Demons of Desire

by Debra Dunbar

  “Even if you don’t get the internship, you’ll find something promising,” Gavin said, giving Darci a quick kiss on the cheek. “You’re not a woman who gives up easily.”

  My friend exchanged a glance with me, communicating everything in a brief look, the way best friends do. Yes, Darci wasn’t a woman who gave up easy — on boyfriends, on her career, or on weird half–demon–half–elf friends.

  “I’m sure you’ll get the job, and you’ll be running the city in no time.” Irix saluted Darci with his wine glass.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence, but it’s a long shot.” Darci shrugged.

  “Nah.” Irix leaned back in his chair, taking a sip of wine. “I know these things. You’ll get that internship, guaranteed.”

  I kicked him under the table and gave him a squinty–eyed glare. I wasn’t sure what he was intending, but I hoped he wasn’t leading my friend on. I had every confidence in Darci’s smarts and ambition, but Irix had no right to make pronouncements he didn’t intend to follow up on. Irix winced, pinching my leg in retaliation. He was saved from further damage by the arrival of our dinner.

  After we’d finished, and Darci and Gavin had left, I rounded on Irix, finally free to chew him out. “How could you guarantee Darci that internship? She’s got her heart set on it, and now she’ll be completely crushed if it doesn’t happen. I know how these things work. It takes connections and money to get these jobs — things her family doesn’t have. She deserves it, and it sucks, but you raising her hopes like that is horrible.”

  Irix looked perplexed, taking my arm as we went to leave the restaurant. I pulled out of his grasp, and he sighed, looking heavenward.

  “I don’t promise what I can’t deliver, half–breed. I’ll take care of it. She’ll get the job.”

  My mind raced through the possibilities. Did he intend on seducing the Mayor and somehow compelling him to hire Darci? Would he make a huge campaign contribution with stolen money? I remembered Irix paying for our dinner tonight in cash. Crap, how much had he stolen from that ATM?

  “Why? Why would you do this for someone who means nothing to you, for a human?”

  The shutters came down over his eyes, and he shrugged. “It amuses me. I always enjoy a good seduction, and the prospect of blackmail is quite exciting.”

  Shit. Darci would have a fit if she knew how her internship had been earned. “You can’t set up the mayor of the city and blackmail him! That’s wrong.”

  Irix’s face was set in hard lines as he stopped and turned to face me. “Darci is your friend. You know that she’s the best candidate and how much good she’ll do the city. Others are using underhanded methods to gain the advantage. I’m offering you a level playing field.”

  “That’s not a level playing field. What you’re proposing is illegal and completely immoral. Darci doesn’t want to win that way, and I’d never condone that sort of thing. I’d never do that myself.”

  “Really? If someone’s life depended on the mayor’s decision, would you? If breaking the law and bending your ethics saved others, or a bayou full of cypress trees, would you? Morality is a surprisingly malleable concept.”

  I felt a storm of indecision at his questions, but he was missing the point. “This internship isn’t a life–or–death event. Darci will succeed without it — she’s that driven, that good.”

  I felt the weight of his stare in my bones. People edged past us on the sidewalk, and a breeze came down the cross street, pressing my skirt against my legs.

  “I won’t interfere if you don’t want me to.”

  There was something odd in his voice, something that made me think he wasn’t telling the truth.

  “Swear it.”

  His lip twitched into a half smile, although his eyes remained solemn. “I swear on all the souls that I Own that I will not personally interfere with Darci’s internship candidacy.”

  I wracked my brain trying to find the loophole in his vow, frustrated that I hadn’t taken more interest in debate or law classes in my studies. “Okay.”

  “So, we’re good?” Irix extended a hand.

  “Good.” I went to shake his hand, and he held on, tucking it into his arm as he turned and began walking once again.

  “Your friends are your household, Amber. You need to give serious consideration to how you support them and nurture their loyalty. The day might come when you need to smash what you consider your ethics, or risk losing them.”

  What the hell was he talking about?

  “Household?” I struggled to keep up with him in my high heels as we strolled down the sidewalk.

  Irix’s lips turned up in a crooked smile. “Household. It’s the people you consider yours, the ones that belong to you. Demons, elves, humans — anyone.”

  “Darci doesn’t belong to me!” My voice was an outraged squeak.

  “Of course she does. You lived with her at your university. You live at her apartment when you are in her town. If she needed your help, you would risk your personal safety to come to her, and she you. She’s yours.”

  “No,” I argued. “That’ friendship. Darci is my best friend. I don’t ‘own’ her.”

  Irix made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort. “Silly. Half–breeds can’t ‘Own’. And I doubt your incredibly strict ethical standards would allow you to seize and hold anyone’s soul. Your household are not those you ‘Own’, they’re those that belong to you.”

  I frowned. Clearly there were some communication issues between Irix and me, and the definition of the word ‘belong’ seemed to be one of them. I saw it as slavery, but from what he was saying, it seemed to be something different in Hel.

  “Who do you have in your household? Are they free to leave and go elsewhere?”

  Irix turned into a side street, tugging me along. “Of course they’re free to leave. Household members choose to be with you, in fact, they often beg to be with you. You protect them, raise their status through association. Most of my household members are demons, although incubi and succubi don’t have the large households that other demons do. I often have humans in my household. Colette, who willed me my New Orleans home, was one of my household members.”

  His face tightened in grief as he mentioned her name. I had wondered about their association, but now I felt a sympathetic tug toward him at this sign of caring.

  “Tell me about Colette.” I was surprised Irix showed such feelings toward another — especially a human, and I wanted to know more.

  “I met her just after New Orleans was captured by the Union Army. The early conflict was military, but as it moved into the city, there were specific punishments against women who protested against the occupation. Colette was the mistress of a man who died at Fort St. Phillip. He’d given her the house early in their relationship, and she managed to keep it by being savvy enough to walk the tightrope between union and confederate forces.”

  “What did she look like?” I don’t know why that was so important to me, but I wanted to get a visual of the woman that Irix spoke of with longing and grief.

  “She was a mulatto — not so light that she’d be passe blanc, but lighter than your friend Darci. She was tall and a bit thinner than the fashion when I first met her, although you would consider her curvy now. She curled her hair into long ringlets, but with the humidity, little wisps would spiral up tight against her scalp.”

  His voice softened with nostalgia, and I felt an unwelcome pang of jealousy.

  “Had she been a prostitute? A madam?” I don’t know why I cared, but I did.

  “No. She gave her favors to whom she pleased. Prostitution would have probably been in her future after the demise of her lover, but as part of my household, she had other choices. That’s what ownership means, Amber. I shielded her, protected her — just as you would with Darci.

  I was getting a better idea on the concept, even though the thought of his feelings for Colette still were like a blow to my stomach. “Did you protect her from actions from the
Union army? Keep her safe?”

  A haunted look flashed across Irix’s face. “As much as I could. Demons can’t stay here long, and there were times when I needed to go back to Hel. Colette was tough. She could take care of herself, but I always felt guilty when she was alone.”

  “How did she die?” I couldn’t help asking, even though I knew the question would cause him pain.

  “Colette loved her food and drink. She’d indulged quite a bit through the decades and eventually succumbed to her excesses.”

  “You couldn’t help her?” It seemed impossible to me that a demon found any physical problem beyond their abilities.

  Irix shook his head. “Demons aren’t good at healing. That’s an angel thing. We can fix our own injuries, but when it comes to another, we’re pretty helpless.”

  I halted at a street corner, staring at him. “I’m so sorry.”

  We continued in silence while I tried to reconcile my preconceptions of demons with this man that cared enough about a human to protect her, to mourn her for over a century.

  “Did you love her?” It was the question I was terrified to ask, but I needed to know the answer, no matter how much it might pain me.

  Irix gave me a quizzical look. “There are many different kinds of love, little half–breed. Demons can care deeply for most–favored humans. Sometimes that emotion comes close to what you would think of as love.” He sighed. “It’s painful to have feelings for a being that has such a short life. Many demons find it easier to put humans in the same category as lesser life forms. Others are simply incapable of caring for any who are not beings of spirit.”

  That seemed kind of snobby, but as I thought of all my friends and family that would die long before me, I began to understand. How many times could someone say ‘goodbye’ before their heart hardened into a self–defensive rock?

  “Do demons ever fall in love with demons?” Or half–demons? I added silently.

  That got a short laugh that didn’t seem to stem from any sort of amusement. “Sometimes. It’s an intense ride that always ends up with one or both demons dead.”

  “Always?” Surely there had to be some demon partnerships that stood the test of time.

  “Eventually yes. Immortality probably contributes a bit to the violence of our affairs, but mostly it’s just that we’re demons. Selfish, amoral beings don’t tend to form solid relationships. Two selfish, amoral beings are pretty much doomed.”

  Something inside me twisted at his words. Doomed. I didn’t want to explore this any further, and Irix hadn’t completely answered my earlier question.

  “Were your feelings for Colette what humans would call love?”

  He hesitated a moment. “Yes.”

  I wondered how they’d worked that out with his incubus needs, if they’d even had sex. I couldn’t see Irix having a platonic relationship with anyone who was willing to have sex with him — and they were all willing. Would he have tied her to him, leaving her longing as he dashed back and forth to Hel and satisfied his hunger with other humans? I thought of the man in the hotel room and wondered how desperate Colette had been if Irix had left her for years at a time. A decade is nothing to a demon, but it’s a painful eternity to a human.

  Irix put his arm around my shoulder and drew me close. “I don’t want tonight to be filled with ghosts of the past. You did amazing magic today, far above what others of your age would be capable of. I’m proud of you, Amber. I want to celebrate your intellect, and your power. Let’s do something special.”

  We were only a few blocks from his house, I realized. My heart sped up at the thought of what special things Irix and I could do. My earlier fantasy of the stairway loomed in my mind, and I picked up the pace.

  “Grab some champagne and head back to your place?”

  His hand caressed my shoulder. “Ah, my elven princess, the champagne is already on ice.”

  Imagine my shock when we rounded the corner and I saw the dark brick of his house in sharp contrast to the golden light pouring out the open shutters of every window. A party?

  Irix followed me up the front steps, his hand dropping from my shoulder to cup my ass and urge me forward. As I neared, I could hear the music through the thick, centuries–old walls. It wasn’t the thumping base of the college parties I usually attended; this was low and deep, with a middle–eastern flavor. As I opened the door, a cloud wafted toward me — sweet and heavy, the scent swirled through my brain, slowing my thoughts and sending the nerve endings across my skin into overdrive.

  “What is that?” The music was thankfully low enough that I didn’t have to shout.

  He sniffed. “Cannabis.”

  I raised my eyebrows. I’d smelled plenty of pot in my life, and none of it had this peculiar aroma.

  “And opium. Mostly opium.”

  He grinned sheepishly, while my mouth dropped open in horror. “You rob a bank, steal a car, and now you have a bunch of people doing hard–core drugs in your house?”

  “Well, I hope to be doing them too. If you don’t like opium, you can always do hash instead.”

  I made a series of incoherent noises while he grabbed my arm and led me through the narrow hallway into the room with golden–papered walls, an excess of dark mahogany trim, and naked people. Naked people smoking drugs from elaborate bejeweled glass bongs that looked like they cost more than my car.

  “I think I’m overdressed for the occasion.” It was the only thing I could think of to say as I watched one man lean over and exhale smoke seductively into another’s mouth before closing the distance with a passionate kiss.

  “Easily remedied.”

  Before I realized what was happening, Irix had lowered the zipper on the back of my dress with a quick, smooth movement, sliding the thin silk from my shoulders to puddle at my feet. I opened my mouth to protest, but forgot my objections as the demon’s hands skimmed my waist. He kissed along the top of my shoulder, into the hollow of my collarbone, and my little purse hit the floor.

  I knew the combination of Irix and second–hand opium smoke was blurring my judgment, but I didn’t care. Turning to face him, I unbuttoned the front of his shirt by feel as our mouths merged. Before his shirt joined my dress on the floor, I felt the hands of others on me, caressing my calves and back. Someone nibbled their way up the sensitive skin of my waist, licking along the side of my breast.

  I didn’t care. Actually, I cared a lot, and it was all good.

  “They’re all yours,” Irix murmured in my ear. “Six to do with what you want, and not a single one of them wearing socks.”

  My monster purred, pleased at his gift and basking in the energy already flowing into me. I struggled to find some part of me still rational enough to insist that these people could hardly be considered consenting. Yeah, they’d willingly come to a drug–fueled orgy, but I doubt they’d agreed to be sexually tied to me for life.

  “I can’t do it.” My voice trembled with the half–hearted protest.

  “A feather light tie.” Irix’s voice was as silken as the shirt I’d just stripped off him. “Or no tie at all. You choose, and I will make sure you maintain control.”

  I practically collapsed in relief. The sensation of six people caressing me with hands and mouths was more than I could withstand. I wanted to turn to them, feel their flesh against mine, and fulfill their greatest fantasies.

  “No tie. Just tonight, and nothing more.”

  My monster screamed in protest, but this was a test. If I could manage to do this, even with Irix’s help, then maybe I could trust myself to hold back. Next time, a light tie, then next time a bit more. If I promised the monster what she wanted in the future, maybe I could extend that future out another century or so. Maybe forever.

  For now, six humans in one night should be enough to sustain me for what I needed to do tomorrow. In addition, I felt a steady flow of energy from Irix, his continued gift to me. I appreciated it. Without his energy, I would be too hungry to maintain any sort of self–con
trol.

  “I promise,” he told me.

  I wasn’t sure whether I truly believed him, or was so desperate for what those around me were so willing to give. I had no choice but to trust him. Taking a deep breath and squeezing my eyes shut, I turned around, giving myself over to the press of flesh.

  They surrounded me, and under the onslaught of sensation, I was dimly aware of Irix moving a few feet away to watch. I sensed his pleasure — as great as my own, and wondered if he was as aroused as I was.

  “Take out your cock,” I commanded, opening my eyes to meet his golden ones. He was leaning against a tall table, watching me intently. Never taking his eyes from mine, he slowly lowered his hands to his pants and released the top button. A hand skimmed along the bulge tenting his pants, while the other slowly eased down the zipper. With a twist of his hips, the pants whispered to the floor, leaving him gloriously naked … and very, very hard.

  “Kiss that doe–eyed beauty beside you,” he instructed, taking himself in hand with a slow, firm slide. “I want to see how wide her brown eyes become when you take her over the edge.”

  I’m not often attracted to women, but I turned to the cocoa–skinned woman to my left without a second thought. Her skin was soft as my hands smoothed down her back to cup her ass. I met her gaze briefly before pulling her toward me and merging her full lips with mine. She tasted of peaches and honey, and my tongue explored her mouth as my hands learned their way around her body. The others stroked me encouragingly, allowing me to give all my attention to the sweet woman before me.

  Her breasts were full and heavy in my hands, and she made small whimpering noises into my mouth as she fisted my hair. Breaking off the kiss, I lowered my head, dropping down to flick a dark nipple with my tongue.

  She gasped. And something quacked. Quack, quack, quack. Quack, quack, quack. What the fuck? It was coming from somewhere near my feet. Had someone let a duck in the house? I was kinky, but I wasn’t that kinky.