Page 4 of Death C*mes Inside Her
Yes, why are you so blunt minded? I’ve been trying to tell you that since we came through the portal. Our mate…is here. Now put her on her knees demon.
In all the infinite darkness of hell and all the years I’ve played on earth, never did I believe I would find what so many of my kind seek. I’d come to believe it was a story told only to torture us more. To make us believe there was a chance to slake this all-consuming lust that lives inside us.
Could those old tales be true? Could she be the one?
Yes, stupid demon. It’s true now stop wasting time. I’ve waited thousands of years, and you’ll let her get away, fuck her!
“Shutup.” I hiss and her eyes go wide. “Not you.” I correct shaking my head.
I release her wrist, taking a step back, and she makes a fist, trying to hide the tremors shaking her hands. Then her eyes widen as she notices that her finger is no longer bleeding, the cut fully healed, the flesh as smooth as it was before she desecrated it.
The power of a demon’s kiss.
"Give me your name, human."
"I... Eve." Her voice is hesitant, breathy as she trembles, still gazing in wonder at her fingertip.
"Of course, Eve." I taste the word, rolling it around in my mouth, and my gaze slides down the line of her body and back up. I like the way she looks, the way she smells, the way she's trying not to shake. "I am Aios. You live here alone?"
"My father died a year ago. Men from the bank came and said I had to find somewhere else to go. But I don’t know where."
I chuckle. Men from the bank? Ridiculous human notion. Demonic possession is nine-tenths of celestial law.
This is my house, and she is going nowhere.
“You bled on the book and said the words—” I start, and she nods excitedly like she needs to tell someone her story.
“I never explored much while my father was alive. He didn’t like to see me, so I kept to my room and the kitchen, where I prepared his meals or cleaned only during the night when he slept.” Her chin flicks toward the upper hall. "I found a key in his desk, and a door that was always locked. Today, I opened it. There was a Bible inside, with words scrawled across the pages. Words that explained how to…" She gulps and stares at my eyes, and I feel her effort not to glance down at the living thing between my legs.
"Show me this room and this book," I demand.
She hesitates, and I can see her thinking it through, weighing her options. Then she points.
I turn and head up the stairs, and the wood complains beneath my weight. She follows, barefoot and quick, not afraid enough to stop herself.
Varak shadows along the baseboard, his eyes still locked on my growing phallus. He’s silent as death, and I ignore him.
Urges stronger than I should have fill me as she comes to my side.
"This way." She slips past me, close enough that I catch the warmth of her skin and a hint of fear mingling with her sweetness. A tangle of fire and ice spins down into my core as I follow through a doorway into a room lined with bookcases.
Heavy curtains choke off the moonlight, leaving the room dark except for the faint silver glow spilling through the gap between them. Everything is gray and muted. Thick carpet swallows our footsteps as we enter.
She stops in the center of the room, beside a pedestal where the heavy, gold-edged Bible stands open. She twists her fingers together, and the slip pulls tight across her hips. I catch myself staring, fighting the urge to sweep my tongue around her throat and taste the life inside her.
Her eyes widen. Her breath catches and then slows again, and I watch the slip shift against her nipples. She flushes when she sees me notice, but makes no move to hide.
Varak darkens against the far wall, bleeding into shadow.
I step towards her, palming her jaw, easing her face up until there's nowhere for her to look but at me. The Bible hums in my mind, a sensation not unlike pain behind my eyes. "You opened the doorway, little witch. Tell me why."
She should beg or cry, or try to run. Instead, she asks, "Are you going to hurt me?"
"Probably. But I promise you’ll enjoy it."
Her throat flexes under my hand, a little whimper as I feel her pulse jump. Her toes curl into the rug like she's trying to anchor herself.
I let the weight of me loom, let her feel how much bigger I am, how much stronger. Her hands hover for a second, then clutch the hem of her slip.
