The Demon and the Succubus (14 page)

A
heavy weight pressed Amalya into the mattress and she twisted in an effort to remove the uncomfortable pressure.

“Struggle all you want, bitch. It’s more fun that way.”

A flash of panic made her surface from her exhaustion more effectively than even a slap to the face would’ve. The stench of fetid breath paired with a neck-ruffling gravelly voice made Amalya force her eyes open.

Bloodred eyes filled her vision and it took her a moment to look past those to see the pasty-pale face of the demon who currently held her down.

“What do you want?” Her voice sounded small and frail and she mentally railed at herself for showing such weakness in front of a demon.

“I want whoever carries her blood, but for now, I’ll take you instead.”

Amalya tried to make sense of the words. They were true, but that didn’t help her much.

Apparently, this was the one demon that wasn’t after her for the bounty Semiazas had placed on she and her sisters. Which was definitely a lucky break but still didn’t explain his cryptic words. The demon couldn’t mean rape—any demon could sense within seconds that she was a succubus and would willingly take his essence and the energy that would give her.

Which meant he wanted to take something she wouldn’t willingly part with.

Fear sliced through her as his grip on her wrists tightened, holding them firm against the bed on either side of her head as he leaned down to snuffle against her neck like an overeager puppy.

At full strength she wouldn’t be able to fight off a demon, let alone in her current state where ass-scooting down the stairs had done her in. Frustration churned through her like bitter acid on her tongue.

Sharp pain lanced through her neck and then numbed as the demon licked at the bite wound with a roughened tongue. Amalya cringed away from the contact and swallowed back her panic as a warm trickle of liquid hit her shoulder.

I’m going to bleed to death
.
This is not how I planned to die
.

A feral growl next to her ear made her stiffen, but she held perfectly still and conserved her strength. She would have to take the first good opening that presented itself and use whatever strength she could to escape.

As the demon pulled back to look at her, he snapped his teeth close to her face and laughed when she winced.

She glared up at the demon with the most defiant expression she could muster. “What do you want?”

“Where is the descendant of Caldriel? I taste none of her inside you.”

“Caldriel?” The name didn’t sound familiar, but demons rarely gave their real names since it allowed anyone with that knowledge a certain amount of power over them. And Caldriel definitely sounded like a demon name.

“Don’t play with me, succubus. If you tell me where to find the one I seek, I’ll kill you quickly and without pain.” He licked his lips, his red eyes darkening. “But if you don’t, I’ll take my time and only I will enjoy this.”

A macabre, hysterical laugh bubbled up through Amalya and she swallowed it back. Talk about horrible options. And even worse, because of her gift, she knew the demon meant every word.

She bit her lip as she searched for a way out.

Jethro and Levi had to be somewhere nearby. She wasn’t sure how she’d gotten back upstairs in bed, but she had to believe the two men were still alive and safe. Neither of the men was a match for the demon, and she refused to call them up here only to lead them to their slaughter. Which meant it was up to her to find a way out of this situation without involving either of them.

She forced herself to take a breath and shove away the fear that tried to intrude. She’d been in more dire circumstances before.

Granted, none of them when she was so drained of energy, but she had to believe there was a way through—one that didn’t involve anyone besides the demon dying.

She smiled and then winced when the movement made the wound at her neck throb. “I haven’t learned that name, but I’ve met many demons. If you give me more information, I may be able to help you. I—”

He laughed, cutting her off, the evil sound like a slimy caress against her skin. “Helping me is the furthest thing from your mind, bitch.” He leaned forward and licked a long wet line up her cheek, his warm tongue reminding her of raw liver.

Bile inched its way up the back of Amalya’s throat and she clenched her teeth, battling back the nausea with pure willpower. Throwing up on the demon didn’t seem like a good escape strategy.

“I can smell others inside the house. Call them up here. One of them may be able to lead me to Caldriel. And it’ll be more fun to kill you while they watch.”

She met the demon’s red gaze. “No.”

His shaggy red brows furrowed as he studied her, his eyes swirling with confusion followed by disappointment. “No?”

“No,” she confirmed.

In a move so quick she barely registered it before the pain hit her like a punch to the stomach, the demon let go of her left arm, slashed open her shirt, and sank his long fangs into the flesh just above her left breast.

Searing pain tore through her and Amalya clenched her teeth to keep from crying out. She shoved at the demon with her free left hand, but his bulky form didn’t budge. She wished he’d let go of her other hand so she could reach her switchblade, but it was tucked just inside the sheath worked into the right cup of her bra, totally out of her reach.

Hot blood bubbled up from the wound and the sloppy sounds of sucking filled the room. With each pull of the demon’s mouth, pain lanced through her as he drank in her energy and life force.

She flailed under him, trying to unseat him even as each movement brought fresh agony stabbing through her. Most of her body was trapped under the sheets and comforter, which limited her options and left her at his mercy.

“Scream,” he whispered with his fangs still buried deep inside her flesh. As his lips lifted from her skin, hot blood trickled down her chest and side cooling as it finally dripped onto the comforter.

“No,” she gritted out, praying that she passed out before she gave in to the urge to scream.

He laughed, the evil sound scraping along her flesh like sandpaper. “Then let the fun begin.”

He yanked his fangs out of her, ripping a chunk of flesh out with it and sending fiery agony shooting through Amalya until spots of white flashed in front of her vision like dozens of tiny lightbulbs.

When the pain receded to a constant dull throb, she realized she was panting as if she’d just run ten miles. Clammy sweat covered her skin and her stomach roiled, threatening revolt.

“Welcome back, sweetheart.” His leering smile only lasted a second before he struck forward, clamping his jaws around her wrist until the loud crack of breaking bone and a tidal wave of pain filled Amalya’s consciousness.

He worried the wrist like a dog with a play rope and tears filled Amalya’s eyes, spilling down her cheeks as wave after wave of agony rolled over her, stealing her breath.

When the burn inside her lungs outstripped the other points of pain, she forced herself to suck in a breath. The sudden influx of oxygen worsened the round of flashes in her vision and added a new dimension of vertigo that made her stomach clench.

She clamped her eyes shut as the soft, smug laughter of the demon taunted her. “A brave one. Just means I’ll have to get more creative.”

The metallic scent of her own blood filled her nostrils and Amalya whimpered as the demon lifted the damaged remnants of her shirt and nipped painfully at the sensitive skin of her stomach.

She tensed, knowing that if he gutted her, she wouldn’t be able to keep herself from screaming. Not only that, but everyone might end up dead.

Forcing her uninjured arm to move, she grabbed the switchblade from her bra, pressed the button, and stabbed the demon. A surprised shout was all she heard before a hard stab of agony seared through her and a wrenching scream of anguish filled the air around her.

Raphael
stood stunned, staring down at the man who sat cross-legged on the floor in rumpled, but expensive-looking Italian slacks and a shirt.

Father?
Had he heard the man correctly?

To most males, that one word would invoke a frantic mental flip through a Rolodex of women he’d had sex with. In Raphael’s case, being an Archangel, he would’ve known at the time of conception.

And yet . . .

The man who slowly stood in front of him, easily matching his height, had the exact same eyes Raphael saw in the mirror every day. Not to mention, the man had summoned him using blood, which meant, by definition, Raphael’s blood ran through his veins.

There the similarities ended, but those along with the blood summons were enough to convince Raphael that somehow despite all odds, this man was his son.

But how?

Raphael slowly stepped closer until they stood toe to toe. He met the man’s hazel gaze, opening himself up to peer inside the man’s soul.

And nothing happened.

“I’ll be damned.”

The man laughed. “I find that hard to believe, since if I’m not mistaken, you’re an angel.”

Only high-level Archangels and a few of the higher-level fallen could soul-gaze. And those of that same blood were the only ones immune to it.

Raphael couldn’t help the grudging smile that curved the side of his lips at the calmly stated comment.

“I’m Raphael, an Archangel for God. And however awkward this situation is, given all the evidence before me, I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“My name is Obediah Levi Spencer, Duke of Ashford, and you are apparently my biological father.”

Raphael looked at the ring the man still held in his palm, and understanding slowly began to dawn. He groaned, picked up the ring, and tapped it to his forehead. “Caldriel.” It had been nearly three hundred years since he’d seen her, and now everything that had happened that evening became clear.

Obediah nodded, the detached amused expression on his face totally at odds with the churning emotions Raphael sensed just under the surface. “At least you remember her, that’s something.”

“Obediah—”

“Levi.”

Raphael nodded. “Levi. Maybe we should sit. This may take a while to explain.”

Levi waved away the comment. “If you’re going to give me the ‘mechanics of impregnating a demon’ talk, you’re a few hundred years too late.”

“Not exactly what I had in mind.” Raphael sat on the small twin bed, his leathers creaking with the effort. He motioned for Levi to join him and waited while a visible war of impatience raged behind the younger man’s eyes.

When Levi remained standing, Raphael shrugged and continued. “You are actually the biological offspring of Caldriel and your father, the Duke of Ashford.”

One dark brow rose in a clearly arrogant, mocking gesture. “Even though your own blood summoned you here and I’m very long lived for a half human, half demon, you’re trying to tell me Ashford was my father?” Levi snorted and turned to leave.

“Wait.” When Levi only slowed, Raphael continued. “I don’t deny my blood runs through your veins, but it was Ashford’s first.”

Levi whirled on him, anger turning his hazel eyes nearly black when a woman’s agonized scream rent the air.

The anguished sound
of Amalya’s scream wrenched through Levi as he ran full-out toward the master bedroom.

A blur of movement as Raphael pushed past threw Levi off balance and made him stumble. Levi reached out to steady himself against the wall and regain his footing before he continued his mad dash toward the bedroom. By the time he turned into the bedroom doorway, the sounds of Jethro clamoring up the stairs behind blended with the noise of the pandemonium before him.

Raphael, dressed entirely in black leathers, fought a stocky man that reeked of demon. The rest of the room was mired in the stench of blood and freshly spilled intestines.

Icy fear squeezed Levi’s chest as he tried to see past the battle to the bed where he’d left Amalya. But the two combatants’ movements were so fast, they seemed a constant blur to Levi.

Raphael and the demon circled and exchanged blows as Levi’s fear ratcheted inside him until his ears rang with the overload of adrenaline flooding his body.

Concern for Amalya drove him forward.

He crisscrossed his arms to reach the daggers tucked in either side of his waistband and in one continuous motion slid them out of their sheaths and threw them at the back of the demon’s skull.

Both blades found their mark with an audible thunk, and the demon stumbled but didn’t fall.

Raphael stepped forward, taking advantage of the demon’s inattention, and in a quick motion snapped the demon’s neck.

A loud pop echoed through the room, which signaled the demon being sucked back to Hell as its physical form was destroyed.

“Dear God.” The anguish in Jethro’s voice brought Levi’s attention back toward the bed and he had to swallow hard as his brain worked to make sense of what he saw there.