To Win a Demon's Love

by Nadine Mutas

  “All those talks we had about her,” Dima said, cutting through a small city park toward their trucks, “all I heard you say was how much you want her, how you need to court her so she’ll mate with you. You go on and on about making her fall for you, making her yours, winning her heart, blah-di-bla-la-la.” He waved a hand to illustrate his point.

  Mustn’t punch him, mustn’t punch him, mustn’t…

  “What I’m missing in there—” his twin hopped over the low fence separating the green space from the parking lot, “—is any kind of acknowledgment of, or interest in, what she wants.”

  Alek paused before following Dima over the fence.

  “You don’t even see how self-centered your whole attitude is, do you?” Dima leaned against his car, arms crossed, stretching the leather jacket over his shoulders. “Have you ever, even once, considered that turning back into a witch is what she really needs? What she truly wants? You’re pursuing her like a slobbering dog runs after a treat, without any care for her needs. That’s not love. That’s selfish infatuation.”

  Anger raced through his blood stream, his immediate reaction to reject Dima’s accusation. But he knew better. After years of relying on his twin’s advice and astute mind to help him analyze sticky situations, he’d learned to trust Dima’s judgment and evaluation. Was he right this time, too? He swallowed hard.

  “This thing with Lily…” his twin went on, “it can’t work if you think of yourself first. Honestly, I can understand why she’s reluctant to commit to you. You’ve shown no real concern for her needs and wants, and you’ve given her no reason to trust you on a deeper level. Why should she agree to bind herself to a lifetime with you, when your entire act so far has been about getting what you want?”

  “Damn you…” Alek rasped, rubbing a hand over his face. Damn his twin for being so on point. Because Dima’s words wouldn’t hurt him like this if they didn’t ring with a truth he couldn’t deny.

  “When you truly love someone,” his brother said, his voice gentling, “you put their needs before your own. You care more about their happiness than your own.” He pushed away from his car, walked over to him and put one hand on Alek’s shoulder. “I want to see you successfully mated as much as you do, Sasha. But if you build a mating on selfish needs rather than true affection and consideration for your partner, it won’t be a successful one. When you love someone, you want to ensure they’re happy. You don’t stand in the way of their happiness.” He squeezed Alek’s shoulder, gave him a hard look. “You don’t sabotage their search for a way to turn back into a witch just because you want to keep them.”

  “Fuck you,” he said, his heart cringing, the words holding no heat. He grasped Dima’s shoulder in turn, touched his forehead to his twin’s. “I hate it when you’re right.”

  “I know.” Dima clasped the nape of Alek’s neck, squeezed twice. “It’s what I live for.”

  Hunger coiled inside Lily. Dark, voracious, unrelenting hunger.

  Only this need for sustenance wasn’t for food. At least, not the usual kind. She’d just eaten—a huge portion of the lasagna leftover from dinner—so she knew it wasn’t her stomach sending those signals.

  This kind of hunger was a full-body craving for energy—for duh.

  She thought she’d still be good until tomorrow, but the breath she gave Alek last night apparently demanded replenishment right the fuck now. One look at the demon signs peeking out from under the top of her blouse—another borrow from Tori, and damn, but she’d have to pay her and Dima back for everything they’d given her already—confirmed her duh level was low again. Too low to last the night.

  She had just finished folding laundry for Tori in the living room, while the boys were galloping up and down the stairs chasing each other with what looked like toy light sabers, and Tori was upstairs putting Chloe down for a nap when the front door opened and in strode Alek.

  Her heart skipped a beat, the knot in her chest easing at the sight of him. She hadn’t realized how much she missed him, despite everything. She was rising from the couch when the mirage faded, reality slapping her in the face.

  She blinked, recognized the difference in his aura, how his hair was a little shorter. The way he held himself was different enough from the male who tugged at her heartstrings that anyone should notice after a few seconds.

  “Hi, Dima,” she said, trying not to let her disappointment show.

  “Hey, there.” He nodded at her then frowned. “You look antsy. Did the boys give you trouble?”

  “Oh, no, not at all. It’s just—”

  Said boys came thundering down the stairs at that moment, having heard their father arrive. They launched themselves at him, raining down complaints about how the light saber fight had escalated over the question of whose turn it was to play with the coveted model of the Millennium Falcon.

  “He hit me!”

  “He broke my light saber!”

  “Oy!” Dima shouted, effectively silencing both kids. His voice lowering to a pitch that was no less authoritative for being quiet, he said, “I want you both to sit down in different rooms and think about why you’re mad at each other. I’ll come collect you in five minutes, and I want each one of you to tell me what exactly happened, what each of you did, and how it made you feel. And I want you to think about how either one of you could have handled the situation in a way that would have made both of you happy. Now go.”

  There was some unintelligible grumbling and whining, but both Jordan and Lucas shuffled off upstairs.

  “Impressive,” Lily said.

  “Parenting.” Dima blew out a breath. “It’s like a diplomat’s job without the great pay.” He shrugged, joy lighting up his eyes. “Then again, they are cute enough to eat, so I guess that makes up for it.”

  The front door opened, and Yuri breezed in. He went straight into the kitchen—waving at Dima and giving Lily a beaming smile—rummaged around the fridge, and came back into the living room with a huge sandwich he’d apparently found.

  “What’s up?” he asked while chewing.

  “Lily was just about to tell me.”

  She heaved a sigh, rubbed her arm. “Well, it’s just that I need duh, but I’m not—” Swallowing past the growing lump in her throat, she said, “I really don’t want to kill again.” The darkness inside her, it demanded to be fed, wanted death. Greater than that hunger, though, was the fear of giving into it. Could she do it alone? What if she didn’t have the control yet?

  “Plus,” she added, shoving a hand into her hair, “I’m not sure it’s a good idea to go out there to hunt when I’m the one who’s being hunted by—oh, just the entire witch community, a psychotic duho-creep, and apparently some other demons or who-the-hell-knows what, out to nab me because I’m a successful experiment of some sort.”

  “You know,” Dima said, “I wish I could give you a boost, but I’ve got just about enough to feed Tori later. She can’t make a kill while she’s pregnant, so…”

  “I’ll give you duh.” Yuri virtually bounced on the balls of his feet.

  Lily eyed him. “Are you sure? I don’t want to inconvenience you…” And I don’t know how I feel about taking breath from someone who’s barely legal. She inwardly grimaced and looked to Dima for help, but he’d taken out his phone and was busy typing on it.

  Yuri skipped closer, his aura vibrating, his face eager. “I’d love to. It’s no inconvenience at all.”

  “Um.” She cleared her throat. “I don’t know…”

  Her mind kept bringing up images of the only male she’d ever want to share that special intimacy with. A pang of longing twisted her heart. It wasn’t like she could just go ask Alek if he’d give her duh. Considering the way she snubbed him recently, it wouldn’t be fair to ask it of him.

  Can’t have your cake and eat it too.

  The dark hunger inside her coiled tighter, made her heart race, and sweat break out all over her. Her hands shook, light-headedness making her dizzy.

 
“Please,” Yuri said, “let me help you. Accept my duhodar.”

  Aw, damn, now he was looking at her with those earnest, adoring eyes…eyes that showed none of the maturity of his older brother, none of the power to make her knees wobble. She bit her lip.

  Taking her hand, Yuri stepped closer. “You’ll honor me.”

  The vicious hunger bit at her from inside her skin. “Well…okay…”

  Yuri leaned toward her. Young as he was, he still topped her by several inches, so she had to crane her head back a little to look up at him. He cupped her face with one hand, warm and comforting, though not the least bit arousing. As well it shouldn’t be. If she found him hot at all, she’d have issues.

  She closed her eyes, the need to feed shredding her from the inside. Her lips parted. Yuri’s body heat brushed her skin.

  A bang, and then a gust of chilly night air blew against her back. Her eyes flew open just as a storm of pissed-off male yanked Yuri away from her. The next second, Alek hauled her into his arms, his breath a touch winded, as if he’d run here from a distance, his body hot and hard and devastatingly perfect against hers.

  Eyes afire with sparks of red on black, he cradled her head with a gentleness at odds with the naked hunger that was so palpable it almost bit her skin. “I know you want space, and I’m trying to give you that, but fuck if I let anyone else feed you.”

  His mouth crashed down on hers, and then there was nothing but heat, brutal need, and a passion so stark, so consuming, it razed her down to her foundations. She grabbed on to his shoulders and gave as good as she got, devoured him as much as he did her.

  When she felt the tingle of his duh on her lips, her tongue, she licked at him—and pulled. His life force flowed into her with a rush of invigorating warmth, spread out into every last cell of her body, setting her aflame. Pleasure a buzz in her blood, she pressed herself against him, wanting to wrap his heat and power around her.

  She took all he offered, until he stepped away, his hands on her hips, breath heavy and fast.

  Those eyes of fire and night met hers. “You need duh, you come to me.”

  And then he let her go and walked toward the door, leaving her shaking with a need that had nothing to do with duh, and everything with the male who’d just kissed the living daylights out of her. She felt the loss of his warmth, his touch, like a physical hurt.

  Good gods, I have it bad.

  “Alek…” she said on an impulse.

  He paused, looked over his shoulder.

  Her phone rang, making her wince.

  “You should answer that,” he said in a tone so quiet it stung her.

  Breaking eye contact with Alek, she accepted the call from Merle. “Hey, what’s up?”

  “Lil, I have some good news and some… Okay, screw this, it’s only bad news. Sorry.”

  Her heart hammered in her chest. “There will be no more seasons of Portlandia?”

  A sigh on the other end of the line, carrying all the dejection of someone who’d tried until their mind bled—and failed. “We found the right spell to turn you back. It should work well, even without more detailed knowledge about the magic used…”

  “Tell me the but.” Her fingers numb from her death grip on her phone, Lily turned her back on the three male demons still in the same room, and walked over to the side window.

  “We’re missing one vital ingredient to brew the reversal potion.”

  A chill went down her spine on icy spider feet. “Don’t tell me it’s Donald Trump’s toupee.”

  “I don’t think he even wears one.” Another sigh, the rustle of book pages. “It’s a stone, a kind of crystal. It’s called nymphenstern, and looks simple, but is, like, one of the rarest types of gem ever. So rare that humans don’t even know about it. Apparently there’s only one place it was ever found, a mountain in the German alps, and it was mined out completely by dwarves three hundred years ago. Only a couple dozen stones were ever in circulation, and the last documented one was used in a ritual some twenty years ago. All of us here have been digging around among our resources, but the collective knowledge of witches, demons, and every otherworld creature we’ve asked is that there’s not a single unused nymphenstern left.”

  Lily trembled, inside and out. “What do you mean by unused?”

  “The stone naturally holds some magical properties, but when it’s used, those powers are drawn out of it, and the stone’s color changes from pink to black.” She paused, let out a heavy breath. “We need an unused one for the reversal potion.”

  Which meant that—

  “I’m sorry, Lil. There’s no way we can brew the potion to turn you back.”

  I’ll never be a witch again. The shock, when it hit her, knocked the wind out of her, arrested her breath like the most expertly thrown solar plexus punch. She grabbed the window sill to steady herself when the floor wobbled. Or was it her legs that were wobbling? The room shrank in on her, and her vision pinpointed to the small scratch in the wall she was facing.

  Somewhere on the periphery of her senses, the sound of her phone thudding to the carpeted floor registered. Merle’s voice sounded frantic on the other end of the line. Inside her, the hollow that used to hold her witch magic throbbed with excruciating emptiness. Her fucking soul ached. If she thought it was bad after she’d been turned into a demon, it was nothing against the pure, unadulterated despair of knowing for sure that she’d lost her identity, had lost what had shaped her all her life.

  And she’d never get it back now.

  She’d been able to deal—with the generous help of Alek—with being a demon so far, because the buoyant hope of it being temporary had kept her afloat. What composure she had been able to maintain crumbled in the face of the stark reality that she’d remain a demon, the choice taken from her.

  She’d have to live out the rest of her life as a duhokrad female, killing to survive. A demon, cut off from her family’s bloodline, hunted by her former community. Since she couldn’t turn back, she’d never be able to face Juneau and her followers in a fair trial, as a witch. They’d prosecute her as the demon she’d become, and no way would the verdict fall in her favor.

  Never would she be able to walk among her peers again.

  Heart splintering under the implications that just kept on rolling over her in a massive avalanche of loss, her mind locked on to the one thing she could hold on to, the one person whose presence in her life even now soothed the violent waves of despair in her. Alek. He’d been there for her all this time, had taken care of her even after she’d pushed him away.

  Visceral need for him made her turn around, her heart already reaching out to him—to find him standing in the open door, his face set in harsh lines, his aura a maelstrom of patterns too complex, too rapidly swirling for her to decipher. He shook his head when she opened her mouth to speak.

  “Don’t,” he rasped.

  The next second he was gone, the door closing behind him.

  Alek’s heart beat triple time while he jogged away from Dima’s house, leaving Lily as distraught as he’d ever seen her. His every impulse screamed at him to turn back, to do his damnedest to wipe that expression of despair and mourning from her face, to alleviate the pain she was feeling. To make her happy.

  And yet, to accomplish that, he had to leave.

  Because, while he stood there listening to what Merle told her on the phone—thanks to his demon hearing, he’d heard every word—as he watched all color and life drain from Lily’s face, her aura flood with cold, cold shock, he understood what his twin had tried to tell him. True love is caring about someone else’s happiness more than your own.

  “I get it now, Dima,” he muttered when he reached his driveway, hopped into his truck and started the engine.

  Lily’s happiness didn’t lie with him. It hinged upon her turning back into a witch.

  That was her heart’s desire, the one thing she wanted, needed, more than anything else. He’d only realized how much it meant to her when the
news she could never have it crushed her like a landslide. To watch her heart break right in front of him because she lost all hope for turning back—that had broken his heart.

  Lily, his strong, resilient, bounce-back-swinging Lily, reduced to tears and crumbling dreams, her soul smashed by an inescapable alteration she didn’t choose. His blood roared with anger at her pain, the need to make it better a pulse underneath his skin, driving him on.

  For the first time in his life he truly understood the selflessness mentioned so often when people spoke of love. The desire to see Lily smile again, overwhelmed with joy at being able to turn back into a witch, the need to give her what she so desperately wanted, eclipsed the possessive urges inside him that pushed at him to swoop in, press his advantage, and make her mate with him. Now she knew she had to remain a demon, she’d probably agree. But it wouldn’t make her happy, not the way regaining her identity as a witch would.

  And so he’d fulfill her heart’s desire, even if it broke him.

  Because he knew where to find that fucking stone Merle talked about, and he was going to get it for Lily.

  Chapter 20

  The stench of fear permeated the air, so acrid it turned Drake’s stomach. Never mind that it was his own.

  Above him, the single bare bulb hung from the basement’s ceiling, every now and then swinging with the vibrations of the people walking on the upper floor. Sometimes, when someone banged a door above, fine dust would drizzle down on his sweat-slick, blood-encrusted skin.

  I’m fucked. That realization should have been a given when Seth’s men grabbed him, but he’d held on to the sliver of hope that maybe he’d be able to escape later. He looked again at the magic-infused manacles shackling his arms and legs to the metal table. Yeah, not very likely.

  The door to the basement opened, and warm light spilled in, before a shadow blocked the view of the hall beyond. The duhokrad male closed the door, and his heavy footsteps thudded on the stairs while he descended into the basement.