The COMPLETE Witching Pen Series, Boxed Set (74 page)

A quick glance around told her the other three men lay unmoving – knocked out. Perfect.

She dived forward and licked the side of her prey’s face. He was all salt and fear. The fear was particularly intoxicating, and …
yes
… that sugary sweet taste of human pheromones lingered lightly on her tongue. It brought a fresh flood of warmth between her legs. “Do you know what I’m going to do to you?”

“Please no, please no, please no, please no…”

“How many times have those words been said to you, I wonder.”

He made some kind of strange, strangled noise, his mouth trembling as he tried to hold it all together.

She reached behind her and grabbed his dick, still huge and stiff – not surprising since she was now rubbing her own special brand of pheromones right into his skin through her touch.

Still, he must have been surprised at his arousal, because his face suddenly collapsed and he burst into tears, blubbering like a baby. “Oh, God … please no … go soft, go soft, go soft, go soft…”

Flippin’ heck, was he praying to his penis now? Only this guy could give it that much power. His simpering cowardice was almost enough to put her off – I mean, why eat junk food when you could have caviar, right? But she was damn near faint from starving, so junk food it would have to be.

“I’m going to wrap myself around you and squeeze you ‘til you’re ready to burst, and then I’ll make you beg for release – and you
will
beg for it. The last thought you have will be of how, in the inescapable web of pleasure, you pleaded for death.”

Sliding down him, she stopped at the tip of his cock, then rubbed her sex over it and against it.

He groaned and cried and even snotted.

Ugh.

At least she knew he wouldn’t be able to piss himself.

“Now, I believe you were going to ‘show me what you had for me’. Isn’t that what you said?”

“No, no, no…” He shook his head from side to side, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Don’t worry. You’ll enjoy it. It’ll be the best orgasm you’ve ever experienced, and ever will again since it’ll be your last.”

More snot.

She wanted to stop talking and get on with it, but the fact was the more scared he got, the more fulfilled she’d be.

“Usually, I’d want to make this last as long as possible, because the longer it lasts, the more filling the meal, but I’m too far gone for that kind of patience. Sorry. This is gonna be a quickie.”

She slammed herself down on him, consuming his full length.

His eyes practically popped out of their sockets as he bucked in both ecstasy and horror, and
what
a fucking, awesome hit!

Her own head fell back, and she moaned in delight as she managed to latch onto a part of his soul. She could feel it right there – vulnerable, exposed. She reeled it into the murky depths of her shadow self; rocked him into her, ferociously, back and forth, back and forth, every movement taking more of him into her.

She could feel his scream close to erupting, but it was her who screamed, and it was a scream of rage at the meal suddenly ripped from her grasp.

One minute she was feeding and the next she was flying through the air across the building site, just like the other men had a few minutes ago.

She gathered herself mid-air, landed on her feet and spun around, growling, ready to fight for her food.

The food that was gone.

“No!”

“Yeah – he’s totally gone. Nowhere that pleasant, I promise, but I needed to get him away from you.”

The familiar, annoying voice was muffled against the pounding fury threatening to burst through her veins, but it was clear enough so that Elena stirred within the demon.

She turned to face the voice. “
You!
What have you
done
?”

All that mass of red hair struck another chord with the witch. Elena focused harder, trying to see through the demon’s eyes; trying to reach the break in the shadows…
Katarra?
 

“Duh. I’ve just saved you from making the biggest mistake of your life, and you can thank me later.” She gave her an infuriating smile.

The Shanka demon jumped at her.

Katarra effortlessly flung her back again and she landed hard on her rear and then rolled to break her fall. Whatever powers the apocalypse had diminished among the demon races, the Brujii queen had clearly been unaffected.

“
You
can’t take my magic, okay? So don’t try.
Elena
, on the other hand, can take me blindfolded and gagged, so why don’t you let her out?”

The succubus smirked. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you? The witch blindfolded and gagged. Tell me, in your dreams is she tied to the bed, too, while you fuck her? I know what you came here for – you came here for
this
.” With her right hand, she raked a nail sharply down the side of her forearm. Blood seeped through her cracked, grey skin, and Katarra’s eyes gleamed a brighter yellow at the sight and the scent.

But the queen held her ground; her features hardened with determination. “I came here to find Elena, so find Elena I will.” Mirroring her actions, Katarra tore a gash into her own forearm with one of her sharp canines.

Elena felt the succubus’ surprise at the power of the magic in the Brujii’s blood. In all the time Katarra had been with their group, not once had she bled in front of Elena. The magic in the blood coated her, them, their surroundings – everything – and its potency called to the witch in her so strongly, she couldn’t have held back if she’d tried.

Elena surfaced, the succubus too stunned to put up much of a struggle. But even so, she couldn’t deny the still-present hunger that gnawed at her guts. It was so prevalent and the first thing she noticed as she regained her own body. She was so weak. “Katarra…”

The Brujii’s demeanour suddenly softened. She went quiet, staring at Elena. “Hi,” she finally managed.

God, she felt faint … and hot – feverish. “She’s … I’m … we’re both so hungry. I can’t control it.”

“I know. I can see that.” Katarra offered a small smile and closed the gap between them. “But if you feed your own magic, it’ll help. It won’t fulfil the succubus in the same way, but it’ll be enough to fulfil the witch, so you can keep the hunger under wraps for a bit longer.”

Her mouth watered. Her whole being growled like the giant, starving stomach it was, and threatened to turn inside out.

Katarra held up her arm, the blood sliding down her bronzed skin looking like raspberry sauce on caramel; the magic radiating from it, thrumming like the sweetest choir. Her next three words were sweeter. “Drink from me.”

Elena lunged.

Chapter Twelve

Lucifer rolled his shoulders, trying to ease some of the tension that had gathered there at his little ‘mission’, which was proving to be not so little after all. Karl Warden was nowhere to be found. Even his scent seemed to have disappeared from the planet.

Although, it was Katherine’s scent that permeated him at this moment.

By God.
That
had been delectable.

He licked his lips at the memory of her dark surrender. In the end, her pleasure had been so great she hadn’t been conscious by the time he’d finished with her. Instead, he had left her now-young-again, sleeping body lying on the bed, dark hair spread out upon her pillow.

Fuck, he could still
taste
her.

He shoved his hand into his trousers and rearranged his stiffening anatomy to a more comfortable position, not worrying about discretion. There was no one here anyway. The streets of Wimbledon were just as deserted as anywhere else – except maybe Los Angeles. Go figure. The City of Angels was thriving, and Satan was right there in its centre partying it up.

Obnoxious son-of-a-bitch.

He reached behind him, placed his hand against the small of his back, and materialised yet another apple. He took satisfaction in both the crunch of the bite and the way the fruit disintegrated in his mouth, still juicy, the smallest amount of cyanide within the pips enough to flood his veins with the awareness he so craved. The hit took him both out of himself and into himself simultaneously, a strange game of disconnection and attachment taking place in which he became a part of every single molecule that made up the universe. In that single moment, he knew everything there ever was to know about anything.

Yeah. It was pretty far out.

But it only lasted a couple of seconds at the most and then it was gone, all knowledge forgotten, all clarity unreachable once more, until the next apple found its way into his hand. Those two seconds though… they fed him in a way nothing else could.

He had said to Katherine that he’d known what she was addicted to. It was because he was also an addict; he’d just chosen a different toxin.

Frowning, Lucifer found himself back at the beginning: standing directly outside the house in Wimbledon. He’d been here earlier on, but Karl hadn’t been. Now, he caught a scent on the wind – the half-angel’s scent, yes – finally – but … he smelled … different.
Familiar.
He couldn’t put his finger on it, but it made his stomach curl and the long-absent feeling of fear – so absent, it must have been a few thousand years since he’d harboured it – reared its head. Only a sliver, but enough to unnerve him.

Without announcing himself, he passed through the wall beside the locked front door.

The garden.

He walked towards it, found the kitchen door open and lo and behold: there he was.

The son of Gwain sat on the grass at the exact spot the sacrifice had taken place.

Lucifer cleared his throat, sensing this would not be a good time to approach in silence. “There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I’m surprised you’re not with your soul-bonded.”

No movement. Nothing.

He stared at the back of his blond head, and took a couple of steps back – maybe getting too close wasn’t such a good idea. Then he chastised himself. When had he become such a fucking pussy? “She had a bit of bother tonight. Could have done with your support.”

Silence.

He should transfigure right in front of him; right onto his lap and make him jump – any reaction would ease the nerves racking his body. He resisted the urge to grab another apple, although the hit would be sweet right now. “Gwain left you a sword. I’m to teach you how to u—
yaaagaaaaah
.”

Too fast for him to see, the angel had disappeared, only to reappear facing him and holding said sword extended from his body, its deadly tip millimetres away from his throat. “Teach me, will you, Lucifer?”

He fought to regain his composure. “My mistake.”

“It certainly is. Not your first.”

“Meaning?”

The angel smiled a smile that was devoid of all warmth, yet a faint golden glow began to radiate from his body. He was either taking great pleasure at holding the sword to his throat, or preparing to lob his bloody head off. “Tell me, when you betrayed God, did you later laugh behind his back as you took angel after angel with you?”

Lucifer glanced at the blade of the sword warily.

“Is it a hard question to answer with this weapon by your throat? I hear this sword never misses its mark; that it cuts more cleanly than any other. Not immune to a beheading, are you? You know, I believe some humans throughout history have a tendency to behead those that mutiny.”

“And yet,” he gulped, “they are still not as vicious as some Gods.”

That earned him a laugh.

The blade pressed into his throat, drawing blood, and Lucifer wasted not a moment longer. He threw himself backwards, summoning the one ability he had that no other angel had – the one aspect of himself he hated above all others, because it reminded him of how weak he had been when he’d fallen. How he had fought to re-find himself since that day, finally realising neverlasting moments of sanctuary within the pip of an apple – the seed of all things…

He transformed into a snake.

The moment his muscled body hit the ground he sped away on his belly, the early darkness and the cover of the grass his only allies, as they had been that first day of his ‘betrayal’: his penance for crossing The Boundary.

He knew that scent now. Being in this humiliating form he thought he’d conquered, for the first time in millennia, he could taste the smells of the earth and the air tenfold.

He heard Karl laugh louder behind him. “Disgraced, Lucifer! That’s all you’ll ever be… Disgraced.”

~*~

“My Lord!” called Michael, striding into the belly of the cavern he had made theirs. “It’s time to leave. I got word this morning while I was out hunting: the Malattal have all disbanded now. They have done so to spread their final prophecies. Demon tribes are disappearing. They’re saying the apocalypse is…”

What the hell…?

The clothes adorned by God lay in the centre of a cluster of rocks where he slept, God himself, nowhere in sight. He never left this cave – never.

“My Lord?”

No reply. Nothing sounded. Nothing stirred.

Michael approached the clothes, wishing the deep sense of betrayal which had taken root in his gut wasn’t there … and he was angry. It was like no anger he’d ever felt. After all he had done, after everything he had sacrificed…

A fading, golden glow surrounded the pile of cotton and leather on the ground. God didn’t glow – only angels glowed, and all angels had their own signature.

He picked up an item – trousers – brought it up to his face and sniffed. It was a trail.

His eyes widened as understanding seeped into his mind. No, it wasn’t an understanding – it was a fucking catastrophic epiphany.

Chapter Thirteen

Elena awoke to candle light, and the sound of a blade being sharpened.

She froze, keeping as still as possible, unsure of her surroundings or why she was here.

She braved a glance down and noted that her skin was almost back to normal – human once more; no grey, no cracks – and that’s when the events of the night flooded her system.

Oh … my…