Touch of the Demon

Touch of the
Demon

A Sensual
Seduction

By

Christina
Phillips

Published by
Christina Phillips at Smashwords

Copyright 2012
Christina Phillips

Cover Design
RNC & Barry Holt

This is a work
of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the
product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and
any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business
establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Touch of the
Demon
was previously published by The Wild Rose Press in
2009

Smashwords
Edition License Notes

This ebook is
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purchase your own copy.

TOUCH OF THE
DEMON

Prologue

Rafe sprawled
across the black leather chair, one foot propped against the edge
of the natural stone coffee table. He eyed the other occupant of
the opulent library in disbelief. “You’ve got to be joking.”

Mammon extended
his magnificent indigo wings. A clear insult, even after all this
time, but Rafe refused to rise to the challenge. After all, it had
been almost a century since Rafe had lost his wings in an
ill-advised wager with one of the Sirens. And while the subsequent
fuck had been mind-blowing, it hardly compared with losing his
bloody wings.

“The humans are
pissing me off.” Mammon undulated his wings, each feather
shimmering with its own iridescent glow. Rafe tightened his grip
around the Waterford crystal glass and resisted the urge to sling
the contents in Mammon’s perfectly sculpted face.

It would be a
criminal waste of two hundred year-old whiskey.

“So what else
is new?” He swallowed the priceless spirit and savored the way it
scorched his throat and heated his stomach. “Humans were created
with the sole intention of pissing us off.”

Mammon paced
across the illegally acquired semi-sentient rug, then paused in
front of the custom built fireplace. “The fucking gods are pissing
me off as well.”

Rafe shrugged
one shoulder. “Let the gods annihilate the humans. Who cares?” He
certainly didn’t. He despised the entire species with their petty
disputes and inability to see beyond their own personal greed.

He contemplated
the angelically enhanced and preserved Rembrandt displayed above
the stone fireplace, and silently conceded that, occasionally,
humans did have their uses.

Mammon finally
stopped pacing and folded his wings. Hands clasped behind his back,
he frowned down at Rafe. “Because, impossible as it should be, the
humans aren’t crumbling beneath the celestial gods.”

“And sending me
back in time is going to fix that?” Rafe stood, strolled to the bar
usually concealed behind the timber paneled wall and poured another
generous shot of whiskey.

Mammon’s eyes
narrowed. “Legion’s been approached to join forces with the gods.
We’ve been given an ultimatum. Join with the other immortals or be
considered in league with the humans.”

Rafe choked on
his whiskey. “They’ve got a nerve.” Generally, the gods liked to
think they were the only beings of any importance when it came to
the hierarchy of the immortals. Unless they wanted a special
assignment undertaken—a black ops mission. Then they were only too
happy to enlist the services of Legion.

“A
nerve
,” Mammon said, as if the word was acid in his throat,
“isn’t what I’d call their fucking hypocritical arrogance.”

“We can’t be
the only ones they’re trying to blackmail. Who else have they
approached?”

The tips of
Mammon’s wing feathers bristled as if offended. “I don’t give a
shit who else they’ve approached. No being gives
me
an
ultimatum and gets away with it.”

Finally
intrigued by the situation, Rafe returned his glass to the bar.
“Why are they so eager for our help now? This power struggle
between them and the humans has raged for centuries. What’s
changed?”

Mammon’s lip
curled. “Because it’s finally occurred to them, in all their
celestial omnipotence, that victory won’t necessarily be
theirs.”

Rafe digested
that fact and found it bitter. He wasn’t a great fan of any of the
gods inhabiting the cosmos, but none of them irritated him to the
degree the self-styled Great Earth Mother did. Not only did she
possess a suffocating geocentric arrogance, but also an
unfathomable affection for the human race.

His ego still
hadn’t recovered from when she’d laughed in his face when he’d
attempted to reason with her over his missing wings. The Sirens
were, after all, of her Earth. She did wield power over them.

And she had
chosen not to. “Which means the elemental power of Earth wins.”

“And we don’t
want that, do we, Rafe?” Mammon gave a mirthless grin, which a
millennia ago had possessed the power to terrify a human into an
incoherent wreck.

“You honestly
think humans stand a chance?”

He’d never
given the possibility serious consideration before, when it
appeared inevitable that sooner or later the gods would win. In
fact, despite his aversion to their species, he’d occasionally
admired the humans for the way they were finally standing up for
their rights against their masters.

Still, there
was a limit. If humans truly did manage to subdue the gods, who was
to say they wouldn’t then set their sights on enslaving the
angels?

“Stand a
chance?” Mammon raised one skeptical eyebrow. “Of course I don’t.
Not by themselves. But if you recall, Rafe, I’ve never believed the
humans were working by themselves.”

Rafe conceded
that point. Mammon’s interest in this particular battle had always
bordered on obsession.

He narrowed his
eyes, suddenly convinced Mammon had uncovered the answer to his
personal fixation. “How the hell
are
the humans managing to
outwit the gods?”

“That,” Mammon
said, “is the ultimate question.” He flung himself into Rafe’s
recently vacated chair. “Dark angels, unlike blinkered gods, are
willing to look at the impossible. And guess what, Rafe? We’ve
finally discovered the impossible.”

The air
crackled with tension. A century ago, Rafe had been involved in the
covert mission to uncover how humans were managing to hold their
own against the gods. Although he might not have cared that they
were
, he’d been as curious as any of his brethren as to the
how
.

But an
unscheduled screw with a Siren had finished his involvement. What
good was an angel without his wings? And so he’d retired from the
game, and for the last twenty years had almost forgotten Mammon’s
driving desire to solve that particular mystery.

He stared at
the other angel’s grim face, and a shuddering certainty surged
through him that his destiny balanced on whatever it was Mammon’s
spies had uncovered. “Which is?”

Mammon was
silent for a moment. “The DNA of every human leader in the
rebellion is tainted. In other words, this rebellion started with
the infiltration of non-human blood into the species a millennium
ago.”

“Non-human?”
Rafe frowned. “That’s not very specific. Humans have never been
fussy about what they fuck, so long as it possessed a pretty face.
Which god got careless?”

Mammon waved an
impatient hand. “That’s not important. What is important is we’ve
pinpointed the exact moment of conception. The absolute second when
the tainted blood enters the human DNA strand.”

“And you need
an assassin.” Rafe folded his arms. “Aren’t you forgetting
something, Mammon? I’ve been out of commission for the last ten
decades.”

“You’re also
the best operative Legion has.”

Rafe offered
Mammon an icy smile. “I don’t much like the sound of this mission.
Think I’ll pass.”

Mammon returned
Rafe’s icy smile with interest. “It comes with fringe
benefits.”

Rafe stilled.
“Go on.”

“Undertake this
mission, and I’ll ensure the reinstatement of your wings.”

The ice turned
to fire. “You have that power?” One hundred years ago, Rafe would
have pleasured the Great Earth Mother herself if it meant the
return of his wings, but Mammon had, with apparent regret, assured
him he was powerless to do anything to help.

“Let’s say the
Siren in question became compromised. She had no choice but to
relinquish her prize to me.” Mammon allowed a smug smile to touch
his lips. “I thought you might need some persuasion. So, is it a
deal?”

Rafe glowered.
“Sure, I’ll make a deal with the devil, Mammon. On one condition.
You give me my wings before I go into the breach.”

Mammon
shrugged. “Done.” He paused for a moment and gave Rafe a
considering look. “There’s just one other thing you should know
about your mark. It’s only half human itself.”

Chapter
One

Earth—A
Millennium Earlier

Rafe leaned
against the damp stone wall, the shadows shrouding his presence
from the weak-minded mortals who scuttled through the cobblestone
alley. The stench from the waste rotting in the gutters offended
him. The dank night irritated him. Most of all, being so close to
humans disgusted him.

Only the
knowledge that he was no longer severed from an essential aspect of
his being tempered his mood. He flexed his shoulders and felt the
corresponding ripple of his feathers, despite the fact that here,
on Earth, his wings remained hidden on the physical plane.

He glared
through the darkness, his senses searching for his quarry. As soon
as he discovered her whereabouts, he intended to fulfill his
obligation and get the hell away from this polluted time and
planet.

It had been too
long since he’d enjoyed the freedom of the cosmos, and now that he
was whole once again he had no desire to spend a second longer than
necessary concealing his true nature.

And then,
without warning, her scent invaded his brain, electrifying every
nerve he possessed. The blood thundered along his veins, his body
hardened, and he clenched his fists against the raw power thrumming
in the heavy air.

Where the fuck
had she come from?

He still
couldn’t see her. Not even with his preternatural sight. But she
was here in this alley. And she was watching him.

* * *

Shielded from
view by the benevolence of the Great Mother, Celeste stared at the
dark shadow hulking at the end of the alley. She could feel the
evil emanating from him, choking the atmosphere with death and
decay and reaching out for her soul in relentless waves of
unadulterated hatred.

She shivered
despite the heavy woolen cloak she wore, and her fingers tightened
around the slender stiletto that had been forged from the very
heart of the Mother. There would be only one chance to send this
demon back to the hell he inhabited. One chance to ensure he could
never again return to this realm. And she didn’t intend to
fail.

She wrapped the
darkness around her as she stepped over the filth-strewn cobbles.
He would never guess she was so near, until it was too late to do
anything about it.

Anticipation
hummed through her blood. She’d dreaded this moment for years,
always knowing it would come, even as she had prayed it never
would. But now he had arrived. And blood lust heated her heart at
the knowledge that soon he would no longer be a threat.

Closer. So
close she could almost taste his blood, touch his rage. Another
step and she would be upon him. Stealthily she began to raise her
arm beneath her cloak, every atom of her attention focused on
hitting her mark.

And then he
swung around, and she froze as her eyes clashed with his.

Shock
reverberated throughout Rafe’s body as he stared at the tall woman
standing not an arm’s length from him. Her long silver hair tumbled
over her shoulders, seeming to radiate its own ethereal
illumination and throwing her features into stark relief.

She had the
face of an exalted angel.

“You can see
me.” The words were banal. Had he really uttered them? But there
was no need for the question or an answer because of course she
could see him. She was staring at him as if he were a gargoyle from
the pit. Did she know how close to the truth she was?

“I see you.”
Her voice was low, husky, and a sharp arrow of lust pierced his
groin. Hot visions of taking her here, up against this rough stone
wall, pounded through his mind, clouding his vision.

Again he fisted
his hands, willing himself to concentrate. To ignore her
intoxicating scent, the rise and fall of her breasts beneath her
cloak, and her strange, starlit hair.