Bat Out of Hell (Promised to the Demons Book 2)

by Lidiya Foxglove

  "Considering how long it took him to save me from being a monster, Bevan’s right. I don't think it'll hurt him one bit," Jameson said. "Let's let him stew and in the morning we'll get him a nice hot breakfast and check on him. Don't worry about a thing, Jenny. We'll take care of him, but..." He started wiping the stage makeup off his face. "How ugly a monster is he?"

  "Personally, I think bat monster is a very attractive look," Bevan said.

  I didn't know how to answer.

  He's not an...ugly monster. No, I might call him fearsome, but not ugly. But he isn't himself anymore. And it’s a terrible feeling to be denied your own self.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jenny

  Bevan got a warm fire in the hearth and heated a tea kettle to offer me chamomile before bed.

  "You've had a hell of a night," he said, handing me a cup with orange peel, honey and a little milk added. "I'm sure you're exhausted but your mind must be racing."

  "I really thought you might be mad at me."

  "Why would I be mad at you? Because you made the enemy of my family into an Adonis?"

  “It’s not a joke."

  “It’s pretty funny, though.” He smiled at me. “And Piers looked so freaked out by it.”

  I took the tea but then put it down again. "I want out of these clothes before I enjoy this drink."

  "I've been waiting all night to get you out of those clothes. Because, of course, you look so uncomfortable. No other reason..." He spoke gently into my ear as he walked behind me and pulled a pin out of my hair. A lock fell on my shoulder.

  "I am uncomfortable."

  "I'm not that comfortable myself. My shoes pinch and this cravat is strangling me slowly."

  "So you also need some help."

  "Yes." He started unhooking the dress and as it fell to the ground I realized I had finally stopped noticing the sexy underwear.

  "Wow," Bevan said. "I didn't realize there was so much going on under there."

  "Or so little?"

  His warm hands spread over my thighs and snapped the tops of my stockings against my skin. His body, even more warm, pressed against mine, holding me close.

  "Get this corset thing off," I said.

  "Yes, ma'am." He gave my hips a little squeeze and then started un-popping another set of hooks.

  "I really worried you'd be jealous or something. I couldn't believe that was in my subconscious! I was just telling Piers that I was sure he could find love even if he was ugly. With someone."

  "You said that? Ouch."

  "I said he reminded me of Mr. Rochester..."

  "Who is that?"

  "From Jane Eyre."

  "Oh." Bevan shrugged.

  "Boys don't read Jane Eyre."

  "I didn't. Did Piers?"

  "Uh...yes. He did."

  Bevan laughed. "I would have bet he did. Well, I don't think I'll ever be the jealous type. Unless you give me a really, really good reason to be jealous. Like letting Piers or Variel do this..." He kissed the corner of my mouth. "Or this..." He slid down to suck on my nipple just to the point where I squeezed my thighs, feeling a sudden gush of wetness hit the insubstantial underwear. "Or this." I let out a little shriek of pleasure as Bevan pulled the strip of fabric aside and licked that very same wetness.

  "Ohhh...no...never." I clutched his shoulder, steadying myself.

  “Are you sure you haven’t been tempted by Daisy and her bond marriage?” he asked, after the briefest pause.

  “I—I would never think of it.”

  He cocked his head a fraction. “I can’t believe you haven’t even thought of it.”

  “Bevan, do you want me to think about it?”

  “I certainly want you to consider your options so that you know I’m really your favorite option.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say, as it sounded almost like he had thought about bond marriages himself in the last few days. But the only thing he’d been doing for the last few days was…spending all his time in the library with Piers.

  Hmm.

  "Spread your legs a little more, if you want me to go deeper,” he said.

  "Do I?"

  "You do."

  "Oh, I do..." My knees nearly gave out as his tongue thrust deep within my folds and quivered its way out of me again, only to curl back in, stroking every nerve I possessed along the way.

  Right now I didn't sense any of the demon inside him, and I was comforted that maybe I was only imagining things, because if he was going to get possessive with me, it would certainly be now. Instead, he was the opposite.

  Although Bevan certainly hadn't grown back to his original size.

  When I was about to collapse, he shifted the little strip of fabric that comprised the panties back over my very wet pussy and leapt back up to his feet, then hooked his fingers around the strings of the underwear and tugged me toward the bed. He sat down in front of me.

  "Help me get this off," he said, tugging at his neckwear.

  My fingers started working the knot, trying to figure it out. "This is tricky!"

  "Maybe the faeries like it tricky, but I don't."

  As I fussed with it, his hands cupped my ass and his fingertips gently stroked my skin, keeping me extremely in the mood. Once the necktie was loose around his neck, I popped a few buttons of his shirt and tousled his hair.

  "What?" he said, his eyes shining at me fondly.

  "I just like looking at you sometimes."

  We worked together to get the rest of his clothes off, and then my lingerie came last. Soon, we were nestled together in bed with the fire warming our skin. I opened my legs a little, inviting him in, and he certainly took the invitation, filling me up in one confident thrust. I wriggled a little to adjust the fit. At first, I always did miss when he was a little smaller, but then as I got used to his size, I was very glad.

  It had felt like such a long day that I savored losing myself in the pure sensation of him inside me and the rhythm of our bodies moving together in silent understanding. I could still look at him. His skin was always more beautiful by the fire, and my fingers played idly with his hair, pulling one lock after another into the wrong place and then putting them all back. Well, as much as curls ever behaved themselves.

  It wasn't long before we had both reached a climax, and it almost felt routine by now, but in a good way. I liked routines, but I certainly never had a routine like this back home. I would be very happy going to sleep like this every night forever, full and spent and glowing, with our bare limbs still tangled up together as he pulled a blanket over us both.

  "So we're doing this thing," Bevan said.

  "You're referring to the very dangerous voyage to the edge of the faery realm, right?"

  "Yes. I was just thinking how I could fly to the temple and you can't, unless you let me carry you in my toes."

  "I still don't think I'd like that."

  "You've seen that my bat form is definitely bigger than your toad form."

  “I would only trust you if you had hands. I wish I could see the temple, but if you're the only one who can get there, I trust you to report back."

  "Are you afraid of heights, toadlet?"

  "Yes, but flying people can't bother non-flying people about a fear of heights."

  "I wondered if we should bring Piers..."

  "He can't fly."

  "No, but he knows a lot of magic, and magic history, and magic languages."

  "Then, we probably should."

  "I wasn't sure if it would bother you."

  "It's much more likely to bother you!"

  "It should," Bevan said. He sighed. "I think I'm starting to like Piers. He has no charisma, so I don't know why, but he's very competent."

  "Competence kinda turns you on, doesn't it?" I said, giggling, because I knew that would make his sleepy head snap off the pillow.

  “I respect it."

  "You like my competence," I said. "And I'm not exactly a beauty queen."

  "Well, it's true that if Pier
s wanted to win me over, the best thing he could do would be to just do things and not complain, and that's what he did. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think we can trust him on this mission. Plus...his knowledge of mushrooms might have saved your life."

  "He never mentioned that."

  "Good," Bevan said. "That's how I know he's not trying to weasel his way into your good graces. So we'll bring him with us, and if shit hits the fan, we sacrifice him first."

  "Okay." I nuzzled against Bevan's shoulder. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders. I shut my eyes, but the thought of a dangerous sea voyage did make it a little harder to get to sleep. Plus, I was wondering if Piers would be mad at me for the spell and how he would treat me in the close quarters of a ship. And I wondered what Variel would do with himself.

  As I drifted into sleep, I had a dream of Variel sitting by the bed, looking down at me.

  Jenny…I believe I have made a terrible mistake and you will not have me as your husband now. In fact, I was trying to push you away because I didn’t think you would make a suitable wife. I am not a suitable husband. I don’t understand my fate. Most of all, I don’t understand how it is that I feel…as I feel about you. My body desires you, but I think my heart desires you more.

  I love you.

  I was feverish again, reaching for a hand. Only then did he take my hand in his.

  I’ll protect you. Lord Death is no match for Lord Variel.

  My eyes snapped open in the wee hours of the dawn.

  “It was a dream,” I whispered. “Wasn’t it?”

  I need to see him, I thought. I had no idea what I was going to say to Variel. I just felt a need to tell him…something.

  Hopefully, I would figure it out when we were face to face.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Lord Variel

  Uram was stripping the bed of sheets.

  "Stop that," I said, snapping briefly out of my stupor. "Don't steal the faeries' things. That will only cause more trouble."

  "It's winter, nearly," Uram said. "We'll catch cold."

  "I don't think I will. I barely feel the cold. And you're not going with me. Just pack my own things."

  Uram stopped and gaped at me, his mouth hanging open like the town fool. "Not going with you? But...what will you do?"

  "I will certainly survive." I was trying to keep my pride, to hold my head high, although even my horns had grown so heavy that an ache was radiating out of my neck. "I never needed any of you. Perhaps I have become soft."

  "You hardly own any things," Uram said, holding up the small bag containing what little I had brought with me that I hadn't already sold. “At least, not in this realm. I sure miss polishing all your silverware and brushing your coats.”

  "I am aware. But I want something to remind me of who I really am. Drape the bag around my neck...and then, please go. Tell Jameson and Gillian I don't want visitors. I'll leave this morning."

  "Sir...this is...absurd!" Uram said. "You are still the Devourer of Souls!”

  “Am I?” I said, rather to myself. Despite my best efforts to hold on to myself, I felt it all slipping away. The castle, the realm, the resolve, the power. And as it vanished, I glimpsed another truth beneath it all. A greater prize. It was beginning to call me with a louder siren’s song, but I feared I had lost that forever too, in my attempt to hold onto the Devourer’s legacy.

  “Don’t even say anything silly like that. We are your humble servants. We hardly know what to do without you. You can't just...shamble around the fae lands! You should take revenge on all of them. Strike fear into their hearts as your father would have done. Perhaps you could kidnap that loudmouthed little human witch who is married to Lord Cyrus and torture her until you are restored to your former glory."

  "Leave me!" I roared at him, so ferociously that a glass on the table rattled. "That is my order to you, peon, or I will eat your eyeballs!"

  Uram took a step back, and then another, until he was at the door. A tear trickled down his weathered cheek. "As you will it, my lord. You know where to find us."

  I was relieved to be rid of him, to face my grim circumstance alone. I met myself head-on in the mirror. It was too short for me, so I had to lean down to see my face, but what greeted my eyes was a soulless beast. My eyes were dead of emotion, only glowing like the fires of hell, framed by the dark pelt on back and shoulders that made me look more animal than man. My horns were twice the length and girth as before, and I supposed it would take a couple of weeks for my neck to develop the muscles to support them. The talons on my wings and the spiked tail would mean I could easily tear apart any prey I could catch. I would not starve. But I no longer had the dextrous hands to build fires, to write, to make tools, to string an instrument, and all the other things that separated the life of men from monsters.

  But this is how she sees me.

  Not civilized.

  Just a monster.

  That was the fact I didn't know to fight. Lady Knucklebones must have seen a future I had failed to grasp. I did not believe that the future was set in stone, but the hag had such a solid reputation as a seer that I knew I was to blame. Jenny had found me handsome and seen good in me, and I had made my choice to cause her pain so that she would hate me, and now I looked like a beast fit to be feared.

  The irony of it all was that I was sure my father would have loved this appearance, and the destructive capability of this form. He would have gladly ordered his slaves to serve him and gored them to death if they didn't comply.

  I could not seem to entirely banish the small clench of fear inside me, and something worse that I thought might have been loneliness.

  I was not my father, but I would, at least, leave proudly and accept these consequences.

  A small knock came on the door.

  I knew it was her without even asking. There was no one else who would knock in that way, just like her sweet voice. "Leave me, Jenny," I said.

  "Lord Variel...please let me in just for a moment," she said. "I know you were the one who sent me all those pastries."

  "The door is unlocked," I said. I would just let her in for a moment. My wings dragged on the floor and I lifted them, trying to figure out what to do with them.

  She entered, shutting the door gently behind her, and looked at me with an expression that was almost tender. She had such a sweet face that I understood how she must see me this way. Jenny never could have hurt anyone the way I had hurt so many.

  She was no longer dressed in the lovely gown that showed off her curves, but wore a plain dress of a brown checked pattern. She was still more appealing to me any than any showier female.

  "I think this is too much," Jenny said. "I never wanted you to be punished like this. I don't care what the faeries saw in my subconscious. Maybe they didn't even see it right at all."

  "Faeries cannot lie," I said.

  "Well, still. All I wanted was for you to just...tell me you were sorry."

  "But I did not," I said. "I have never said I was sorry for anything.”

  “You’re lying, aren’t you,” she murmured. “You told me you were sorry while I was too sick to remember.”

  Did she remember what I said to her? That I love her?

  “High demons don't apologize,” I said.

  She took a step back like she meant to leave, but she also looked like she wanted to yell at me. I was waiting for it. I realized that I wanted her to yell at me. I liked her angry face. I was seeing it more often these days, and to me, her anger was as much a prize as her sweetness. One mood brought the pleasure of testing and teasing, and the other was comforting to my deepest soul.

  "Variel," she said. "I think you're--"

  "Yes?"

  “I don't know how you've lived nine hundred years being this stupid and dense. For a second, we had something really wonderful. All of us together, working together, building your cabin...having something I always wanted. A family, with lots of conversation and laughter and teamwork. Maybe it sounds silly to a 'hi
gh demon', and it wasn't perfect, but...was it really so much worse than your gloomy castle in a swamp with killer fish and bugs, and servants who stole your stuff and ran away? You didn't really need them! You had people around who actually liked you. I liked you!" She took a deep breath.

  “A family,” I said heavily.

  “I guess you’ve never known how it feels to have a family that doesn’t just serve your every whim,” she said. “But I wanted you around. I did. I liked making food for you, not because I was your servant, but because I like to do it for the people I care about.”

  Her body was all tensed up, her hands in small fists that fidgeted, like they didn’t feel comfortable in such a pose. Her hands were more used to creating things.

  “I wanted to hurt you, Jenny. I didn’t want to get too relaxed in Etherium…or with you. My punishment is fitting for the way I behaved to you. I’m leaving now, and I think that will be for the best.”

  “I—I—I’m going to the Lost Isles, so I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again.”

  “Jenny—“

  “But don’t try and stop me either.”

  “I won’t.”

  She looked a little annoyed at that too.

  If we did marry, I suppose I would never know how to please her.

  But how I would have enjoyed trying…

  “Good-bye, Lord Variel,” she said.

  My body burned with the desire to chase after her, grab her, and tell her just how wrong she was. She had insulted my castle and tried to domesticate a demon.

  I didn't move, and not just because all I could grab her with were sharp claws, likely only to hurt her.

  Could it be that the hag saw this girl in my future because she speaks a truth no one has dared to speak before?

  I swallowed, knowing that deep within my soul, I carried a pain I never spoke of. My mother had died giving birth to me, and I had always feared it was because her body was too fragile to bear a demon. I cursed myself for having killed my mother, while wondering if she would have been kind to me, if she would have kissed me as a child or given me small gifts for my birthday. If anything would have been different.