Wicked Game (18 page)

For quick access he shredded the silk with his claws. It was a shame; despite her initial apprehension about the negligee is was pretty and had made her feel quite erotic. She didn’t complain though as he tore the bra away and latched onto a swollen nipple, sucking and licking, stimulating it. It hardened in his mouth, goosebumps dancing across her flesh, and then he focused on the other one, still fondling the first breast, careful not to cut her with his claws. She savoured his every caress as he slid a hand down her stomach to rest between her legs. She hitched in a hot breath, feeling her sex spasm, eager for the main event.

Kaden didn’t disappoint. He stripped quickly, his member already engorged and ready for action. He loomed over her, so tall, so powerful, so male; a hand on either side of her pelvis, his quivering manhood teasing her slick entrance. She bit her lip, tasting blood, feeling so wild, her hair dishevelled, her breasts shining with the sweat of arousal, her body burning for more.

“
Are you sure about this?” his voice was husky, with a hint of growl from restraining. His eyes glittered fully black, like a predator that had its prey exactly where it wanted it.

She nodded and bit her bloody lip as he plunged into her, with no hesitation, no mercy, giving her no time to regret it. He had been right, when he
'd told her she wouldn’t need any lubrication. He slipped into her with no resistance, his organ splitting her virtue with a sharp pinch, making her cry out in mingled pain and pleasure. She clung to him as he retreated and then thrust into her again, her nails biting into his hot, tawny flesh as he growled. He used her pelvis to lift her closer to him and kissed her ardently as he moved inside of her, pumping in and out with superb, head spinning stamina. She kissed him back, her lips trembling against his, lost to bliss and she had to bite a pillow as she climaxed so the neighbours wouldn’t come and investigate her screams. She came three times more before he did, finally finding his release, withdrawing from her gently and cradling her to his chest.

“
Was it worth the wait?” he whispered in her ear. He hadn’t even broken into a sweat while she had been a panting, screaming, writhing ball of ecstasy. She shivered every now and again, with the after-tremors of pleasure beyond any she had ever known before, and would probably ever know again.

She couldn’t bring herself to answer him, tears in her eyes as she realised that this was the last time he would hold her like this, the last time he would hold her at all. She had thought it would be easier to let go now but after…after…
that
…she didn’t ever want to let him go again.

“
Did it hurt?” he asked, sounding uncomfortable, as if he wasn’t used to caring that he had caused a human pain. Was he realising too that this would be the last time they shared a bed? Did it bother him at all? Sadden him? She didn’t know if it was in the nature of a demon to feel regret. She didn’t regret it herself, not at all, but she regretted the consequences of giving in to her lust.

“
A little,” she admitted quietly, unable to meet his eyes. She didn’t want him to see the tears, to see how weak she truly was, to see how much he affected her.

“
Hazelle…”

“
Don’t,” she implored, “Please...just don’t.”

They snuggled in silence for a while; Hazelle’s rapidly cooling body pressed against his smouldering skin. She shivered, though this time not from anticipation or pleasure. For a moment she’d been able to forget what she had done, and what she was now. When Kaden was gone, when she was alone again, she wouldn’t have anything to distract her from the dark thoughts that plagued her night and day, wreaking havoc on her conscience.

“Hazelle. Look at me. Please.”

She shook her head, tell-tale tears dripping down her cheeks and onto his chest. He didn’t chastise her for them, or mock her human weakness. Instead he placed two fingers under her chin and slowly lifted her head until her eyes met his. They were dark, solemn, and for the first time since trespassing in his mind she saw herself the way he saw her, reflected in his glassy black eyes.

“I will miss you,” he whispered, and there was something of sincerity in his deep voice. He almost made her believe him. In all the memories she had seen of him, with all the women he had been with, never once had she heard him utter those words.

“
I will miss you too.”

And then she closed her eyes and turned away, knowing it would be the last time she ever saw his face.

Chapter Eleven

Hazelle knew she was dreaming because Kaden was still with her.

He was bathed in sunlight streaming through her window, smiling at her, one of those subtle, seductive, secretive smiles he’d favoured when she
'd first summoned him, but then he leant forwards and kissed her so sweetly that she could literally feel her heart melting, surrendering to him. She longed for him to take her into his arms, to make passionate love to her right then, right there, wishing she could spend eternity with him. None of these things happened, instead he lifted his hand, a silk blindfold dangling from it, the same pale pink as the ruined negligee she still wore in reality. She gave him a strange look, puzzled.

“
Trust me,” he murmured, and in his eyes she saw the sensuous spark she had seen during sex.

She nodded and stepped forwards, letting him cover her eyes with the cloth. It was soft against her skin,
completely blinding her, leaving her vulnerable and having to depend on him. There was a time when she wouldn’t have trusted him that much. He could do anything to her and she wouldn’t have any idea until it was too late.

He tied the blindfold at the back of her head, not too tight, and then took her hand, tugging on it gently.

“Where are we going?” she asked curiously.

“
You’ll love it,” he told her enthusiastically and she could sense the smile in his voice, “I promise.”

She went willingly with him, and then a moment later she could hear birds singing, feel a breeze tousling her hair, smell the pleasant scents of strawberries and honeysuckle, sunlight warming her skin. She lifted her head to it, smiling. It was strange to know that she was stood in light when all she could see was darkness. Despite that she felt oddly content and at peace here.

Hazelle reached up to untie the blindfold but Kaden gripped her wrists suddenly, drawing her hands back down.

“
Ah. Not just yet.”

She scowled at him, keen to know why he had brought her here, how he could make the instantaneous leap from her bedroom to such a serene, sunlit sanctuary. He was such an enigma, a compelling one, and she longed to see him in the sunlight again, to see it shimmer in his russet hair and shine on his bronze skin, to see herself reflected in his black eyes. Why was it so important to him for her not to see?

She could feel his warm breath fanning her face, and she knew that if she stood on her tiptoes her lips would brush his in a chaste kiss. As it was the kiss he gave her was anything but chaste. He kissed her wildly, exploring her mouth with his tongue, nibbling on her lip with sharp teeth and kissing her as if he would never kiss her again. She realised, with a sad thought, that in reality he wouldn’t.

The kiss changed. It was blisteringly hot one moment and bitterly cold the next, ice clinging to her eyelashes, creeping down her throat and freezing her heart, bringing with it the foul taste of something rancid, something
rotten
. Kaden’s kisses usually tasted of honey and sunlight. They were always slow and sensuous, sometimes slightly more demanding, though never as forceful as this. He bit her lip, making it bleed. Terrified, she tore the blindfold from her eyes. 

Chris smirked at her evilly, his lips dry and crinkled, peeling and turning brown, beginning to rot before her very eyes. He was dressed in an expensive suit, the type that people were buried in, and it was stained with earth, clots of mud clinging to the jacket, streaking the pale pink silk tie, caked under his fingernails and smeared across his face as it twisted with malice. She coughed and spat, trying to rid the taste of death from her mouth, wishing she could force herself to vomit. All she could do was gag as he leant in for another kiss and she shoved him away. He stank, his body decomposing second by second, p
allid flesh turning mottled grey then black with decay, his deformed body sloughing it.

“
You’re dead!” she hissed, “Dead!”

“
And whose fault is that?” he rasped with another malicious grin, exposing teeth that were now black stumps. A few more fell out as she shoved him away again.

“
This isn’t real. I’m dreaming, I’m dreaming…”

She turned and ran, only now realising where she was. She was in a graveyard, the same one Chris was buried in, passing the older plots and weathered gravestones as the sunlight began to wane, dark clouds rolling in from all directions, heavy, furious, black. It began to rain. Cold water splashed on her hot skin as purple lightning streaked across the sky and thunder resonated around her, waking the dead.

She fled from evil, from death, from her stalker. She thought she had rid herself of him for good while inadvertently murdering him. It seemed she had only made him stronger, more determined to have her, death or no death. Wind howled through her hair, rain pouring down on her, pounding her skin, her bottom lip smarting from his bite. The birds were long gone. The earth was moving beneath her, bony hands reaching out from old graves, snatching at her ankles. She kicked at them, shrieking, screaming for Kaden to save her.

But Kaden didn’t come. Kaden was gone. 

A skeletal hand caught her arm, squeezing it tight. Chris had captured her. There was nothing left of the Chris she remembered. His rotting corpse had shed its clothes and skin, a black, bony skeleton leering at her, endlessly empty eyeholes dragging her down to drown in the darkness of death. She clung on to life, to reality, to Kaden. Except Kaden was gone, he had abandoned her to fight this evil alone.

“
You can’t run from me,” croaked the corpse, somehow able talk without a tongue.

It pushed her against the marble statue of a weeping angel. Its head was bowed solemnly, hands
pressed together as it cried bloody tears that dripped onto Hazelle. The skeleton scratched her, ripping the negligee, staining it with her blood.

“
Close your eyes and make a wish.”

Hazelle did as she was told, too afraid to do anything else. When she opened her eyes again it wasn’t Chris’s skeletal face grinning back at her. She was back in her bedroom, back in reality, sunlight glowing around her bed and keeping the darkness at bay. The dream haunted her, and she could still taste fetid flesh in her mouth as she tensed, sensing someone in the bed beside her.

It couldn’t be…

Chris was dead. He couldn’t hurt her anymore…

But as she sat up slightly and peered nervously over her shoulder she saw that is wasn’t Chris’s corpse come to claim her.

It was Kaden.

*~*~*

Hazelle didn’t shower and change for work. Instead she rang in sick, blaming a stomach bug, and then sat in her favourite wicker chair, watching the demon in her bed sleep soundlessly, undisturbed, almost like the dead. That thought sent an unsettling flitter through her but this was the first time she had seen him sleep so peacefully, and he looked so innocent, unassuming, exhausted after hours of pleasuring her, though satisfied nonetheless. There was a soft, serene expression on his face and his hair was falling
adorably across one eye. She resisted the urge to reach out and sweep it away, instead contemplating their new dilemma, trying not to imagine how angry he would be when he awoke to find he was still there.

How was that possible? He
'd told her that sex was the only way to get rid of him, to send him back to hell where he belonged. The only way to complete the pact was to freely, willingly have sex with him and last night she had done just that. She was a little sore, a little in awe of him, he had taken her innocence, taken her to heaven and back in one night. So why was he still there, asleep in her bed, like any ordinary human man?

She wanted answers, though she didn’t want to risk waking him and incurring his wrath so early in the morning. She made a cup of coffee and nibbled on some toast smeared with jam. She was going to have honey for a change, until she remembered how Kaden’s sweet kisses in the dream had quickly turned sour with Chris’s unannounced arrival. Every time she closed her eyes she could see Chris’s rancid, rotting face shedding its skin, she could smell his putrid breath and feel his bony black fingers scratching her skin. Before Kaden she’d believed dreams were only dreams, manifestations of her deepest desires and darkest fears but now she knew better than that, and this dream told her one thing.

Chris isn't at peace.

Hazelle
heard a roar of fury from upstairs, a tidal wave of rage sweeping through the house, wincing when it was followed by the sound of cracking glass. Carefully putting down the empty mug she brushed crumbs from her chest and walked upstairs resignedly, not knowing quite how Kaden would react. She knew he had a temper when provoked, and had seen him furious before, but this was on another level.

As she
stepped into her bedroom the first thing she noticed was speckles of blood on the cream carpet, freshly shed, the trail leading to Kaden and her mirror. Spider web like cracks distorted her pale, frightened reflection, the glass smeared with Kaden’s blood. Kaden was slouched on the bed, staring unseeingly at his bleeding hand, the knuckles torn and raw. She rushed to him, tried to take his hand to examine the wound. He jerked away from her.

“
It will heal,” he muttered dispassionately.

“
It looks nasty…”

“
It will heal,” he repeated, refusing to meet her gaze.

Unsure of what to do and not wanting to leave him alone she sat on the bed beside him. He was still naked, but for once he wasn’t the least bit excited. His skin seemed pallid, almost unhealth
y, and all of his swagger, all of his natural charm was gone. Here Kaden was, stripped back bare for her to see, and he wouldn’t let her touch him, wouldn’t even look at her.

“
Did I do something wrong?” she asked quietly. Maybe she hadn’t been good enough, maybe she hadn’t given him enough of her energy to transport him home.

He gave a deep, disdainful laugh.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. You were…it was…fine.”

Hazelle knew that wasn’t what he was about to say. She knew demons were one for diversionary tactics,
though she wasn’t going to push the point and risk him turning his anger on her. She wanted to apologise, to tell him that she was sorry he was still stuck here, with her. Yet couldn’t find the words.

“
You told me it was the only way,” she said meekly, trying not to make it sound like she was blaming him, accusing him of being deceitful.

“
It always has been before. I have never been on the human plane with a single woman for this long, though I doubt that has little to do with it. There has to be something else. Something different. Something we both missed.”

She considered telling him about the dream. That would mean admitting to him what Chris had once been to her, and what she had done to him. She had become a lot braver and more daring recently, but she didn’t have the courage to tell a demon she had cast the same spell on him that had killed someone else.

Kaden stood up suddenly, standing before the mirror, glaring harshly at his disfigured reflection. She could see his eyes, darker than she had ever seen them before, filled with a silent, deadly fury that made her skin prickle with self-awareness, the primal urge to run coming to her as her heart quickened and the muscles in her legs tingled.

Despite her instincts
screaming at her she didn’t run, instead she stood beside him, gazing at their reflections in the mirror. She was so small compared to his huge, muscular frame, so delicate and weak and easily dominated. For the first time she could fully appreciate how different they were, how different they would always be. It had been a stupid wish to want Kaden for herself, to keep him with her always, a childish dream, a foolish fantasy, and yet he was still here, by her side, and the wish could last a little longer.

“
We could try it again,” she suggested awkwardly, wanting to touch him, to reassure him. She didn’t dare to.

“
No…not right now. For once sex isn’t the answer.” He sounded surprised. “I don’t know what is. There has to be something else…”

She nodded forlornly, feeling rejected, and looked back at their reflections in the mirror, sunlight radiating around them in a golden halo, making him look so beautiful, almost like an angel. But she knew he was
no angel. There was colour in his skin again though his eyes were still endlessly dark and bitter. She remembered seeing eyes like them, in the dream, before Chris’s eyes had dissolved into nothing, leaving gaping black holes that festered with loathing and desire for revenge.

She looked back into Kaden’s black eyes, wondering when they would burn with hatred for her too.

*~*~*

Kaden always left the house at dawn and usually didn’t return till after midnight. He didn’t tell her where he was going, what he was doing, or when he would be back, nor did he sleep in the same bed as her anymore or try and lure her into his.

Frustrated, lonely and despondent, Hazelle spent most of her time outside work hours surfing the internet, more dedicated than ever before, researching the myths and legends of incubi and sucubi, the race that Kaden belonged to. Most cultures throughout history had some sort of folklore revolving around demons that drained the life-force from the living, whether it be vampires drinking blood or ghouls from beyond the grave seeking revenge. She shuddered at that thought, thinking demons were already enough to deal with without having to worry about ghosts and goblins.               According to legend incubi were specifically summoned for sex, and once the requirements of the spell had been fulfilled they returned from whence they came, often leaving the woman or witch fully satisfied, sometimes leaving her dead. Hazelle hoped that however Kaden left her she didn’t become a cautionary tale for other foolish girls who believed they could invoke the black arts and not pay the price.