Demon Spelled (9 page)

“I like that,” the other demon said as he nipped her earlobe and pressed the filmy fabric into her intimate folds. The material clung to her wet flesh. “She’s wet, too.”

Her purple demon skimmed his lips across hers. “Let’s feed you quickly before we decide to breakfast on you.”

Erica wouldn’t complain. Even though she knew she should.

TOO MUCH SELF-CONTROL
went into not taking Sanja right there in the hall. Troz clasped her hand with his and guided her to the kitchen. Imagining her sprawled across the table with them dining on her, rather than fare, increased his frustration.

“Good morning, my lords,” Cook said when they entered the kitchen, her gaze downcast as was appropriate of her status.

Troz nodded a greeting to the woman, released his hold on Sanja, and made a beeline for the coffee pot.

“It’s an especially good morning, Cook.” Lyx indicated Sanja who’d frozen just inside the room. When she would’ve crossed her arms over her breasts, Lyx pulled them down to her sides. Obviously she was aware the gauzy material did nothing to hide the outline of her nipples, which were clearly visible through the damp fabric. “Meet our concubine, Sanja. Sanja, this is Cook.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance.” Cook offered a friendly, but cool smile.

“N-nice meeting you.” She peered about the room as Cook went back to whipping up breakfast.

“Coffee, Sanja?” Troz held up the coffeepot.

Her eyes lit up. He’d take that as a yes.

“You have coffee in Hell?” She sounded amazed to discover they possessed something of a human nature.

“Baal,” Lyx corrected. “Not to be confused with Hell.”

They’d left Hell centuries ago without regrets. He couldn’t think of one thing that could convince them to return to that vermin infested realm.

“Coffee is a luxury I have imported,” Troz brought the conversation back full circle. “Lyx’s weakness is cigars and tea. Among other things.” He poured an extra mug of the dark brew and sat it on the counter. “It’s strong. Do you require sugar or cream?”

“Both.” Licking her lips, she stared at the drink as if it offered immortality instead of their ejaculation. He was pleased they’d found something so common they could bond over.

Over the rim of his mug, he sipped his black beverage as he watched her heap four rounded spoonfuls of sugar into the brew before topping it off with creamer. Not surprising that she liked it sweet and creamy. Just like her taste. That’s all it took for his hard-on to tap his zipper, reinforcing how much he wanted to be inside her.

She stirred the contents, set the utensil aside, and brought the mug to her lips. “Mmmm….” The sound vibrated against his cock like a caress as she sipped. Her eyelids slipped closed as if she experienced a sensual delight instead of a palate orgasm. “Nectar of the gods’ right here.”

Lyx chuckled.

All Troz wanted to do was strip her down and fuck her right there on the counter. He didn’t give a shit who watched. He couldn’t get enough of her. To make matters worse, he was fascinated with her. In the age when virginity was unheard of, she’d maintained hers, and given it to them with orgasms rather than pain. Remarkable. He’d anticipated tears and theatrics. He’d been determined to soothe them away with climaxes. He hadn’t expected only discomfort and then pleasure as they took her innocence. He’d wanted to minimize her agony and had planned to share the misery with her. Instead, she’d gifted him with earth-shattering bliss, and he wanted to repeat the carnal delights with her all over again.

That withstanding, had he been in her shoes, he’d be railing at the world and defying them instead of sipping coffee in his kitchen as if she’d condoned their claiming. But not their sex-pet. No, she stood here wearing an expression of ecstasy while sipping the dark brew. She’d pacified her friend—at least for the moment. He had not taken enslavement this well in his youth, and he was waiting on her to explode any moment. She couldn’t remain this placid.

“Since I’m supplying the nectar, does that make me your god?” He hadn’t meant to ask the question even though it’d been skirting the fringes of his thoughts.

Sanja choked on the beverage and just managed to set the mug on the counter before sloshing the contents everywhere.

“My apologies. I didn’t mean to catch you off guard,” he said once her coughing subsided.

“It’s…okay.” Her voice was raspy, similar to the way she sounded after she came.

And goddamn but he wanted to taste her orgasm on his tongue again. Wanted it so bad he grappled to control himself. Didn’t help that he could see the outline of her nipples through the thin gauze of her shirt. “So?”

She cleared her throat, her eyes widening marginally. “You wanted a serious answer to your question?”

“Yes.”

She stared at him as if he’d asked her how many heads he possessed. “I’m not sure how to answer.”

“An honest answer is always best.” Her breath hitched, and she seemed overly fascinated with her fingernail creating circles along the counter. “Since you’re forbidden to lie to us, it’s the only option you have.”

Her words came out just above a whisper. “I do not wish to anger you.”

Troz stepped into her personal space, cupped her face between his palms, and forced her to meet his stare. “You’re frightened of us?”

Sanja blinked back tears, but her scratchy voice evidenced them either way. “Of course. Not only am I at yours and Lyx’s mercy, but so is Tera—I mean Tiara.”

Leverage. That’s what Tiara was for them. It was a dirty ploy and not one he’d implemented with any conscious thought. His intentions had been pure when he purchased Tiara. The results were the same though. Having Tiara in their custody gave them unlimited power over their concubine.

Thousands of years later he could remember the blinding fear he’d felt toward his captors. The same fear he knew Sanja felt. Why couldn’t he let the memories remain in the past where they’d resided so long? Until he’d purchased her, he hadn’t thought of the ordeal in centuries. In any event, he was damned glad his abductors hadn’t employed the same tactic against him or his predicament would’ve most likely had a very different outcome.

“We offer you no harm, Sanja.”

“You’ve both guaranteed punishment if I don’t do as I’m told.” Brave even with her fear shining from her eyes.

“You continue to obey discipline won’t be meted out. Either way we wouldn’t harm you.”

“I don’t like pain.”

“I don’t like disobedience.” He ran his thumb along her bottom lip, recalling the way they’d looked wrapped around Lyx’s cock last night. A thing of beauty. He released her, and she remained rooted to her location. Her breath barely elevated her lungs, reminding him of a terrified animal unsure if it should bolt now or if it’d have a better chance of making a go for it at a later date. He retrieved her mug and pressed it into her hands. Either option would plant her delectable ass in hot water.

Until now, he hadn’t realized how skittish she remained of them. They might have to consider a new form of chastisement for her. Theirs had been efficient with their prior lovers, but…he mentally sighed. They had all been demons accustomed to the various forms of reprimand. Regardless of her new immortality, she was still very human with her thinking. Her soft flesh would bruise easily, and he held no desire to mark her. If she feared Lyx’s punishment, then his more personal style would haunt her. “Sit and converse with us while Cook prepares our breakfast.”

Lyx pulled the chair out beside him and motioned to the seat. She took the chair but didn’t meet either of their gazes. Instead she focused on her coffee.

His lover cupped her nape. Her flinch was minute, but noticeable. He envied the ease with which Lyx freely touched her. Not since his kidnapping as a child had he been comfortable touching anyone outside of the bedroom other than Lyx.

Lyx met his gaze. “Troz, you must realize much of her words to her friend were lies? Meant to calm her.”

Troz had suspected. In her shoes, he’d probably have done the same. Sanja whipped about to gape at him.

His purple lover ran fingers through her hair and offered her a serene smile. “My sex-pet, blame your mother. She should’ve taught you how to guard your thoughts. I cannot help but snag them when they’re projected, and you rarely stop projecting. I don’t go rummaging through your mind. I could, but I only do that if necessary.”

“It’s not impossible for you to pretend you don’t know what I’m thinking.” She licked her lips, and Troz wondered how she’d react if he tossed her ass on the table and spread her out on it so he could dine on her. He resisted the compulsion only by reminding himself she required time to adjust.

“I don’t receive all your thoughts, just most. You all but shut down in the bed last night. When our dicks were inside you”—she gasped and shot a glance at Cook, but Lyx kept right on talking—“if not for Troz I wouldn’t have had a clue what you were feeling. However….” He unhooked her death grip from her mug and placed her hand palm side up on the table. Using his purple talon, he traced the lines in her hand with the tip. “There are a great many things I ignore that I don’t like you thinking. Such as moments ago with Troz you were contemplating if you could use the new knowledge of your witchcraft for yours and Tiara’s escape.” His nail pierced her skin.

She whimpered as Lyx drew her palm to his mouth and flicked the blood away with the tip of his tongue.

Troz had known she contemplated fleeing. He didn’t need to be a mind reader to know that. Her expressive features detailed every one of her thoughts.

Lyx tugged her nearer to him with a lock of hair. “I disliked your thoughts in the tub earlier when you pondered how soon we’d dispose of you and get a new concubine.”

Troz wondered how she could entertain such a ridiculous notion. As their first concubine, they’d cherish her more than any other lover they’d ever had. They’d waited for her for a long time, which meant she was special to them, and they wouldn’t be discarding her like a child would when it tired of a new toy.

Troz slammed his fist on the table, and she jumped. “Never,” he vowed.

Leaping to his feet as Lyx released his hold on her hair, Troz yanked her out of her seat, palmed her hips, and sat her on the table. Without gentling her, Troz shoved her thighs wide and stepped between them, pulling her flush against him. He placed a hand on her low back to hold her in place. Troz wrapped her hair around his fist and jerked her head back. Their gazes crashed and held. Her breathing double-timed and from his periphery, Troz could make out the rapid rise and fall of her breasts.

“You will remain with us forever. Learn to accept that, Sanja. The sooner the better for us all.” Troz kept his voice deceptively calm as fury at the idea of her misgivings swept through him.

“If our roles were reversed, could you accept your situation?” That wasn’t what Troz had expected from her.

“No.” He’d fight to the death before he’d remain anyone’s captive. “You’re human, and your race adapts easier.” He rubbed her scalp where it must sting from his abuse. “No more fighting. I loathe quarreling with you, especially since you were bought for fucking.”

She flinched as if he’d struck her.

“Now…your clothes, they send the wrong impression.”

“Like she doesn’t wish to be ravished.” The scrape of Lyx’s chair resounded in the room.

“Please not here.” Her gaze flitted to his before venturing to his spouse. “The cook…is present.”

“We’re not going to fuck you in front of Cook, my sex-pet.” Lyx ran his fingers up her bare arms.

She sent a questioning glance at Troz.

“Slaves don’t wear attire. Yours must go.”

Sanja swallowed hard. “But the cook—”

“Is probably surprised you’re wearing them,” Lyx interrupted her. “Isn’t that right, Cook?”

“Yes, my lords,” came her complacent reply, along with the scrape and ting of cookware.

A charming blush put color in Sanja’s cheeks. “I believe I’d rather be punished.”

The waver in her voice suggested she probably wouldn’t. Troz enlightened her on the semantics of discipline. “Even if we dole out justice, Sanja, it doesn’t release you from the command you disobeyed.”

“Means Cook would watch me redden your backside. Then you’d be sitting on a burning ass and still complying with our dictates.” Lyx slid the ends of her hair across his dark purple lips, his gaze honed on her mouth and his eyes overbright as if he visualed the act. She glared at his lover, and a slow smile spread across the other man’s lips. “You’re welcome to hate us, my sex-pet. I’m inclined to believe it’s a childish thought when your body betrays your true emotions.”