Page 34 of Dark Rapture
His voice echoes around the anterior chamber, and a wave of warm calmness settles over me. With a soft smile on my face, I turn to face where I assume he is standing at the other end of the church.
Shock hits me like a freight train when my eyes adjust to the sight of him descending from a swirling pool of darkness above the center of the church, the shadows that once concealed him from my vision now dripping off of him like ink melting away from stone.
I stumble several steps until my lower back collides with the edge of the altar, my wide eyes roaming the colossal form of a demon far too horrifying for words. He is gargantuan, the bulk of him filling the church and pushing ruthlessly at the very fabric of reality.
The horror of what I am seeing is more than I can bear, and I drop to my knees in reverence for the monstrosity as it creeps inexorably closer, his Hell-born lifeforce radiating off him in oppressive waves.
The demon is a terrifying amalgamation of brutal horns, vicious talons, gnashing fangs and chaotic hellfire. The enormous skull of an owl pressed to his face, shielding my vision from the demonic visage behind it. He is perfect in Hell’s design—made in the image of the Devil himself.
He takes one great step towards me, and all at once the demon pulls back and collapses inward like a dying star. Darkness spills out, and from the depths of a dense and endless ether, a shape materializes.
The metamorphosis is violent as he takes another step forward, my eyes affixed to his chest as his rib cage closes in and flesh knits together to contain his black, beating heart. I watch, captivated by the astonishing terror of it, as the diabolic organ vanishes beneath his skin.
There are eyes like two infinite, black voids in a face both recognizable and not. His body is magnificent, laden in thick muscle and sinew, his broad chest marked by demonic runes in black ink. And his arms, dipped in darkness as black as obsidian, carrying those sigils I recognize from when he afforded me just a glimpse of himself back in my altar room.
Three sets of tall, black horns split from his skull to crown his head, the first two taller than the ones behind it, set throughout the lengthy black hair that falls in waves across his forehead.
He is wearing nothing but a pair of loose-fitting black pants, golden thread accenting the material where it hangs low on his narrow hips.
My eyes lift to his, this entity manifested as something in between human and demon, and I’m graced with a wicked grin spreading slowly across his devastatingly handsome face. Lethal fangs accentuate that sinful smile, and I can’t help but think that despite his best efforts, he could never look truly human. Reality can only bend so much before it shatters.
“Does this form please you, little witch? For it is one of many.” Dark laughter rumbles from him, and I swallow against my inability to speak.
What I just witnessed would destroy any normal person’s sanity, just as he had promised.
“Daemon.” I finally manage to speak, forcing the words from my trembling lips. He walks towards me, extending a dark hand.
“Come, little witch. Let me soothe you with my touch.”
I reach out, my petite hand slipping into his, desperate to feel the unyielding domination of his dark power. As much as he still frightens me, I cannot resist the safety and protection his touch affords me. I don’t want to feel afraid.
Black talons graze my skin as he grips me firmly and pulls me against his body. Serenity washes over me the moment we connect, soothing my rattled nerves and loosening the words caught in my throat. My eyes drop to his chest, one hand lifting to trace the complex markings etched into his skin. When my eyes lift to his, I drown in the great, dark depths I find there.
“Your true form… it—“
Daemon’s mouth descends on mine, one hand slipping into the waves of my hair to hold me captive as his languid kiss devours the words that die on my lips. His tongue sweeps against the seam of my mouth, and he coaxes me to let him in.
I do. Of course I do. With a soft sigh, my lips part and I kiss him back. My tongue grazes the tip of a fang, and the coppery taste of blood blooms between us. He moans, deep and low, licking at the nick on my tongue as if there is no greater taste in this world.
When he finally releases his grip on me, my eyes are half-lidded and the heavy haze of lust has taken hold of me. Staring up into his half human, half demon face no longer leaves me feeling unsettled.
He will be mine, in all his forms.MyGreat Prince of Hell.
His hands fall to my hips, one slipping beneath the silken fabric of my gown through the slit, stepping into me to guide me back towards the altar.
I’m not ready. “Wait,” I tell him, taking a deep breath to bring myself a little more clarity.
“Ask your questions,” he says, his whisper-soft voice stroking my senses as it often does. Leaving one of his hands on my hip, he takes a step back to give me a little more space to speak without his intense influence clouding my mind.
“I need to know what will happen to me when I die.”
“What do you desire?” he asks, a slight tilt to his head as he regards me carefully.
“What, you don’t already know?”
He laughs, the sound dark and musical, it seems out of place coming from the mouth of a demon. “I have learned that humans absorb information better when they have conversations that include equal exchange.”
I narrow my eyes and don’t answer him for several long seconds, contemplating his words. He knows everything, he has the gift of omniscience.
