Page 67 of Touched By Death

Like deceit and corruption. A product of my own making. It makes me fucking heady.

Guiding her back, closer to the bed, I inhale her breaths, stealing them from her starving lungs. My fingers tangle in her long, silky locks. I pull sharply, drawing a sharp gasp from her kiss-swollen mouth while fucking it senseless with my tongue. As the backs of her legs connect with the bed, I expose her neck and pepper kisses down the smooth column in a race to the dip at her collarbone, where her pulse flutters wildly. Pausing briefly as my fingers skate around her hip bone to dip between her thighs, I look over her shoulder at the vial on the nightstand.

Anticipation drugs me as I guide her back onto the mattress, lips traveling further south, past her collarbones and down her chest. I kiss the swell of each breast before dragging my tongue from her right to her left and nipping it. The urge to sink my teeth deep into her flesh has my wings stretching out behind me. When my fingers trace her slit through her soaked silk panties, my throbbing, sharp fangs graze my bottom lip.

“Exquisite,” I whisper, looking up at her from beneath my dark lashes while her supple chest rises and falls beneath my smirking mouth.

I never claimed to be good. Never claimed to care much for self-control. So while I have her like this—laid out like a feast—I take advantage and slide her left strap off her shoulder. Hooking my fingers in the low-cut cup of her leather bra, I pull it down and free her tits.

My son will kill me for this, for seeing her this way. But I no longer care. She watches me with that heady, pleading look in her eyes—a look that tells me her century-old grudge and the need for revenge have been momentarily shelved. The threat of Daemon’s fury is as alluring as the scent of Genesis’s arousal.

Her back arches off the mattress when I close my mouth around a nipple and tweak the other with my thumb and finger. I pinch and pull, swirling my tongue. How easy it is to topple her queen. How easily she falls under my spell. Disgust washes over me like a frothing wave at the beach.

Abandoning her peaky nipples, I crawl up her body and grab her slender throat. I bring those supple, kiss-swollen lips that my son has fucked to mine, and whisper, “Do you know what separates you from Aurelia? What makes her different?”

Shaky breaths dance across my lips when she looks up at me through her drunken lust. “I dance with the darkness while she drowns in it.”

My lips peel back in a snarl as I reach for the vial at the table. She’s too lost in the ocean of seduction to notice. Too drunk on the promise of a hard fuck with the Devil himself. “You’re desperate.” In a swift move, I flick the lid off and bring the vial to her plump lips, watching the blue liquid drip onto her tongue. “Aurelia would never give in to me this easily. Maybe you dance with the shadows, but in doing so, you’ve become immune to the dangers that lurk within.”

Her entire body stiffens as the drug takes effect. I secure her wrists and pin her down with my weight to keep her from thrashing. “Meanwhile, the angel, with her fine-tuned instincts, can sense danger a mile away.” A smile of pure evil curves my lips. “Predators like me thrive on the hunt. We like to chase the little rabbit through the dark forest. Nothing entices us more than the sound of their pounding heartbeat and frightened whimpers. The way they throw wild glances behind them to gauge how long they have left until they’re captured and devoured. And with a girl like Aurelia, an inherently innocent angel, there’s always an element of excitement which fragrances the air in the most tantalizing way. It’s a fine line between predator and prey in that moment.”

“What did you give me?” she chokes out through gritted teeth as she convulses beneath me.

Ignoring her question, I let her see the nefarious intent in my eyes. “To catch a hunter like me, the biggest predator in these woods, you’ll need to change your tactics. I’m disappointed, Genesis. I expected more from a conniving whore like you.”

“What. Did. You. Give. Me?”

“Oh, that?” I pick up the empty vial and wiggle it in the air. “It’s a little potion, brewed by a very special angel with some very interesting powers.”

A final few jerks stiffen every muscle in her body before she goes slack, her terrified eyes welling with salty tears. Like a calm ocean, her chest rises and falls with every soft wave that laps against my lips with each trembly exhale. I take a moment to study her now that her powers are dormant, and she poses as much threat as a pathetic human.

I’ve always liked this part the best, knowing I have them under my complete control.

Climbing off the mattress and rising to my feet, I walk over to the wall and grab a length of rope. Genesis’s eyes widen when I reach for a set of gleaming, sharp scissors. I tie her up, shift her over onto her front, and flip her skirt up to expose her smooth ass. Groaning out loud, I squeeze her flesh, torturing myself with the forbidden fruit. “Did my son slap these?”

“What happened to my powers, Lucifer?” The frantic, panicked tone in her voice does wicked things to my body.

I smack her ass before prying her big wings open, pleased that she’s too drugged to fight me. They slump on either side of her, grazing the marble flooring. Running my fingers through her feathers, I contemplate fucking her. My cock wants to bury itself so deep inside her, I see stars for years to come.

For the first time since I can remember, I’m not bored. I’m very fucking entertained for once. The only thing that would make this better would be if it were Aurelia craning her neck to look at me over her shoulder.

But it’s not.

Even so, the fantasy whispers filth in my ear.

“Your powers are gone. For now.”

She whimpers, causing me to frown at the pathetic sound. Something tells me the light to her dark isn’t so fucking pliant. My son would never be so hung up on this female if she showed her fear so easily.

I crave her fight as much as her cunt. The desire to fuck her raw while she fights sings to me across stormy waters. Leaning over her, I tangle my fingers in her hair and pull, whispering, “You’re lucky there’s a fire-bond, or I’d fuck you until you didn’t know your own name anymore. And then, when you’re milking my dick for the hundredth fucking time, I’d slice your throat and watch you bleed out on my sheets.” I nuzzle her neck. “I think I’d like that—to paint my bed red with your blood.”

“What are you gonna do with me?”

Sliding my hand through her hair, down between her shoulder blades, and across her feathers, I reply, “I’m gonna cut your wings.”

“Cut my…?” A shrill cry rips from her lips when I reach for the scissors beside us on the mattress.

Clamping my hand over her mouth, I muffle the sound. My dick jerks inside my suit pants. The fear is my favorite part. That, and the raw panic and the frantic drugged thrashing. “Shh, quiet now.” Sliding the scissors through the feathers, I relish in her feral, muffled screams and attempts to wriggle out from beneath me. Her movements are sluggish, uncoordinated, and weak. “I’m gonna cut your wings and then, when you can’t fly, I’ll fuck you raw before cutting out your tongue. My son never needs to find out it was me who hurt his precious little angel. It’ll be a secret between you and me.”

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