Demon's Kiss (5 page)

That didn’t mean she wouldn’t try.

“Well,” Templeton said with a thin smile. “How does it feel,
Special Agent Nicholas, to be served up as a slave, as mere food, to a demon?”

A pause as he nudged the prostrate and powerless Asmodeus
angrily with his toe.

“My demon.”

Seeing the anger and the avid look in Templeton’s eyes,
hearing it in his voice, it was clear to Gabriel that Templeton had wanted to
watch as Asmodeus took her, had imagined Asmodeus raping her with his huge
cock, but Asmodeus had preserved their dignity as best he could.

This was the price for it.

A demon who had more consideration than a man?
What a
shock
, Gabriel thought dryly and bitterly. She had always thought that man
was far more vicious than any of his so-called enemies.

For a moment she thought she heard Asmodeus’ deep voice in
the back of her mind, a sound that almost seemed to resonate in her bones.

Thank you.

She glanced at him and saw his eyes glow brilliantly despite
his pain.

Turning back, she looked at Templeton and asked quietly,
“What do you want with me?”

With a dismissive laugh, Templeton said, “You? Nothing.
You’re nothing to me. Do you understand? You are nothing. Not anymore. Not to
me, not to anyone. I have you, Special Agent Nicholas. I own you now. No one,
not even the FBI, knows where you are, knows that I have you, which gives me
more pleasure than you can know.”

Gordon Templeton glared at her and then his eyes settled on
Asmodeus with evident displeasure.

A terrible anger and satisfaction had filled his voice and
chilled Gabriel to the bone. He was working himself up to something.

Templeton’s voice dropped to nearly a whisper. “When he’s
done with you though, I’ll have you. And I’ll use you until you grovel just at
the sound of my voice.”

Although her skin crawled at the thought, Gabriel just
looked at him and yawned, to all appearances bored. She had heard many threats
like that over the years.

By her feet, she heard Asmodeus smother a furious growl. His
impotent rage, his despair, beat at her.

Curious, she shot a thought at him,
Templeton would only
suffer by comparison, Asmodeus.
To her surprise, she sensed his spirits
lighten a little.

She hadn’t imagined it—she had heard his voice.

A gift of my kiss
, he explained softly, mind to mind,
as the memory of his fangs as they pierced her flesh went through his mind in a
flash of heat and into hers.
Of my venom.

So she
had
felt the effects of something else. Venom.

Gabriel remembered it coursing through her veins, the fiery
heat of it as it flooded her body with delicious pleasure even while his spirit
had opened to hers. And hers to his. Although she hadn’t understood that then.

His dark eyes furious, Templeton held out a hand to one of
the minions who had followed him through the gateway in the rings.

“You though, Asmodeus, must be punished for your defiance.”

That minion slapped what looked very much like a
cat-o’-nine-tails into Templeton’s hands.

Gabriel stiffened, horrified by the vicious thing.

This was what Templeton had been working himself up to do.

It was a horrific-looking implement. There was a short
handle to which were attached a number of tightly woven, long, supple leather
thongs, each secured at the tip with a thick bead of iron.

For the first time Gabriel noticed the condition of
Asmodeus’ back, the ridged scars on his red flesh, the darker stripes there.
They had done this to him before. He had felt the lash of that thing already.

Asmodeus.

Her throat tightened in horror as she realized what it was
they were about to do.

At the sight of the whip, Asmodeus gritted his teeth and
resigned himself to endure. If he were free, able to defend himself, this man
would never dare touch him, would not be able to touch him…but he was not.

My angel. Do nothing. You cannot stop this.

It was a comfort for him in a way, to sense her concern, to
know she feared for him, hurt for him. Still, another kind of fear shot through
him.

Fiercely, he sent,
As you love me, do not give them
another weapon to use against me,
mishea
.

If she fought, he would have to fight as well, despite the
geas
, he would have to try to defend her, to fight beside her. If they knew
she cared, if they knew he did—more than cared—they would use her as a weapon
against him.

“You will learn, demon,” Templeton said, furiously, “not to
deny me or defy me.”

The whip lashed down with a harsh whistling sound and the iron
beads at the ends tore into the flesh of Asmodeus’ back.

Pain seared through him as the whip sliced like fire across
his flesh, each of the iron beads like white-hot embers as they struck his
skin, caught, burned and tore—a coda of additional agony at the end of each
lash.

The shock of Asmodeus’ words scorched Gabriel to her soul.
Rocked her almost as much as the echo of pain in her own back as the whip
burned across his shoulders. She caught her breath at the pain and at his
words.

As you love me
, he had said.

Could she? Was that even possible? Her heart wrenched. How
long had she looked for that and yet never found it? She couldn’t deny that
something in him called to her, had called to her from the moment she had seen
him standing there, so strong, so brave, so impossible. Hours it had been.
Less? More? Forever.

She clenched her hands into tight fists at the sound of the
whip striking his flesh.

It flashed through her mind that Asmodeus had known this
would happen. She fought back the stinging in her eyes, the tears she dared not
shed, for his sake as he’d asked.

It was also clear that Templeton definitely enjoyed what he
did as he brought the lash down again and again, the chant keeping Asmodeus
locked immobile, helpless against the torture. If Templeton had not been able
to take his pleasure from watching them, he would take it from Asmodeus.

Blood ran down Asmodeus’ broadly muscled back in thin
streams and pain etched every line of his strong, handsome face, limned every
taut muscle of his body. His wings were tucked to each side in a vain attempt
to keep them safe, to protect them from the rip and tear of the lash.

Every stroke tore at her heart as it tore into his flesh.

The sound was indescribable. It was even more horrible to
watch, but Gabriel could not turn away. Each time the thin little strands of
leather struck, a half-dozen stripes would appear on his skin, beading with
blood, and Asmodeus would jolt, however much he fought not to.

“Stop it,” Gabriel cried, unable to bear it any longer. “You’ll
kill him.”

Templeton sneered at her. “He’s a demon. He can’t die.”

A sense of something from Asmodeus gave the lie to that
though Asmodeus himself said nothing.

Greater horror ran through her.

Asmodeus was neither immortal nor indestructible as Templeton
clearly assumed. He could indeed die given enough punishment. And if a part of
him wished to, wished for an end to this agony, to his imprisonment. She could
sense it. Something deep inside her went still as a new kind of pain tore
through her, a new kind of grief.

“You bastard,” she said to Templeton, tightly, furiously.
She knew he reveled in her impotent outrage but she couldn’t hold it back.

Though it was heartfelt, it was much less than what she
wanted to do, to say. Would have done if she could, if Asmodeus had not asked
her not to. Every muscle in her body was taut with the need to lash out, to
fight, to defend and protect. It was what she was, who she was. It was why she
had joined the FBI. She had promised. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t break
it. As futile as the gesture might be, she wanted, needed, to fight…and she
couldn’t.

The first stroke of the lash had taken Asmodeus’ breath away
as it always did. The pain, no matter how often he suffered it, was always
shocking in its intensity.

In a corner of his mind Asmodeus was intensely aware of
Gabriel, of how furiously she struggled not to fight for him. Spirit to spirit,
he knew what it cost her to stand aside and do nothing, despite knowing any
action would be a useless gesture in this place, against such odds. But he knew
she would have fought for him, had he not asked her to stay her hand.

The lash came down again and again, until the torture of it
obliterated all thought and there was only agony. All there was within him was
the thought of Gabriel and the determination never to bow his head to the man
who held the whip.

It ended at last with Asmodeus braced on a forearm against
the floor, his head bent but not bowed, breathing heavily from the pain as
blood ran down his sides to drip onto the floor in a steady patter that sounded
like rain. He would not break. Most especially not now, with Gabriel here.
There had to be a way to end this, to escape, although he had searched for it
constantly all these long months.

Every inch of his body ached from fighting the constraint of
the spell but his back, shoulders and wings felt as if they were on fire from
the whip and its wicked little iron balls. The pain was terrible, sickening.
Each spot where they had ripped into his skin burned. He fought the fear that
his wings had been permanently damaged. The thought that he might not fly again
was nearly as much torture as the cat-o’-nine-tails.

“Be ready in the morning, demon,” Templeton said as he
tossed the bloodstained whip to his subordinate and glanced toward his other
minion to indicate that he should stop chanting. “I will have a use for you
then.”

He and his people stepped through the shimmering gateway and
left. It closed behind them.

In an instant, Gabriel was on her knees at his side as he
struggled unsteadily to his feet, lifting one of his arms over her shoulder.
Pain shot through him sharply and he did not know if he could have gained the
scant comfort of the bed without her aid.

“Asmodeus,” she whispered.

“No, my angel,” Asmodeus said, but she put her fingers over
his lips.

Don’t speak, not aloud. It is no more than Templeton
would expect me to do, being one of the good guys. Asmodeus, you should know
that his people can watch and listen to us from a distance.

She used her mind to send images of hidden cameras and
listening devices as she helped him to the bed.

When he had conjured the smoke, he had only done so to
conceal them from the watchers. But this. Shock went through him, along with a
bitter understanding. Suddenly much made sense.

So, that is how he knew.

Knew what?
she asked.

That I could contact my brothers on the other plane.
His mouth tightened.
Thinking myself alone, I spoke aloud to them. They
would have come to rescue me but they would have come here, where they would
have been trapped as well so I forbade it. Templeton wanted it, wants it still.
To have all of my people trapped here and at his bidding. I would not call my
brothers though he asked.

It would have given Templeton an army, a terrible army.

Templeton had beaten him into unconsciousness again and
again, but he had not broken. He would not condemn his brothers—Ashtoreth, most
particularly—to this kind of hell, not again. Even now he could feel Ash
calling to him in frustration, worry and fear, but Asmodeus blocked him.

Gabriel caught the image of it from his mind and she
suddenly knew how he had gotten the other, older marks on his back.

In spite of herself, as tough as she thought she was, as
many horrors as she had seen in her career, tears stung her eyes once again.

“Dear god,” she whispered.

So many of them.

You know him?
Asmodeus asked, his lambent eyes
shadowed, dimmed.
Templeton?

She nodded grimly as she eased him down.
I’ve been
investigating him for years. I know he’s dirty, he’s swindled thousands of
people and he’s used less subtle means of persuasion to convince companies to
sell to him. I just couldn’t prove it.

A significant glance around at the mercenaries hidden in the
shadows was enough.

When I bring him down, it’s going to make Enron look like
a walk in the park. But every time I’ve gotten close, witnesses have changed
their testimony, disappeared, or died.

She suddenly went a little cold and looked at Asmodeus.
Something inside her cried out in rejection at the very idea of it. Asmodeus
must have sensed her fear.

No, my angel. Daemonae do not kill without reason.
I
do not kill without reason. Were I to get my hands on Templeton, I would be
sorely tempted to mete out the harshest form of judgment but even then I would
not kill in cold blood. I had nothing to do with those losses.

Asmodeus…
She caressed his shoulder in apology, wary
of the lash marks.
Is there anything I can do?

No.
He averted his gaze.

She caught his thoughts anyway, just an inkling of what he
would not ask, and she looked at him steadily as a glimmer of understanding
went through her.

That pride of his was so much a part of him.

Asmodeus
, she said, quietly but firmly.

He swore softly, vehemently, under his breath in a language
she could not understand but the meaning was clear enough.

She swatted his shoulder lightly, impatiently.
Stop that.

In surprise, Asmodeus looked at her, a little startled at
her action.

What do you need?
she asked, insistent.

He shook his head, his eyes locked on hers almost
pleadingly.