The Demon Duke and I (3 page)

She sighed again, and the sound rippled through Silviu like an intimate embrace. His throat dried, his muscles tensed, and his cock hardened to life. Silviu ached to touch her but knew he had to take his time. Returning his sword back to its secret place, he continued staring at her, his hunger knowing no bounds.

Her hair was dark and luxurious, but it was almost comically arranged in a tightly twisted bun at the very top of her head, almost like a toupee. She straightened, and the shape of her gloriously full breasts made itself evident even against her unflatteringly loose clothing - a baseball jersey and faded jeans.

This girl was his heartkeeper. This girl could be his to fuck for eternity.
Desire rampaged through his body as the words played in Silviu’s mind. He wanted to start now, wanted to start fucking her right this very moment, wanted to take her hard on the ground, have her bend halfway from the waist so he could penetrate her pussy with his cock from behind, lift her up and have her long legs wrapped around him---

“DAMMIT, Paula, cooperate,
please
!”

Silviu shook his head, the words snapping him out of his lust-drugged reverie.

Looking back at the woman who could be his destined bride, he saw that her turquoise eyes were now bright with irritation. She glared at her camera, her cheeks flushed, its rosy color made more delectable by the porcelain perfection of her skin.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck---”

His future duchess, who from here on he would think of as Little Miss Potty Mouth.

A laugh escaped Silviu, the very softest sound, but the wraiths heard it and they cackled with him. Leaves on the ground crackled, roots crawled deeper into the soil, and the trees bent even lower – all in the space of a second.

This time, the girl noticed.

She screamed. “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!”

Little Miss Potty Mouth, indeed.

Here is my first snapshot of the Woods of the Wraiths.

And yes, those are honest-to-goodness-I’m-not-shitting-you SOLDIERS you see guarding the gates.

Apparently, this place is like, umm, Umbrella City. But instead of zombies you have vengeful…well…wraiths. And highwaymen. I kid you not. Highwaymen!

It’s “forbidden” territory after sunset, but Iet’s see if I can “steal” a shot at night.

#sneakybastardgirl #WoW #itsnotworldofwarcraft #punkD

          Something was very wrong.

          The knowledge came out of nowhere, the realization making George stop cursing. Her fingers tightened around her Polaroid like it was a self-defense weapon. If it came down to it – she probably
would
use the Polaroid as some kind of weapon, like a mace. After all, the all-steel custom housing of her camera should be able to do some damage.

         
Next time,
George thought,
I’m going to request for pointed bits for additional protection.

         
She really should have listened to her instincts. But then – that was always what her father told George to do, what her father always did – and look where that got him: missing and presumed dead in the ancient wilds of Romania.

          The faintest sound of laughter trickled towards George.

          Her head shot up, and it – everything – happened all of a sudden and all at the fucking same time. Leaves scraping against the ground without a wind to make them dance, roots fucking crawling like wooden snakes, and goddammit – was she going crazy or did those trees actually bend towards her as if needing to hear her talk?

          George screamed.

          Of course she screamed.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!”

          And then she ran – well of fucking course she fucking ran!

          Soon, all George could hear was the sound of her own heavy breathing and even heavier footsteps. She was getting tired and slowing down. She had the best damn sense of direction, needing no fucking compass to know which direction was true north – but for some reason she was lost.

          She was so fucking lost.

          Forcing herself to stop, body tensing and shaking alternately, George strained her ears for any kind of sound that would indicate she was being stalked. But there was silence – the very deepest kind, and it worried her even more.

         
Okay, think. What can I do to find my way back?

         
Look for true north.

         
Yeah, I can do that.

         
But ten seconds later, George was halfway to becoming hysterical. There were no fucking shadows, no way to see the stars – it was as if every goddamn tree in the Woods of the Wraiths was conspiring against her, needing to keep George in the dark.

          Goosebumps formed on her arms.

          She was a paranormal photographer. In her almost 25 years of life, she had never really seen a ghost
but
it didn’t mean they did not exist. It didn’t mean humans were the only ones in the world.

         
Okay, let’s think again. If all this had a supernatural source, how do I get myself out?

         
Apologize to elementals she might have offended.

          Out loud, she said, “I’m sorry if I offended any one of you – I swear to God it was unintentional.”

          Always remaining just a few feet away from his future duchess, needing to make sure she was all right, Silviu blinked at the first words that came out of her mouth when she stopped – presumably to rest or to gather her thoughts.

          Her voice only shook at the end of her unexpected apology, impressing Silviu with her composure and courage. This boded well for them. Brimstone did not need a coward for a duchess, and he did not definitely need one as a heartkeeper.

          But --- why was she apologizing?

         
Nothing was happening
, George thought numbly. Panic was starting to choke her, but she ruthlessly pushed it aside.

         
Let’s try it again, George.

          Look for true north.

          But there were still no shadows, not even one damn star to help her find it.

         
Could this be a dream – a nightmare she needed to wake up from?

George slapped her face several times.

          Silviu’s jaw dropped. Now she was fucking hurting herself? Maybe…maybe she was more nervous than he thought. But before he could take a step towards her, the girl whispered furiously to herself, “Wake up, wake up, dammit!”

          Slap, slap, SLAP.

          Silviu winced – for her.

          “Ouch.”

          He tried not to roll his eyes. Of course that would hurt. She had
slapped
herself – hard.

          “Please be a fucking dream, please,” the girl muttered.

          SLAP.

          He winced again.

          “Ah, shit, this isn’t a dream.” George rubbed her now-stinging cheek. God, that hurt! The thought made her look up with a scowl.
Damn---darn it, God, couldn’t You just have sent me a sign that this was not a dream?

          She shook her head. Never mind. She checked her watch and was stunned to realize that only a little over an hour had passed since she left The House. It felt like she had been lost forever.

         
Get a grip, George. Let’s solve this.

         
She had tried to look for true north – and it was impossible. She had tried apologizing to elementals that might be lurking around – and nothing happened. What else could it be? She racked her brains for another solution, whether it was practical or paranormal. It didn’t fucking matter.

          All she wanted – needed – was a way out.

          George went through all the stories she had amassed over the years, the legends, the myths, and the hearsays, all of them passed on to her as the most terrifying bedtime stories by her mother
Basiange.

Unlike most mothers, Basiange didn’t do fairy tales and happily-ever-after endings. Instead, she had encouraged George to consider every shadowy corner as a hiding place for something outside the realm of the ordinary. When she was tucking George in for the night, she would often tell stories that were terrifyingly exciting, and one of them had been about…

Oh! That could work
, George thought feverishly as she recalled one particular Philippine legend Basiange had shared with her.

Once upon a time, elementals dwelled deep in the forests, and they were not the nice kind. Instead of wings like butterflies and faces like angels, they had veined fleshy wings like bats and claws and razor sharp teeth like monsters.

They trapped humans for food by causing them to hallucinate, and the only way to escape their nightmarish worlds was to wear one’s shirt inside-out, a symbolic ritual to “right” one’s world and return to reality.

          George took several deep breaths. It was worth a shot, she told herself. No matter how silly it sounded. Anything was worth a damn shot because she had no plans of dying tonight.

Clutching the end of her baseball jersey, George began to take it off.

          WHAT THE FUCK?

          Silviu could not believe the sight unfolding before him. Was she fucking serious? Was she fucking insane? Was she really going to fucking show the world what belonged to his eyes
alone
?

          It didn’t matter that only the wraiths could see her, or that all of the wraiths were once nymphs far more beautiful than any human girl could be.

          She was his future duchess, his destined bride, his heartkeeper.

          She was HIS.

         
Look away.
He issued the command silently to the wraiths, infusing the words with the strength and power that came with his bloodline as the Duke of Brimstone.

          The wraiths moaned at the command, the trees shuddering at the sound and shedding leaves just as the girl whipped her top off.

          Silviu stiffened.

“
NO
!” A scream ripped itself out of her throat as George suddenly found herself captured within a stranger’s embrace, strong arms wrapping around her body as he flew – oh my God, had she just imagined that? Was she imagining this? Maybe taking off her jersey wasn’t enough? Maybe the darker forces were too strong and she had to get butt naked in order to defeat them?

          Her back hit something solid the same time the man’s body completely covered hers, his hardness – every damn inch of him was hard, and that included his penis, his oh-my-God-that-thing-is-going-to-tear-me-apart penis!

          George went wild. She screamed her head off, kicking, punching, and struggling any way she could. She was not going to be raped. She was not!

          “Relax,” the stranger growled against her throat just before he twisted both her arms over her head and then -

          He stepped back.

          George tried to pull her hands away but it was as if someone – something – had pinned her to the tree. She strained to look up, but all she could see was darkness and the still-bent trees over her. She tried to pull harder, twisting in every way just to get loose but there was no…escape.

          “What’s your name?”

          The voice was hypnotically beautiful but commanding and powerful at the same time – the voice of authority, the kind that was used to being obeyed instantly.

          “Fuck you.”

          Her fierceness pleased him, making it harder for Silviu to keep his voice unsmiling but mild as he asked, “Why did you take your top off, milady?”

          The accent and that last word he murmured tipped her off.
A local, no---a titled local,
George realized. She was almost out of her mind with fear, but she forced herself to file away the possibly useful information. Thoughts of Marquis de Sade entered her mind, and those she pushed away completely. Those thoughts, she totally had no use for.

          “Milady?”

          “I…” Oh God – did she tell the truth? What if he thought her insane…and that was some kind of turn on for him? “I…was…hot?”

          “You are,” Silviu affirmed, unable to hold back the thread of possessiveness that lined his voice as he studied the girl before him. With her arms over her head and the tree against her back, she was forced to stand straight, thus pushing out her cotton-covered breasts.