Текст книги "The demons queen"

Автор книги: Katee Robert

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CHAPTER 5

AZAZEL

“The castle is fucking with her. It has been for days.”

I press my fingers to my eyes and spend a fruitless moment wishing circumstances were anything but what they are. “The castle fucks with everyone.” It’s not, strictly speaking, the truth. I’m not in the mood for the truth. Just like I’m not in the mood to have what promises to be an uncomfortable conversation. “Leave it alone, Ramanu.”

Ramanu saunters over and perches a hip on my desk. “When were you going to tell me that you signed a lifetime contract with her?”

I should feel comfort that Eve is speaking to someone at all, even if that someone isn’t me. Instead, jealousy sinks bloody thorns into me. I want Eve to talk to me the way she used to. I’m truly a fool, because I want the connection we shared to be real. It’s obviously not on her end; it never was. Even if she’d held some small fondness for me, I annihilated the chance of that growing into more when I brought her here. “I’m not in the mood to entertain this conversation.”

“Azazel.” Ramanu’s tone is uncharacteristically serious. “If there’s danger that stretches beyond the human realm, I should be apprised of it.”

I’m not fucking sure it extends past the human realm. Every step I’ve made has ensured that my enemies will find no traction in the other territories here. But mine? There’s plenty of bargainers who would rather go back to the way things were when Caesarea ruled. When we took what we wanted and damned all the rest. When we didn’t share power. “Brosh has graduated from posturing to actual threats. I have it on good authority that he was in New York, and there’s only one reason for him to be there.”

They sigh. “You should have told me. I’m entertaining, and a delightful asshole, but I’m good at my job.”

It’s true. They’re the one who will be checking in on the other humans in the various territories over the next seven years. They’re the only one I trust to hold the other leaders to the same standards I would. “Do you have everything lined up for the Shadow Market?” As much help as it is to have Ramanu here, I can’t keep them from this particular trip.

“Of course. She’ll summon me before the event, without a doubt. She’s so desperate, I can taste it across the realms.”

A witch will be a valued addition to the territory, which is to say nothing of the fact that Ramanu clearly has a soft spot for her. “Just be careful.”

They grin. “Darling, I’m never careful.”

I stand slowly and stretch. I’ve been at my desk for most of the day, and my back feels like it’s compressed into an unfortunate curve. “Try to act against type for once.” Something in my spine pops. “And good luck with your murderous witch.”

Their grin widens. “I don’t need luck. She’s all but mine.” They start to turn away. “It’s been days, Azazel. You should stop avoiding your human. She’s furious and determined enough to try to descend the side of the tower if left to her own devices for too long.”

“I already asked the castle to lead her to dinner tonight. I’ll take care of it.”

Ramanu is still for several long seconds. Finally, they shrug. “It’s your funeral. I’ll let the kitchen staff know to expect a mess.”

“You are such a pain in the ass.”

“Want to fire me?” They laugh. “Oh wait, I’m the best at this job, and part of said job is telling you things you don’t want to—but need to—hear.”

I wave that away. “Go.”

“Consider me gone.” They pause. “I know you’re trying to go easy on her, Azazel, but I think she may surprise you if you’re just honest with her.”

I don’t answer. What is there to say? No amount of honesty will detract from the lies that brought us to this place. My lies. “I’ll talk to her.”

Ramanu snorts. “Good luck.”

I wait a bare five minutes after they leave to make my way to my bedroom. The castle isn’t particularly pleased with me either; it takes me three times as long to reach my destination. I pause outside my door. “I’m working on it. I’m sorry.” There’s no response, but why would there be?

Within an hour, I’m in the formal dining room, staring down at two places set. There’s no reason for my stomach to be tying itself in knots. I’ve dealt with so many stressful meetings with greater potential consequences and never once let something as mundane as nerves affect me.

But the personal stakes have never felt higher.

I hear Eve’s footsteps before I see her, angry heels clicking on the stone floor. Seconds later, she walks through the doorway looking like a fucking dream. She’s wearing a red dress that ties around her neck; the V shows off her generous breasts, making it seem like one wrong move will free them entirely. It’s also short—shorter than anything I’ve seen her wear, barely covering the lower curve of her ass and also showcasing her thick thighs and gently curved calves. Tall heels complete the image.

Her blond hair is loose around her shoulders, styled in waves I want to sink my claws into. Her lips are the same brilliant red as her dress, and her eyes are smokey . . . and furious.

She stops just inside the door and takes me in with a long sweep of her gaze. She crosses to the table and grabs the bottle of wine sitting there. “I was wondering about something. You speak English here. That seems odd.”

Guilt pricks me, but there’s no point in avoiding this. It will just be worse in the end. “We don’t.” When she pauses, I force myself to continue. “While you were unconscious, I put a translation spell on you.”

“Put a translation spell on me.”

I swallow hard. “I tattooed it. It’s on the back of your neck.”

Her eyes flash. “I see.” She pours the wine into her glass, filling it nearly to the brim. “I want to go home.”

“That’s not possible.”

She drains half the glass in a single gulp and refills it. “Then I want to know why. You owe me the truth, don’t you think? You lied and manipulated and had me sign a contract under false pretenses that took me away from my life, my friends, my fucking realm, apparently. The very least you can do is tell me why.”

She’s right. I know she’s right. But telling her the truth is going to make things worse. There’s no other option. I watch her lift the wineglass to her ruby lips. “Slow down.”

“I don’t think I will.”

Guilt pricks me, sharp and condemning. “You have a one-drink rule.”

“That was for clients, a group that you no longer belong to. I think you’ll find that, if I can’t control anything else in my life right now, I can control this.” She holds my gaze as she takes another long drink. It’s from one of the cases we imported from the human realm rather than the faerie wine we brew here in this realm, so at least she’s not falling-down drunk after a single glass. Even so, I have no idea how often Eve drank or what her tolerance is. So much in so little time is worrisome.

“Eve.”

“Answer the fucking question!”

I lower the hand I was lifting to grab the wine bottle. “You’re in danger.”

“Danger.” She sneers. “Do better. More details. I know how well you like to talk, Azazel. So talk.”

“Time moves differently in this realm than it does in yours.” I hold up my hand again, this time to forestall more angry words. “I’m answering your question. This context is necessary.”

She pulls out her chair and sinks into it, crossing one leg over the other. “Get to the point.”

“The point is that I’ve been leader of this territory for five years. My predecessor had a markedly different way of doing things; her priority was to gain humans, which resulted in gaining power for our territory. It didn’t matter how bargains were made, only that they were. I put a stop to that when I took over.”

She lifts an eyebrow. “Until me.”

Guilt stabs deeper, but I muscle past it. “There are those among my people who aren’t happy with the changes. They think I weakened us, that I’m making the other territories strong at the expense of our own. Caesarea is gone, but many of her supporters remain.” I take a breath. “The primary threat is Brosh. He’s always been vocal in his criticism of me, but he’s decided to take action.”

She blinks. “What does that have to do with me?” Before I have a chance to respond, she makes the leap. “It’s because you’ve been one of my clients. A regular. This Brosh decided to get to you through me.”

It feels like I’m being suffocated. Fuck, I didn’t want to tell her like this. I didn’t want to tell her at all. “Yes. The moment I learned he was in New York, I went to you. To protect you.”

“How does the time difference work with—” She shakes her head. “You know what, I don’t care.”

“You’re safe here, Eve. No one gets into this castle without my permission.”

“I wouldn’t need to be safe if you hadn’t been playing human for years with me.” She glares. “Tell him I mean nothing to you. Tell him it was just business and getting your rocks off. Tell him it’s all bullshit.”

I can’t. “It would be a lie.”

“It would be a lie,” she echoes. “Don’t tell me you fell for your own bullshit. Hooker with a heart of gold, right? That’s the fairy tale. That it’s not a job for me, that I really care about you, that I never once faked it. But you were a damned client and that is my job.”

Each word lashes me. “It doesn’t matter if I’m a job to you, Eve. He knows me well enough to know that I care about you, so he’ll hurt you to punish me. No matter what you feel for me—or don’t—you don’t deserve to be hurt.”

She holds my gaze. “Style yourself my savior in your head, but did you stop to wonder if lying to me, taking me away from everything I’ve ever known . . . might hurt me too?”

I knew it would. I chose to do it anyway. “Better you be hurt and alive than hurt and dead.”

She shakes her head and plants her hands on the table, then propels herself to her feet. “You’re lying.”

Now it’s my turn to blink. “Excuse me?”

“It may be true that Brosh wants me dead, but it’s not the full truth, is it?” She drains her wine and sets the glass down on the table. “If you were such a good leader, such a selfless person, then you would have given me a short contract to keep me safe until you had dealt with the situation. Then you would have sent me home.” She stands and moves around the table to lean against it, bare inches from me. “But you didn’t do that, did you?”

I don’t know where to look. Her breasts are so close to my face. The angle of her body makes her dress ride up to truly indecent heights. Her expression is downright dangerous. I push my chair back a little, just to give myself space to think. “Brosh isn’t the only threat, just the most present one. Now that my feelings for you are out in the open, the threats won’t stop coming.”

“Liar.” She kicks my legs wide; I’m shocked enough to let her. Eve steps between my thighs and plants her hands on my chest. “You saw an opportunity and you took it.” She slides her hands down my stomach and hooks the bottom of my shirt, then reverses direction and lifts it. “You wanted me forever, didn’t you?”

Of course I did. How could I not? I jerk my gaze to her furious eyes. “I may have lied to you before, but I won’t in the future. Not again. I promise.”

“Whatever you say.” She leans forward but has to practically crawl into my lap to reach the sensitive spot beneath my ear. “Well, I’m here. Take me.”

I freeze. “Stop that.”

But she doesn’t stop. She straddles my hips, revealing a tiny slice of red fabric covering her pussy. It’s so thin, I can see her slit through it. My cock jumps. I can’t help it. I grab her hips. “Eve.”

“Tell me your safe word, Azazel.” The snap in her voice makes my cock even harder. My sexual tastes are varied, but Eve fits them all. She always has. She grabs my chin and forces me to meet her furious dark eyes. “Now.”

“Apple,” I grit out.

“Do you want to use it, Daddy?” She doesn’t move her body, but her nails prick my skin.

I know what the right answer is. Speak the word and put a stop to her doing this for all the wrong reasons. The problem is that I can’t find the breath to speak at all. I’ve seen her unwound and messy and orgasming, but this feels like the first time I’ve seen all Eve, not the bits she allows through the shield of Ginger.

Eve narrows her eyes and drags her gaze over my features. “If you won’t say it, then answer a question, Daddy: Do you want me to stop?”

It turns out I do have the breath for words. “Why call me that?” I never would have said it’s a particular kink of mine, but on Eve’s lips?

“You have me grounded here. I can’t leave. You control every element of my life now. Who does that if not a Daddy?” She drags her thumb over my bottom lip. “It makes me want to put you in your place the only way I can. And you like it. I can feel that you do.”

I do like it. Entirely too much. I swallow hard. “You’ll hate me.” Each word fights against her grip on my chin.

“I already hate you, Daddy.” She finally moves, rolling her hips to grind herself over my hard cock. The weight of her, the friction against me, not through the shield of a glamor, is nearly enough to have me coming right here and now. But as soon as she starts, she stops. “So be it.” She starts to rise.

I tighten my grip on her hips and slam her back down onto me. “I don’t want you to stop. Even if you hate me.”

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CHAPTER 6

EVE

Iknow this is a mistake, but I don’t care. I’ve spent days wandering the halls of this cursed castle, my frustration and fury growing with each turn that leads me nowhere but to another endless hall until I’m finally deposited back at my bedroom.

If I had better control, I would come up with some kind of brilliant plan to seduce my way to freedom. I know what Azazel likes—at least what he’s shown me so far. But right now, looking up at his ruggedly handsome face, crimson skin blushing darker with lust, eyes gone obsidian when I called him Daddy . . .

It’s hard to think of anything at all.

Instead of fighting it, I allow myself to fall. I’ve done nothing but think for days. I’m exhausted, frustrated, and heartsore. I thought my days of using sex as a way to purge messy emotions were over, that those more dangerous impulses were carefully caged, but apparently some scars run too deep. When faced with a situation I have no hope of controlling, I slide right back into being that girl who held her aching heart outside her chest, who took a razor blade to it before anyone else had a chance to, just to know that no one else could hurt her worse than she hurt herself.

“Eve.”

“No.” I dig my nails into Azazel’s square jaw. He’s so fucking big in this form. He was already significantly taller than me, but now he has feet over my five foot five inches and his body is built like the strongmen who toss around boulders and trees for prestige. I swallow hard. “I don’t want to hear you say a single thing unless it’s your safe word.” A word we negotiated before my first night with him. It’s a required step for all my clients, even if we’re not engaging in kink. A little fail-safe for my peace of mind—and theirs.

I don’t really care if Azazel has peace of mind right now, but no matter how close my fury flirts with hatred, there are lines that should never be crossed. I won’t respect a single word out of his mouth . . . except that one.

His hands bracket my hips, the strength there enough to make my skin prickle, but he doesn’t attempt to control or maneuver me as I grind down on his cock. His truly, world-endingly huge cock. Historically, I’ve scoffed at the idea that anyone would be too large to fit, but I truly don’t know how he will without ripping me in half.

Good thing I’m in the mood for pain.

I cling to his shoulders, using my thighs to maintain my place, and nip his earlobe. It shouldn’t be so sexy, but there are a lot of things about this that shouldn’t be so sexy. I release his jaw and grip his horn, earning a muffled curse. “You want to play Daddy and take care of me, Azazel?” I lick the shell of a delicately pointed ear. “Then take care of me.”

He doesn’t hesitate. One moment, I’m doing my best to straddle his stomach. The next, he bands his forearm under my ass and uses his free hand to sweep both place settings from the table. The bottle crashes to the stone, sending up the strong scent of wine. A loss, but I’m too busy being laid out on the table as if I’m the feast to worry about it. The glass and a half that I drank makes my body fizzle, but I’m nowhere near drunk. That would be too easy.

Azazel plants a hand next to my hip, towering over me for all that he’s bent nearly in half. I never thought I’d be one to have a size kink—or a hate-sex kink—but I can’t deny the way my pussy pulses in response.

My dress is tangled around my waist, exposing my thong. He makes a sound deliriously close to a true growl and rips it off. It’s such a smooth move that my hips don’t even jerk. With one last look at my face, he goes to his knees.

On his knees and with me sitting on the table, we’re nearly the same height. He yanks down my dress and palms my breasts, but there’s no savoring the movement the way there has been historically. The fury that drives me . . . Well, I can’t tell if it’s present in him or not, only that he’s intense in way that leaves no room for softness.

Good. I want none.

He plants one giant hand on my chest and pushes me down onto my back. Then he dips down and . . . Holy shit, he hooks my thighs over his horns, spreading them wide and exposing me fully.

I open my mouth to command him to do . . . something. Something that will put me back in control. Something that will make me feel less vulnerable.

I never get that chance. He covers my pussy with his mouth and kisses me with a frenzy that makes my eyes roll back in my head. I writhe on instinct, not sure if I’m trying to get away from the slick slide of his long tongue or arch closer. Azazel doesn’t allow me to decide. He palms my ass, lifting my hips even as his horns press my thighs wider.

He thrusts his tongue into my pussy; it’s nearly as thick and long as a cock but able to curl against my G-spot. I cry out, my words garbled with need. “MorePleaseDon’tstop!” I don’t know how he understands me, but he does.

He doesn’t stop. He keeps working me with his tongue as pressure builds, pulling my body tighter and tighter. I reach out wildly and my hands find his horns, then hold on with everything they have. And then I’m coming, the orgasm hitting me with the strength of a rogue wave, unexpected and violent.

Azazel eases his tongue out of me but doesn’t move away. He kisses my pussy as if he can’t get enough the taste, as if he never wants to stop. He nuzzles one thigh and then the other, nipping me lightly in the way I like sometimes, before moving back to roll the flat of his tongue against my clit.

This was a mistake.

I can’t find the breath to say so, to tell him to stop. That’s why I grip his horns tighter, why I arch closer. Not because I want to. Not because I know what comes next, how he can go for hours, alternating his attention so that I’m never quite overstimulated to the point of commanding him to stop instead of begging for more.

My second orgasm seems to build on the first. And then the third adds even more. And on and on, until I’m wrung out and limp, my hands falling to the table as I blink up at the stone ceiling.

“This was a mistake,” I rasp.

He moves back instantly. Azazel carefully disentangles my legs from his horns and stands. He cups my face, his gentleness unwanted, and yet . . . I close my eyes and lean against his palm. Just a little.

The moment I realize what I’ve done, I try to retreat. Azazel is already moving, scooping me into his arms. I’ve never felt so small in my life, and if there’s a part of me that wants to nuzzle up to him, it’s only the post-orgasm haze confusing my senses. “Put me down.”

He ignores me, walking out of the room and through the halls with what feels like dizzying speed. Or maybe it just feels that way, since spare moments later he’s shouldering open the familiar door to my bedroom.

I expect—dread, hope for—him to enter the room, lay me on the bed, and continue what we started. Instead, he sets me on my feet and holds my shoulders until he’s sure I’m steady.

I wish I were as sure. My body feels like it belongs to someone else, limbs loose and heart pounding. I look up at him, and if there’s any consolation to how shaken I am, it’s that Azazel appears equally so. His chest rises and falls with harsh breathing, and his cock is a long line against his pants.

I swallow. “You⁠—”

He cups my cheek again, something in his eyes that I can’t quite define. “Hate me if you must, Eve. Punish me all you like. I can take it.” He kisses me, the lightest brush of his lips against mine, and then takes one large step away and then another. “Have dinner with me tomorrow.”

I can’t corral my racing thoughts enough to think. “Stay.” I blink up at him as if he summoned the word against my will. Surely I didn’t just expose myself in this horribly vulnerable way.

He doesn’t close the distance, doesn’t stop his retreat. “Not tonight, Eve. Not like this.” Then he goes, shutting the door softly behind him.

Leaving me alone.

I hate how my heart drops in my chest. I hate how it feels like he’s rejecting me when I’m the one who set the tone for the night. I especially hate how it feels like I set out to punish him but only ended up punishing myself.

Seconds tick by, my body cooling even though my heart rate isn’t returning to anywhere close to normal. He could have fucked me until dawn, and I wouldn’t have done anything but beg him for more.

And through it all, he didn’t disobey me once. He didn’t speak. He didn’t push. He simply gave, paying penance with his mouth despite our mutual desire for more.

It doesn’t make sense for his restraint to make me even angrier. It’s not fair—I can recognize that—but I’m not in the mood to be fair. Not anytime in this century.

I march into the bathroom and wrench on the shower. Because of course they have indoor plumbing in the fucking demon realm, and I loathe that I’m grateful for it. I yank off my rumpled dress and step beneath the blistering spray. I press my hands to the tiled wall and duck my head, letting the water cascade over me, blocking out the rest of the world. All of it does little to reset my mind and emotions.

This accomplished nothing. Pleasure usually unwinds me, but I’m more tense than when I marched to dinner, ready to fight. I sigh and shut off the water. I don’t know what I’m more pissed about. That Azazel just made me come until my body went limp . . . or that he walked away. It shouldn’t matter. I hate him for what he’s done; wanting him to choose me is a fool’s game. Unfortunately, that lost little girl inside me, the one who was always passed over, time and time again, is a ghost I can never quite vanquish. It hurts to be left. Far more than it should.

An enticing scent reaches me as I towel off. My heart picks up. “Azazel?” There’s no answer. Why would there be? He left, and I know it’s not fair to blame him for it, but again, I’m not in the mood to be fair right now.

Back in my bedroom, I find a covered tray sitting on the desk. A peek shows a steaming-hot dinner. No wine, which makes my lips quirk despite myself. “You are such an overbearing asshole.” My smile fades away. I don’t know what to do. I don’t see a way out of this.

Worst of all, lust still coats my skin, demanding more, more, more.

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