Page 20 of Demon Sworn
I tamp down on my urge to toss out the names of fifty other lie demons, because Lucillania and I both know that Cal has become the best. He’s spent the last few years up there honing his skills on figuring out who’s naughty and nice in Christmas Village with his Center, a—gag—half angel. Santa’s daughter.
Of course, I could argue that Cal specializes in white lies, not deep deceptions.My spine starts to sizzle as soon as I think that, and I have to bite down a yelp of pain as my eyes fly to Lucillania. She looks at me and shakes her head, answering my unspoken thought.
Zolroth speaks for the first time since Lucillania arrived. “Well, I guess I’ll go grab all those snow suits I bought on spring clearance last year. Van, mitten duty. Hall closet.”
The devil gives him an indulgent grin. “Wonderful. You do that.” Her head whips back to me, and even with her glasses on, I can feel the intensity of her stare like she’s trying to melt my very bones. “I’ll expect regular check-ins, Raziel.”
I gulp but give a stiff nod, because you never say no to the devil.
When she doesn’t sense any sort of reluctance in my thoughts, she smiles. “Good. I’ll see myself out.” She turns towards Katrina, and her smile turns soft. “Don’t worry, my dear friend. We’ll find your brother. For now, I need to check on some things in Hell.” A wall of orange flames appears out of nowhere, right on our red rug. She and her hellhounds walk into it. A second later, the flame dissolves with a hiss, though a small line of burning carpet remains.
Kastros dumps Jason off his lap and hurries over to stomp the flame out. We’re left with the delightful scent of burnt rug.
Akor inhales with a smile. “Mmmm. They really should make a candle out of that smell, shouldn’t they?”
I barely resist the urge to cuff him over the head.
But I’ve got more important things to do. Like prepare for a visit with a demon I pissed off so that I can ask a favor.
I stomp over to my room and let the others get ready. I grab a towel and go hop into the shower because I think best in steam and mist, and Earth doesn’t have nearly enough geysers for it to be easy to visit them. The hot water reminds me of the heat of the burning glass reverse rain showers back in Hell. Nostalgia hits me for a minute, but I shove it back and focus.
Last time I saw Cal was when he invited me to the swearing ceremony with their Center—the official bonding ceremony between demons and their mate.
Like the arrogant prick I am, I’d told him to eat a chainsaw and that I would never,eversupport him and his murder’s stupid ass attachment to a woman who was halfway to being a mindless drone.
There may have been a fistfight that followed. An attempted disemboweling. A series of nightmares in which his lady dreamt of slitting her guys’ throats. That had probably pissed him off the most, the cherry on the shit sundae our friendship had become.
Cal had run to Lucillania about it.
Of course, she’d nixed me and taken his side because we finally had an in on Christmas. Demons had been trying to infiltrate that shit for centuries, and Cal’s murder had done the unthinkable. They’ve slowly been turning a holiday all about goodness and following the rules into one about materialism, gag gifts, family drama, and selfish wants.
They’ve become the damned fiery poster boys for Hell. They even have an annual calendar. My own mother had a copy. Last month, I saw Cal posing beside a Christmas tree, naked except for a few ornaments covering his dick. Talk about traumatic.
All proceeds went to feeding Santa’s reindeer, like Christmas was a goddamned charity. Ugh. It made me want to puke.
I test the water in the shower before I climb in, making sure the water is hot enough to scald. My chest tightens as I lather up and scrub down. Now, I’m going to have to do the one fucking thing every demon dreads almost as much as getting his wings clipped. I’m going to have to apologize to another demon.
I can just imagine Cal’s scowl, how he’ll pretend to accept my apology but refuse to help us. And then losing Adam will be all my fucking fault.
Dammit!
My hand slams into the tiles, cracking one of them. My teeth grit together, and I force myself to turn so that the spray hits my back and I can’t continue to maim the house for my own stupidity. I gather more soap onto my palms. Then I deliberately skip washing my shoulders and upper back, normally the second stop in my bathing routine. Instead, I wash my balls, because it’s impossible to wash your balls and not be gentle. There’s no way you can hold onto agitation and your balls at the same time.
Of course, touching them feels kind of good. And I could use a stress reliever right about now. My slick, soaped up hand slides from my balls up to my dick and starts to stroke. Katrina pops into my thoughts. I imagine her naked. She smiles and bites that thick lower lip of hers, but somehow, even though I can picture her nipples perfectly, the image is missing something. I slow my strokes and try again. Katrina’s standing in my room wearing nothing but those tall schoolgirl socks that slide just over her knees. Oh yeah. That’s it. Fuck.
Apparently, I have a sock fetish. What the fuck ever. I go with it. I imagine spinning Katrina around and bending her over my bed so I can see that luscious ass. I love how thick and juicy it is, that heart shaped curve. I peer at that gap between her thighs and imagine touching that soft entrance only to find her wet and burning hot.
My imagination clicks over to a new scene like it’s a slideshow, and all of a sudden, Katrina and I are in the clouds. She’s spread beneath me and we’re in the main room of Heaven’s ugly ass purple cloud castle. She grins from her spot on the floor as I prop myself up over her and shove my thick cock into her tight opening. Yeah. Fuck yeah. My hand strokes faster as I imagine the two of us desecrating Heaven with so much cum that angels have to step in it, too many sticky puddles for them to avoid.
I let my thumb roll over the sensitive tip of my dick and stick my other hand behind me, index finger rimming my ass shooting spikes of pleasure up my spine.
What if I fucked Katrina in Christmas Village? What if I asked her to suck me off right under Santa’s tree and then took her into some workshop and tossed all the toys off a random table, listening to them break with satisfying cracks and wheezes as I laid her out and shoved her thighs apart and dove head first into that sweet pussy?
The imagined taste of her, her moans and writhing, send me right to the edge. I shove my finger up my ass and hit that prostate and then groan as my vision winks out and my balls unleash load after load of cum.
I sag against the tiles and take a moment. But when I straighten and continue to rinse off, my mind is made up. I’m gonna do whatever the fuck it takes to get Cal to forgive me. Because I want to save Adam and put a smile on Katrina’s face again. But also because one day, I want the chance to make all those little fantasies I just had come true.
9
