A Christmas Demon for Clara

by Chloe Alice Balkin

  "You're a goddess," he rumbled at her ear. "My goddess. My sugarplum." His praises faded into heavy breaths along her throat. His hand drifted down her side, treating her to sharp twangs of pleasure as he hit sensitive patches, until he'd gotten all the way down to her leg, lifting it and spreading her wide again as he took her in earnest.

  She wanted to touch him, to feel the way the muscles of his back bunched, but she couldn't stop her hands from digging into the sheets. She was going to rip them, she was sure of it, but then his other hand slithered up her arm to twine his fingers with hers, and she gladly squeezed his hand as tightly as he squeezed hers.

  She felt the buildup, a new sensation yesterday but everything now, the thing she couldn't get enough of and wanted to share with no one except Locke. Her hand did finally get back to his shoulder, either pulling him close or pushing him away, she couldn't say which.

  "Are you almost there?" he growled.

  She nodded, unable to speak.

  He let go of her thigh, and for a second she thought he was going to back off and deny her what she yearned for most. But he kept going, keeping up his now rough pace, and brought his wrist to his mouth.

  She uttered a faint, startled cry, her attention snapping to the damage he was doing to himself.

  He let his wrist hover between them. "Drink from me, sugarplum."

  Her mind was spinning in too many directions, but she got herself focused enough to say, "Is this some, like, bonding thing. You should—"

  Her eyes rolled back at a swivel of his hips, his cock hitting her in a different, more sensitive place now, but that wrist, his blood twin ruby rivulets running down his arm, still hung above her.

  "You need to tell me if it's a bonding thing."

  "This is something else. You'll like it."

  It wasn't the words that made her trust him, it was the wide eyes, shimmering in a dark, electric violet, that got her right where he wanted her. Her lips parted, and he brought the punctures down to her mouth.

  The moment the taste of sweet copper hit her tongue, an orgasm rocketed through her, so much more powerful than anything she'd felt the night before. It shot from her toes to the top of her head, every muscle clenching hard, balling onto themselves as she sucked hard on Locke's wrist.

  He plowed into her, pushing himself to the hilt. In her tight confines, she felt him jerk and then flood her. She watched as he reared up, his upper lip pulling taut over those fangs of his as a soft moan rumbled in his chest.

  A second orgasm melted her into a puddle, this one entirely in her brain as her muscles stroked along his length, milking him.

  She was so beautiful. She was his. He would die if she ever left him, she just knew it.

  She eased off at that thought, feeling a bit sour over her arrogance to think she had so much power over him.

  Locke lowered himself back down over her, continuing to rock, but slowly, his words strained. "That's…that's me. My sweet aionia, you're hearing my thoughts, my heart. Keep drinking so we can climax again. Together. You come, I come."

  Oh, what a delightful little trick. She'd heard men couldn't do that as often as women, but obviously that wasn't a problem for Locke. She sucked harder, bucking him as the next orgasm raced through her, and Locke roared, his cock jerking in her, only for him to start pumping hard again.

  She couldn't say how many times they came together, only that there came a moment when she noticed that Locke's skin was starting to cool, his sweat growing clammy, his color draining.

  Don't stop, that voice in her mind told her. I don't ever want to stop.

  She ran her fingers through his hair, wishing she had his silly horns to stroke, and came one last time before moving her lips down to his palm and laying a kiss there.

  He collapsed beside her, panting desperately, shivering so much she pulled the blankets up and wrapped herself around him.

  He was trying to stay awake, she could tell by the way his eyelashes batted, but she'd bled him to exhaustion. She'd let him love her to exhaustion. She couldn't wait until they could do it again, but for now, she took advantage of how limp his big frame was to shimmy her arm under him and pull him just enough over her that she could get his head on her chest. She liked him there, where she could feel his breath, his heart beat against hers.

  "Sleep, my aionia," she whispered. She was sure there were demons out there who would get mad at her for using that word, that she couldn't understand it at the level of that demon's did, but Locke had shared his every thought with her. He'd been an open book, and every page was a love song to Clara.

  Yes, she knew what aionia meant, and Locke was her aionia. Of that, she had no doubt.

  "You have that power over me, sugarplum."

  "What power?" she murmured as she stroked his cheek.

  His hand flopped up, using the most minimal movement to tease her nipple and bring it close enough that he could lick at it. "When I bit you here, I felt everything you felt. When you came, I came. That's why…that's why last night was enough for me. Not because of your orgasm, but because your happiness was my happiness. If you're sated, I'm sated. You're always enough."

  "You're scattered, aionia. That's really sweet, but seriously, what power?"

  He bent his neck, twisting his head to look at her. "If you leave me, I'll die. But don't worry—"

  "I'll never leave you."

  He grinned sleepily. "Yes, that's what I was going to say. Good night, aionia."

  Chapter 25

  There was a lot of knowing smiles as the guests filtered out. It seemed like everyone knew exactly why Clara and Locke had vanished. Then again, there were a few lulls in the music when Eloise had heard the faintest sounds from the stairwell leading to her sister's room. She doubted she was the only one who heard them.

  She was happy with Clara and Locke. Over the moon about it. All she'd ever wanted for Clara was a good man willing to be patient with her and to win her over without needing to be with her intimately first. Maybe that wasn't totally true about Locke, but even a blind man could see that he'd never hurt her. Not on purpose at any rate, and that was all anyone could ask for in a relationship.

  Theirs would be complicated, but Eloise knew that for Clara, it would be worth it.

  She felt good about the couple she'd helped through the rough spots, but she didn't feel particularly good about herself.

  It wasn't that she'd had sex with a demon. That had been a new experience for her, but at the level she knew demons, she wasn't upset with herself about it. Locke wasn't the first she'd come across who had something close enough to humanity to think they could be good people.

  It wasn't that it had been rough and gritty and a very small step from anonymous, either. Eloise didn't see anything wrong with a meaningless romp fueled by alcohol and a good bit of tension. She didn't even care that it had all been a game with Killian to push her too far, only for him to find that there wasn't a too-far, and that he'd ultimately been unsatisfied with the encounter.

  Oh, he'd finished, her temporary departure from the party had been enough to prove that, but he hadn't been happy with how everything played out.

  Still, Eloise wasn't happy with herself, and it was Christmas, dammit. She needed to be happy.

  She shucked on her winter boots, shimmied into wool coat, slapped a fluffy hat on over her head, and hauled her ass out into the frigid snow. The demons, all but Locke, were outside somewhere, watching the skies for the impending angel-pocalypse.

  She found Ramellen first, mostly because the female came to her, offering her some of the spiked apple cider that steamed in her thermos. "Cold night for a stroll, don't you think?" the demon laughed, flashing a mouthful of ragged teeth Eloise suspected made some demon back in Hell very happy. The other two had been notably irritated by the affection between Clara and Locke, but Ramellen was obviously rooting for them.

  And Eloise wasn't naive enough to think that female demons had the soft s
pot female humans were notorious for. No, this one had a mate, a…whatever the term was for it. She knew there was something, but it was always said so quietly, so privately, that she'd never quite heard it.

  "I'm not out here for a stroll," Eloise informed her, but she did take a swig of that cider. She wasn't nervous about talking to Killian, but any extra courage was appreciated. That demon was more than a little intimidating.

  Ramellen nodded. "He's lurking by the back door. I think he climbed up on the shed."

  Eloise gave her an irritated look, wanting to fight about who she was looking for, but who was she kidding?

  Ramellen tapped the side of her nose anyway. "Got a good sniffer here. Don't worry, none of the humans would have been able to smell him on you."

  That wasn't quite the relief the demon probably thought it was, but Eloise thanked her anyway and marched around the house to the back, where the shadow of the house blocked the moon.

  Not just that, either. She could see well enough to make out the shed, but above it was a black swirl sucking up what little light trespassed there.

  "You can come down!" she called up to Killian, which elicited a hiss of irritation from him but nothing else.

  So be it. Eloise had always been the most athletic of the sisters, Clara too much in her sweets and Hazel too much in her horror books. Eloise sussed out how Killian had gotten up on the roof and followed his footsteps there.

  He was sitting on the peak in the snow, hunched down, his feet, hands, and butt all planted there. He didn't bother to face her, but Eloise didn't let that get to her.

  "We need to talk," she said as she carefully navigated the slope, crunching the snow between her boots as she straddled the peak.

  "Not really."

  "I say we do," she insisted.

  "We banged. You liked it. Nothing to discuss." His words were quiet but clipped, each one coming out with a bite.

  "You avoided me." A dumb thing to complain about, she knew. That was how this worked. Good time was over, carry on. But the words were there, and there was a truth to them she didn't like.

  "I had work to do. I'm here for your sister."

  Not Eloise. That subtext was obvious enough. "And I thank you for that," she said.

  "You already thanked me for it."

  "Ass," she grumbled, finally getting close enough to touch him but hesitating. Her demon sight may have given her the ability to see things other humans couldn't, but she wasn't entirely sure that the swirling black around him was invisible to the human eye. It was that potent. "I've never seen this on a demon. What is it?"

  "Nothing I'm telling you about, that's for damn sure."

  "Is it why you want me to hurt you?"

  "I'm a wrath demon. I want you to hurt me because I get off on it way better than I do in some human female's pussy."

  A low blow, but he was an angry man. It was not unexpected. For some women, this was probably foreplay.

  It wasn't for Eloise, but it wasn't wounding, either. She saw him for what he was, and the words weren't even all that angry, not the way he said them. They were hurt.

  He wanted to hurt, to be laid out by her zapper, but it wasn't because he was aroused by it.

  "I know too much about demons, and not enough," she mused, wishing she could at least sit next to him. The roof was too slanted and her butt, covered only by her party dress and her wool coat, too cold as it was. She shivered through the aching chill of the winter night. "I see things, sometimes I even feel them. I don't just zap. I can…I can sneak in without you even knowing, for a little while, at least."

  He turned his head just enough that she could see the lashes framing one black eye. "Did you do that to me while I fucked you? Did you like it?"

  "I didn't do that. I…don't think I would have liked that at all, actually."

  The corner of his lip turned up. "Such a human thing to say. Do you want to? I don't care, if you're asking permission. Run around in there all you want."

  "I don't want," she said emphatically. "Not with this miasma around you." She reached out to touch it, to see if it was real. Her hand cooled, but that could have simply been the night air.

  "Miasma. A pretty word."

  "Really?"

  "A prettier word than it deserves. If you're not going to zap me, and you're not going to do your brain journey thing, why are you here?"

  "I told you already. To talk."

  "We talked. Go to bed."

  "I haven't said what I need to."

  He looked her dead in the eye, waiting for her to speak.

  She didn't know what to say.

  "You know what? Never mind. You're an ass. You got a great dick, but you're disgusting, and I hate you."

  He laughed. He actually laughed at her. And damn him, it sounded as genuine as any laugh. Nothing cold or sarcastic in it. He was genuinely amused. "That's really good, human. Keep hating me."

  "Eloise," she gritted out. "You can at least say my name."

  "Why? I'll never need to remember it."

  "You know, you may think I'm just some pathetic human with this weird-ass ability, and maybe I am," she started, reaching out to take his shoulder as her boots started to slide in the snow. "But I know I'm—" The moment her hand touched him, he pulled away from her.

  Her boots lost their hold.

  She couldn't do anything as she fell to the side, tumbling down the side of the roof and off the building, plummeting toward the ground below, praying the snow would be enough padding to keep her from breaking her neck.

  At no more than a couple feet from impact, the world went black as something wrapped around her, not slowing her but cushioning her landing. Protecting her from the worst of the damage even as she got rattled hard enough she couldn't think for a few seconds.

  She was in the snow but not, held down by steel bands across her waist and shoulders but elevated by a broad, firm pillow that rose and fell in an even cycle. She sank in and took in the scent of clean ice and ash.

  Killian.

  His arms held her still as his head rolled back in the snow. His fingertips dug into her as though he couldn't release her in even the small amount. They'd been arguing, and he'd been incredibly cruel, but he'd saved her.

  "I'm sorry," she started sheepishly. She'd certainly ruined her dramatic retort, hadn't she? "Are you—"

  He pushed her off him with a grunt and got himself up on his feet, not even offering her a hand. "Now you owe me two."

  "Two? I'll admit you might have just saved my life, but what—"

  "I saved your life," he said as he dusted snow off his coat and stretched his back. "And I made you come."

  Eloise was pretty sure steam leaked out her ears. She was starting to get seriously irritated with the shitty things he said. "You came, too. Don't even try to deny it."

  He laughed. "Yeah, I did. But I don't need to waste my time making sluts come, so you're welc—"

  She clocked him hard in the chin, swinging up hard enough that he staggered back. "How dare you?" she bellowed. "I am not a slut. Even if I was, that would make you one, too."

  "I'm a fucking demon, human. I've murdered more souls than you've met your entire life." He twisted his jaw roughly, snapping it back into place, and stepped right back up to her. He loomed over her, and she had no doubt he was making sure she could see him for what he truly was. Tall, sleek, a razor's edge of a demon. When he got close enough, the moonlight shimmered off his eyes, hinting at a deep, piercing blue. "Does that make you feel good, human? Do you like knowing you fucked a murderer? You let him suck your blood as he fucked your pussy, you slut?"

  Eloise tightened her coat around her, refusing to let her fall prey to his intimidation. "You are not welcome here," she said firmly, brushing away any negative thoughts she had of her decision to hunt him down to begin with. They could have had a civil conversation out here. Instead, he had to be truly foul with her just to rile her.

  "I'm
here for Locke, sweetheart. Don't forget that. You mean nothing to me. You're just a…dick warmer."

  It was a stretch, and it gave Eloise space to roll her eyes and get her feet back under her. "Really? That's the best you can do? Dick—"

  "Fuck me!"

  "Ha! As if I'd ever—" She squeaked as he spun her hard, drawing her attention to the horizon, to the strange golden glow there.

  Then he shoved her in the shed and slammed a log in front of the door to keep it from opening.

  Chapter 26

  "Go through the door."

  "I'm staying with you."

  "I can't protect you here!"

  "I won't leave you! I'm not going to sit in our bedroom freaking out over what's happening. No way."

  Despite the argument, despite the frigid air on the front lawn, despite the useless army of lawn ornaments, a hot tingle of pleasure raced up Locke's spine.

  Our bedroom. Yes, everything that was his was Clara's, including his fear right now.

  She shivered, and he didn't pretend it was from the cold. They were too connected, the bond of what they'd shared not an hour ago was still a high that even the impending angel couldn't stifle.

  He grabbed Clara, unable to hold back, hugging her close. "Please, aionia, I beg of you. If I lose you tonight, I'll never—"

  "And if I lose you because I was hiding instead of standing beside you, ready to face whatever might come? This isn't just you and your friends. This is my sisters."

  One of them, at least. Hazel had marched out of the house behind them, grim and suited up for combat in heavily chained black pants, boots for kicking some serious ass, and a set of kitchen knives that Ramellen was now dipping in Styxian water while giving her a hefty set of warnings of how much she did not want to touch those blades.

  Eloise, meanwhile…despite the giant house between them, he could hear her raising Hell in the shed out back.

  "Looks like I'm the only one who got control of his woman," Killian chortled, and everything except Eloise's curses went silent until Killian said, "Not my woman. I just banged her."