Demon Spelled (12 page)

“I have work to do. Lyx, you’re free today, yes?” Troz seemed unfazed when all she wanted to do was go to her knees and beg for relief. But of course he was calm, he’d climaxed all over her, while she ached for more. He’d commanded her not to come, and she bet that’d mean she couldn’t even get herself off if she tried.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Lyx nod at Troz’s question, but she could only gape at Troz. What type of monster got her this close and then left her hanging this way? It seemed so cruel. Felt brutal. But which would she have preferred? Sexual frustration or a spanking?

“I’ll watch over our girl,” Lyx murmured.

Troz didn’t even look at her as he turned and strode toward the door.

“You’re seriously going to leave me hurting like this?” Could she sound any whinier? Especially after she claimed she didn’t want them. Now she was upset because he took what he wanted and gave her nothing in return? It’s what she’d asked for.

“I can, and I am,” Troz shot back as he departed the room without a backward glance.

Lyx offered her his hand. “I’ll show you around your new home.”

This is not home
.

“I should go clean myself off first.” Troz’s seed leaked from her body, staining her thighs with sticky blueness.

“No.” He laced his fingers with hers and pulled her closer. “His cum will be a reminder of your disobedience.”

The stickiness between her legs was the least of her concerns. When she squeezed her thighs together, instead of alleviating her arousal it heightened her need to climax. “Others will see how messy I am.” That would be mortifying, too. But seriously could that be worse than the cook watching while Troz ‘punished’ her? Nah…she didn’t think so.

She glanced at the servant and realized the woman continued to work without observing them. Maybe she hadn’t gotten much of an eyeful. She swallowed hard and looked quickly away.

Lyx tossed his red hair over his shoulder. “Then they’ll know Troz was the last one who used you.” He hadn’t really used her in the technical sense, just finger-banged her and put his seed in her after Lyx got him off. “Come.”

I wish I could come
!
Such injustice
! Erica didn’t wish to desire either of them, and damn sure not their lopsided way of life. She wanted to be free, to have a voice, and to be treated as an equal. Why’d she enjoy the sex, and why did her body respond to them? No way could dreams spawn this type of reaction to them. Could they?

Jesus Christ, I’m so confused!

Lyx smiled.

The motherfucker is jacking my thoughts again.
Would she ever get used to that? Learn how to shut him out?

Fine lines crinkled from the corners of his eyes as his grin grew bigger. Without comment, he guided her out of the kitchen.

TROZ WAITED UNTIL
he hit the hallway and rounded the curve into another passage before he halted and leaned against the wall. He released a long, unsteady breath and pinched the bridge of his nose hard. He hadn’t wanted to leave Sanja hanging, and he couldn’t remember a time he’d ever felt torn about anyone’s punishment. He ran his palm down his face and attempted to regulate his breathing. Pulling off his aloof demeanor in front of her had been damned difficult, almost next to impossible. Not looking at her had been the only plausible way to maintain his composure.

Some of his former lovers had gotten off on being deprived pleasure. The pain of denial was as powerful as the release, if not more so, than the actual climax…at least that’s what others claimed. He held no personal experience. He’d never entered their skin the way he had Sanja’s last night or Lyx’s in the past. Feeling everything of others was reserved for special situations because it created an intimacy he held no desire to share with many.

Sanja’s expression indicated she’d been devastated and confused by his refusal to bring her to orgasm. With her breasts and cheeks flushed, she’d seemed far more aroused than any prior lover he’d disciplined. Of course her genetic makeup was different. Maybe witches or angels experienced denial more acutely. Her human DNA could be part of the problem.

She wasn’t just a mere lover, either. She was his concubine, and in Baal that was as close as he could get without calling her his wife. A spouse claimed equality and a higher level of respect from the citizens. Even with the differences, there was a fine line between concubine and spouse, and if they opened the position to Baal’s residents, they’d have a line of eager participants that could wrap around Baal a hundred times over.

Regardless of her feelings, he couldn’t afford to be weak or Sanja would run roughshod over him. It wouldn’t take long for
The Thirteen
to become
The Pussy-whipped
in the circles that mattered. No demon would respect him, and he’d lose his position in the
House of Spirits
. He’d worked too hard to squander his status for the gentle feelings of a woman.

After she’d mentioned she enjoyed art, he plotted to acquire art supplies before he returned home. Now he feared it’d send the wrong message. Like she could disobey and still be rewarded.

He ran a hand through his hair. Handling a woman was more delicate than he’d anticipated. Fucking her into a docile attitude had been his plan. It worked with demons. Why couldn’t Sanja be as uncomplicated as one of them? A few hours at most and a demon—male or female—was his lapdog. Ready and eager to please in any manner he desired. Not Sanja. He suspected they’d never fully coerce her into being a true submissive. He could live with that and rather liked the possibility. What mattered most was that she obeyed when in the presence of others. If he hadn’t disciplined her for her disobedience, Cook would’ve spread the news. That would’ve resulted in cataclysmic consequences.

With a weighty sigh, Troz pushed off the wall and headed to his office. He had important shit to do. Things that affected his thirteen Houses and the gentle political climate of Baal, those were the things he’d focus on. A fucking sex-slave wasn’t going to plague his thoughts. He didn’t care how much he enjoyed being inside her, he could—and would—push her out of his goddamn head.

Upon entering his office, he stalked straight to the wet bar and poured himself a shot of liquor. He downed the liquid and sloshed more into his glass. No matter the early hour, he required something to soothe his agitation.

Troz strode to the window and caught sight of Lyx and Sanja on the lawn. Everything inside him softened. The breeze snagged her and Lyx’s hair. He envied his spouse’s time with her. They got along so much easier than he did with her. Lyx’s personality was more patient, soothing, but he could go motherfucking deadly in less time than it took to spit. It was a mistake to think his spouse was trivial.

All I want is for her to want me. Is that too much to ask?

His heart ached to be the focus of her affection. Not love, he wasn’t ignorant enough to believe she’d ever love them. The fickle emotion wasn’t a commodity any locals experienced in Baal. Although he and Lyx had wed to form a formidable alliance, he had grown to care deeply for the man. They had always enjoyed fucking one another. He would die for his husband, also, because that was an implied part of marriage. Even without that aspect of the marital contract, he’d still perish for the other man. But love was a myth, an emotion that coerced individuals to act irrationally. Demons could not love. They weren’t designed to be familiar with the sentiment.

He watched as Lyx placed his arm around Sanja’s shoulders and she flinched away. Words were passed between them, but from this distance Troz didn’t stand a chance in hell of reading their lips. A moment later, she bent at the waist and hugged herself. Had leaving her unfulfilled bothered her that much?

Note to self: Research the libido of angels, humans, and witches. Or just find a pussy-whipped way to punish her
.

Disgusted with himself, he curled his claws into his palms, satisfied only when he felt his blood slip from between his knuckles.

Most likely Baal was to blame for her discomfort. The magical infrastructure heightened all sensations in non-demonic species. She’d eventually adapt. All sex-slaves did…or so he assumed. None chattered about their inability to acclimate. Going easy on her would solve nothing and would send her a false message…that he could be duped into granting her every wish. Not a chance in hell of that outcome happening so long as she rebelled.

A call interrupted his contemplation. It couldn’t have come at a better time. He peeked at the caller ID.
Jakira
. As the creator of Baal, she was their Queen and held absolute authority. For the most part, anyway. If she were to spurn him and Lyx, they’d take her apart piece by piece. They owned that much power in Baal.

One last look in Sanja and Lyx’s direction and he tapped his armlet. Keeping his expression neutral, he stared at the holographic image that popped up from his arm. As always, their Queen was impeccably dressed, her black shirt shimmering in the lighting. The pencil-thin snakes that served as her hair writhed in a subdued manner about her head. Her black, starry-lit eyes assessed him. She always wore an expression of deep contemplation.

Baal’s Queen had a knack for getting under his skin in bad situations. Probably because they both always thought they were right. Socializing with the woman was entertaining and interesting, while often serving as an endurance test to his forbearance.

Suspecting this call was about Sanja, he took a deep breath and reclined into his chair. “Jakira.”

“You purchased a sex slave.” Getting right to the heart of what was on her mind not with a question, but rather a statement. No surprise she knew of his acquisition, but he was somewhat surprised she hadn’t beaten around the bush before getting to the point of this call. Their Queen’s spies skulked everywhere, so she’d probably known about his purchase less than an hour afterward.

Troz elevated an eyebrow and waited.

Jakira didn’t make him wait long. “I’m intrigued. You never trade in flesh. Do spill all the juicy details.”

“She’s a witch.”

“Ah….” She was as much aware of their interest in having children as Horace had been. “Any idea what type of witch?”

“No. She’s Sybil’s daughter, so she’s likely very strong.” Sybil was the strongest of the witches in the Earthly realm. Sanja’s strength mattered little in Baal since the domain neutralized the magic of non-born residents.

“Sybil, hmm?”

Troz nodded. There was little love lost between the demon Queen and the witch. Jakira had negotiated with Sybil to relocate to Baal. All at the beginning of Sybil’s powers awakening. Sybil refused and, not surprisingly, Jakira had taken it personally.

“Your witch is surprisingly pretty for a human. Sybil is just…passable.”

Troz wondered how much information she held on Sanja. “She’s also part angel.” Which was probably the reason for her uncommon good looks.

Jakira leaned forward in her seat, her hologram growing larger. “This does get juicier.”

A fact she hadn’t known. He found
that
interesting. Or she toyed with him to entertain herself. “Cut the bullshit. We both know you knew this information.”

She laughed, a deep-throated sound most men would classify as erotic. “I tried to pry information out of your men at House Three, but they were reluctant to even admit you’d made the purchase. Terrorizing your men for sport, Troz?”

“Horace failed to mention our sex-slave was part angel. We discovered that tidbit of information by accident when she took a letter opener to her throat.” It still angered him thinking of that moment, while the memory of the taste of her blood soothed his temper.

“Interesting girl. I’d like to hear more of that story at another time. Horace tried to kill you?” Jakira’s mind worked like a military leader’s. She rarely needed all the particulars to understand what lay at the heart of the implication.

“Indeed.”

“That must be why he’s mind-fucked in never-never land at the moment.”

Troz chuckled at her sarcasm. An attempt on his and Lyx’s life couldn’t go ignored. He’d had a little one-on-one with Horace, explained their lack of allergen to angel blood, and then placed the motherfucker in the
Wasteland
. There his torment differed from day-to-day. A hellish existence, but Horace’s punishment would deter other would-be status climbers from plotting against his family. Taking down one of
The Thirteen
would be a coup, but also a death sentence from the one that survived. Horace had made a hit at both of them.

“Horace’s predicament sends a stronger message than his death would.” The vilest of the demons were sent to the
Wasteland
. That he’d deposited Horace in the worst locale possible…not even the other demon’s family would aid in his release for fear of Troz’s retaliation. That his men were petrified of repercussions to confess anything even to Jakira pleased him.

“I adore your style.” She sipped green blood from a clear goblet.

“His family contacted me. They swear they knew nothing of Horace’s plans.” Troz itched to take another peek out the window to assess if Sanja and Lyx remained on the lawn. He refrained and maintained his attention on Jakira.

“Do you believe them?” His Queen’s tongue swiped the thick green goo of dragon blood off her upper-lip.

He shrugged. “I have no reason to doubt them.”

“But you’re having them watched.”

As an answer, he grinned. Paranoia aided his wealth and status, while maintaining their safety. He wasn’t about to become lax now that the mother of his children had entered his life.

“The angels request”—she made a face, and Troz got the distinct impression the ‘request’ was more like a demand—“an immediate meeting.” She balled up a sheet of skin-paper. He assumed it was the formal request. Without looking, she tossed it across the room toward the trash bin. It missed wide of its mark. “I’m assuming it’s about your sex-slave. I’ll ignore the
request
.” She sneered. “Fuckers think they can control me.”

Even Troz couldn’t control Jakira. That the angels tried could be considered an unwise tactical measure on their part.

But if they wanted a meeting and she thought it had to do with his woman…he grit his teeth. Angelic interest in Sanja implied her importance to their cause just might be bigger than he imagined. He’d go to war before he’d allow them to have her. Besides, it was their fault she wasn’t in their possession. She hadn’t been marked as a nephilim. The moment Horace tagged her as a sex-slave an alarm should’ve sounded, and she’d have been remanded into angelic custody immediately
if
she’d been identified as a nephilim as she should’ve been. Because of the angels’ failure to tag her as theirs… “They have no claim to her.”

“See that status continues.” Not that Jakira cared about Sanja, she just enjoyed thwarting the angels at all cost.

One clear way to ensure Sanja’s position as their concubine was to impregnate her immediately. Once she bore either his or Lyx’s offspring, none from the lighter realm could claim her. “Working on it, Jakira.”