Imp Forsaken (Imp Book 5) (20 page)

Read Imp Forsaken (Imp Book 5) Online

Authors: Debra Dunbar

Tags: #paranormal, #demons, #Fantasy, #hell, #angels, #elves, #urban fantasy

But your ability to devour… such hunger, barely within your control, coupled with your ability to store a vast amount of energy… you truly are remarkable. I long to examine you, see how your creators put you together in such a way and still gave you a measure of control.

Oh no—there would be no examining. If he got that close, he’d
really
find out the extent of my devouring ability, and I wouldn’t be sorry. No one got that close except for my angel.

“This is a breeding contract,” I interrupted. “Not a dissection one. You will receive the portion of my spirit per our agreement, but you will not be allowed any intimacy beyond that.”

He smiled, a puff of oily black curling from his body.
Of course not. But as we grow to know each other and you begin to understand the value there is in being my consort, you may change your mind.

My stomach turned at the thought. Demons don’t join, but Ahriman was old enough to have remembered when we did such things with angels before the war. He could keep that little fantasy to himself because I wasn’t going to be angel fucking with him. Not now, not ever. Ick.

“I need some time to wrap up matters within my household. Can I have two months before the start of our contract?”

That creepy smile turned to a frown, the smoke increasing slightly.
No. You’re late already, and you should have taken advantage of the time you had, rather than playing around with elves.

“I’m not ready.” My mind desperately searched for some reason I could give him to stall. I needed time to take out Feille at the very least. “I’ve… I’ve got some enemies I’m torturing and I don’t want to rush things.”

He paused, once again tapping his chin with a long finger.
Ah. Yes, these things should not be rushed. So few things bring joy anymore that we should all savor the moments that do. Two weeks.

I swallowed. Two weeks to assassinate an elf lord. Two weeks to try and convince Taullian to free the humans. Two weeks to regain whatever skills and abilities I could so Ahriman wouldn’t kill me for deception in contract.

“Thank you. I appreciate the extension.”

It seems we have a deal
. Ahriman seemed rather pleased. I, on the other hand, wanted to throw up.

He held out his hand and once again I placed mine in his. The long fingers close around my wrist, snaking a curl of black up the inside of my arm in a caress. This was the final act that announced to all of Hel our partnership. The demon moved in close, his physical form a mix of solid and vapor as he raised my arm upward. A memory flashed—me pressed against an abandoned gas station wall, terrified as an angel bit down on my arm. It seemed so long ago, and yet here I was again, this time with a demon, but equally terrified.

The foul smoke of him choked me, heavy and thick in my nose and lungs, leaving a greasy sheen where he touched my skin. He bent forward and opened his mouth, unhinging the lower jaw and extending several rows of serrated teeth. The whole process was painfully slow, and I got the impression he was deliberately delaying for effect, enjoying my discomfort and fear.

His teeth hesitated over the soft skin of my upper arm, right where the other tattoo had so recently been, and he rubbed his spirit-self along mine in a sudden grope. I recoiled within my physical form, trying to remain as far from his as possible. Ahriman chuckled and bit.

Gregory’s bite had been a painful pleasure, quickly shifting into all pleasure. Ahriman’s was all pain. His teeth shredded like a shark’s, but the tearing of flesh was only part of the agony. His smoky aura burned, spiraling down through my physical being to mark my spirit-self. No matter what shape I took, the mark would be there. Even without shape, my spirit-self would bear the mark for one thousand years, or until negation of the contract by death of either party, or by mutual agreement.

Unlike the angel’s binding, this one didn’t network deep within me. I felt no particular connection to Ahriman, no real bond. This was simply a way to mark me as his. Other household members would bear a sign of ownership, but this was a consort mark. In theory, I should be afforded especial respect. In theory, I’d be considered nearly a partner, able to represent Ahriman in certain matters. In theory.

As he pulled back, he snuck in another quick grope, which I was too slow to avoid. I’d need to watch this guy. Breeding contracts didn’t include this sort of thing, but I got the feeling Ahriman was going to set his own rules, and that he wouldn’t be above breaking our contract terms if he was particularly motivated. I’d just need to make sure I didn’t give him that motivation, which might mean expressing disinterest at intimacy rather than a more intriguing revulsion. I wouldn’t want to set off any predatory instincts, of which I’m sure Ahriman had many.

He stepped back, and I forced my eyes up to meet his glowing, red ones.

I will see you in two weeks, Az.

“Two weeks.”

His physical form shuddered, dissolving into thick, black smoke that rose in a tall column then dropped to spread wide across the floor. With a flash of light, the smoke was gone, and I stood in an empty room with a platter of raw meat and a decapitated corpse. One thousand years. At least it wasn’t an eternity.

17

B
y the time I’d walked the four-hour trek to my home from Ahriman’s it was late afternoon. I was exhausted and starving for something beyond raw meat or elf food. My house was lit up like a Christmas tree, and I remembered I’d promised my household a party. If someone had managed to get beer and hot wings, I was going to kiss them.

I walked through the door to face a group of expectant demons. Dar and Leethu stood toward the front, as their status allowed, eyeing me with raised brows and big eyes. I knew what they wanted to know. Turning over my arm, I showed them the raw, chewed underneath with an indistinct black smudge. The entire room erupted into cheers. Demons grabbed each other, crushing ribs and head butting so hard I heard the cracks of skulls. Dar and Leethu enveloped me in more gentle hugs. I was the only one not happy about the next thousand years.

“Oh Ni-ni! I worried… I mean, I know how you are and was concerned you and Ahriman might not come to an agreement. I’m so happy for you. You truly deserve this.”

I winced at the thought that I deserved a thousand years of servitude to a demon as cruel and unfeeling as Ahriman. There would be pain, quite possibly rape, and maybe even death. I hoped that I deserved better than this.

I felt Dar’s furred snout against my cheek. He pulled my hair with his usual sign of affection and made a snapping noise in my ear. He, of all my household, should understand. He’d been my friend, my closest sibling for as long as I could remember. Pulling back, his beady, crimson eyes looked into mine.

“It will be okay, Mal,” he said gently. “You’ll see. You’ve just been with the humans too long, and it will take you a while to come back to being a demon. A consort! To Ahriman! Just think of what that means. No more worrying about other demons trying to kill you, no more jockeying for position or status. All of Hel will be at your feet.”

I had an uncomfortable feeling that instead I was going to be crushed under Ahriman’s feet. I didn’t obey, was disrespectful and spent nearly every waking moment in some sort of hot water. Gregory was a stick in the mud but he loved me in spite of our differences—or perhaps because of them. I doubted Ahriman would be so willing to change. Instead, I could see him bending me to his will until I shattered into a million pieces.

I took a deep breath and ran a hand over Dar’s face, tugging at his whiskers. It was done. I’d go on being an imp, being Samantha Martin, and whatever happened, happened. As always, I placed my future in the hands of fate, hoping that luck still continued to smile on my antics with her favor.

The play fighting slowly wound down as the demons turned toward me, their faces happy and expectant. Party. That’s right, we were supposed to party. I stared back at them, wondering what to say. I felt trapped, desperate.

“Food, drink, games and mischief. Let’s celebrate.”

The room erupted again, and Leethu danced off to gather drinks. Dar hesitated, tilting his head as he eyed me with concern.

“You okay, Mal?”

I forced a smile. “Yeah. I just need a few moments alone to absorb it all. Can you run this shindig for me? I’ll be back before dawn.”

He hesitated, his eyes searching mine. “If you need me, you ask. Anything. I’ll always have your back.”

This smile was genuine. “Thanks, Dar.”

He headed off into the crowd and the party began in earnest as I snuck off, out the back door, down a nearby lane and out through the grasslands toward the swamps. It was early evening, and if I jogged a bit, I could make it to the edge of the marsh.

The swamps are unforgiving to human flesh. I tried to ignore the relentless bites of the insects, and how the sharp reeds tore at my legs as I waded through the muddy water. Bitey fish that thrived in the murky shallows darted around my feet, tickling with their whiskers. I longed to grab one and eat it but I was afraid it might be poisonous to my human stomach. I’d have no way to negate the poison, no way to fix any damage it did. How did humans endure this life, constantly walking the tightrope of survival? It was nerve wracking continually trying to censor my behavior to keep alive and healthy.

Sitting down, I let my ass sink into the soft mud and felt the water rise up around my breasts. Ahriman. Two weeks. In two weeks Taullian would make his move against Feille, and I would waltz into a gilded cage for a thousand years. And if I defied the ancient demon and tried to kill Feille, that gilded cage would turn into something far more unpleasant.

Why bother? The elves hated me. I didn’t owe them shit. Taullian was an ass, Feille even more of an ass. I’d met a few that seemed okay, but what had they ever done for me? If I were in trouble, none of them would lift a finger.

Ditto for the demons. With the exception of Leethu and Dar, most of my household would sell me out without a second thought. I knew in my heart that none of the demons would pay my warnings any heed, none of them would care if others were taken, drained, killed—especially if the ones being targeted were Lows. That was the way of my kind—everyone for himself. Individuals would surely fall; it would only be through combined strength that we could possibly hope to defeat the combined force of six elven kingdoms.

Why bother? I should enjoy my remaining two weeks and just let the chips fall where they may.

I sat up higher in the cool water, feeling the strands of slime cling to my skin. Kirby. All the humans would suffer even more if Feille ruled all the elves. That poor human girl from my cell—was she still alive? How many more would end up like her? It seems like I was the only one in all of Hel that cared about their plight. And the Lows…. I thought of the one who had been trapped in Columbia Mall, now in my household, as well as the Low who couldn’t do more than change colors. I thought of Stab. I owed him. I’d promised to save him, and I’d failed. What happened to him should never happen to another Low.

But Ahriman…. I shuddered, the water suddenly feeling uncomfortably cold. He’d forbidden me to interfere in this matter, and if he found out I’d defied him, the punishment would be horrific—not just for me, but for my household. I’d need to protect them and be willing to accept the probable consequences of my actions, even while trying like fuck to ensure I got away scot-free. I wasn’t sure I could do that. In fact, I was fairly certain I couldn’t. I may be an imp, but I did have a modicum of common sense, a tiny bit of self-preservation instinct.

Closing my eyes, I tried to put it all out of my mind, to relax, forget about the insects and the reeds, the blisters that covered my body, my lower digestive system rebelling against whatever meat I’d eaten at Ahriman’s house. The mud sucked at my sinking feet, soft and slippery. Sweat beaded across my forehead and rolled down my face, pooling between my breasts, and under them. I felt my hair, damp and heavy against my back.

I’d spent most of my childhood in the swamps, hiding from Paquit and other siblings that loved to torture me. It was the one place I felt safe. My very own Garden of Eden. My past and childhood seemed right within reach, as if it were happening concurrent with the present, with the endless intertwined threads of my future. I could stay here forever. Hide from the elves, Ahriman, all the stupid responsibilities I’d collected over the last year.

I relaxed in the swamp and watched the moons drop below the horizon, waited until the pink of dawn turned blisteringly hot. A splash as a bitey fish leapt above the water. Insects burst into song. The mating call of a Svelton sounded, and then a reply. Noise filled my ears and joined with the sensations against my skin, the smells of swamp in the hot sun filling my nose. With a sigh I opened my eyes and stood, making my way out of the swamp and back toward my house. The time to spend eternity hiding in the swamps, or under rocks, had long passed. Too many had died; too many still suffered, and I found that I got a major charge out of setting things right, evening the score. But there was one person I needed to consult, the one who had become my moral compass. I might not always take Wyatt’s advice; I might not always agree with him, but he grounded me. He made me human, and I valued his opinion.

The party was still in full swing when I returned, a significant amount of furniture smashed and being used as makeshift weapons. I snuck through my own house, kicking everyone out of the room before turning to my mirror.

“Wyatt, did I wake you?” I tried to figure out the time. Was it afternoon there, or four in the morning?

I heard him laugh. “Since when have I gone to bed at noon?”

Many times, in my arms, after a few hours of passion. I closed my eyes for a moment, willing the ache of longing away. It was no time to let my feelings for Wyatt overwhelm me.

“I need your advice.”

His voice became serious. “What’s wrong, Sam? Is it something to do with the elves?”

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