Lock & Portal (My Demon Bound Book 1)

by Jade Bones

  Daerek’s face shutters closed, and when he whispers, “What do you want from me?”, it isn’t to me.

  Both of us are deprived of an answer when the door opens. Wind rushes in, but all I can see behind the demon who opened it is the dim twilight of where we were before. Are we in a room off the side of the pit? The door slams too quickly to tell.

  The demon who flies in doesn’t look anything like a ghost, and when he grins I highly doubt he’s following a limited set of orders—guard and defend—like the spectres.

  “Bad. Fucking. Timing,” I hiss at him. “Two minutes more, and maybe we’d be out of here, but no.”

  The demon sniffs the air, and it’s with a rising sense of horror that I realize he’s sniffing me. “Strong,” he murmurs. “She’ll last us a century at least—far more than she’d have done when drained from afar.” He turns to Daerek. “Did you bring her to us, brother?”

  Daerek fucking snarls, and the sound does something to me.

  Come on. I’m only human.

  I’ve never seen him like this. It should be fear running through my veins—he looks just like the soldier demons, wild and dangerous. But it isn’t fear.

  This feels more like his true face than his demon one. Fierce, merciless. Knowing he’s by my side, I feel truly powerful.

  But the demon in the doorway isn’t afraid. “Excellent work, brother,” he murmurs. “Next time we will summon her again.”

  The room flickers, its ghostly decay revealing itself, but this demon remains solid. He’s no ghost.

  He’s the ghosts’ caretaker, and I’m about to be the battery.

  The caretaker demon holds out his palm towards me, and the blue light that normally appears around Daerek when he feeds coats his skin.

  The demon begins to feed, and it burns me from the inside out.

  Eight

  Daerek

  Okay, mystery voice—now would be a wonderful time to finish that conversation.

  The guard twists his hand, making Stacey scream louder, but no strange women speaking in my head appear. It’s only me. I’m all she’s got.

  If I were at full power, I could turn these chains to dust, but my power is already so low from the fight, I barely have enough in me to give the demon a static shock.

  “Fucking let her go!” I yell at him.

  He looks across at me, mild confusion evident in the dip of his eyebrow, but I’m not important enough for him to deal with right now. I suppose he’ll get to me later, and probably a good deal gentler than he’s dealing with Stacey... since we’re brothers.

  The fact he thinks I brought her to them is sickening.

  “It has to be her,” the demon mutters, eyes rolling back as Stacey’s energy floods him. “It’s always her.”

  I yank harder and yell obscenities at him, trying to at least get his attention, but his energy drain doesn’t falter, and while he’s linked with her I can’t fuel her without getting caught up in the drain.

  Maybe I should just do that. It’s not like there’s any point in retaining my power if I can’t use it to save her.

  A bored voice appears in my mind. Are all of you this dramatic?

  “Who are you?” I hiss, turning to the side so I don’t have to witness Stacey’s screams.

  The demon hums in satisfaction. “Only a little more,” he murmurs, drunk on her energy. “The final drops should be at the grave.”

  Why bother with a grand reveal? There’s no mistaking the amusement in her voice. Past evidence suggests the information is wasted on you.

  “Why are you helping us if you’re just going to insult me?” I mutter, a little louder than I mean to.

  The other demon glances over, brow furrowed, but he doesn’t stop draining Stacey.

  The demon—or whatever she is—in my head laughs, the sound weirdly alluring while also making me want to wear an iron-clad chastity belt. Like no matter what she turns out to be, she’ll have claws. Who says I’m helping you?

  “Tell me how to turn an illusion into reality and this will all be over!” I yell, losing whatever lingering shred of patience I’ve held onto so far.

  Over for whom? We haven’t agreed to a deal, yet. There’s nothing in it for me.

  I barely hear what she says, because at last I’ve got the demon’s attention. And I couldn’t want it less. His eyes widen with something I’d almost believe was fear, and the energy link shatters as he withdraws his hand from the spell.

  Stacey’s screams cut off, leaving us in horrifying silence.

  “How long have you heard her voice?” the demon growls, stalking over to me and gripping me by the throat. “They can’t be allowed to break free. How long?”

  He isn’t talking about us.

  A couple of puzzle pieces fall into place and I grin even as his grip on my neck tightens. I tug at his fingers, chains rattling, but I’m too weak to make a difference.

  “At least take me out to dinner first,” I splutter around my cut-off breath, laughing maniacally when he spits in my face.

  His energy flares, too strong to contain, and my lingering magic—and life-force—begin to drain away. As the room fades in and out of color, the hallucinations my mind chooses to shove in front of me are keys. Hundreds of dazzling keys, shining before me. Through the haze, Stacey’s expression contorts into rage, but no matter how she pulls at the chains, she’s too weak to make anything change—magically or physically.

  Isn’t it obvious? It takes a second for me to realize the woman is answering my question. Illusions require work to maintain; reality is about letting go. Her voice lowers to a whisper. Stop lying.

  None of this explains anything about the keys, real or fake, but it does give me an idea.

  There’s only one lie I’ve been telling, and with Stacey’s screams echoing in my mind, I’m sick of keeping it.

  It’s time for last resorts.

  Using what little magic I have left, I let my demonic features tear through my human ones, summon my blades, and stick them through the demon. And with the metal as a conduit, I begin to drain him. The shock in his eyes fuels me almost more than his energy does, like a beacon igniting inside my chest.

  Across the room, I feel more than see Stacey looking at me, but I don’t turn. I can’t face her right now. The fact she’s seen me as a demon and still wanted our bond is more than I could ask; we won’t come back from this.

  Not when she sees me as I am.

  Not just a demon; a warrior.

  Nice girls don’t bond with warrior demons.

  The body falls to the floor with a thud, and suddenly the room is silent. No mystery voices appear, no new demons to drain us of our power. I look at the manacles around my wrists—anything to keep my attention from Stacey as long as possible—and focus on pouring my power into them.

  The demon I drained was strong, his magic infused with energy from my own bond. It floods my veins, consuming me, changing me.

  I rip the chains off the wall.

  An echoing crash tells me Stacey has done the same, her manacles crumbling at her feet. The pride surging through me—that I was able to feed her enough power to give her demonic strength—almost eclipses my fear.

  But I have to look at her, eventually.

  My hands drip with the demon’s blood, my swords held aloft ready for the next threat. There are splatters across my face and down my front from the explosion of energy as I drained him clean.

  His husk lies at my feet, and rather than guilt or sobriety all I feel is triumph. Because this is who I am. This is what I want.

  I turn to her, bracing myself for everything to change.

  But the look on her face isn’t what it should be. I take a step backwards, my mask of apathy destroyed as I stare at the fierce light of joy in her eyes. I don’t know what replaces it—probably don’t want to know. “How can you…” I swallow. “Why does this make you happy?”

  Stacey walks towards me, her expression darkening with power and unmistakable desire.
She’s crazy hot like this, and there’s no way I could ever think to call her a princess.

  Right now, she looks like a queen.

  Her eyes drop to my swords, and despite it all, despite everything, she smiles.

  “Because ten thousand blank checks can’t make up for the fact that there’s nothing behind them.” Her smile turns bitter at the edges. “I once bought everyone in my class a pony with that check, you know?”

  I choke on air, confused by the sudden segue. “Oh? How did that go down?” Images of irate parents flood my mind, and I can’t help smirking at the thought. Tiny Stacey, fiercely standing her ground because she wanted a pony.

  “They didn’t notice.”

  My daydream cuts off short. “Seriously?”

  “And when they did, they bought everyone saddles to match.” She sighs, and the image in my head shifts from irate parents to… nothing. A blank mask and an endless bank account. Something clenches in my gut.

  Her joy has always been bought.

  I meet her gaze, feeling the hunger in me reach for her like no one else.

  “You want me,” she says quietly. “You’re fierce, prickly, and insatiably violent… And you want me.”

  Suddenly, I get it. Seeing me like this—I’ve become something she understands, which makes me something she can trust. Possibly the only thing she can trust.

  “Of course I want you,” I breathe.

  She smiles, brilliant and fierce. “And what we have… this is real?”

  I huff a laugh. “If we take down a demon king together, does that count as real enough?”

  “I need more power for that.”

  “Then I need your joy.”

  We stare at each other, seconds ticking past as neither of us say what we desperately want to say. Stacey bites her lip, eyes falling to mine. “Then I need you to tell me what you really want.” She swallows. “So we can find out if it brings me… joy.”

  Heat burns through me, and I don’t bother to hide how I have to adjust myself in my jeans. If she wants real… I can give her real. “Let me switch back first.”

  “Don’t,” she murmurs, and I think I’ve misheard her.

  I know how I look: a mostly human face until I open my eyes and reveal they’re jet-black from edge to edge. Until I lick my lips with a forked tongue. Black wings, taller than two men.

  Stacey hates demons…

  She wets her lips, and I can’t contain the groan that drops from my own. Her eyes widen in shock, and suddenly it’s as though our minds are one. It’s impossible, but the vision appears in my head, clear as day.

  It turns out she doesn’t hate my forked tongue at all.

  Back in reality, I reach for her, bridging the scant inches between us. It’s the barest of movements, we’re already so close.

  I trail my fingers along her thigh, up the side of her ribs. Her breath hitches and she leans into me, her shoulder pressed to my chest. My palm flattens, brushing just below her breasts, covering the flutter of her heartbeat as she tries not to breathe too loud.

  Like I can’t hear her, anyway.

  “Don’t change back, or don’t stop?” I tease, whispering the words in her ear while holding back just enough to make her whimper, straddling that last line of distance for as long as I can.

  Her pulse thuds, the rapid rhythm a triumph in and of itself.

  I’ve been told I have an ego, but it doesn’t change how they love it, in bed and out. They crave the taste of my arrogance, and I won’t cross that final threshold until she gives in and begs me to.

  It won’t take her long. I would never have guessed it before, but I know it now.

  “Either,” she murmurs haltingly. “Both.” Then, so soft I barely hear it: “Please.”

  Her words jolt through me like fire.

  “Now’s your last chance to back out,” I say and throw open the door to the pit.

  Nine

  Stacey

  Oh. My. God.

  Scratch Calvin Klein goth off the record, now and forevermore. No Calvin Klein model in the history of modeling could wield a sword like that.

  Oh shit, this is what he’s been hiding. The two glints of silver I saw in the classroom—what feels like years ago, but is probably only hours. Why on earth has he been hiding this from me?

  But I know the answer to that, don’t I? He can’t believe this brings me joy. Hiding this away, he’s been trying to save our bond.

  The first thought I’m coherent of is: we’re both idiots.

  I take a step forward, and unlike all the times before, I don’t need to pretend I’m feeling joy. Our bond, so nearly severed by stupidity and vicious demons guarding who knows what reaches out into the space between us. Surges.

  Slowly, hesitantly, Daerek grins. It’s feral, animalistic. Flecks of blood still smear across his mouth.

  I reach out and wipe them away. As my fingers touch his skin, everything clears. The blood, the burn of metal scraping around our wrists. Even our clothing swirls around us, tears knitting back together until we shine brand new.

  Maybe there’s something wrong with me, that a blood-covered warrior demon from hell is what I need to be happy. But Daerek slides his thumb over my lip, eyes darkening as he sees the way my breath catches, and I forget to care.

  The wind buffets us; this laboratory is at one of the highest points in the hell-pit. From here, I can see the purple twilight really is from fireflies, though my brain barely pays the thought any attention.

  Daerek leans through the doorway and looks below, wings lazily shifting behind him.

  The wings and eyes make him different to how he normally looks, but at the same time… his essence is unchanged. Some demons appear horrific compared to the human masks they construct—like poor Mal’s demon, Aeden. Thank God I never have to see him without a shirt.

  But Daerek… I’d take him without a shirt no matter what form he’s in. Even though the wings are scaled, the only way I can describe them is beautiful. They catch the light like dragon wings, and the deep blackness of his eyes is somehow iridescent as well. When I look into them, I think of fae, and even the forked tongue that appears when he speaks doesn’t deter me.

  It’s like a hint of wickedness beneath a face that otherwise appears untouchable. Haunting. Too beautiful to be real.

  It makes me wonder what that tongue can do.

  For the first time, I realize just how true it is that a demon’s human features are as much their own as their birth ones. They spend years constructing them, honing them, building them—it isn’t a snap of the fingers kind of thing. Daerek obviously liked his demon face enough to keep much of the structure. Which is sexy—confidence is a good look on him—but… there’s a haunting sadness to the hollow of his cheekbones, the deep black pit of his eyes.

  Abruptly, the thought so new I almost don’t recognize it, I wonder what brings him joy. And how I can give it to him.

  His wings twitch, like a bird about to take flight, and he suddenly grabs me around the waist and launches us into the air. Before I know what’s happening, he’s moved us to one of the ledges surrounding the pit, barely large enough for me to lie down.

  Daerek sits me on the edge, hovering gracefully in the air with a slow, steady flap of his wings. He’s keeping himself up at least partially with magic now. The blue electricity of his aura flares, and I can’t help the pure euphoria that radiates from me to him as he lowers his mouth to my hips, pushing my skirt up over my waist.

  The hot swipe of his tongue as it flicks across the top of my underwear makes me moan, and I don’t even care, because for once it isn’t just me.

  Daerek’s breathing is rougher than before, and when his eyes flick up to mine, I swear they flash with fire, just for a second.

  He flaps twice and lands above me, braced on either side of my shoulders. His wings enclose us both against the cliff-face, the eerie twilight disappearing in a snap.

  It’s quiet inside this space, so dark and still and private
I can think again, although that doesn’t last long. Daerek’s fingers brush over my pussy, teasing me with nothing more than light touches, and my mind gives up trying to make sense of anything.

  Even in the shadow, I catch a glint of light on Daerek’s jawbone, a flash of reflection in his jet-black eyes. It’s as though there’s a light emanating from within us, between us, and it takes me a moment to recognize it’s our aura.

  I can see ours without the spell now.

  And it’s joined together… like Alaztair’s and Violet’s.

  My mouth falls open and I gape at Daerek, unsure exactly what I’m asking of him. All that’s running through my head is the bizarre, feverish concept that what we have between us is an illusion, and more than anything I want that illusion to be real.

  Daerek’s wings shift, letting a little more of the light in, and his expression becomes visible.

  It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen on him before.

  Gone is the hesitation, the falsely obsequious attempt to please in whatever way he can. His eyes harden, sweeping across my face with such surety I can’t help but feel claimed. My heart stutters, catching in my throat. It’s somehow more intimate than even before, when he had his face between my thighs.

  I’m seeing a part of him I’ve never seen before.

  For once, he’s showing me.

  Our aura flares, the brightness of its energy captivating me. It’s never been this strong, and there’s no doubt in my mind what’s causing it.

  I want him.

  I want him for more than the bond, have always wanted him in any way I could, so long as it was real.

  As I grab him by the back of the neck and kiss him, our magic soars in a brilliant flash of light, nearly distracting me from the moment he shoves my panties aside and slips two fingers into me. I moan and fall back against the rock, my skirt so far up my hips it’s practically a blindfold.

  Daerek sees my expression and pauses, tugging lightly at the layers of my dress. “You like being constricted,” he says, like he can read my thoughts, still working his fingers in a steady slide.