by Tiegan Clyne
It’s Lockwood. I nearly faint. I’ve never once believed in knights in shining armor, but I’ll certainly take this one.
I practically throw myself into his arms. “Yes, Professor. By all means.”
He nods to Cassim, throwing a silent ‘fuck you’ his way, before leading me onto the dance floor. He’s holding my left hand tightly in his right and I’m clinging to his shoulder with the other. His scent wraps around my senses, fresh and manly with just a hint of peppermint. It’s a scent I’ll never, ever forget.
We get to the other side of the room, pretty much as far away from Cassim as he can take us, when a group I didn’t expect to see darken our doorstep appears. Gideon, Cinder, Rapunzel and Aurora are all standing there in their party finery, all holding their masks in their hands, except for Aurora. I bet she’s nursing a painful black eye behind that flimsy mask of hers. We stop dancing, and Gideon steps forward.
“What brings you here?” Lockwood rumbles.
“We came to apologize.” Gideon looks at his female companions. “Didn’t we?”
“Yes,” Aurora drawls, looking at anyone but me. “We came to give our heartfelt apologies.”
Right. She’s going to need to have a heart first.
Lockwood isn’t any more convinced than I am. “Fine. So give them.”
Aurora steps forward and tells the wall behind me, “I am truly sorry for the prank and how we have embarrassed you in public on many occasions.”
Truly sorry you got caught, you mean.
Rapunzel is next. “Yes. Very sorry, Redera. It won’t happen again.”
Our headmaster agrees. “No, it won’t. Ever.”
Gideon says, “It was a childish and ridiculous prank, and I’m sorry, too.”
Cinder nods, pulling nervously at her gloved hands. “Yes. We all are. Very, very sorry.”
“And what of the other party that was involved? Where is Prince Erik?”
Lockwood inquires, looking around. He tuts. “Oh, of course. He wishes not to attend the ball or admit to his wrongdoing. I see. Very well, then. As for you lot…” He looks at me, and I guess it’s my turn to pretend to be magnanimous.
I nod to the group. “Apologies accepted.”
They look relieved and turn to the headmaster for acknowledgement.
He nods once. “You may join us. But if I so much as catch a whiff of a repeat performance, you’re all being sent home to your parents. Permanently. Do you understand me?”
Lockwood’s dominance is thrilling, and I clench my legs. Fuck, that is so hot.
“We understand,” they all answer.
“Then enjoy your evening,” Lockwood says, leading me onto the dance floor. “Now where were we, Miss Hemlock?”
My heart racing, stomach fluttering, I say, “Oh, you were just sweeping me off my feet.”
He gives me a strange look but says nothing.
Sensing that my comment made him uncomfortable, I change the subject. “So why did you really ask me to dance?”
Lockwood twirls me under his arm. “I merely saw a damsel in distress and was honor-bound to assist her.”
I snort at that. I’m no damsel and Lockwood’s no hero. That doesn’t mean that I don’t appreciate his intercession, though.
He keeps me at his side through two more songs. People are watching, tongues are starting to wag, and it’s not over my costume or beautiful wings. It’s because I’m dancing with the headmaster of this school. He must be aware of their eyes dissecting us into pieces.
I start to ask to be released when another man—another Lockwood—approaches me. He taps Lockwood on the shoulder.
“Excuse me. I’d like to cut in.”
The power streaming from this person is unmistakable and I can hardly believe what I’m feeling. This can’t be real. Everyone with the least sensitivity knows that someone extraordinary has joined us here, and a quick look at Cassim tells me that our covenmaster is perfectly well aware of who my new suitor is.
Lucifer has joined the party, but he’s wearing Lockwood’s face.
Literally. No mask. Just a perfect illusion that makes him identical to Lockwood.
The real Lockwood can feel the power rolling through the room in waves, and his eyes are wide as he steps aside to allow Lucifer to take me in his arms. My poor headmaster’s mouth is open with surprise.
My Unholy Lord guides me out into the middle of the dance floor and says mildly, “I heard that a certain young witch said that she belonged to a certain headmaster. That can’t be right.” He pulls me in tight. “Have you forgotten who really owns your soul?”
“I… it was… It was the heat of the moment,” I blurt out, flabbergasted. “I know that I belong to you.”
He smiles. “Perhaps you should tell that to your so-called Master.” His grip on my waist tightens. “Or do you need a reminder?”
The walls shimmer around me and the floor turns into a gold lake that ripples beneath our feet. The feathers on my gown catch fire and the flames dance as I move, but they do not burn me. It’s beautiful. He’s beautiful.
“I can be your fondest dream, Ravyn.”
He spins me around in a series of circles, and each turn alters the room. First the people vanish, then the buffet tables, then the music, followed by the room itself. We’re completely alone and everything, including color and sound, has been stripped away.
“Or I can be your worst nightmare.”
I look up at him, and he’s no longer Lockwood. Now he’s Broin. No mask, no formal wear, just Broin in his usual garb and me. We’re in the garden outside Hemlock Cottage, which is standing and intact. But the scene shifts just as suddenly as his appearance, and now I’m in the Church of Shadows, and he’s Cassim.
The air is taken from my lungs and I fall to my knees, gasping for breath. I’m naked and covered in blood, my wings ripped out from my back. Lucifer’s mark burns in their place, the fire searing through my skin, and the pews around me are ablaze. Burning in the flames are my loved ones, Grandma and Redera, Mom and Dad, Broin, Esmeralda, Sirena and Alice, and even Lockwood himself. Each of them is screaming and begging for mercy.
“Stop!” I curl up into a ball, weeping and begging for Lucifer’s help. “Please… please stop this.”
Everything vanishes like the morning mist before the sunrise.
The scenes and the cries, the endless, ear-splitting cries, are sucked up into a black hole as if someone just pulled the plug.
I open my eyes, and I’m cradled in Lucifer’s arms, back inside the auditorium before he took everything away. It’s just us. No fire or blood. No Cassim or misery. Me and Lucifer, his hand on my back, the other stroking my hair.
“You see, the choice is yours. Defy me and suffer. Obey me and everything will be good.”
I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. “I’m not defying you.”
“Are you sure?”
I don’t know what he’s getting at, but it’s frightening me. “I’m sure.”
He smiles. “Good. Because I have great plans for you, my dear, and I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”
That threat should fill me with fear.
It doesn’t.
Desire floods through me, and I look up at my Dark Lord. He straightens, looking down at me with his golden eyes. He’s never seemed more beautiful to me than he does right now. I want him with every fiber of my being. The need for him is like an ache in my body, one that will only get worse the longer I’m without him. It occurs to me that he’s probably manipulating me to feel this way, but frankly, I don’t give a flying fuck. It feels too good.
He’s no longer dressed like Lockwood. He’s now in his open robe, his perfect body revealed to me. His erection is growing before my eyes—literally—and I tip my head back to look up at him. He nods down at me, his hands on my head. I know what to do. I know what he wants.
He’s salty and sweet when I take the tip of his cock into my mouth, and I moan against him, my tongue pressed against the littl
e cleft at the base of the head. He puts subtle pressure on the back of my skull and I open my mouth for him. He thrusts into my throat and stays there until my mind is swimming with the need to breathe. Then he pulls back, letting me cough and sputter for a heartbeat or two before he plunges back in. He facefucks me until I’m seeing stars. The way my body instinctively fills with panic, clawing for air, is addicting.
Lucifer pulls me off his cock and up onto my feet. As my head clears, I realize my beautiful gown is gone, and he drops the robe from his shoulders. We’re standing completely naked in a dark bedroom. There’s a huge four-poster bed nearby, made from ebony wood and covered in black silken sheets. The posters of the bed are shaped like chained naked women, and as he leads me closer, I see that the women aren’t part of the carving. They’re actual people, but completely blackened and burned. Their eyes and mouths are sealed.
“Welcome to my home,” he whispers seductively. “Pay no attention to the damned.”
This is Hell?
He pushes me down onto the bed and lies beside me, his hands roaming my body. Everywhere he touches, my skin tingles, and I want him so badly it hurts. Literally. My pussy is aching to be filled with him, claimed by him, and the longer he’s not in me, the worse the ache becomes until I’m writhing in pain.
Lucifer finally kneels between my legs and rubs the tip of his massive cock against me. I whine, and he buries himself inside my greedy cunt. The pain passes immediately, replaced by mind-numbing pleasure. He fucks me fast and hard, and I wrap my legs around his waist, trying to take him deeper.
He’s changing shape again, his features shifting to his half-man, half-goat form. His cock changes to match, growing even larger. I moan in ecstasy, and his body slams into mine until the whole bed is rocking. I can hear moans that do not belong to us, whispers of sins and forbidden lust. Beautiful women appear and crawl onto the bed, their hands on Lucifer’s body, on my own, and everything is so intoxicating I can hardly stand it. I don’t really care what happens now so long as it keeps feeling this good.
Lucifer grabs my wrists and pins them to the bed above my head, holding them there with one powerful fist. He steadies himself with the other hand and starts snapping his hips. Each thrust pushes the air out of me, and my voice catches in my throat as I moan, reduced to nothing more than breathless pleas and whimpers.
He’s repeating something over and over, and it almost feels like an incantation.
“Mine,” he says. “Mine. Mine.”
The memory of Lockwood fucking me in the woods rises in my mind. “Marking my territory,” I remember him saying. The mental image dissolves and Lucifer shoots deep inside me, copious and scalding hot. I cum just a second later.
He takes my face in his hand and kisses me, and his tongue—long, narrow and forked like a snake’s—flickers into my mouth. He pulls back and looks into my eyes.
“Mine,” he repeats. “You tell your headmaster that.”
The room spins and everything changes. My dress appears When I blink, I’m standing in the middle of the dance floor again, surrounded by students and teachers from two magical academies. A hand touches my shoulder, and I flinch, realizing my beautiful wings are gone. I spin around and almost deck Christopher, who winces and pulls back.
“Are you all right?” He hands me a cup of punch. “Here. You might be overheated.”
“What?” I ask, bewildered and still trying to catch my bearings.
“You’ve been standing here for the longest time, and I was worried.” Christopher looks over his shoulder at Hansel and Gretl, who are wearing matching looks of concern. “I mean, you were shaking… Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” I lie.
“Who was that man you were dancing with?” Christopher asks. “He was dressed just like Professor Lockwood. That’s bad form at a party like this.”
“Yes,” Gretl says. “Now we don’t know which one of them you were really dancing with.”
I don’t want to talk to these people. I accept the punch and teeter away from them, my whole body shaking. I have got to sit down. I feel as if Lucifer has quite literally just fucked my brains out. At the buffet table, I find an empty seat, and I manage to collapse into it before falling over. My hands are trembling before my eyes. Sweet unholy heaven, what just happened?
Lucifer wasn’t sealing a deal the Satanic way. He was claiming me, point-blank staking claim on my body.
I clench my legs, wondering if it was all a dream.
A sudden gasp tumbles from my lips. I press a hand to my mouth to suppress any more from escaping. No, it wasn’t a dream. The pain from his ruthless fucking is in fact very real. Every inch of my body is throbbing like I’ve been thrown off a cliff only to be impaled on the jagged rocks. But there’s also pleasure—arising from his cum—suffusing through my veins. His magic is mixing with my own, stitching us together like a tapestry of darkness and desire.
I look down at my hands once more. They’re not just shaking this time. They’re on fire. I turn them over, mesmerized by the way the flames lick around my palm. I’ve never been a fire conjurer. I can create balls of fire from thin air. I can manipulate elements and bend them at will. But not once have I ever been on fire myself, let alone unscathed. This is both amazing and terrifying at the same time.
“Why did he give me this…?” I whisper, trying to think of a reason why Lucifer would have granted me this ability.
“Give you what?” Gideon demands.
The fire evaporates from my hands, leaving a puff of smoke that quickly vanishes. I lift my gaze to find Gideon standing beside me, his arms folded, stretching the limits of his suit. He’s wearing a mask that looks like a wolf’s head, and if I were feeling more like myself, I’d slap it off his face.
“Not now, Gideon,” I say, shaking my hands. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”
“Dancing with teachers? Yeah, we all saw that.”
I shrug at him. “And? Now if you’ll excuse me, I still have a list of suitors to dance with.”
“Pssht. Yeah.” He shakes his head, and I swear to Lucifer, I’m about to punch him through his mask. “You look like you’ve just been fucked into the middle of next week.”
“So what if I have?” I snap at him, standing up onto my feet. “I can fuck whoever I want, piggy. What is it to you? Or are you just plain old jealous?”
He steps forward, gritting his teeth. “I’m not jealous of a Darkblood.”
“Sure you’re not.”
With nobody looking, I grab hold of Gideon’s balls and squeeze them like ripe plums. He growls and seizes my hand. I smirk at him, then I slacken my grip and slowly stroke him with my fingertips. He’s already hard, just like I knew he’d be, and he breathes in through his teeth.
“Your dick tells me otherwise,” I purr at him.
A student walks up to the buffet table, followed by two others. I have no choice but to let Gideon go, and he’s quick to cover himself.
“You should go and take care of that,” I say, nodding to his erection. “Have fun.”
Before he utters a protest, I spin away from him. I’m done with my little piggy for the day. I reach out for something to eat, and I grin when my hand hovers over the pizza. I pick up a slice and take a large bite.
“Hungry, are we?”
I groan, turning around to face Damien. I’m not surprised to find him wearing all black. His shirt sleeves are rolled up, displaying some of his tattoos, and the top buttons are undone. His bronze skin is almost golden in the candlelight. He runs a ringed hand through his shaggy hair, grinning at me.
“Can’t a witch ever get a moment of peace here?” I grouse, lowering the pizza from my mouth.
“Don’t be like that, Little Red. I only came to say goodbye.”
The sound of my nickname on his tongue makes me shiver. I always liked the way he wrapped his lips around those two little words.
“Goodbye?” I repeat coolly, taking a small bite. I keep my eyes on him as I swallow it
down. “Where you going?”
Damien folds his arms and leans against the table. “Back to Nevermore, obviously.” Nodding to where Gideon had been standing, he says, “I watched your little display. Very impressive. You always did know how to make a dog heel.”
I shrug casually. “He’s just a toy to bide my time.”
“He’s a scumbag,” Damien snarls, “a rat that should’ve been flushed down the drain.”
I don’t know why, but those comments irk me.
“He’s not that bad. Do you know him?”
There’s a moment of silence. I use it to finish the last bit of my pizza, happy to discover the crust is stuffed with cheese.
“No,” Damien finally replies, pouring himself a glass of punch. “But I’m glad you haven’t lost your Darkblood nature. You know, on account of all your white magic now.”
I breathe in too quickly, eager to throw a comment back at him, but I end up choking on the bit of food lodged in my throat. Spluttering and coughing my lungs out, I lean over to catch my breath, my eyes watering, and I thump my fist into my chest. But nothing seems to be working.
Until a powerful hand thuds me once on the back, and the crust shoots out of my mouth and into Damien’s drink.
“Do be a gentleman, son, and fetch Miss Hemlock a glass of water,” Cassim orders, his hand still on my back. Gasping for air, I look up at him with tears streaming down my cheeks. A cruel smile plays on his lips. “I look forward to seeing you at church next week.”
“N-next week?” I choke out, my throat burning from all the coughing. “What for?”
The corner of his green eyes crinkle. “Satanalia, of course.”
Damien hands me some water, his eyes turned away from me. That’s what he was coming over to tease me about.
“Satanalia should have been this week,” I point out, as if he doesn’t already know that.
He gives me a feigned apologetic smile.
“Under the circumstances regarding your family, and with the Festival of Light occurring at the same time, the clan decided to postpone Satanalia until next Friday.” Digging just the tip of his fingers into my back, he leans forward to whisper in my ear. “No more excuses this time, Ravyn. Not even your foolish headmaster or huntsman will be able to save you from my wrath.”