The Darkling's Kiss: Part Two: The Daemon Unleashed (The Daemon's Descendants Book 2)

by Charlie Richards

  With his other hand, Philippe gripped Kalylle’s waist and encouraged him to roll to his side. Then he moved his hand to his wizard’s thigh and pushed his leg forward. Shifting his hips a bit to find the proper position, he guided his cock head to his lover’s hole. Once there, he pushed in and in, sinking balls deep into Kalylle in one long, smooth glide.

  Growling deep in his throat, Philippe relished the tight squeeze of Kalylle’s muscles along his length. With his balls pressed against the wizard’s ass cheeks, he forced his body to stop. While he felt the daemon within him hiss in his mind, urging him to take what he wanted from his man, he resisted.

  Instead, Philippe rested his forehead against Kalylle’s nape. He trembled, enjoying the pleasure of having his dick buried in the wizard’s hot, tight body. Realizing swiftly that if he didn’t focus on something other than the way his lover felt, he’d lose himself, he racked his brain for a distraction. Philippe remembered Kalylle’s desire to talk.

  “The memory,” Philippe whispered, trying to focus. “The memory I took from Hardenshaw…it didn’t tell me much,” he admitted gruffly. “It was a woman. A wizard. She has blonde hair and green eyes, bronzed skin. I don’t know her name.”

  Feeling his irritation return, Philippe distracted himself by easing his prick partway out of his lover. He relished the ripple of Kalylle’s chute muscles massaging his length. To his relief, he found himself relaxing.

  “If I saw her again, I’d recognize her,” Philippe claimed before latching his lips onto the pulse point of Kalylle’s neck. He nipped lightly, then continued roughly, hating what he was about to admit but needing to. “I couldn’t even control myself long enough to question the wizard that did this to me.”

  “You wish to discuss this with me now?” Kalylle moaned and rocked against him. “Why?”

  “This…sex with you,” Philippe mumbled, licking up his lover’s neck. “This eases my frustration. Instead—” He sank his cock as deeply as he could and paused. Feeling his erection twitch in Kalylle’s channel, he sighed before admitting, “Instead, I feel lust and desire. Compared to what’s been churning through me for the last several days it feels…peaceful.”

  “I’m happy to help ease you,” Kalylle assured, turning his head so he could peer over his shoulder at Philippe. His expression, however, appeared troubled. “But you know we can’t fuck forever, Philippe,” Kalylle stated. “We have a job to do. I need your help.”

  Growling a curse, Philippe glared at his lover as he began a slow, steady rut. “Haven’t you been listening, Kalylle?” He moaned and bowed his head, breathing in his lover’s scent of masculine sweat, their combined cum, and something slightly spicy that was all Kalylle’s own. “I’ve murdered just about everyone I’ve come across between here and Crood,” Philippe whispered softly, picking up his pace, sinking his erection deep into Kalylle over and over, needing the friction to remind him he could do more than just kill. “I can’t seem to stop myself. It’s like I’m watching something else control my body.”

  Half-turning in Philippe’s grip, Kalylle twisted enough to press a kiss to his shoulder. “You’re a good man, Philippe,” he insisted. “That’s why you came here, to me, because you knew you needed help.”

  Philippe moaned, having no response. Never had another claimed such a thing about him…had such faith in him.

  “We’ll stick together,” Kalylle continued, reaching back and gripping Philippe’s hip. He rocked into Philippe’s hold, meeting each of his ruts as he breathlessly continued to speak, his voice rough with his own need. “T-Travel at night, stay away from others as much as possible, but we’ve got a job to do.”

  Philippe shook his head, rubbing his forehead against Kalylle’s nape. “Too dangerous. I’m too dangerous.”

  “You can beat this,” Kalylle responded gruffly, digging his fingernails into the skin of Philippe’s hip. “We’ll find your angel soul.”

  Sighing, he felt his lover’s determination permeate him. Strange that after so many years alone, he’d finally found someone he trusted. Groaning softly, he nodded, his forehead still against Kalylle’s neck.

  “Okay.”

  Philippe felt his balls tingle and tighten, telling him his orgasm approached. Wanting to please his lover, he slid his hand from Kalylle’s hip to his cock. He gripped the wizard’s dick in a firm hold, jacking him swiftly in time with his ruts.

  “Come for me, Kalylle,” Philippe ordered. “Squeeze my dick.” Adjusting the angle of his thrusts, he drilled into the bundle of nerves he knew would send the wizard flying. When Kalylle barked a hoarse cry, he grinned. “That’s it,” he crooned. “Scream for me.”

  With his right hand slid under Kalylle’s torso so he could hold him close, Philippe continued to strip his lover’s cock with his left. He pounded into the man, slapping his balls against his ass, relishing the sting. Reveling in the man’s tight passage, he ground his teeth together, desperate to hang on. For the first time that he could remember, Philippe wanted to please his lover first.

  “Ph-Philippe!”

  Hearing Kalylle cry out his name, feeling his chute muscles clamp down on his dick, Philippe groaned. He thrust deep and stayed there, enjoying the squeeze and contract. His balls pulled tight, responding to the sensual massage. Moaning his lover’s name, he emptied his seed into him for the second time within the hour.

  Philippe eased his grip on Kalylle’s prick, shivering with his own pleasure. He panted harshly, trying to get enough air into his lungs. “Holy shit,” he mumbled, skimming his lips up the wizard’s neck. “So damn good.”

  Kalylle sighed softly. “Mmm-hmmm.”

  Pleased that he’d rocked the man’s world as to render him speechless, Philippe grinned as he pressed a kiss to his lover’s neck. He felt fantastic, amazing, even knowing what he’d done. The only other time he remembered having this satisfaction wasn’t after sex. It’d been when he’d followed his angel instincts and helped someone.

  “The elf woman,” Philippe whispered. Feeling Kalylle’s sudden tension and feeling his confusion through his empathic abilities, he realized just how that could have been taken. He quickly tried to explain. “The elf woman’s mother is a seer. Maybe she can help us.”

  Kalylle nodded, craning his neck to meet his gaze. “I received permission to go through the tomes that catalog everyone’s magical marks. I have two left,” he told him. “I’ve already cross-referenced the travels of the wizards, too, but there are over four dozen who could have been in contact with the dwarf.”

  “I can help you go through the tomes.”

  Upon seeing the wizard’s hesitation, Philippe could guess as to why. He ignored the flash of irritation that erupted in his chest in favor of assuring, “As long as we don’t run into anyone else, I think I can control myself.”

  “I need a break first,” Kalylle admitted. He met Philippe’s gaze over his shoulder, a wry smile twisting his lips. “I’ve been staring at page after page of marks for the past three bells. My eyes need a rest.” Then he winked, “And fucking, while done in my bed, certainly wouldn’t be considered restful.”

  “Ah.” Philippe felt a pang of remorse that he’d misunderstood Kalylle’s hesitation. He’d never been the best at being patient enough to read others first before jumping to conclusions. Another reason he’d always worked alone. “Rest, lover,” he murmured, nuzzling the back of Kalylle’s neck. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Does that include out of my ass?” Kalylle teased, although his voice already sounded a bit drowsy. “Or getting under the blanket?”

  Scoffing softly, Philippe murmured, “I’ll take care of it. Feel free to pass out.”

  Philippe eased his prick from his lover’s channel. While Kalylle grunted, he didn’t so much as move a muscle. Grinning smugly, he grabbed the discarded hand towel and went through the novel process of cleaning up his lover. After cleaning himself, too, he grabbed the blanket folded at the foot of the bed. Philippe climbed onto the bed beside the o
ther man. After a second of hesitation, he spread the blanket over both of them, then pressed up against him.

  For the first time that he could remember, Philippe slept with another.

  * * * *

  Kalylle roused to the sound of a bell chiming and someone calling his name. “I’m awake,” he muttered. “How long have I been out?”

  “A few bells,” Philippe told him. “Long enough for both our stomachs’ growlings to wake me.”

  The wizard saw his friend’s—lover’s—apologetic look as he eased to a sitting position. He chuckled softly as he rubbed his palm over his face. “It’s good that you woke me,” he mumbled. “We have work to do.” He peered at Philippe, seeing he’d already donned his borrowed leggings and sat at the nearby table with a cup, probably water from the pitcher, cradled between his palms. “How are you feeling, my friend?”

  Philippe shrugged. “Fine, for the moment.”

  Praying the thief would let him know if that changed, Kalylle eased from the bed. He picked up his pantaloons from the floor, donning them quickly, doing his best to fight back a blush. There wasn’t anything the other man hadn’t seen, after all. Once his robes were back in place, he lifted his arms and stretched and yawned, trying to get his mind moving again.

  Finally, Kalylle focused on Philippe.

  With a smirk on his face, the albino glanced down at his white chest. “Shirt?”

  Kalylle nodded, opened a chest, and pulled out a tunic. He glanced at Philippe where he sat at the table, then grabbed something else from the chest. Crossing to the table, he placed both items on it.

  “Here,” Kalylle offered. “Clean trousers, too. You, uh—” He paused, waving a hand at the torn, bloodied leggings. “Look a little conspicuous.”

  Snorting, Philippe rose and stripped, then pulled on the clean clothes.

  Kalylle crossed to the door and eased it open. After a glance to be certain the hallway was empty, he motioned Philippe forward, then followed the other man out of his chambers. Once he’d magically locked his door, he fell into step beside the man as they headed down the hall.

  * * * *

  Philippe could feel Kalylle’s watchful gaze on him as they walked. He followed the wizard’s silent instructions as he indicated where to go. Reaching the bottom of a stairwell, Philippe spotted a woman heading their way. He hissed in frustration, glancing over his shoulder at Kalylle. He felt his inner daemon begin to uncoil. Sweat broke out on his forehead as he struggled to keep his hands at his sides. Slowly, one hand reached behind his back, almost of its own volition, and he pulled a knife from his belt.

  Just before Philippe reached her, he felt a shove from behind, causing him to stumble sideways. Kalylle wrenched the knife from his grip. At the same time, he pressed his forearm across Philippe’s shoulder blades.

  “On your way,” Kalylle told the woman.

  Breathing deeply through his nose, taking in slow, deep breaths, Philippe rested his forehead against the cold stone wall. He cursed softly under his breath. After several moments, he felt Kalylle’s grip on him ease as his lover drew away. Peering over his shoulder, Philippe took in the wizard’s concerned expression.

  “Thanks,” Philippe whispered.

  Kalylle held up the knife. “Watch where you leave this thing, my friend.”

  Philippe nodded as he took the weapon and returned it to his belt.

  “Let’s go.” Kalylle pointed down the hall.

  The two made it to the relative security of the library without further incident. “How about some food,” Philippe muttered, feeling unsettled.

  Kalylle nodded before crossing to a rope and giving it a yank. Pulling a pair of large tomes off a shelf, he placed them on a table. “Please, get started,” he urged, indicating the heavy books. “I’ll meet the servant in the hall.”

  Philippe settled at the table and pulled one of the tomes toward him. He opened it and perused the first page. While he couldn’t read the script, probably because it was in some ancient tongue used by wizards, he skimmed his finger along the column of marks. If he recognized one, he could ask Kalylle about it.

  Kalylle returned a moment later and placed a large tray of food on the table. Philippe helped himself, tucking a piece of dried meat and a piece of cheese into a small roll. Kalylle did the same. Taking a big bite, he hummed appreciatively as he returned his focus to the tome. The wizard pulled the second tome toward himself and opened it.

  They were both almost halfway through their books when the library door opened. Philippe’s fingers tightened on the page he held. Kalylle rose quickly, turning to intercept the intruder. “Vednor,” Kalylle greeted, moving toward the obviously older wizard.

  “I thought I’d find you here,” the man stated, his tone warm. His black robes swished on the floor as he moved closer. “And is this Philippe? Do I finally get to meet him?”

  “Now isn’t the best time, Vednor,” Kalylle countered. “He’s not feeling well this morning.”

  Philippe could feel the daemon’s rage when he dropped his knife belt on the table. Leaving the weapons behind, he approached the pair. He felt Kalylle’s surprise and forced a smile. Holding out a gloved hand, he murmured, “I’m fine. Just a bit of indigestion.”

  “Kalylle speaks very highly of you,” Vednor told him, taking his gloved hand.

  Philippe’s brows rose. “Does he now?”

  “Indeed he does.” Releasing the hand, Vednor headed toward the table. “Are you working your way through the last of the tomes?”

  Before Philippe could follow, Kalylle grabbed his arm, staying his movement. Meeting his companion’s questioning gaze, he forced a small smile. “It’s fine.” He whispered the assurance. Once Kalylle nodded and released him, they both crossed to the table. “I think we’re done here though,” Philippe claimed. “I found the mark we saw on the minotaur.”

  “You did?”

  Philippe nodded in response to Kalylle’s question. “Just did. Here.” He slid the tome across the table toward the wizards.

  “Demara of the Sixth Order,” Kalylle murmured, obviously reading the script.

  A shiver of rage cut through Philippe upon hearing the name. He struggled to keep his breathing even. He clenched his hands and rested his knuckles on the table. “What does the Sixth Order do?”

  “Canto is a member of the Sixth Order,” Kalylle told him, his voice soft. “They study non-human entities.”

  “Demara?” Vednor cut in, his bushy gray brows furrowing. “But she’s such a nice girl.”

  “Was,” Philippe whispered. At their questioning look, he clarified gruffly, “And I didn’t think she was so nice. She’s dead.”

  “How do you know this?” Vednor asked.

  Philippe met his look with a glare, his voice chilling. “Because I made out with her, and then I killed her.”

  Kalylle cleared his throat, drawing Philippe’s attention. “More than we needed to know, Philippe.”

  Upon seeing his lover’s scowl, Philippe grimaced as he shook his head.

  “Is she the one?”

  Philippe struggled to breathe for several long seconds before refocusing on Kalylle and his question. He moved to a chair and gripped the back of it, just to have something to hold on to. Squeezing his eyes shut, Philippe forced his trembling body back under control as he nodded. “She did this to me. Yes.”

  “Did what?” Vednor asked, concern filling his voice.

  Kalylle crossed to Philippe, resting a hand on his shoulder. “She tore Philippe’s soul, removing the quarter angel,” he explained. “He now has only his human half to control his daemonic urges.” Rubbing Philippe’s shoulder, Kalylle continued in a soft, soothing voice, “You stumbled onto something in Crood. Something that made you a threat.”

  Releasing the chair, Philippe threw off Kalylle’s hand. Taking a step away, he turned to glare at the two wizards. “I didn’t—” He stopped mid-sentence. “Wait a minute.” He glanced between the two. “This woman, this woman that took
the wagon from Hardenshaw…Hardenshaw said she was a wizard of the First Order. How do you tell that?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Gritting his teeth, Philippe stared hard at Kalylle. “May I share this with you?” Worry filled his friend’s eyes when Philippe took off his glove. Philippe knew his expression asked an unspoken question.

  Do you trust me?

  Blue eyes narrowing, Kalylle nodded curtly.

  Philippe wrapped his un-gloved hand around his lover’s nape, drawing him close. Resting his lips lightly against Kalylle’s, peering into the wizard’s eyes, Philippe breathed into his mouth and shared the stolen memory from the blacksmith with the other man. His blood heated, and he groaned, sealing his mouth over Kalylle’s, unable to resist kissing the man.

  Kalylle gripped his shoulders, squeezing lightly as Philippe lapped at his tongue. Upon hearing Vednor clear his throat, Philippe jerked back, ending the kiss.

  “Sorry about that,” Philippe whispered. “Sort of.”

  Scoffing, Kalylle offered a wry smile. “No problem,” he murmured. “I understand it’s necessary.” As he eased from Philippe’s grip, his brows furrowed as he added, “And I may know who we’re looking for.”

  “What? Who?” Philippe demanded.

  “Come with me.” Without waiting, Kalylle strode across the room and out the door.

  Philippe glanced toward Vednor, seeing a confused look on the aging man’s face. Dismissing the wizard, Philippe grabbed his weapons belt and hurried after the other man. The way the hairs at his nape stood on end told Philippe that Vednor followed, but he did his best to ignore the sensation. Instead, he hustled after his lover.

  Kalylle led everyone back to his room.

  “What in seven hells is going on?” Vednor demanded once they were behind closed doors.

  Philippe watched as Kalylle opened a chest against the wall and pulled out a parchment. “This is a list of all the people who could have intercepted Faldor,” he claimed. “There is only one on this list who is blonde, green-eyed, and a wizard of the First Order.”