The COMPLETE Witching Pen Series, Boxed Set (72 page)

He moaned on the spot, completely taken over by the waves of sexual heat emanating from her, and then his voice came out thick. “Never fucked a demon before.”

His lips latched onto her throat.

Two pairs of hands tightened their hold on her as a fourth went straight for the button of her trousers. No messing around then – they were going straight for gold.

Let them,
hissed the demon.
I want them.
 

If there was any part of her sane side left, she didn’t know where it was hiding.

Number one won’t know what hit him once he sticks that cock in. I’ll milk him ‘til his soul is dry. We won’t be frozen in place once he’s dead – the others will run in horror, or maybe they’ll want to run, but these men think with their dicks, so maybe they’ll stay. Either way, I’ll have them too.

Fingers probed her in places they shouldn’t have been, and all of a sudden she was back in that dream she’d had months ago – the one in which Nathaniel had violated her – all snakes and blackness.

She thought she was moaning; grinding down on something or someone, she wasn’t sure – she was so far removed from herself.

She heard groans and sighs…

“…so fucking hard…”

Whispers in her ear…

“…Christ, she loves it…”

Laughter…

“…they all fucking love it…”

It's not something that's been done to you – it's something you are.

There was that dreaded sound of a belt buckle being undone, and a zip, a grunt… “Wait ‘til you feel what I’ve got for you, slut.”

Elena, let me have them … please … don’t deny me…

And really, who was she to deny herself? She was so bloody tired of it – exhausted, in fact. When all her friends had been exploring their sexuality, she had been denying herself – ten years denying herself.

Denying
us.

Us. Yes.
Us.
 

She spoke directly to the half of her she’d always forsaken.
Take them. They’re yours.
 

~*~

For the hundredth time, Katherine Green sat on the edge of her bed and stared at herself in the mirror trying to understand when her past had finally caught up with her.

Regret was not a word in her vocabulary, yet there it was, sitting boldly in the centre of her chest. Where had it come from? Whatever the answer, she needed to move on from it.

But she was stuck.

Stuck in an aged body, fear and guilt holding her in place.

She knew guilt was a wasted emotion. She’d fought against it for so long, for Elena’s sake as well as hers, but here it was.

But then, being entrapped in the Shanka world, where your own shadows licked at your soul, bringing all that unresolved darkness to the surface, was bound to change things.

Oh, how she had pursued Darius, Elena’s father, so stubbornly and recklessly. How she had let her anger and bitterness at her own father lead her into a well of self-doubt and recrimination, straight into Darius’ arms, where she had found both pleasure and suffering in equal amounts; had craved it, both to snub dear Dad, and to fill the hole in her heart that he had never taken the time to heal – hadn’t even tried. Of course, now she could see he simply hadn’t known how.

Darius had whispered words of torment, torn her open every time he’d touched her, even as he’d brought her to brink of pleasure over and over again. He had used her and abused her.

She had let him.

And she could regret none of it, because the most beautiful girl in the world had been given to her – a true gift, despite her recklessness.

Yet, without regret, there could also be no acceptance of her bad choices; no acknowledgement that she had made mistakes, and therefore, no forgiveness.

No. She had never forgiven herself – not even a little.

And now she was falling apart, outside as well as in, forgiveness demanding entry at the dark door she always knew she’d have to open one day.

“The air in here is black, Katherine. What on earth are you thinking?”

Startled, she jumped and turned to find Lucifer emerging from the shadows in the far corner of the bedroom.
Just like Darius used to
, she thought, ironically.

“I wondered when you’d show up again. Morgana not with you?”

“She sent me to find the son of Gwain.” He rolled his eyes, as if the task he’d been set was beneath him.

“Karl’s not here. I don’t know where he is. No one’s here but me, I’m afraid.”

“Are you?”

“I’m sorry?”

He stepped closer until he was no longer in shadow. “Are you afraid?”

Oh yes, there was the fear clambering up her throat. She fought it back down, refusing to acknowledge the monster she’d had a hand in creating. “Of you?”

“It’s not me you were thinking of just now.” His knowing eyes appraised her, sending shivers up her spine. This fallen angel was dangerous; she didn’t need any amount of her clairvoyance to see that.

“What I think is none of your business.”

“No. No it isn’t.” He paused. “Do you think she’s like him, Katherine?”

A scar opened. Her anger rose. “Maybe I didn’t make myself clear. When I said it was none of your business, what I meant was ‘get the fuck out’.”

“Do you know where Elena is at this precise moment?”

“She’s a grown woman; I don’t need to keep tabs on her.”

“She’s on a derelict building site, fending off four would-be rapists.”

All blood drained from her already pale face. “No.”

He waved away her shock. “Oh, don’t look so worried.”

She pushed herself off the bed. “Go and
help
her.”

“Believe me, Katherine, it’s not her I’m worried about. Those four, poor excuses for the male gender are going to have nightmares for a very long time. Which brings me back to my question: do you think she’s like him?”

Her hand rose to her chest, the pain in it exquisite.

“Or is she more like you?”

She couldn’t reply.

He studied her carefully. “Do you think she’ll fuck them, suck them ‘til they're shrivelled, then toss them to the curb with no remorse, or do you think that when she finally comes around, she’ll be so bereft at what she’s done there’ll be no coming back from it?”

A small sound of anguish left her, tears falling on dry skin.

“Are you beyond repair, Katherine? Or can you come back?” He came right up to her, blocking her against the side of the bed. “Is she like her father? Or is she like her mother?”

“You’re one cruel bastard,” she managed to get out.

He tsked with his tongue. “Everyone says that.” Then he took hold of her chin and locked his gaze with hers. “Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind –
you
know that. And sometimes, it takes a bastard to see it through.”

“You have to help her,” she pleaded. “Please.”

“She doesn’t need my help. But you do.”

She shook her head. “I can’t…”

“
Can’t
is not a word that suits you, my dear. You
won’t
. What a shining example you are to your daughter.”

She slapped him in the face, for all the good it did her.

He caught her wrist and smiled. “I’m an angel. I can give you back your youth, all you need to do is … open up – you know how it works.”

“I can’t—”

“Don’t say that.”

“I won’t…” But she didn’t really know the end of the sentence.

“This isn’t how you want to die – a shell of yourself. So let’s cut out the bullshit and get on with it.”

She closed her eyes against too many hellish years.

“Do you think you’re the first person to suffer at the hands of a lover? Willingly? Do you think you’re the first person to have asked for it? Look at me.”

She opened her eyes.

“Ask me.”

“No…”

“Ask me.”

“No!” She shoved him with her magic, and whether he let her or she took him by surprise, she couldn’t tell, but he landed against the wardrobe mirror she’d been staring at, luckily without breaking it. “You don’t know! You don’t! I was in there a month – a whole
month
and—”

“And you enjoyed every second of everything they took from you, and when their hands left your body you secretly begged them back, just like you did Darius; just like you’ve never been able to do with any man since.”

She stood there, shaking, as he strode back towards her. “How many men in your life have you said goodbye to? Three? Four? More? Because when they touch you with wholehearted loving caresses you feel nothing, yet the forceful stroke of a demon can split you between a million orgasms. How can anything compare, Katherine, to an incubus moving inside you? No other man, no other type of touch, will
ever
compare.”

“Are you done?” she croaked out.

He crossed his arms.

Exhaling a breath that had gotten stuck in her throat, she fell back down on the bed, exhausted. “Pleasure both repulses me and fulfils me.”

“I would wager that’s how your daughter feels, although for slightly different reasons, and I told you,” he added, as she frowned at Elena’s name, “not to worry about her.”

“That’s a little difficult for a mother to do.”

“Evidently. Fine,” he knelt down in front of her, “worry about her if you must. I’ll worry about you instead.” He placed his hand on her thigh and she flinched.

“Within five minutes, you can feel and look your forty-four years again. Or you can stay as you are, dying of old age, a victim to regret because you refuse to accept the needs of your body and mind.”

Her shoulders slumped forward. “If it’s like this for me, it’ll be ten times worse for Elena.”

“Maybe, but she’ll figure it out. Possibly after four dead bodies,” he added.

She glared at him.

“Does she know?”

“Know what?”

“That your refusal to have her rejuvenate you is because sexual pleasure disgusts you so much you’d rather die than have her be your saviour?”

She grimaced, the raw truthfulness of his words spearing her like a lance.

“Does she know she’s part of what made you that way?”

“She is
not
.”

“She’s a succubus – she
is
.

“She knows nothing! And you need to go help her,
now
.”

 “I need to help
you
. And I can. I can even make it painful, if the pleasure is too much. So, pick your poison: pain or pleasure? My personal preference is pleasure, by the way.”

“You call this help? Why on earth do you want to ‘help’ me?”

“It’s convenient,” he shrugged. “I know what you crave – what you’re addicted to – and I get a kick out of witnessing human degradation.”

Her laughter came out forced. “You have
got
to be kidding me.”

“Honest to a fault, aren’t I?”

“Only when it suits you, Lucifer.”

His lips curved upwards. “Indeed.”

“My struggle amuses you?”

“God, yes. When humans rip themselves apart so thoroughly, it exposes them in a way nothing else can. Vulnerability is beautiful, but more than that:
gnothi seauton.
”

“Know thyself?”

“It’s only through the degradation of the soul that you can know who you really are; when all else is stripped away, leaving you bare.” Somehow, his black eyes darkened, the venom in his words more deadly than a viper’s bite. “Let me degrade you, Katherine.”

His hand climbed higher, and that familiar sense of desire and repulsion – each fuelling the other – invaded her along with his stare.

“Let me strip you piece by piece, exactly how you like it. Let me watch you shine through your brutal revelation.”

One word. She just needed to say one word and yet it stuck in her throat, guilt clutching at it, unwilling to give up its prisoner.

Lucifer leaned forward, his movement smoother than silk, and licked along the length of her collar bone.

Dear God…

With his thumb, he pressed up between her legs, finding the seat of her underwear … finding much more than that…

A raspy moan left her, but the word that sought escape remained trapped.

His lips reached her ear, his whisper caressing the white wisps of her hair. “One of the greatest lies ever told is that there’s no power in vulnerability.
You have permission to take what you need.
”

The next moan that left her was encased in a sob; relief, self-loathing and gratitude rushing out of her, carrying the word she had spent all of her adult life despising… “
Pleasure.
”

“Good girl.”

He tilted her head back and she opened her mouth.

He sealed it with his own, and breathed.

Chapter Eleven

They were back in the waiting room.

Dr Jefferson had told them he would speed them through all tests and procedures, magically if necessary, so they’d gone around the corner for lunch and then hung around window-shopping – which had been sort of morose since she couldn’t fit into anything anymore and he’d be dead soon.

They’d made their way back to the surgery for five o’clock, the night already upon them as the sun had set just after four. Usually, the area would be busy at this time with the stirrings of Christmas in the air, but no one was celebrating this year. The streets were deserted, the frequent tremors from the earth keeping most people indoors.

Amy stole a glance at Paul.

He hadn’t said anything much since his breakdown earlier, after which they had divulged pretty much everything about the pregnancy to Dr Jefferson. They needed more insight and he could potentially provide it. They’d both agreed that confiding in him had been a risk worth taking. The only thing they hadn’t revealed was their real identity.

She reached out and took his hand in hers.

He jumped in his seat as if he’d been far away. “All right?” He asked, apprehensively.

“My feet are swollen and I feel like someone cut me open and stuck a bowling ball inside me, but other than that, I’m great.”

He stared at her, brows furrowed. “I actually don’t know if you’re being serious or not.”