He continued until she exploded from the combination of the clamps and his cock beating firmly against her pussy. As she came, he pushed into her wet cove and rocked his hips as she continued to come around his wide cock. It took him seconds to explode as her body pulsed hungrily around his shaft. He immediately pulled out and cleansed their bodies before he lifted her leg with his hand and slapped her ass firmly with his free hand.
“I said keep count.”
“You spanked me!” she whimpered, and he smiled.
“Oh my sweet little girl, you have so much to learn about my world,” he warned with eagerness in his soul that he hadn’t felt in a very long time. “And I will enjoy every moment of your education.” He let his hand land firmly against her rounded ass cheek and then reminded her to count.
“One!” she whimpered on a hiss.
“Good girl,” he said as he bent over to kiss her already kiss swollen lips. “Ninety-nine more to go and maybe I’ll give you a break once we reach one hundred.”
Ristan watched as her body buzzed with the powerful clamps and smiled as he sensed her next orgasm already growing. Fucking hell, this little Witch was his match in every way. Her body was his own heaven, and her pussy was the golden gates which allowed him to be somewhere a Demon like him could never go.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Ristan had been true to his word, and the moment she whispered the last number, one hundred, he finally awarded her with a small interval, but only so she could purge the missing pages onto the provided parchment. Olivia managed to sort through the jumbled mental notes in her mind and transferred the pages that Lucian wanted, along with some notes she thought might be needed to decipher the missing parts.
As soon as she finished, Ristan cleaned them both up and glamoured Olivia into a fresh pair of jeans that hugged her perfectly in all the right places, leather boots, and a Black Sabbath Fairies Wear Boots t-shirt. With a wink, he glamoured himself into fresh jeans, boots, t-shirt, and finished his wardrobe with a long leather coat. He ‘d barely thrust a cup of steaming hot coffee into her hands when the door clicked open, alerting them that it was time to go. He wasted no time sifting her back to the Guild so that they could get started on cross-referencing the information in her head with actual details from the archives in the catacombs. If Olivia was right, it wouldn’t be long before they had the elusive dagger.
He’d sifted her back down to the catacombs where he now sat at one of the small wooden tables while she pulled out several files for him to scroll through. He’d flicked his finger and Fall Out Boy’s Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes echoed around them. Olivia grinned at the sacrilege of him blaring music in the catacombs, but hey, who was going to shush them? Her eyes fell on a bowl of jelly beans that had appeared on the table and her heart skipped a beat. He must have discovered her sweet tooth as he’d spied on her. She’d always kept a bowl of the candy on her desk with the intent that it was for others, when in reality she was addicted to jelly beans.
“Here’s another reference to the church in Ireland. It’s discolored, but if you look at the archive here,” she said as she displayed the scroll for them to see; her arm grazed his which sparked a jolt of emotion through her. “And here,” she said as she pulled out another one. “I think it’s speaking of something that is not of the Guild, but was considered pretty important to the Fae, and if you look at this one,” she continued as she pulled out another scroll and rolled it out in front of him. “This one speaks of the importance of keeping it hidden from the Fae at all cost. Sound like it could be what you’re looking for?” she asked, her hand grazing his as she placed the other slips of ancient paper beside him.
“This is the one Marie spoke to you and Synthia about, right?” he questioned.
“It is,” she said, but she paused and shook her head. “It makes no sense, because it all points to Saint Patrick, but no one knows for sure where he was buried, not to mention he died in the mid-fifth century. You told me that the relics were stolen from Faery when the Templar Knights were still in power. Saint Patrick’s Cathedral in Dublin was originally built around the time their power was starting to decline—wait a second.” She scrunched her nose in puzzlement as she studied several scrolls. “It’s all wrong; look at this,” she said holding up a map. “This points to a stairway, but it’s not on any diagrams of the cathedral. It also leads below the water table, which would make it a stairway into nothing,” she growled with frustration. “It’s stupid, because the water table is so high under the cathedral that the builders decided there could never be a crypt or any catacombs under the actual cathedral itself. The tombs would be ruined; they’d never chance it.”
“Unless it’s a lie, and they want you to think that it was impossible to have catacombs beneath the cathedral,” Ristan pointed out.
“Yes, but the high water table isn’t a lie. It’s been pretty well-documented over the centuries.”
“Look at this place, Olivia,” he said as he used his arms to indicate the room they were in. “There’s no map with these catacombs on it. They’re hidden; the entrances are open to the Guild alone, hidden under the city of Spokane. Each entrance has been memorized by Guild librarians and passed on as tribal knowledge from generation to generation of librarians. Each entrance from the outside leading to the catacombs is concealed with magic, Guild magic. You can’t get around the idea of high water table, and I’m sure they were counting on anyone else being stuck on the same stumbling point that you are. There’s no proof that there isn’t a secret door that leads into an underground room in that cathedral, which means until we can prove it otherwise, we need to believe that they hid the dagger in that church. There’s another church less than a ten-minute walk away, Christ Church, which does have catacombs. I’m willing to bet that they both have more than the public is aware of, because Ireland has always been wrapped in secrets. From the beginning of their history, the land has been coveted. The Fomoire and Tuatha Dé Danann terrified the Gaels and they learned to hide their secrets well. The Roman, Viking, and Norman invaders that came after just solidified their predisposition to hiding their best secrets, usually wrapped in whatever religion prevailed at the time.”
“So you think it’s been purposely kept from the public? It’s a little hard to hide from prying eyes, and over centuries, no less,” she sighed, closing her eyes briefly with as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “The only way this one has remained secret is because the Guild never let the general public in. Those churches are tourist attractions.”
“There is that,” he agreed. “But they wouldn’t have been when those churches were built and I’m not convinced that they wouldn’t have used magic to protect it,” he continued, his eyes slowly looking around the giant room they were in. “Take this place, for example; the exits that lead out into the city are protected by magic. No one outside of the librarians can access those doors because they’ve been spelled.”
Olivia nodded with understanding, but it didn’t solve their problem. “If they’ve been spelled, we won’t be able to open them, either.”
“That’s not entirely correct,” he said impishly. “My magic undoes most spells and wards that an average Witch can cast. When Synthia first entered the Dark Towers, we knew it because her magic pushed against mine. It’s also why being here was such a bitch for me; my magic conflicted with the amount of magic being used daily in the Guild. I think there are either secret rooms, catacombs or more, hidden in the churches in Ireland, because these scrolls not only point to their existence, it also documents that the first Witches Guild had origins in Ireland. We have known where the Guild originated for centuries, but these scrolls confirm what we have suspected all along; that the Guild was created for more than just fighting Fae, and considering that the Mages were hiding here, it’s probable.”
“You know a lot about our history, and considering it’s not public k
nowledge, that’s telling. You don’t look old enough to know everything that you do. Just how old are you?” she asked with her eyes on him and a curious twist on her lips.
“Old enough to know better, young enough to do it twice and see if it gets my rocks off,” he grinned and watched as her mouth curved into a beautiful smile before she giggled openly, which did things to his heart that he wasn’t sure he wanted it to.
“You’re not anything like the Guild told us or taught us to believe. I’ve read a ton of magazines and studied those Fae to an extent, but those ones are more formal. Some even seem as if they are from another time, stuffy and stuck up. So are there more like you, or are they like they appear to be on TV and magazines?” she asked with curiosity gleaming in her eyes.
“Be a bit boring if we were all the same, now wouldn’t it?” he said as he leaned back in his chair, watching her intently as he tried to figure out where she was going with her questions. “Are you the same as every other librarian of the Guild?” he countered.
“I’d like to think I wasn’t,” she admitted. “I’m trying to understand you. I can’t understand a lot of things, and nothing the Guild taught me seems to carry weight. It’s quite scary knowing that I never questioned anything. I just always thought that they were on the right side. It’s difficult to swallow the truth I guess.” She paused, watching him as he stared at her.
“Can I ask you something?” he asked.
“If I can do the same after I’ve finished answering you,” she said with a bright smile.
Ristan felt his heart sink, because people normally only asked him about his family, not caring about him in particular. Of course, he’d never been of the mind to care too much about what people thought. Caring was a dangerous slope.
“In your apartment at the Guild, all of the walls had picture frames, yet every one of them had the stock photos of model families that came with them upon purchase. Why?” he asked, watching as her lips tugged down until she frowned.
“I had planned to fill them,” she admitted. “I was going to get married and give birth to as many babies as I could so that I could fill them all. I was lonely and wanted family,” she laughed softly with the memory. “I started collecting those when I was twelve, and I just never got around to getting rid of them. My turn,” she announced. “What was it like growing up as a child in the Horde?”
“Fine I guess, as long as I remained out of sight,” he said with a shrug. “I heard you teaching the children about the Horde, so I know you understand that the Horde is and will always be the strongest of the Fae and it is true that all of the ‘monsters’ of the Otherworld tend to make up much of the Horde. The Horde appreciates and actively recruits strength and gives safe harbor to those creatures that are not welcomed by the other Fae Castes. Safe harbor does not always mean acceptance, though. Part of the Horde King’s role is to keep the most dangerous of the Otherworld creatures away from the weak, so it is best that they stay with the Horde,” he said and swallowed hard. “My father was brutal. We may be the strongest and the deadliest of the Fae, but the Horde itself is not evil as everyone says.”
“Your father was,” she whispered, her mind mentally perusing a full set of archives that had been dedicated to the carnage they knew had been done by the Horde King.
“He wasn’t stable, and he knew it, I think,” he admitted. He wasn’t sure why he was speaking of his father with her, only that it didn’t give him that sick feeling he normally got when he spoke of Alazander. “When I was just a child, he tried to kill me on several occasions.”
“That’s horrible,” she gasped. “He was your father!”
“He has a lot of children,” he said softly, his eyes unfocused on her and looked away briefly. “He took the things that his wife and concubines loved, and tore them apart. For my mother, it was what she was, one of the most fierce and proud Demon princesses of the Soul-Seeking Demon clan. He took her horns, tail, and wings shortly after she arrived here. Once I arrived, he went after me. I was her only child, so he used me to get her to be submissive and compliant with anything he wanted. He did it to them all, and a few went insane or catatonic, like Ryder’s mother. He was the hardest on her, from what my mother said. He gave her three children before she went crazy. Ryder saved my ass more than I care to admit, but that’s how life was.” He swallowed the painful memory and continued. “My father hated me, and I’m sure it was because I took after my mother’s side instead of his, which was illogical, as all Fae take after the mother and they inherit the brands of their father. He continued trying to kill me, until one day the Goddess asked me to become her servant, and I willingly accepted in exchange for the protection of myself and my mother.”
“The brand, the one on your chest, is it her mark?” she asked as her eyes lowered to the spot which was concealed by his shirt.
“She accepted my vow and almost immediately I began to have visions of the future. The visions didn’t protect us from my father, although it did change my value to him. Something that is not common knowledge with the Guild is the change that the Fae go through when they come into their magic. Transition. The High Fae didn’t know about the Demon Haze and assumed that my father’s blood would win out in this when it came my time to go through Transition. I killed four females. Violently, and I don’t remember much of it,” he said as he made a disgusted noise. “It was such a fucking waste. The Demon awoke; he was starving, and they died because of arrogance and ignorance that could have easily been prevented.” He was startled as her soft hand wrapped around his.
“That’s sad,” she whispered, and he looked up to find her eyes wet, and no damnation as he’d expected her to have in them for him after hearing his tale. “What happened when they discovered that you’d accidently killed them?”
“I couldn’t change back to Fae. For about two or more hours I was stuck in my full Demon form. That’s when my father took them from me. Everything that made me a Demon, he took. My skin still turns red, and I have a nice set of fangs that tend to show when I fight; that wasn’t something he could take away and for the most part, I have learned to control it. Unfortunately, he couldn’t take the hunger that had been awoken from feeding off of souls, and he compounded the problem by forbidding me from soul-feeding in Faery. Ryder brought me here, trying to keep me alive. It became something he did for me often until I learned to open portals on my own. I’ve been trying to control the Demon for centuries, just skimming souls so that it doesn’t kill by taking the entire soul. It’s not common for Demons to be able to hold back the hunger, but somehow I manage. It’s a bitch to harness it; he’s always there, waiting. I don’t think it’s anything like what my brother has to deal with since he killed our father, so I don’t complain about it. Can’t change genetics, even with the Fae,” he said, watching as she continued to watch him, her sapphire eyes wide with acceptance, and not a trace of revulsion.
“Has it ever fed from me?” she surprised him by asking. “I mean, I know that when the Fae feed, their eyes glow. I noticed it when you were…” She paused as if she was looking for the right words.
“When I fucked you,” he said with a sardonic smile on his lips. “Say it, sweet lips. Fucking. I fucked you. I enjoy fucking you. You fucking get me,” he said and they both laughed. “To answer your question, yes, I’ve fed from your soul. It’s unlike the others I’ve nibbled at, and that’s all I took. I don’t dare take more, because as I do, it becomes harder to stop at just a nibble. I can feed from fucking, or emotions, but the Demon has to be fed as well,” he concluded.
“I taste different?” she asked, her eyes wide with surprise.
“I’ve not tasted too many Witches; they are not easily seduced by their enemies.”
“Do I taste good, at least?” she asked with a worried look.
“You taste like heaven wrapped up in a bowl full of sinful deliciousness.”
&nbs
p; “That’s a strange combination,” she laughed as Ristan watched her. “What happens when you take a piece of the soul?” she asked softly.
“They regenerate. Most take a bit of time to heal, but yours heals more quickly than most. It could be whatever else is mixed in your genealogy, or it could be simply because you’re a Witch. As I said, I have not made it a habit to feed from Witches.”
Olivia felt horrified by what he had told her, but it had created this beautiful creature who hadn’t hurt her, and had actually been gentle with her since day one.
“Do you miss him?” she asked.
“Who?”
“Your father,” she continued. “I have never had one, so I don’t miss him since I never was given the chance to know him. You lost him though, and even though he was pretty much Satan wrapped up in Fairy dust, he was your father.”
“No; in fact I helped Ryder kill him, and don’t regret it even for a moment. I hated him and he hated me solely because my mother is a Demon and I took after her. Demons aren’t exactly accepted by the Fae. Most Fae, anyway. My brothers don’t care what I am, but my father took that hatred to extremes. Growing up, that was something I had to come to terms with pretty damn quickly. I decided that they could fuck themselves if they didn’t want me around. I found ways to insinuate myself in with them, eventually. The sight from Danu was a blessing, as well as a curse. No one should have to see some of the shit I have seen in my lifetime… It was valuable though, and needed. I may have been through some shit, and trust me, it wasn’t easy to go through, but I did find a way through it. Kind of like you. You didn’t feel like you belonged; you were shy and you retreated. From what I saw at the Guild, it was like you didn’t want to attract attention. You also didn’t have anyone who recognized what you were going through. I at least had two brothers that supported me as a child. I figured out a way to force myself into any situation I wanted to be involved in and other ways around the rules I thought were unfair. Things have changed for the better since Ryder killed him, and we have been working to get the Horde back to what it once was since the day our father died. The Mages are fucking the plan up big time, though. Finding the relics that the Templars stole will go a long way towards righting a lot of wrong, Olivia,” he said softly.
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