Demon Spelled Page 2

  Within seconds of disconnecting with Horace, Troz’s vid-feed binged and the image of the witch up for sale bled into a 3D visual.

  Goddamn.

  He combed his fingers through his shoulder-length black hair. Gorgeous for a mortal. Her auburn hair would compliment Lyx’s blazing locks. Green eyes rimmed in a darker shade of emerald contrasted nicely with her hair and fair complexion. Skin tone so flawless it reminded him of the perfection of airbrushed models. Something supernatural was mixed with her DNA because humans weren’t this exquisite in appearance.

  One taste of her blood and I can identify her genetic lineage.

  Even through her baggy attire he surmised she possessed sexy attributes. Not stick-thin which was the current human craze, but curvaceous. Ample breasts, rounded hips, a thicker waist, and long legs. With Lyx’s magic touch, she’d outshine a supermodel in under a day. Best of all, they could ride her without worrying she’d break.

  Truthfully, she could’ve owned the features of a troll and he’d have remained interested because of her genetics.

  I require a closer look.

  Troz’s husband, Lyx, craved a child, had for years, and he fancied giving his spouse his greatest wish. But locating a witch willing to part with her offspring proved damned difficult. This one answered all their needs. She provided them with the possibility of multiple offspring. Because they would own her, her opinions on the matter would hold no relevance in his and Lyx’s desires. She also couldn’t leave Baal without suffering a horrendous death.

  A quick touch to his wristband and he teleported to Horace’s level three realm. Located too close to the human dominion, his skin tingled, and he struggled not to claw the itch of mortality from his flesh.

  The other demon smirked when he spied him. “Knew you would show.”

  Troz despised being predictable. “Where’s the witch.”

  Horace led him down a series of halls and into a shadowy room. “On your knees, spread them wide, and put your hands behind your head.”

  The girl obeyed, going into the submissive pose with little more than a grunt of displeasure. No woman he’d ever met would yield that quickly without a slave-band. He noted the gadget on her wrist.

  She spared him a brief glance, but focused her glower on Horace. Her expression was easy to read, she’d rip the other demon’s heart out at her first opportunity. With her bare hands if possible.

  Troz touched her chin, drawing her attention to him. She was soft beneath his grip, softer than he’d anticipated. Demon women weren’t silky inside or out. What would her pussy feel like? As fragile as her skin? That worried him. Maybe she wouldn’t withstand a demon fucking, and they couldn’t afford a delicate lover.

  Cock growing painfully hard, Troz shifted his stance. Regardless of the various problems of her unpredictable hardiness, he burned to take her. A bigger issue remained…would Lyx find her pleasing? What if his spouse rejected her? Wasn’t attracted to her? Lyx wouldn’t object to Troz keeping her and using her himself, but he wanted a woman they could share. And enjoy together. A female they could crush between them as they fucked her for long, uninterrupted hours.

  Everything about her aroused him. Her bold gaze had his cock feeling like a lead pipe confined beneath his snug dragon-leather pants. His unexpected passion was unusual. Typically, he didn’t burn hot for anyone until after he’d gotten to know the person. Definitely not before his background check verified the demon worthy of his attention.

  His reaction solidified his decision. “I’ll give you twenty-thousand souls for her.”

  Her jaw clenched beneath his touch, and fine lines spider-webbed from the corners of her eyes.

  “I can get that at the auction.”

  “Forty-thousand.”

  Horace beamed a smile. “Sold.”

  Troz tapped out a sequence of numbers on his wristband. “The amount has been transferred to your soul-bank.”

  “It’s a pleasure doing business with you, Troz.” Horace grasped one of her arms and tugged it forward. The slave-band glowed on her wrist, and the demon tapped his wristband against hers. “Your blood will activate your control over her.”

  No emotion showed on her features as a claw emerged from Troz’s fingertip and he jabbed his thumb on the other hand. Blood beaded to the surface, and he smeared the liquid on the slave-band. He watched it evaporate into the gadget, sealing his control over her.

  Wondering what thoughts went through her head he met her gaze, and just to vex Horace said, “I’d have paid more.”

  The demon muttered a series of what sounded like curses beneath his breath.

  Troz placed a hand beneath her armpit and hauled her to her feet. At almost seven feet tall, he dwarfed most individuals, and she came only to his chest.

  “You’ll regret this, you douchebag.” The vehemence in her voice stunned him. No one ever spoke to him in such fashion.

  He tangled his hand in her hair and jerked her head back. His yank was sterner than necessary, but he hoped his roughness reminded her of her delicate position. He stared into her eyes a long moment, holding her gaze as he lowered his head. Their mouths grazed, and she nipped at his lips.

  “Bite me, and I promise I’ll strip you, parade you down the street naked, and then fuck you while my people watch and cheer me on. Still wish to bite me?”

  She bristled beneath his hold.

  “If you know anything about demons you understand we don’t issue idle promises.”

  Troz kissed her, but when she kept her teeth clamped together, he used his thumb on her chin to tug her mouth open. Success! He plunged his tongue between her parted lips, and his temperature ratcheted up another twenty degrees.

  Her breathing went into spontaneous overdrive, and she relaxed against him. Lips like satin on his, she was warm against him, and so unlike the lean, hard demonettes and the male warriors he was accustomed to bedding. Goddamn, but he liked how fragile she felt.

  She will need my protection. No one in his life needed his protection, and he married the idea with delight.

  With his tongue stroking against hers, he twisted her head to a more advantageous angle and deepened the embrace. His cock twitched against his dragon skins, and if not for wanting to share her with Lyx, he’d have taken her to the floor and buried himself inside her. Horace wouldn’t have complained about the show.

  He slid his palm down her spine, across the rounded curve of her ass, and pulled her against him. The hard length of his dick pressed into her belly. A whimper exited her and entered him. Lifting his mouth from hers, he scrutinized her. Her lips were moist from his kiss, and her eyes were cloudy with obvious arousal and confusion.

  Troz swung her into his arms and teleported from the room without a farewell to Horace.

  LYX SHOOK HIS head at his sister, Bryx, and her friend of over eleven hundred years. “You bitches need to get a life.”

  “Says the man with a god for a spouse.” Bryx made a face at him.

  “Seriously,” her friend chimed in. “He is one fine-ass demon.”

  Lyx chuckled. He and Troz claimed lovers outside their relationship and sometimes shared women and men together, but they were picky about those who joined their bed. Together for almost two thousand years, they were committed to abolishing all foreseeable obstacles. His sister’s friend was a complication they couldn’t afford. And his sister would never claim his husband as an intimate liaison either.

  Savoring his cherry tea, he sipped the delectable vintage that cost him a fortune to import from the mortal realm. Most demons enjoyed the finer things in life, and he was no exception. The girls adored being pampered, and he enjoyed flaunting his status and wealth.

  He felt Troz teleport into the room behind him near the entryway.

  “Oh, my!” Bryx bolted to her feet, while her friend’s eyes rounded.

  Keeping his features impassive, Lyx tossed his waist-length hair over his shoulder, rose, and pivoted. The female in his lover’s arms was unexpected.
He sent Troz a quizzical glance before contemplating the woman his spouse placed on her feet. The girl’s gaze darted around the room as if she’d attempt an escape. His empathy confirmed she’d make a fast break for a getaway at the first opportunistic time.

  Lyx scrutinized his other half. “You forget to warn me to expect company?”

  “She’s yours.” Something primal flashed in Troz’s black eyes.

  “Mine?” Surprised by the statement, Lyx aimed to ferret out the rest of the story.

  “She’s gorgeous.” Bryx neared them, fiddled with the woman’s dark red hair and received a slap to her hand for her forwardness. That the creature dared to smack aside the touch of a demon fascinated him. In a demonic realm, it was a gutsy move.

  “I wouldn’t if I were you.” The glare his lover leveled on his sister froze her in a forward step with her arm elevated to deliver a blow to his new woman.

  With Troz’s protective and primitive instincts at the forefront, it told Lyx just how on edge Troz was. And that the girl wasn’t merely his, but more likely theirs.

  “She’d wear stripes down her back for the offense if she were mine.” His sister had all the tact of a rattlesnake. “Allowing a slave liberties is a bad move.”

  “Good thing she’s not yours, Bryx.” Troz’s fingers were loosely wrapped around the girl’s upper arm. Wearing his fuck with me at your own peril expression, Troz remained focused on Lyx’s sibling. “At the risk of sounding rude, Lyx and I require privacy. Feel free to call for another visit next month. Or do the unthinkable and just call before you visit.”

  Bemused by Troz’s testy mood, Lyx bit back a grin, more than a little surprised the new acquisition hadn’t improved his spouse’s disposition. After tossing Bryx and her friend out of their home like street urchins, he guessed their family—at least Lyx’s family—would be demanding answers before the hour ended. Lyx answered to no one, so he’d ignore their bellyaching.

  The moment his visitors departed, Troz said, “She needs a little cleaning up, but she’s a gift for you.”

  “I beg your pardon!” The girl jerked her arm free of his hold. “I took a shower tonight. And I’m no one’s gift!”

  Ignoring their fussy new pet, Lyx crossed his arms over his bare chest. “Why would you give me a flesh-gift, Troz?”

  “She’s a witch.”

  “Fuck. Me.” He looked at her with a different set of eyes. That meant Troz intended for this woman to birth their children.

  “Exactly.”

  “So she’s a gift for us. Hmm….” He twirled a lock of flaming-red hair around a finger. “She does need to be jazzed up a bit. But she’s got great lines, and I think she’ll clean up—”

  “Hold it!” The witch threw her hand into the air with an adorable huff.

  Lyx fought back a grin.

  “Doesn’t matter how many times you say it, I’m not a gift for anyone. For the record, you two could use lessons on rudeness! Speaking of me like I don’t exist. I don’t need jazzing up, and I have a freakin name other than ‘she’ or ‘gift’. It’s Erica, by the way. Feel free to use it.”

  Lyx laughed. “She’s a spitfire.”

  “Yes.” A lopsided grin hit Troz’s lips. “It would seem so.”

  “Should we fuck it out of her?”

  The spitfire gasped and took a step backward. Terror sizzled her psyche and painted the threads of her thoughts with a jagged, static-like quality. Sometimes being an empath was unpleasant, because he couldn’t dismiss the sudden panic searing through her at the topic of being fucked.

  “She’s a virgin.” Troz exhaled a weary sound. “And she’s soft. But she tastes like nirvana.”

  “So…that’s a ‘no’ on the fucking it out of her.” Lyx stepped into her personal space. “At least not yet.”

  “Not ever,” she said between clenched teeth, her hands tightening into fists at her sides, but she conceded to his dominance when she lowered her gaze and looked away.

  Adorable. She thinks she has a choice.

  Before she could back away from him, he captured her with a hand to the back of her neck and one on her low spine. Lyx pulled her snug against him. She slammed her balled hands against his chest and winced. Definitely easily injured if that hurt her.

  The spark in her eyes and the jut of her chin suggested she’d try a different violent tactic. Determined she wouldn’t harm herself further, he grabbed her wrists and held them together with a hand at the base of her spine. As a subtle warning to be good, he dug his taloned fingers into her hair and tilted her head back.

  Making no eye contact, she stared at his chin.

  “She’s not just soft, but short, too.” The idea of sinking into her soft, tight cunt made his imported denims too tight in the crotch. “She’s got my dick hard.”

  “I’m still hard.”

  Lyx looked over her shoulder at his spouse. Yep, beneath Troz’s dragon-leathers was the outline of his erection. Knowing she turned his lover on as much as him…fuck!

  Her fear touched him like a tangible entity, as excruciating as Lindworm-bile decaying his skin. Pride burned through him with the way she tried to brazen her way through this stressful ordeal.

  Our woman is strong. Will make for resilient children.

  Beneath that resolve though, she suffocated with her terror. The man in him who identified her as his—as theirs—overloaded his system with testosterone to protect her. While his demon flooded him with a different need…to brace her against the wall, rip her clothes off, and fuck her until she was too sore to walk.

  Troz’s expression said he suffered the same twofold sentiments.

  I can have a small taste and control myself. Without alerting the hellion to his intention, Lyx lifted her off her feet and settled his mouth over hers. She whimpered as he plundered the recesses, his tongue swiping against hers. He felt her instant arousal and subsequent confusion over her body’s reaction to him, and it’d been the same with Troz. At least that’s what he gleaned while feeding off the kiss and her emotions.

  Salty wetness hit his tongue, and his eyes flashed open. Tears lined her smooth cheeks. He licked away one track and groaned at the delectable vintage of human-witch-and some unnamed parentage. But it wasn’t human, of that he was certain. Her flavor was too spicy for humanity alone. Fuck him, he’d grown painfully hard, the head of his cock throbbed like a motherfucker.

  “Troz.” His lover stepped closer, and Lyx turned her tearstained face toward him. “You think you’re hard now, taste her tears.”

  Holding Lyx’s gaze, Troz flattened his forked tongue along the side of her mouth and licked upward along her cheek to the delicate skin beneath her eyes, collecting all the moisture. His eyelids slid closed, and a sharp inhalation jerked his shoulders. Her response was just as stark, she held her breath altogether. When Troz opened his eyes, the red pupils almost annihilated his black irises.

  “You’re going to lose your shit and terrify her more if you don’t get yourself under control.” Her trepidation raged, and he feared she’d shut down any moment. He didn’t need a fainting woman. Lyx kissed Troz, slow and with purpose. The witch’s shock and passion filtered to him. He parted from his lover’s mouth and ran his knuckles along Troz’s cheek. “Go get sweaty tormenting someone else. That always improves your mood.” Their slave gave a tiny sharp inhale. Just a guess, but he bet that wasn’t something she heard in normal daily conversation. “Or buy something for our newest acquisition to compliment her fiery disposition. While you’re gone, I’ll revamp our pet. When you’re finished, we’ll….” He looked at her. “We’ll decide how to proceed then. I like the name Sanja.”

  “Sanja works for me.” Troz peered at the witch a long moment, his contemplation on how to proceed with her like a blaze against his aura.

  Lyx waited to see his husband’s next move.

  After several seconds, Troz placed a gentle kiss to her temple. If only she knew how hard it was for him to show such restraint, she would’ve appreciat
ed the affection rather than quiver in distress. The kiss he gave Lyx wasn’t so tame, but hard and full of dark desires. “You’ll bathe her?”

  Another sharp gasp emerged from her.

  “Yes.” He could not wait to give her the full Lyx-detail.

  “No clothes. I want her naked when I return.”

  If he didn’t know better, he’d have thought Troz read his mind. “But of course.”

  “Please….” She trembled in his arms. “I saved myself for my husband.”

  Lyx glanced at Troz and his lover took the lead. “We are that for you now.”

  “No,” she whispered, dashing more tears away with her fingertips.

  Knowing any physical attempt to comfort her would be poorly received, Lyx refrained from offering reassurance. “You’ve dreamed of us.”

  Her mouth parted in obvious surprise.

  That fact surprised him as much as her, but he spoke what he received from her thoughts as they came. Lyx went on. “Your mother told you of us.”

  “She didn’t say I’d have demons for a husband.”

  “No. Just that you’d find your destiny when you opened a diabolical doorway. I believe this”—Lyx indicated the room—“would constitute as a diabolical doorway.”

  Inching away from them, she rubbed her temples with her fingertips, her forehead scrunched as if her thoughts hurt. A moment later she nailed him with an unholy scowl. “You’re reading my mind?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “I could, but I’m not.” He preferred to stay out of the heads of his lovers, and she was—or at least would soon be—his lover. Got messy otherwise. “You’re projecting your thoughts, and I cannot ignore them. You’re too powerful.”

  “I’m powerfully upset all right.” Her shaking hands testified to her emotions. “You would be, too, if you’d been kidnapped and sold to—to…creatures that look nothing like you.” She motioned to Troz. “Except for him. He could almost pass for human.”

  Troz’s great-grandmother was a human half witch. Because of his mixed heritage his flesh tone was human-like, but his black eyes and red pupils were anything but mortal-like. The carvings on his body and the silver squiggly marks that ran along one side of his body attested to his predominant demonic legacy.