Damn Me: A Paranormal Demon Romance (The Demonology Series Book 4)

by Felicity Brandon

“Evil never dies, Cathy.”

  She pulled in a shaky breath at my verdict, though there was little shock in her eyes.

  “Especially an evil as ancient as I.”

  “If there’s no risk to you, why don’t you just tell me?” Her voice was a frustrated whimper, her gaze finally registering the new surroundings. “Tell me who you are, demon.”

  “I am not here to hurt you, Cathy,” I reassured her. “There does not have to be war. Not unless you want it.”

  “Just tell me.” Her thoughts confirmed her need to pull away from my touch, to deny the sensuality, but scintillatingly, she didn’t seem to have the strength. Even as she absorbed the crimson place I had transported her to, she couldn’t drag her gaze from mine. “Why won’t you just tell me?”

  “If you ask nicely, I may.”

  “What?” Her chin rose again, her eyes large and questioning.

  “Ask me nicely,” I repeated. “Ancient I may be, but I still subscribe to the niceties, Cathy. If manners maketh man, they also enhance the immortal.”

  She swallowed, apparently understanding but not believing the simple request.

  “You want me to ask nicely?”

  “Yes.” I removed my hand, freeing her from the hot draw of my touch, and she was finally able to take a decent breath.

  “Okay.” She glanced around for a moment, able to look away without the authority of my caress. “Okay, please, will you tell me who you are?”

  “There we are,” I praised, my tone somewhere between delighted and mocking. “That was not so difficult, was it?”

  Cathy shrugged, her gaze lowering as heat blossomed in her cheeks. I surveyed her physical response with interest, enjoying the way her flesh colored—wanting to see more of it.

  “And now, because you have done so well, I shall reward you. You crave my identity, Cathy, so you shall have it.”

  Her attention was back on me now, every ounce of her focus spearing me.

  “I am Satan, Miss Bateman, and I have come to possess you.”

  Chapter Five

  Cathy

  I am Satan, Miss Bateman, and I have come to possess you.

  His words echoed around my head like a chorus on repeat, his dark eyes shining despite their monotonous black hue.

  Satan? Had he just said he was Satan?

  “Yes, Cathy.” His lips curled, revealing a set of dazzling pearly teeth. “That is what I said.”

  Oh God. I couldn’t catch my breath, the realization too awful to even contemplate. Satan was considered the highest-ranking demon of them all, and he was here with me. He’d stroked the side of my face. My hands began to tremble, the tremor climbing up the length of my arms until I had no control over them at all.

  “Cathy.” His taunting tone washed over. “You need to breathe, Cathy.”

  Breathe? What was he talking about? Of course, I was breathing, yet as the thought reverberated in my mind, I realized I wasn’t—my lungs were near empty, and somehow, the expectation of pulling in more air seemed absurd. How could I think about something so basic when this beautiful stranger had just confessed to being the most dangerous demonic of all time? And there was no doubt, he was beautiful—the ultimate aphrodisiac—his soft voice and mesmerizing looks impossible to ignore, but he was also dangerous. Every fiber of my body sensed his menace, the threat he posed to the people I’d sworn to protect.

  The threat he posed to me.

  Desperately, I tried to cast out his mental image, closing my eyes and blocking the thought of him, but that too was an unattainable feat. He was there, smiling and beckoning, inviting me in with endless seductive zeal. What was it Severyn had told me? That my light would be too bright for any demon? That even in their darkness, I could shine? That advice seemed redundant in the face of the enormity of his admission. That the most powerful demon of all time could be here before me, even in the dreams, was unthinkable.

  “Yet it is true.”

  My eyes fluttered open at his words, evidence of the mental intrusion he liked to play as he dipped into my thoughts at will.

  “Please, stop.” The anxiety in my belly knotted until it was painful, gripping me for relief I couldn’t offer. What relief could there be compared to him?

  “You did not anticipate this?” He chuckled. “Good, that is pleasing.”

  “You can’t have me.” I doubled over in pain, clutching at my tummy as his dark laughter floated around me.

  “Can’t is not a word in my vocabulary, Cathy.”

  “I don’t want to be yours.”

  Panic ricocheted around my body at the pitiful plea. For the first time since Malium, there was genuine terror. I knew all about Satan. He was the leader of the seven Princes of Hell, and I knew if he wanted me, there’d be little I could do to stop him. The encompassing sense of doom and impotency was overwhelming, clawing at me and dragging me into despair.

  All of a sudden, as though the world could sense my misery, the shifting red satin sand beneath my feet came alive, the silky grains morphing into twisted expressions of agony and ecstasy before scarlet hands rose to grasp my ankles, pulling me down. Yelping, I skipped away, lifting one foot, then the other in vain attempts to avoid their clutches, but it was futile. There was no escaping the inevitable. Just as there would be no escaping Satan if his sights were set on me.

  “You think you do not.”

  I could hear his voice from somewhere high above me—above the scratching red fingers and the layers of frightened desperation—and even though I knew it was folly to see him as a savior, that’s how he seemed. That’s how his voice came across as it vibrated over me.

  “You think you know better, Cathy, but you do not. You think you can do without me, but you cannot. Your magic is electrifying, little mortal, but I can take it and make it more than it seems, just like I can take you and breathe life into you.”

  “But you’re death.” I panted, trying to drag my gaze from the horrendous, contorted, crimson faces. “You cannot promise life.”

  “You underestimate me.” He sounded amused at the idea. “It is foolish to do so. Even now, as you grapple with the sinking sands of your own anguish, you underestimate me.”

  “Oh God!” I screeched the ridiculous response as yet another hand reached for me. “Get them off me! Please get them off!”

  “Cath-y…”

  Satan’s voice sang my name like a childhood melody, and suddenly, I was able to lift my face and see him. Dark, dazzling eyes glistened back at me. “I have come to you in this dream. I have been kind and compassionate little mortal, yet still, you resist me.”

  “I can’t…” Wincing at the latest abrasion on my ankles, my voice died in my throat.

  What was I supposed to say? How was I ever going to explain the anguished struggle within? To have the ultimate temptation right there in my grasp—his looks, his charm, and his undoubted power—yet know I must resist it, my head wanted to explode with the intensity.

  “Yes, you can.” He smiled, once more offering me one of his large palms. The same hand he’d proffered in the last dream and in the one before that, and somehow, I knew he’d be there every night, teasing me with the prospect of that palm.

  Enticing and inviting me.

  “Just reach out and take it, Cathy. Take my hand, and all of this stops. All the pain, all the fear, and all the suffering. I can make it go away.”

  “I can’t.” I could barely even get the words out. “You know I can’t.”

  “I know you want to,” he continued, gesturing for me to let go and concur with what we both knew to be true. “I know you have been programmed to defy the demon, to counter and fight at every turn. I know all about the old dusty book, which once upon a time, you pledged allegiance to, but I know right now, you are having a crisis of faith.”

  “No.” I squeezed my eyes shut, grappling my foot away from a particularly grasping pair of hands. “My faith is strong.”

  “Not since Damon.” His tone was so self-assured and
knowing, but, damn him, he was right.

  It was about Damon.

  Getting into bed with him had been a serious error of judgment, and now, it was tainting everything—my ability to think, to evaluate, and if I was honest, my desire to even try. My whole life had been intended for one purpose—to inherit my mother’s powers and own them. To use them for love and light and protect the lives of those I was sworn to defend, but that one night, Damon had taken me down to Hell had changed it all. The illicit pleasure he’d torn from my body and the deal we’d bartered was the poison that infected my future, and now he’d sent me Satan—a power even I couldn’t hope to reckon with.

  “He did not send me. I came for you, Cathy.”

  The outstretched palm inched closer, his fingers long and alluring.

  “I’ve come to rescue you. To take you away from all the agony and confusion. To let you be you.”

  “What do you know about me?” I didn’t know why I asked. It didn’t matter what he knew or what he thought he knew.

  “Everything.”

  I shuddered at the answer, though I’d half expected it.

  “I know about the passion that threatens to rise and take control, but you fight to repress. I know about the rules and expectations of the role you’ve been born into, and I know about the endless red tape that keeps you confined.”

  Fuck, he did know me. He did understand!

  The truth was as shocking as it was riling, but I couldn’t let it blindside me. I couldn’t let Satan’s words lull me, however softly spoken.

  “I still can’t.” I gulped back on my verdict, my features screwing up as another twisted thing from below took a swipe, but this time, it felt like teeth against my flesh, like the sharp edges of fangs as they punctured my skin. “You know I can’t.”

  “I know you must.” He paused, and his face drew closer. “I know you must if you want to survive the trials sprawled out before you. If you want to be free to live the life you deserve. Why should your every waking moment be dedicated to others? Others who do not even know your name. Others who would not recognize you if they met you, let alone offer sacrifice. Why resist me when you can surrender? Yield and indulge in every dark promise you imagine awaits. I can make that happen. I can save you, Cathy. I can save you from the nothing you have become.”

  Oh God. His words sounded so good and so reasonable against the backdrop of grasping misery and torment. I didn’t want to be here anymore, and I didn’t want to do this—this endless fight. Night after night, evading him, even though I knew it was hopeless.

  Soul-destroying.

  But I knew I must fight. It was what I’d been taught to do. It was ingrained in me. Stand and fight. Call upon the light that lives in you and let it protect you.

  “I will not destroy that light.” His lips curled with the vow. “I am fascinated by it, just as I am captivated by you. Come…” He leaned closer, his fingers grazing my arm. “Let me show you. Let me help you.”

  “Please.” A surge of emotion spiked, rising to my throat and causing my voice to waver.

  “It is okay. Let it go, Cathy. Give in to me and just let it go.”

  His other hand brushed the side of my shoulder, and as our flesh collided, my sense of dread abated.

  Even though that was impossible.

  There was no way the leader of all the dark realm could inspire succor, but there it was. There was comfort where there should have been terror, desire where there should have been fear.

  What was happening to me?

  Severyn would say it was crazy, but where was she when I needed her? Where were any of them?

  In the end, it was left to me.

  I was the Guardian, left on these sinking sands, sworn to guard the souls of strangers.

  It may have once seemed a worthy role, but these days, it was more like a godforsaken life.

  It was my fate.

  Not Severyn’s. Not any of theirs, but all mine.

  Perhaps it didn’t matter if I won or if I lost.

  Yes, I was a human. I could never be as powerful as him. I was hungry, and my feelings were real.

  Why hide from what I felt, from what I yearned for?

  Why resist the irrefutable?

  The last conscious thought that passed through my mind as my hand rose to meet his resonated deep in my essence.

  There was no escaping this—the most irresistible of all grasps. I was always going to take his hand.

  I was always going to say yes.

  Chapter Six

  Satan

  That was it—one fleeting moment of union where our palms collided, where her gaze rose to mine. The moment she submitted, she became my prey. That was all it took. One tiny grasp of her hand and she was mine. Fingers resting on me, opening the door.

  Infestation was over.

  It was time for the next stage in my quest—my favorite part of the process—possession.

  I let her go, abandoning her to what little solace sleep would provide, but I was there waiting when she woke—ready to command what was mine, ready to take over.

  “There you are.” My words floated to her as she roused. “I thought you would never wake.”

  Cathy’s body tensed, and she shot straight up in bed, the covers falling from the awful nightgown she’d insisted on wearing.

  “You’re real.” Her stunned expression met my gaze, as though she seriously believed I had been nothing but a figment of her imagination. “You’re really here.”

  “Of course, I am here.” We had been through this, hadn’t we? “I am here for you, Cathy. To grease the wheels of those things you wish to explore. To make your fantasies real.”

  “Oh God.”

  I rolled my eyes at her predictable response. Whenever words eluded them, it was always that monolithic disappointment they spoke of, clinging to his promises as if they meant anything.

  “I am not that God,” I told her sternly. “But I am your god, Cathy, and you are mine.”

  “You know I don’t want that,” she whispered, her face blanching at my approach. “I don’t want you.”

  “And you know it does not matter.” I smiled at the assurance. “Your spirited words will not make any difference, not now you have accepted my invitation. Not now, you have let me in.”

  Her chin rose as I closed the distance between us. “What have I done?”

  “You know precisely what you have done, Miss Bateman. You have allowed the devil into your life. You have wrestled with him in your head, and you have lost.”

  She squeezed her eyes closed, and I sensed the resignation in her thoughts.

  I have done those things. He’s right. I gave in. I deserve this.

  I shook my head with a smile. Those who wallowed in the Christian faith were always so keen to allocate blame and flounder in their blessed guilt. It seemed the niche Cathy’s kin inhabited was no different. She was determined to punish herself for succumbing when it made no distinction to me in the slightest. In fact, I rather resented it.

  “And what fate is it that you fear you have been abandoned to?”

  Flickering open, her gaze widened. “I am to be yours.” Her voice trembled with the realization. “Your whore.”

  “My whore?” My lips twitched. “How illicit you make it sound, little Guardian, how tantalizing. I mean only to show you the world beyond your dominion. To offer you more pleasure than you have ever known.”

  She swallowed at my verdict, her pupils dilating, betraying her need.

  “Pleasure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Damon showed me pleasure.”

  “Nothing Damon did for you can be compared to what I have in mind. If he showed you the stars, I shall take you to them. We shall dance among them. We shall ensure they shine all the more brightly.”

  “You don’t mean to hurt me?” She shuffled back in the bed as I neared the structure. “You don’t want to destroy?”

  I suppressed the urge to smile at her query. Cathy was eve
n smarter than I had given her credit for. She knew how powerful her kind was, and she understood why I had come for her, but she underestimated one critical factor—her own, appealing allure. Even when I had considered playing the long game with her, I hadn’t realized how tempting she would be. How just one furtive glance would engage me. How my interest burgeoned with each of our interactions.

  I wanted Cathy, not just on my cock, but at my side. Yes, I would ravish her, but I wanted to understand more about the tiny mortal—more about her origins and the light that swirled within her. I sensed it there, and I hoped, once I was inside her, I could feed upon it. I would be an ethereal vampire, sucking the illumination from her.

  “I will not lie,” I murmured, hovering over the sheets in her direction. “My mission was to abolish that which threatened my kind, but now I have encountered you properly, I think containment might be the answer instead.”

  “Containment?”

  I sensed the sheer force of will it was taking for her to remain rooted to the spot and reply. I could tell how much she wanted to flee, but her brain was overriding her instincts. She wanted to stand up to me, to show defiance, but at the same time, she accepted her part in the fray. She had taken my hand. She was tempted by what I had to offer. The contradiction was strong inside her, and it was real, weighing her down as I moved to within inches of the place she huddled.

  “Yes.” I smiled, knowing the gesture would placate her. “I choose to make you mine, rather than annihilate, but that is a good thing, surely? I shall let you live. I shall help you to flourish.”

  “I don’t know,” she sniffed, her back straightening as I settled on the covers beside her. I knew the way I glided unsettled her. It always disconcerted mortals, but she hid it well. Cathy was stronger than most. “Perhaps it would be more honorable if you just ended it. For me, I mean.”

  Her focus lifted to mine, her gaze sincere. She really meant it. She preferred the sound of death to being my consort. I wanted to chortle at the idea but did not give in it. I would change her mind. I always changed their minds, and in the end, they rarely begged for death, though sometimes, they earned it.