Brimstone Prince

by Barbara J. Hancock

  “Until they drag me away,” Michael promised. He drained his glass and waited for her to sip from hers. In his bedroom, the wine tasted different. The bouquet influenced by the scents of Michael himself. It was exquisite; deepening the swoon of desire she’d experienced moments before.

  Finely attuned to her mood, he reached to take the glass that almost slipped from her fingers. He placed it on the table while she sank back to lie on her side, curled toward where he stood. Her dress was a riotous crumple of sparkling organza against the dark chocolate of his bedspread, but she was too weak to fight with the voluminous skirts to straighten or remove them. She needn’t have worried. Michael reached for her dress and carefully smoothed the airy layers. Lily closed her eyes again to claim the tickling anticipation of his silky manipulations of fabric—brushing, brushing, brushing—until he found the fastenings he sought.

  Her eyes flew open then to watch his face as he slowly began to undo the endless line of buttons down her spine.

  “This is cruel engineering on Sybil’s part,” Michael said. He met Lily’s gaze and held it as button after button released to his deft fingers. Her breath came no easier when her bodice loosened. The look in his eyes kept her lungs constricted with anticipation. This was stolen time. She didn’t tell him the dress could be pulled over her head without loosening a single button. Instead, she appreciated the lingering necessary to undo each and every diamanté sphere.

  “Your hands are shaking,” Lily said. “And your fingers are like fire.”

  He paused. Flames flickered in his eyes as well.

  “I burn,” Michael said. “I’ve tried to deny it, but I’ve never been able to deny it with you.”

  She’d cleaned the plate he’d brought her before he’d poured the wine. Her energy was returning. Lily was able to reach up and touch his flushed face with fingers that felt cool against his skin.

  “You don’t have to deny your Brimstone blood for me. Never,” Lily said.

  He had come to the last button where the fitted bodice ended and the skirt began. Only at that point did the unfastening reveal skin in between where her bra ended and her panties began. His hot, calloused fingers found her bare lower back and he caressed lightly there and over the swell of her bottom, which must have peeked from the slipping organza dress as it opened.

  The call of the wings was still there at the edges of her senses. But it only heightened her affinity. Now that she’d fueled her body, her hunger for other things rose. For Michael. For his burn. For their connection and the pleasure it magnified between them. She would have to deny herself that pleasure for the rest of her life. For now she begged for it with the arch of her back and his name on her lips.

  “This dress is incredible, but nothing compared to the woman wearing it,” Michael said.

  He moved to gently take the bodice of the gown and pull it down her body. She rolled to her back to accommodate the dress’s slide until she was left in nothing but her underclothes. The flames in Michael’s eyes had leaped higher. Only the dark green rims of his irises showed. She flushed beneath his fiery gaze. But when he swooped down with hot lips to claim uncovered skin—the swell of her breasts above her bra, her lower stomach above her panties, the tops of her thighs above the garters that held her hose—she cried out.

  He joined her on the bed, kneeling over her prone body, to better linger over his kisses.

  Rivers of heat flowed from everywhere he pressed his mouth to form an expectant pool in her stomach. His kisses against exposed places became tastes. His moist tongue teased from the top of her hose up to her inner thigh and the pool became a hot flood between her legs.

  She reached for his hair, curling her fingers into its silky waves. She held on because she was flying again. She hadn’t eaten enough. Her head was still light. Michael’s hot breath teased over her mound. The thin silk she wore was no barrier at all. She moaned and he rewarded her reaction with a long, teasing kiss, nipping and nudging until her hips bucked beneath his mouth.

  He reached to free her breasts and they spilled over the tops of the bra he pulled down. He captured both globes in his hot hands, moaning when he felt the tight buds of her distended nipples against his palms.

  Lily flew. Her entire body tensed and then found release against the heat of his mouth. In that intense moment, the aura of her affinity reached out to the wings. It was no longer under her control. They were across the room. She didn’t touch them. But somehow she tapped into their residual power as if they had been placed on her back. The amplification of Brimstone and affinity swept over their bodies and Michael reared back to rip off his shirt and tuxedo jacket. Buttons flew. He had no patience left.

  She helped with his belt, but he was too impatient for her fumbling to wait for buttons and zippers to come down. He ripped his trousers loose and down as well. She heard the fabric tear.

  He was naked over her. His half-daemon body was as carved and exotic as she remembered. If she could have been with him for a lifetime, she would have been surprised each and every time she saw him. Angular, but muscled. Perfect, but scarred. Lily was suddenly strengthened by the connection her affinity had made with Lucifer’s wings. She rose up. She pushed Michael down. He allowed it. Fisting his hands into her hair, which had been loosened as she came against his pillows.

  But he didn’t try to control her moves. He allowed her to go where she would. And she did as he had done. Pressing kisses against his exposed skin. Only she sought out his scars. When he realized what parts of him she intended to worship, he gasped her name in protest, but she ignored his tightened fingers and the tension in the skin beneath her lips.

  “You are incredible because of the trials you’ve endured,” Lily whispered against his scars.

  From his arms to his chest and down to his thighs, she trailed lingering kisses punctuated with flicks of her hot tongue.

  His Brimstone blood heated beneath her lips. The scars of his former burns began to glow with a soft red light. Lily followed the light. He wasn’t pained. She could tell from his gasps and groans that he was pleasured by the burn. He was no longer afraid of his daemon blood. They controlled it together. It was theirs to enjoy. To bank and build. To stoke and release.

  And then she held his perfect erection with both of her hands to reward the bravery he’d shown as he’d allowed her to kiss his scars. She bathed the sweet, salty head of him with her tongue before engulfing him with the sheath of her hot mouth. He was too well-endowed for her to take all of him comfortably, but she persisted. It was her turn to be brave. He rewarded her with shudders and jerks and her name said worshipfully time and time again.

  She found she didn’t mind the stretch or having to hold her breath, but she did ache to replace the suction of her rhythmic mouth with the hungry heart of her. She needed to fill herself with him. So when he reached insistent hands to pull her up she gloried in the strength of his arms. He pulled her panties off and tossed them away as she moved. She was too intent on where she wanted to be to worry about the ruined silk. She mounted him with his help to position her in place. His cupped her bottom and spread her and impaled her on his swollen shaft.

  Lily flew again, but she moved to take him even as she did. The power of the wings flowed over them. The aura of affinity glimmered around their joined bodies, reflecting and enhancing the glow of flames in Michael’s hooded eyes. He arched to claim every inch of her, fighting against the constriction of her muscle spasms until he tensed and shuddered with his own release.

  She kissed him them. Gently devouring the gasps of her name that continued in repetition like prayers. She would remember his wine-flavored sighs and his perfectly sculpted lips. She memorized them then. Not the hard wooden ones she’d always known, but the real ones she loved.

  * * *

  When Grim arrived, Lily woke Michael with a hand against his cheek. He opened his lids and hi
s hazel eyes focused, but he didn’t smile. The time they’d stolen away from the palace was over. Somehow, Lily knew she had to brace herself, but she wasn’t prepared for the vacuum she experienced when Lucifer’s wings were back on Michael’s shoulders. She was hollowed out inside and her affinity barely hummed somewhere so deep she didn’t feel she could reach it. She dressed to fill the silence. The ball gown covered her nakedness, but it was no longer breathtaking. It was a crushed, lopsided version of its former self.

  Michael placed the leather jacket she’d seen on an armchair over her shoulders and Lily accepted the gesture. Sometimes it was cold on the pathways Grim took between worlds. She hugged the leather around her as Michael dressed from his drawers. He pulled on jeans and a T-shirt with the faded logo of a classic band followed by a worn jean jacket. Only when he was dressed did he reach for the wings as if they were an afterthought he’d rather forget.

  Nonetheless they were impressive on his shoulders. Again she noticed the angelic shadow he cast on the wall. He was striking with the wings on his back even though he was more human than the cold shadow of her warrior angel.

  But she could feel the repel between him and the blackened bronze all the way across the room.

  He had closed his eyes and clenched his jaw as soon as the wings settled on his shoulders. Lily didn’t go to him. The magnetism between her and the wings was still there. For some reason, they called to her and resisted Michael.

  “Are you ready?” Michael asked.

  Grim waited, but his fur was already shifting to hazy smoke.

  “Yes. It’s time,” Lily said.

  They followed the hellhound out into the hallway, but he disappeared after several steps and they did as well. There was only the prickle of changed atmosphere on exposed skin to signify their passing from one place to another. In moments, they were back in Lily’s rooms in the hell dimension. The natural silence of Nightingale Vineyards was replaced by a pregnant one interrupted by occasional whispers and distant sibilant sighs.

  “Grim will stay with you while I meet with Ezekiel,” Michael said. “There’s more to being than daemon king’s heir than wings and a throne.”

  “You aren’t the daemon king’s heir anymore. You are the daemon king,” Lily said.

  Michael’s jaw was still hard. She could see that the wings pained him. But when she stepped toward him in sympathy, he backed away as if his pain increased.

  “Send Grim to me if you need anything,” Michael said before he turned to respond to Ezekiel’s summons. Grim walked out with him. No doubt the hellhound would take up his usual sentry duty in the hall.

  A servant brought a tray to Lily’s rooms shortly after Michael was called away. He knew she needed to replenish. There were desert lilies in a vase on the corner of the tray. She touched their petals with hesitant fingers. The night in the garden came back to her senses full force—every touch, every taste and every thrust. She’d already packed her backpack. It waited beside the door. But it was practical to sit and eat the thin slices of cheese and the fresh buttery roll. She wasn’t stalling. She would have to run far and fast, and she needed all the strength she could muster. She avoided the glass of wine that accompanied the food. The deep dark color and the earthy black cherry bouquet identified the liquid as Firebird pinot noir. It would forever remind her of Michael’s kisses. There was no reason to court that torture. Not yet.

  She changed out of her ball gown, sadly recalling her desire to wear it earlier in the evening. Worn jeans, a black T-shirt and black hiking boots replaced organza and sparkling heels. She pulled on Michael’s leather jacket even though it would still be summer in the desert. There was a chill deep in her bones that no amount of layering would warm away. The more distance she put between her and Michael the colder she would become.

  For as long as she survived.

  She wasn’t going to give up without a fight. She’d chosen more kachinas from her mother’s collection and she’d packed them along with her flute. She felt the absence of her warrior angel keenly. But she wasn’t alone. She had the memory of her mother and father. She had the song in her heart that told her freeing Michael was the right thing to do.

  She had another reason to run. The call of Lucifer’s wings was incessant and it was interfering with Michael’s ability to tap into their power.

  Finally, in the early hours of the morning when all was hushed and still, Lily shrugged into the straps of her backpack just as she had several months before. Only this time she didn’t plan to return. She’d already checked the hallway. For whatever reason, Grim was not there. She was grateful and regretful at the same time. She’d like to ruffle the mutt’s smoky fur one last time.

  Instead, she dipped a finger in the neglected glass of wine and smoothed the pinot noir over her lips. In spite of her earlier thoughts, she would leave the palace with the taste of Michael’s kiss on her mouth.

  * * *

  Ezekiel wasn’t without power even though he was no longer the daemon king. After he met with Michael, he knew it was time to set the last stages of his plan in motion. Grim wasn’t happy. He whined and paced from within the cage where Ezekiel had tricked him with an enormous bone from a creature a mortal man would have found impossible to name. The bars of the cage were sanctified with Latin prayers. Grim avoided them in his pacing, but the prayers diminished his power and kept him from dematerializing.

  “Trust me,” Ezekiel scolded. Grim only growled, whined and paced some more.

  He wanted to do his master’s bidding. He wanted to watch over Lily to keep her from running away. But the former daemon king had another plan. One he’d brought forth decades before.

  Lily had to run.

  She had to be lost in order to be found.

  She needed to embrace her power and discover her aptitude.

  Most people thought that Ezekiel had planned for decades for his grandson to assume the throne, but those people were blind, including the woman he’d always intended to be queen.

  * * *

  Grim didn’t come when he called. Even if he hadn’t been wearing Lucifer’s wings, the dependable hellhound’s lack of appearance would have alerted him to trouble. He’d wanted to check on Lily without disturbing her after his meeting with Ezekiel. He’d wanted to give her time to adjust to the idea that he’d chosen the throne. Of course he understood that Ezekiel had used Lily to get to him. It had worked. He had been drawn to her as anyone with Brimstone blood would be drawn. She had awakened the burn in him after years of tamping it down and ignoring that part of himself. It was also true that the wings didn’t sit well on his shoulders. He wanted to shrug them off and replace them with his guitar. Even though he’d learned to accept his Brimstone and his daemon heritage, the wings felt wrong somehow.

  As if they belonged to someone else...

  That feeling had to pass because he had to wear them to keep Lily safe. He’d already used them to protect her from the Rogues and the damned. In those moments, they had fit him perfectly. When her aura had risen up and connected with his Brimstone power and the power of the wings, he’d found his true purpose.

  Protect Lily at all costs.

  Not because of her affinity, but because of who he was—a D’Arcy, a Turov and the son of an Ancient One. In that moment, passionate song, fury and flame had united in him as it never had before. He had banished the Rogues back into the wall through an icy shadow that seemed both horrible and familiar. It, too, had exuded a protective vibe.

  Now he was left with a crown that seemed to fit him wrong.

  It wasn’t until Grim didn’t respond to his call that he felt in his element again. His Brimstone flared. His affinity rose. Something was wrong. He’d wanted to allow Lily time to recover and he trusted Grim to alert him to trouble, but now he knew his struggle to accept Lucifer’s wings had distracted him from danger.

 
He didn’t know how much danger until Ezekiel and Grim met him at the door of Lily’s rooms.

  “She’s gone. She won’t last in the outside world. She had to have known that. They’ll hunt her down and this time they’ll find her alone,” Ezekiel said.

  Michael slammed through the door, barely pausing to hear his grandfather’s words. He knew the room was empty before he looked around. The air was still. There was no song. Lily’s starlit gown lay crumpled on the floor. He stooped to pick it up. He cradled the airy folds against his chest. He wanted to hold Lily. To protect her from all who would harm her. She’d lived a protected life that was actually anything but safe. And her guardian, the daemon king, was the greatest danger of them all.

  “You drove her to this,” Michael said.

  “Yes. I did. But not for the reasons you suspect,” Ezekiel said softly. “Find her first. Save her. Protect her as only the son of a Guardian can protect her. And then you’ll both understand.”

  Michael allowed the dress to fall back to the floor. But when he turned to claim his hellhound from Ezekiel’s grip, he was stopped by the tiny wooden sculpture his grandfather held out in his hand. It was Lily’s special kachina doll. The one she’d called her warrior angel. The one that had his face.

  “Your father’s name was Michael, too,” Ezekiel said. “Take this to Lily. It’s time she accepted it back into her possession. She has nothing to fear from your father. He’s been protecting her all along...until her true Guardian could assume his role.”

  Michael remembered what Ezekiel had said to him when he’d first visited the hell dimension.

  I will protect the throne for you until that day.

  Michael’s heart swelled and his chest tightened at the same time. He reached to take the kachina from Ezekiel’s hand. He felt its chill when his hand closed around it, but it was more familiar now. He recognized it from the shadow that had helped them against the Rogues.