Escaping the Demon's Trap + bonus content

by Woods, Martha

  He stands and scoops me up in his arms, and I can’t help giggling a little. There is a tremble in his muscles as if he is doing his best to control himself.

  “Amy.” My name comes out a sigh. He looks down at me, and I’m in a trance staring up at his eyes. “You don’t know how badly—”

  I cut him off by wrapping my arms around his neck and drawing him down for a kiss. I don’t want to talk anymore, I just want to feel. I’m tired of always being afraid, of feeling pain, of being confused. In his arms things seem right. As if I was always meant to be in them. I have been dreaming about being with Damon, and it’s like my dreams are coming true inside this nightmare.

  He lays me gently on the bed, pulling away from me. I sit up and watch him slowly begin to remove his shirt. I take in the sight of all those muscles; I look at the various scars he has been hiding underneath his clothes. Each one must tell a different story. I crawl to the edge of the bed, grab the hem of his jeans, and pull him close. I press a kiss against his lips before trailing my mouth downward. I kiss each one of those scars, bringing a little hiss from his throat. He’s trembling under my touch.

  “I’m going to lose control if you keep that up,” he says, his voice a low growl. I don’t stop, letting my lips lead me, trailing my tongue over a long scar on his lower stomach. He grabs me then, pulling me up and pressing my lips to his, allowing me to feel his hunger. He pulls my shirt up over my head and unsnaps my bra in what feels like one movement. He pushes me back against his bed, kissing me and letting his hands explore my bare skin. His chest is flushed against mine, and I gasp. The mere touch of our skin together is setting me on fire. I run my hands over his back as he begins to kiss down my neck, raising himself enough so he can kiss lower on me. One of his hands gently massages my breast while his mouth starts to work on the other, gently bringing my nipple into his lips. He applies a little bit of pressure with his teeth, and I’m wiggling underneath him. I feel him chuckle against my skin as he presses kisses between my breasts, and then his mouth takes the other in between his lips. My back arches up for him to take more in his mouth. His tongue flicks back and forth; a moan escapes my lips. His hands move towards to my pants and fumble with the button before pulling them off, along with my panties, in one fluid motion.

  I’m naked now, and he stands up to stare down at me. He has already seen me nude before, but this time it feels like he is devouring me with his eyes. There is nothing but lust and want in his gaze. I wiggle a bit beneath it, and he presses me back against the bed again. His hand is moving down towards my sex, parting the lips.

  “Damon,” I plead, and he continues his caress. He slips a finger inside of me, and I’m like putty in his hands. I can see him rising in his jeans and I close my eyes to just let the pleasure overwhelm me.

  He leans down against me and kisses my cheek, nuzzling his face against mine. I can feel the scratchy stubble and slowly open my eyes to gaze up into his.

  “Don’t close your eyes,” he says. He steps back and removes his jeans so I can take in all of him. I can see where the scar my tongue had been on before leads. I can see how muscular his legs are, and also the scars they bare. His member is hard and looks like it is straining. I swallow. He looks large, but I can also feel how wet he has made me.

  “Bad time to ask, but are you on birth control?” He strokes himself idly – I’m mesmerized.

  “Yes,” the word is barely out of my mouth before his naked body is pressed against mine. I move my hips against his sex, and he positions it to enter inside of mine. He moves inside of me slowly, filling me up. I let out a gasp when he is sheathed entirely in me.

  “Amy,” he says against my ear. We rest there together, our breathing labored, just enjoying the feeling of becoming one. I can’t think of anything else but the feel of Damon inside of me. It is better than any daydreams I had. He begins to move slowly, pushing his arms up so he can stare down at me. I look up at him, moving my legs a little wider to give him more room to move inside of me.

  My legs move to lock above his hips so I can push him deeper. We both begin to pick up a rhythm as he moves in and out. My breaths come out shallow; I forget how to breathe because all I can concentrate on is the feel of him in me. With each thrust it is like he is burning away all the negative emotions that have been pulling at my brain, instead filling it with pleasure. We find a rhythm together, moving faster, I can feel my climax building inside. I’m saying his name, and he’s moaning mine. My orgasm hits me, and I’m clinging to him, my nails raking down his back. I feel him spill inside of me with one last thrust before falling down on top of me, his breathing labored. I can hear his heart racing as fast as mine. We lie there like that, waiting for our bodies to calm down before he slowly slips out of me and lies down beside me. He pulls me to his side, and I rest my head against his chest. My mind is a whirlwind, and I can’t keep the silly grin off my face as the endorphins overcome me.

  “You okay?” Damon asks.

  I turn and press a chaste kiss on his lips before snuggling my body against him again.

  “I haven’t felt this good in a long time,” I say.

  He laughs at me, running his hands through my hair and tossing his head back in a sigh.

  “Come on, let's get a shower. And not to put a damper on the mood, but we’ve got a werewolf to kill.”

  I frown as he helps me out of bed. The moment of bliss is fading as I realize it is dark outside. I follow him into the shower, where he takes care to touch me any way he possibly can. We kiss each other, hold each other, and let the hot water beat down on top of us, trying to make the moment last as long as possible.

  Chapter 12

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  We are barely out of the shower and only half-dressed when there is an angry knocking at the door. It sounds like whoever is knocking is about to break down the door and could easily do it. Damon’s hair is still wet, and he’s not fully dressed, but he walks casually to the door, holding his gun, and looks through the peephole as I towel dry my hair and watch from the bedroom door.

  “It’s Vincent,” he says, not sounding pleased.

  “Well, let him in,” I say, surprised Vincent didn’t decide to go through Damon’s balcony like he had mine.

  Damon opens the door and Vincent is standing there, looking pissed. He lets out a hiss, showing his fangs at Damon before he spots me and tries to make himself look more human.

  “I see you two have been keeping busy in a time of crisis,” he snarls.

  “Jealous?” Damon says, always there to poke the bear with a stick.

  My cheeks flush because I know that Vincent is completely aware of what Damon and I were just doing. He still just stands in the doorway without barging inside like I expect him to.

  “Aren’t you going to come in?” I ask.

  “I can’t,” he says, the frustration showing on his face.

  “My door has runes on it; nothing supernatural can enter. Faye blessed the door for me so I don’t have to worry about uninvited visitors,” Damon says, not hiding the glee from his voice.

  “It’s most annoying.”

  “Could your apartment keep Elric out?” I ask.

  “Yes, but that doesn’t keep him from harming others,” Damon says with some reluctance. He knows what we have to do, and neither of us looks forward to it.

  “We need to talk and form a plan,” I say. “I think that means we need to go into my apartment.”

  I don’t want to go in there. Damon comes to my side and squeezes my hand. I towards the door and Vincent, who is looking as arrogant as he can manage. He won’t look me in the eye, and I’m at once okay with that and also slightly disturbed. Somehow I feel sorry for Vincent, and I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t feel badly for a vampire, but something deep inside of me wants to reach out and embrace him. He’s not doing a good job of hiding all his emotions, and I can sense an undercurrent of jealousy beneath his masked face.

&n
bsp; “Does he keep the nightmares away?” he asks quietly when I come close to him.

  “We weren’t exactly sleeping in there,” I say, trying to be cheeky, but that damn blood rises to my cheeks. Vincent’s hand hovers at the door like there is an invisible force field there. He wants to touch me; a part of me wants him to. Damon is suddenly behind me, putting his arm around my waist, drawing me to him as if marking me as his property. I don’t like that. I pull away, walking through the door and brushing past Vincent.

  “Come on, we don’t have much time before he kills again,” I say as I head towards my apartment, and the two men follow me.

  When I open my front door, Vincent freezes, one foot over the threshold, looking around as if seeing things no human eye could. Then he looks at me, and I can see him struggling with his emotions again before looking down at the floor.

  “I am sorry. I did little to protect you. I didn’t think he would come if you weren’t here.” His words come out a rasp. The apology is heartfelt, and I feel like I should acknowledge it, but I don’t know what to say. I touch his shoulder instead. He looks up at me, and there are tears in his eyes. I can almost see the human he was.

  “His death will be apology enough,” I say softly.

  Vincent gives a curt nod and stands up straighter. Damon is busy laying out all sorts of weapons on my kitchen table. Swords, knives, guns. On the blades, he begins to pour some of the holy water from Faye, which makes Vincent hiss and take a step back.

  “You two have a plan then,” he says.

  “Yeah. We talked to a witch today. Apparently, I can call up the girls Elric has killed, and they’ll lead me to him. I don’t have to be asleep to do it. I just need to say their names,” I tell him.

  “So you’ll be going straight to the werewolf?” Vincent asks.

  “With you two as backup,” I say.

  “I do not like this plan,” he addresses Damon.

  “Neither do I, but nothing else has worked,” Damon says. “He killed her dog to get at her, who knows who he will go for next?”

  “I want the nightmares to stop,” I say.

  That gets Vincent. He starts pacing my apartment. It’s difficult for my eyes to follow his movements. He is moving so quickly he seems to blur. He’s not working on acting human, or maybe he’s just displaying to Damon how powerful he is.

  “Stop,” I tell him. He freezes mid-step and looks back at me.

  “You’re making me dizzy watching you.”

  “So your plan is that we let Amy take us to Elric, then we both work to kill him,” Vincent says.

  “Our plan,” I interject.

  “You are not equipped to fight a werewolf,” Vincent says. “When the fight starts you run.”

  “I’m not a runner,” I protest.

  “He’s right, Amy, because if he catches you—”

  “He has us as well. He’s found a weakness and he will draw it out. I would prefer locking you in Damon’s apartment and hunting him down,” Vincent says.

  “But you can’t find him,” I say.

  “No, I can’t, which is the only reason I’m letting you do this.”

  Letting me do this? Well, apparently his arrogance is back. I hate that he is talking about me like I’m just property of his, a little toy that intrigues him, that he doesn’t want to get broken. But then again, he’s a vampire, and I’m just dinner.

  “Are we all okay with this so we can start the hunt?” Damon says as he starts to place the blades on him. The sword is strapped to his back. He has two guns at his waist, with a clip full of silver bullets. I’m not sure where all the knives have disappeared to.

  “Yeah, I’m ready,” I say, but my gut begins to sink. I feel a tingle of fear crawl up my spine. I’m about to do something truly dangerous with only police training and a few days’ exposure to the supernatural. It seems wildly insufficient. I’ve never even killed an animal before, never hurt a human, and here I am about to go out and slaughter a werewolf. Looking at both Damon and Vincent, I imagine they will do the majority of the slaughtering. I just have to believe in their abilities.

  I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and the visions of those dead girls come easily. I reach out a hand to one in my mind and say her name.

  “Jane,” it comes out a weak whisper. The room suddenly becomes icy. I watch both men tense up. I open my eyes, and there she is before me, a decaying angel.

  “You must free us,” she says.

  “I’m trying. You have to take me where he is,” I say.

  “Is she here?” Damon asks.

  “Something is here,” Vincent mutters.

  “I will show you, but I cannot help you,” she says. She reaches out a hand that is skeletal, rotted, with tendons clinging to it. Why do the ghosts of the dead seem to decay quicker than their actual bodies? It is a question I will have to ask Faye another day.

  I take Jane’s hand, and I feel her veins wrap tightly up my wrist like snakes. I try to pull back, but I can’t move. She begins to walk, and I am forced to follow, my two guards trailing behind me, though it is only Damon’s steps I hear.

  “Help us,” Jane whispers as the cold chill of death makes a hole in my heart.

  Chapter 13

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  We walk out of the apartment complex and towards a sewer drain. She points down at it, and I kneel and try to pry it up, only to be nudged aside by Vincent. He picks it up like it is a poker chip and tosses it to the side. Damon flips on a flashlight and shines it down into the murk before going down the manhole. I start down the ladder, but Jane tugs at me insistently, and I slip, falling backward only to have Vincent’s strong arms there to catch me. When did he even get down here?

  It smells like rot; my shoes are immediately full of sewage. It is about ankle high, but the smell is covering me like a cloak. I don’t have time to be disgusted as Jane pulls me forward. I begin to feel the others trailing with her; I can’t see them in the light of Damon’s flashlight, but I know they are there. I swear I can hear the maggots from their eyes dropping into the water as we walk.

  “Charming place,” Damon mutters.

  “He has access to any place in the city, can move during the day without detection. This is an ideal location for him to dwell,” Vincent says.

  “Where do you sleep?” I ask.

  “In more comfortable conditions, I assure you. I have little reason to hide,” he replies.

  There are so many twists and turns. I can’t keep track of where we are going. I’m lost after only a few turns and hope the other two are better at tracking where we are going then I am. Jane comes to a sudden halt, and I nearly trip over my own feet, but I catch myself at the last minute. I feel the tendrils leaving my arm, and she turns to face me.

  “He allows us no further. He is ahead,” she says, and I watch her as she begins to vanish.

  “Wait! Why are you trapped here?”

  “He is death. Do not become one of us, Amy,” she says before I can feel nothing but the coldness.

  “He’s ahead,” I whisper, but the words barely get out of my mouth before I feel strong arms dragging me forward at a speed much too fast to be natural. Claws dig into my arm painfully, and I let out a scream because there is little else I can do. I hear Damon and Vincent call my name, but they seem so far away. The tunnels become a blur before everything turns black.

  Then there is light, a curtain of red, a bed of black. The sewage in this area seems to be blocked out, forming a river around a strange living quarters. Still, the smell permeates every molecule, and I suddenly understand the stench that accompanied Bella’s mutilated remains. In the center of the room, there is a chair with straps attached to it, and I’m thrown into it. Before I can let out a word of protest, I feel my legs being strapped down to the chair’s legs, my arms to its arms. It’s made of metal, and I look down to see it is bolted to the floor. Whoever is doing this, I can’t see them, they’r
e moving so quickly.

  “Let me go,” I manage to get out, but all I hear is laughter.

  “So, she comes to me,” says a voice. The shadows seem to part, and I look at the figure of my nightmares. He is bald, his face looks as if it has half been burnt off. He wears a leather jacket, a white shirt, and a pair of blue jeans. But there is something off about his proportions, as if I’m viewing his through a funhouse mirror. The creature does little to hide his canines. They are thick, sharp, discolored, lacking the precision of Vincent’s fangs. I want to look away, but he grabs my head and forces me to stare into yellowing, deranged eyes.

  “Amy, you couldn’t have made this easier. Following the ghosts right to me. And all this time I thought you were trying to ignore them. Don’t worry, you can join them…after a few hours. I’m feeling leisurely today. I have so much time to play with you,” he says, tangling his fingers in my hair and jerking my head back. I am immobile, I can’t struggle as his canines brush against my check. His breath smells of rancid meat. Another harsh tug makes me cry out, and he shoves his tongue down my throat. It tastes metallic, of fresh blood.

  “I’ve been holding that just for you,” he says as he stands straighter. “How do you like the taste of your dog?”

  I begin to gag. I try to spit it out, but he holds my jaw closed, bruising my face. My fear is through the roof, my heart beats so fast it might give me a heart attack. I plead that it does; I don’t know what else this monster will do to me. I’ve already decided I’d rather die than find out. I swallow just so he will let go and try to keep the bile down.

  “Crying already? Oh, we have just begun,” he says, moving his hand to catch a tear that trails down my cheek. He licks it off his finger.