A Demon's Wrath (22 page)

Drake frowned for a moment and then he
snorted.
Such bravery,
he thought for a mere human girl who
he could snap lifeless with a flick of his hand. But she fascinated
him. She stirred something deep within his being that he couldn’t
deny. And demon’s blood! She was enchanting. Why men didn’t fall at
her feet was beyond him. Why men found those three useless, pale
women beautiful was beyond him. But this one, this one had spirit.
This one he’d gladly take with him to enjoy. It would be a pleasure
to have her. Aye, a pleasure indeed.

“What made you think I’d kill you now? It
would be too easy,” he said softly. “You will make me another
pearl, my sweet.”

Cecelia looked at him, confused as to the
meaning of his words. “But I thought…”

“You thought wrong,” he snapped. “I intend
to have you make me another pearl.” He shifted his gaze to her
lips. “And I intend to enjoy it in the process.”

Cecelia blinked and before she knew what was
happening, he had his lips pressed hard on hers.

Cecelia’s whole being shuddered in response
as his warm tongue clicked the softness of her lips and then
plunged into her mouth, stroking and caressing her sweetness. Just
as quickly, he moved back, releasing her from his hot embrace.

He scooped her in his strong arms, which
surprised Cecelia and made her squeak, and carried her to his
steed. There he tossed her on top of Wildfire, climbed on, and
nudged the animal to start.

They were riding fast, and Cecelia had to
hold on tight so she wouldn’t fall. Drake noticed and pulled her
into his arms as the steed released its wings and started ascending
in the air. Cecelia gasped and held on to him, her small hands
tight on the thickness of his arms.

Once they were up in the air and flying
steadily, Cecelia was able to relax and turned her gaze to her
captor. “Where are you taking me?”

Drake turned his smoldering gray eyes to her
and gave her a slight smile. “To your prison.”

She swallowed. What did she expect? Aye, he
would toss her into his merciless, dark dungeon, and then he’d
torture her until he was satisfied. By then, she’d probably be
dead, for she’d heard of the horrendous method these demons used to
torture their prisoners, and none would last that long. A day at
most.

So she was to be killed by torture. As he
had said as much, he would not kill her himself. And he wouldn’t
even allow her to see her mother and brother one last time.

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she willed
them away angrily. Nay, she would not cry, least not in front of
him.

Drake scolded and nudged her face to his so
he could see properly in the dimness of the passing moonlight. He
noted the defiant brown eyes, the flushed cheeks, and sensuous lips
he’d kissed many times and, be damn, still wanted to do more. He
remembered the softness and warmth of her flesh against his, and
his blood rushed with pleasure once again.

Aye, he’d have her soon enough, this brave
human girl who had the body of an angel and spirit of a demon. It
would be a pleasure to drive his hardened shaft into her sweet,
moistened channel again and again, a pleasure to have her as his
and his alone, and to have her sire him another pearl.

He couldn’t help himself and brought his
lips down to kiss her again, at the same time placing one large,
strong hand behind her head. He plunged his tongue into her sweet
mouth and explored her with a consuming passion.

Cecelia’s head spun with swirling sensation
she couldn’t describe. Delicious excitement coursed through her
being, and the spot between her thighs felt hot and willing. Aye,
she wanted him to ravish her. She wanted him to fill her emptiness
that was craving for him and him alone.

She groaned and felt her body respond with
yet another thrill when his hand touched the roundness of her left
breast.

Drake couldn’t help himself. He had to touch
her, had wanted to touch her and feel her since he had seen her
rushing out to face him that evening to prevent future
bloodshed.

He controlled Wildfire with his thighs as he
continued to kiss her, exploring the deepness and sweetness of her,
his tongue stroking and licking as his finger molded her engorged
breasts.

He released her abruptly, knowing he would
lose control any moment if he didn’t.

Cecelia stared up at the demon who had the
power to vanquish her thoughts to the wind and brought forward
these newfound feelings and sensations she didn’t know she
possessed. She cast her eyes and gazed at the musculature of his
chest instead. She shuddered involuntarily at the smoothness of his
skin his parted shirt revealed.

“How will I make your pearl?” she asked
absentmindedly. “If there is only one Pearl of Life?”

“There will be another,” he said
quietly.

She glanced up at him then, wondering how
there could be another Pearl of Life when only two already existed
in the realm of the nine kingdoms. There was the white one, which
belonged to Drake himself, the one she’d stolen and now lost. There
was the blue one, which belonged to Marcus Arthur, the exiled demon
prince who desired to claim the throne.

A gust of cold breeze blew across and
Cecelia shivered. Drake noticed and drew her closer to him, leaving
one arm over her. With her face snuggled against the base of his
neck, she suddenly wondered why he should act so chivalrous by
protecting her against the cold.

As though he understood her thoughts, Drake
said, “I will not allow you to be sick and unable to sire me
another pearl.”

Cecelia bit her lip and wondered yet again
how she was to
sire,
as he so called it, him another jewel.
But she didn’t argue with him and, instead, rested her head against
his shoulder, her face snuggled against his chest, and closed her
eyes as she was suddenly very exhausted and felt very dizzy. Before
long, the world around her slipped away into a fatigued
darkness.

When she came to, she was in a large,
luxurious bed. She had difficulty breathing and her head was
aching. She groaned and sat up, wondering where she was. She noted
the chamber was enormous, beautifully designed with dark blue and
gold. The bed was as soft as a goose feather beneath her and she
knew she must be in one of the guest rooms or—

She turned to her right and saw Drake by the
window, watching her.

His.
But how? Why? Shouldn’t she be
in a dungeon? Then her stomach knotted as he paced toward her.

He seized her wrist and pulled her to him.
She fought to free herself, but it was to no avail as he was so
much stronger than her with that momentous, powerful demon strength
of his and she was but a mere human girl.

“Stop fighting me, sweetheart. You will only
tire yourself,” he said coolly, his warm breath caressing her skin.
He carried her in his arms and paced to the door leading to the
adjoined room.

Cecelia found it was a bathroom, beautifully
designed and decorated. There was a big built-in bath made of white
marble. In it, fresh water flowed in from the mouths of cupids and
fairies.

He put her down and began to undress
her.

She twisted around so fast her head spun
from the speed of it. “What are you doing?” she asked, unable to
hide the fear within her voice.

“A bath,” he said simply and thus began to
undress her again.

She protested with all her might but
couldn’t budge his intent, and in the end, she was in naught but
her shift, standing there before him, hugging herself to hide her
nakedness.

“Human is no different from demon nor angel
for that matter,” he said, noting her blush.

“We are different.” She protested, her eyes
on him now. “You were supposed to be ugly,” she said, and wanted to
add not so pleasing to the eye that even the most handsome human
male could not compare.

He raised a brow at her.

“You were supposed to have horns on your
head and your skin is supposed to be gray like soot and blistered
everywhere, like it has been boiled. Your eyes are supposed to
red,” she added quietly. And not such a beautiful silvery gray that
every time he looked at her, she became breathless.

He regarded her with that cool, composing
stare, which she began to get used to, that stare that sent a
liquid pleasantness down her spine.

“Pray tell, when and where have you seen
such a creature? I would like to see one for myself.”

She noted the challenge in his stance and
his eyes was growing darker. She swallowed and backed away from
him.

He cocked his head to one side. “Where are
you going, Celia? Come here and let me take that shift off you. You
will not bathe with it on.”

Cecelia moved farther away and then rushed
to the other side of the bathing pool.

“Sire, please. I can bathe myself. Must you
be here to witness?” she queried in dread.

“Aye,” he replied. “Now come here and let me
take that off you.”

Cecelia shook her head, and as he paced to
her impatiently, she rushed away. So frightened she was that he
might see her naked, she slipped by the edge of the pool and nearly
toppled over. In a flash, he caught her by the small of her waist
before she had the chance to go flying into the pool.

He brought her in this strong embrace and
scolded her. “Can you not walk properly?” he muttered. “You will
break your neck if you keep this up.”

She bit her lip and flushed intensely. Then
she realized she was in his arms, too warm and comfortable for her
liking, and quickly struggled to get free.

He wouldn’t let her go, instead grabbing the
hem of her skirt and tossing her shift up and off her body.

Naked, Cecelia shrieked in dismay. The cool
night breeze caressed her skin and she shivered in response.
Realizing she couldn’t hide herself from him, she resigned her
fight and bowed her head in shame.

Drake noticed her suddenly easing in her
struggle and that she was now hugging herself as if she were
wounded in the stomach. When he grabbed her wrist to ease her, she
struggled again.

That was when he realized she was
embarrassed of her scar. He wrapped his warm hand over her
stiffened wrist. He was gentle but persistent as he moved it away
from her belly.

The scar, thick and ugly against the
softness of her flesh, indicated a cutting wound intended for
death. Tonight was the first time he’d seen the scar in reality.
The first time he’d known of its existence was when he’d felt it
during their loving in the woods. The second time was in the
dimness of the darkened room when he’d been in his apparition form,
making love to her. Now he felt anger rising within his being
knowing this mark was evidence of an intended murder.

Drake had to grit his teeth to control
himself. “How did you come by this?”

Cecelia did not dare look up at him. “’Twas
long ago when I was but a child.”

By instinct, Drake moved her around so he
could examine her body. When he lifted her long hair away from her
back, his scowl was dark and smoldering hot. Her slender back was
crisscrossed with scars from a whip.

“You are a lady, yet you have these marks of
torture?” he asked coldly. “Is this the way of the
human
?”
he said with disgust.

Cecelia couldn’t reply. What could she tell
him? That these scars where from the whipping she’d received from
Queen Eliza herself because she’d defended her brother by teaching
those older boys a lesson with her smallsword? Though this was
true, it was ridiculous to say the least.

“You have no answer to that?” he asked,
twisting her around. He nudged her face up with his finger and
thumb. He smiled then, though it did not reach his eyes. And
finally, he brushed her long hair back to look at her properly.

By heaven, but she was a beautiful creature.
She had an exquisite body. He noted her round breasts that perked
at just the right angle. He felt his blood sing in response, and it
took sheer willpower to prevent himself from tossing her on her
back and taking her there and then.

Cecelia’s blush intensified under his
scrutinizing gaze. When he finally led her by the hand toward the
pool, she sighed with relief.

He didn’t find her that repulsive. And why
was he staring at her so long? She knew she was ugly, as she had
been reminded too many times by Rosanna and Juliet, not to mention
Queen Eliza herself. She knew no man wanted her, especially with
all the scars on her back and stomach.

He made her step down into the pool, and she
was surprised the water wasn’t cold, but warm. She glanced up at
him, wondering why he made her bathe here and now and in his
presence too.

“Go in,” he said.

She obeyed his gentle command, for the
faster she got this done, the faster he’d leave her be.

At least she hoped so.

He was watching her every move; Cecelia
could sense it. She got to the middle and was pleased the water hid
her body from his eyes.

“All the way in,” he said.

Cecelia glanced up at him. “I am in and I am
having a bath,” she snapped back. “Now please leave. Or do you want
to watch me clean myself too?”

He ignored her. “Dip your head,” he
commanded. When she glared at him, he told her to do it, this time
with a threat. “Would you have me coming down there to aid
you?”

Cecelia gritted her teeth but did as she was
told. She dipped her head under the water a moment and then popped
it out again. Then she watched in horror as Drake took out his
dagger.

Is he going to kill me now? In the
pool?
She had thought she’d been ready for death but now
realized she wasn’t and backed away in fright.

“I told you I will not kill you, my dear,”
he said as he crouched near the pool. “Ease your retrieving.”

Cecelia stopped and held her head a notch
higher. Then she watched as Drake cut his palm and then squeezed
his blood into the pool. She blinked, wondering what he was
doing.