Page 18 of Dark Rapture
“There is no undoing what has been done. I will not let you go.”
Pain courses through me, but I can’t bring myself to scream. I try to pinpoint where it originates, but I cannot. It’s a ghost, a phantom; the pain is spiritual, not physical.
My face is contorted in agony, but I can’t tear my gaze away from the demon. Its body continues to flicker, shifting from the shadow of a man to the shadow of a demon. My mind is fragmenting, insanity clawing its way up from the depths of my psyche.
I am just a human girl, my fragile mind cannot process this horror. Another minute of this and I am going to break beyond repair, I just know it. Human eyes aren’t meant to look upon evil incarnate.
The demon must know what is happening inside of me, because the candles that surround us and illuminate the church are extinguished instantly with the swipe of his dark hand. I cry out as we plummet into a lightless void, the temperature dropping so low I flinch against the searing cold, until it rises again.
Warmth and silence encompass me, wrapping around me like a comforting blanket, and I feel something in the pitch blackness. A hand, gentle and warm, stroking the side of my face. Fingers slip through the wayward strands of my braid, pulling them all the way loose, before relocating them behind my ear.
The hand pets my hair, and a wave of serenity washes over me. There is no room for confusion or fear now, just this comfort. Just this moment. I’m safe here in the darkness, with him.
When I finally feel myself relaxing, and a deep sigh slips past my lips, a few candles flicker back to life. A gentle amber glow fills the church, and I blink rapidly to clear my blurry vision.
When I can finally focus, a pair of human eyes watch me closely. A pale blue, shimmering brightly, hold me captive from mere inches away.
Adoration floods me as I gaze up into his eyes, leaning heavily into his warm hand. When he speaks, his voice is entirely human. Soothing, deep and dark, like silk against my senses. “You have nothing to fear. I will never harm you, little witch.”
He moves himself away from me slightly and my eyes adjust, roaming over the form he has taken in front of me. He is tall, his shoulders broad, his body robust. He wears nothing but a pair of loose fitting, black pants that hang low on his hips. His sun-kissed skin is radiant against the glint of candlelight.
He pulls his hand away from me, shifting his body backwards slightly to give me a little more space. As our physical connection breaks, the intense calm that blanketed me lifts.
Panic swells and brings with it a fresh surge of fear. Oh, God, he’s a demon, not a man.
I stare at him wide-eyed, watching as the image of him turns to static once again. Flickering back and forth, I see the shadow of a demon take his place. Every single one of my muscles tense, but before I can move away from him, he reaches out and touches me.
His fingers slide along the side of my face, and a dense wave of calm washes over me. I exhale deeply as the terror seeps out of me, as if he is drawing it out through his anchored hands. His touch is a soothing balm to my ruptured sanity.
The shadow of the demon is gone again, replaced withhim. Solid, real, and warm. He is safety. He is peace. When he pulls me up to my feet, and draws me up against the solid wall of his chest, my body relaxes further.
“Breathe. You are safe,” he soothes, and my body obeys. I take in a steadying breath, feeling centered. I know he is doing this, because just a few moments ago I was descending into endless madness. It’s like he snapped his fingers and put the broken pieces of my mind back together again.
“I don’t understand what is happening,” I whimper, my voice small in the vast space that surrounds us. I regard him more closely now, and I am surprised how devastatingly handsome he is.
He is well over six feet tall, broad and muscular like I imagine a viking warrior would be. His black hair is wavy and a little longer at the front, falling across his forehead and a little into his eyes. His eyes are an ethereal pale blue, and he has a mouth that looks like it belongs to a fallen angel.
The man looks like he is the incarnation of sin.
“Ask your questions,” He says simply, walking me backwards until I’m pressed against the altar. I allow him to move me, because he is gentle and strong where I feel frail and weak.
Once my back hits the altar, he gently lifts me and sets me on top of it in a sitting position. His hands linger on my thighs, committed to steadying me. I am grateful that he gives me some space to breathe and collect myself.
“Who are you?” I question him.
His voice fills the entire Church, rumbling like a coming storm until it echoes all around us. His mouth doesn’t move, but I know the haunting voice belongs to him. “I am the protector. The teacher.” Just like in my altar room, his voice shifts in such an inhuman way, it makes my hair stand on end. “A Great Prince of Hell.”
“Tell me your name,” I demand, my voice a little stronger now that he is helping keep me calm. I’m hoping that if I walk away from this encounter alive, I can figure out exactly what I am dealing with.
He smiles. “I have many.”
“Tell me who you are,” I demand more firmly, knowing that if I learn anything from our meeting, it must be his name. A demon’s name carries a great deal of power, and I need some kind of advantage here.
His face contorts with a scowl, and he steps into me. His imposing body presses against mine, pinning me to the altar, his hand lifting to collar my throat. “I am a Great Prince of Hell, commander of twenty-six legions. To utter my true name is to turn the eyes of Hell upon you.”
He lowers his mouth to mine, his voice a demonic growl uttered against my trembling lips. “Is that what you desire, little witch? For all the legions of Hell to gaze upon you?”
Fear sparks like striking a match, and for a moment my vision is flooded with the image of the demon; the incarnation of darkness and evil, standing before me. The monstrosity towers over me, and I recoil so violently I nearly fall from the altar.
