
Forbidden Publications www.forbiddenpublications.com
Copyright ©2007 by Anastasia Rabiyah
First published in 2007, 2007
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DEMON IN THE BASEMENT
ANASTASIA RABIYAH
Copyright © 2007
Cover Art by ANASTASIA RABIYAH © 2007
Edited by DAWN THOMAS-JERLO---No copyright assigned.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system-except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the Web without permission in writing from the publisher. For information, please contact the publisher via regular mail.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
ISBN: Not Assigned.
Published by Forbidden Publications, OCTOBER 2007
Forbidden Publications
PO Box 153
East Prairie, MO 63845
www.forbiddenpublications.com
Emme found the demon in the basement, curled in on himself under a pile of crumpled newspapers. Someone had drawn a circle around him with a heavy layer of salt. She edged closer to the white, patchy line and frowned. With time, the humidity made the granules crust together. "I'll have to get down on my hands and knees and scrape it with a putty knife," she muttered.
The newspapers rustled and she saw one black eye in the shadows between the pages. A ticklish sensation ran down her skin, the length of her limbs and lingered in her breasts, perking her nipples. She gasped, startled. "Oh, not yet then," she whispered. "There's too much to do. I don't have time for demons right now." She twisted a lock of straight, black hair around her finger and let it go, the tendril falling back into place. The narrow woman spun around. She started sweeping again, trying to ignore the burning urge to stare at the being occupying the room with her.
The cobwebs in the corner of the basement were the worst part. Spiders frightened her. She squealed when a black widow scrambled across the dusty, wooden floor. "Oh, oh, oh!" she kept repeating. Behind her, the newspapers crackled, and she felt the demon watching, his hot gaze glancing over her backside like sweaty palms. Emme flailed her hands in the air to calm her nerves. She backed away from the black, eight-legged monster and rifled in the pile of discards for a container. Closing her eyes, she sucked in a dry breath, and twisted the lid off a jelly jar. Kneeling, she swept the spider into the jar with the dustpan, careful not to squish it. "There now."
She felt the demon's searing gaze following her up the stairs. When she crossed the empty parlor, the jar held at arm's length, the air became cold in an unnatural way. Ignoring the sensation, she exited the front doorway. Outside, she bent beside the pile of leaves she'd raked yesterday and let the black widow go. She turned her head and smiled at the basement window, wondering if the demon saw her, certain that he was trying to, and a little thrilled at finding him. Her father had rarely kept anything so extraordinary for long before he lost his temper and killed it.
She liked to think she was not her father's daughter.
The next day, Emme came stomping down the steps in her green rubber boots. She bent over to pick up the first moldy box of books. The humidity had eaten through the corner of the cardboard, and her pale fingers were soon slick with rot and moisture. She didn't complain, and set to work toting the mess up the stairs. There were two more just like the first. Each time she passed the demon, he moved to watch her, shifting the yellowed pages of forgotten newspaper that shrouded his broken body---she knew his body would be damaged. Her father had ruined everything he touched.
When Emme came down the stairs the third time that morning, she placed her hands on her hips and frowned. "I'll have to mop it," she muttered. "I hope you don't mind pine." She turned her gaze from the dusty floor and stared directly at the single ebony eye peering at her from the pile. The demon made a whispering sound.
"Can't talk yet? You forget how?" She shook her head at the creature. Emme rolled her eyes and shrugged. "You'll remember in time. Don't worry."
A crumpled piece of newsprint tumbled from the pile as the demon tried to get a better view. Two black eyes peered at her when she carried down the bucket of steaming mop-water. The eyes had no irises, or whites, or even blood vessels. They were two almond-shaped windows that watched her, much like a statue would.
"I didn't expect to find you here," Emme said as she wiped her brow. She glanced at the pile of papers and three more wads of paper tumbled down to the edge of the circle. "Not many like you left."
Claws tapped against the wooden floor.
The mopped swished and slobbered.
"I expect you belonged to my father?"
The claws thrummed faster and a snake-like tail unfurled itself, the gnarled knob of a tip thwacking against the floor just a half inch from the edge of the white circle.
"Don't you go on thinking about him." She placed the head of the mop in the murky water and took a step toward the hapless demon. "Pappa's dead. Been dead for three years now." She twisted her mouth to one side, thinking.
A larger section of rumpled newsprint fell away and Emme smiled at the demon's two curvy black horns. "Least he left you those."
His face emerged from the shadows, a horrible visage of scales and teeth. The demon nodded. His shiny eyes reflected no emotion. Claws clicked against the floor again, slower, gentler. A ripple of tension and heat caressed Emme like unseen fingers tracing her skin.
She reached down and grasped the white handle of the mop, picked up the bucket, and lugged it back up the stairs, her boots clunking all the way up.
On the third day, she came down the steps wearing pink, fuzzy bed slippers. Her nightgown reached to her ankles and blared in a lime-colored way. Her hair bobbled at the top of her head in a defiant knot. She got down on her hands and knees, gave the demon a glance to see if he still slept, and set to work. The yellow putty knife cracked at the circle of salt. Crust broke away, and she worked for an hour before the demon awoke.
He lifted his head and snarled a frightened smile. His tail thumped once then curled up against his chest.
"You look too small," she said offhandedly, still scraping away at the salt. "I suspect you're hungry." She looked up and regarded him. When he didn't answer, Emme sighed and went back to work. It took two hours to clear away the salt.
"Come out of there," she ordered.
The demon remained still. He curled his clawed hands around his body and hunkered down, trembling. Most of the newspaper fell away and lay in a disheveled pile around the black creature. His ribs stuck out, and his skin hung loose.
"Come on," she coaxed in a softer voice. "I won't hurt you." She held out her free hand to him and waited.
His eyes slid shut, and he quivered worse than before.
She waited a few moments more, then gave up. Scratching at the nape of her neck, she rose and walked across the basement floor, retrieved the broom and dustpan, and swept up the messy salt chunks. With that task complete, she went up the stairs, her fluffy slippers whispering to each. Not one to waste time, she returned with a fresh, steaming bucket of pine-scented mop water. She took the mop from her shoulder and set to work, cleaning up the remaining traces of her dead father's dark magic. "He was a mean man," she said as she sloshed the water back and forth. "That's why Mum took me away. I don't want to imagine what he did to you."
The demon whimpered.
"I need you to move now. I want to clean the patch you're on." She set the mop handle against the far wall and approached the forgotten prisoner. "I won't hurt you," she whispered. "I am my mother's daughter." Emme bent beside the demon and slid her warm fingers across the cold skin of his shoulder. He cried out in a child-like way, but remained there. Determined, she pressed her hand into his and gripped the demon's palm. Fire raged in her blood, a tide of passion that threatened to overflow. She fought the hold of the demon's magic, forcing words from her lips. "Not far, just over a little bit. I need to get things clean."
The demon stood, a scrawny, ill-kept thing that looked like he should have died ages ago. A tattered, leather loincloth covered his genitals and the line of his rear. Thick, lumpy scars stood out across his left butt cheek and ran along his back. Emme shook her head, sorry to see such cruelty. She led him a few steps further and then let go. The heat vanished, leaving an icy void in her heart.
"There now..." Her voice faltered. "Let me just mop ... this part and then we ... can go upstairs."
The dark demon curled up, clutching his shoulders. He started to rock back and forth, his tail tapping beside his cloven-hoofed feet.
Emme mopped away the traces of his prison. She dunked the mop head a final time and carried the bad water away. When she came back downstairs, she reached for the demon's hand, anxious to feel that delightful sensation, and stifled a moan when it overwhelmed her. She led him up the stairs with her. He followed in a hesitant manner, his eyes cast to the ground and his body in an eternal slump. She caressed his cold hand with her thumb and started humming.
The parlor where they emerged bathed the two in sunlight. No curtains adorned the two gaping windows in the massive room. A solitary oak bench stood by the door that led to the yard. The demon did not look up, she noticed, but moved along in his supplicating manner.
"Would you like a bath first?" Emme stopped and stared down at him. He tilted his head up so that she could just see the black of his eyes beneath his wide brow. "A hot bath with bubbles?"
The demon lowered his gaze and clutched her hand a little tighter.
"Bath it is then." The two walked through the hall. She smiled at the single, framed photo there. It held the image of her mother, encased in glass. Mum was dressed as a fairy on Halloween. She looked too thin and frail, with her deep-set, green eyes and her ivory skin. The fairy dress sagged in the photo because, even though it was the smallest size available, it was just too large for Mrs. Dabnet.
Emme led the demon to the bathroom. She'd already cleaned the chamber with a fury, and it sparkled like new. The antique brass fixtures shone in the rays of drifting through the small window high above the double mirrors. She waited for the tip of his tail to pass over the threshold before shutting the door. When she let go of his hand, he backed against the door, slowly settling into the corner of the bathroom, his expression full of fear and curiosity. She sat down on the closed peach toilet and dropped the plug into the tub's drain. Emme squeezed out a glob of Finster's Coconut Bubble Bath and turned on the hot tap. Steam drifted up in secret tendrils, reaching for the dust motes that danced in the ray of light.
"Come on," Emme murmured. "Let's get you cleaned up." She turned her gaze on the little, black demon and waited. "I'll polish your horns, and afterward, I can rub baby oil into them. Would you like that?"
He shook terribly.
She got up and sidled close to him. Emme slid her hand over his bald head, rubbing small circles over his skin. "My name is Emme. Do you remember your name?"
He didn't answer, but his trembling eased. She found his clawed hand and guided him to side of the tub. She unlaced his ruined loincloth and the demon struggled when she lifted him into the water. His weight felt far too slight for his size even though his size defied logic, if he truly was a demon. He settled among the high bubbles, looking ridiculous.
Emme didn't mind. She dipped a mauve washcloth into the water and ran it over his face first, careful to wipe around his eyes. She swept it over his bald head, rubbed behind his ears and cleaned his neck and shoulders. She washed every part of him, humming low as she worked, and never moved in a sudden way in order to keep him at ease.
The bubbles melted away, and she reached in to pull the plug. "Come out now," she said, her voice warm and kind. "Let me dry you off. For the first time, the demon complied. He stood up straight, and his changed height startled her. "You're as tall as me!" She ran a mauve towel over his head and horns, and dried his cheeks and face in slow motion. His breathing, now audible, came in deep gusts of air that swelled his shiny body.
"Nazan." He grinned a jagged smile.
Emme nodded and swiped the towel across his chest. Already, he seemed less emaciated. "Nice to meet you, Nazan. I'll take care of you until you're stronger. She ran the towel over his lower extremities, noticing his phallus had changed in size. Hugging the terry cloth around his legs, she tried not to stare, then moved behind him to dry his backside. His butt appeared too tight and small, the muscles tense. She rubbed each cheek and his tail curled around her ankle in a cold embrace.
"Let me brush your teeth." Reaching back to the sink, she found the package. Turning away from his gaze, Emme opened the new pink toothbrush and rinsed the bristles. She squeezed a line of Crest out and turned to him. "Open up."
The demon's gums and tongue were black. His teeth reminded her of a bear's. She brushed them in circular motions, careful to clean each one. "Rinse and spit," she said and studied the ripples of muscle across his body as he bent over the sink. Stubs stood out above his shoulder blades. Papa cut off his wings, she realized. She touched one and he flinched. She ran her fingertips around the flesh-covered bone and frowned. "Does it hurt?"
Nazan nodded when he looked over his shoulder at her, his face haunted. He sighed when she pressed her fingers into his skin and closed his eyes.
"I won't hurt you," she reminded him. "Now come and lie down for a little while. I've been cleaning all morning. It's time for me to take a nap. We can eat later, if you don't mind." She led him to the master bedroom. Once there, he grasped her hand, his fingers trembling. She stopped to study his face.
"What's the matter?"
"He tied me there." His dried up, coarse voice grated in the silent room. The demon pointed a long, knobby finger to a scratched up spot on the floor. Emme noticed his claw needed filing.
"He's gone now. He can't hurt you any more, or me for that matter." She took his pointing finger in her other hand and held it to her face. "Look at me. Trust me, Nazan."
The demon closed his eyes and leaned against her. Emme felt him strengthening, the muscles in his sinuous body fleshing out by the ease of her manner. His cheek touched hers, stinging her skin with a bitter cold, an icy sensation of being forgotten too long. As he curled his arms around her shoulders, clutching her in an awkward embrace, she remembered he stood naked. His flaccid genitals rubbed against her leg, breaching the thin cotton of her tacky green nightgown.
"I trust you, Emme."
She thought he might cry when she backed away from his closeness.
"I like the right side of the bed. I've got my pillows bunched just the way I want, so you stay on the left and keep to yourself. When the other furniture arrives, you can have your own room until you're well enough to move on." She backed to the bed, plopping down in a weary heap. Emme kicked off her fuzzy slippers and wiggled her toes.
Nazan stood there a long time. He watched as she curled under the covers, her eyelids heavy. Emme thought she could see him growing, his muscles thickening and the darkness in his eyes shimmering with a lively light. He took a tentative step toward the bed, his gaze catching on that scratched up space of wooden floor. Nazan sighed. He blinked his fathomless eyes, shook his head, and ambled the rest of the way to the left side of the old, iron canopy bed. It creaked under his weight when he clambered onto the mattress.
Emme glanced over her shoulder, forcing a kind smile. "Now you get some proper rest. I'm sure it's not been good to sleep in that pile of stinky newspapers for so long. After our nap, I'll make some peanut butter and apricot jelly sandwiches. Would you like that?"
A hard cock against her ass woke Emme with its pressing need. She held still for a long while. The heat in the bed felt comfortable, embracing her in waves of passion, and the arms circling her body made her believe she was safe from the outside world. Clawed fingers stroked her belly in a soothing massage, their pads firm, the jagged nail-tips barely touching her skin. Balmy mint breath lingered against her neck. She opened her eyes and realized daylight had disappeared during her nap. The curtain-less window in the near barren bedroom held stars twinkling in its navy colored sky. A hot, wet tongue tested the skin at the nape of her neck, and she shuddered. I wish I were naked, she thought and wondered further what it would feel like to be taken by a demon.
"I'm hungry." He purred as he licked her skin. Sharp teeth nicked her in a gentle urge. It reminded her of some animal, a wolf perhaps, holding its prey in submission. For a moment, she feared he was hungry for ... her.
His palm curved over her belly, tempting her womb, sending pulses of desire through her body and mind. Emme hoped he'd explore further, reaching down between her legs to tease her, but his fingers rubbed and caressed the softness of her abdomen, his forefinger occasionally pausing to rim her navel.
Nazan nipped her shoulder through her nightgown, his teeth catching in the fabric. He plucked at it, biting, nibbling, then releasing with curious fervor. He thrust his hips in a sudden move, his bulky phallus forcing its way between her butt cheeks, separated from her skin by the thin layer of fabric.
She squirmed.
He bit down on her neck, his teeth a sharp reminder not to move.
Holding still, as motionless as his hand became on her stomach, she waited to see what he might do next. The groan that sounded deep in his throat sent chills along her spine. He released her, his mouth slowly nuzzling, soft and wet. His lips sucked at the side of her neck, gentle, easing their way to her ear. There, he paused. "You taste good," he whispered.
She shivered.
"I want to taste more of you; I'm hungry."
"Let's go to the kitchen." She barely heard her voice.
He snuffled her hair, moaned in apparent pleasure at its fragrance, and slipped his arms away. The bed creaked and the mattress shifted as he left its surface. Cool air wafted over her backside. Emme swallowed hard, waiting.
Cloven hoofs tapped against the wooden floor, crossed the rug and, when she looked up, Nazan stood above her, his hand held out. She noticed his body had changed once more, his chest wider, his biceps starting to bulge. Curious, she let her gaze wander down his body to the erect length of his penis. His testicles hung below, his balls dancing in a heated motion before they went still. His tail flicked from side to side, cat-like, just behind him.
Sliding her legs from the bed, she sat up. "PBJ?"
The demon shrugged. He reached for her hand, snatched it from her lap, and squeezed her fingers tight. "I'm hungry," he repeated. "Now."
Nodding, Emme stood. She felt tempted to embrace the demon, to rest her cheek against his broadening chest and listen for a heartbeat. Do demons have hearts? She stepped close to him, feeling short all of a sudden. He stood an inch taller whereas after his bath, they'd been the same height. The tip of his penis touched her inner thigh. She looked down. Everything about him had grown in proportion.
Forgetting her slippers, she started out of the bedroom, the demon clutching her hand and following a step behind. She wanted him next to her as an equal. Hopefully, with time and encouragement, he would lead her before his release. It's not right to keep him, she reminded herself.
They walked through the hall, past the single framed photo, across the parlor and took a right to the outdated kitchen. Glancing at the dishes that needed washing, Emme frowned. She tried to pull her hand free from his grip, but he refused to let go. "I need to make the sandwiches. You can stay by me. I don't mind."
His brow angled in a dangerous furrow, two bushy lines of ebony hair meeting in the middle of the rumple between them. His eyes flickered with a purple hue, glittering, hypnotic and ... beautiful. He grunted after a long stare and finally withdrew his hand.
She forced a smile. He's becoming possessive. The realization shocked her. Trying to push away the thought, she set out two plates, the package of bread, peanut butter and homemade apricot jelly. She slathered the peanut butter over the slices, stealing an occasional sideways glance at him. He watched her work, his eyes empty pits of darkness. When she opened the jar of jelly, he breathed deep.
"Smells good?"
He nodded and waved a clawed hand at her, and pursed his lips.
"Almost done." She spooned the jelly on, smearing it out evenly making him five sandwiches. There wasn't a lot to remember about her father, but she did remember that demons liked to eat. With both hands, she offered the plate to him. He swiped it, backed into an empty corner, crouched low and devoured them.
Emme sat at the table with her sandwich and ate with slow precision. The moon glowed in the window over the sink, a great, white Cheshire cat grin against blue velvet. When she finished, Nazan crawled across the floor toward her. His claws ticked and clacked on the tile. She closed her eyes when he reached her, his fingers circling her ankles for a moment. She reached down to touch his bald head, her fingers searching his curving horns and imagined they ought to be like a bull's, long, sharp and dangerous. Remembering she'd wanted to rub oil into them, she started to stand.
Teeth grazed her calf.
She sat back against the cushion. His warm tongue drew slow circles over the skin behind her knee. She felt his cheek pressing into her leg, his shoulders urging them to part. Those bear teeth dragged across her skin, his tongue stretching, tasting, leaving slick lines of hot saliva in its wake. Higher, she thought; she hoped. Claws tickled the underside of her thighs, testing the softness of her skin.
Emme spread her legs in anticipation, offering herself to him. He snorted out a hot breath, the air reaching her open labia. The demon paused in his tasting. His hesitation caused her to look down.
Nazan's body swelled and released each heavy breath of air. His eyes swirled with shadows, not quite black, but shifting shades of gray. His mouth hung ajar as he studied her wet pussy.
She swallowed, her eyes lowered on his.
"Please?" he asked, his voice just a growling sound.
She wanted to grasp his temples, to draw his face in and cry out when he licked her. Instead, she forced her hands to seek his shoulders. Emme nodded, her face serene, her body flushing with desire.
He slipped her nightgown higher, leaned in and tasted her, licking the folds of her pussy with hungry grunts. His tongue felt rough, hot and moist. He swirled it at her entrance, slipped the tip in and withdrew.
She gasped.
"More?" His voice sounded desperate, as if he too could sense her pleasure, her need.
"Yes," she whispered. Emme grasped the back of his head and guided him into position. His lips brushed her clitoris in gentle strokes. He went further, parting them to nip at the tender skin, lighting her nerves. Her thighs quivered against his cheeks. She leaned back as far as she could in the wooden chair.
Someone rang the doorbell, and he flinched. Nazan sat back on his knees, his eyes wide. He pulled his hands into his lap. His lips glistened as he spoke. "Someone's here. Someone bad." His nostrils flared as he sniffed the air. "He knows me."
Emme blushed and pushed down her nightgown. She swept a shaky hand through her dark hair and stood. "I'll get it. Probably some neighbor. Don't worry."
His tail thumped against the floor. "Be careful. He lies."
"Just wait for me in the bedroom." She touched his cheek in a tender way, wishing they'd not been interrupted. Her last boyfriend never went down on her, and it it'd been a long time since she had sex with a ... man. He's not a man.
The doorbell ding-donged a second time. "I'm coming!" she called and almost laughed at the double meaning in her words. "Just a sec."
"Hey, Em. It's me."
She hesitated at the door. The voice sounded familiar in a vague way. Almost like ... "Lou?"
"Yeah. Is it too late?"
She had no idea what time it was. That she'd napped since mid-morning was bad enough. "No, no. I'll let you in. I'm in my jammies though."
He chuckled.
She slid the bolt and unlocked the door. Her father's old friend stood in a dark gray business suit, briefcase in hand. He looked just as she remembered him at the funeral. Silver tinged his russet hair, and his angular face radiated handsomeness even for a man fifteen years her senior. He rushed in and hugged her tight, his stubble catching in her hair as he withdrew.
"Good to see you, Em. You look as beautiful as ever. Stunning color."
"Ha ha. Very funny." She ushered him to the back room where a cheap futon dressed in purple batik waited. They sat at either end. Emme smiled. "What brings you out this way? And in the dark all dressed up like that?"
"Lecture at the university." He leaned back, sighing. "Oh, it's been a long time. I mean, I know we saw each other at the ... well, in July, but really, after your mom left your dad, you and I lost touch. Hell, I lost touch with Martin too. He got so..." He pursed his lips.
"He went nuts. It's all right. You can say it." She reached across the distance and touched his arm. "You were a good friend to him, as much as you could have been. Dad was crazy. He just got worse the more into his hobbies he went. I hope you don't blame yourself for it."
His fingers curled over her hand, soft fingers, skin that only moved papers, never a shovel or anything too rough. She glanced at his nails, manicured, straight, neat, and as devoid of a wedding ring as hers.
His cell phone hummed, vibrating somewhere in his dress jacket. "Aw, shit. Lemme see who it is now." He found the tiny device and yammered off a slew of yes and no answers, his face tight and serious. The phoned beeped when he disconnected. "Ah, I got to get going. Look, Em. I know this may sound strange, but I was wondering if you found anything unusual in the house."
"A lot of books. Most were molded real bad. I threw them out. I found a spider in the basement." She frowned at the memory.
He half-grinned. "Did you kill it?"
"No. You know what Mum always said. Harm none."
The lines at the sides of his eyes deepened, and she thought she saw a flash of something in the depths of his green pupils. A forced smile spread across his thin lips, lips she used to imagine kissing years ago, at the cusp of puberty. "Yeah. Your mom always was into that pagan lingo." He looked past her, possibly at the empty wall and the maroon painted bookshelf that gaped with its few tomes. "You doing anything tomorrow night?"
Emme twisted her lips, contemplating her answer. "Maybe."
"Can I take you out for dinner?"
"That depends."
"Arulio's. I know it's your favorite. Pick you up at seven?"
"You're on." She stood up and followed him to the door. Lou swept out of her house, striding across the narrow flagstone path to his blood red mustang. This model was new, maybe even this year's. She shook her head as he drove away, wondering at the offer.
Nazan growled.
"Why'd did you break that vase?" Emme watched his tail slap against the wall, the tip swerving in testy waves. His claws grated against the wooden floor, gouging it. He turned away from her, the stubs where his wings once were, tensing. The demon hugged his knees, baring his back and the rippled scars across his skin.
She left to find the broom. Carefully, she swept the mess along the floor into a small pile. The shards of blue glass reminded her of her mother. Few things remained that were her mother's. One less now. She dumped the glass in the bathroom trash, set the broom and dustpan by the toilet and opened the medicine cabinet to find the baby oil.
"You're mad that I spoke to him?" She entered the bedroom and strode to Nazan's side. He snuffed out a bitter snort. Standing over him, she flipped the top of the bottle and emptied a circle of oil into her palm. His horns felt rough, hard and thirsty. She massaged oil into them, waiting for him to say something, anything.
An owl hooted outside, probably from the elm near the window. Emme rubbed and slicked the oil into the ridges of his horns until they shined. She set the bottle on the windowsill and tested the skin on his wing stubs. He winced and groaned, flashing a pained look over one shoulder before he turned away.
"Do you remember your father?" she asked.
His breathing came and went in torrid gasps. That basso grumble of his voice caught when he cleared his throat. "I remember a man with your eyes." He shivered. His tail slapped the floor. The tip quivered and reached for her ankle, circling it like a snake as it climbed to her knee.
"No. Before him. The man with my eyes was my father. Remember your father. Can you?"
He grunted.
She placed her palm on his shoulder. "It was long ago, when man was young. Maybe you've forgotten."
Nazan hunkered lower, avoiding her touch. He grasped his head and sighed. "I don't want to remember, not yet." His tail tightened in a python-like embrace.
She lost her balance. Emme reached for the windowsill. Losing her grip on its edge, she fell backward. The bottle of baby oil tumbled from its resting place and bounced on the floor just as she crashed on her side. The wooden floor bit into her hip. She cried out, startled more than hurt.
In moments, the demon hovered over her, his eyes reflecting concern. He reached out to touch her face, hesitating. "Are you hurt?" His fingertips met her cheek when she turned.
"You have to realize how strong you are." She tried to sit up, but he leaned into her, placing his other hand on her shoulder. Pinned there, she could only sigh at him. "Nazan." She closed her eyes, trying to think of how to explain.
The owl hooted.
After a time, he leaned closer. She felt his breath against her face. His wide nose touched the tip of her small one, running in slow sideways passes, a soothing tickle. His voice sounded deep and low in his chest, a pleasant grumble of desire. When he spoke, she felt his large, wet lips brushing against hers. "I'm not strong. Your father broke me."
He smelled like spices, old forgotten scents from an ancient time. His nose felt warm against hers. His fingers contracted over her shoulder, hot, fiery through the thin layer of her nightgown. Emme tilted her chin up until her mouth met those firm lips. She waited, wishing he would kiss her.
Instead, the demon drew her against his chest and lay on his side, curling his limbs about her body.
"What do you remember?" she whispered.
He frowned, the movement of his mouth causing her to reach for him. She kissed his lower lip. He flinched. She kissed the side of his mouth, his chin and before moving to his lips. "Tell me."
Clawed fingers stroked her back in long sweeps. "No." His voice was a breath against her open mouth. He released her, backing away, his eyes wide, black pools in the gold light. "Lie on your stomach."
"Wh-what?"
"On your stomach." He nodded toward the floor, indicating his wish. Uncertain, she rolled onto her stomach. Hooves ticked, claws clicked and slid. A pop resounded in the silence of his harried breathing. He began with her feet, massaging oil into her skin. It felt grander than a spa massage.
Emme moaned in delight. Thumbs pushed her calf muscles into submission, kneading, relieving her of tension and awareness. When her lower legs felt heavy, the nerves tingling, she heard the light sound of more oil dripping into his palm. He rubbed her upper legs, his wide hand covering her outer thighs as he worked the oil into her skin. Fingers breached her nightgown, sliding it upward with each thrust of his slick palms. He found her buttocks, stopped, and knelt over her, his teeth catching on the hem of her clothing. In a teasing lean, he drew her gown over her back, his cheek grazing her shoulder when he stopped.
"Why are you doing this to me?" She looked over her shoulder, amused by the concentration so plain in his dark face.
The cap snapped open. More oil dribbled out.
The demon quirked a brow. "If you care for me, I will care for you."
He slathered oil over her lower back, his breathing calmer now. As his hands wore their way into her muscles, cleaving her senses and leaving her body aching for him in new ways, he hummed. Emme closed her eyes and gave in. It felt like magic, not the violent kind her father practiced with pain, blood, and power-plays, but something sweeter, from a time when people had faith in simplicity. It felt like her mother. And oh, how she ached to have that force back in her life.
"It's your turn to remember," she heard him say. He sounded far away, across a churning sea of froth-tipped waves. Even further was the sound of her favorite nightgown ripping as he grew impatient to touch more. Emme found she didn't care, that she wouldn't miss it. It might be nice to sleep naked.
He worked her shoulders, then her neck, each press of his hands soothing her beyond bodily reasoning. His touch eased its way into her mind, untying her pent up thoughts, releasing memories she'd hidden away. She saw her mother standing in the hall of this old house, her cream-colored summer dress dotted with blood, not her blood, or even her father's, but the life of some poor creature her father had captured. "He wanted to prove his strength," she murmured. "Please don't make me see these things." Her mother looked delicate in that memory, her skin pale, her face reflecting pain. Emme wanted to reach out to her, gather her up, and hug away the cruelty that swallowed them in that time.
His hands moved away. She felt him lie down beside her, his chest touching her upper arm. That mysterious tail sought a hold on her legs, twining itself in and out, all around, so she knew she couldn't walk if she wanted to.
She scooted on her side, wanting to face him, to forget and lose that ugly memory in his kiss. "Take me," she pleaded with a soft moan. "I don't want to know my past." She touched his abdomen, seeking a bellybutton, a circle that might prove he had a mother at one time. His muscled belly held no such secret. "I want to know your memories. You're the prisoner, not me. I want to see you free."
He blinked at her, his throat moving as he swallowed.
Emme delved lower, anxious to grasp his cock, to hold it and feel its rigid length. She found the organ sleeping, limp and sheathed. When her fingers met its heated skin, the demon held his breath.
He moved in slow motion, his eyes half closed as his hungry mouth approached. With tender grace, his lips met hers. She expected more, a hard kiss that left her breathless and strained. Instead, he took her mouth with gentle nibbles. Her mind emptied of her past and for a very long time, they kissed like first time lovers, awkward, slow and frightened at what such advances might lead to.
He stopped to speak, "Maybe tomorrow I will remember." Nazan ran his fingers through her hair, petting the silken strands. He pursed his lips and touched his nose to hers.
She eased her body closer to his. His penis had not come to life for her this night and regret bit at her over it. "I want you too much." She released it and clung to his waist.
"There is little left of me to want." He nipped at her mouth, smiled a monster's grin and closed his eyes.
"Should we go to the bed?"
"I'm still used to the floor."
"Mm." Emme leaned into his chest. She pressed her ear against his heated skin and listened for some semblance of a heartbeat. The thrum of it sounded like a forgotten whisper, a lulling drum with little rhythm and a strange cadence. She had to remind herself that he wasn't human and never would be, no matter how much she wished for it.
The night moved on and she slept in his arms. Dawn brought a bright shade of golden light through the window. She didn't want to move, but her stomach grumbled. She lifted his arm from her body and stood, the remnants of her lime colored nightgown falling in a ruined pile at her feet. She stared at the demon. He looked bigger in every way. His horns, shiny from her attentions the night before, curved and seemed thicker. He breathed like a slumbering animal, the great girth of his chest rising up and releasing in slow, relaxed sighs.
She ran a hand through her hair to straighten it and went to the closet to pull on a cotton dress. Tying the strings at the middle of her back, she looked down and admired the shape of her body, her slender waist and gently curved hips. There was little need to wear a bra; her breasts were small in comparison to most women.
Emme left the bedroom and padded down the hall to the kitchen. There she started breakfast, cracking and frying eggs and ham in a pan. She toasted wheat bread, buttered it and slathered jelly over it. The house filled with the pleasing aroma of crisping pork. When she opened the fridge and bent to find the orange juice, two large hands gripped her hips. A hard cock crushed into her ass, missing the center and wedging against her left butt cheek. She jumped.
The gallon of orange juice bumped the side of the fridge as she stood and leaned backward. Hot lips teased her ear. "I'm hungry." He ground his hardness into her. A low growl sounded in his throat, sending chills along her spine.
She turned to face him, smiling up, so very far above. Nazan stood at least six feet tall now. "Will you stop growing?"
He shrugged.
"I made breakfast. Sit at the table with me this time."
Nazan grunted, gripped her ass and thrust his free cock between her legs. A rush of heat spread through her body. The walls of her pussy clenched, reaching for him. Wetness slicked her entrance and she held her breath, eyes widening. Just as she felt ready to give herself to him, to surrender, he stepped away, hoofs clacking on the tile.
He drew a chair out, it's legs grating. Nazan poked the seat cushion with his forefinger, testing it. He sat down, crossed his arms over his massive chest and watched her. His penis stood at attention against the nest of curled hairs above his groin. His legs were spread wide, one jittering nervously.
Emme set their plates on the table and poured the juice. "Do you remember your father?" she pressed.
She ate in small, slow bites, the salty taste of ham mixing well with the whites of her eggs. Nazan, in turn, ate everything in harried gulps, his plate empty in record time. His revelation didn't startle her. All demons were fallen angels cast out for taking human wives, but the fact that he remembered so far back made her wonder what other things he might recall. "Tell me about her," she said, intent and curious.
He clicked his claws against the tabletop, eyes aglitter with golden sparkles. "She used to draw water at the well. I came to Yerushalaim when she was just nineteen, and I used to sit on the blankets outside her tent and listen to her sing. Our first kiss was by the well. She used to smile when I touched her face. I'd stare at her for hours..." He looked away, out the kitchen window to the trees that stretched beyond the house.
Emme held her patience. She knew some memories came in waves of emotion with little order. The orange juice ran across her tongue, tangy sweet. She chewed her eggs and ham, and bit into a piece of toast.
"Her name was Ana." He reached for his juice and swallowed it all down. "Blessed Ana full of grace and guarded by my..."
"Yes?" She set her fork down and laid a hand on his arm. Guarded by whom?"
He shook his head. "I don't want you to go with that man tonight. He knows me; he wants me. I don't like the sound of his voice."
"It's a free dinner, and it's been a long time since I've been out on a date." She rubbed his skin in slight motions.
"The basement was cold." The demon looked Emme in the eyes. "That man was there when your father put me in the circle. He knows about me."
"Well, I suspect he wants you for himself. He's not as harsh as my father was, but he's not the gentle sort either. He asked what I found in the basement. He knows damn well what was in there or else he wouldn't have come around. I may be a lot of things, but I'm not stupid."
His brow furrowed. "I'm still hungry," he muttered.
Emme stood up, took both their plates and carried them to the sink. "You're welcome to anything in my house. You don't have to ask." She started the water running in order to do the dishes. "I've been alone a while, and if I forget my manners, forgive me."
His chair scraped. She heard him approaching. Soon he stood beside her, their shoulders touching. "I've been alone longer than you. Ages, centuries, so long I can't count it all. For much of it, I was imprisoned because of what I am. I remember when your father found me. I lived in a monastery, below its gardens in the catacombs. The monks kept me there as an example, a secret piece of God."
His revelation gave her hope. Emme ran the dishrag over their plates and held back her curiosity. She set each washed item in the empty sink and smiled when he turned the faucet and rinsed them. As if he'd done so a thousand times, he dried the plates and put them away in the cabinet ... in exactly the place she wanted them.
Once that chore was complete, she hesitated to leave his side. Nazan stood staring out the small window above the sink, his face drawn. She rubbed his shoulder, but he remained there in silence. "I'm gonna take a shower."
He hummed an incoherent reply, his eyes welling with tears.
Emme embraced him, pressing her cheek against his bare back. "You can come with me, if you want."
His body tensed, and he said nothing.
Disappointed, she left him to stand there in his sorrow.
Steam filled the bathroom. She liked scalding showers, water so hot her skin turned pink. Emma stepped into the peach-colored fiberglass tub and closed the clear vinyl curtain. She soaped her body in slow motion, wishing the demon would burst in and crush her against the shower wall. The thought of him, of the heavy need he infused in her body made her sigh. I shouldn't let it happen. It's not right. She felt selfish for her lust and tried to push it from her mind. The urge to finger herself pressed her when she washed her pubic hairs. She lathered her hands and delved into the folds of her pussy, cleansing longer than necessary, but the temptation of release waned. I don't want that. I want him.
She washed her hair and rinsed. The water turned off with a squeaky sound when she moved the lever. She wrung out her hair, twisting it like a sodden rope and stepped out onto the rug to towel dry. Hazy, hot mist drifted in the air around her. She found herself alone, and upset about it.
This time, Emme wore her underwear, a lacy pair in her favorite shade of emerald. She donned a matching bra, examined herself in the rust pitted mirror near the closet and frowned. She decided to put the same dress on and a pair of comfy flip-flops. It was a beautiful day outside, and she needed to work in the garden to prepare it for winter.
She passed by the kitchen and glimpsed Nazan still standing where she'd left him, his hands on the edge of the counter, his face pained and his gaze far off in the distance of the scene outside the window. "Remembering is hard," she whispered and left him to go through the back door.
Fall leaves drifted across the thick lawn in slurries of vibrant reds and oranges. With long sweeping strides of her rake, she gathered the fallen debris and scooped the piles into a trashcan. That task complete, she moved on to her father's old garden.
She stood at its wrought iron arched entry for a little while, wondering at the unusual things he'd planted. Gargoyles stood guard at each brick-lined bed, their bodies etched with moss and lichen, and stained by water deposits. They looked ancient. Striding beneath the arch, she stood over the first bed and set to work. The herbs he'd grown served no purpose for her. Emme pulled them out, Caraway, a thick stand of dandelions, hyssop, and sage. She piled them in the pathway and wiped her brow. The peppermint and Damiana called to her though. Emme grinned. "I should pull it out too, but..." She bent over the plant and plucked away a handful of leaves. She set them in an empty bucket to use later.
The discards went into the trash. She decided she'd start a compost pile in the spring, maybe one of those fancy tumblers her mum had always admired. She hoed and raked the empty beds evenly and set her tools back in place. Grabbing the bucket of Damiana leaves, she looked over the backside of the house, her house.
The kitchen window framed Nazan's face, his expression drawn, and the sunlight reflected in his empty eyes. Emme felt sorry for him. She trudged back to the porch and went inside. The kitchen still smelled good though their breakfast was long gone. She set her bucket on the table and went to the demon, hoping to release him from his reverie. A drop of blood spattered onto the floor behind him, and she paused.
A gash stood out on the stub of his left wing, blood shining there, a bright crimson. Another drop fell. Then, a line of red dripped down.
"It's starting," she murmured. Emme hurried to him and found a dishrag. She rinsed it beneath the faucet and swiped at his wound. "Nazan?"
He blinked, his gaze still lost on some far away point.
"I need you to go to bed now. You need to rest."
He let out a weighted breath.
"Come to the bed now!" she ordered, hating the cruelty in her voice. Even if he wanted to resist, she knew he could not. The command of a master held a magic all its own. He must obey; he must comply until his release. By blood, she was his master, whether she wanted to admit it or not.
He walked ahead of her like a zombie, his steps halted, his legs stiff. His slow gate made her impatient. In the bedroom, he laid on the bed on his stomach, silent. Emme dressed the open sore and sat beside him, stroking his bald head. Soon, the other stub began to bleed. She cleaned and dressed that as well.
The day wasted away until night came. Outside, a car horn beep-beeped in the forest silence. Emme bent her head and kissed Nazan's shoulder. "I have to go out now," she whispered. "You stay here. Rest. The pain will ease by morning." But tonight the nightmares will come. She saw no reason why she wouldn't be home before that time.
She hurried to the door and answered it just as Lou knocked. "Ready," she told him.
He offered her his arm and she curled hers into it. He felt warm in the chill November air. "You look beautiful," he said, leaning close to place a swift kiss against her cheek. No heat lingered there, and already, she wanted to go back inside, to wake Nazan from his remembering and tease more kisses from his searing lips.
"I hope you're prepared," she said, forcing a wicked grin. "I'm hungry for pasta, three helpings. And after that, you're taking me to Milly's for dessert."
Lou guided her along the flagstone path toward a blue Mustang. This one wasn't a convertible and she guessed it was birthed from the factory in the sixties. He opened the passenger door for her and waited as she buckled the seatbelt. "You can eat anything you want," he said. "And as much as my cash allows."
When he settled in the driver's sear, he leaned close to her. Emme decided he expected a kiss, and she pursed her lips, ready for a challenging game of cat and mouse. "What is it?" She widened her eyes.
"I, um, I'm just glad to be alone with you after all these years. I should have said this before, Em, but I'm attracted to you. I want this night to be special for us."
Lou smelled like Desire cologne. Emme recognized the scent from a trip through Macy's stink aisle, as she liked to think of it. She rolled down her window to let in a flash of chilly, fresh air. He started the car and headed away from the old, white house on its lonely hill in Ellory Wood. The gravel road gave way to asphalt and they passed the large estates that bordered hers. Horses grazed in most fields and her neighbor, A.J. Benton, sat on his porch swing. She held her hand to the glass and the old man waved back, smiling a crooked grin. If Lou tries something, at least A.J. saw me in his car. She respected her old neighbors for their nosy ways. They never missed a detail when a lone car passed by on the seldom traveled road.
Arulio's bordered the finer shops of South Creyton. Emme used to dine in the Italian restaurant when her parents were still together. She let Lou sport her on his arm when they went inside and felt flattered that he had a reservation. They didn't have to wait, and their server ushered them to a secluded corner table lit by an oil lamp.
Lou sat beside her and immediately rested his hand over hers on the tabletop. He perused the menu, his eyes shifty. "You already know what you want?" He nodded at her, grinning over her menu. It lay in front of her unopened.
"Oh, I always get the same thing. I know what I want, always." She scooted closer to him, their knees bumping into one another. "I'll have the garden medley over penne and a raspberry tea."
"Mm." He studied his menu, his eyes drifting from side to side. Emme took a moment to realize how little had changed in the restaurant after ten years. It had been that long since she was last there. She felt Lou's warm breath against her ear, bringing her back to the moment. "You're so beautiful. You know that?" he murmured, his thin lips brushing her cheek in a casual kiss as he pulled away. "I could stare at you forever."
A chill ran up her spine. "So, it's like that is it?"
He frowned, a decidedly feigned look of confusion. "Like what?"
Emme reached up and touched the strands of silver in his hair, something she'd wanted to do every time she saw him. He flinched a little and she knew he felt it, that sizzle of strength she possessed. Most men shied away from her when they realized it was more than static. "I was going to wait 'til after dinner, maybe even after ice cream, but I might as well come out and say it."
"Please." He moved in, his fingers tightening over her hand. She then felt his surge of magic, something soothing, cool like a calm lake at dawn. His touch brought peace, a sweetness to her thoughts and for a moment, she let herself fade into it. "Enlighten me, Em."
Her lips parted as she readied to blurt out her accusations, but he silenced her before a word could emerge. His mouth closed hard over hers. He crushed forth, his tongue probing, seeking, along with his mystic mind touch.
"Oh! Excuse me."
The voice startled Emme to awareness, and she scooted her chair to the side. The server stood in front of them, his face flushed with color. He gaped like a voyeur, his brown eyes wide.
"I, um, can I get you some drinks?"
"The lady will have a raspberry tea, and I'd like a bottle of your house red." Lou's voice sounded too smooth, almost smug as if he'd won the first of their night games.
"A whole bottle? Why, Lucien Myr, you must be very thirsty tonight." She wanted to bat her eyelashes at him, and wished she'd drawled just to make him laugh. It wouldn't do for him to think she could be so easily won, and a laugh would have set things back where they belonged.
The server scrawled out the order and scurried away.
"It's hot at this table. I need some wine to quench my thirst." He grinned sideways, his eyes sparkling with mischief. His fingers curled to her palm and he stroked the tender skin there, hinting at his desires. "What were you saying before?"
Emme cleared her throat. "What do you really want?" She decided to ask him point blank and get this whole business out in the open.
"Your father left a great many things undone in that house." With his left hand, he grasped his sharp chin, kneading it between his thumb and forefinger, his expression thoughtful. "Is there anything you need help with?"
"Like?"
He chuckled at her. "Found anymore spiders in the basement?"
"The basement's cleaned out now." She pulled her hand into her lap, the crease of his brow when she did so, pleasing. "If there's something you think my father wanted you to have, why don't you just tell me what it is? If I find it, I'll let you know."
"He wanted me to have you." His hand slid across the tablecloth and into her lap. With a hungry gaze, he caressed her mound beneath the folds of her skirt.
Emme held still, refusing to bend to the pulse of desire his touch sent through her. She had no need for a master in her life, a man that would bend her needs and use her for her talents. "He never said such a thing to me." She grasped his hand and stopped his lurid pass. "My father told me many things, shared his secrets and his visions. He'd have told me that."
"Don't you remember the ritual ... in the garden?"
The server returned, setting the wine in the center of the table, his gaze lingering on her. He slid the tea toward her and poured out Lou's wine. Emme sat back in her chair while Lou ordered for them, his thumb tapping against her body, inches from her clit. She closed her legs tight, forcing a polite smile at the waiter.
"I don't know what you're referring to," she answered after their server left. "I remember some things, but many I've blocked out over the years. I think it's best to forget what my father did. My mother never could, and it destroyed her."
Lou nodded; his hand left her. For a time, they waited in silence. Their food came; they ate. In the end, she let him escort her to his car. Inside, seated against cold leather, he made another pass. His hand sought the cleft between her legs, reaching beneath her dress as he forced a hot kiss to her lips. Emme tried to shut her mind to him, but he was older after all, and better used to practicing his arts. She felt his hold, his mind seeking answers she refused to give. The energizing grope between her legs made her think of Nazan's tongue and she cried out, startling them both.
"It's like that, is it?" He mocked, his face against hers.
She pursed her lips. He'd seen the demon, plucked the hidden image from her thoughts like a ripe tomato dangling from its vine. "I changed my mind," she whispered. "I don't want dessert. Take me home."
"Only if you let me in. I want to see it."
"No."
"I want to fuck you in front of it and watch its eyes flicker with anger just like yours are doing right now."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
He bit her bottom lip between his teeth, the pain sending fire through her body and a flash of memory, a garden, flowers falling from the cherry tree ... she felt so naked then ... and she felt bare before him now, at the height of puberty and promised..."
"You do remember."
"Take me home now, or I'll get out and walk."
He hovered. Slowly, Lou backed off, his face serene. "It's a long walk." The engine started and the keys hanging from the ring tapped against themselves. Emme looked out the window and tried to forget. She stared into the darkness, waiting to see the familiar oaks that lined her road.
"What are you going to do with him?" he asked at last.
She didn't turn to look at him. "None of your business."
Time slipped away in that thick, uncomfortable silence. Despite herself, she felt the need to have him touch her. Some misplaced thought shouted, begged to be ravished by this older man. Emme ignored the images of him above her, his eyes flickering with passion, his cock hard inside her body, pounding, thrusting, spurting...
Oaks waved at her with empty limbs, curled and gnarled like arthritic fingers. She started to whisper, anxious to make his influence halt. "Stop it ... stop it ... stop it..." The mustang's tires crunched along the gravel road. Her neighbor was outside his house, swaying on his porch swing like a worried parent waiting up for his child to return. She couldn't bring herself to wave this time.
The car slowed as it neared her house, and she opened her door, hurrying to escape. She spilled out on the gravel road, regained her footing, and ran toward the flagstone path. The mustang's engine rumbled.
Emme looked back once. A flood of images overwhelmed her, and in every one she saw Lucien naked, kissing her, or leaning forward to catch her lips with his invasive mouth. She closed her eyes and kept moving. The feel of her father's house reaching out made her hesitate. When she looked again, she stood paces from the door ... the open door.
A monster of a shadow loomed there, two great spiked shapes jutting from his back. The scent of fresh blood wafted across the distance, mingled with that spicy musk of skin and old things. He growled low in his throat like a guard dog warning an intruder. She rushed toward Nazan, and he gripped her in his arms, squeezing her possessively. She heard the erratic beat of his heart sounding in the thickness of his chest, and she felt safe from the memories. The car sped away, its tires grinding.
His skin felt like fire against her body. Nazan nipped at Emme's cheek, his empty, black eyes flashing with hints of silver. He drew her into the house. The front door crashed against its hinges, and she knew he was growing into his will. Claws tore away the fabric of her dress, shredding it into a useless mess that fluttered to the floor. Yet, he did not pierce her skin in his endeavor. He lifted her in his arms, his virulent brows thick and dangerously furrowed.
"I told you not to go with him. I don't want you to see him!" He carried her down the hall, his body swaying. Hoofs clacked hard against the oak planks.
She pursed her lips.
"You're mine. You'll stay at my side." He growled, a thick sound that echoed in the hall on the way to the bedroom. His tail thwacked against the plaster and the single framed photograph fell off its nail.
"No," she whispered in horror, hearing glass shatter and tinkle across the floor. She buried her face in his chest to cry. "That's my mother."
"Your mother is dead." He said it matter-of-factly, with no emotion, though she knew his anger lingered. Nazan hesitated. She felt his chin brush against her head as he glanced around.
He doesn't know what he's doing, that he has the power to hurt me, she reminded herself. That didn't matter. She didn't care about her control over him. Emme wanted him to be strong, to leave and take his place in the world as he ought to. The memory of standing beside Lou in her father's garden as a teen flooded her full force. He'd clasped her hand, said vows, made promises. And my father looked on. She couldn't remember where her mother was at that old moment.
Nazan grunted. He started forward again, curling her higher, crushing her small body into his. "Mine," he whispered.
The bed groaned when he threw her atop it. She felt helpless and strangely aroused by his brash, possessive nature. Wide-eyed, Emme stared at the lengthened stubs of his growing wings. They glistened with moisture, the blood there still drying. Her gaze traveled over his harsh expression, the curl of his thick, black lips. One side of his jaw twitched, the muscle within unable to resist showing his mood. She shook her head for a moment and gave in to her curiosity. As she glanced lower, excitement replaced her shock over the thought of Lucien Myr becoming her master.
"Do you want me so much?" She moved to sit up, the engorged length of his erection answering for him.
Without warning, he lunged. Two firm hands pressed her back into the bedcovers. He pinned her there and licked his lips with his dark, wet tongue. The sight of it provoked her pussy into arousal. The sudden rush of heat, of tingling desire made her mind dull. She felt the damp spot on her panties. Tempting him, she raised her hips. The head of his cock touched her navel and the length of it pressed into her mound.
His breathing hastened, his eyes narrowed.
"Do you?" she whispered. "It feels like you want me. Why don't you take me?"
Nazan snorted. He lowered his mouth to hers and tasted her with a slow kiss. She parted her lips to let him explore. He paused, a whimper sounding in his throat.
She slid her hips side to side. "More," she begged.
His eyes slipped shut, his mouth closing over hers. That tongue, so hard, so luscious, curved and twisted with hers in a hungry dance of lust. Fuck me, she thought. Make me forget everything. His lips moved away. Emme found herself staring at his face, and the look of wonder there. "Take me."
Nazan blinked. "No."
She groaned like a spoiled child.
He grinned like the demon he was. In a rush, he nibbled at her neck, licked it in ravenous strokes and slowly, the tight grip on her wrists eased.
She didn't dare move to touch him for fear he might stop. His questing mouth journeyed over her chest, his teeth catching on her bra. She didn't care if he ruined it. One clawed hand shot to her left breast. He cupped it, kneading as he licked the valley between them. Fingers forced the lace down, exposing her hard nipple.
"This is mine," he whispered, his gaze serious. "You can give yourself to no one other than me." He didn't wait for her to answer. His voice, his words were a command. He devoured her taut skin, his tongue lashing across her tortured areola. He suckled and bit, tickled and tasted. Emme moaned, powerless.
When he withdrew, her nipple ached with pleasant pain. His heated gaze swept over her body, appraising. She imagined he planned his next move. With a frightening action, he gripped her bra and ripped it off, the hook and eye closures no match for his strength. He tossed it away.
Her right breast felt empty, in need of the same sweet torture. He reached for it. Sensations shot through her body as he pinched her nipple. She writhed. Fingers rolled her delicate skin before his moist tongue eased the twinge. Harsh fingers curled across her side, reaching beneath her waist. His mouth dragged so much of her breast inside that she felt the tips of his teeth grating into her skin. I'll have bruises tomorrow. The realization thrilled her. Marks left by a lover, but not just any lover.
He released her, his nostrils flaring hot gasps across her slick skin. The familiar texture of his tongue ran a wet line down the middle of her abdomen and bumped over her navel. His lips closed over the lace edge of her panties. He bit down, the sound of his teeth a soft click.
Satin strained. Lace tore. He jerked them down, his prominent nose raking across her swollen clit. She cried out, a breathy, gasping moan of shock.
His hand wedged down under her buttocks, and he drew her hips up. Lips reached up to tweak her clitoris. His breathing caught as if he held it, concentrating. Her skin prickled. She, too, held her breath and rode a fragile wave of pleasure. Her body jerked in an involuntary effort to escape his fervent caresses. Emme opened her mouth, moaning, whimpering, and desperate to squirm away. Teeth clamped over her engorged bud. Her body quaked. The plateau of orgasm clenched her pussy, driving hard contractions through the core of her being. She screamed.
He held her still. His teeth parted and a thick, hard thrust of his tongue entered her body. He sucked at her wetness.
He remained there, gripping her ass and feasting as if her throbbing sex wept honey. Emme felt both vulnerable and safe. She lifted her head when he stopped and stared down at his unreadable expression.
"I want to feel you inside me."
He heaved a breath of air, pulled his hand out from under her and climbed across the bed. "No," he whispered in her face, his mouth scented like her musky release. "You don't know what you're asking of me."
He gripped her body and rolled her onto her stomach. Spreading her legs with his hands, she felt his swollen member wedge between her butt cheeks. Anticipation immobilized her. "Why do you want me to remember my past?" he murmured.
His hands lay at either side of her head. She stared at the jagged talon-like claws that tipped each finger and remembered she wanted to file them. He snorted and shifted, his penis rigid against her crack. "What did you see?" she asked, forcing her voice to remain steady. He'd remembered when he stood at the kitchen window earlier and the proof showed in the changes his body underwent.
He sniffled.
"You remembered. Tell me."
He drove his thick length against her body and she wished he'd move lower, slide himself inside and halt, filling the emptiness. "I want to be here, now, with you. I'm not that memory anymore." His voice sounded heavy, laden with pain.
She sighed.
The demon remained atop her body, his rigid erection slowly fading as time wore on. Emme waited. He settled beside her, urging her to spoon against his body. Delicate kisses tormented the back of her neck. As he calmed and the feel of his mouth fell away, she worried that tonight his nightmares would begin.
Emme dozed, submerged in latent dreams of gardens where mist danced through shadowed leaves and lights glittered among the shadows like lost fairies or frolicking fireflies. Numinous images shifted and swayed before her, remnants of her memory, times past and long forgotten until now. Even in the depths of her dream, she knew Lucien caused the revelations. She recalled his naked body, glistening with moisture from her father's blessed water. She felt cold, the chill of a night breeze touching her bare skin. She wanted Lou then, yearned for his touch, for the feel of his body and she reached out.
A woman screamed, breaking the heavy silence. Even the mist obeyed her, sweeping into the reaches of the pole beans to escape her wrath. "Why is my mother angry?" she heard herself say in the dream.
The screeching sound of her voice twisted in the darkness. Fairy lights vanished. Stars dimmed as clouds swept across the sky. The woman's voice changed to a throaty, deep wail of agony. Tight arms held her chest, constricting her lungs' attempts to draw in air.
Emme opened her eyes. The cry broke into a keening howl that soon died out in choked sobs. Just behind her, Nazan wept in his sleep. Though he held her in his muscled arms, she managed to turn and face him. We are remembering together. In that moment, she knew her father had done terrible things to her as well as the demon.
Glancing past his bulging bicep, she noticed the growth of his wings. No longer were they spikes jutting from his body like exposed bones. Thin vein-filled skin stretched taut across the spire shaped support like a kite. She knew in a few days time he'd be strong enough to fly.
"Nazan," she said, keeping her voice calm. She wanted to wake him, to rouse him from the nightmare. With a tender touch, she traced his chin, allowing her fingers to wander to the wet lines of tears that lined his cheeks.
His chest heaved.
"Wake up." She strained to move her body higher. His lips quivered and she felt the need to kiss him, to comfort him and draw out the pain of his past. She grasped the back of his head, pulling him down as she craned to reach him. His lips felt soft as velvet against hers.
He moaned. His arms tensed, crushing her to his body. Black, feral eyes opened wide. She drew her mouth across his lips. His fingers pressed into her back.
Reluctantly, she pulled away, but only a hair's breadth. "What did you see?" she whispered. "Did you see your father?"
His forehead crinkled in the center. Tears welled in his eyes. "I was falling." He bit his lower lip and sniffled. "Falling so far. My wings..." He closed his eyes hard, squinching up his face. His body shuddered.
"Do you remember your father?" She palmed his cheek, hoping for an answer.
"I remember falling..." He rubbed the middle of her back. "...because of Ana."
"Do you want to go back to sleep?"
He shook his head.
"Want to go down to the sitting room with me. We can light a fire in the hearth, and I'll file your nails." She let her thumb trace his lips as he thought over his answer.
"I'm hungry." He smiled at her, his sharp teeth less sinister now. And she got his joke.
"You're always hungry." She wriggled free of his grip and stood at the bedside. "The question is, what do you want to eat?"
The demon narrowed his eyes, his gaze falling on the patch of her trimmed pubic hairs. "That's dessert. I want real food first. You got to go eat." He frowned, and she realized he remembered his jealous anger.
"Come on then. I'll feed you." She turned on her heel and traipsed away, down the hall. Emme paused at the remains of her mother's picture frame. The photograph lay face down and she decided to leave it there for now. Maybe he's right. I should let go. She's dead.
She stepped around the broken glass and hurried to the kitchen to make her lover something to ward off his incessant hunger. As she rummaged through the fridge, she heard the tinkling of glass being swept across the hall floor. He came into the kitchen with a dustpan full of glittering shards.
Nazan gave her a guilty look and tipped the mess into the trash. He touched her shoulder in a light way, and went to sit at the table.
Emme cooked pasta, cream sauce and sausage. She set a serving plate in front of him and watched as he devoured it. He drank half a gallon of orange juice and wiped his mouth with a napkin when he was done. "I'm full."
"I should hope so." She took his dish and set it in the sink. "Let's sit together and watch a fire." She found her nail kit in the drawer and started away.
He followed her to the small room and stood just behind her as she set wood into the hearth. She crumpled newspaper and crushed it between the logs. "Almost done."
He knelt and placed his hand over the wood. "Let me."
She stepped back.
Blue flames exploded from his hand, catching on the paper and dry wood. He stood and rolled his head, cracking the bones in his neck. "Demons are pure fire."
"In more ways than one." She giggled at his confused expression.
Nazan grabbed her and heaved her into his arms. She felt like a child, for he had grown even more while he slept. The demon carried her to the futon and settled back against the purple clothed cushion, holding her in his lap. He nibbled at her neck, a purr resounding in his chest.
"Tell me about falling." Emme drew out her file and grasped his left hand. She swept the emery board back and forth across his smallest black nail.
"I remember the sky, the heavens and the music of angels." He kissed her jaw-line and sat back with a pregnant sigh. "Ana came to me at the well. I loved her." He reached up with his right hand and dragged his claws through Emme's hair, combing it. "I was beautiful then. Perfect. A creation beyond reason. Pure."
She stole a glance at him. His tears were gone, replaced by a distant look. Emme moved on to his second finger. The room started to warm from the fire. Orange light danced across the walls.
"I made love to her in the desert. Spread her body across a woven mat and took her there. She loved me, Emme. She did. I don't know why I had to fall." He paused and stared into the fire. "What is so wrong about loving a woman? A human?"
"Do you remember your father's voice?" She started on his middle finger, dulling the sharp point and smoothing the rough underside of the claw.
"I remember feathers. Great, black feathers." He groaned, and she heard the leathery sound of his wings stretching.
Emme turned to stare at them. Larger, less translucent, they seemed like bat wings. Fur shone across the top of them in tufts of chocolate brown. She nodded and set back to her filing. "I think when you remember your father, you'll understand why you have to leave me and this place. You don't belong here."
He snorted. "I don't want to remember." Claws stroked through the length of her black hair in slow, calculated drags. "I like it here with you. You're mine." He held her hair to one side, leaned in and licked the back of her neck.
She stopped, heat rushing through her body with each stroke of his tongue.
"You have to remember what you are," she forced out.
"Why?" He bit the back of her neck and held his teeth there, imposing and firm.
"So you can move on. You'll outlive me and have to watch me die. Then you'll be trapped in this old house for eternity. No doubt a mage will want you. Or followers of some Christian church. I don't want you to be someone else's treasure or worse, someone else's prisoner, a toy to push God's limits."
His teeth sank in, threatening to break her skin. She flinched, and he released her. His full lips sought out her earlobe and he spoke against it in heated whispers. "Do you treasure me, Emme?" Chills ran across her skin and down her nude body to the tips of her toes. She shivered.
The nail file scratched and scraped as she held her silence.
He groaned when she grasped his other hand. She pursed her lips, unwilling to answer his question. With his right hand done, she reached in front of him and took up the bottle of lotion. The sweet scent of cocoa butter lingered as she rubbed the creamy lubricant into his skin.
"I know where your mother came from. I was there the day your father brought her home."
Emme massaged his fingertips and the line of cuticle at the base of his long nails. "Mm," she said. "What is it you think you know about her?"
"She was a fae."
"I know what she was." Emme screwed the cap back onto the lotion bottle and set it on the side table.
"Do you know where she came from?"
She shrugged. "England, I guess. Mum never said much about it."
"A park in Newport, Wales. He found her by a manmade stream. She said she had wings then." Nazan closed his eyes and leaned back, settling into the cushion. "He cut off her wings just like he did mine. He didn't want either of us to leave. Vanora used to bring me blueberry pies when your father was out. She sat beside me in the salt circle for hours and stroked the stubs where my wings used to be. I was terrified of her for a long time."
"You had no reason to fear my mother."
He lifted his legs onto the futon and spread them out until his hoofs touched the far armrest. Nazan forced Emma down against him. "You have her nose," he whispered. "And her kindness."
"Sometimes. I have my father's temper though."
He touched her body in a teasing way, testing the softness of her skin. She imagined the marks he traced over her breasts were holy symbols of protection. The heat his body gave off felt comfortable and she let her mind drift. "You are a treasure to me, Emme," he murmured. "I wish I could love you..." His basso voice filtered through her thoughts. His mind drifted in the haze of hers, and she let him explore the things she'd left behind.
The arch in the garden was barely visible beneath the grapevines. Burgundy fruit hung low, ripe and full just as she was at that age when she strode through the entry to her father's garden. The sight of Lucien waiting for her beneath the cherry tree made her heart pound. White satin fluttered in the breeze on the altar before him. The dream reverberated with truth. Emme looked over her shoulder and glimpsed the glittering eyes watching from the basement window.
Sunlight woke her near midday. She'd dreamed too long and remembered. Emme got up and brushed a hand through her hair. The vision lingered in her waking mind as she left the sitting room and the slumbering demon. She entered the garden, passed her father in his ceremonial robes and stopped before the stone altar. Fingers traced the satin, but her gaze fixed on the naked man, Lucien, her father's friend.
"Emme!"
Madness clung to the air. She often thought her father was mad, or was it her mother? But not Lou. He stood stoic, a statue of manliness with his prominent physique and his sharp face. His green eyes lured her closer, and she climbed atop the altar.
She shook her head, trying to stay in the present. The dishes needed doing and the kitchen could use a good cleaning. Emme walked into the parlor, dazed, fighting the dream-like memory. She stopped in the hall and glanced up. The photograph of Vanora Dabnet had been clumsily hung, a nail piercing the paper just above her mother's head. She smiled at the demon's poorly executed thoughtfulness.
"Be mine for all time," said a gentle voice. "We are promised to each other. You gave your blood, your promise to me."
"Shut up, Lou." She passed the picture and strode to the bedroom. "That was a long time ago. I didn't understand what the hell was going on." She smiled at her mussed bed, remembering the night before. Drops of blood dotted the sheets and she decided she'd do the laundry after her shower. Padding into the bathroom, she sighed at the memories that plagued her.
Her father held her down, his thick fingers biting into her skin, into her shoulders. She tried not to look at him. Lucien had a knife. That much was enough to break the calming spell of his touch. He had a knife and moonlight danced across its shiny blade. She felt it cutting her palm, the pain suddenly fresh though it had occurred ten years ago.
"Emme!" her mother cried. "No! You can't have my daughter!"
She felt the wind changing. The sudden rush of emotions her mother always caused entered the garden, breaking powerful enchantments, severing the many holds over Emme's young mind.
She turned the shower on, waited until mist rose from the water, and then stepped in. Heat rushed over her bare skin, turning it bright pink. She dipped her head beneath the gushing water and waited.
She looked so small and insignificant, her deep-set eyes flashing with malice. "What do you think you're doing, Lucien?" You've bewitched my husband long enough. Now you want my child?" She stomped her petite foot against the garden path. Emme looked up, so very high above at the tall man that loomed over her. She realized her blood glittered on his knife. Desire raged in her, thwarting her senses. She knew she ought to get up, to get away from this strange scene. Her mother was right. This moment was wrong.
With a flick of his hand, Lou sent Emme's father pitching into the stone wall. He made no sound as he fell, caught deep within the mage's spell. Little Mrs. Dabnet didn't waver though.
"You think you can stop me?" Lucien asked, his voice imposing in its resonance. He sneered.
Emme washed her hair and leaned into the shower wall. She heard Nazan approaching in her memory, even as he entered her bedroom, his hooves clacking on the wooden floor, but in the memory they sounded so different...
The earth rumbled under his hooves; great booming steps announced the demon's approach. She'd never seen her father's pets before, but she knew he kept them beneath the house. She'd peered though the basement window late at night when no one knew she'd escaped from bed, but the darkness only allowed her to glimpse shifting shadows. When her friends came over to play dolls and tea party, she sent them away time and again for fear they'd hear her father torturing the unfortunate beings in the basement.
Nazan came toward her mother, touched her slight shoulder in a fleeting way, then advanced upon Lucien. The altar teetered on its side spilling Emme onto the garden path. She felt her mother's small fingers around her waist, tugging her, forcing her to flee. She looked back though, and saw the mage and the demon begin their battle. That night was the last night she'd been in her father's house until after he died.
The shower curtain slid on its rod. Emme glanced up at Nazan. "I remember what you did," she said.
He nodded and stepped into the shower with her.
She turned her gaze down at the water swirling into the drain. "Everything that happened to you after that night is my fault." Thick arms encircled her small frame as he held her. The demon drew her up against his chest and kissed her forehead. Emme surrendered to him and the memory. She let him hold her as they sat in the tub and the water rushed over their bodies.
"Your mother asked me to save you. She didn't want you to be a slave as she was. It was that night that she realized she could escape, that it only took a diversion to release your father's hold over her."
"You saved us." She kissed his neck, grateful.
"And you're saving me now."
He leaned backward, his shoulders resting on the back of the narrow shower. His wings circled her, hiding her in a layer of black skin. She clung to the demon and wondered how much longer he'd be able to remain with her. He purred like an overgrown cat, the pleased humming in his throat thrumming in time with the water. He rested his chin on the top of her head and rocked from side to side.
"While we were sleeping, I remembered things."
Her breath caught and she held it, waiting for him to speak. His tail found her ankle and vined around her skin until the pointed, gnarled top rested atop her knee.
"What did you remember?" she murmured, fearing his answer, for she knew it would lead him away from her. She'd intended for him to go, to be set free just as the black widow spider she'd found. Now though, she felt the pain of it. Emme didn't want him to go.
Nazan sighed. "Your mother always made me blueberry pie. She'd bake one just for me." He lowered his cheek to Emme's and ran his skin against hers. "Every seventh day. She told me tales of angels and light, of a place where I was loved. I thought she meant my wife, and I let my memories of the truth hide in that dream. Your mother knew what I was. She tried as you do, to set me free, to send me on my way."
Emme turned her face up and kissed him softly. His big lips felt too large for her mouth, but she conquered them, determined. He met her kiss with passion, his mouth opening so their tongues could touch and taste. They kissed until the water ran cold as ice. The infernal heat of Nazan's body kept her warm. His wings held their passion and shared temperature close.
"Emme?" he asked, breathless as he lifted his mouth from hers. "I need to tell you. I remember my father now."
He carried her to the bed, her black hair damp and hanging in her eyes as she tried not to cry. Emme clung to the demon and said nothing. She didn't want to talk about his leaving. It would happen soon enough. Outside the weather turned. Rain tapped at the windows and pattered on the roof. Thunder rumbled in a lazy war far in the distance. Nazan set her on the mattress and climbed up beside her. He stroked her hair away from her face. Lightning flashed. The power in the house surged and went out, leaving them in gray light.
"He's calling to me," Nazan whispered. "I remember the way, the light. What should I do?"
She closed her eyes and felt him leaning close, the soft heat of his breath so tempting. His thick fingers ran along her cheek, down the side of her neck and hesitated. She curled close to him, pressing every inch of her skin to his.
"Answer me." He kissed her forehead.
She shook her head. "I can't tell you what to do anymore." She traced his chest, the heat of his ebony skin leaving tingles in the pads of her fingers. "You have to do what you know is right."
"It feels right to be with you."
She gazed up into those murky pools that served as his eyes. His deep frown made him look sinister, as if a demon could appear any other way. His brows furrowed. Emme felt bad about it. "You should go to your father. Ask his forgiveness and take your place where you belong."
He snorted, his wide nostrils flaring. "You told me to take you, three times. Do you still want me?"
She pressed her lips together.
He advanced and crushed into her tight line of a mouth with ardent need. The kiss held passion and felt almost brutal as he swept his tongue past her lips. The demon used a rough touch to turn her on her back. His fingers gripped her wrists. Emme's arms were forced straight, her hands pinned over her head. He straddled her and his hardening cock fell across her abdomen, heavy, thick and readying.
"Please," she began, but her moaning voice cut off as he thrust against her body. She wanted him as much as she had every time he came close to her. He stirred a craving in her body. I need him.
The bed creaked as he shifted his weight. Nazan lifted his lips and studied her face. His knee slipped between her legs and parted them. "Say it. Tell me to take you. I'll do it."
His other knee came beside the first. Slowly, he let his legs slide straight. The tip of his erection met her clit, edging lower and with a jerk, she felt the head at her entrance. Her pussy was wet for him, aching to be filled with his impossible length. The weight of him above her demonstrated his strength.
"You would damn yourself a second time for me?" Her words came out just above a whisper. The rain pounded the house harder. Thunder crackled overhead. In the flash of lightning that followed, Emme realized the demon was done growing.
His wings flared for a moment as he regarded her. Nazan's face contorted in a grimace of confusion. "Do you want me?" he asked.
She heard the pain in his voice, the terrible tension in it. "More than anything." She fought the urge to wriggle down and help him make up his mind. Just once, one time and then he can go back. Emme drew a pregnant breath and blew it out. "You must go to your father. Twice damned, you'd remain here or worse, in some other hell."
Nazan groaned. He threw up his arms and rolled off her to stand at the side of the bed. She watched him wipe his eyes with the back of his arm. "Help me out the door."
"Now?"
"You want me to go then help me!"
Emme grasped the sheet and pulled it free, drawing the thin fabric around her nakedness. "The back door. Follow me there."
His hand found hers. "No. I'll walk beside you, never behind again." He snorted out a sigh and together the two of them left the bedroom, passed through the hall and the parlor, through a mudroom and out the back door. Emme turned the locks and stepped outside into the chilling rain. In seconds, it soaked through her bed sheet. Nazan gripped her fingers tight, glanced at the burgeoning gray clouds that churned across an unseen sky and squinted.
She recognized his look when the lightning revealed his face. He could finally see the illumination of heaven, however obscured it was to the human eye. He bent his head and kissed her cheek. Without pomp or ceremony, he strode across the grass, his hooves smashing the new round of fallen leaves.
His wings spread out and he started to sprint. The wind burst through the yard, billowing the black skin that stretched between each spire. Nazan took to the air. Emme watched, her eyes welling. He climbed past the oak tress, high into the storm. She held her hand over her brows and waited until his black body disappeared into the clouds.
Tears spilled down her cheeks, hot compared to the cold November rain. After ten minutes, the downpour eased. The late midday sun beat through the clouds and a ray of golden light spilled down onto the earth. As a child, she thought such things were paths to heaven made to guide lost souls home.
Emme backed into her house and shut the door. "Please God, let him find his way."
She'd never felt so tired in all her life. Wet and cold, she made her way to the kitchen and set the coffeepot beneath the faucet. "Time to wake up, Emme Dabnet. Time to smell the coffee and finish cleaning this old house." She set the pot in place, scooped grounds into the filter and stood there watching it dribble and cough out the magic drink.
She flung her sheet over the back of a chair. Standing nude at the counter and feeling completely mental, she doctored her mug with sugar and milk, and poured the coffee in. She sipped at it.
The house needed her and she, in a strange way, needed to be needed.
Dressed in a bright orange housedress and wearing her favorite slippers, Emme trudged down to the basement, gave the haunted room a once over and smiled. "Clean." A feeling of accomplishment washed over her. She wanted to rid the home of everything vile that may have remained. As she went back up the stairs, she tried to think of something, anything other than the demon. At the door, she flicked off the light. Closing it behind her, she locked it and silently vowed never to go back down there. The next task on her list was her father's study.
The stuffy, wide room housed strange imported boxes from all reaches of the world. Her father collected them in every shape and size, from hatboxes, chests, jewelry boxes and great trunks. She wondered what terrible treasures he'd hidden away within them. Not one to dawdle, she began with the largest one, a studded leather trunk that could have served as a coffin for a small child. Emme sat down before it, undid the clasp and lifted the ancient lid.
Its contents smelled of age, dust and in a faint way of formaldehyde. She began unwrapping layers of burlap until she found the secret. The creature's eyes were glass now, large round orbs of blue, wide and fixed open. It didn't move for it had died long ago. She reached inside and picked it up, cradling the dead thing in her arms. It resembled a frail child made of clay. Some misfortunate taxidermist had been coerced into stuffing the imp, shaping its skin over a wooden model with its arms arched, the dagger-claws curled in a menacing way. Its wings were tattered at the edges. She turned it over, palming its leathery stomach and frowned at the scars across its back.
Emme set the dead thing on the floor and opened her palm. The same sort of line crossed her skin, a thick, taut mark cut there ten years ago. Its origin forgotten for so long, but not anymore. She knew its meaning now.
The power came on, and someone rapped at the door.
Emme narrowed her eyes and frowned. She stood and left her father's collection. The parlor held lengthening shadows as the sun began to set outside. She turned on the lights and strode toward the front door. "Who is it?"
The clouds felt icy when he passed through them. They left moist spots across his nude body as he flapped the enormous wings he'd sprouted since meeting Emme. Nazan wept as he flew, feeling the urge to curl those wings about his body and fall back to earth. He remembered falling the first time, and he dreaded that emptiness. He hadn't fallen willingly then, he'd been pushed---by his father.
"Come to me, my son. Let the ice quench the flames of your skin and your soul."
The familiarity of His voice sent shivers through Nazan. He flew faster, gaining height above the fattened clouds. The demon burst into the upper atmosphere and felt the heat of the sun fading though it glowed across his skin. "Father!" he cried out, his eyes seeking. "Father, I need you!"
The blue of the sky dissipated, giving way to stars and the universe. He flew with lightning speed, awed by his memories of heaven. He remembered everything now, his love for Ana, his denial of his father and after his fall and metamorphosis, the sharp memory of his Ana finding him by the well.
She came to him in her bridal wrap, anxious, her dark eyes alight with love, and her face changed by the glorious smile on her lips. "My Nazan," Ana called. "My love, you've come back to me at last. Tell me, did your father approve of our union?" Just her voice, the lilting sound of it seemed like music to him then, and now. He hated the memory, the way he tried to hide his form from her when she edged around the palms.
She stood above him, silent for a long while, the disbelief on her face changing. "By Allah!" she screamed and turned away from him, running, fleeing the horror which he'd become.
"Ana!" he wailed and held his blackened arms to her. His fingers bore reptilian claws, and at his shoulders his wings were gnarled, misshapen things that furled and curled without the soft whisper of feathers that she'd so loved to touch.
The blackness of eternity embraced him as he rode the airless waves toward his end. Tears slid down his cheeks, and he licked the sides of his mouth when they met his lips. The salty taste reminded him of Emme and the circle she'd found him in. A simple barrier that held him imprisoned in that cold, nightmarish basement for years. She'd released him from it, and set him free a final time to find his father.
"Come, Nazan. I have not forgotten you." The deep voice shook his muscular frame with cold. He felt he was turning to a solid being of ice. His tears tried to flow and soon froze in crackling lines across his cheeks. Where sweat seared his armpits, his father's strange magic froze away the heat. A mist of stars enveloped him, and Nazan closed his eyes. Soon they froze shut.
He was so cold he could not shiver, breathe or even move. His body floated in that murky mist of time and heaven and soon, he felt his father's touch upon his shoulder. "Do you renounce Shemhazai?" he asked.
Nazan could not answer. He wanted to shout yes, to beg for forgiveness for having disobeyed his father, but his lips did not respond. Ice blistered there and clenched his mouth shut.
"I know, my son," his father said. "I see that you do." The hand that grasped his shoulder ran its way across his broad back. "You see now why I did this, why I had to punish you. She did not love you, did she? She loved the idea, the unique presence of an angel, but not the truth."
Thick arms strained to embrace him and he wanted to cry, to wail out his pain. His heart slowed until it stopped, and he felt his father's body pressing against his back. "Your match will know you anywhere. She will not forsake you for the changes of faith and time. You know that now."
The old man's lips touched Nazan's cheek and frigid air lingered there. "Go to her now as you once were and see if she loves you still."
His mind closed off from this holy meeting and he felt his body go limp. The ice that encased him with its solid hold cracked and broke away in chunks. His eyes opened in slits, and he saw the lights of countless stars slipping past like arcs of fire. Oh God, I'm falling again, he thought.
Space cut into his skin, and he felt the weightlessness of his wings. He stretched them out, his shoulders easing in to the new shape and soon, he plummeted with grace, past the sun, the Earth's single moon and burning through the planet's atmosphere. His chest ached with pain. He'd gone back to his father, speechless, and the sweet meeting had lasted but a drop of a moment. As he neared the planet's surface, he felt the tickle of his silver hair against his bare back. Ana had always admired his hair, calling it an old man's blessing for a young man's handsome face. She used to curl her fingers in it and twist the locks between them.
He thought on her death. Her husband stood at the grave, his round body jolted by weeping spasms. She'd forgotten Nazan and married another, bore him seven sons and carried on in the desert, harvesting dates and tending goats until the day she died of age. He used to watch her in the night, when creatures of darkness and shadows walked unnoticed. He cried each time she sang and missed those first moments of passion that he shared with her.
"Emme," he said as his black wings curved to ride the air. His arms glowed copper in the sunset and his body felt tight and firm rather than bulky as it had before. "She will know me like this. She will know me in any shape my father chooses."
An angel once more in shape and mind, he lighted at the edge of Ellory Wood, his bare feet struggling for purchase on an oak limb. The world had changed in so many years, and he'd watched as well as he could from his many prisons. He felt weary from the journey and free, so alive and content. My Emme will love me, he mused. A smile spread across his lips.
Nazan leaned into the tree trunk and folded his wings around his nakedness. He wriggled his toes and laughed at the feeling. Hooves had been so stiff and loud. Now he could walk unnoticed over wooden floors. The thought of creeping up on Emme and sliding his arms about her waist made his body surge with a new heat. He savored it and reached down to cup his penis, marveling at its shape and its burning need to find her.
Resisting her lusty advances proved a difficult challenge. In the end, when he'd left her, he'd wanted to give in. She'd pushed him back to heaven, and he'd gone with a heavy heart. "My father forgave me," he whispered, and his mind eased over the release of weight on his soul.
With his new vision, the world appeared in crisper colors. The shadows receded and he heard a familiar sound, the rumble of a mustang's engine as it sped along the winding road to Emme's house. Lucien drove different ones, but each sounded the same to Nazan. They spiked the faded pain that rested in his back where scars used to plague his demonic skin. He didn't have to reach behind to know that his father had erased them.
He stood straight and spread his raven wings. Nazan leapt into flight, ready to battle the mage once more.
A.J. looked frailer than she remembered, his body wiry and his cheeks gaunt beneath his sallow eyes. He wore overalls over bare skin and work boots stained with dry mud. "You got big!" he announced. "Why, I recall when you stood just kneehigh to a grasshopper. Used to catch them darn things too. And you'd steal cherries from my trees." He held a plate topped with tin foil against his chest, clutching it with both liver-spotted hands. He smiled a crooked, yellow grin. "Maisy made you brownies. Still hot."
Emme giggled like a child. "Oh, Mr. Benton, come in." She stepped aside and let him totter in. She shut the door and turned the bolt, just in case. "How is the Mrs.?"
"She's still loud." He moved through the parlor, his head bobbing this way and that, surveying to report later to the gossipy ones no doubt. "Looks like you need some furniture."
"Yeah. I had to get rid of a lot of things. Dad was a packrat. The sofas that used to be in here were full of holes. One had a spring sticking right through the cushion."
They stopped in the kitchen, and he set the plate on the table. A.J. peeled back the tin foil and chose the biggest brownie for himself. He took an overly large bite that left a smear of chocolate at the side of his mouth and chewed in thoughtful silence. When he swallowed it down, he grinned a toothy, chocolate smile. "Was that Lou I saw you with last night?"
"Yeah, he's coming around again."
A.J. nodded. "He has a hankerin' for you, girl. Better watch out."
Emme sat across from her neighbor. She took a brownie and held it. They were still warm, hot even. The chunks of chocolate looked like melted pools. "Lou made a pass at me last night."
A.J. leaned forward, his lips quivering. "You want me to call the po-lice?"
"No. It's nothing like that, I just wanted to---"
"I know all about that date rape. He's an older man, too. I wouldn't 'spect that of him, seemed like such a gentleman---"
"Just keep an eye out," she said. "In case he comes back. If you see him speeding on up the road, you go ahead and call the police.
Emme sat on the back porch and watched the sun set beyond the hill. She rocked in the old wooden glider her mother used to favor and decided tomorrow she'd sand it down and repaint it bright green. Her mother loved green. The growl of a car driving up the road didn't startle her. She expected Lucien to return, to try to claim her.
The cherry tree that used to be in the center of her father's garden was long gone. She guessed it burned up that fateful night years ago. She stared at the empty place where the tree once stood. Emme got up and stretched her arms high. She had no weapons, nothing with which to physically defend herself and her magic, a strength she inherited from both parents, was always at odds with itself. Light and dark did not mix well. She'd never unleashed it, but tonight she knew she might have to.
The car had to be coming up the length of road after the turn. He was only a short walk from her door. She strode across the lawn and leaves, and took her place in her father's garden. She hummed softly, calming her nerves.
The doorbell donged within the house. She waited. After a long while, she heard a frantic knock. It rattled her. Emme wanted this night to be over with for good or ill. She looked down at the place where the altar had stood. Three humble grave markers were there now, one for the dead imp, another for a pixie and the third for the dead sparrow she found when she was raking leaves a little earlier in the day.
"Emme!"
She knew it was Lucien, that he felt her presence and at any moment would come round the side yard searching for her. Sitting at the edge of the raised bed on the cold stone wall, she frowned.
The sky turned a shade of blue so rich that it pained her to stare up at the stars littering it. The moon lipped the edge of the horizon, a glowing orange color. His footsteps crunched in the dead leaves. "Emme, I know you're out here. I can feel it. You can feel me too, can't you?"
A rush of heat spread through her body, wetting her pussy and hardening her small nipples. She gripped the rough stone and tried to resist. She thought of her mother, of running, and the many houses they kept moving into. They hid for years after they left here. They finally settled in a cabin near a lake. She thought of that lake and how serene it made her feel.
A toad croaked in the bushes nearby. Lou came around the side of the house, his head held high and his broad shoulders straight and true as always. Fall leaves fluttered around his dress shoes. Once more, he wore a business suit.
"Em. There you are." He entered the garden, passing beneath the arch and halted. He held nothing, not a briefcase or a dagger. His green eyes glittered in the waning light. "Look, I'm sorry about last night. I didn't mean to scare you like that, but you gotta feel it too. Tell me you do."
He took a few steps, before noticing the graves. Shaking his head, he frowned. "You're degrading the power in this place by doing that."
"I know what I'm doing." She fought the urge to stand and reach for him. He'd left remnants of his soul in hers, pieces that made her long for his touch. She wanted those gone now.
Lou sat on the edge of the raised bed wall, only an arm's length away. She sensed he wanted to sit closer, to clutch her hand in his and touch her in other ways. His gaze roved over her body and she felt its heated touch graze every inch of her skin. "Where's your pet?" he whispered, a lascivious smirk dancing on his lips. "Huddling in his circle still?"
"Hardly." Her foot tapped against the side of the wall. "How would you like to be left in a circle like that? Tortured and forgotten."
"As long as you did the torturing, I think I could grow to like it. What would you do to me, Em?" He reached back, plucked a leaf from a Damiana plant and slipped it in his mouth.
"That all depends. I'd like to give you back what you gifted me that night. If I must do it by encircling you, I will."
He chewed for a moment, his eyes trained on her face. Once more, he reached and plucked, slipping a few leaves past his thin lips. "I don't want it back. I want you."
"You think you want me, but ask yourself why." She ran a hand through her slick hair and eyed him.
He scooted across the distance until their shoulders met. That cool sizzle caused by his touch rippled through her body, a peaceful feeling much like watching the lake by her mother's cabin. She decided he chose that projected scene by plucking the image from her mind. "What's not to want about you?"
She opened her mouth to answer and he cupped her cheek in his palm, his thumb pressing against her lips.
"I understand you. I know you. We're made of the same magic." He bent his head as if he might kiss her, but instead, Lou pressed his forehead to hers. "You've wanted me a long time. Your mother made you forget."
"Mum never made anyone do anything." She tilted her face to stare him down.
"No?" He smiled with half his mouth, a sideways sneer of sarcasm. He was strong, always so sure of himself, and the scariest thing about him was that she saw no madness in his eyes. Lucien was perfectly sane. "Then why did the demon attack me that night? Hm?"
"To save me from you."
He laughed at her. "Such creatures have no free will. You should know that. Didn't your father make you read his journals? Demons are messengers from a higher source. The ones that walk among us have merely lost their way or they've forgotten their master."
"You're wrong."
"I'm not wrong. I know what they are, what makes them survive. The demon was emaciated when you found him, wasn't he?"
His fingers fell away from her face and gripped her hand, touching the thick scar across her palm." He wanted you for his master, didn't he?"
Emme felt frozen in place as he touched his mouth to hers. His fingers pressed into the scar he'd made on her hand. Pain shot up her arm in a startling shower of fire. His mouth tasted of the Damiana, an aphrodisiac that calmed her. Darkness closed in, shadows swirling around her, threatening to cut off the light in her soul.
Nazan flew into the inky black that hazed over Emme's house. He circled, sniffing the air with an angel's inferior sense of smell. He missed his demon nose at that moment. The darkness that settled over the yard below was unnatural, a spell created by his enemy, the mage. He drew his wings against his body and dove toward the uncertainty. He knew she wanted Lucien, but he knew she wanted him as well. The mage made her want him, forced her to see him as a thing of intrigue. She is mine, Nazan thought. My Emme will see through his lies.
The cloudy magic slowed his descent with memories of pain and suffering. He felt the knife cross his skin years before, the burn of cruelty in its honed touch a reminder that he was and always will be a follower, a slave. The men's voices echoed in the basement as they circled him, their feral eyes glittering in the candlelight.
He fanned his wings and caught the air, bare, human-shaped feet lighting on the thick grass. Once in her yard, Lucien's magic faded and Nazan saw him kissing his Emme. The mage held her hand in his. A jealous pang filled the angel's chest. He gasped for air and started toward the archway, wishing he could snarl or growl. "Let her go."
Lou grasped her hair and tugged her backward, turning to face him. The mage stood. He gathered Emme against his body, one arm crossing over her slight chest, pinning her there. Her eyes appeared empty, devoid of the hope Nazan always saw there, that determined belief that everything would be okay with time, work and patience.
Madness threatened the newly remade angel's mind. He strode forth, his feathery black wings folding behind him. "Release her!"
Lou narrowed his eyes. "As you wish." He tossed her aside like a sack of garbage. Emme landed in the Cyprus mulch beside the garden path. Her limp body remained still, her face locked in an expressionless mask.
"What have you done?" Nazan's bare feet crossed the cold flagstone in silence. He stood before the mage, his fist raised.
"I've only claimed what's mine." Lou stepped toward his opponent, his hands lax at his sides, his eyes shifting up and down the angel's form. "Who sent you, messenger? Why have you come?"
"You don't know me?" Nazan's feathers ruffled behind him in his anger. He circled Lucien, ready to down the monster of a man should he make a false move. Sirens sounded in the distance.
"Every worthy Christian follower has an angel. So you can't belong to me." One brow rose over a slanting green eye. "Certainly, you don't belong to her. She's not worshipped any god in her lifetime."
"My Father does not require worship, only faith."
Lucien snickered. His laughter echoed in the enchanted garden, bouncing off the plants and dancing in the shadows. He was a vile man ... but, Nazan realized, perhaps Lucien was not a man at all. He bridged the distance between them, reached back and willed his weapon into existence. The flaming sword of wrath crackled through the night air. The burning blade met its mark and gashed a violent cut across the mage's chest.
Lucien fell backward, caught his hold on the wall, and looked down at his injury. "Oh, you'll pay for that, angel." He threw off his suit jacket, unbuttoned the remainder of his shirt, and threw it to the ground. "Two can play at that game." He reached back and summoned his own weapon. The blade came crackling from the darkness, a sword of mist and shadow. It arced in the air as Nazan leapt away.
He blinked at the strangeness of the familiar weapon. The name of its wielder rested on the tip of his tongue. He faced Lou, readied his weapon and spit the vile word out. "Shemhazai!"
Lucien cackled. "Oh? You know me, my brother?" He swept his blade through the air. It moved without sound until it met the edge of Nazan's. Fire sparked and spat its vengeance. His arms tightened, his muscles bulged. The bloody cut across Lou's chest glittered as crimson dribbled down his skin. "Yes, that was the name our father gave me." He clenched his teeth and lunged forth, throttling Nazan into the iron arch at the entry. "Tell me," he began. "Has Father forgotten me?"
Lou's knee came up hard and crushed into Nazan's crotch. Pain pounded through his body at the indignant blow. He cried out, his breath dangerous and unsteady. Holding his sword against his enemy's became difficult.
"You can't beat me." Lou's mouth twisted in a hate-filled snarl. "Father plays games. He had favorites, and I was one. He made me stronger than the others, more powerful than you."
Nazan grunted, an old habit from years of being in another body. He shook off his aggressor and raised his blade. "She's mine!"
"Wrong." Lucien lunged, violent, sure of himself.
Pain seized Nazan's right wing. Muscles squelched and severed. A black mass slumped against the arch. It fell to the ground in a heap of feathers and gore. Nazan screamed.
"Stupid angel. What do you need wings for on Earth? Why would you want to fly back to heaven when there's so much pussy to find here? Don't you know how they want us? How they desire us?" The blade whispered.
Nazan countered the second attack, but barely. His sword slid down the length of Lucien's. The edge caught in the stones on the ground and he watched, helpless, as the mage cut off his remaining wing. It thumped hard on the path. Blood ran hot down his back. Lucien kicked him in the chest and sent him careening backward to the earth. "Bastard," he cursed. "You have no father."
"That's right." Lucien sneered. "And now I have a new treasure. I'll keep you in the basement while I fuck her in the bedroom. If you're a good little angel, I'll fuck her in front of you."
Nazan let go of his blade. He looked to the heavens, wondering why this battle had gone so wrong. "Father," he whispered. "Why have you forsaken me?"
Standing above him, Lucien sighed. "Stupid angel. You know nothing." He started away, his dress shoes tapping on the path.
Nazan turned to watch him and noticed the bumps on Lou's shoulders where wings once protruded. He wondered if the fallen angel had cut them off himself.
Lucien lifted Emme's petite body and heaved her over his shoulder like a sack of grain. His sword dropped to the ground and sank into the shadows. "Come on then. Come see your new home. She's a fine housekeeper, likes to keep things tidy." He slapped her ass and strode past Nazan toward the house.
He crawled across the lawn after them, his need to protect Emme from Lou driving past the ache in his shoulders. The loss of his wings hurt, but not as much as it would if he lost her as well.
Lou left the back door ajar. Nazan crawled across the wooden floor. Behind him, a crimson trail of blood followed. The sirens were louder now. Someone had called the police. Blue and red lights strobed in the parlor through the front window. Nazan heard the men moving outside. He tasted their uncertainty in the air.
Crawling faster, he found Lou in the bedroom.
Lucien pushed away his pants, oblivious to his surroundings. Above his ass, a stump stood out, the remains of a tail. He'd cut that away as well. He'd laid Emme on the mattress and parted her legs. With a knowing glance over his shoulder, he grinned. "You want to watch, don't you?"
Emme moaned. Her foot swayed for a moment, before falling still.
"She's mine," Nazan whispered. "You can't have her. Even if you fuck her, she'll still be mine. She loves me."
"Right." Lou shook his head and leaned forward, his attention on the woman.
Nazan stood up, his fury unbound. He burst forth at a run and grabbed Lou in a headlock, forcing him away from her. They battled in the bedroom, blood slicking the floor and sending each slipping into the wall. When Lucien tumbled beneath him, Nazan grasped his brother's throat and choked him.
"What ... are ... you?" he asked the vile fallen angel.
Lucien's eyes bulged. He struggled and fought. Nazan lifted him by his neck and bashed his head against the floor again and again. Finally, his eyes rolled up into his head. His breathing halted and gray, curving horns came into being, spreading from Lucien's temples.
"You hid it," Nazan said, understanding. "You are what I was, a demon." He let go and stared down at the body. The fallen creature's breathing came in stuttering spasms as his lungs reached for air. Nazan reached back, fumbled in the thin air and summoned the sword of God's wrath a final time. He stood up, still straddling Lucien and brought the blade high. He swung. The demon's head cleaved free. Ice crackled and popped, staving the heat of Lucien's body. Our father has come for you, Nazan knew. The body froze over and burst in a scattering mess of frozen shards. He backed to the bed, lifted his prize and fled.
Emme woke in a forest, her dress soaked with blood and her head pounding with a nasty migraine. She stared at the moon high above the trees for a long time and thought of Nazan. She felt something missing inside her, an evil piece of her being lodged free, the sliver of Lucien's soul that he'd worked into her on that night in her father's garden. Crickets chirped a lulling tune and oak leaves rustled. She felt at peace.
Fingers curled with hers. She turned her head and stared into the stranger's eyes. The night washed them of color, and she wanted to believe they were black and as devoid of irises as Nazan's. The man lying on his side in the dead leaves beside her forced a pained smile.
"My Emme," he muttered. His eyelids slipped shut.
The coppery scent of blood rent the air. She sat up, unwilling to let go of his hand. He looked like a man, his skin far too dark in the eerie moonlight. His silver hair shimmered as a cool breeze passed through the trees. He was handsome and hurt, and she sensed that his appearance was an illusion. Magic wove its way through her mind, and she sent it forth to caress the stranger's thoughts. She read his emptiness, the sorrow in his turning dreams. Her heart thrummed faster and her eyes widened.
"Oh, my God," she whispered. Emme bent over him and saw the wounds on his back. Gobbets of flesh and feathers clung to his ebony skin. She let go of his hand and tore at the skirt of her dress. With shaking fingers, she dressed his injuries as best she could.
She sat beside him and held his hand trying to remember how she'd come to this place. Water trickled over rocks nearby. Bullfrogs croaked and leaves rustled. She felt safe in this part of the woods. The memory of Lucien kissing her was the last thing her mind recalled. From there, she remembered nothing else.
Dawn set the sun into motion, lighting the forest in muted shades of gold. Emme opened her eyes and stared at the colors. A heavy arm rested over her waist. Something hard pressed into her ass, familiar in its urgency. "Nazan?" she muttered and tried to turn. His grip on her body tightened, holding her in place.
"Be still," he whispered.
A hot tongue licked the back of her neck. She trembled. Teeth nipped her skin. Wet kisses left trails along her shoulder as the stranger piqued her lust. "I want you," he said against her ear. "My Emme."
He thrust his cock against her ass. Its length wedged between her cheeks. She held still, though she felt the urge to wriggle in order to set him in position. He cupped her breast, squeezing it, kneading the softness until her nipple stood out. She looked down, expecting claws to extend from his black fingers, but only fingernails, short and neat, bit into her skin.
"I came back for you," he whispered against her cheek. He turned her to face him.
Emme gasped at his beauty. She'd read about angels, luminous beings possessing godly splendor. He did indeed fit the description. His symmetrical face glowed in the sunlight. His eyes, black and swirling with rainbow colors, held her attention. His pert lips were not nearly as large as they had been as a demon, but still, she longed to kiss them. Silver bangs fell across his forehead. She reached up to brush them away. "You're so..."
He touched the tip of his nose to hers, brushing it side to side. "Hm?"
"Magnificent."
"You don't want me to be a demon again?"
"I thought you were handsome then." She strained to kiss him, and he pulled his head back, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.
"You have dark tastes."
She giggled at him. "You're dark enough for me." Emme laid her hand on his cheek and stared at him in wonder. "Your wings?"
"There is nowhere I want to fly. Not now, not with you beside me. The skin has healed over. Your love binds my wounds and heals the hollow in my soul."
"Yours does that to me as well."
"Do you still want me?" he murmured. He grabbed her ass, forcing her hips against his body. His penis dug into her belly.
"I wouldn't damn you a second time. She watched his brows furrow. A hint of his prior form remained in that simple expression. "What? Not the right answer?"
He rolled her beneath him and spread her legs with his. "I've chosen my damnation." Nazan kissed her hard, in a hungry way. His tongue, less wide and demanding than before, crushed against hers. His body weighed on her chest as she gasped for air between his forceful kisses. His hand remained between her ass and the earth, holding her stationary. In a desperate action, he plunged his bulky cock deep inside her. She whimpered under the impaling. "You're mine," he said in a husky voice. "My damnation, now and forever."
She tried to raise her hips, imploring his body to rock, but he disobeyed, motionless and stiff within her. "Not yet."
Emme closed her eyes and raised her chin, arching her back to feel the heat of his chest. His heartbeat pounded out its unsteady rhythm. She wished he would begin, that he would pull out and drive himself in, but he tortured her by waiting. He pushed his hand between their bodies, his thumb searching for her clit. Skin met skin in a languid massage of sparking nerves. Her channel throbbed with each pressing caress he stroked into her swelling clitoris.
Leaves crackled beneath her body. The sounds of the forest, free and moving all around, made her feel like an exhibitionist tempting a voyeur. Her harried breathing caught. Nazan drew precise circles on the most sensitive part of her body. She moaned. When she tried to move, he gripped her butt tight, his silent command for her to stop moving. He teased until she edged on the cusp of an orgasm. As if he knew she teetered there, he stopped.
She opened her eyes. "Don't stop."
His fantastic eyes narrowed in his lust. He swept his hands to her hips, clutching them and lifted his body so that he knelt, his erection filling her. He began the first thrust, slow and controlled, before pulling away to fill her with his length. She threw her arms above her head as he throttled her body, heaving her toward him harder each time. Leaves caught in her hair, the debris on the forest floor clung with dew to her skin. They both moaned in frantic gasps as the pace heightened.
Emme clenched her legs about his waist as he slammed into her. She swooned as the throes of her passion consumed her reason. Her thighs quavered. Her pussy embraced his penis, forcing out cool bursts of semen as they climaxed.
He pulled her up against his sweat-beaded body and clung to her. She hugged him back, her limbs shaking, and her body pleasantly numb. Emme ran her fingers over his shoulders down to the place where the stumps of his wings ought to be. She found only bare skin, naked, human and devoid of scarring.
"What's happened?" she murmured. "Nazan?"
He kissed her neck, his lips gentle. "I'm hungry."
"What's happened to your body?"
He drew her back to look at him. His eyes had faded from their unique rainbow hue. Whites framed the circular irises. Plain brown rimmed his black pupils. In every way, Emme realized, he appeared human.
"I chose you," he said. "My Father approved."
Her brow furled in wonder and confusion. She regarded the handsome man he had become. She intended to free him, to return him to the world of demons and angels, yet he'd returned to her a changed being. He'd chosen humanity instead. "What are you hungry for?" she asked for lack of anything better to say.
He chuckled a low rumbling laugh that reminded her of leathery wings and great, curving horns. His smile widened over human teeth that once appeared sharp and dagger-like. "I'm hungry for dessert."
Anastasia Rabiyah writes erotic romance, paranormal erotic romance, and fantasy. She often crosses genres in order to follow her muses into the darkness where they seek out destiny in all its forms. She believes in fairies, demons, angels, magic, passion, chocolate, supportive friends, e-books and writing critique groups. Her deepest desire is to pursue her creative dreams and realize them. Every spare moment she devotes to writing for her haunting muses.
Visit www.forbiddenpublications.com for information on additional titles by this and other authors.

