Page 13 of Corrupt Shadows

He digs his claws farther into the skin on her hips, and crimson covers her skin, dressing her like a sublimely macabre painting. He lifts by her ass, just high enough to look at where his fat dick is stretching her tight pussy.

I stand from the couch, stalking around the couple. I grip my painfully hard cock at the base to stave off my impending orgasm. My double widens his stance, his thickly muscled thighs flexing with each bounce as he slams her onto him, using her like his personal sex doll.

I stop perpendicular to them. Evie’s head hangs back, her hair pooling on the floor behind her as the dream version of me doubles his pace, wrecking her with inhuman speed.

I kneel inches away from them and inhale deeply. “Godsdamn.” The witch’s subconscious is so strong, I can smell the sex oozing from them. I lick my upper lip and groan. Slickness coats her thighs, the scent a mix of honey and something primal. My fingers flex as I watch the torturous scene play out before me, and it takes all my restraint not to engage. It would be so easy to lean in and lick the place where they’re joined.

“Fuck, little one, you’re going to be so much fun to play with before I break you.”

Her scream reverberates in my skull, and my erection throbs painfully.

My double and I watch as he rams half of his veiny length into her cunt. A shadow forms, grinding down onto her clit. My cock twitches, and pre-cum seeps into my pants as she comes all over herself and my double’s dick. I pant and bare my teeth. My claws dig deeply into my bent knees. Blood soaks the material, and a puddle forms on the floor beneath me.

The dream version of me lowers to his knees, using the momentum to impale her as deeply as he can, then he slices long, razor-like teeth into the junction of her shoulder and neck. He stills, then fills her with his spend. After, he recalls his claws, releasing the witch. She slips off of his dick and falls to the carpet, her legs landing on either side of his body, leaving herself spread wide before him.

Without another word, he turns on his heel and strides completely nude back through the mirror.

The look of hatred on her face sends glee through my bones.

I leave her dream, my dick still rock hard against my pants. She turns over in her bed in the real world, a small, satisfied moan escaping in her sleep. I catch myself wishing I could go through, to touch her in real life, but dismiss the intense desire. Lust was always my weakness.

I walk to the window in the Shadow Realm version of her apartment, then spark up a cigarette. After holding the first inhale in my mouth, I create an oval with my lips, letting smoke climb over my lips and into my nostrils.

Darkness shrouds the mountains and forests against the horizon, so the silhouettes are barely visible. I glance down at the street and flickering lamppost. An eerie blue hue emits around demons as they glide down the streets. Some, in their human form, wear clothes all from different eras. Others remain in their demonic forms, with tails, talons, and razor-sharp teeth.

I was born to rule them. Being a son of Satan means possessing more power—and bloodlust—than the rest. My six brothers and I embody the deadly sins, each of us leading different areas. However, to my dismay, I am the only one who can’t step foot into the Human Realm, even with a demonic attachment. The Fallenmoore witches made sure of that, tying my fate here with their bloodline.

One demon watches the humans in the apartment across the road from Evie’s. His tail twitches as he stares greedily into the vanity mirror, casting shadows in the low lighting of a lamp. Few mortals are aware that mirrors are portals, allowing us to look through them and into their world. If they did, I’m certain humans would cover them up.

Demons’ favorite activity is spying on the Human Realm, each of the demons feeding on humans’ sins through mirrors. I stare as the demon across the street looks through their bedroom mirror at a couple arguing. He strokes his cock, going between his demonic appearance and his shadowy form, feeding off their anger.

I finish the cigarette, open the window, and flick it outside.

Rage resonates through me as loneliness hits me again. I hate it, and until I was trapped in here, I didn’t know I could feel it at all. Despite the millions of demonic forces also in the Shadow Realm, I am isolated. In Hell, I not only ruled the demons but I could feed off human souls trapped there. With a court of souls who lived to serve me, I didn’t know what it meant to be alone.

Until I was caged.

I shake my head at the painful memory and instead focus on when I was banished to the Human Realm. There were far worse punishments, and being around the mortals and their wicked sins filled me with deranged content. Corrupting them was easy, and I enjoyed every second of it, until I befriended a few of them. I should have known better than to have lowered myself to trusting one.

But I did, and all it got me was eternal damnation in the Shadow Realm.

I turn my back toward the demon and look around the witch’s apartment. She’s my only salvation from this place. As much as her dream startled me, I am reminded by the tarot cards and Ouija board tucked away on her black bookshelf that while she doesn’t seem to practice her incredible power, she is still a witch.

The last time I trusted a Fallenmoore witch, it ruined me. Never again.

My nostrils flare, my lip twitching as I curl my fingers into my palms and glare at the photo encased in a black frame, of her with her pink-haired friend.

This manipulative little one will crave me so much that she aches, her core throbbing every time the thought of me crosses her mind. The more I drive her pleasure and fear, the more she’ll have no choice but to allow her magic out, destabilizing everything she’s trying to hide from.

She’s afraid of her power, and she doesn’t trust herself with it. Once she breaks, she’ll be forced to embrace the parts of herself she hides from. She’ll hate me, and that thought is tempting as fuck.

FIVE

Evie

I pop my ninth pill for the evening. I’ve been spacing them out, but the high isn’t as good as usual. Half a milligram is nothing anymore, but it keeps my magic contained, and that’s what matters. Still, tiredness comes over me, and the book I’m reading is far less enjoyable. The small lamp behind the sofa casts a soft, orange glow onto the cream pages.

My muscles tense when Gomez nestles against my neck. His wings curl around him. My hair falls around his body as he sits on my shoulder, looking at the book open on my lap as if he can read. I glance toward my office, which is more like a library these days. Instead of going in there to grab a new book from my to-be-read pile, I stick to the ones I’ve already read on my two shelves in the living room.

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