Mark of the Demon

  I spoke the demon’s name.

  “Rysehl.”

  The instant the name left my mouth, the wind and the light vanished, as if they had never been. The name of the demon leaped out harshly into the sudden silence as my eyes burned with the afterimage of the glowing diagram. The fire still cast its light, but after the brilliance of before, I felt as if I was staring into pitch blackness.

  I invoked the bindings quickly, then lowered my arms. I cautiously tested the protections, letting out my breath in satisfaction as I sensed a presence within the circle. My vision slowly cleared as I held the bindings carefully, ready and waiting for the demon to test me, to try to escape me. Rysehl never put up more than token resistance, and I already had the offering for it ready and waiting—a six-pack of Barq’s root beer. The lower demons seemed to enjoy being summoned—like kids on an adventure—and their taste in offerings ran to simple items that they found unusual and interesting. Offerings for higher demons were never simple. The razor-thin scars on my forearm were a testament to that.

  I blinked furiously, peering into the circle, trying to pick out the small canine figure of the demon.

  I heard a low growl and I tightened my grip on the bindings reflexively, bracing myself for a tussle with the scrappy little demon.

  The growl repeated, resonating throughout the room, and was far different than any sound I’d ever heard come from any level of demon.

  “Who … dares …”

  I nearly jumped out of my skin as a stab of shock and confusion speared through me. That was not the voice of a luhrek. This was a voice filled with power. A voice filled with menace. A voice that promised pain and suffering and a lingering death.

  My heart began to slam in my chest as I looked upon the crouched figure in the center of the dark diagram. This obviously wasn’t Rysehl. I’d screwed something up, and somehow a higher-level demon had come through. I don’t understand! I thought I did everything right! My thoughts whirled in a brief burst of panicked chaos before I was able to force myself into enough focus to be able to think. The bindings. Those are still in place and intact. A sliver of calm returned. I’m fine. It’s going to be fine. It would take me only a moment to send this creature back, and I could figure out later what the fuck had gone wrong. I just had to finish the binding, close and ground the potency, then reopen the portal. I scowled blackly. If that damn burglar hadn’t come last night, I’d have known how to reverse the portal without going through all this bullshit.

  “I am Kara Gillian,” I stated clearly as I rewove the potencies, naming myself as part of the binding process. I had no intention of completing terms and releasing the bindings, but the forms still had to be followed. “I have summoned you to serve me—”

  The laughter stopped me—a cold sound that cut through my words and sent a chill up my spine.

  “Serve you?” The voice flowed from the crouched figure, serene and vicious. “I will rend the flesh from your bones and scatter your blood to the wind.”

  Oh. Shit.

  I frantically gathered power to me. Screw the forms. I wanted that portal open now. This was feeling worse and worse, and I had no desire to find out what kind of patterns my innards could make on the floor. I gabbled out the chant for a dismissal.

  In one fluid, graceful motion, the demon stood, and the light from the fire illuminated him fully.

  I stared, slack-j awed, my words dying away. I had seen many startling things as a summoner, but not this. Never this. I hurriedly checked for signs that it was some sort of illusion or glamour, but there were none. There were twelve levels of demon that could be summoned. This was most certainly not any one of them.

  He was beautiful. Angelic. White-blond hair hung in a satin-smooth fall down the length of his back. His skin glowed in the firelight, so perfect as to be ethereal. He was well muscled and tall, and the insanely incongruous thought came to me that he was probably about the same height as Captain Turnham. But this … being … wore nothing as mundane as a dress shirt and khakis. A shimmering white silk shirt hung on broad shoulders that tapered down to a narrow waist. Leather breeches the color of fresh cream fit snugly to well-muscled legs. He had the body of an Adonis.

  And he looked human.

  Only his crystal-blue eyes told me that this was a creature of deadly and terrifying power. Eyes that were deep and ancient, full of a dominance and strength that belied the angelic beauty of his face.

  This … is no ordinary demon. Oh, shit, Kara. What the fuck have you done?

  His lips curled into a smile as those eyes traveled over me, weighing and measuring me.

  I swallowed hard and drew breath to restart the chant for the dismissal. I still held the bindings firm. I still had a chance.

  I could feel pressure against the bindings as I choked the words out, could feel him probing, testing, but they still held. My shredded confidence steadied. I could hold this creature. He finished his lengthy appraisal of me, then looked around the room, slowly turning, still not moving from the center of the chalked diagram. Finally he returned his gaze to me.

  “Ah.” He smiled. “This will prove interesting.”

  I felt the bindings tremble, and then, before I could react, they snapped like threads.

  I gasped in horror as the bindings unraveled and dissipated. How could he have broken them so easily? I abandoned the dismissal chant as I struggled to gather up the shreds of power. The wardings were my only hope. I threw all the potency I could seize into the diagram, seeing the runes flare into life.

  His laughter mocked me as he brushed the wardings aside like old cobwebs, shattering the runes. Then he stepped out of the diagram and locked his eyes on mine as raw potency exuded from him in a smothering wave. “I am so glad you have brought me here.” His voice was calm and melodious, but in his eyes I could see a black fury.

  My breath froze in my chest as I began to back away. Terror warred with barely controlled panic despite all of my training and preparation. I knew how much the higher-level demons despised being summoned, yet somehow I had fucked up and pulled this creature through—a creature that was undeniably far beyond the level of a reyza. I was about to die. And badly.

  The flight reflex took over and I turned and bolted for the stairs.

  And came up against a blank wall.

  I stared in horror at the place where the stairs were supposed to be, then whirled back to face him. “Let me go!” My voice shook, but I didn’t care. I was far beyond any need to appear strong.

  He laughed—a beautiful, musical sound that only increased my terror. “I do not hold you.” He took another step forward, his angelic features and rage-filled eyes catching the firelight. “I do not hold you at all.”

  My stomach clenched. All of the bindings, the wardings, the protections were gone—useless. Even my police training would do me no good against this creature. I could feel the wood paneling of the illusory wall at my back, and I fought to control the urge that screamed at me to turn and claw a way out.

  “Then where are the stairs?” I demanded, hating the note of hysteria in my voice.

  He shrugged eloquently as he stepped closer. “I am responsible for careless architecture? I think not.”

  He stepped to within a pace of me as I tried to press back into the wall. He reached out to touch my face, and I jerked away from his hand. A snarl curved his mouth, and then, before I could move, he seized me, holding my face in both hands, pinning me firmly though not hurting me. Yet, I thought wildly. It’s going to start hurting really soon.

  He gazed down at me for at least a dozen heartbeats, eyes locked on mine as if searching through my essence—eyes that promised death and pain and vengeance. I could feel the rage that he held in check, could feel myself trembling violently in his hold, but I couldn’t look away, didn’t want to look away.

  Then suddenly the fury in his eyes faded. “I see,” he murmured, so softly I never would have heard it if he hadn’t been inches away from me.

  I ga
sped for breath as my heart hammered so loudly I knew he could hear it. “Let me go … please.”

  He was silent for several more heartbeats, his eyes still holding mine. Then he smiled—a dazzling sight—and gave a small laugh. “But … you do not want me to let you go.” He bent and brushed my lips lightly with his.

  My heart jumped in a combination of confusion and shock. What the fuck? Surely he was toying with me. He would destroy me, but first he would humiliate me….

  “No. Don’t do this,” I breathed. “Just kill me quickly. Get it over with.”

  He continued to cradle my face, then trailed the fingers of one hand lightly down my throat before slowly withdrawing them. He tilted his head slightly, eyes on mine. “So eager to die,” he murmured, then laughed low in his throat, shaking his head. He no longer looked enraged. Instead, he looked amused and … delighted? I blinked, terror shifting into bafflement.

  He lifted a hand and I flinched, expecting a flare of pain, but instead he merely reached out to stroke my hair, sliding his hand to the back of my neck. My confusion increased tenfold. Was this just a prelude to some sort of complex torment?

  “Look,” I said, working hard to keep my voice from quavering. “I’m very sorry I summoned you. I didn’t mean to. It was a mistake. Please, let me go, and I’ll dismiss you and send you back.”

  He gave no indication that he heard me and trailed his other hand over my cheek and down my throat. The unmistakable caress slid slowly over the buttons of my shirt and over the swell of my breast until his hand came to rest lightly on my hip.

  I stiffened and sucked my breath in through my teeth, dark memory suddenly crowding in. Another time I’d been pressed up against a wall, an unwanted touch fumbling over my body …

  His eyes caught mine and a sudden shiver raced through me. I could feel the slow and gentle movement of his hand on my hip and along my side. Not so unpleasant. Not unwanted. No reason for me not to want it, to enjoy it.

  I blinked. There’d been a reason. Hadn’t there?

  He smiled down at me, his hand still moving in a slow caress. A tingle of warmth simmered through my body. It had been a while since anyone had touched me like that. A long while. And I hadn’t realized just how much I’d missed it until this moment.

  He pulled me closer with the hand cradling the back of my neck, then bent and kissed me—lightly at first, then gradually with more depth and insistence.

  Oh … wow. I’d never been kissed like this before. His lips moved sensuously against mine as I briefly struggled to keep from responding to the kiss. But I didn’t struggle for long. My lips parted and I groaned softly as his tongue whispered sweetly against mine. Damn, but he was good at this. My hands reached up automatically to circle his neck, and I quickly jerked them back down. But his skin was warm and smooth, and the feel of him pressed against me made thoughts of resistance difficult. But this is no human, I reminded myself as I fought to gather my scattered wits. He was a damn good kisser, but other than that I didn’t know a thing about him. I didn’t even know what he was, except that he sure as shit wasn’t Rysehl.

  I broke the kiss with a rough gasp. “Please. Stop.” I was no prude, but this felt wrong and dangerous and a thousand other things.

  He slipped a hand around to the small of my back, caressing lightly as he looked down at me, ice-blue eyes echoing the faint smile on his lips. I let out a small moan at the feel of his hand. Maybe I was being silly. He obviously wasn’t going to kill me. It didn’t matter who or what he was. Would it really be so wrong to enjoy a little bit of comfort and pleasure? I deserved it. I needed it.

  He lowered his head down to mine again, teasing my mouth open and quickly deepening the kiss. I groaned against the heat of his mouth as he pulled me close against him. I could feel the strength of his form, the smooth muscle of his chest and legs, and I could feel the hardness that pressed into the curve of my belly. Warmth surged through me as I felt the power of the arms that held me. His mouth was hot and sweet, and in the kiss was all the power and strength and dominance that I had seen in his eyes.

  His hand slid up to gently fondle my breast, his fingers lightly circling my hard nipple through the thin silk of my shirt. I put my hands on his arms to try to push his hand from my breast, but the muscle beneath the silk of the shirt was hard as iron and soft as velvet. I moaned softly and slid my hands up higher, holding on to his shoulders. The lustrous fall of his hair tumbled over me, and the pleasant, musky smell of him filled my senses.

  He broke the kiss gently and nuzzled my throat as I tipped my head back, gasping, trying to gather my scattered wits. He released me slowly, and I clutched at the wall to support my wobbly legs. Smiling, he stepped back and turned away.

  I stared at him, confusion and wariness mingling with a healthy dose of horniness. He walked to the fireplace, then turned back to me, looking at me expectantly.

  What the fuck just happened? I took a deep breath, feeling as if I needed more oxygen so that I could wake up. “Are—” My voice cracked. I took another deep breath and tried again. “Are you going to kill me?”

  Amusement lit those crystal-blue eyes. “Do you wish me to?”

  “No!” I replied quickly. I cautiously pushed off the wall and took a wavering step forward. “No, I’d really rather you didn’t.”

  His shoulders lifted in an elegant shrug. “Then I will not.” He held his hand out to me. I blinked stupidly at the proffered hand, then looked back up to his beautiful face.

  “Come to me, Kara,” he said, voice rich and inviting.

  “Why?” I asked, still wary. “What are you going to do?” With him across the room from me, it was easier to think clearly.

  He laughed, still holding his hand out to me. “I would like to kiss you again.”

  “Why?” I asked again, not moving. It wasn’t a stupid question. I was no raving beauty. I was the one who’d had a grand total of two boyfriends in my entire life, neither of whom had lasted for more than three months.

  A look of surprise flickered across his face, then was gone. “Because I enjoyed it,” he responded simply. “Did you not enjoy it as well?”

  I slowly walked toward him, brow furrowed. I stopped in front of him but didn’t take the proffered hand. “I did enjoy it. But … I don’t understand.”

  He lowered his hand and tilted his head, regarding me. “Must you?”

  I opened my mouth to respond, then closed it. A few minutes ago I’d been absolutely certain that I was going to die a hideously painful death. Now this unspeakably powerful and gorgeous creature wanted to kiss me, and I was going to argue the point?

  He gave me a dazzling smile and held his hand out again. Damn, but he was seriously hot. Was he so beautiful because he wasn’t human? His gaze met mine, his eyes displaying a power and passion that sent another wave of warmth rushing through me.

  I looked away quickly, swallowing hard to regain control of my body. The sudden burn of anger in my belly helped, now that I had an idea of what was happening. “Well … yeah,” I said tightly. “I’m funny that way.” I didn’t know what he was, but I knew that he was seriously fucking powerful, and I was suddenly afraid of something other than a painful death.

  “I … would be dishonored,” I said, heart pounding, “if I could not resist an unwanted act because my willingness to resist had been taken from me.”

  He was silent for over a dozen heartbeats, while I kept my gaze fixed on the table in front of the fireplace. I hadn’t wanted to phrase it as an accusation, but I wanted to be sure that my meaning was understood. Cold sweat prickled my lower back as I waited for his reaction.

  “You may look at me, Kara Gillian,” he said finally, voice low but still somehow managing to fill the basement with throbbing intensity. “I give you my word I will not dishonor you again.”

  I wanted to sag in relief but instead cautiously slid my gaze back to him. He stood with his hands clasped behind him, regarding me with those ancient and power-filled eyes. “I will n
ot dishonor you,” he repeated. “But I would give you what you crave.” Once again he held out his hand.

  My throat tightened as I looked at his hand. He knew. Whatever he was, he knew how bitterly lonely I was, how much I just wanted to be touched.

  I flushed and looked away, embarrassed and dismayed that he’d so clearly seen this weakness in me. “I’m fine,” I insisted, voice a bit louder than it probably needed to be.

  “You are a summoner of demons. You are isolated among your own kind because of your power. I have seen it a thousand times over. There is no shame in that.”

  I scowled, still not looking at him. He stepped closer to me and laid a hand alongside my face. “I dishonored you by seeking to compel you for the sake of my own pleasure. I would atone for that if you would allow me.”

  I turned my head and met his eyes again. “Atone how?” I said with asperity. “By sleeping with me anyway?”

  His thumb stroked my cheek. “By giving you what you will not find elsewhere. Comfort without secrets, without hiding. Release from the fear that has locked you away from seeking out companionship. You have been hurt, but you are safe with me, Kara Gillian,” he said, potent voice oddly gentle. “I give you my word that I will not hurt you or compel you.”

  For a brief instant I wanted to laugh. How crazy was it that the “safest” way for me to get laid would be with an insanely powerful arcane creature that I’d summoned by mistake? But he’s offering me more than just “getting laid.” He understands. Where else am I ever going to find that?

  I slid my hand into his grasp. He pulled me close and I went without resisting, feeling somehow relieved.