Demon Spelled

by Gracen Miller

  “Hours. Troz was in your skin and said you needed the rest. That’s the only reason I didn’t panic.”

  A warm feeling stole over her and settled in her chest. She cleared her throat, but her voice still emerged raspy. “You worried for me?”

  “Of course.” Troz sounded less than pleased by that question. “You’re precious to us.”

  Lyx leaned over her back so he could look at her face. “You’re more than just a sex-pet, Sanja. You’re milien zariena.” That she could be heaven to a demon, well…how could that not affect her?

  “You must know that by now, angel.” Troz trailed his fingers along her arm in wispy caresses.

  Regardless what Sanja knew or thought she knew, she liked hearing them confess their devotion.

  “Thank you for trusting me enough to restrain you.”

  She smiled. She’d enjoyed being restrained and at their mercy more than she’d have imagined. More than she was comfortable admitting.

  Her purple demon grazed his teeth down her spine. “And for complimenting our lovemaking by blacking out.”

  “I lost control because the sex was too intense.” When she would’ve pushed up, Troz tightened his grip on her and Lyx placed a hand to her lower back.

  “You trusted us enough to lose control.” He licked the globe of one ass-cheek, and she winced. “You’re sore here?” His tongue glided along her abused flesh.

  “Yes.”

  “You wear my handprint all over your bottom. Sexy.”

  She could think of sexier things. Her two men for starters.

  Lyx ran his tongue along her abused cheeks, and she held herself stationary, tiny whimpers leeching from her throat, but her pussy began to throb. Typical. Everything they did to her aroused her. Even during his punishment she’d came from his spanking. That couldn’t be normal.

  Just as his tongue slid through the crease of her ass, she asked, “Does my father live?”

  Beneath her Troz tensed.

  Lyx’s play ended.

  “Why do you ask,” Troz’s deep voice rumbled from beneath her ear.

  “I want to see him.” It was more a need, and not a want.

  “No.” Lyx moved away from her, and she sensed his emotional withdrawal more keenly than his physical extraction.

  She rolled off Troz, surprised he allowed her defection, and settled on her back, gingerly wiggling her bottom until she found a comfortable placement against the sheets.

  Lyx rested on his knees, his orange gaze hard and unflinching.

  She met his stare head on. “I need questions answered.” She’d been made to forget everything about the night her father had come for her. It’d been obvious her mother reneged on a deal with the archangel. Sybil was inaccessible, but her newly discovered father was very handy. Living a lifetime without answers would leave her with a hole. She had to know the semantics of her parents’ deal and her father’s intentions.

  Troz slid off the mattress. As he rounded the foot of the bed, he said, “The answer’s no. End of discussion.”

  She faced Lyx, determined to convince him so he could plead her case to Troz. Before she could sputter one word, Lyx leaned over and placed his nose against hers.

  “Prod us further and I’ll take more than my hand to your backside.” Lyx’s voice held a dark edge she would’ve considered pushing if not for the promise in his eyes she feared to test.

  “And I’ll leave you in a state of sexual frustration until you’re cross-eyed.” Those were Troz’s final words as he stepped into the bathroom and shut the door.

  Biting her tongue, she offered Lyx a scant nod.

  A smile stretched his lips, but it didn’t meet his eyes. He exited the bed as the sound of the shower came on in the other room.

  Bare-assed naked, Lyx strode to the table, which was loaded with trays of food. Breakfast would be served in the bedroom it seemed, rather than the kitchen.

  Not in a million years would she have thought she’d think a purple, red-haired, orange-eyed demon would be sexy, but she could define Lyx no other way. These were her men, as much as she was their woman. It didn’t matter that her relationship with them started off in a nontraditional manner. All that mattered was that they’d found one another.

  “Coffee, milien zariena?” He held up a carafe, and she nodded. As he poured, she slid across the bed to join him. “Stay. I’ll serve you.”

  “I’m not an invalid, Lyx.”

  “I want to serve you.” He set the coffee pot down and added sugar and cream to her mug. “It pleases me. You please me.”

  A domesticated demon…such a surreal reality most probably wouldn’t believe. Her demons doted on her, pampered her, and performed mundane tasks like fixing her coffee for her. That they both knew how she took the brew said more than words. Their actions indicated they took notice of her preferences.

  “Troz and I don’t trust your father.”

  Neither do I.

  “Our decision is meant to protect you.”

  She understood their motivation, but the answers she sought could only come from him.

  Lyx brought her a tray of food and her coffee. He waited patiently for her to sit up so he could set the platter on her lap.

  “Thank you. Y’all pamper me too much, Lyx.”

  “Never enough.” The backs of his fingers feathered across her cheek. “Give me your questions, and I’ll ask them of him.”

  For once him being in her head didn’t bother her. “It won’t be enough. I needed to see him to gauge his responses.” So many things could be evaluated from a person’s expression.

  He kissed her forehead. “Would you enjoy spending the day with Tiara? Without a chaperone?”

  Sanja slathered pomino jelly on her toast. She peeked at him and teased, “You trust us together without a witness?”

  “Considering the antics I’ve witnessed you two indulge in from your memories, I probably shouldn’t. You’re trouble makers.” Using his fingertips, he tapped her forehead and winked. “But I’m always listening in.”

  Working hard to keep her features neutral, she set her butter knife on the tray and bit into the toast. Mmm…pomino jelly, better than the taste of my demons’ cocks. She cut her eyes at him and hoped he realized her thoughts were teasing and not in the least serious.

  Lyx chuckled. “Minx.”

  “You listened in on purpose.”

  “Teasing me will have repercussions.”

  She met his eyes. His features were devoid of expression. She couldn’t discern if he were serious or joking as well. On a whim, she decided to not take him the least bit seriously. “What type of repercussions?”

  She set her toast on the plate and elevated her coffee to her mouth.

  Lyx flicked his finger through the pomino jelly and smeared the substance on a nipple. Holding her gaze, he licked the jam off.

  Hand trembling with the mug suspended mid-air, the contents threatened to spill all over her and the bedding.

  He plucked the cup from her hand and settled the mug on the tray. “You’ll have to wait and see since I haven’t the time to play. But maybe you covered in pomino jelly, me licking it off, and you begging for me to take you will be a nice start.”

  She could get on board with that.

  He kissed her and stood. “A dressmaker will visit today to finish the sizing of your outfit for tomorrow’s party. Take a shower or a bath, then have Fairy send for Tiara.”

  She’d have to tease him more in the future.

  SANJA APPLIED A stroke to the charcoal drawing she worked on, images of her men from memory. She wanted to surprise them with artwork tomorrow evening at their party to officially introduce her to their Queen. All pomp at this stage since she’d recently met the woman. Facing off with their family again worried her more.

  Artwork wouldn’t impress them. The talent probably wasn’t even revered here in Baal the way it was on Earth. None of that mattered. Impressing her men was all that mattered.

  The seam
stress had worked on a gown for Tiara also, which surprised Sanja when she learned her men would allow her friend to join her. Having Tiara at her side would alleviate some of her anxiety.

  “So….” Tiara leaned a hip against the balcony while gazing out at the vibrant landscape. “How’d you talk your captors into giving us time alone?”

  Smudging the line with her fingertip, she peeked at her BFF. “They’re good to me.” Her friend snorted and before she could say more, Sanja said, “You’ve been my best friend for half my life. Don’t make me chose between you and them.”

  Tiara turned away from the view to contemplate her with a long stare.

  Sanja went back to her art. There’d been a time when the silence would’ve bothered her, but not any more. The assumptions Tiara would craft mattered little to her. Baal was her new home and her men her life.

  “You’re in love with them.”

  The statement halted Sanja’s hand, and she lowered her arm to her lap. She met her friend’s gaze. “Yes.”

  “Are they worthy of it?”

  A smile twitched at the corners of her lips. “Am I worthy of them?”

  “Hell, yes.” Tiara pushed away from the bannister, the wind tugging at her blonde hair. She dropped to her knees beside Sanja. “You are the best person I know. I’ve never understood why you can’t see how amazing you are. And I’ve yet to meet anyone that was good enough for you. I don’t think those demons are good enough for you, but”—she held her hand up to stave off Sanja’s arguments—“if you love them, they can’t be all bad, so I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt.”

  “Thank you.” She squeezed Tiara’s hand. “Once you get to know them, you’ll see how amazing they are.”

  Tiara scrunched up her nose, suggesting she doubted that outcome, but she didn’t outright dismiss the possibility, so Sanja was pleased.

  THE NEXT MORNING the guys made her dress in a rush without comment as to where they were taking her. Troz teleported her to an airy locale and Lyx joined them, wrapping his arm around her waist to snuggle her against his side. The mountainous view stunned the eye with a burst of majestic colors. Not a single hue went unrepresented from the color wheel. And, if she guessed correctly, the peaks of the mountains were capped with pale pink snow.

  Wind tugged at her hair and whipped at her clothing as raptors squawked overhead. A heap of something dropped at their feet. Covered in a yellow oozing substance, the blob wiggled. Unfamiliar with the monsters in Baal, Sanja pressed closer to Lyx’s side. She knew her men would protect her, but she didn’t want the thing even touching the tips of her toes.

  Limbs formed and before long she could make out the outline of a body. She covered her mouth with her fist to stifle her gasp.

  “Th—this is how demons are tortured?” Why’d her men show her this horror?

  “Select few receive this punishment.” Troz caught her hand and removed her fist from her mouth. He kissed her knuckles. “It’s your father.”

  She blinked up at him.

  My father?

  Numb with the realization this constant state of agony had become her father’s fate, she gaped at Troz. They’d been adamant against allowing her a visit with him. Why the change of heart?

  She glanced at Lyx, but gleaned zilch from his unreadable expression.

  “My prodigy,” her father rasped like his voicebox was filled with rattling bones. Disgust created grooves from the corners of his mouth, or maybe that was a result of his regeneration. “Slumming with the enemy.”

  “Yes. You.”

  He laughed, the gravelly sound grating along her skin like wire. “So much potential….” He remained slouched at her feet without any indication he planned to attempt to stand.

  “Why?” The reply to that one question would answer every question she ever had.

  “Why not?”

  “Answer her question.” Feet shoulder width apart, Troz glared at her parent.

  “Release me and I will.”

  Lyx’s arm slid up her spine and palmed her nape. “You’ll receive a reprieve from the raptors for your time. You know the alternative.” He executed a languid nod at the circling creatures that squawked as if angry for the larceny of their prey.

  For what seemed like hours, Lyx and Michael engaged in a stare-off. Amazed that he challenged Lyx this way, she could’ve told him Lyx wouldn’t relent.

  Face almost wholly healed, her parent slid his gray gaze to her. “You’re a bomb. Your blood the detonator.”

  Sanja flinched. Even before her birth she’d been only a tool. A life intended as a weapon born with the single purpose to cause mass genocide. Thank God her mother came to her senses and reneged on her deal with him. But what’d it say about her mother’s state of mind at the conception of their contract? What’d induced such hate in her?

  “You would’ve killed her?” The hard edge to Troz’s tone could’ve sliced through titanium, but her father seemed oblivious.

  “Sacrificed, not killed. There’s a difference.”

  “You sacrifice something you love.” Troz’s grip tightened on her hand, but in contradiction to his agitation, he ran her knuckles along his jaw. “You planned to murder her.”

  Her father’s carefree attitude failed to alleviate Troz’s mood. “Angels and demons.”

  In her head she interpreted that as ‘apples and oranges’.

  “How does she work as a bomb?” Lyx’s grip on her neck tightened just a fraction. When Troz shot him a dark look, he clarified, “So we won’t accidently detonate her.”

  Troz relaxed marginally and returned to glaring at Michael.

  “In Baal, she’s useless. She only works with Hell’s unique atmosphere.”

  Sanja breathed a sigh of relief. Knowing she could accidentally ignite and kill her men would’ve had her living on eggshells.

  “She’s not useless.” Troz kissed her knuckles again, and she peered up at him. “She’s made two demons happier than they ever believed possible.”

  “I love you,” she mouthed to him.

  He pressed his lips against hers, and her DNA donor groaned. The kiss was chaste, but heartfelt. “Any other questions for him, angel?”

  Curiosity over the deal her parents had made no longer mattered and however Sybil would’ve benefited from the contract was unimportant. “No.”

  LATER THAT AFTERNOON, Pinkie flitted about Sanja, her little wings fluttering like a hummingbird making buzzing resonances. The outfit designed for the party tonight clung to Sanja’s frame and shimmered like a rainbow in direct light, but in the shadows it appeared royal blue. The material was softer than silk against her skin. Like nothing she’d ever worn before.

  The garment stopped mid-thigh, but after being naked so long, wearing clothing felt odd.

  “Perfection,” the Fairy said, clapping her hands. “Wearing this color The Thirteen’s family will unders—”

  “You’re dismissed, Fairy,” Troz said from behind them. Startled, Pinkie squealed and disappeared with a slight humming sound.

  Sanja met his gaze in the mirror’s reflection. As always he wore only pants. They looked to be of the same material she wore. But a band encircled his throat, the material reflective like their clothing.

  She turned to face him as he strode toward her.

  “You’re wearing the color of our house, angel.” She smiled as Troz lifted his hand and ran his thumb along her cheek.

  “We should’ve asked you to accept our protection, milien zariena.” Lyx entered the room, dressed identical to Troz. “But we took the liberty of dressing you in the shade instead.”

  Hmm…they were acting very formal, and she couldn’t pinpoint why. She glanced between them.

  “I proudly wear your color.” She fingered the fabric. “It means everyone present will know I belong to you two.” It also meant they staked their claim on her publically. That thrilled her and gave her hope they would one day return her affection.

  Troz caught her arm with the slave
band and quickly disengaged the locks. He chucked the armlet over his shoulder. The item hit the floor with a loud thunk.

  Lyx flattened it beneath his booted foot.

  Troz caressed her newly bared skin with his hands, and Sanja swallowed the sudden lump in her throat.

  Without the armlet she felt naked, but not knowing why he removed the bracelet, she remained silent and waited. She had zero doubt of their intentions to keep her.

  “I strip you of your slave status.” Holding her hand, Troz dropped to his knee and tilted his head back to gaze at her. “You’re free.”

  Sanja gasped. They were giving her the boot.

  “Not exactly.” Lyx caught her other hand with his and went to his knees before her, directly beside Troz. Her purple demon lifted his free hand and cupped in his palm was another armlet, bearing the color of their house and etched in intricate gold designs. The band seemed almost identical to the ones they wore about their neck. “You have a choice to make, Sanja. Marry us and wear our armlet”—he nodded at the bracelet in his palm—“signifying our marriage.”

  Troz cleared his throat. “If you decline to wed us, we’ll set you up in a home with enough money to live out eternity in style.”

  Tears stung her eyes and blurred her vision. “I am already both of yours.”

  “That’s not an answer,” Troz said, his voice dark and solemn.

  “Try to get rid of me. Just try.” She went to her knees before them, palming both of their cheeks. “I love you both. I’d proudly show off your slave armlet, marking me as yours. I don’t need anything more from either of you.”

  “We want to marry you.” Lyx ran his fingers through her hair. “We never thought to marry another, but we’re dissatisfied with only having children with you.”

  “You carry our child now.”

  Sanja’s breath froze in her lungs at Troz’s comment. Baby? Already? How’d they know when she had no clue?

  Lyx nodded. “That’s right, milien zariena, you’ll bear us a child. But that’s not why we want to marry you. We wish to honor you with our devotion. Through marriage all of Baal will know your place in our life, and they’ll respect you as they would another born of this world.”