A Demon's Dark Embrace: An Elite Guards Novel (26 page)

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Taking another finger full of whipped cream from the bowl, Olivia then grabbed the bowl of strawberries and moved to the giant bed, thought better of it, and continued to stand awkwardly as she held both the containers.

Ristan had taken a seat in the only chair in the room and she was not going to sit on the bed and have him watching her as she ate berries and whipped cream. She swallowed the bite in her mouth and was about to ask where she should sleep when he removed his tie, and set it aside, and then slowly, precisely, started unbuttoning the crisp white dress shirt without removing the jacket.

The black jacket was snug, but then again she preferred it that way on him, since she was more than a tad bit addicted to his body. He slowly undid the cuff links and pushed off the jacket. Her mouth went dry as he smiled at her, unbuckled the belt and slowly pulled it from the waistband next.

The shirt slid from his shoulders, revealing his wide chest and brands. The way they pulsed and glowed drew her eyes to his magnificent chest and abs. He didn’t remove his slacks; instead, he sat back in the chair, unafraid of the erection straining against the silken fabric. He rested his hands on the claw armrests of the chair and watched her as if she was the most desirable woman in the world.

In his presence, she could almost forget that she was a simple librarian, who hadn’t kissed a boy before she’d met him. She had never felt sexy in her life. Not even on the eventful day she’d mistakenly betrayed him. In his arms, though, she did. The way he looked at her made her breathing heavy, labored. Her breasts felt heavier, and her pussy was a constant flow of her desire when he was near.

She smiled back at him, dipped her finger to the knuckle in the heavy whipped cream, and then as she watched him, she slid it deep inside her mouth and listened for his groan of need. It didn’t come; instead he smiled with approval and crooked his finger at her.

Making sure her hips swayed in the sensual dress, she slowly made her way to where he was still seated. When she stood right in front of him, his eyes lowered to the hem of the dress, then higher to where her nipples pressed against the material, hard and ready for his attention.

He’d planned on taking her fast and hard, then using the hours between now and dawn to ravish her body endlessly. But after the experience when they’d returned from the catacombs, he wanted to take it slower and enjoy his time that he had left with her. He wanted to talk with her, to make what they did last. Instead of just fucking her, he wanted to take things slowly. It was odd, how what he wanted to happen and where events usually led him were often two very different things.

He swallowed past the uncomfortable dryness in his mouth as he considered what it could mean, but dismissed the thought before it could take him down a path he wasn’t sure he was ready to follow yet.

“You’re so beautiful, Olivia,” he whispered, surprising them both. Normally he’d resort to something snarky, or hide behind the sarcasm that he’d used to disguise what he was really feeling. Instead, he smiled and crooked a finger at her.

The moment she was close enough, he removed the bowl of berries from her hand, slid it onto the small table, then the whipped cream, right before he claimed her mouth, which tasted of both. He groaned at how delicious she tasted with the hint of strawberries still on her full mouth.

She pulled away from the kiss and he smiled. A light flick of his fingers and music filled the room. Imagine Dragons’
Second Chances
played softly; his hands already worked to lift the skirt of the dress as his mouth once again claimed hers.

He reached down and lifted her small body until she was forced to wrap her legs around his waist. Her moan was music to his ears as he took her to the bed, uncaring that he was moving faster than he had wanted to. He pulled away from the kiss and looked down into her sapphire eyes.

“I think I have more feelings for you than I should have,” he admitted. “Feelings aren’t supposed to make sense, though, right? They confuse the fuck out of me and make me twisted inside,” he whispered as he gently touched his forehead to hers. “Tell me it’s not just me who feels this connection,” he muttered.

“It’s not,” she whispered as a single tear slid from her eyes. She wasn’t sure why she felt the emotional bond to him, but she did. He was like consuming a steak after a steady diet of vegetables and saltine crackers. Juicy and rare, she couldn’t get enough of him, and she was fucking starving. “I feel this pull towards you, and I’m not sure I should do this, but I can’t say no. I don’t want to say no. I want you,” she whispered brokenly, and moaned as his mouth pressed hard against hers.

His knees parted her legs as he slid his hand between them and pressed against her pussy through the soft material of the dress. “This is mine now; you realize I’m never letting you go, right?” he assured her, his voice held enough command that she was helpless to do anything other than moan her consent.

“Say it,” he growled huskily.

“It’s yours,” she confirmed on a murmur and then moaned as he glamoured the rest of their clothing away and his flesh met hers.

“All mine,” he agreed as he sat back on his knees and took in her naked perfection.

She didn’t have huge breasts, but they were perfectly rounded and her nipples were created to entertain his favorite fantasies. The slick, wet curls that shielded her pussy drove him insane for some reason. He’d glamoured a lot of hair off in his days, which was an easy thing for him, but he couldn’t bring himself to touch her perfect patch of red curls.

Danu had been right. She’d seen through him as to what he really desired, which was vastly different than the type of female he normally had pursued. The type of female he’d convinced himself for centuries that he wanted, not just for their safety, but also for his own sanity. It was always at the forefront of his mind and the reason he’d gone after the kind of females who were used to quick sex and being alone when they woke up the next morning.

Perhaps that was why it was so hard for him to understand why this shy, naive female who’d been untouched by any other man created this maelstrom of emotions inside of him. Everything about her was perfection to him, which was saying something, considering he’d always looked at his sexual partners and found something he didn’t like. Perhaps that was what made it easy for him to hit it and quit it. With Olivia, he loved everything, right down to her frown when she was lost in whatever was running through her pretty little head.

He lifted his hand in the air; from the wall lined with toys, a package flew through the air and into his hand. He used his teeth to tear the package open and carefully placed the dainty clamps on her stomach as he lowered his mouth to her perky nipple.

She groaned and lifted her hips as she rocked them against his erection. He pulled hard from one nipple before he lifted his head and stared between their bodies to where his pulsing cock was being rubbed by her sweet pussy. Fuck she was so hot; her innocence was addicting. He reached down between them and sat up a bit, using his cock to slap her soft nub, which pulled a soft groan of frustration from her lips.

“You want that buried in your sweet, tight pussy, don’t you, my good girl?” he taunted, his eyes never leaving hers as they grew heated and languid from her need.

“Yes,” she replied huskily as she gasped for air. This creature made her insane with need, leaving her bones as nothing but mush when he finished with her, and to know that he wasn’t immune to the same feelings she’d been having was overwhelming.

He smiled and moved back to her breasts, his mouth hungrily licking and sucking against her flesh. She was in heaven, she had to be. These sensations he created, a storm unfurling in her womb to move through her every nerve ending; he did this. His hand moved to the clamps that were still on her stomach, and picked one up. She felt a slight pinch as it was clamped onto her nipple.

He sat up and nipped at her other sensitive nipple with his teeth, creating a moan in her throat that threatened to explode from her lips. Her eyes remained on his as he clamped that nipple as well.

The pressure applied from the clamps was perfect, but the moment he turned them on with a remote she hadn’t noticed before, her body stiffened and that moan left her lips as her eyes closed in pleasure.

He laughed at her response to the clamps, which forced her to open her eyes about the same time she felt him sliding whipped cream over her midriff, and lower.

“What are you doing?” she whispered, half worried, half curious as to why he’d just lathered her in whipped cream and was even now grabbing a berry which he rubbed against her pussy before licking it lazily.

“Don’t worry, Olivia, I love to play with my food,” he assured her as he doodled the berry on her whipped cream-covered stomach, his innuendo easily understood as his mouth lowered and that sinfully long tongue stroked the side of her belly.

She moaned and let her head fall to the soft blankets covering the bed. His mouth continued lavishing, licking, and nipping against the cream as music played in the background. She vaguely wondered why she wasn’t horrified at what she was doing; she should be ashamed by her own eagerness to fuck him, but this wasn’t just fucking anymore. This was something entirely more emotional to her than that, and had been for some time. His fingers brought her back to reality as two pushed inside her tight slit, then slid back out.

“Look at me,” he commanded, his tone brooking no argument. “I’m going to get more cream,” he whispered. “You’re going to give it to me, right?” he asked with an amused look on his face as he lowered his mouth to her pussy. “You’re all strawberries and cream, even when it’s not lavished upon your sweet curves,” he murmured as his tongue slid out and trailed firmly over her slick folds. “I want you to keep count of how many times you come tonight, got it?”

She mumbled something incoherent and he stopped, turning off the clamps and moving his mouth away from where she needed it the most.

“Understand?”

“Yes,” she whispered even as her hips rocked with need.

“I’m going to get one out of you quickly,” he growled. “Then I’m going to bury my cock inside of you and fuck this sweet flesh until I come, and then, oh then, sweet girl, I’m going to make you come for hours until you beg me to stop.”

“I will never beg you for mercy,” she whispered, there was a fire in her eyes that he knew he’d created.

“Is that a challenge? Because I love being challenged in the bedroom,” he replied as he turned the remote for the clamps to the highest setting and moved his body close to hers.

“You’re teasing me,” she whispered through the moans of pleasure as he rubbed the thick head of his cock over her wet pussy. He used his hand to control it, slapping her clitoris at the exact moment she needed pressure, and she knew it was from his touching her, feeling what she needed and when.

He continued until she exploded from the combination of the clamps and his cock beating firmly against her pussy. As she came, he pushed into her wet cove and rocked his hips as she continued to come around his wide cock. It took him seconds to explode as her body pulsed hungrily around his shaft. He immediately pulled out and cleansed their bodies before he lifted her leg with his hand and slapped her ass firmly with his free hand.

“I said keep count.”

“You spanked me!” she whimpered, and he smiled.

“Oh my sweet little girl, you have so much to learn about my world,” he warned with eagerness in his soul that he hadn’t felt in a very long time. “And I will enjoy every moment of your education.” He let his hand land firmly against her rounded ass cheek and then reminded her to count.

“One!” she whimpered on a hiss.

“Good girl,” he said as he bent over to kiss her already kiss swollen lips. “Ninety-nine more to go and maybe I’ll give you a break once we reach one hundred.”

Ristan watched as her body buzzed with the powerful clamps and smiled as he sensed her next orgasm already growing. Fucking hell, this little Witch was his match in every way. Her body was his own heaven, and her pussy was the golden gates which allowed him to be somewhere a Demon like him could never go.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Ristan had been true to his word, and the moment she whispered the last number, one hundred, he finally awarded her with a small interval, but only so she could purge the missing pages onto the provided parchment. Olivia managed to sort through the jumbled mental notes in her mind and transferred the pages that Lucian wanted, along with some notes she thought might be needed to decipher the missing parts.

As soon as she finished, Ristan cleaned them both up and glamoured Olivia into a fresh pair of jeans that hugged her perfectly in all the right places, leather boots, and a Black Sabbath
Fairies Wear Boots
t-shirt. With a wink, he glamoured himself into fresh jeans, boots, t-shirt, and finished his wardrobe with a long leather coat. He ‘d barely thrust a cup of steaming hot coffee into her hands when the door clicked open, alerting them that it was time to go. He wasted no time sifting her back to the Guild so that they could get started on cross-referencing the information in her head with actual details from the archives in the catacombs. If Olivia was right, it wouldn’t be long before they had the elusive dagger.

He’d sifted her back down to the catacombs where he now sat at one of the small wooden tables while she pulled out several files for him to scroll through. He’d flicked his finger and Fall Out Boy’s
Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes
echoed around them.  Olivia grinned at the sacrilege of him blaring music in the catacombs, but hey, who was going to shush them? Her eyes fell on a bowl of jelly beans that had appeared on the table and her heart skipped a beat. He must have discovered her sweet tooth as he’d spied on her. She’d always kept a bowl of the candy on her desk with the intent that it was for others, when in reality she was addicted to jelly beans.

“Here’s another reference to the church in Ireland. It’s discolored, but if you look at the archive here,” she said as she displayed the scroll for them to see; her arm grazed his which sparked a jolt of emotion through her. “And here,” she said as she pulled out another one. “I think it’s speaking of something that is not of the Guild, but was considered pretty important to the Fae, and if you look at this one,” she continued as she pulled out another scroll and rolled it out in front of him. “This one speaks of the importance of keeping it hidden from the Fae at all cost. Sound like it could be what you’re looking for?” she asked, her hand grazing his as she placed the other slips of ancient paper beside him.

“This is the one Marie spoke to you and Synthia about, right?” he questioned.

“It is,” she said, but she paused and shook her head. “It makes no sense, because it all points to Saint Patrick, but no one knows for sure where he was buried, not to mention he died in the mid-fifth century. You told me that the relics were stolen from Faery when the Templar Knights were still in power. Saint Patrick’s Cathedral in Dublin was originally built around the time their power was starting to decline—wait a second.” She scrunched her nose in puzzlement as she studied several scrolls. “It’s all wrong; look at this,” she said holding up a map. “This points to a stairway, but it’s not on any diagrams of the cathedral. It also leads below the water table, which would make it a stairway into nothing,” she growled with frustration. “It’s stupid, because the water table is so high under the cathedral that the builders decided there could never be a crypt or any catacombs under the actual cathedral itself. The tombs would be ruined; they’d never chance it.”

“Unless it’s a lie, and they want you to think that it was impossible to have catacombs beneath the cathedral,” Ristan pointed out.

“Yes, but the high water table isn’t a lie. It’s been pretty well-documented over the centuries.”

“Look at this place, Olivia,” he said as he used his arms to indicate the room they were in.  “There’s no map with these catacombs on it. They’re hidden; the entrances are open to the Guild alone, hidden under the city of Spokane. Each entrance has been memorized by Guild librarians and passed on as tribal knowledge from generation to generation of librarians. Each entrance from the outside leading to the catacombs is concealed with magic, Guild magic. You can’t get around the idea of high water table, and I’m sure they were counting on anyone else being stuck on the same stumbling point that you are. There’s no proof that there isn’t a secret door that leads into an underground room in that cathedral, which means until we can prove it otherwise, we need to believe that they hid the dagger in that church. There’s another church less than a ten-minute walk away, Christ Church, which does have catacombs. I’m willing to bet that they both have more than the public is aware of, because Ireland has always been wrapped in secrets. From the beginning of their history, the land has been coveted. The Fomoire and Tuatha Dé Danann terrified the Gaels and they learned to hide their secrets well. The Roman, Viking, and Norman invaders that came after just solidified their predisposition to hiding their best secrets, usually wrapped in whatever religion prevailed at the time.”

“So you think it’s been purposely kept from the public? It’s a little hard to hide from prying eyes, and over centuries, no less,” she sighed, closing her eyes briefly with as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “The only way this one has remained secret is because the Guild never let the general public in. Those churches are tourist attractions.”

“There is that,” he agreed. “But they wouldn’t have been when those churches were built and I’m not convinced that they wouldn’t have used magic to protect it,” he continued, his eyes slowly looking around the giant room they were in. “Take this place, for example; the exits that lead out into the city are protected by magic. No one outside of the librarians can access those doors because they’ve been spelled.”

Olivia nodded with understanding, but it didn’t solve their problem. “If they’ve been spelled, we won’t be able to open them, either.”

“That’s not entirely correct,” he said impishly. “My magic undoes most spells and wards that an average Witch can cast. When Synthia first entered the Dark Towers, we knew it because her magic pushed against mine. It’s also why being here was such a bitch for me; my magic conflicted with the amount of magic being used daily in the Guild. I think there are either secret rooms, catacombs or more, hidden in the churches in Ireland, because these scrolls not only point to their existence, it also documents that the first Witches Guild had origins in Ireland. We have known where the Guild originated for centuries, but these scrolls confirm what we have suspected all along; that the Guild was created for more than just fighting Fae, and considering that the Mages were hiding here, it’s probable.”

“You know a lot about our history, and considering it’s not public knowledge, that’s telling. You don’t look old enough to know everything that you do. Just how old are you?” she asked with her eyes on him and a curious twist on her lips.

“Old enough to know better, young enough to do it twice and see if it gets my rocks off,” he grinned and watched as her mouth curved into a beautiful smile before she giggled openly, which did things to his heart that he wasn’t sure he wanted it to.

“You’re not anything like the Guild told us or taught us to believe. I’ve read a ton of magazines and studied those Fae to an extent, but those ones are more formal. Some even seem as if they are from another time, stuffy and stuck up. So are there more like you, or are they like they appear to be on TV and magazines?” she asked with curiosity gleaming in her eyes.

“Be a bit boring if we were all the same, now wouldn’t it?” he said as he leaned back in his chair, watching her intently as he tried to figure out where she was going with her questions. “Are you the same as every other librarian of the Guild?” he countered.

“I’d like to think I wasn’t,” she admitted. “I’m trying to understand you. I can’t understand a lot of things, and nothing the Guild taught me seems to carry weight. It’s quite scary knowing that I never questioned anything. I just always thought that they were on the right side. It’s difficult to swallow the truth I guess.” She paused, watching him as he stared at her.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked.

“If I can do the same after I’ve finished answering you,” she said with a bright smile.

Ristan felt his heart sink, because people normally only asked him about his family, not caring about him in particular. Of course, he’d never been of the mind to care too much about what people thought. Caring was a dangerous slope.

“In your apartment at the Guild, all of the walls had picture frames, yet every one of them had the stock photos of model families that came with them upon purchase. Why?” he asked, watching as her lips tugged down until she frowned.

“I had planned to fill them,” she admitted. “I was going to get married and give birth to as many babies as I could so that I could fill them all. I was lonely and wanted family,” she laughed softly with the memory. “I started collecting those when I was twelve, and I just never got around to getting rid of them. My turn,” she announced. “What was it like growing up as a child in the Horde?”

“Fine I guess, as long as I remained out of sight,” he said with a shrug. “I heard you teaching the children about the Horde, so I know you understand that the Horde is and will always be the strongest of the Fae and it is true that all of the ‘monsters’ of the Otherworld tend to make up much of the Horde. The Horde appreciates and actively recruits strength and gives safe harbor to those creatures that are not welcomed by the other Fae Castes. Safe harbor does not always mean acceptance, though. Part of the Horde King’s role is to keep the most dangerous of the Otherworld creatures away from the weak, so it is best that they stay with the Horde,” he said and swallowed hard. “My father was brutal. We may be the strongest and the deadliest of the Fae, but the Horde itself is not evil as everyone says.”

“Your father was,” she whispered, her mind mentally perusing a full set of archives that had been dedicated to the carnage they knew had been done by the Horde King.

“He wasn’t stable, and he knew it, I think,” he admitted. He wasn’t sure why he was speaking of his father with her, only that it didn’t give him that sick feeling he normally got when he spoke of Alazander. “When I was just a child, he tried to kill me on several occasions.”

“That’s horrible,” she gasped. “He was your father!”

“He has a lot of children,” he said softly, his eyes unfocused on her and looked away briefly. “He took the things that his wife and concubines loved, and tore them apart. For my mother, it was what she was, one of the most fierce and proud Demon princesses of the Soul-Seeking Demon clan. He took her horns, tail, and wings shortly after she arrived here. Once I arrived, he went after me. I was her only child, so he used me to get her to be submissive and compliant with anything he wanted. He did it to them all, and a few went insane or catatonic, like Ryder’s mother. He was the hardest on her, from what my mother said. He gave her three children before she went crazy. Ryder saved my ass more than I care to admit, but that’s how life was.” He swallowed the painful memory and continued. “My father hated me, and I’m sure it was because I took after my mother’s side instead of his, which was illogical, as all Fae take after the mother and they inherit the brands of their father. He continued trying to kill me, until one day the Goddess asked me to become her servant, and I willingly accepted in exchange for the protection of myself and my mother.”

“The brand, the one on your chest, is it her mark?” she asked as her eyes lowered to the spot which was concealed by his shirt.

“She accepted my vow and almost immediately I began to have visions of the future. The visions didn’t protect us from my father, although it did change my value to him. Something that is not common knowledge with the Guild is the change that the Fae go through when they come into their magic. Transition. The High Fae didn’t know about the Demon Haze and assumed that my father’s blood would win out in this when it came my time to go through Transition. I killed four females. Violently, and I don’t remember much of it,” he said as he made a disgusted noise. “It was such a fucking waste. The Demon awoke; he was starving, and they died because of arrogance and ignorance that could have easily been prevented.” He was startled as her soft hand wrapped around his.

“That’s sad,” she whispered, and he looked up to find her eyes wet, and no damnation as he’d expected her to have in them for him after hearing his tale. “What happened when they discovered that you’d accidently killed them?”

“I couldn’t change back to Fae. For about two or more hours I was stuck in my full Demon form. That’s when my father took them from me. Everything that made me a Demon, he took. My skin still turns red, and I have a nice set of fangs that tend to show when I fight; that wasn’t something he could take away and for the most part, I have learned to control it. Unfortunately, he couldn’t take the hunger that had been awoken from feeding off of souls, and he compounded the problem by forbidding me from soul-feeding in Faery. Ryder brought me here, trying to keep me alive. It became something he did for me often until I learned to open portals on my own. I’ve been trying to control the Demon for centuries, just skimming souls so that it doesn’t kill by taking the entire soul. It’s not common for Demons to be able to hold back the hunger, but somehow I manage. It’s a bitch to harness it; he’s always there, waiting. I don’t think it’s anything like what my brother has to deal with since he killed our father, so I don’t complain about it. Can’t change genetics, even with the Fae,” he said, watching as she continued to watch him, her sapphire eyes wide with acceptance, and not a trace of revulsion.

“Has it ever fed from me?” she surprised him by asking. “I mean, I know that when the Fae feed, their eyes glow. I noticed it when you were…” She paused as if she was looking for the right words.

“When I fucked you,” he said with a sardonic smile on his lips. “Say it, sweet lips. Fucking. I fucked you. I enjoy fucking you. You fucking get me,” he said and they both laughed. “To answer your question, yes, I’ve fed from your soul. It’s unlike the others I’ve nibbled at, and that’s all I took. I don’t dare take more, because as I do, it becomes harder to stop at just a nibble. I can feed from fucking, or emotions, but the Demon has to be fed as well,” he concluded.

“I taste different?” she asked, her eyes wide with surprise.

“I’ve not tasted too many Witches; they are not easily seduced by their enemies.”

“Do I taste good, at least?” she asked with a worried look.

“You taste like heaven wrapped up in a bowl full of sinful deliciousness.”

“That’s a strange combination,” she laughed as Ristan watched her. “What happens when you take a piece of the soul?” she asked softly.

“They regenerate. Most take a bit of time to heal, but yours heals more quickly than most. It could be whatever else is mixed in your genealogy, or it could be simply because you’re a Witch. As I said, I have not made it a habit to feed from Witches.”

Olivia felt horrified by what he had told her, but it had created this beautiful creature who hadn’t hurt her, and had actually been gentle with her since day one.

“Do you miss him?” she asked.

“Who?”

“Your father,” she continued. “I have never had one, so I don’t miss him since I never was given the chance to know him. You lost him though, and even though he was pretty much Satan wrapped up in Fairy dust, he was your father.”

“No; in fact I helped Ryder kill him, and don’t regret it even for a moment. I hated him and he hated me solely because my mother is a Demon and I took after her. Demons aren’t exactly accepted by the Fae. Most Fae, anyway. My brothers don’t care what I am, but my father took that hatred to extremes. Growing up, that was something I had to come to terms with pretty damn quickly. I decided that they could fuck themselves if they didn’t want me around.  I found ways to insinuate myself in with them, eventually. The sight from Danu was a blessing, as well as a curse. No one should have to see some of the shit I have seen in my lifetime… It was valuable though, and needed. I may have been through some shit, and trust me, it wasn’t easy to go through, but I did find a way through it. Kind of like you. You didn’t feel like you belonged; you were shy and you retreated. From what I saw at the Guild, it was like you didn’t want to attract attention. You also didn’t have anyone who recognized what you were going through. I at least had two brothers that supported me as a child. I figured out a way to force myself into any situation I wanted to be involved in and other ways around the rules I thought were unfair. Things have changed for the better since Ryder killed him, and we have been working to get the Horde back to what it once was since the day our father died. The Mages are fucking the plan up big time, though. Finding the relics that the Templars stole will go a long way towards righting a lot of wrong, Olivia,” he said softly.

“Seems almost impossible to have gone through so much,” she agreed. “I do believe you about the relics, and I do want to help you find them,” she said with an easy smile. Her eyes slid down his body, taking in his well-defined abs that the shirt failed to hide. “You know, if you have been around for as long as I think you’ve been, you are seriously robbing the cradle with this one,” she laughed as she pointed a thumb to herself and expelled a breath with a smile.