you could ensure I would be another notch on your bedpost?”

  She sounded furious, which was much better than pouting.

  He dropped her on the bed with a bounce.

  “Does this notch thing involve you in fewer clothes?” he asked.

  One track mind.

  She wanted to scream in frustration. Maybe she wasn’t the only one indulging during the ball.

  Daemon getting drunk could explain his behaviour. It would also explain his poor judgment in mixing up her stabbing him as flirting.

  “Are you drunk?” she asked, perhaps sounding a bit too hopeful.

  “Not yet,” he answered, pushing her to lie down on the centre of the bed.

  He crawled over her before she could wriggle away, boxing her in and leaning down to whisper in her ear.

  “We could play a game. You drink champagne, while I erase this little mistake from your neck and have a drink, too. We’ll see which of us passes out first.”

  His touch was fire along her skin, but it didn’t burn anything but her lust.

  Without a doubt, she would succumb to his orgasmic bite if he got his fangs into her neck. It would be embarrassingly fast. Just his fingers were priming her for him.

  She needed to shut this down.

  “Isn’t that a sweet idea? A romantic night, with you drinking me to unconsciousness, while I’m too impaired to resist,” she said with a great deal of snark.

  “Little innocent,” Daemon whispered into her ear. He blew a cool breath against the fang marks on her neck, which were hypersensitive. “Witches don’t faint from being sipped. It’s the intense pleasure from the bite when done properly.”

  Oh, fuck. She believed him.

  He slipped his hands under her body to blindly undo the buttons from the top of her back.

  The move brought her neck and the promise of that orgasmic bite closer.

  No. Nope. Fight it!

  “I like to save the heavy necking for the second date,” she said, still attempting to discourage him.

  If only her body believed what she said.

  Trying to squirm out of his embrace had immediate repercussions. Her breasts rubbed against his chest.

  They both froze for a moment.

  “You smell like a storm,” he told her, his voice even deeper than before.

  She shivered, a tendril of fear tainting her arousal whe
n his thoughts echoed so closely to her own. She smelled like he did, with their matching power.

  “Well, if you would stop rubbing all over me, then I won’t smell like I’ve been rolling with the–”

  He kissed her mouth shut. Just a brief touch of his lips, with a hint of fang.

  Oh, Maeren. She hadn’t been ready for that . . . still feeling out his kiss when he was already pulling back from it.

  She just barely stopped herself from pushing up to retake his lips for a proper smooch.

  “Do you never stop talking?” he asked, his amusement obvious as he smirked down at her befuddled countenance.

  It was the kind of question that would damn her as soon as she answered.

  So what? She wanted to wipe that smirk from his face. Even though it was the exact opposite of what she should be doing, a woman could only be pushed so far. It was time to grab this devil by the horns.

  “Sugar, I love to talk,” she drawled in her best sexpot-voice, doing a sudden flip in strategy. “Do you want the filthy details of what I wanted to do to a demon with your attributes on that balcony?” she tempted him.

  He looked surprised.

  Bingo.

  Phone sex probably wasn’t a thing here, given the lack of electronics in hell. These guys all had harems to satisfy their every need, so they wouldn’t think they were missing anything.

  Little did they know, the art of teasing was sometimes sexier than the actual act.

  “I thought you didn’t want to exchange spit with a demon?” Daemon queried, his fingers resuming their unbuttoning.

  “Talking dirty in your ear is a little harmless fun,” she whispered. “Come closer. Promise to keep your hands and your fangs to yourself. I’ll tell you about where I would like to imagine putting my mouth first on your big, hard body.”

  Could she do it? Already, her heart was racing. Would Daemon laugh at her attempt to turn into a seductress or take over control as he had on the balcony?

  “Just imagine?” he asked putting emphasis on the last word.

  He couldn’t know what that simple word meant to her when she used her magic.

  “Pretend,” she said, squashing any hopes for live-action.

  “Go ahead,” he said, leaning forward to offer her the requested ear.

  She swallowed, feeling the nervous bob of it in her throat. It was showtime. Her act would either save her from discovery or doom her.

  He hadn’t stopped undressing her while he waited for her to start. His fingers were brushing little circles over each bit of her skin he revealed as another button of her gown was undone.

  It was driving her crazy.

  “You’re supposed to use your imagination, not your mouth or hands,” she reminded him.

  His playful fingers slowed the unbuttoning to a more leisurely pace but still continued.

  She’d had boyfriends palm her boobs before trying to get into her pants, but this slow exploration down a few inches of her spine felt more intimate.

  She cleared her throat pointedly.

  His dark gaze flicked up to hers from where he’d been eyeing up her chest.

  “I promise to keep my fangs to myself and to not fuck you, no matter how hard your sexy mouth makes me.”

  Well, that was a loaded promise! She was crazy to be doing this with him.

  “The whole point is to rev up your libido without touching,” she told him and then started speaking in a hushed, sexy voice again.

  Time to go all in. She decided to describe a very lusty blowjob on her knees. The thought of making this powerful demon vulnerable to her as she seduced him was a strong inducer of desire.

  He stopped his unbuttoning.

  She whispered how wet she’d get as he fed her inch after inch of his big cock. She’d like it if he fisted her hair, ordered her to take more, and growled her name as she sucked him deep.

  Reaching back to grab his now frozen hands, she pulled them away from her gown’s buttons and he didn’t resist.

  He was too busy listening to her explain how, when she had her lips wrapped around his length and he slowly fucked her lush mouth, her fingers would slip under her own dress and into her panties.

  She wasn’t brave enough to meet his gaze as she spoke, closing her eyes as she fantasized out loud for him.

  He suddenly broke free of her grasp. His hands slid up her arms, his fingers tracing from her shoulders to her chest, exposed by the partly unbuttoned gown.

  Her eyes popped open.

  “Hands,” she reminded him, gasping against the fire he left behind his touch.

  She had been shamelessly aroused by her own dirty story. She hadn’t even gotten to the peak for either of them yet.

  “I never said I wouldn’t touch you,” he retorted.

  Was that a promise or a threat?

  “Why me?” she asked.

  “Do you want me to tell you how desirable you are, sweetheart?” he queried into her ear.

  After the earlier rejection from him and the other vampire, her sense of worth could use a little fluffing.

  She shook her head in denial.

  His naked chest brushed against her breasts as he leaned further forward, chuckling at her obvious lie. He unwittingly teased her sensitive nipples, already in hard nubs, as he moved over her.

  She moaned softly. This was a battle against him and her body.

  His hands tugged her gown down her shoulders.

  Her breath hitched as she thought he’d expose her breasts too, but he left her chest still modestly clothed.

  The few inches of skin he’d exposed still felt provocative.

  Vampires were neck men, after all.

  “There were dozens of other witches at the ball,” she pointed out, grasping for a last-minute reprieve.

  He chuckled harder and told her he could count.

  She gasped again when he scraped a blunt fingernail down the exposed, delicate skin lining her upper back. Lightning tingled over her nerve endings as he let the merest trickle of his power tease her skin.

  “I claim you,” he said, pulling back to look into her eyes.

  There was no merriment now, just dark want and possession.

  He may as well have dumped cold water on her, she stiffened up so fast.

  A claim was serious business for a witch! She couldn’t afford the entanglement. This was much worse than a harem.

  “You don’t want me,” she said, prepared to list her shortcomings in agonizing detail. If she was lucky, he would fall asleep from boredom. “Leave now, and we can pretend tonight never happened,” she offered.

  Perhaps, he was doing this out of some sense of obligation. He had stated intentions in front of the entire ballroom when she’d stabbed him and drawn all of the attention.

  “You want to do it in my room?” he mocked, not taking her offer seriously.

  The merriment was back in his eyes.

  “Get out,” she demanded with a push of air.

  This time her air-thrust met his air-shield and it was like pushing up on an elephant.

  “Oh, sweetheart,” he said, chuckling. “Do you think you can make me change my mind?”

  That lighthearted question skated too close to mind control.

  “I didn’t think of you as thick-headed as an earth lord,” she responded. “My mistake.”

  He had no idea how close he had come to guessing the truth about her.

  Fiery white sparks suddenly lit her bed canopy and drapes, harmlessly burning only the darkness away.

  “I claim you.” His voice deepened with possessive intent again. “You are mine.”

  Claimed in Darkness

  For someone who didn’t believe in romance, Daemon’s demand to claim her was the equivalent of offering her the moon and stars.

  Anything to buy what he desired.

  Untouchable symbols of emotion, too often warped for males to manipulate females.

  A claim was only temporary. There was no obvious benefit or reason she could fig
ure out to account for his insistence.

  Unless it would also harm her, then acquiescence may be easiest.

  A claim kept other males away from her. It didn’t promise anything to him.

  Jill was going to let Prince Phillip claim her. Elizabeth could do the same—with one big exception to the usual terms.

  “No feeding,” she demanded. That had to be clear.

  His dark eyes sparkled with amusement and something more that he was holding back.

  She swallowed nervously but wouldn’t release him from her demand.

  “No touching. No biting. No feeding. No fucking.” He smiled down at her and she shivered. “Such a bossy witch you are. The more you tell me no now, the sweeter it will be when you beg me later.”

  The arrogant prick.

  He brushed his thumb against her lips as he had on the balcony. “And I never agreed to no touching,” he added.

  She was going to say ‘yes’ to him. They both knew it, or else, she wouldn’t have made her demands.

  His claim stated his intentions. He’d already warned her it was too late to run.

  “I accept,” she said, still seeing his stars as she closed her eyes.

  He brushed her lips with the requisite kiss that was embarrassingly chaste compared to her dirty fantasy earlier, and then she felt a prick on her bare shoulder.

  Lightning tingled with the saliva-mixed ink that he’d injected into her, as he used his magic to set the tattoo design into her skin.

  Her shoulder burned a little more painfully as his magic and hers mingled.

  It would take weeks before her magic would be able to erase the evidence of his claim.

  He licked the drop of blood from her shoulder, left from the prick.

  Her eyes shot open.

  He would taste her lightning.

  Daemon grinned down at her.

  She couldn’t let him reveal her lightning!

  The king would have her under lock and key, the freedom she needed to hunt severely restricted. She would be assigned to a royal harem.

  If they knew how her lightning let her slip into minds, then it would be infinitely worse.

  She may never see her family again.

  Panic blinded her judgement.