Chapter 9 #2
Ashmedai hissed, affronted. “They were traitorous fools. They betrayed me to the human king. They must have been dealt with by my left hand… yes,” he admitted with a huff.
Morgan smirked, unrepentant.
Síofra pressed her lips together, pushing past the insanity of it all to the heart of it. “What do you really need to return to the Undercroft?”
Ashmedai sobered. “I require three relics. A lock of hair from Stheno, Medusa’s sister. The sword of Freyr, buried in the catacombs. And…” He glanced at her, as if unsure about the next part. “ We have to find the Mistress of Portals to open the doorway.”
Ashmedai’s golden eyes burned brighter, fixing on her with unnerving intensity.
Heat pulsed between them in an unrelenting wave as Síofra felt her body respond.
“And you,” he whispered. “You will be my queen, flame-haired enchantress. You were part of the summoning, though you do not yet understand. You are mine as much as the vessel is mine. Together we will rule.”
Morgan took a tentative step towards Síofra, his body jerking with the effort of fighting both wolf and the demon. “No! She’s not yours. She’s my mate.”
Ashmedai tilted his head, studying them both with that unblinking golden stare. “Mate? Then so be it. She will belong to us both. And you better hurry it along. She is not going to wait long.”
Morgan’s head snapped toward her, his own voice breaking through in a hoarse snarl.
“What did I tell you? I get you what you want and you leave us alone.I told you she is off limits. And I did request politely to keep your mouth shut! Otherwise you are going to understand what exactly a couch potato is over the next seven days while I wait for you to disappear.”
“I… am no shadow to skulk in the dark. I am Ashmedai, King of Demons. Your fear, my queen is mine as is your pleasure. Ah, sweet. I can taste it. Mine.”
Síofra’s throat felt parched. Her nails dug into the wall behind her as her name rolled in a heavy and ancient intonation.
Morgan’s jaw clenched. “Shut. Up.” He forced the words out, breath strangled. “Get back in. Now.”
For a moment the air shivered with resistance, smoke curling from the demon’s lips-then, abruptly he retreated, his claws shredding Morgan’s shirt on his way in.Suddenly there was silence. The frost cleared from his eyes. He staggered, bracing a hand against the wall.
“The arse…” He dragged a breath, then forced out, “This was my favourite shirt!.”
Morgan turned, fingers hooking under the hem of his shredded shirt. He pulled the fabric over his head to check his torso.
Síofra’s breath hitched. Black ink-like lines ran down his spine, glowing faintly, etched into flesh like brands.
She knew she should be afraid but all she could do was stare at the sheer breadth of him.
Broad shoulders tapering into the sculpted plane of his back.
The grooves of muscle flexed under skin, begging for touch.
Her pupils blew wide as an image blazed across her mind: her tongue tracing those runes, following them all the way down.
Morgan’s head turned slightly to meet her eyes over his shoulder. He caught the look, and hunger flickered in his gaze.
He turned back and closed the distance between them. His palm came up, cool against her forehead.
“You’re burning up, love,” he muttered.
She weakly swatted his hand. “Don’t.”
“You’re going into heat,” he said flatly.
Her mouth fell open. “Heat?” It came out in a dazed, almost breathless bimbo-stammer.
“Yes,” Morgan said, his voice lowering, roughening. “My wolf has recognised you,remember. So your body is getting… ready to receive me.”
Her eyes widened. “But-I’m human.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Not… completely human,” the demon crooned, his voice curling back into the room. “Mortal… but not.”
Morgan rolled his eyes skyward. “A little privacy, Ash.”
“My name is not Ash,you worm. Show some respect.” the demon grumbled, fading, leaving the faint scent of a campfire in the air.
Síofra exhaled a nervous laugh, shaking her head. “He… grows on you, doesn’t he?”
Morgan gave a crooked smile. “Yeah. Except he seems to be literally growing on me. Like a mushroom.”
“I heard that, mortal. I hear everything,” Ashmedai hissed faintly, then receded again.
Morgan stepped closer, his gaze intent on her.
Hands on her waist , he picked her up and sat her on a worktable before stepping between her thighs.
His low voice dropped down to a whisper.
“Soon you’ll beg for me for my cock. For my bite.
And when that happens…” His voice faltered, honesty cutting through the hunger.
“I won’t be able to refuse you. And I don’t want to hurt you. ”
He whispered that last part as he ran his nose along the base of her neck before licking the salt off her neck. His hardness pressed against the juncture of her thighs like a warning of intent. She couldn't stop herself from pressing closer. What was happening?
Síofra searched his face, gauging the expressions flitting across his handsome face while caught somewhere between fear and the pull in her blood.
Morgan held his hand out, palm open, waiting.
She hesitated-then slid her smaller hand into his.
Their fingers locked, and a rush of sparks shot down her arm, crackling along her nerves. Her knees would have buckled if she were standing.
Ashmedai hissed with raw pleasure, the sound echoing through them both.
A wave of heat hit Síofra harder, faster than before.
The room was stifling, thick with the cloying scent of her pheromones.
It clung to Morgan’s skin, filling his lungs until every breath was agony.
His wolf prowled inside him, howling for release, for her.
He knew the truth of it-the longer she breathed his scent, the deeper she would sink, and the more she would need him.
And if he didn’t answer that call, she’d be in agony.
Síofra clutched the edge of the desk, her knuckles white, her body trembling.
“I can’t-what’s happening to me?” Her voice was tight, breaking on the edges of panic.
Her body had plastered itself to Morgan as if it had a mind of its own and her hips moved in wanton waves.
She could feel him holding stiff against her body as if it took all his control not to take what she was offering.
Morgan’s jaw was locked with tension, his hands balled into fists at his sides. “You’re in heat. And if I don’t…we don’t…” His throat worked. He couldn’t finish it. “I can’t leave you in pain.”
Ashmedai growled, his smoke-wreathed form rippling at Morgan’s shoulder. “Then don’t. She is ready, vessel. Claim her first. Or I will.”
“Shut. Up.” Morgan growled through clenched teeth with the effort it took to keep his wolf caged. He was watching as Síofra shook her head as if to clear her thoughts. Her clothes were soaking with sweat and she hunched over with a hand on her abdomen.
“Hurts…Don't feel so good,” she mumbled.
Then they hear it- the thud of footsteps coming up the stairs.
Voices.
“Síofra?”
Cam.
Morgan’s head whipped toward the door. He could smell her now, just beyond the threshold. And Síofra’s coat was abandoned in his haste, lying outside her door like a breadcrumb trail.
Cam’s footsteps slowed, closer now. “Sio? Are you in there?”
Síofra’s eyes widened, sweat slicking her temples. She seemed to regain some of her control as she shook her head desperately, lips forming the word no.
Morgan’s body was vibrating with tension, every muscle drawn taut.
The need to hide her away was coursing through his veins.He crossed the room in two strides and braced a hand against the door, holding it shut, his own chest heaving.
He could smell Rand getting closer .That little shit needed to stop sniffing around his woman.
Ashmedai chuckled, low and cruel. “Two suitors. One queen. Why not let him in? See who she chooses.”
“Not. A. Word,” Morgan ground out.
Cam’s knock rattled the wood. “Sio? Are you in there? Are you okay?”
Inside, the air was laden with heat and hunger. Síofra’s pupils were blown wide, her breath ragged. Morgan could see her body straining, scenting, calling and every part of him screamed to answer. She was in the grip of her heat, rational thought having been lost on the wayside.
Ashmedai’s voice coiled through him, smooth and certain. “Give me control. I will get us somewhere safe.”
Morgan’s throat worked. “How?” he whispered back, terrified she would hear.
“Just leave it to me. Let me take control NOW.”
Morgan’s eyes flicked to the door. If it opened, if Cam saw Síofra like this, they’d take her from him.
Cam’s scream could drop him to the floor in an instant.
He couldn’t risk it. Not when her scent was thick in the air, when his wolf was clawing to claim her.
They would take Síofra away and never give her back, raged his wolf.Then he would go into rut and destroy everything in his path to get to her.
They would have to put him down like a rabid dog to stop him from hurting her.
Desperation won. “All right.”
Blackness surged up and over him, liquid smoke wrapping his body, enveloping him whole.
It was like being eaten alive. Tar-like thick shadows bled across his skin and hardened into scales dense as armor.
Morgan could feel his own body inside the demon’s, small and helpless, but aware of every movement. In the cockpit but not in control.
Wings burst from his back, vast and leathery, sparks running along their edges.
He towered at least seven and a half feet, horns glowing with embers.
In one arm he cradled Síofra like a child, her head lolling against his chest. His grip was possessive but gentle, like Síofra was his most precious treasure.
With a roar, he launched himself straight through the rotten wood of the window, splinters exploding into the night air. Wings snapped wide, catching the wind, and they merged into the black of the night.