Page 27 of Dark Rapture
I wait for several long minutes, expecting to feel a shift in the energy or hear his voice from somewhere beyond. I can’t quite describe what it is I am feeling in this moment, but it doesn’t feel like his arrival. Perhaps Daemon didn’t hear me? Maybe I need a formal ritual to summon him.
Opening my eyes, I cannot stop the startled scream that escapes me as every hair on my body stands on end.
There’s a shadow figure in front of me, its body contorted on top of the comparatively small surface of my altar. I can hardly make sense of the outline of its manifestation, but I can see enough to know it is a poor mimic of how a real person is supposed to be shaped.
The demonic entity is horrifying, with vibrant red eyes and a set of horns curling from the crown of its head. It is staring at me wide-eyed, like something that crawled out of Hell and tried to make my altar its new home.
Before I can break through the terror of its sudden appearance and move away, I watch in horror as the monster’s mouth splits unnaturally wide and its head falls back in an awful, soundless scream. Frozen in fear, I am shocked into silence as whatever this is, is pulled violently towards the back of the closet, vanishing into the thick blackness beyond.
As my entire body begins to shake from the adrenaline pumping through me, I shuffle back towards the door, only to collide with a hard wall of muscle and warmth.
Daemon.
“Little witch.” His voice is the most smooth and deep sound I have ever heard. It sinks into me like warm water through thick cloth, soothing all of the nerves set on fire from the other entity’s sudden appearance moments ago.
“You scared the living hell out of me,” I gasp, taking a steadying breath before I force myself to relax into the contours of his substantial, strange body. I still don’t understand how a demon can make me feel so safe, but he achieves the impossible every time we meet.
Daemon, or whatever his true name is, is also an unholy being from Hell. There is absolutely no reason I should feel safe with him, I know that. I can’t explain my feelings, or why they came on so suddenly. I just know what I feel when his body touches mine.
I’m already well aware that he can alter my reality, make me feel things that don’t come naturally to me. He forced me to become calm and clear headed back at the church, when faced with the unimaginable horror of what I know now was just a shadow of his true self. He’s capable of more than I can fathom, and for all I know, everything I feel and every word from his mouth has been a lie.
He also has not given me any indication of intent to harm me. He killed my uncle for me, and saved me from that demon in the taxi. If anything, he has shown me through his actions that he wants to protect me. His previous words, and his reasoning for wanting to bind my soul to him, make me believe he isn’t lying. It all makes sense to me when I put it together, like pieces of a puzzle.
If there is indeed an untapped well of power within me, of course he wants access to it. Especially if it elevates him and increases his own power.
“That was not me,” he whispers, his soft lips brushing against the shell of my ear. His breath comes out in warm puffs, making me shiver against him. He seems to enjoy how my body responds, because he winds an arm around my waist and pulls me in tighter against him. “Another demon heard your call, but I cast him back down.”
“I’ve never had paranormal experiences before. Why are all these demons showing up everywhere now?” I ask him, closing my eyes as I nestle a little harder into his embrace. He is so much larger than me, I can’t imagine any lesser demon harming me while he is holding me so protectively.
The warmth of his body seeps right down into me and settles, driving all the fear and coldness away. The things he makes me feel are addictive, which makes him dangerous. I can’t help but wonder if he wants me to feel this way, drunk on his presence.
He feels like safety, and although I know that thought is madness, I can’t resist the pull of it. I’ve always sought safety in life, which I’m certain is a byproduct of my childhood trauma, so when someone indomitable enough to give it to me actually offers it up on a silver platter, I feel compelled to accept it against my better judgment.
Safety is a seductive, instinctual need for me. The desire for protection is a seed that was planted in me when I was just a broken child. That seed grew as I did, into a gnarled tree rooted deep in my gut. A twisted tree that is still dying of insatiable thirst, dehydrated all the way through.
“They can feel the power awakening in you,” he says gently against my ear, his voice so pleasurable to my senses that I shiver yet again in response. “Every demon would want you for themselves, so they can possess you and use your power to climb the ranks of Hell.”
My eyes shoot open. Dread settles over me as I process his words. “No. That can’t be true. There’s no reason for demons to want to possess me. I’m nobody!”
Light laughter slips from his mouth, a gentle rumble in his broad chest. “Lies. I am omniscient, and there is nothing about you that I do not already know.”
Right. That means, if there is something special inside of me, he already knows all about it. I’m the only one in the dark here. The lack of information, with demons becoming aware of my existence, puts me in grave danger.
“You need not fear them, little witch. I will tear them apart until they are nothing but broken atoms in the cosmic wind.”
I don’t know what to say in response, I can only hope he is right. I am not equipped to deal with demons, I’ve only recently begun exploring protection magic as the first steps on my journey to becoming a witch.
Surely a Great Prince of Hell can protect me from everything that would seek to harm me, right? That means giving myself to him fully, and letting him bind my soul to him for eternity.
That is far from a small price to pay for protection and knowledge. For power. I sigh, shaking my head. I cannot believe this is my reality.
One of Daemon’s oversized hands travels across my body, drifting up towards my throat where it settles comfortably beneath my jawline. Logically, I know that should scare me, but he applies minimal pressure and uses one clawed finger to stroke the line of my jaw.
I sigh once more, a deep and expressive sound. A wave of calm like I felt back at the church spreads over me, soothing me. I give in to him, not just because I crave the comfort he offers, but because I am tired of feeling like life is a losing battle that I am endlessly fighting. I am tired of being afraid, of questioning everything and everyone. I want to be in control, and most importantly I want to be strong enough to protect myself.
“You have nothing to fear, Selene. You are mine, and only mine, and once our bond is complete you will bear my mark all over your mortal soul. Any demon that comes for you will know what will happen if they touch what belongs to me.”
As I process his words, my peripheral vision catches the sight of his hand as it moves. Stroking my face soothingly, I see what looks like fingertips that end in thick, curved talons.
