by Nikki Sex
Demon Blessed
By
Nikki Sex
Copyright 2016 by Nikki Sex
This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. All rights reserved.
DEDICATION
To my very good friend, Gail Higgins, who was there from the start and went well above and beyond! Gail read every chapter of Demon Blessed, offering suggestions as I wrote it. Then she re-read the whole book several times. Thank you, Gail. I had my doubts about this genre, but your daily, ongoing enthusiasm kept me writing.
All my love and thanks to Larry, Mike, Nancy, and Sophie—you guys helped make this a better story.
Table of Contents
Demon Blessed
Prologue
Chapter 1. I Love Buses
Chapter 2. Of Vices and Virtues
Chapter 3. Hey, Baby
Chapter 4. Pain is Inevitable. Suffering is Optional.
Chapter 5. Late
Chapter 6. Janice St. John
Chapter 7. Why I love my Boss
Chapter 8. The Clients
Chapter 9. Ride ‘em, Cowgirl
Chapter 10. Ride ‘em, Cowboy
Chapter 11. Demon Dinnertime
Chapter 12. When is a Ghost Not a Ghost?
Chapter 13. Resisting Temptation
Chapter 14. Lust and Adrenaline
Chapter 15. Demon Magic
Chapter 16. Still Not Normal
Chapter 17. Owen
Chapter 18. Raven
Chapter 19. Hope
Chapter 20. Secrets
Chapter 21. Bon Voyage
Chapter 22. Once in a Lifetime
Chapter 23. Enchantment
Chapter 24. Magic Kingdom
Chapter 25. Spukani Lodge
Chapter 26. Demons and Devils
Chapter 27. One Damned Thing After Another
Chapter 28. Out of the Frying Pan
Chapter 29. Into The Fire
Chapter 30. One Little Mistake
Chapter 31. History
Chapter 32. The Problem with Werewolves
Chapter 33. Moonstruck
Chapter 34. Giving in to Temptation
Chapter 35. Animal Rutting
Chapter 36. Wolf Magic
Chapter 37. Waiting for The Other Shoe to Drop.
Chapter 38. Now and Forever
Chapter 39. Entrapped
Chapter 40. Making Scents
Chapter 41. Conversations with a Wolf
Chapter 42. Seer
Chapter 43. Full Moon
Chapter 44. Romance
Chapter 45. Goth Girl
Chapter 46. Long Claw
Chapter 47. Contest
Chapter 48. Fight
Chapter 49. Uh-oh
Chapter 50. Back to Normal
Chapter 51. Detective Joseph
Chapter 52. Horror
Chapter 53. Demon Magic
Chapter 54. Untangling
Chapter 55. What Happened?
Chapter 56. Double Trouble
Chapter 57. Addicted
Chapter 58. Charmed
Chapter 59. Mate Magic
Chapter 60. True Magic
Chapter 61. What Could Possibly Go Wrong?
Chapter 62. Scaring the Mice
Chapter 63. A Rock and a Hard Place
Chapter 64. Peas in a Pod
Chapter 65. OMFG
Chapter 66. Demon Hunting
Chapter 67. Less than Zero
Chapter 68. Demon Seeking
Chapter 69. Demon Close
Chapter 70. Demon Caught
Chapter 71. Demon Killed
Chapter 72. At Home with an Assassin
Chapter 73. The Daily Grind
Chapter 74. Jugulo
Chapter 75. What Doesn’t Kill Me…
Chapter 76. Change of Heart
Chapter 77. Fortress
Chapter 78. Adjustments
Chapter 79. Tactics
Chapter 80. Beast Lord
Chapter 81. Trying not to Lie
Chapter 82. Revelations
Epilogue
Demon Blessed
I adore humans.
I wish I still was one.
Oddly, humans never seem to appreciate how lucky they are. Despite the incredible adventures I’ve had, I’d give it up in a heartbeat for the chance to fall in love, get married, have children, and grow old.
What’s my story? Well, two important events occurred on June 15, 1815. Napoleon was defeated at Waterloo, and I was born in a small town near Devon, England.
I was christened Agnes Betsy Longbottom, but I’ve altered my identity countless times since then. Agnes Longbottom!
As I’m sure you can appreciate, dumping that name was no hardship.
I’ve traveled all over the world, typically moving on when it was time to reinvent myself. I’ve changed my residence, my country, my friends, my lovers…but nothing really changes.
I’m still me…mostly.
Humans are strange, fascinating creatures. One moment they rage at their childhood, their upbringing, and how completely they’ve managed to screw up their lives. The next minute a song stirs a memory and they’re overcome with joy—or they weep because the smell of lilacs reminds them of a loved one who passed away.
Humans. Each uniquely dissimilar, yet all utterly alike.
I’m over two-hundred years old, yet physically I appear to be in my early twenties. I don’t get sick, I can’t get pregnant, and if circumstances are right, I heal quickly.
If circumstances are wrong, I suffer the same as anyone else.
I last resided in Jackson, Florida, but now I’m enjoying the vibrant atmosphere of Vancouver, British Columbia, on the west coast of Canada. I’ve lived here for three years in a penthouse apartment overlooking Stanley Park. It’s a thirty-minute walk or a fifteen-minute bus ride to work. My current job as a psychic is a hoot. To my delight, I can mostly be myself with the people I work with.
I hope I can stay in Vancouver for a long, long time.
The best thing about me is I appear absolutely ordinary. I’m five-four, the average height for a woman. I have brown hair and brown eyes—not dark brown, not honey brown—nondescript, like the rest of me.
Angels, demons, necromancers, shapeshifters, wereanimals, vampires, sorcerers, witches…to supernaturals, I register as human. They don’t notice me, but I’m well aware of them.
Everyone pays me as much attention as the speed limit—which is to say, none at all. Why am I so pleased to be unremarkable?
Because I’m not normal.
I see things others don’t, such as ghosts. I sense everything supernatural.
I like people, but I can’t allow anyone to know the real me. Why? Because I’ve got big secrets. I can’t trust anyone, particularly paranormal creatures.
With my bizarre powers, I don’t even trust myself.
I’m too damned dangerous.
Sensing otherworldly energy is pretty helpful for keeping out of trouble—except for this week when I screwed up royally. This week I violated my own rules for survival. Consequently, I nearly died when everything went horribly wrong.
On the other hand, I wouldn’t change a thing. But hey, I’m getting ahead of myself.
Perhaps it’s best if I start at the beginning…
Prologue
“License my roving hands, and let them go,
Before, behind, between, above, below.”
— John Donne
Two-hundred years ago…
It’s 5:00 in the morning when I begin my long walk to Lang Park, the stately manor where I work six days a week as a housemaid. The air is cold, I can see my breath, but my thoughts focus on my mother.
After my father passed away six years ago, my mamma began to dabble in the black arts. If I’m not careful, they’ll lock her up in Bedlam. But how can I work twelve hours a day and also supervise her?
Every week for months, she uses leeches to take my blood. I let her do this to make her happy. Quietly mad, mother is ineffective at every task. Her incompetence is a blessing. Where would I be if she were accomplished in the devil’s work?
Sighing, I push my fears away and increase my pace.
My thoughts immediately slip to more favorable subjects. Yesterday, I read John Donne’s poetry until the early hours. His verses are wicked!
Beneath my bedclothes, I secretly touch myself, while I picture Lord Cecil Ravensthorpe making love to me on our wedding night. Last night I did so until stars burst in on me, ending my worries and soothing my tumultuous thoughts.
Do other young women do this?
Lord Cecil follows me around as I complete my chores. He’s nineteen, two years older than I am. A fine figure of a man, he’s so handsome on his chestnut stallion, Emperor. His lordship has promised me marriage, but will his family permit such a match?
As Lord Ravensthorpe’s parents have gone to London today, and his brothers are at Eton, I anticipate his constant attention.
I shiver, but not from the brisk morning fog. His devotion is delicious. I’ve only recently allowed him to press his lips to mine. Why shouldn’t I take joy where I may?
A kiss is only a kiss. As long as we’re not discovered, there’s no harm.
I’m a strong person. I know my own mind. No matter what his lordship vows, I’ll never allow him to go further. I’m not foolish. Society decrees my value rests in my virginity. Why would I throw such a treasure away?
Working with another maid, we quickly get through our duties by mid-morning. The rest of our chores we each will work alone. Millie and I pass through the hall together on the way to the kitchen. That’s when I see him casually lounging against a doorway.
My chest tightens, my breath catches. Like a dark-haired angel, his lips curve in a boyish, crooked smile.
Millie and I offer quick, awkward curtsies. “My Lord,” we chorus the same greeting.
Lord Cecil straightens, towering above us. Leisurely, like a king to his subjects, he nods.
My whole body warms while arousal makes my face heat. His smile broadens as he notices the flush in my cheeks. We both know he’ll come to me later, he’ll hold me later…he’ll kiss me later.
When I return to work, his lordship joins me as I complete my household tasks. Charming and ardent, from time to time we “accidentally” touch.
Once we are alone in the upstairs rooms, anticipation tightens things low in my body. Lord Cecil tries to kiss me, but I refuse him.
I won’t be distracted.
I have work to do.
Giving up, he pulls a collection of Byron’s poetry from his coat pocket. As he reads, “She Walks in Beauty,” I put clean sheets on a bed.
When he finishes the poem, he raises a questioning brow. “Did you enjoy it?”
“Delightful, your lordship.”
“You know my name.” Irritated, he strides toward me. “Use it! Are we not engaged?”
My heart pounds in my chest as I regard him through my lashes. Oh, he’s beautiful, and he knows it. Tall and broad-shouldered, dark haired, with arrogant sapphire eyes.
“You walk in beauty,” he says huskily, pulling me into his arms. Embarrassed by his compliment, I put a hand to his chest to hold him back.
“Thank you,” I say, even though I’m plain, and I know it.
I breathe in the clean, masculine scent of him—he’s such a temptation. It’s a risk to be alone together, but I can handle him. His lips brush across my ear, sending shivers down my spine.
Then, he kisses me.
His lips are delicious. We kiss for some time, his hands moving over my back and shoulders. This is the most I’ve ever allowed—the most I’ve ever risked. His breathing becomes ragged. I ache with temptation.
I pull away. “We can go no further,” I tell him sternly.
His eyes are dark with desire. “Are you afraid? Trust me. It will be wonderful.”
My lips compress, my gaze narrows. “Not until we are married.”
This is a common argument. As usual, I refuse to give in. Tilting his head, his crooked half-smile makes my heart stop.
“But may I still kiss you?” His gaze focuses hungrily on my mouth.
I nod. “Yes, we can kiss.”
Lord Cecil pulls me into his arms again, pressing his lips to mine. Surrounded by his scent, wrapped in his embrace, I’m shocked when I feel the hardness of his passion. Having his body against mine feels heavenly.
I should stop him, and I shall…soon.
I’m so in love. I’ve adored this man for years. Why can’t we become husband and wife?
Then…it happens.
What?
I don’t know.
Something unearthly touches me—something other. Intense pleasure pulses through my body in a heated rush. Frightened, I gasp.
I’ve never felt anything like it.
My lord presses his lips to my neck as darkness whispers across the edges of my consciousness, promising things I could never imagine. The sensual feel of his mouth on my skin makes me sigh.
Lord Cecil’s embrace tightens. His breathing speeds into an incomprehensible roar!
A roar?
Fear inches up my spine, my heart thuds in my throat. The wind! I hear it—I feel it—but it can’t be real.
The storm in my mind screams with dark joy. Hot gusts of air beat against my body—pounding against me as though knocking on a door.
Like my lord’s manhood, it wants in.
Passion overpowers me—I’m losing control. Have I been bewitched? This firestorm of confusion and panic only seems to stir my lust to new heights.
Unbearable tension combines with tremors of fear, and anticipation. This expectant moment is about to give birth—to what?
Something is coming.
My vision abruptly shifts. For an impossible moment, I clearly see my mother standing around a fire with three others: The blind beggar, the village idiot and her “friend,” Mrs. Baxter. The widow Baxter is a nasty woman—her tongue cuts deeper than the sharpest blade.
This isn’t real. It can’t be.
I smell wood burning. Outside of myself, like a bird, I watch from high above. A bonfire blazes below me, crackling, throwing heat. Despite the noise of branches burning, I distinctly hear the low chant of four voices.
They sound like witches. Are they summoning something?
Nearby, my mother holds a bowl of leeches. This morning before I left home, five of them were bloated with my blood. Only four leeches remain.
Where is the fifth?
I have my answer as Mamma flings a leech into the fire. The moment the creature enters the flames, power flows over me. I gasp with pleasure. Lord Cecil sucks my lip into his mouth, he bites so hard he nearly draws blood.
Mmm…blood! I ache for it!
It’s such an odd thought, yet the urgent desire fills my mind. “Yes,” I murmur, a needy sigh.
Intense sensation rips through me. Unable to keep still, I strain toward his lordship, defenseless against such raw longing.
Encouraged by my response, Lord Cecil opens the laces of my bodice. Rough fingers brush against my sensitive nipples—his flesh to my flesh.
With his first touch of my breast, another leech falls into the fire. I convulse as power fires my veins. I should be panicked, but all I feel is need.
This is wrong.
“Lord, save me,” I gasp, in a strangled whisper.
“We’re not stopping now.” His lordship’s commanding voice echoes in my mind.
Unexpected hunger grips me, a terrible hunger.
The world changes.
I’m transported. I no longer see my mother, her friends, and the fire. I’m back within myself. My knees buckle completely—Lord Cecil’s grip on my arms is bruising.
Jaw tight with lust, he swings me up onto the bed, then crawls on top of me. His weight presses my body into the mattress. Otherworldly energy adds to my excitement. He intends to go further.
I need to stop this!
Why can’t I stop him?
Lord Cecil’s mouth is upon my bare breast. He sucks my nipple with strong, devastating tugs. Each sensual pull makes my sex tighten and clench.
Another leech falls into the fire. In my mind, I see it burn in bright blue light. Why does it feel as though I’m going up in flames?
At that exact moment, my lord’s hand burrows between my legs, stroking moist folds. Removing my underclothes, he caresses me on the exact place I touched myself last night.
I cry out as I release in a spine-tingling climax. Mindless, insensible, I burn in carnal bliss.
The dark wind is back, knocking, knocking against me—it still wants in.
“Don’t hurt me,” I murmur, but I don’t mean it.
I need pain. Pain is life.
What is happening to me? First I want blood, then I want pain. For a moment, I wonder where these crazy urges come from, but then I’m swept away again, lost in sensation.
My hands grasp his shoulders as I hold on for dear life. I don’t want him to stop. I don’t think I can stop.
Whatever’s happening, I must see it through to the end.
Preparing to mount me, my lord spreads my legs wide with his hips. His hard, hot manhood presses against my feminine entrance.
No. I don’t want to lose my virginity! Not until I’m married.
Oh, but I do.
Helpless with raw, animal need, I make no attempt to stop him. I surrender to Lord Cecil, for I have no will to resist.
His hands are everywhere as he selfishly takes, takes, takes what he wants. He has no thought of me at all. Why don’t I care?
Somehow, I have dual vision. I’m here, but I am also there. I watch as the final leech is flung into the fire, but the last leech doesn’t simply burn—it explodes!
The blaze flares into an inferno, bursting outward, consuming everything in its path.
