Текст книги "The demons queen"

Автор книги: Katee Robert

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CHAPTER 9

EVE

Ican’t sleep.

It’s not the bruise, which still radiates a faint ache through my ribs with each breath, that keeps me awake; that’s healing faster than I could have imagined. I don’t know what magic is in the balm Azazel used, but it works and works well.

It’s not that Ramanu unquestionably killed a person right in front of me. For reasons unknown, that doesn’t shift my perspective of them at all. Maybe because I don’t have a tangled mass of conflicting emotions in my chest when I think of Ramanu. I believe we could be friends, given some time, but I have no desire for more than that with them.

With Azazel?

He killed someone too. Someone who was trying to take me. He came running the moment there was trouble, without hesitation. More than that . . . I glare up at my ceiling. This may not be the route I would have chosen, but Azazel is a king. He has so many more lives to worry about than just mine. He could have let his enemy take me. It would have been easy. A preventable death, but it would have closed any weakness for Brosh to exploit.

But he didn’t. He saved me. He keeps saving me.

I roll over for the hundredth time, but no matter how comfortable my bed is, I can’t escape the thoughts lingering in the back of my mind. I should hate Azazel. I do hate him. He’s protecting me from danger that his presence created. But the danger is true enough. I don’t want to die.

I’m no stranger to stalking or even violence. I wish it were otherwise, but even before I started my work as an escort, there were a string of bad relationships with both men and women. Looking for love in all the wrong places. Or, rather, I was looking for love, and the people I fell for were looking for someone who was less of a partner and more of a possession. After my last girlfriend slit my tires over a harmless text, I swore off dating entirely. Then I met Pope and started my work. I’m too busy to date now, too uninterested in all the bullshit that comes with filtering out potential prospects who would have a problem with what I do.

And if I sometimes develop fondness and desire for my clients? If sometimes I let myself fall into the fantasy that they love me too, that they’re choosing me above all others? Well, that’s my problem, not theirs.

I’m spiraling, I know I’m spiraling, but I don’t know how to stop it. There’s no Pope to call to talk through the mess in my head. I know what they would say about my unease with Azazel: Use what you’ve got. He obviously cares about my well-being, even if he’s going about it in a shitty, over the top way. I could use that . . .

God, I’m so tired.

I open my eyes and stare at the city lights dancing over my ceiling with the movement of my sheer curtain in the faint breeze. It’s all too much. This situation. The violence I witnessed today. The future. All of it.

I don’t make the decision to get out of bed and pull on a short robe. I certainly don’t choose to open the door and step into the hallway. The lights are lower than normal, a nod to the late hour.

“I don’t know how to do this.” I reach out and gingerly press my fingertips to the stone wall. It’s cool and pleasing against my skin. “I . . .” I take a deep breath. “I would like to go to Azazel . . . please.”

Nothing happens as far as I can tell, but even with Ramanu and Azazel, I never see the castle move. It’s one of those strange phenomena where I look away and when I look back, things have changed. With that in mind, I start walking.

This may be all for naught. Or I may change my mind the moment I come up against the reality of how impulsive I’m being. I pick up my pace, as if speed has ever been enough to outrun my thoughts.

Since I’ve been here, I’ve tried to leave my room multiple times, and each attempt has been met with frustration. I just walk and walk and walk, and right when I’m at the point of breaking, the damned castle deposits me back in front of my door.

Not so tonight.

The first turn ends in a short hall with a large door. I stop abruptly and narrow my eyes. “Is this a trick?” There’s no answer, but why would there be? This castle has no voice. I never found that truly tragic until this moment. I look around and clear my throat. “Uh, thank you. I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful.”

There’s nothing to do but knock on the door and hope for the best. The wood is more textured than I expect at first glance, rough against my knuckles.

Seconds later, the door opens to reveal Azazel. It’s late enough that he’s traded in his customary tunic and pants for some type of short skirt garment that wraps around his hips and leaves most of his legs bare. His thighs are huge. Ruinous, even. I’ve never wanted to bite thighs the way I suddenly ache to in this moment.

He frowns. “Eve. Is something wrong?”

“Everything’s wrong.” The words are stark and filled with enough honesty to drown us both. “I can’t think, can’t sleep. Today was . . .”

“A lot. I know. I’m sorry. I would spare you the memories if I could.” He takes a step back, a clear invitation to enter.

Coming to him at all was a terrible idea. I knew it the moment I got out of bed. Sometimes, that’s all there is: bad and worse. Staying in my own room and being suffocated by my racing thoughts was worse than whatever this is.

You know what this is.

I guess I do. The moment Azazel shuts the door, I shrug out of my robe. I’m not wearing anything underneath.

His shocked inhale is almost—almost—enough to make me look at him.

“Eve?”

“I can’t think anymore.” It’s suddenly all too much. I close my eyes. “I know this is fucked on so many levels, Azazel. I shouldn’t be here.”

There’s no sound to indicate movement, but when he speaks, his voice comes from in front of me. “Are you doing this to help or to hurt?”

I shrug helplessly. “Both?”

His strained chuckle tugs at something in my chest. I don’t want to understand him. I don’t want to recognize that he’s just as out of his depth right now as I am. I certainly don’t want to admit that maybe he’s making the best of a shitty situation. “Is it me you want to hurt . . . or yourself?”

“Both,” I whisper.

“It’s a bad idea.” He’s closer. I swear I can feel the heat coming off his body now. “Every time I touch you, you resent me more.”

If only that were true. If only I hadn’t spent every night since that scene in the dining room fingering myself to the memory of him. Not his human version, for all that the sex was outstanding. No, when I slip my hand between my thighs, it’s horns, obsidian eyes, and a too-long wicked tongue I’m remembering.

I open my eyes to find him a few measly inches from me. It would be so easy to push this, to take control like I did last time. But . . . I’m tired. Scared. Shaky in a way I don’t know how to combat. “Touch me.” I suck in a harsh breath. “Please.”

As he reaches out to cup my face in his giant hands, I make my peace with the truth—in the morning, it won’t be him that I resent. It will be myself. For being weak in my desire. For wanting the person who’s responsible for upending my life.

That’s a problem for tomorrow.

Right now, Azazel lowers his mouth to mine, kissing me so sweetly, I might weep from the longing that springs to life in my chest. To be a different woman, with different fault lines. To be able to accept this and stop fighting. To do . . . a lot of things.

I break the kiss. “I can’t do soft. I⁠—”

He bands an arm under my ass and lifts me until our faces are even. “If at any point you want to stop, say ‘stop’ and it ends. Do you understand?”

“Yes?”

This time, when he kisses me, it’s just short of violent. I moan into his mouth and enter the battle of teeth and tongues. Yes, this—this is what I need. He walks us across the room, and it seems to take forever, but I’m not curious enough to stop kissing him. Especially when he finally lays me down on his absurdly soft bed and moves back to kneel between my spread thighs, then undo his loincloth and toss it to the side.

The size difference really is absurd. The tallest person I’ve ever been with is six-five, and Azazel has a good seven inches on them at least, even without counting the horns. But he’s not gangly like a basketball player; he’s built thick and muscular, and holy fuck, his cock is huge. No, huge isn’t the right word. Did I say his thighs were ruinous? What a joke. His cock is the very definition of the word.

Even with the flicker of fear that curls through me, I can’t stop myself from reaching out and dragging a single finger up, up, up his absurd length. “You’re going to kill me with this.”

He huffs out a strained laugh. “Baby girl, I’ve seen your toys. You can handle it.”

I jolt, but I can’t begin to say if it’s from the pet name or the reminder that he has, in fact, seen me take a toy nearly this size. I’d completely forgotten about that, a little long-distance session we had a few years back. He’d purchased the toy for me, and I sent him a video of me using it.

I stroke his cock again, tracing one particularly prominent vein. Aside from sheer size, he’s a familiar enough shape—give or take some delightful ridges—and he’s got a wicked curve that makes my pussy pulse. “Any surprises here?”

“Not in the way you mean.” He drinks me in with his gaze and then shakes his head sharply. “But I’m forgetting something.” Azazel shoves off the bed and stalks naked to a cabinet against the wall. It’s impossible to take my attention from him, the long lines of muscles in his back, his round ass, the flex of his thighs and calves as he walks. Gods, he’s powerful to the point of beauty.

He returns, ridged cock a promise I am eager to fulfill, and dangles a pendant necklace before me. “This will ensure you don’t get pregnant.”

I blink. “I have an IUD.”

“I’m aware.” He doesn’t move. “But I don’t have evidence that science will hold up in our realm with magic in play, so we will be doubly sure that you’re protected.”

Warmth threatens to bloom in my chest. “You could just wear a condom.” He always has before with me—one of my nonnegotiable rules for clients.

“I could,” he agrees easily. His attention drops to my pussy. “But I want to fill you up, baby girl.” He leans down and plants a hand next to my hip, his rugged face intense. “Don’t you want Daddy to make a mess of you?”

I can’t breathe. My mouth works, but it takes several tries before I can dredge up an actual response. “You know I only call you Daddy to piss you off.”

“I know.” He grins suddenly. “But I’ve decided I like it.”

I like it too. A lot. I’m stuck here for who knows how long, so it’s not as if my situation can get more complicated. The logic is as flimsy as a butterfly’s wings, but I don’t care. “How does the pendant work?”

He presses it into my palm. “A single drop of blood will key it to you. As long as you’re wearing it, it will prevent pregnancy with no side effects.”

No side effects sounds kind of nice. I nibble my bottom lip. I came to him for frenzy, but it’s hard to hold this kind of thing against him. Captor or not, he’s taking care of me in his own way.

I am dangerously close to softening for him.

To avoid thinking about that, I drape the pendant around my neck and take his hand. I press a single finger to one of his claws. The bright bloom of blood against my skin makes us both draw in a harsh breath.

“The center,” he murmurs, holding the pendant so I can smear my blood there. “A few drops of blood now and on the first day of your cycle.”

I shiver and lift my gaze to his. “I’m ready, Daddy. Make a mess of me.”

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CHAPTER 10

AZAZEL

Iknow better than to accept what Eve offers me. She was almost taken from me today. She’s only here because she’s traumatized from the events of the day even though her life hasn’t been exempt from violence. If Brosh’s people had escaped with her, she wouldn’t have survived the night.

The thought has me pressing her back onto my bed and running my hand down the center of her body. The bruise on her ribs is already fading; it will be gone by morning. It’s the only evidence of what happened earlier, and yet I can’t stop myself from touching her wide hips, her thick thighs, sure that there’s some other injury I haven’t catalogued yet. “They tried to take you from me.”

Her eyes flash. “I’m not yours for someone to take.”

If only that were true. If only I’d had enough self-control to stay away from this woman who intrigued me from the moment her sorrow drew me to her. Bargainers have a nose for people who may be receptive to a deal. Years ago, roughly six months before she met Pope and everything changed for her, Eve was one of those people.

If I’d properly approached her then, if I’d offered her a contract . . .

“You’re mine now, Eve.” I palm her pussy, soft and sweet and already wet for me. “You have been since long before you signed my contract.”

She hisses out a breath that makes her breasts bounce. “It’s in your best interest to stop talking and fuck me.” She grabs my wrist and holds my hand to her heat. Some of the venom slips out of her tone. “Please, Azazel. I can’t fight with you about this right now.”

Is this harm? I’m not entirely sure, and that should be answer enough. I know what I would tell another bargainer in this situation, but I can’t seem to take my own advice. I’ve compromised my ethics again and again when it comes to Eve. Why not now as well?

I can make her feel good. I can make her forget, at least for a little while. She came to me for this. I won’t turn her away. I’ll give her exactly what she wants, even if it damns us both.

So I stop thinking. I lean down over her and kiss her roughly. Eve tastes like she always has. Like home. If I ever had to define what that means, I don’t know if I could put it into words. Maybe it’s better that I don’t.

She rises to meet me instantly, every bit of fight going into the slide of her tongue against mine, into the sharp pain of her teeth against my lower lip. She believes I’ve spent years lying to her, but the only untruth I’ve told is related to being human. All the rest was naked honesty. This is honest.

I drag my mouth over her jaw and down her throat. Her breasts are pure artistry, round and perfect and peaked with rosy nipples. I lavish one with a kiss while cupping them together and allowing my thumb claw to form so I can drag it along the lower curve of the other.

Eve whimpers. “Yes, Daddy. More.”

Daddy.

If she ever fully comprehends what that name does for me when she moans it . . . Well, best not to think about that too closely. I would love to spend hours teasing her until she’s shaking and desperate, but she won’t tolerate that right now. She needs fast and hard and rough, to settle her in her skin.

I understand. It’s what I need too.

Even so, I have no desire to hurt her, and if we move too fast, that’s exactly what will happen. Pain has its place, but only so much of it. The balm can heal a lot, but I want her to enjoy this.

Any excuse to taste her again. Every time with Eve may be my last time; I’m too greedy for every detail, every sensation. I kiss my way down her rounded stomach, nibbling at the curve in a way that makes her squeak. I press my face to the apex of her thighs and inhale deeply. “I can’t get enough of you.”

“I . . .” She shudders out a breath as I push her thighs wide. “I don’t know if I like you talking so much.”

I use my thumbs to part her folds and flick her clit with my tongue. “Want me to stop?”

“I want you to hurry up.” She reaches down to grab my horns, and it’s my turn to shudder. They’re not particularly sensitive, but there’s something about the way she wrenches my face closer to her, demanding pleasure, that sends a shiver down my spine and makes my cock so hard, it’s a wonder I don’t come on the spot.

She’s already dripping for me. I inhale again, making us both wait a beat before I cover her with my mouth and kiss her pussy just the way she likes. Eve makes a mewling noise that I’ll hear in my dreams for the rest of my life. “Oh, fuck.”

Just as her thighs tighten on either side of my head, she jerks my horns with each shiver and shake. I push one finger into her. My hands are bigger in my true form. Everything is bigger in my true form. I have to get her ready for me. I need to . . .

“Azazel.” Her heels dig into my back. “Daddy, please. I don’t want to wait anymore.” She jerks on my horns again. “Fuck me.”

I press my forehead to her lower stomach. “I’m going to hurt you.”

“Then hurt me,” she moans. “I can take it.”

I wedge a second finger into her. It’s a tight fit, her pussy pulsing around me. “Eve⁠—”

“Then let me be on top.”

I pump my fingers slowly into her, stretching her even as she soaks me to the wrist. “You came to me.”

“And now I want to come on you.” She gasps. “Azazel, please. That feels so good.”

I want the same thing she wants. I can’t pretend I don’t. “You’ll go slow,” I murmur against her heated flesh. “Promise me.”

“I promise, Daddy.”

After one last long lick, I shift us around so that I’m on my back on the bed and she’s straddling my hips. Her color is high, pink splayed across her chest. Her nipples are still glistening from my mouth. Her pussy . . .

Eve wraps her hand around my cock as best she can and shivers. “I can’t wait to have you inside me.” She shifts forward so my cock is pinned between us, rubbing herself along my length. Wet and hot and gods.

I grab her hips. “If you don’t stop doing that, I’m going to come too fast.”

“That’s never been an issue before.” She doesn’t stop. Of course she doesn’t. My woman has more than a little bit of a sadistic streak. Instead, she grinds down harder and draws her finger through the pre-come I can’t contain. “Is this all for me?”

“I have a lot more for you,” I grit out.

“Good.” She has to arrange herself in a squat to rise enough to press the head of my cock to her entrance. I maintain my hold on her as she wiggles, working her way down over the head of my cock. “Damn,” Eve breathes.

“Slow.”

“Fuck off.” She laughs, the sound ragged and almost mean. It makes my balls draw up. She’s never been mean to me before. Not when I was a client. I hadn’t realized how much I’d like it. It feels honest in a way I don’t know how to describe. Eve rolls her hips, working her way down my length in fits and starts.

The urge to slam her down to the hilt is nearly overwhelming, but I’m too busy trying not to orgasm before she has a chance to take me all the way. Letting her be on top was a mistake. She’s too sexy, panting and whimpering as she works to take me. Her belly shakes with each jerk of her hips, and I want to grab her, bite her, mark her as mine in any way she’ll allow. It feels like frenzy, but I’m tense and still.

Seeing my cock spread her pussy, stretch her, get slick with her need . . .

I should close my eyes, but I can’t tear my gaze away. “You’re so fucking beautiful, baby girl.”

“I know.” She doesn’t quite pull off her smirk, because her eyes are rolling back in her head. One last roll of her hips, and we’re sealed together. I press a hand to her stomach, to squeeze her there, and she whimpers. “Fuck, that feels so good, Daddy. You’re so big.”

“You take me so well,” I murmur. I stroke her clit lightly with my thumb. “You’re close.”

“Yes,” she moans. She tilts her head back, exposing the long line of her neck, and starts to ride me.

“I can tell. Now be a good girl and make yourself come on my cock.”

Each slow roll of her hips has pleasure building. She’s a fucking vision, sweat slicking her skin, her expression dreamy as she chases her own orgasm. As she uses me to do it. It’s degrading in the best way possible. I’m a tool for my queen, and fuck if it doesn’t get me off knowing that she came to me when she was in need.

No matter what else is true for the two of us, Eve trusts me on some level. We can build something from that foundation, no matter how thoroughly I’ve fucked up handling this process.

The first flutters start, and then she’s crying out, grinding down hard as she orgasms. “Azazel.” My name on her lips is barely more than a whisper, but it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.

I can’t hold out any longer. I dig my heels into the bed and thrust up into her. I’m not so far gone as to be rough with her, but I’m not as gentle as I want to be. I grip her hips and bounce her on my cock, again and again, and then I’m coming in great spurts, filling her and then overfilling her, my seed sliding down her thighs and all over my lap.

I sit up and pull her close. Eve shivers in my arms, her eyes still closed. “Fuck, Daddy, I think you broke me.”

“You did so well,” I murmur against her temple while I stroke her spine. “You were perfect.” I’m still half-hard inside her, but she can’t take me again. She needs something else right now.

I reach over without looking and dig through my nightstand until I come up with the balm I keep there. It’s good for a number of uses—like healing the bruise on her ribs—but it was created a very long time ago by a witch who took one of my people for a lover. The size difference can be a boon, but she wasn’t a fan of the soreness that prevented her from having her lover as often as she craved.

Eve winces as I ease her off my cock. Her eyes flutter open. “Fuck, maybe you really did break me.”

“I’ll make it better.” I lay her down on my bed and take a moment to soak in every detail. The way her skin glistens. Her pussy, a complete mess from my cock. Best of all, her relaxed expression. None of the tension that rode her so strongly remains in evidence.

I mean to keep it that way.

She frowns a little when I kneel between her thighs. “I don’t think I can take anymore. I’m going to be feeling you for a week.”

“Trust me.” I dip a single finger into the balm, coating it fully, and then press it into her.

She winces again, but the healing takes hold almost immediately. Eve’s frown eases, and she shakes her head slowly. “Oh. That’s good. That’s really good.”

“I think you’ve got one more in you, baby girl. I mean to have it.”

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