Page 53 of Demonic Division

“Okay.”

Lir sighs, turning his attention back to the door. “This is a terrible idea,” he mumbles. Then he yanks it open.

31

Dagny

The smellof blood is the first thing I notice when I step into Roark’s room. It infects the air, flowing into my nose and coating my throat with the vile metallic tang that causes my heart to pound, mirroring the strange rhythmic thumping echoing along the walls.

The next is the utter devastation. All along the walls, the stone is lined with craters—fist-sized holes that fissure and turn the surrounding material to rubble. Chunks of gravel line the floor like freshly fallen snow, hailing from the ceiling with each steady thump.

An anguished whine echoes off the walls and into my heart, drawing my gaze to the creature cowered in the corner of the room. His eyes shine like twin violet beacons through the dark, searching for nothing and everything all at once. Thick shadows swirl around its outline, hiding the beast partially from view. The only things I can make out are the deep, oozing gouges along his forearms and chest. I’m about to ask what the wounds are from when Roark reaches his great clawed hand up to his neck, fingernails piercing deep and raking downward, mutilating the skin.

“Gods… what is he doing?” I ask, my voice trembling with horror. “Can’t you stop him?”

Lir shakes his head, his brow set in a deep frown. “We’ve tried… he nearly killed Cyprien when he attempted to chain his hands.”

At Lir’s words, my eyes trail up to the large metal collar strapped around Roark’s neck, then to the short iron chain bolting him to the wall. It seems to be the only thing keeping the demon here from wreaking more havoc.

Roark whines deep in his throat, deep purple eyes latching onto my frame. Thick, blue-black blood drips from his fingers as he reaches toward me, his claws extending as a distorted bellowing noise vibrates into the air. Roark’s lips peel back in a snarl as he lunges forward, stopped only by the chain holding him to the wall. He rails against his restraints, causing the collar to dig into his flesh and more blood to flow down his neck and chest, coating his skin in that awful black liquid.

Lir shifts in front of me protectively, letting out his own snarl to try to scare Roark into submission. Roark doubles down, reaching up to his neck and clawing mindlessly at the restraint, having no care for the terrible wounds he’s inflicting in the process.

“He’s going to kill himself!” I snap, pushing Lir to the side and rushing toward the purple-eyed demon. Before I get two steps, Cyprien snaps an arm out, attempting to haul me back.

“He’ll killyouif you go to him,” Cyprien says, his claws digging into my skin with the strength he holds me. “I won’t allow it.”

I shake my head, attempting to wrench my arm from his grip. “I have to dosomething!” The thing in my chest is rioting, demanding I go to Roark and ease the pain of thebond. Putting me out of my mind, just as I’m sure he is. “Please, let me try.”

Lir’s lips press into a scowl, but he nods at Cyprien, giving him permission to let me go. As soon as I’m free, I rush over to Roark, stopping just out of reach in case hedoesdecide to harm me. Immediately, Roark drops his hands from his neck, splattering blood all across the floor as he reaches out for me. His claws scrape the air in front of me as a desperate whine flows from his parted mouth, the sound seeping to the marrow of my bones and filling me with a deep sadness.

“Roark…” I whisper. “It’s okay now. I’m here…”

Roark blinks, and some of the haze vanishes. “Dag… ny… My… Dagny…”His nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath, and his eyes close in bliss as my scent fills his lungs. “Finally…”

The rapid rise and fall of his chest ceases as I step into his space. The air thickens, humming with an energy only we can sense. A warm fluttering in my stomach travels to the tips of my fingers and toes, numbing everything in its path until the only thing I’m aware of is that violent tugging sensation in my chest.

Roark’s palm finds my cheek, and though the skin is calloused and rough, his touch is exceedingly gentle, brushing over my skin like a warm breeze. I lean into it, closing my eyes as the bond mark on my thigh pulses to life, casting a faint purple light along the shadowed walls.

“Little one…” he murmurs, his voice returning to its usual timbre. “You came back to me…”

I open my eyes, finding his beautiful purple ones already burning into mine. His palm slides to the top of my head and down the back, brushing away the long strands of dark brownhair to expose the gentle curve of my neck. Roark leans in, pressing his lips gently against my pulse point, a deep growl rumbling in his chest. A sigh of relief passes my lips as the bond eases into place, filling the air with a puff of vapor that swirls around my head, mingling with Roark’s heavy panting.

“I want totaste,” he groans, tongue dragging up my neck and causing me to cry out. His arms around my back, pulling me flush against his chest and covering me in his blood. At the sensation of warm liquid seeping into my bodysuit, I squeal and attempt to wriggle from his hold, which only ends in more of the dark black blood coating my skin and clothes.

“Be still,little one,” he orders, pulling me impossibly deeper into his chest. “Let me hold you.”

I’m pretty sure you want to do more thanhold, I think, jerking my eyes down to the growing cock pressing into my lower stomach. Roark follows my gaze, and a pleased hum vibrates in his throat as he jerks his hips against me.

“I want to doeverything,” he growls, nipping gently at my neck. “I’m going to make youmine.”

“I don’t think you’re in a state to do anything of the sort,” Cyprien pipes up, stepping closer and placing his hand on Roark’s shoulder. As soon as his palm makes contact, Roark snaps his head to the side, gnashing his pointed fangs within a millimeter of Cyprien’s fingertips.

Cyprien rips his arm away, lips tilting in a taunting grin. “There’s no need to be so testy. We can share.”

In response, Roark's chest rumbles with a possessive growl, and he wraps his arms tighter around me.“Mine.”

“Ehhh.” Cyprien’s clawed hand tilts side to side, showcasing the shaky logic in Roark’s statement. “That pretty little brand on her tummy disagrees with you. She wasminebefore she was any of yours,” he adds, puffing his chest out haughtily.

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