Claimed by the Demon Knight: Book One
Claimed by the Demon Knight: Book One
By Cryptic Fawn
Copyright 2014 Cryptic Fawn
Smashwords Edition
One
T
he war between Heaven and Hell was finally over. Heaven had won. Beelzebub, the King of Hell, had been defeated by a young human witch, who was now under tight security by the archangels for the rest of eternity. His knights, the warriors that had made up Hell’s glorious army, had been decimated. Plenty of mortal witches and archangels had perished in the final battle, but the knights had been wiped out completely from existence.
Except for one.
Tenuxhal was not new to fighting for survival. It’s something all demons, dark souls cast into Hell to pay for whatever horrible sins they had committed as humans, had to suffer through. And as a knight, trained under the Beelzebub himself, he learned quickly that it was either fight and win or be eaten by your comrades as punishment for failing.
The eight foot tall demon walked along a matte black corridor, the heels of his boots clicking on the smooth floor. For the past several months, he had made this entire citadel his home; empty of it’s previous owners he now had it all to himself. None of the other demons dared to come near, which suited him just fine.
His long white claws scratched the wall to his right as he made his way towards the main entrance of a large citadel, leaving tiny etchings on the walls surface in his wake. Inside, the air is scentless and still. Outside the large building, there is no wind. Ever. The landscape is barren, with only alabaster sand and patches of withered trees to be seen in all directions. A sourceless light illuminates the land, painting a vastly different picture of Hell than what billions of mortals have imagined for eons. Instead of searing heat, the temperature is like a cold autumn afternoon.
Tenuxhal had not dared venture too far from the sanctuary of the Black Citadel, even months after the last battle had taken place. Even though it’s former master is gone, unlikely to ever return, the Citadel kept the younger, weaker demons at bay. However, once outside the walls, Tenuxhal can not count on its history for safety. Out there, where there are no other walls, where there are no rules, he could become someone else’s prey.
Fat chance of that. He was no weakling, and just the slight worry of being consumed by another demon pissed him off. Tenuxhal had earned his right to be called a knight, and it hadn’t been by being a coward. Regardless, his one-track mind has locked onto the one mortal he had longed to rip in half. The mortal that had nearly killed him, and captured his King.
Elsi Rhoads, the Witch. Like all witches, mortal human women, she had joined in the fight against an army of Hell and fought alongside the archangels. It was the Living world’s and Heaven’s last chance to stop the chaotic army from entering the world of the living and consuming everything in their path. Without the help of the witches, Heaven would have failed. Without Elsi, Beelzebub surely would not have fallen.
How the human wench defeated such a powerful being still confused Tenuxhal, even though he had seen it with his own eyes. The bright blue light that nearly blinded him, the staff that had stabbed the King, and the archangels that showed up only once the hard work had been done... It pissed him off how all their plans had gone to shit, all thanks to a mortal bitch.
If only he had killed her when he first met her, months ago, back in the mortal realm... It was a fucking joke. Twice now she had defeated him, and twice now she let him live. He never asked for her fucking pity. The thought of snapping her little neck and tearing her skin off got him hot and bothered. He could feel the black blood that ran through his veins begin to heat up, the start of blood lust forcing his mind to focus on his one and only objective.
With a snarl at the thought, Tenuxhal adjusted his black vest like jacket, checking the straps that held his Claymore to his hip before opening a large black circular hole in the air in front of him with the swish of a hand.
His minds eye honed in on the last mental image he had of Elsi Roads before stepping into the black portal; the glowing blue form, hazel eyes that looked down at him as if he were just a mere roach that deserved to be stepped on. Well, never again would Tenuxhal allow that to happen. Oh no, he was going to make certain the witch kept her promise and pays for the humiliation she made him go through.
With her life.
~~~
E
lsi Rhoads could not have known how fast her weekend plans were going to turn from the promise of ease and relaxation to complete and total shit; even if it slapped her across the face with a 2x4.
A swirly outline of disorganized brunette hair jutted out from beneath the edges of a light layering of sheets as Elsi finally began to stir. Her pale face buried deeply into her body pillow as her body, currently in the fetal position, wrapped around the pillow. Her light summer blanket had already been kicked down to the bottom of the bed in danger of falling completely off the edge.
Her five foot six inch, 150 pound tanned frame stretched, back, legs and feet pointing towards one end of her bed as her shoulders slumped forwards towards the other. After holding that position for a few seconds she went completely limp, muscles no longer tight and uncomfortable.
Dark lashes fluttered and slowly parted, revealing an unfocused pair of dull hazel eyes, which once cleaned of sleep, would look refreshed after a restful night. She laid as her vision cleared, and breathed in deeply, her body and mind filled with a sense of unity.
There was nowhere she needed to be today and she had nothing exciting to do, aside from her morning routine of breakfast and yoga in front of the living room T.V., a routine that she had been doing for the past three years.
Except for Elsi, it seemed that everybody had left town. Her mother, younger sisters and friend of the family, Mason, had departed already for a weekend getaway three hours away from Boulder. She’d been invited to go, but Elsi really just wanted some alone time. Her mother. Emma, had even paid for Mason’s room. He was practically like a member of her own family. Her mother was always inviting him over for dinner. Elsi enjoyed having him though. He was a really nice guy and he didn't have a family like she did. But she suspected her mother had ulterior motives.
Emma had been trying to set the two them up since they were both in middle school. However, Elsi never felt that romantic spark for Mason, and she wasn’t entirely sure if Mason felt anything for her either. If he has, he never told her. As far was Elsi is concerned, they’re both just two great childhood friends that happen to belong to opposite genders. Who also happen to go around obliterating demons that cross over into the human world every now and again. Mason was rather shy, so perhaps he was just waiting for her to make the first move.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” Mason, a young white male that dresses what many refer to as a “hipster," had asked the night before the family trip. He and Elsi had been at the back of her home, sitting outside on the patio. The night air was cool, the humidity higher than what she prefers.
Elsi has been busy with college, and with trying to regain her witch powers that had weakened considerably since the end of the war. Time alone, with no one else around, is something she’s been looking forward too. Mason did seem disappointed, but she figured he’d survive not being attached to her hip for a few days. She just wished he went and dated other girls instead of waiting for her to finally cave in. In a way, it made Elsi feel like she was leading him on without even doing it on purpose, and it was starting to really bother her.
Except for Samantha, her seven-year-old short haired Calico cat, she was entirely alone, and the weekend was all hers. She had plans for it too. She wasn’t the kind of young adult who would sit in front of the T.V. for hours on end, or fidget from boredom. No way, that wasn’t like her at all.
Elsi Rhoads did things, sometimes dull, boring things that needed doing, like her dirty clothing that was piled up into a giant hill in the furthest corner of her bedroom. She had been avoiding it for two weeks, and she hated doing any kind of cleaning while either her mother or sisters were in the house. But now that all three were gone, she didn’t really have much of an excuse not to do it anymore.
Besides, she was running out of clean dresses to wear.
The weather reports had declared two full days of sunshine and warm temperatures, but considering that it’s Colorado, that was nothing neither new nor unique. However, it had rained quite a bit the past few days, and it was starting to get obnoxious. Sure, rain was absolutely necessary for life. It was part of the balance of things. But it poured as if the heavens had been ripped right open the first four days, it was making her hair frizzy and she was already sick of it.
It was fair to say that Elsi, only 22, had been pelted by more than her fair share of trials. But without it she wouldn't be the young woman she was today. The seemingly endless string of bloody battles she'd endured as a witch had served to push her to her limits, and sometimes beyond.
"Retreat and you will regret it for the rest of your life. Hesitate and you will die." That was what Olivia, the golden archangel that masked her true form in human form had told her once. So that's what she tried to do. The few times she'd actually dwelt upon defeat, people had noticed and quickly straightened her out. And they weren't at all kind about it either, much to Elsi's annoyance. During one crisis, Mason had joined them at Olivia’s Coffee shop, to come up with a plan. Elsi had had her ass handed to her in a fight the day before. She'd been quiet, brooding, depressed, and frankly sulking like a child who'd had her toy taken away.
Olivia had hid a grin behind her long blonde fringe and waved a hand over her dark brown, freckled nose, declaring that 'now that she'd come to notice it, the Cafe just reeked from all of Elsi's moping.' Elsi had lost it at that. In the end, they had been right though, and they had helped her through it. But still... that smarmy bitch had a real way of pushing Elsi's buttons.
Elsi brushed aside her stray thoughts that wandered like windup toys with no clear direction or destination. She arched her back again as she sat up and extended herself fully into a deep and slow stretch, her smooth, rounded belly poking out from under her night shirt.
Her mind blanked, as something else, a basic need, growing more insistent, urged her to reach down into her PJ’s, fingertips skimming down along the warm skin of her lower belly and downwards to the heat pooling between her legs, where slick wetness greeted her. The root cause of it was a dream. Images, no faces, just moans and touches.
Oh yes, lots of touches.
Elsi did things, sometimes dull, boring things, like putting on makeup before leaving the house, and some of them decidedly private. Fortunately, there wasn’t another soul in the house, so she could be as loud as she wanted, and not worry about anyone walking in on her.
Perfect.
~~~
W
hat a fucking joke.
Tenuxhal stood silently between two worlds, clothed in the mundane material, loathing the association it held, what it represented, but comfortable enough in the feel of it, and it’s casually revealing design. Couldn't deny that it suited him. Hell, he made it look good.
On top he wore a black vest with elbow length sleeves that sometimes rolled down, much to his annoyance. On his crimson colored torso were three belts, each with a large silver pendant directly in the middle that held up his trousers. On the left side of his waist hung a seven foot long silver Claymore, the handle strapped into the lowest belt, just big enough for him to hold in one hand. His legs were encased in knee high black boots with short heels, six straps and silver buckles on each, trousers tucked into them at the bend of his knees.
He hadn't worn the uniform in a while. At least now he could choose to wear it, or not. Some days he didn't, just strolled around the old Black Citadel, naked as the day he was born... re-born. He didn't give a flying fuck. And the fates, bitches, having turned out the way they did, meant he was alone with himself most of the time anyway. Except when he stalked his prey and devoured them.
Even for a demon he was rather imposing to look at. Blood colored skin stretched over thick muscles, thick enough to reduce the need for any kind of metal armor, had a matte like coat. A set of large steer horns protruded from his temples up and outwards with ears nine inches long pointed backwards to frame the sides of his head. His long, straight white hair was slicked back and tied off into a braid near the middle of his back, ending in a curl just behind his waist. All ten fingers had long, white cat like claws endowed upon them, as did his feet, though his boots covered those.