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

by Felicity Brandon

  “My writing desk, please, Master.”

  She sounded hopeful again, the resonance of her voice making me even harder. I loved having that authority over her—this one pathetic gesture could make her so absurdly happy when I had control over every other aspect of her existence. Fuck, this was the woman the Council had sent me here to deal with, the one I had spent hours musing on, the Guardian deemed to be significant, Satan himself had been dispatched to manage her, and now look at her. Nude and punished, she had been fucked, humbled, and was thoroughly contained. If I could buy her compliance with a few minutes at a desk, then so be it. Just because I had the power to fetter her did not mean I wanted the bondage to be a permanent arrangement. Contrary to popular opinion, crude displays of supremacy were not really my style. I preferred the long game, the slow, systematic approach to getting what I wanted, resorting to cataclysmic action only when needed, not just for show.

  “The one downstairs?” I had seen the small, rickety thing tucked away in her dining room.

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “So be it.” Holding onto her middle, I transported us both to the dining room, my human form emerging dressed from the waist down while she remained naked beside me. Placing us both on our feet, I gestured toward the object of her desire, manifesting the pen and paper she required. “Go to it and do what you need to,” I ordered. “You shall have your thirty minutes, then we depart.”

  Her gaze flitted from the desk back to me, as though it was some sort of test she was certain to fail, and I could hear the questions rolling through her mind.

  What if this is a trap?

  What if he doesn’t mean it?

  What if—

  “Cathy.” My voice was sterner. “You now have twenty-nine minutes. If you want to waste them standing here and assessing me, that is your prerogative, but you will not get a moment longer.”

  That brought her feet to attention, taking her in the direction of the desk, though she continued to watch me as she moved.

  “Are you going to wait with me, Master?” She backed into the small wooden chair, wincing slightly as her bare ass met the hard seat.

  My lips curled at her distress, though I was more impressed with the way her gaze never left mine. “I will be right here,” I assured her. “If you need this time to order your thoughts, then go ahead.”

  Naturally, I would be able to access whatever it was that troubled her myself from her thoughts, but it seemed oddly fair to permit her these few minutes of personal space. Hell knew, there would be virtually none of it once I had her back in my lair, my own personal concubine to fornicate with on demand. My smile widened at the tempting prospect. For everything I had been through over the years, I truly was a lucky old devil.

  I watched on in silence as she picked up the pen, and leaning over the desk, began to write. The deed consumed her, and while the lines flew over the paper, Cathy did not glance up once. I propped myself up against the door, witnessing her devotion to the unknown cause, and trying to decide if I would intrude on this moment of obvious privacy. I had never promised her that I would stay out of her personal thoughts, of course, and sensibly, she had never asked it of me. Likely, she realized I would be able to access whatever words she sprawled and had accepted it with the same dull enthusiasm she had ceded to my will, but that did not bother me. This was not a popularity contest, and I had no desire for her excitement about our journey. We were going regardless of her view on the subject, and I reasoned, with enough time and pleasure, I could bring her around to my way of thinking.

  In the end, there was no decision at all. Whatever compelled Cathy to spend her final few minutes on this earth at her writing desk also demanded my attention, and without querying the troublesome morality of my verdict, I sunk into her consciousness, reading the scribbled lines from through her eyes.

  Sevvy,

  So, it was some type of letter then? Correspondence to the woman who had appeared in her thoughts on more than one occasion?

  If you read this note, I am already lost, gone with him—to the place of rising flames and hellfire. It’s what I deserve, Sevvy. I want you to know, he didn’t take an unworthy prisoner. I was contemptible. I deserve all his dark attention.

  I wanted to laugh at her dramatic self-judgment but chose not to alert Cathy to my presence in her mind.

  I don’t want you to judge me, Severyn, but I know you must. I know my attempts to do the right thing—the moral thing—are all abandoned. I should have done better. I should have vanquished the first fiend who crept into my head, but somehow, I wasn’t strong enough. I succumbed. I gave myself to him.

  But I sent him away—or I thought I did. I thought it was over until a second one found me, and this one was so strong. Too strong.

  Sevvy, it was Satan. He’s in my head—all the time. Goading, teasing, and taunting me with words I shouldn’t hear and things I can never unsee, and he’s going to win. I know he will. Hell, he’s already won.

  If you’re reading this, I’m already gone.

  Slipping from her consciousness, I tipped my head back against the wall behind me, grinning as I replayed the words of her letter once again. For all her resistance, it had come to this, Cathy’s awareness that the victory would be mine. I would take her body and the light that bloomed within it, and in time, I would seize her soul as well. For all their might, fortitude and technology, no mortal had ever produced a way to rid them of me. My kind would haunt humans forever, and like a burning candle, their defeat was only a matter of time. On a long enough timeline, we always got what we wanted.

  I wanted Cathy to bathe in the illumination that seared within her before I consumed it altogether. I wanted the reverence and adoration of my kind at the capture of the woman, to return to Solomon and relieve him of his duties, and the unadulterated lust I knew Cathy would offer, and in return, she got one lousy letter to a nobody. I ran my tongue over my teeth. It seemed like a fair exchange to me. I was damned to revel in her diminishing fortitude, while Cathy—she was damned for quite another reason. I would offer her devotion until she could take no more, and then, when she begged me for a reprieve, I would worship her some more.

  Epilogue

  Lucifer

  The whole universe, it seemed, was obsessed with lust. It had forgotten the natural order to things, that everything existed in equilibrium with each other, that no one iniquity was fiercer than another. So focused was it, on the sins of the flesh, that it had taken its eyes off the ball, had let the other sins grow like fungus in all the damp, warm places of the world. Sitting on my stony throne, I smiled with glee at the fate of humanity. Its plight would be severe and without mercy—no more than it deserved—though, we, the ancient evil, were also guilty of favoring lust above other wicked deeds of late.

  Not only had my progeny, Lucien, become obsessed with his frail little writer, but it seemed even our lord Satan had seen the appeal. Not that he had told me so, of course. Naturally, our distinguished leader had set out on his mission to destroy the pesky Guardian who had swelled to become a concern, but I sensed there was much more going on at the Earth’s surface than just outright warfare. For a start, he had been gone far too long for that. If the menace the mortal posed had been so severe, Satan could not have handled it alone, he would have contacted us for support by now, yet he had not. For some days, I had tried to reach him, but whenever I tried, there was nothing. No response. No sign of him at the surface at all. It seemed, whatever filled his hours required his full attention, and that could only mean one thing. Asmodeus might be the overlord of lust, but there was not a single one of us who was averse to its enticing effects. Either Satan had found a number of enchanting distractions to occupy his time—something none of us could blame him for—or… I straightened at the only other possibility, envy pricking within me that he had chosen to manage this threat alone. It was just possible that the threat he had left to contain had proved to be something of a temptation herself. Damon had mentioned how ae
sthetically pleasing the Guardian had been, so perhaps she had bewitched him somehow? I imagined their human guises entwined, the sight of firm, pliant flesh pounding another being, the sounds of their union echoing through my head.

  How long had it been since I had taken a mortal as my own? I lifted my head at the perturbing query, noticing for the first time, the young demons who scurried left and right in my quarters. They were conceited creatures, just like me, brimming with their own vanity as they sauntered past, dragging the latest condemned soul beside them. It was amusing to witness them at work, more strings in my already inflated bow, but still, the sense of what was missing gnawed at my insides. It was unlike me to focus so heavily on that which I did not possess when my pride determined I had so much already, yet as I glowered blankly into the shadows, I could not deny it, the idea that everyone else seemed to be reveling in carnal debauchery riled me. I coveted what they all seemed to cherish, desired the depravities they demanded, and why should I not? Was I not also worthy of the lasciviousness? Was I, the demon of pride, not commendable for erotic fulfillment?

  “Master?” Taylor’s scratchy tone interrupted my private complaints, and I turned my head to find the gnarly demon at my feet.

  “What is it?” I snapped, irritated to have been snatched from my thoughts.

  “Master Beelzebub has asked for your presence at council.”

  My brows knitted. “Council?” There was no council meeting today, and even if I had missed an arranged meeting, why would he not just send the usual summon, alerting me of the requirement?

  “Yes, Master.” Taylor retreated as I rose to my full height, his deference even managing to annoy me as I strode away. Something was not right, and no doubt, the weaker demon could sense the rising tide.

  I found Beelzebub in Satan’s throne room, the large, cavernous place empty, save for his hulking frame.

  “Why have you called me?” I lifted my chin as his green gaze fell over me. “And why send a minion to me when you could do so easily yourself?”

  “I have something that might interest you, brother.” Beelzebub smiled, his lips curling to reveal a row of yellow, jagged fangs. “I sensed you would want to see it before the others.”

  Interest piqued, I stepped forward. I knew he was flattering me for some specific reason, inferring my significance over the rest of the princes, yet I could not deny I relished the experience. After all, I was the most important. As ancient as Satan himself, I had only given way to his supremacy because I did not have the appetite for leadership. Better to be the one at his side, the one who caught the eye of the enemy, the one who seized the initiative, the one with the smile which blinded them. That was my role. I was the sweet-talking one, the cajoling salesman of the group.

  “Okay, Beelzebub.” I mirrored his grin. “You have my attention. What is it you speak about?”

  “A mortal.” His green eyes flashed me. “A mortal on the edge, just where we like them.”

  I sighed. “Does our realm not brim with them?” I asked, glancing around at the rocky cavern that served as Satan’s domain. “Is Hell not littered with such souls?”

  “Not like this.” Beelzebub opened his palm, revealing the image of a woman. “This is one that will appeal to your nature, Lucifer.”

  I looked closer. The woman was sitting, watching her reflection in a looking glass, turning this way, then that, to garner the complete view. She looked to be around forty but was in good shape, dark hair spilling over her face, framing mesmerizing green eyes that widened at what they saw.

  “Another vain mortal?” My brow rose at the assessment. Yes, she was attractive, but what did that matter? Souls like hers were plentiful in these parts. “What of it?”

  “But this one is on the brink.” Beelzebub’s gaze intensified. “Hours away from slipping into our realm for good, and I thought of you as soon as I saw her.”

  I leaned closer, staring into the near-transparent image of the woman. She certainly seemed healthy enough, and there was no obvious reason for her imminent demise.

  “What happens to her? She seems well enough.”

  Beelzebub laughed. “That is the beauty of it, brother. Tomorrow, she will undertake cosmetic surgery. Apparently, she is not satisfied with the size of her assets and has asked a rather unscrupulous surgeon to rectify the perceived problem.”

  I shook my head at her foolishness. I was all for conceit, but paying another to butcher was not the answer, and based on what I could see, there was absolutely no reason for her insecurity at all.

  “Shame,” I concluded after several moments watching the woman eyeing herself. “She seems pleasing as she is.”

  “My thoughts entirely,” Beelzebub replied. “Which brings me to my proposition.”

  My head rose to meet his smirk. “What proposition?”

  “The one I am about to make.” He closed his fist, the image of the woman vanishing between his deformed knuckles. “I know you, brother. I have known you a long time, and I know what troubles you.”

  “Is that right?” I countered, beginning a circuit of his body. “Pray tell, Beelzebub, what is it that you think you know?”

  “You seek what some of the others have. A mortal of your own to consume your long hours.”

  I stopped walking at his words, my head lifting with indignation. “Who are you to tell me what I want?” I demanded. “Think first to your own arena before you preach to mine.”

  Anger spiked in me, though the response was irrational. By all accounts, Beelzebub’s intuition was correct. He had picked up on the need growing within me, and my fervor cooled as his paws rose into the air in a gesture of conciliation.

  “I have just noticed how preoccupied you have seemed,” he said with a shrug. “How quiet and unenthusiastic. It is not like you, brother, and it troubles me.”

  “And you think this woman can help entertain me?” I huffed, blowing smoke into the air from my snout.

  “Perhaps.” He grinned again. “This one is a good fit for you, I think, and even if I am proved wrong, she could prove a welcome distraction for a while.”

  I mused on his analysis and was forced to agree. With such an attractive face and pleasing body, she could prove to be very welcome. “But if the butcher surgeon does his job tomorrow, she could be mine anyway?”

  “A mutilated version of her, perhaps,” he mused. “And there is no guarantee that she will be allocated to your lair, Lucifer. In Satan’s absence, any of our number could try to claim her for themselves.”

  My lips twitched at his assertion. It was true, since our master’s departure, things had been rather fraught. For all his effort, Solomon was not up to the task. His attention usually concentrated on the pretty little thing he kept leashed at council meetings and not where it should have been.

  “So, what are you suggesting?” I leaned closer toward him. “And, I say this with respect, why does it concern you?”

  Beelzebub’s brow rose. “You know how I have always envied you, Lucifer,” he praised. “I know you could secure the woman soon enough, talking her out of her needless surgery, in return for her time and attention.”

  So, now I understood, of course—Beelzebub fancied the woman for himself but wanted me to do the groundwork. “And what would you gain from this?”

  “Nothing more than a little carnality when the time was right,” he suggested with an evil grin. “You take the girl as your own. Play with her, use her, decorate your chambers with her and help her fill the long hours, and in return, when you were ready, I would get to taste her fruit, too.” His green gaze brimmed with excitement at the idea, and I smiled in spite of myself. It seemed Beelzebub’s enthusiasm was infectious.

  “You would want to borrow her?” I was open to the idea, though still unconvinced about whether this desperate little mortal was truly what I needed to take the edge off.

  “Or just share her with you? I have found similar satiating arrangements with others of late. I would take one day of carnality as
the price for the introduction.”

  I laughed at his audacity, but I had to admit, I liked the idea. “Show her to me again.”

  Obligingly, Beelzebub’s palm opened, revealing the ghostly image of the woman. She was brushing her hair now, her long dark tresses covering the swell of her breasts she sought to disfigure.

  “Perhaps there is something in the plan,” I mused aloud. “Where did you find her?”

  “Just in the gloom,” he told me. “Where all the desperate people are. I scour the shadows looking for something alluring. A diamond in the rough.”

  I smiled at his analogy.

  Perhaps it was time I added another diamond to my collection…

  The End

  Conclude Cathy and Satan’s twisted obsession in Exorcise Me, found exclusively in the

  Duty Bound with Bite anthology!

  http://mybook.to/DutyBoundBite

  Ready to devour more in the Demonology series?

  Never fear, there are more scorching stand-alone paranormal romances for you to enjoy!

  Devour Dare Me!

  http://mybook.to/DemonologyDareMe

  Demolish Defy Me!

  http://mybook.to/DemonologyDefyMe

  Consume Curse Me!

  http://mybook.to/DemonologyCurseMe

  Full-length paranormal romance novels with no cliff hanger endings.

  Contains elements of menage, power exchange and sexy demons.

  Beware: spirituality and religion, but not as you know it!

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