Accidentally Married To A Demon

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Accidentally Married To A Demon Page 4

by Mila Young


  Before long, I was looking down the steps, feeling and hearing them creak with every step. If Rog was anywhere in the house, he was bound to hear my footsteps. So either he was playing some kind of game by letting me do my own thing, or he just wasn't around. I wanted to think that it was the latter, but there was a nagging sensation in the back of my head that said it couldn't be.

  He had to know that a witch would not just sit around and let herself be imprisoned by a demon.

  Still, if he wasn't going to stop me, I wasn't going to hang around and wait for him to change his mind. I got out the door and broke into a jog, heading for the gate, keeping my head on a swivel, trying to pick up on any sign that I was being followed.

  The running lasted until I was a few hundred yards away from the vineyard sign. I paused, sucking in a deep breath, thanking the good gods that I had never put cardio aside during my semi-regular gym visits. A little out of breath, with a little burning across my legs, but none in my lungs. I could probably keep going for another half-mile or so before I needed to stop and rest.

  But there was nothing coming after me, and what looked like miles and miles of farmland all around. It wasn't like there was anywhere for him to hide. Blood demons couldn't make themselves invisible, not in broad daylight.

  I let out a nervous laugh, clearing my throat and wiping a hint of sweat that had collected on my forehead. It felt a little too good to be true, but I wasn't going to wait around just because of a suspicion.

  As the fears that filled me when I'd been in the house started to fade, a sense of awe over the landscape started touching me. Under any other circumstances, I would have found a leisurely stroll through this place nothing but relaxing and inspiring. It looked like a place straight out of the Lord of the Rings' version of the Shire, and the place sure had a way of calming me down.

  We were far away from any of the major cities, although I could see one of them in the distance, but the farmland was what filled this area of the place, with grazing cows, sheep, and even a few goats dotting the rolling hills.

  A small herd of sheep wandered close to the road, looking at me curiously before deciding that I was neither a threat nor a source of food and went back to grazing on the grass at their feet.

  I could see a small village spread out in a valley down near the river, but as much as I wanted to go and find some semblance of civilization, I couldn't resist the feeling that Rog would have some tendrils in the area. Best to just avoid people at all costs.

  All I could do was keep walking, following the road that circled away from the village, heading more or less in the same direction that I had taken from the airport.

  A small farmhouse next to the road was coming up when I felt something pulling at me. Nothing physical, but it didn't have to be. I kept looking forward, trying to push myself past it, but while my mind was more than capable, something was off with the rest of my body, stopping me from physically continuing.

  "Are you all right?"

  I turned, fully expecting to see Rog standing there, mocking me, but instead all I could see was an older man sitting on an old wooden chair with a massive gray and black dog lying at his feet as a small flock of goats came in closer to the house.

  It was difficult to answer, and I tried to push myself against whatever it was that was holding me back again, and once again, it felt like there were ropes suddenly going taut, keeping me from taking another step. My heart started beating faster the more I fought against the force. Was this part of whatever Rog had done to me?

  "Yes," I finally answered, looking over to the old man as he lit up an ancient clay pipe. "Hi. Who... who are you?"

  "Bram Vonner," the man answered, pushing himself up on his seat and tipping the threadbare tan fedora on his head before sitting down again. "What you see is my little farm. Mostly goats are my trade, as folk around here like to drink their milk. How about you? Tourist?"

  I tilted my head, moving closer to the farmhouse, and suddenly, there was nothing stopping me there. Odd.

  "Nilsa Kane," I answered. "And yes, I guess you could say I'm a tourist. Are there a lot of tourists around here? Your English is pretty good, so I assume that there are more than just locals."

  "Most definitely," Bram replied, and his dog lifted his head, studying me closely as I approached the short wooden gate. "Not so many as to crowd us, but there are certainly enough to make learning and practicing English possible."

  "Because..." I looked around the landscape. Beautiful as it was, I couldn't see why English-speaking tourists would find their way here. "Why are there a lot of tourists around here?" Were they being used as sacrifices to the demon? And here I let him trick me into marrying him. No, it had to be a mistake.

  "You... are not a tourist then?" the old man asked.

  "Not really. Sort of. What is the draw to this place?"

  "Well, if you look into the mountains over there"—Bram raised his hand, pointing over to the west, and sure enough, I could see some highlands in that direction—"that is where you will find what was once the castle of Vlad Tepes of Wallachia, Son of the Dragon."

  "Vlad... the Impaler?" I gasped. Were there vampires here too? I grew up knowing supernaturals existed, but I’d never crossed paths with any in New York. Maybe they chose to live in rural areas like this one and away from humans who had no clue they existed.

  "Indeed. And it was the inspiration for the Dracula stories. My mother was certainly a fan, so she named me after the author," he continued.

  "Huh," I grunted, coming in closer. The huge dog perked up, looking more like a wolf than a domestic dog, slowly climbing to his feet. He didn't look too aggressive, and he padded over to where I was standing with the gate at my back.

  "Dracul is a beast, but a calm one," Bram said, laughing as the dog took a sniff from my hand.

  "Dracul...a?"

  "No, no. Dracul means Dragon, and it was also the name of Vlad's father, which is why he is known as son of the dragon."

  "I... didn't know that." I kept eyeing Dracul, who finally finished inspecting my hand and walked back over to the small terrace where Bram was seated, curling up on the ground.

  "Well, now you do. Would you like some tea? Nothing better than a nice cup of tea to help pass time."

  I blinked, looking around. “How long will it take for someone to walk from here to the closest village?”

  “I don’t recommend that, Nilsa,” he said, his voice deepening to a serious tone.

  A shiver crawled up my spine. “And why’s that?”

  “There are things in the shadows out here, and the walk is close to a day. Time has a funny way of stretching out in these parts of the woods. I’d recommend you stay at your vineyard where you are safe.”

  Safe? I highly doubted living with a demon was safe, but I also didn’t like his implication of there being something dangerous in the woods. I glanced around at them behind me where shadows danced amid the enormous trees. Without any street lights, I assumed the landscape got extremely dark at night out here.

  “Do you know Rog well?” I asked, turning back around.

  He shrugged. “He was always kind and thoughtful to the previous owner. I keep to my own business and don’t like to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong. My goats keep me busy plenty enough. You want goat milk anytime, you come over here.”

  I glanced over my shoulder to the dirt road I’d walked down to get here. If my auntie had lived there, then it couldn’t be all bad, right? Or better yet, I could try to find out more about Rog. Surely my auntie left things behind since she was curious about Rog. Plus, if the demon wanted to hurt me, he would have done it by now, right?

  And at the end of the day, the vineyard was mine. So, if I did some digging, plus worked out what in the world the blood contract constituted, then I could make a proper decision on how to break the contract then sell the vineyard.

  “Some tea, then?” Bram asked.

  “Maybe next time,” I answered, staring back his way. �
��I should head back.”

  All he offered me by way of response was a huff as he headed inside and I could hear the clattering of something coming from inside the house.

  "You wouldn't know anything about Rog, would you?" I asked the dog.

  Dracul simply watched me, and I sighed.

  "I didn't think so."

  Chapter 5

  candiestkane.blogspot.com

  There's really no two ways around it. The supernatural caught up with me, despite everything that I put into keeping it in my past.

  And now, here I am, just a stone's throw away from Dracula's actual castle, caught up in a contract with a demon that won't let me leave, bound to a place that I was about fifty percent sure was a fictional place. The fact that I'm tied to a vineyard of all places just makes it that much more surreal.

  It looks straight out of a storybook. Farmlands of various types fill up the landscape, and the people are used to the simple life. They've gotten used to tourists coming to visit the Dracula castle, but aside from that, it looks like a little village that time forgot.

  Maybe that's a little unfair. The houses have electricity, running water, and a lot of them even have Wi-Fi. There are a couple of cell towers too.

  But despite that, people around here are determined to keep themselves in a simpler time. Considering that literal demons walk among them, I can understand the impulse. I'm feeling it a lot too.

  In a world where literal monsters lurk, there's no need to be reminded that too many of them are human in nature. Staring into the eyes of the monster made me fearful. But at the same time, it excited me. I stopped practicing because it felt like a drug, and I didn't know if I would be able to control myself like my mom and her family did. The fact that she never told me who or what my father was might be an indicator that my abstinence is a good idea.

  But I don't really know what to do about that. I don't know any way to break my bond with a demon with magic, but there has to be a way. Even if I am making friends with the local goat-herders and their dogs.

  I'll keep you all updated on my progress, but that's it for me right now.

  Lots of hugs,

  The Candiest Kane around.

  The comments and engagement on my blog had more than doubled on my recent posts since I started sharing this stuff. And if people love reading it, and I enjoy sharing to get things off my chest, then two birds, one stone kind of thing.

  The comments did make it clear that there was something different about it. They were wondering why my blog had suddenly taken a turn, sounding a little more fictional than before.

  All of the feedback that I could see was positive. They thought that I was playing this like I was getting an idea for a fantasy novel of sorts.

  I took a deep breath, looking around my new bedroom and then back to my laptop. It was understandable that people thought that I was turning fictional and dramatic: I was still coming to terms with what was happening myself.

  With that being said, it was an interesting turn. It was an interesting direction to take my blog into. Possibly a permanent one too.

  "I can't just stay in here all day," I whispered, looking around the room again. I’d come back here after visiting the neighbor, and still no sign of Rog.

  Around me, there were faded floral patterns on the walls, and the light bulbs were held up on wall-mounted sconces, making them look like torches.

  Still, while there was still sunlight around, I was contented to leave the window open. Nothing really took the place of natural light.

  I finally headed down the stairs into the common area of the house, giving in to my grumbling stomach for food.

  The country kitchen was a dusty affair, and the tap was dripping. After years of living on my own and being too anxious to call a super, I had used the powers of the internet to teach myself how to fix stuff like that.

  It was quick work, and once it was fixed up, I turned my attention to the fridge. It was an old model, humming louder than most cars, but it still got the job done, and was fully stocked with enough food to last me at least a couple of days.

  "Rog, did you fill the fridge?" I asked, loud enough to be heard through the house. My voice echoed a little louder than I would have liked, but there was no answer. "No? I guess that some magical fridge-stocking elves came along and decided that this witchy bride-to-be needs a well-stocked pantry."

  There was no answer in the house. Not so much as a creaking board, and I knew for a fact that every board in this house creaked. My aunt really hadn't done a good job of maintaining this place, but I could actually forgive her for that, now that I know exactly what she had been dealing with.

  I turned to the oval dining table leading into the open planned living room, but my gaze locked on the enormous cheese wheel, the kind I’d only seen on television. Did it come from Bram?

  “Someone likes cheese in this house.”

  "Who are you talking to?" Rog asked, suddenly making me jump in my skin at not hearing him approach.

  I looked over my shoulder to see him coming into the house, carrying another large cheese wheel, then set it on the table next to the other one.

  The scent of him, musky and fresh, suddenly flooded the kitchen. I instantly felt hot, and getting my gaze to behave and not trail down his rugged body seemed an impossibility. Not when his jeans hugged strong thighs, when his blue shirt lay open at his throat, crisp and clean, the sleeves with cufflinks at the wrists. He no longer looked like the man who worked the farm as he had the day I arrived. He was sophisticated and sexy as hell. Mr. Demon had everything right. Of course, that wasn’t what I should be looking at when technically not only had I inherited a house, but a demon husband through a blood contract. Guess there was no such thing as living alone in this house ever. All things I intended to fix as soon as I found out how.

  “What’s with the cheese? Got a fetish?”

  “Payment,” he answered.

  That confused me, and I blinked at him. “I don’t follow.”

  “People visit me to ask for my advice on problems they face. And I have no need for money, but they insist on paying. So word got around to pay me in food. I give it to the goats.”

  I was so confused and I needed a few seconds just to unpack what he’d told me. “Wait, you, a demon, give people advice. What people? Vampires? And do you have some psychic demon ability?”

  He laughed at me. “You’re funny.” He walked over into the kitchen and pulled out the carton of eggs from the fridge. “I’ll make you a cheese omelet. How does that sound?”

  “I’m fine on making it myself.” Before I knew it, I went to the fridge to collect other ingredients. “You didn’t answer my questions.”

  I started chopping chives on the wooden board near the sink, chewing on my lower lip, needing to do something with my hands to keep calm before I strangled him.

  “I do favors for humans with problems they face. Mostly it’s related to love or money.”

  “So you have some demon mojo going on that can tell them the truth of what to do?”

  He glanced at me, the corners of his mouth curling upward. “I didn’t say that.”

  “You lie to them?”

  “No. I tell them what will help them, but it may not always be what they want to hear.” He leaned a hip against the counter, hands deep in his pockets, and there was something riveting about the way he just stood there. He belonged on the cover of a men’s fashion magazine, not in this backwater farm. Except, he choose to stay here.

  And under no circumstances should I think anything less than loathing toward the demon.

  “Why did you trick me into binding us together? And what exactly does it mean anyway?”

  “A blood demon union was the only way to keep you in the house with me, and our marriage closed the deal.”

  “Why?” My voice rose, gaining myself a raised brow from Rog.

  He closed the distance between us in three long strides.

  I backed up, my ass hitting th
e counter, and the tips of my fingers grazed the knife next to the chopping board behind me.

  Rog stood inches from me, so close yet not touching me. Fiery heat danced off his body and leapt over to me, burning me up in seconds. Sweat collected at my nape, and I struggled to breath.

  “Do I scare you?” he asked, his breath on my cheek.

  My knees softened and it wasn’t just being intimidated by him… Sure, part of it was that, but it surprised me how alluring I found his dominance.

  “N-no!” I sucked at lying.

  He barked a loud laugh and grabbed my chin, forcing me to look up at him. “I have no intention of hurting you, but living alone in this house can be lonely, and I’d gotten used to having someone to share the place with me.”

  “So you forced me into a blood contract.”

  “It was the only way to make this work. You are free to go to neighboring villages, and even into the mountains to visit the infamous castle, but you are mine.”

  I blinked at him, my fingers curling around the hilt of the knife. Would stabbing him even make a difference? A demon couldn’t be killed from what I understood.

  “Why are you in this house anyway? Why haven’t you tried to get out of here and go I don’t know… where do demons go? Hell?”

  A corner of his mouth lifted, and I hated that as I held a knife at my back, contemplating stabbing this demon, I also found him ridiculously handsome. I was a living contradiction. That strong jawline, full lips, eyes that swam with so many possibilities. But I still remembered his demon form in my dream, what he really looked like.

  “Is that where you’d like me go?”

  “Yes,” I answered quickly.

  “Well, guess we’ll both have to get used to our new arrangement. I have no plans on leaving this place, and this my dear, is your new home. You’re auntie learned to accept that, and so will you.”

 

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