by Bethan Tear
“Do it,” she gasped breathlessly, desperate to feel him inside of her.
She closed her eyes and heard him growl as he slid into her, all the way to the hilt, filling her completely. She moaned, opening up further to him, welcoming him and all the joy he could give her. She rocked against him and he moved in and out of her, with no steady rhythm, always keeping her surprised and satisfied. Growls vibrated in his chest as her eyelids fluttered with pure bliss. It almost sounded like a cat purring…or a tiger.
“Scream for me,” he demanded, his voice hoarse.
She writhed, body arching towards his, panting and moaning, crying out his name in the moment of ecstasy.
“No. I said scream…for…me.”
Her eyes flew open and with a whimper of panic she saw she wasn’t looking into Kaden’s enchanting, endlessly black eyes, instead the eyes that looked back at her were vicious, violent, with less compassion in them than the eyes of a demon.
“Chris?”
“Who else baby? Happy to see me, I see,” he sneered as he moved inside of her.
She tried to shove him away, her hands slipping on his skin, both of them slick with the sweat of their arousal. He was laughing at her, his laughter resonating around them, and she lashed out at him. He blocked it, gripping her wrist and squeezing hard enough to make her wince, he much stronger than her. The feel of him inside her, in her most precious and protected place made her feel sick.
He eventually gave her a reprieve and pulled out roughly, leaving her naked, humiliated, bruised and bleeding on the counter, tears streaming down her burning cheeks. There was no sign of Kaden. She had been abandoned, left alone with this monster.
With a sudden gesture Chris pushed her from the counter. She fell fast and hard, bashing her head on the concrete, landing amongst the peppers she had been chopping. Dizzy, her ears ringing, she heard his chuckling but all she saw was the bloody knife and she reached for it, determined not to be a victim again. She grasped the knife like a lifeline, holding it out in front of her, point first.
“Don’t come any closer,” she warned him darkly.
His lips peeled back from his teeth in a harsh, mocking grin, transforming the handsome features that had once charmed her to the mask of horror that haunted her dreams. He didn’t think she was brave enough to use the knife. She knew better. She was desperate, disorientated, naked, sore, violated and all she could focus on was defending herself. Kaden wasn’t there to do it for her. She had to do this on her own.
Chris took a defiant step forwards, before sauntering towards her, naked and confident, his swollen member smeared with her blood and juices, ready for sex again. She wanted to chop it off.
“I’m warning you!” her voice trembled and she slashed the knife in an arc, demonstrating that she was deadly serious.
He smiled again before lunging at her. She reacted on instinct, aiming the knife at his neck, slitting open his throat.
*~*~*
“Hazelle!”
Her eyes shot open and she sat bolt upright, almost head-butting the demon that had been leaning over her, shaking her gently. She shuddered, so cold despite the sheen of sweat that coated her skin, making her sticky pyjamas cling to her, her throat as dry as a desert. Sickness swirled in her stomach and she had to swallow sour bile, her head spinning.
Kaden sat on his haunches, watching her, his dark eyes troubled, almost concerned. His fingers stroked her arm softly, not seductively, and she knew that she had been screaming in her sleep. Her throat ached and there was a horrible sense of dread and a nasty twinge between her legs that was anything but pleasurable, reminding her of the brutal dream.
“What did I do?” Kaden asked quietly, refusing to meet her gaze when she was staring up at him, confused.
He must have thought she had been dreaming about him again. She had been at first, and it had been good, really good, before the dream had been hijacked. She supposed in a lot of ways he and Chris were very similar, not physically, but they both stalked and tormented women, they both wouldn’t take no for an answer and they had such a disturbing, uncompromising, inhuman gleam in their eyes when she defied them. The difference was that as much as Kaden had threatened her, as much as he had warned her, he hadn’t actually hurt her or forced her into doing anything she didn’t want to do. Whether that was due to the limitations of the summoning spell or because he was biding his time, she didn’t know.
She was about to leave the bed when he gripped her arm just above the elbow. She tensed impulsively, recalling the antique letter opener still under her pillow. When she looked over her shoulder she saw his eyes were tender, almost sympathetic, and more honest than she had ever seen human eyes be.
“Whatever it was it wasn’t real. I wouldn’t hurt you,” he murmured, and she believed him, deep down in her heart. The spell book had indicated how dangerous he could be, how devious, but also how devoted. He must have realised by now that the way to woo her was not to threaten or intimidate her.
“I know,” she replied quietly, not wanting to elaborate on the dream. She didn’t want to talk about Chris, afraid she might provoke Kaden. She’d made the excuse that the flowers had probably been sent to the wrong person, though she knew without doubt that they were meant for her and they had been sent by Chris.
Hazelle fled to the bathroom, locking the door behind her, turning just in time to vomit into the toilet. She was sick, again and again, until her stomach aching with emptiness, still heaving, dry retching as her head pounding and her eyes streamed. Eventually she collapsed against the wall, pressing her head against the cool tiles, waiting for the world to stop spinning.
There was a knock on the door. Thinking it was Kaden she called out weakly, “Go away.”
“Hazelle? Is that you? Are you ill?” the sound of her mother’s concerned voice came through the door. Hazelle groaned and closed her eyes, still woozy.
Mom knocked again.
“Hazelle, open the door.”
Hazelle climbed unsteadily to her feet, swaying, wiping her mouth. She flushed the toilet and took a sip of water before unlocking the door and opening it, leaning against it for support.
Mom was still in her nightgown, hair knotted from sleep and face free from make-up. She must have been worried, for she usually didn’t leave her bed without her face fully made up, especially when there was a hot-blooded male in the house. Her eyes softened when she saw the sorry state of her daughter.
“You look awful…do you want me to take you to the doctors?”
“No, I’m okay…now.”
“You don’t look okay,” mom's voice was disapproving as she narrowed her eyes in suspicion, “Did something happen between you and Kaden?”
“No, Kaden didn’t do anything mom. He wouldn’t,” Hazelle tried to reassure her, knowing in her gut it was true, as queasy as it currently was. Kaden couldn’t possibly make her feel as wretched as she did now. “It might be a stomach bug, or maybe something from the restaurant upset my stomach.”
“It was rather rich food,” Mom admitted, patting her stomach, “Gave me quite a bit of gas last night.”
“Good morning, Mrs Bryce.”
Hazelle could see Kaden over her mother’s shoulder, leaning casually against the door-frame, his underpants fortunately in place but his chest bare and buff for all the world to see and admire. Hazelle’s mother actually blushed, something her daughter rarely saw her do, and she looked flustered as she turned, combing her fingers through her tangled hair.
“I didn’t see you there, Kaden. Hazelle isn’t feeling too well. I think its best she takes the day off work.”
Hazelle opened her mouth to argue. Mom held up a hand, silencing her.
“No. You don’t look well. I can’t let you leave the house looking like that.”
Hazelle closed her mouth. She must look as terrible as she felt. Kaden wasn’t looking at her; instead he was inspecting a photograph of Hazelle on the wall from her fourth birthday party, looking mildly int
rigued. Was she too disgusting to look at? She figured he hadn’t spent much time around women who smelt like sweat and vomit.
A clock downstairs chimed the hour of eight, making her mother jump.
“I’m going to be late for work,” she said hastily, “Watch her won’t you Kaden, and call me if she gets any worse?”
Kaden gave a sober nod and Hazelle opened her mouth to disagree again.
“No arguments young lady. I will call David and tell him you’re ill. Its fortunate Kaden is here to take care of you.”
Mom gave Kaden an appreciative glance.
“Stay in bed, drink plenty of fluids and I will call you at lunchtime, okay?”
Hazelle shrugged. There was no point in arguing with her mother, she was as stubborn as Kaden.
“I love you.” Mom kissed her forehead quickly before darting away, as if whatever Hazelle had was contagious. She gave Kaden a stern look before disappearing into her bedroom, closing the door to get changed for work.
Kaden still wouldn’t look at Hazelle.
“You don’t have to stay with me,” Hazelle said quietly, her stomach lurching as she spoke. Somehow she managed to keep it down, though she didn't know for how long she'd be able to.
“I don’t think I have much choice. Your mother would never forgive me if you died on my watch,” he sighed sardonically, and then with a mischievous smile she realised he was joking. Sometimes it was hard to tell when he was being serious. She couldn’t have been that ill, if he was still trying to rile her.
She rolled her eyes, something in her stomach rolling at the same time.
“Whatever. I’m gonna take a shower.”
Retreating into the bathroom she closed the door, leaving it unlocked this time, knowing Chris couldn’t touch her with Kaden standing sentry and Kaden wouldn’t want to touch her while she was so repulsive. She undressed and flicked on the shower, the sound of running water almost soothing. As she stepped into the shower she drew the curtain shut behind her and was eerily reminded of the old Hitchcock film, Psycho, where a woman was stabbed to death, naked and defenceless in the shower.
But in the dream it was she who had wielded the knife, she who had murdered someone, without hesitation, without remorse. Could she ever be so heartless, so ruthless, even in self defence? She stared down at her hands and envisioned them wet and sticky, coated with Chris’s blood, the blood that she had shed. Feeling nauseous again she closed her eyes and let the hot water wash away the blood, the vomit and all the badness from the dream down the drain. She felt slightly better when she switched off the water and stepped out, until she turned and came face to face with Kaden.
With a scream she snatched up a towel and pressed it against her, making sure it covered her breasts and nether region. Kaden was completely naked and in his element, every inch of his unblemished flesh tanned to perfection, his member already swollen with lust. It was even bigger than she remembered. He was smiling dangerously, his eyes entirely black, showing no hint of white, like they had been in the dream when his demon side came out to play.
The dream. Hazelle started trembling, her vision diminishing as she fell forwards. Kaden caught her and held her up, her legs suddenly so weak she couldn’t support herself. The towel had slipped and gave him a decent view of one of her breasts. She felt his engorged sex brush her thigh and shivered again.
“Just make it easy on yourself,” he whispered huskily in her ear, “And give yourself to me. It only takes one time, one good fuck and then I will be gone forever.”
She bit her lip and burst into tears. Kaden’s face showed naked shock, as if he wasn’t used to weeping, weak, sick women clinging to him, relying on him, needing him. In a way she realised that she did need him, and for the first time she was glad she had summoned him.
“That must have been some dream,” Kaden said awkwardly. He stroked her arm and held her gently too him, her damp breasts pressed against his warm chest, only the towel between his sex and hers.
Her teeth were chattering, her wet hair dripping on his chest and she couldn't stop shaking.
“You must really be sick.” He frowned down at her.
She nodded.
“Cold,” she sighed, her voice quivering, though she knew it was a lot more than that.
Kaden released her and took a corner of the towel. Feeling bashful she let him, and he peeled it away from her body, exposing her entirely. His face was impassive as he did so, his eyes dark and distant, betraying nothing. She didn’t know if he approved of what he saw or not. Over the years, decades, centuries he must have seen so many different women naked. How did she compare to any of them? She knew she wasn’t awfully unattractive but her breasts were too small, her legs too short, her thighs too chubby. Kaden was perfect, in every way, a man that could send women wild and wanton with desire. How could she feel anything except hideous when stood in the shadow of such a sex god?
“Let me take care of you,” he insisted, and there was something sincere in his voice that made her want to trust him.
Apparently taking advantage of ill women was not part of the job description because instead of using her nakedness and vulnerability to his benefit he dried her, ruffing her hair, rubbing her breasts and between her legs. He hadn’t been there before, except for in the explicit dreams, and she half expected his tongue to dart out and taste her. It didn’t. He was still a stranger to her, a naked one, and she was naked with him, with nothing to hide behind. She’d never found herself in more a precarious situation.
“Relax,” he whispered, trying to reassure her, “I won’t have my way with you today.”
And he kept to his word. When she was dry he wrapped a fresh towel around her, discarding the damp one. He lifted her into his arms, cradling her to his chest carefully, as though she were a precious doll, carrying her to her bedroom. He set her down on the bed as he rummaged through her drawers. She might have scolded him for that before, knowing his ulterior motive, but he was being so tender, so attentive that she found she didn’t mind.
He handed her some underwear and even averted his eyes while she put them on and then gave her a pair of clean pyjamas, soft and fluffy against her chilly skin. He positioned her between his muscular legs as he combed her hair, teasing out the tangles. His humid breath on the back of her neck was almost soothing.
When her mother called at lunchtime Hazelle had no reason to lie to her about her treatment. She had spent most of the morning cuddled up on the couch, watching dull daytime TV, Kaden bringing her steaming chicken soup and hot drinks. She didn’t admit it to her mom but she felt so serene in Kaden’s arms, despite how he could excite her sometimes and infuriate her most of the time. She knew that Chris couldn’t touch her when she was with her demon.
Because he was her demon, until that fateful time when he made her his for the night. She didn’t like to dwell on that, not when she was enjoying his company, not when he was acting so calm, so considerate so…human.
Mom told her to put Kaden on the line so Hazelle handed the phone to him, snuggling closer into his chest, his tawny skin warming hers through his shirt as he stroked her arm, almost absent-mindedly, as if he didn’t realise he was doing it. She felt every sweep of his skin against hers, the sensation giving her little shivers of delight. Kaden listened to her mother lecturing him; though her voice was too faint for Hazelle to hear every word, as she was sure he had with his super-human hearing when she had been on the phone.
Kaden made reassurances, said goodbye, and then hung up.
“What did she say?” Hazelle asked curiously, lifting her head of his chest a little.
“She said to take care of you,” Kaden mumbled, sounding slightly miffed. What was it with his unpredictable mood swings? How could he be so close to her one moment and so distance the next?
Demons were a most baffling race.
“I appreciate it,” she told him honestly, hoping to lure him back to her side, using her eyes as a leverage. She gazed up at him, eyes wide an
d open, letting him see how grateful she was for his care, letting him see everything she felt for him.
He looked away, swallowing uneasily, with a guilty expression on his face. Hazelle never thought she’d see Kaden nervous.
“Maybe this is a mistake,” he said in a low, sober voice, after a few moments of awkward silence.
She shook her head, tears in her eyes. How could he think that now? She’d thought the same thing herself once, at first, but there was something about Kaden that made sense to her, something that all the human men she’d ever known lacked, something extraordinary that she wasn’t ready to let go of yet.
“No. This isn’t a mistake. This is perfect,” she insisted, scrunching against him. He tensed. For a moment she thought he was going to push her away, reject her and storm out the house like he had before. Instead he relaxed, tightening his arms around her, her ear pressed against his chest. She could hear his heart beating, feel it pounding through her, slower and louder and more profound than a human’s. He was so different to her, in so many different ways, and she was still discovering new things about him, things that would disgust other humans, make them cringe, and cry and pray for salvation. Hazelle had moved past that, and there was something so exciting about exploring another species, another being beyond humans, beyond God himself.
Kaden had only the devil to answer to, and, for the time being, her.
Hazelle went to bed early that night, sleepy and peaceful, pleased that Kaden hadn’t pushed her away, physically and metaphorically. She had to wonder how many women he had nursed while ill, if any at all, how many he had cuddled with on a couch, how many he had comforted and made feel special, even if it was only for a day.
Then with a bitter sting she remembered that he was only after one thing and would do whatever it took to get it, even if it meant different tactics to those he usually employed. She knew she wasn’t like other women, but she hurt like a woman when she realised he was only going to use her and leave her.
She went to bed alone and hugged her pillow, crying quietly, wishing things could be different, wishing she wasn’t so pathetic, wishing the demon she longed for in her bed wanted her the same way she wanted him.