A Demon's Dark Embrace

by Amelia Hutchins

  Her eyes searched the shadows, and then she moved closer to where he stood. Her head shook as she took him in. He was still battered from the torture; her dream was set during it or close to it. He could have laughed, but he knew this was her dream and not a reality. It was her mind’s way of processing what had occurred during the overthrowing of the Guild.

  The entire dream changed to her cheery little bedroom at the Guild. She was slipping out of her clothing while he watched her silently until she looked up at him. She smiled shyly, and he forced a smile to his own mouth.

  He watched her as she moved towards where he stood. Her hands lifted to touch his chest, which was now bared in her mind, free from the still healing wounds. Her lips gently touched his abs, kissing his skin, which pulled a groan of both pain and pleasure from his lips.

  Her hands trailed small circles on his skin, encouraged by his noises as she explored his body. He felt his shaft throbbing in the jeans he wore, wanting her to hurry the hell up and wish them gone. Only, she was innocent, that much he did know. Shit, she couldn’t even get herself off right.

  She hadn’t faked that, and she’d been frustrated the next day from the inability to release the pent-up need. Not that he’d allow her to sate her needs on him; at least not he was fully healed—and then she’d be in trouble because he wasn’t going to be nice about tormenting her.

  He’d never intentionally harmed a woman before, ever. He still had no plans to torture her physically, but he damn sure planned on making her beg him for mercy. By the time he finished with her, she’d know exactly what to do with a cock, and exactly how to please him.

  She turned away from him, dismissing the dream mentally, and then they were back in the catacombs. She stared at the door, tears falling from her eyes. What the fuck was inside the room? What had her sobbing while she stared at it, afraid to see inside? She turned away, lifting her hands, palms up. Blood coated them, leaking from both as if they had been sliced open.

  He was jolted from the dream realm as she woke from the dream.

  “What the hell did you do, little Witch?” he whispered out loud.

  She’d done something that even she feared and couldn’t mentally deal with. Her dream had been vivid, and yet she’d seemed terrified of it. It was hard to fake something in a dream because it was the subconscious of her mind that controlled it. Whatever she’d done, he wanted to know what it was, and why she’d done it.

  He sat up, his body stiff as he shook off the pain that radiated from every part of him. He glamoured on a Theory of a Deadman T-shirt, loose-fitting jeans, and, with his black leather boots unlaced, sifted to her cell.

  *~*~*

  The prisoner had fallen back to sleep, oblivious to the monster pacing, impatiently waiting for those pretty blue eyes to open. His hunger was back, and growing by the second. This stupid little bitch was his now, and she’d feed him. She’d feed him well.

  Pain lanced through his organs, and he smiled coldly as the stupid little Witch awoke, as if she sensed the danger she was in.

  “Get up,” he snarled, his eyes raking over her hungrily as his Demon paced inside of him with a need to devour her.

  He watched as she sat up, warily, her wide eyes taking in the anger he pulsed with. His brands were glowing from his hunger, but he didn’t care. She scooted back warily as he stepped closer. His eyes filled with malice as he smiled coldly.

  “Question time, cunt,” he sneered.

  “I’m not telling you anything,” she whispered. “I already answered Synthia’s questions,” her lips trembled as each word drifted from her tongue. “You can’t make me,” she challenged.

  “Can’t I?” he said as he sifted to the bed and grabbed her throat. “I can make you do anything I want you to—need an example?”

  He allowed his magic to shimmer and slither over her, and knew the moment she began to fight it. Her nipples hardened, and her sex flooded with heat. “That’s it, you weak little girl, tell me who owns you,” he snarled, and his angry eyes glowed as the Fae inside of him took over. He could easily glamour their clothes off, to show her how it felt to be ripped apart and violated as the Mages had done to him, but he wasn’t that far gone.

  “Ristan,” Sinjinn barked as he grabbed Ristan’s shoulder. “Stop,” he whispered with a startled look on his face as he took in the terror on Olivia’s delicate one.

  He’d been distracted and hadn’t heard his brother sift into the cell with them.

  “Get the fuck out of here, Sinjinn.”

  “This isn’t you, man,” Sinjinn said softly.

  “What the fuck would you know about me? You didn’t go through what I did, and you sure as fuck weren’t around for the worst of it,” Ristan spewed, his eyes filled with pain and something worse. Loathing.

  “You don’t want her like that, brother. You want her to pay, and we’re all for that, but this? It’s too much like old times, man. We’re not those things anymore, brother,” Sinjinn said softly, his eyes taking in Ristan’s Demon form as he vacillated between that and his Fae form and remembered their father terrifying women.

  “Those fuckers took my organs out and gutted me while she stood there watching it! What happened to me was because of her, because she tricked me,” he raged.

  “Be that as it may, she’s still mostly Human. So if you plan to kill her, do it. But I didn’t think that was your intention,” Sinjinn said, his tone neutral and calming. “You want revenge and that? That’s going to take time to extract. She’s not protected by spells as Synthia was. If you get too rough, she’ll die.”

  “Get the hell out of here!” Ristan growled angrily, his silver eyes swirling with black patterns as his anger turned hard and deadly.

  Sinjinn sifted out, and Ristan turned back to his little traitor. “I want to know who you worked for, and if you answer the way you did before, I’ll make you wish death was an option.”

  “Cyrus!” she cried, “I worked for Cyrus. He was who I reported to.”

  “Strip,” Ristan growled angrily as he moved from the bed; his immense body was anything but graceful with the pain the slight movement caused his body.

  “In front of you?” Olivia stammered. But she moved, doing as she’d been told as Ristan took a seat on the cot that lined the other side of the small cell.

  His body reacted as she removed the dirty, ripped stockings that reeked of soot and blood..

  It wasn’t until she removed the dress, revealing that she wore only a lacy black bra beneath it, that he groaned as his hunger surfaced with a vengeance. Her breasts were exposed, and it took every ounce of energy to force himself not to pinch the pink tips that hardened right before his eyes

  Naked, she stood before him, her modesty demanding she try to cover herself from his devouring gaze.

  “Who does Cyrus work for?” he asked, diverting his energy to his interrogation. He allowed his magic to flow over her body; his hands shook with the effort.

  “I-I don’t know what you mean,” she answered as she intertwined her fingers and held her hands in front of her red curls.

  “Yes, you do. Hold your hands up,” he demanded, his swirling eyes feasting on her silken flesh that was damp from his magical mind fuck. She obeyed, raising her hands over her head, if not a little slowly, and kept her eyes lowered demurely to the ground.

  He waved his hand, swiftly cleaning away the blood and grime of the past few days, placing a new silver collar with the same medallion attached to it, around her neck, along with a sheer dress of ivory silk that fit loosely. It had spaghetti straps, and would be easy to remove where she was going. Not that he couldn’t just remove it with a single thought, but sometimes he preferred the sound of fabric shredding.

  “Cyrus worked for the Guild, you know that,” she whispered, her eyes roving over her new outfit with fear. “He knew what you w
ere because something set off the wards, but you, you were digging into files and I think he knew all along that you weren’t an Enforcer.”

  “Cyrus is working with the Mages,” Ristan hissed. “He works with them so well that they were in sync as they gutted me. But then again, I saw you in the room, too, watching. Tell me, Olivia, did you help them as they tore out my entrails?”

  “I wasn’t a part of that, but yes, I was dragged into this mess because I helped you!” Olivia growled back, and yeah, his cock jumped at the fire he saw in her eyes. “You and Alden made me guilty of treason because I gave the enemy files that were for Guild eyes only!”

  “So that made it all right for you to turn on Alden? To pave the way for him to be beaten and tortured as he was? The only thing I care about right now, little Witch, is feeding and getting stronger so I can take my pound of flesh from your hide. You allowed someone who cared and raised you to be fucking tortured, so now, it’s my turn to repay it,” he said vehemently as his hungry eyes slid over her flesh, which was visible through the sheer material.

  He stood up and watched as she flinched, her body trembling as he neared her. He didn’t wait for her permission. Instead, he gripped her wrist painfully, pulling her body against his. The connection of their bodies, even with clothes on created a maelstrom of sensation that seemed to start and end at his cock.

  He sifted them and listened as her horrified scream was muffled by the shift of time and space until they entered his quarters. Most of the Elite Guard had them all close to Ryder’s chambers, but Ristan had chosen an unused section for his own.

  The walls were a light shade of gray that had a deep burgundy border around it, which fit nicely with the pictures he’d created. He pushed her towards the bedroom, even as he glamoured a small cot next to his bed and a chain that would link to the collar around her neck.

  His own bed was larger than most because his height needed the extra room for his extracurricular activities. He heard her gasp when she noticed the chains that hung from the seven-foot tall bedpost. It was padded and a creamy ivory color that stood out in contrast with the walls, and was always a jaw-dropper. He used it to tie women up and do some very interesting things with them.

  At the foot of the bed was a white leather settee which, to the naked eye, would look like a couch, but once he opened the sides on each end, it would reveal items which he was very familiar with and would make the most skilled lovers blush.

  He looked her over for any signs of sickness from sifting, as those who tended to have more Human blood in them often ended up violently sick after being sifted. He had been too preoccupied when she’d first gotten here to check for the signs. However, he was glad to see she hadn’t any signs of ill effects from being sifted out of the Guild and into his world. Physically she looked well, but mentally seemed to be an entirely different matter.

  “I’m not sleeping with you!” Olivia cried angrily as she tried to jerk her arm away from him. Before she could continue to protest, he sifted them to the wall, pushing her hard enough to drive his point home, and yet gentle enough that he didn’t hurt her.

  “You’ll do whatever the fuck I tell you to,” he snapped, his hand lifting up and clasping her jaw as his mouth hovered over hers. “If I say suck my cock, you will suck it. If I tell you to ride my cock, what is it that you will do, little Witch?” he murmured.

  “I will not ride anything!” she gasped, but he’d already pressed his mouth against hers, and even though he’d meant to make the kiss punishing, the connection took that objective away. His lips searched hers, and when she parted them, his tongue pushed through as his mouth captured the moan that escaped hers.

  His other hand moved from her chest, heading south to where her nipples had hardened. He pinched one, enjoying the noise she made that was muffled by his mouth and its sensual devouring of her sweeter one.

  Once he’d released her puckered flesh, he pinched it again, twisting it gently as the sensitivity gave way to pleasure. His nose feasted on the delicious scent of her soaked pussy. He groaned as pain from his stomach sharpened, reminding him who he was with, and what he was doing. He pushed off of the wall and smiled coldly.

  “On your knees,” he ordered.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Abruptly, Olivia was shoved to her knees and before she could guess his intent, she heard the sound of metal as it clicked together. He’d connected a chain to the collar she wore around her neck. Her eyes widened in horror as she realized he was locking it with a magical seal.

  “I’m not a dog!” she cried, her eyes filling with tears at her small fists balled at her sides.

  “You’re right. You’re a fucking slave; mine, to be precise. So buckle up, baby, it’s about to get fucking bumpy for you.” He tugged at the medallion now attached to her collar. “Now lie down, and get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be hell for you, little one.”

  Ristan shed his clothing with a single thought and watched as her eyes dropped from his, down to what was staring her right in the face. It was hard, ten inches, and needed to get off. He smiled and watched as her tongue darted out to lick her lips. Fucking hell, she was beautiful, and her scent? It had his soldier begging to be allowed to drive into those silky red curls.

  He turned from her and moved to the bed, pulling back the charcoal colored comforter, his massive body dropping hard as he plopped down on the silky white sheets. He barely contained the groan from the rush of pain that erupted from his carelessness. He closed his eyes, knowing that she was going to have no choice but to lie down, and sleep.

  Her chain only gave her so much room, and it wasn’t enough that she could reach him while he rested; it wasn’t even long enough to make it to the door or to the elegant windows that made up one of the walls of his quarters. He’d made sure of it.

  “I have to use the bathroom,” she said, and he popped open one eye and stared at her.

  “Seriously?” he groaned impatiently. He considered being an asshole since his metabolism utilized everything efficiently so he didn’t have those needs, but she would. He rose from the bed and made his way to her slowly. His soldier jumped up and down as Ristan reached for the chain and released it from the wall.

  He moved across the room and opened a door, because yes, he had a toilet. He had a lot of women who visited him here, and some had personal needs as she did. He pushed the door the rest of the way open to reveal the lavish tub that could fit up to ten people easily, nine if one was a nymph who couldn’t hold still. The shower was black marble, a replica of one back at the mansion back in Spokane.

  Twin stone sinks that had water bubbling like a fountain were built into the vanity. He’d gotten them because the sounds were soothing. Danu hadn’t seen any reason for such a lavish waste of space, but after living among the Humans, he’d come to like these comforts.

  “I can use it alone?” she whispered, and yeah, he heard her clear as a bell.

  He turned his back on her, and that was as much privacy as she’d get. He listened as the clinking of the chain moved, his hand releasing the links as she walked to where the toilet was. It had a small stall, one that would give her a tiny sense of privacy, but then, that wasn’t his problem. He tuned her out, even as he heard the splashing of water as she cleaned herself. It wasn’t until the chain was yanked, and something sailed at his head that he fully turned.

  Olivia stood by the tub, launching missiles in the form of shampoo, conditioner, and other bath products at his head. He smiled. Game on. He sifted, gripped her shoulders and pulled her off the floor until she was eye level with him. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he warned as pain from his healing injuries burned. He sifted again, and they landed on the bed, this time, with him on top, and his little soldier pressed hard against her belly in full salute.

  Not that his cock was little, but the little guy had seen wars and had been
through some kinky-as-fuck women, ones who’d made his soldier sore for days afterwards with their kinky fuckery games. He’d seen a lot of shit over the centuries, and he’d even done some shit that had left love marks on his partners for weeks afterwards. Yeah, he was a soldier. He was a fucking veteran when it came to pillaging pussies. So why was it that this blushing little virgin had him hard as a rock? It probably had to do with the fact that she’d never been fucked—uncharted territory, and all that.

  He ground himself against her clitoris, enjoying her loud gasp as his guy met her girl and hit that spot perfectly. His hands easily captured hers, which rose for an assault, and he smiled coldly as he looked down at her. Fuck, she looked good all pissed off, her breasts heaving from her struggling. She wiggled against him, her small hips moving to dislodge him from where he was perched on her soft, silken body.

  “That’s it, Liv, fight me. Fucking hell,” he growled as he moved in sync with her struggles. He laughed as she immediately ceased struggling, but that heady scent of hers lingered. He lowered his forehead to hers and pressed it there. “If you assault me again, I’ll do the same to you. Only my kind of assault will be one you won’t forget, ever. Do you understand what I am saying?” he growled low, his breath fanning her lips as he lifted his head to look down at her.

  Her eyes were flooding with tears, and her lower lip quivered. He pulled back further and replayed what he’d said to himself. He refused to cave in and soothe her. She had done this to him; she’d handed him to those evil fucks who’d torn him apart as if he was some animal that they’d shot and decided to gut and play with before eating it.

  Worse, this little bitch had brought his King to the enemy, and that was something he couldn’t forgive. She’d taken him down, and by doing so, she could have taken their King. They couldn’t kill Ryder, but if they filled him with enough iron, they certainly could have taken him down, and it would have been game over for the Horde.