Touch of the Demon kg-5

by Diana Rowland

  Idris and I finished shutting everything down and cleaned up residuals. After a few minutes the two syraza disappeared with Gestamar. I grinned over at Idris. “Dude, we kicked ass.”

  He gave a whoop of delight in response.

  “Recalling the blade will be a walk in the park after this.” I laughed as I said it, yet at the same time, I meant it. We’d worked superbly as a team. Even if Rhyzkahl showed up, we could handle him.

  Still grinning, Idris loped over to the big rock to retrieve his shirt and boots. Mzatal sat cross-legged where Gestamar had lain, head lowered. I crouched beside him and slipped an arm around his shoulders.

  “Hey, you okay?”

  “I am tired,” he said without lifting his head, and for an instant I had the impression that he spoke of a fatigue that went far beyond the physical, a weight comprised of millennia of schemes and plans and plots. I had to resist a sudden weird urge to stroke his hair back from his face, which made no sense since it was still perfectly braided as always.

  “C’mon, Boss,” I said, taking his hand. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

  Mzatal remained utterly still for another moment, then squeezed my hand and stood. “Were it all in your control, Kara Gillian, I would know that to be the truth.”

  “I’m a tenacious bitch, remember?”

  He began to smile, then abruptly straightened and turned fully to the beacon diagram, grip tightening on my hand.

  My fatigue dropped away as excitement flared. “Did it find it? Is it working?”

  He didn’t answer, barely even breathing as he kept his full focus on the beacon. A few seconds later the ritual flared, the sigils carved on the columns flickered to life with a faint blue glow, and a single clear tone sounded.

  I sucked in a sharp breath as the tone seared through me, seeming to set every cell in my body alight. The sensation faded after a few seconds, though I still felt a bit strange, as if someone was watching me from the inside.

  Idris came up beside me, face alight with wonder though he didn’t seem as flattened by the tone as I was. Then again, I was the focus, the one who’d be calling the blade. Made sense that it would hit me the hardest.

  Mzatal released my hand and draped his arm over my shoulder. “Rhyzkahl knows now.”

  I nodded. Mzatal had warned us earlier that the beacon would be impossible to hide. “When do we go?”

  “Tomorrow. We will arrive at Szerain’s palace at dawn.”

  I smiled. “Does this mean I can take a bath tonight and sleep in a real bed?”

  He dropped his gaze to me, gave me a smile haunted by concern for Gestamar and possibly more. “Yes. We both need—” He took a deep breath. “Yes. Bath and rest for you.”

  “You need to sleep too,” I said with a glare, though I had to admit, he already looked way better than while Gestamar was gone. “Make tonight your weekly nap.” I swept my gaze around, taking in the beacon ritual and the disturbed sand that was all that remained of the battle for Gestamar. “This is going to work. We’re a damn good team. I mean, look at what we just did. We kicked those asstards in the goddamn balls.”

  A measure of the morose pall seemed to lift from him. “Yes, it was truly harmonious.”

  “Harmonious asskicking,” I said. “It doesn’t get any better than that.”

  Chapter 40

  I came fully and suddenly awake, as if a switch had been thrown, then lay perfectly still, listening and cautiously sensing with othersight as I tried to figure out what had roused me so thoroughly. A light breeze drifted through the open balcony doors, bringing with it the scent of the sea and of the demon-realm equivalent of pines. Far in the distance some sort of night creature called and received an answering cry. It was still full night, but the moon was higher in the sky than when I drifted off. I’d been asleep for a few hours at least.

  But nothing seemed amiss. None of the wards had been tripped. No intruder or danger, as far as I could tell. Mzatal wasn’t in the bedroom or bath chamber, and I didn’t sense his presence in the main room. I looked to the balcony, but I didn’t see him in his usual spot by the railing either. Most likely he was with Gestamar, or in the summoning chamber, in final preparations for the morning.

  The grove shimmered in the distance, casting a scintillating aura of green, purple and gold unlike anything I’d ever seen from it before. I pulled the sheet from the bed and wrapped it around me as I moved out to the balcony. When I reached the rail, I tucked the sheet a little more securely, then spread my hands on the cool stone. The starry sky glittered in a cloudless expanse above, and the moon drifted high, half full. I gazed across at the curiously activated grove and carefully extended, touching the semi-sentience, gently exploring its ancient power and beauty. It responded in kind, extending questing tendrils. Still and silent on the balcony, I communed with the grove, pulled power and let it flicker over my skin in green and gold iridescence.

  My understanding of it grew, as did my grasp of how to best use its potency, and, most importantly, how to control it. It wasn’t “mother nature” or “Earth power” or anything like that, but more like a strange, alien power source that had been nurtured and shaped by beings long gone from this world.

  And how long will I be gone from my own world? I allowed the feelings to rise of how homesick I was, how desperately I missed my aunt and all my friends. I swallowed against the lump in my throat and felt the grove respond like a song in my essence. “I miss them,” I whispered. Its potency swirled around me whispering back. Though I couldn’t translate what it said, I knew what it meant for me to do. Inhaling deeply, I gathered more power, enough to coalesce into a radiant orb before me.

  I want them to know I’m safe.

  Lifting my arms, I pulled the power into a tight coil, breathed my wish into it, then released it and watched it disperse across the balcony and to the grove and beyond in a transparent shimmering wave. Slowly the grove subsided to its usual softly glowing quiescence, though I still vibrated with the energy.

  After several minutes the power settled to a gentle and peaceful resonance, and I shivered in the faint chill of the night breeze, unnoticed while I’d communed with the grove. Smiling, I turned and headed back inside.

  Three steps in I stopped dead in my tracks.

  Mzatal stood at the end of the bed, radiating potency, and without a trace of the earlier weariness. He wore only his robe: sumptuous deep red silk with sleeves and hem adorned in intricate silver stitching. His thick braid hung over his right shoulder, and, as I stared, he deftly unwound the silver cord that bound it. His eyes stayed on me as he dropped the cord and ran his fingers though the bottom half of the complex braid, separating the shining black strands.

  My pulse made a weird double-beat. I’d never ever seen his hair unbraided.

  “You are exquisite,” he murmured, gaze devouring me as he slid his fingers through the twists of hair, freeing more of the thick fall until it hung loose below his shoulder. I took a slow step toward him, heart pounding at the effect those three words had on me.

  Mzatal lowered his head, eyes intense as he lifted his arms and reached back to unweave the last of the braid. His robe parted as he did so, and…yeah. He ran his fingers through his hair, then shook it out over his shoulders, gaze never leaving me.

  “Exquisite,” he murmured again, and I damn near forgot to breathe. Unbound, his hair hung past his ass in a perfect, rippling fall straight out of a shampoo commercial. Holy shit, but he was gorgeous. Not beautiful like Rhyzkahl, but hot and male and…wow.

  I let the sheet fall to the floor. It was a totally cliché move, but, yep, had to be done.

  Mzatal smoothly shrugged off the robe and dropped it onto the chair beside him. The air between us crackled with the potency he held and the grove power that still hummed within me. His eyes traveled over my body as I slowly moved toward him, every inch of my skin tingling in acknowledgement of his gaze.

  He closed the distance between us, cradled my face in his hands the
same way he had when he’d kissed me to place the recall implant. The tip of his erection brushed my belly as he murmured something in demon.

  “Goddamnit,” I said in a rough voice. “Kiss me already.”

  Smiling, he did so, gently at first, then with more intensity. There was nothing pure or weird about this kiss, and that was damn fine with me. His hair fell over us as he held my head with one hand and slid the other to the small of my back. He pulled me close against him, erection hard between us as he near growled into the kiss. I knew I didn’t need to ask him not to get me pregnant. Not only did I know in my essence that he would not without my permission, but I had my own means now, my own power to make certain of such things.

  Groaning low, I skimmed my hands over his hips and back to cup his ass. His glutes tightened deliciously in my grasp as he rocked against me. His hand tangled in my hair, holding my mouth to his in an uncompromising assault on my senses. I welcomed it eagerly, moaning with pleasure.

  His other hand moved to cup my breast, caught my nipple between thumb and forefinger and lightly squeezed. My breath quickened, and a low whimper escaped my throat. My hands stroked up his back, heat rising in my belly at the play of muscle beneath his skin. I reached higher and fisted my hands in that glorious mane.

  Mzatal broke the kiss, breath shuddering as he throbbed between us. I smiled and raised an eyebrow. The big bad scary mofo demonic lord liked having his hair pulled? I tightened my grip and he groaned in response. I chuckled low in my throat, ridiculously pleased that I’d discovered something that could fire him. Despite all the time I’d spent with Rhyzkahl, I couldn’t name a single thing that I knew turned him on or fired a deeper reaction. He’d always been in perfect control, never revealing himself. That Mzatal would open himself to me like this touched me deeply. Desire lit his eyes as they met mine, and he smiled, acknowledging.

  In the next heartbeat he lifted me as if I’d never eaten a donut in my life, near shoving me onto the dresser, then dropped his head to my right breast. Heat flared through me as his teeth found my nipple, and I gasped in a breath. I’d found one of his buttons, but he sure as hell knew what mine were, too.

  “Mzatal,” I groaned and wrapped my legs around him. He was thick and hard and more than ready, and holy shit I wanted him inside me. He continued to suck and bite my breasts, wringing a variety of incoherent noises from me. I clutched at his hair, grinding against him, my breath coming in ragged gasps. “Come on, damn it.”

  He lifted from my breasts, gaze smoldering as he positioned against me. Passion, dangerous and heady, seethed behind his eyes. Both hands slid down to grip my ass, yet maddeningly he still didn’t pull me onto him. Instead, he bent his forehead to mine, went perfectly still for what felt like forever though it was probably only a second or two. The physical retreated, and we entwined in utterly silent dreamlike spaciousness, the whole universe too small to contain us. Timeless. Transparent. He lifted his head from me, and the glorious sensations rushed in again, intensity and awareness impossibly heightened.

  In a swift motion, he pressed in hard to full depth and held me there while I whimpered, nearly overwhelmed by the sensations and need.

  A smile curved his mouth, and his hands tightened on my ass as he began to thrust, pulling me onto him with each deep stroke. I locked my legs around him, urging him on. His potency resonated deep within me, echoing with elusive familiarity. Instinctively, I touched the grove, pulled that power to meld with his, then sucked in a sharp breath as everything about him leaped in response. Our potencies merged in exquisite perfection, like the tone that sounded when a ritual came into alignment, but more. Every sensation, every movement, every mental touch snapped into breathtaking clarity.

  Mzatal tangled a hand in my hair, pulled my head back to nuzzle my neck as he murmured something in demon. The meaning of it wound through me as he began to thrust with greater urgency. I have missed you. And I did not know anything was missing.

  Yeah, I had what he was missing. And he sure as hell had what I wanted. Yet even as I thought it, I knew there was so much more to it than this moment of physical pleasure, and that knowledge spiked it all even higher. I made a low guttural noise as I wrapped my hands hard in his hair. His breath hissed as I pulled, and he thrust harder, which was pretty much the reaction I was hoping for. “Yes,” I gasped. “More.”

  He was happy to oblige, grip uncompromising as he drove into me, deep cries accompanying each thrust. The scent and sound of him wound through my senses, and the feel of his skin was like a thousand points of familiar pressure. A coil of heat writhed in my belly, fired by the combined potency and his ardent attention.

  He spoke in demon again as he shuddered against me, driving deep. Come home to me, beloved. Come home.

  “Fuck…oh, hell yeah,” I gasped. Not as poetic, but it got the point across. It only took another few seconds before I tightened my legs spasmodically, crying out as I clenched around him. Waves of shuddering pleasure expanded into limitless space, rebounding and shaking me again and again. A deep cry ripped from his throat as I climaxed, and in three more thrusts he released as well, throbbing deep within me as we mingled, merged and complete.

  My breath came in uneven gasps as he slowed. My hands clenched and unclenched in his hair. I pulled him close, then nuzzled the crook of his neck as our combined potency thrummed between and through us.

  Still within me, he shifted his grasp, slid his hands up my back to hold me close.

  “Zharkat,” he murmured as he nuzzled my neck. A nameless thrill went through me. Beloved.

  Straightening, Mzatal lifted me from the edge of the dresser, then held me firm in his arms, keeping me deliciously impaled upon him as he moved to the bed. I kept my legs tight around him as he lowered me to the soft quilt. He looked down at me with a smile that lit his entire face and kissed my forehead, eyes and cheeks, before lowering his head to nuzzle my neck. Already he was hard within me again, and I made a pleased sound in the back of my throat as I arched into him. There was a lot to like about the stamina and quick recovery time of demonic lords, and Mzatal had no problem demonstrating exactly how easily he could bring me right back up to the peak. His hands and mouth and cock worked me into a gasping frenzy that had me begging for yet another release. With merged potencies and deep passion, we carried each other to new realms. In the end, we collapsed together in a glorious tangle of limbs and hair, spent and shuddering and smiling.

  At long last I caught my breath and regained the ability to speak. I grinned over at him where he lay propped up on one elbow beside me. “Thanks, Boss.”

  Mzatal laughed, stroked fingers down my cheek. “I am forever dubbed thus.”

  “Yep, you’re stuck with it!” I said, then gave a languid sigh as my body hummed delightfully with pleasure and potency.

  He shifted and swept all his hair over his shoulder. I eagerly reached out to slide my fingers through the silky mass. “There is time yet for sleep,” he murmured with a smile, skimming a hand over my breasts and down my belly.

  My loins tightened at his touch. I could get used to this merged-potency-multiple-orgasm-thing. “I’m not sleepy at all,” I said with a sly grin.

  He raised an eyebrow, then his face mirrored mine in a smile. “Wrap your hands in my hair again, and I will do…bad things…to you.”

  I gathered a handful of hair, tugged. “How bad are we talking?” I asked. I tugged again, harder.

  He closed his eyes briefly, muttered a sentence in demon that meant something along the lines of holy fucking shit it feels good when you do that. His reaction sent my pulse racing and heat rushing to my naughty bits.

  “Bad,” Mzatal murmured. “Very very bad.” He shifted between my legs and pushed my thighs apart, lowered his head to me. I groaned and wound my hands in his hair, kept my grip firm as he did bad things that made me cry out and scream and clench in very good ways. Once I recovered, I proceeded to do bad things to him, which he seemed to find just as good.

  Even
tually we lay limp against each other, spent and sated. He wrapped his arms around me, held me close until our breathing slowed, then turned me to my right side and shifted to lie behind me. He dropped his left arm over me, reminiscent of how he held me during the confrontation with Rhyzkahl, pulled me back against him and snuggled his head over mine. “Zharkat,” he murmured.

  I smiled, content. “Boss.”

  He laughed—a free, beautiful sound—and held me close as we both slipped into sleep.

  Chapter 41

  I opened my eyes to sunlight and the distant song of unknown creatures greeting the morning. Above me the stars of the domed ceiling still twinkled. Languor and deep peace drifted through me, and I smiled as I felt an arm draped across my hips and a black curtain of hair spread over my breasts.

  He stayed, I thought in delighted wonder. He stayed and slept with me. I shifted very carefully to face him. Mzatal had dozed in the chair less than a week ago, so I knew he’d chosen to sleep with me. Rhyzkahl had never made that choice, even when I asked him to. As I looked upon the sleeping lord, I realized I’d never doubted that he would.

  And he was, indeed, asleep. I reached and stroked his hair back from his face, wanting to see how he looked in repose.

  Beautiful. He breathed deeply and evenly, face relaxed and carrying none of the controlled mask that he usually wore, whether smiling-controlled, or scary-mofo-controlled. For the first time I felt as if I had a glimpse of the true Mzatal, and I reveled in it.

  I coiled a lock of hair around my finger while I reflected on, well, everything. I cared for Mzatal quite deeply, yet I knew this wasn’t any sort of “romantic” love. It was far more than that. I didn’t have words to explain it, and didn’t feel any need to do so. It just was. Even if we never slept together again, we’d always have this amazing shared closeness.