Awakened by a Demoness (2 page)

Desire.

The corner of his profane mouth twitched into a smirk.

He knew he was affecting her, and while his mouth said that pleased him, the way his eyes darkened said it didn’t.

She straightened her spine, crushed her unruly feelings and boxed them away, and held her head high as she marched towards him, all business. Not weak. Not affected by just his damned gorgeous presence.

Her step faltered when she noticed a smouldering bloody stain on the white marble floor.

His last appointment?

By the Devil, she was going to die in the next few seconds, or worse, at a later date after he was done with her.

When she was within a few metres, he lowered his right leg from his left knee and set his foot on the floor. His hands came down over the edges of the arms of his black throne, curling around to press sharp black claws into the stone and causing his biceps to bulge.

Behind him, a sheer black curtain did a poor job of concealing the other half of the room and she tried not to look there but her eyes were drawn to the hazy glow of candles on the other side, her focus snagged by the low moans coming from that direction.

That heat curled around her again, pushed at her will but she pushed back, refusing to fall prey to it and the Devil’s dark allure. She wasn’t about to become like those females on the other side of the curtain who were probably writhing around on his bed, waiting impatiently for the male who was staring at her.

“Asteria of the Second Legion.” His deep voice rumbled around the room like thunder, charging the air and sending tremors of pleasure through her, and she had to squeeze her thighs to stop herself from collapsing into a puddle of goo at his feet. Heaven be doubly damned, it had built this male for sin. Thoughts of dirty hard sex popped into her head, illicit images that she did her best to shove away as soon as they burst into existence. “You disappointed me.”

Just like that, the spell over her shattered and cold fear replaced the wicked heat of desire.

This was it.

Her death knell.

No one disappointed the Prince of Darkness and lived to tell the tale.

Was it going to be the lava pit or his bed and then the lava pit if she survived?

Asteria was disappointed herself when part of her jumped right onto the second option, salivating for it despite what she knew of him. She gritted her teeth and bashed that stupid urge over the head until it was dead and she could focus again.

The Devil might be insanely handsome, darkly alluring, but she was still acutely aware of the things he did to his bedfellows, giving them more pain than pleasure, working his black magic on them so they stayed firmly under his spell and calm until he wanted to feel their fear and agony.

He spread his muscular thighs, giving her an epic view of his no doubt in proportion big codpiece, and stared at her, those striking red eyes glittering in the warm light from the chandelier above her. They burned into her, setting her aflame, and she fought the rising desire, the crazy part of her that had resurrected and was whispering that it wouldn’t be so bad to end up in his bed.

She shuddered but didn’t let him see it, afraid she would end up like the poor bitches writhing around on the other side of the sheer black curtain.

She would sooner be the puddle staining his shiny white marble floor.

He sighed and she braced herself.

“I expect you to make up for failing me.”

Asteria blinked. Had she heard that right? She stared at him, not daring to hope that she wasn’t about to meet a gruesome end. She must have heard him wrong, or maybe he meant for her to make it up to him by servicing his needs. She suppressed another shudder.

He raked blazing red eyes over her, from head to toe and back again, his irises slowly darkening and pupils stretching into thin slits in their centres.

“I am in a lenient mood, but do not expect me to spare you my wrath if you fail me again.”

Her heart fluttered and she quickly pressed her left hand to her breastplate and lowered her head. “Thank you, my most gracious master.”

He huffed. “Spare me your grovelling and listen well, Asteria of the Second Legion.”

She raised her head, found his eyes almost black as he scowled at her, menace rolling off him and triggering her instincts, the ones that told her to back away from the danger right in front of her.

She managed to convince her feet to stay planted to the floor, her hand to remain steady against her chest, and waited, part of her still sure that she was destined for his bed and a bloody death. How many of the demons she had foolishly become friends with had ended that way or like the puddle on the floor to her left?

Her dark master had a temper and a very short fuse, and that was the reason she had decided not to make any more friends, and the reason she had decided to guard her heart and keep her relationships to meaningless sex and one night stands. It was easier that way. It hadn’t taken her long to realise she had made the right decision after cutting herself off emotionally from everyone she knew. Life was better with no strings attached, free of the ties that bound people together in an endless cycle of pain and suffering.

The Devil rose onto his feet and looked down on her, towering at least ten inches taller than she was, so she had to tip her head back to hold his gaze.

Black feathered wings threaded with gold sprouted from his back and he spread them wide, the light around him stuttering and darkness sweeping outwards to replace it as he narrowed his eyes on her. The sense of power he emitted grew stronger, engulfing her, and she trembled as she waited for him to announce her sentence.

“Asteria of the Second Legion,” he said, deep voice shaking the ground and making her quiver as it vibrated through her, “I charge you with the task of hunting a half-breed. You will find her in the fae town near Fort William in Scotland. Capture her and bring her to me. Do not fail me in this.”

Asteria dropped her gaze to her boots, bowing her head, and closed her eyes. “I swear I will not fail you, my lord.”

Because he had given her a second chance, something she had never heard of him doing before, and she would be a fool not to take it.

Redemption wasn’t his style.

As far as she knew, he had never tried it since he had fallen from grace, Heaven’s greatest warrior one moment and the Devil the next. She knew all the stories of her ‘father’, the fallen angel who had birthed her species with his corrupted blood.

“Speak with your commander. He will give you all the information you need.”

She nodded and began backing away towards the doors, trying to move slowly when all she wanted to do was run as far from him as she could get before he changed his mind. Her heart slammed against her chest, a jackhammer intent on breaking free of her ribcage. She neared the doors.

“And Asteria?” he said, his voice a low purr that sent a hot shiver over her skin.

She raised her head, met his red eyes, and wished she hadn’t when they burned into her, dark with desire and intent.

“If you fail… your demise will be slow and painful.”

His wide mouth curved into a wicked smile and pleasure blasted through her, hunger so intense her knees wobbled. Behind him, the females in his bed moaned louder, desperate wild sounds that made her skin crawl even as the same noise wanted to leave her lips. His eyes narrowed, drifted over her, making her burn wherever they lingered, and the tip of his tongue swept over his lips as his gaze met hers again, jacking up the need in her blood as they issued a dark promise.

One he sealed with six innocent-sounding words that struck fear into her soul.

“I will make sure of it.”

He moved through the cobbled street between the squat stone houses that packed the fae town, towering over all of the people who passed him but blending in perfectly. He had mastered the art of it over the past century, learning to dress in the fashion of the era and to keep his head down to avoid drawing too much attention.

The last part was the hardest. As an angel, he had been raised to stand tall and command all those below him with a stern gaze and steady hand suited to his rank, but here in the mortal world he had to do quite the opposite. Even though every creature who occupied the small underground town situated beneath a mountain in the heart of the highlands of Scotland was definitely below him.

Still, he wasn’t here to interact with them. He was here on a mission, steadily closing in on his target, and once this task was concluded, he would be able to return to his duty and Heaven.

It had been a long time since he had set foot in his home, kept away from Echelon Headquarters by his hunt, only able to report his findings through messengers. His comrades believed it vital that he remain in the mortal realm, on hand to detain his target should their paths cross.

He had little love for the mortal world, but his duty had always been here. He had been born to hunt demons and eradicate them, ensuring that all but the stupid ones remained in Hell where they belonged, and were safe from his kin. The fallen angel, Satan, had ensured that by invoking barriers that stripped angels of their powers, rendering them weak in his realm.

This time, it was not a demon on his dance card.

He had been dispatched to locate a female and the fae towns spread across the globe were a perfect hiding place for her, and the perfect place for him to hunt for her, since she had been raised a witch.

His intel, and his orders, said that she wasn’t a witch though. She was a female torn between Heaven and Hell. A product of both realms. She was powerful, but he doubted she knew it, because she didn’t know that she was born of a union between an angel and demon.

A rare half-breed.

It had been two centuries since her mother had fled Heaven and used all of her tricks and powers to conceal herself from the angels hunting for her. When the angels had eventually found her, she had already placed her infant daughter with a witch family and had lost track of her so the angels could interrogate her but would never discover her daughter’s location.

Now, that half-breed believed she was a witch, that her powers came from that blood in her veins, and he had been sent to bring her over to Heaven’s side.

He had been hunting her for close to a century, a mere blip in his lifetime, but one that was beginning to feel like an eternity as it kept him from his home in Heaven.

He felt eyes on him but ignored them as he marched forwards, weaving through the crowded shopping street. Canopies stretched out on both sides, bright jewel coloured canvases decorated with various crests and designs, each unique to the witch running the store. They peddled spells as ridiculous as love potions from the small cramped spaces, allowed their copper stills filled with foul smelling concoctions to stand on the streets and clutter the place, making it even more difficult to move around the town.

His intelligence said the female was here though, somewhere in this busy underground settlement, buried among the several thousand people who occupied it, a mixture of witches, shifters, immortals and fae.

And demons.

The skin on the inside of his right wrist burned and he rubbed it with his left hand, stroking the pad of his thumb across it and feeling the heat of the mark beneath it. He looked down at the stylised black cross on the inside of his wrist and wasn’t surprised to see a faint golden glow emanating from it.

It triggered often when he was in a fae town, warning him of nearby demons.

The burning grew more intense and he stopped and looked at the mark, and then at the creatures moving in colourful streams past him, all going about their business.

Being on the mortal plane had always disturbed him for some reason, but he had never quite figured out why. After speaking with the other Echelon, he had put it down to the mixture of fae, demons and other creatures who mingled with the mortals, and the fact that he rarely crossed paths with his own kind down here. He preferred the company of his own species over the disgusting ensemble of creatures who populated the fae town around him.

The buzzing in his mark faded to a more manageable level, telling him that the demon had moved on. He looked around the street, scanning the faces of everyone present for that of his target, and then moved on, venturing deeper into the town, towards the centre of it.

A clock tower rose ahead of him, high into the cavern, and the sound of music drifted from that direction. He looked around again, noticing for the first time that most of the people in the street were heading in that direction as evening fell in the outside world above them.

It might be a good place to scout for his target.

He followed the flow of foot traffic, mingling with them and pleased with his job of blending. With his wings concealed, and his mortal clothing of thick-soled black leather boots, black jeans and a black t-shirt, he didn’t stand out at all. Many of the Echelon chose to wear robes or their armour when visiting the mortal plane. Nothing drew the eye like a seven-foot-tall male in full regalia with huge white wings.

He had tried explaining the meaning of the word covert to his comrades, and it hadn’t gone down well. Being the youngest at only four hundred and sixty-seven years old, his opinion was often listened to and then immediately discounted.

The thought of having his wings out made the ridges of tissue lining his shoulder blades itch though. It had been too long since he had taken a moment to unleash them and take to the skies. He preened them every night before resting, but it wasn’t the same as flying.

The smell of magic swirled around him, stronger now, and the music grew louder ahead of him, but it didn’t stop a moment of silence from dropping like a shroud over him when the scent of a demon hit him and the mark on his inside right wrist flared hot.

Positively combusted.

Golden light glowed from it and he slapped his hand over it, hiding it as a few heads turned his way, curious gazes drawn by the sudden burst of light.

An urge went through him, dark and dangerous, screaming at him to call his blade.