15. Sweet as sin.
15
Sweet as sin.
“C ase study #213: The Succubus of Salem .
Salem, Massachusetts, has been long known for its dark history and the witch trials of the late seventeenth century. It is that very history that attracted demon worshipers a few centuries later. A renowned coven of witches called The Hallowed Sisters dabbled in demonic rituals in 2038. By 2039, they succeeded in summoning a rare demon, a class-two succubus. Incubi and succubi were creatures of legends until then, and the State Exorcists sent to Salem were ill-prepared to face the threat. The succubus, possessing a young witch, turned every soldier sent her way into her personal sex slaves. By the time the military thought to gas the entire mansion, they had been having a large-scale week long orgy. Dehydration and exhaustion killed several victims, including a few State Exorcists.
Incubi and succubi are some of the most dangerous demons you might encounter on a job. Never approach them without proper planning. An exorcism might prove impossible.”
-Extract from the State Exorcist’s Manual , edition of 2047.
LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA 2052
By the time we make it back from Malibu, the sky is turning the pale gray of dawn. Another night spent hunting for the gate of Hell but never getting close.
“You know where the vault is,” Azeroth says as we climb into the elevator leading up to my apartment.
He’s still carrying the expensive bottle of whiskey like a stolen treasure. Half of it is gone already; it helped wash away the aftertaste of human misery.
I shake my head slowly, leaning on the wall. “No. It’s a well-guarded secret. But I know someone who might.”
There are a handful of vaults all over the country where the Eames vessels containing demons are stocked and protected. Their number is unsure, but rumors speak of three locations. I left the State Exorcists before I could learn more. I didn’t care, as long as they were doing their job—keeping demons from humans. There’s one close to Los Angeles, another on the East Coast, and the last one somewhere inland.
“An exorcist?” Azeroth says. “What makes you think they’ll give us their secret?”
I smile. “Because he owes me a favor. A big one.”
The elevator door opens, and we walk to my apartment. There’s the familiar thrum as the hybrid crosses the threshold.
“And where can we find this exorcist?”
I drop my jacket on the back of a chair. “That should be the easy part. I have a contact on the force.”
He disappears into the kitchen and comes back with two glasses. He fills them with a generous amount of whiskey. An alarm rings in my head, telling me that drinking more is a bad idea, especially with a demon. But I already have a pleasant buzz.
“You were one of them,” he says. It’s not a question.
I sit on the couch and accept the glass of liquor. “For a time. But we didn’t agree with methods, so I left.”
“They create devils to fight devils,” he says with a smile.
I nod and take a sip. “Tomorrow, we’ll get in touch with my contact, and we’ll find Robb.”
Azeroth sits in front of me. Luckily, the table stands between us. He dropped the illusion as soon as we entered the apartment, and his wings fit perfectly over the back of the chair. This skin suits him better than the other one. He’s too much to pretend to be human. My eyes linger on the tattoos snaking around his muscular arms.
“I felt something just now when you said his name,” he says. “It tasted bitter. This Robb… you two have a history.”
His ability to sense emotions is annoying.
I sigh. “He was my mentor and my friend.”
“That’s it. You admired him. What I can taste is bitter disillusion and disappointment.”
“Shut up.”
He laughs and raises his glass in a mocked toast. “What’s the story, ashy one?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Yes. Terribly. I would love to know why all I ever feel emanating from you are… uncomfortable emotions. So much guilt, want, and repressed desires.”
I finish my glass and glare at him. “Repressed desires? Don’t take your sins for common practice, incubus.”
“You’re choking with it, exorcist.” His golden eyes roam over my face, then my throat and down to the rest of my body. “I rarely encountered such frustration and longing for the pleasures of life. Except maybe in the priests of old. They thought they needed to be pure of sin to fight us.” He laughs. “It worked, to an extent. But it only made their fall steeper, and their surrender sweeter.”
I make a face. “I’m not a priest. I don’t believe in God.”
Who would, after what I’ve seen? The devil himself found the idea of a god hilarious and naive.
“Good,” Azeroth says, resting his head on the back of the chair. “I don’t like to have competition.”
I laugh—unwillingly.
His legs are wide open on the chair, and his left hand is casually drawing circles on his inner thigh. I remember the feel of his fingers around my neck. Heat rises from my core, tracing a searing path all over my body. My eyes climb higher, following the curve of his throat.
He’s watching me with a knowing look.
I grind my teeth. “Stop it. I told you not to use your power under my roof.”
I wish I had my guns.
“I’m barely doing anything, ashy one,” he says.
“Liar. You’re twisting my emotions.”
He sits up. “Do you think that’s what I’m doing? No, no, exorcist. I can’t twist emotions. My power only nurtures what’s already here. It gives life to your deepest desires and needs. The effect it has on you depends entirely on your cravings. If what gets you going are petite women, then you’ll turn all your attention to the ones in the room. If your kink is food—that happens more often than you expect—” he says after seeing my incredulity, “then it’ll send you into an eating frenzy. It just turns out that I’m really your type, ashy one.” His teeth look sharp as he smiles.
“You’re everyone’s type,” I say to hide my shame.
I feel stripped to the bones. I’ve always liked men, and he’s too much of a man for me to handle, as demonic as he is.
He chuckles. “True enough.”
I get to my feet abruptly, surprised to find the world spinning out of its axis, and say, “I’m going to bed.”
“Running away with your tail between your legs?”
Anger rises alongside lust. I lurch forward and grab him by the collar. My glass falls from the table to the carpet. Luckily, it was empty.
“Don’t you ever shut up?”
His smile widens. “I can. When my mouth is otherwise occupied.”
My eyes drop to his lips. There is a tightness in my chest, and I can’t get enough oxygen into my lungs. His hand closes around my wrist, stopping me from backing away. But he does nothing but watch me. It’s driving me crazy. For a demon of lust, he’s infuriatingly aloof.
“You’re all talk, demon,” I say.
I must be out of my goddamned mind to dare a devil.
Azeroth’s smile drops. He slowly stands up, and I have to crane my neck to look him in the eyes. The energy in the room shifts; it becomes more dangerous.
He gets closer, forcing me to back away until my legs hit the couch and I’m falling. His wings flare and their shadow falls over me.
“You’re the one who’s all talk, exorcist. You spend your nights playing hard to get, but I can taste what you feel. There’s no limit to your cravings, and it feels like gazing upon a dark ocean, endless and depthless.”
“You don’t know me.” I sneer.
“That might be true, and yet right now, you can’t hide from me. Undo your pants, ashy one,” he says, his voice dangerously low.
“I’m not—”
“I can taste your need,” he cuts me off.
I lift my chin in challenge. My annoyance and lust are merging into red-hot anger. I don’t want to be the only one fighting for control.
“Fuck off—”
“I hunger for you. You’ve been invading my senses for the past few days.” His eyes are glowing. “Don’t refuse a demon his meal, ashy one.”
I gasp. I know hunger well. In fact, it’s all I’ve ever known. Food never seems to be enough to satiate my mutating body. And sex… the casual sex I have on rare occasions with strangers barely scratches the itch that dwells in my flesh. He’s right, all I do is crave . Maybe I’m more demon than I thought.
Azeroth’s hand encircles my throat, burying my head and shoulders deeper into the cushions. “Do it,” he says.
No…No… No… I can’t just…
I open my belt and buttons with shaky hands.
Once I’m done, he lowers his face close to mine and whispers, “Touch yourself.”
I glare at him, shaking my head. I’m not drunk enough to forget myself completely and—
A wave of his dark power washes over me, drowning my trail of thought. Suddenly, all I see are the muscles of his chest and the veins on his forearms. I want him to bury his fangs in my neck and fuck me on the couch like he did that woman at the brothel where I found him.
I groan. I’m not so good at resisting him, after all.
“You need someone to show you how to let go, ashy one,” he says in my ear. His hot breath caresses my skin and I shiver. “There’s a balance between resistance and surrender. One only exists with the other. There’s no higher power to judge you. The only thing that matters is your truth. Show me what makes you tick. Let me taste it all.”
There’s a fire burning under my skin, as if Hell itself has crawled in. Maybe it really did, a long time ago, alongside my demon.
I slide a hand over the painful bulge in my boxer briefs and free my erection. Azeroth’s golden eyes drop and the tip of his horn touches my cheek. I can’t help but reach for it. It’s surprisingly soft, as if carved from ebony wood. So different from my own, as pale as bone.
He growls deeply. “Careful, human. If you touch me, I might not be content to only watch and feed.”
I’m lost in a lustful haze, but I take my hand away almost reluctantly. Do I want him to touch me?
Azeroth steps away and sits on the coffee table in front of me. If he abandons me to my lust now, I’ll shoot him in the face as soon as I get a hold of a gun.
“Do it,” he commands. “Stroke yourself and let me feed.”
The way he says feed sounds utterly dirty, and I want him to feast on me.
“What if… I don’t want you to only watch?” I rasp before I can keep the words in check.
I shouldn’t be wanting any of this.
But fuck… I need him to touch me right now, or I might combust.
Azeroth’s vertical pupils expand, as if they have locked on a prey. My hand twitches on the couch, eager to reach for him and pull him back over me. The pointy end of his tongue appears as he licks his lips.
“The energy emanating from you is heady, exorcist,” he says, eyes locked on my cock. “You taste sweeter than sin. But I won’t touch you today. You’re drunk, and I don’t want to give you an excuse to complain when this is all over.” He looks up, laughing at my expression. “Now, give yourself pleasure and let me feed, ashy one. I’m ravenous.”
I curse him and bite my bottom lip painfully. His dark energy settles over me like a blanket, turning all my thoughts into incoherent images of him fucking me in all kinds of positions. His wings spread behind his back, hiding the light, and in their shadow, I finally allow myself to reach for my cock. Not even the outline of shame and regret can reach me now.
Azeroth positions his hands on his lap, and, faithful to his words, stays sitting on the coffee table and doesn’t touch me. It’s maddening. But he often breathes deeply while closing his eyes, feeding off me. I have enough brainpower to wonder what I taste like, but not enough to actually ask him. All I can do is stroke myself to chase the high, even though the friction is never quite enough to satisfy me.
His tail—that he usually keeps in check and hidden—snakes around my thigh as if it has a mind of its own and doesn’t care about its master’s vow not to touch me. I wonder what it would feel like around my cock.
I’m getting close to orgasm really fast. Azeroth, too, appears a little drunk, but not from the whiskey. His golden eyes are half-lidded as he feeds on my sexual energy.
“That’s it, ashy one, keep going. You’re fucking delectable.”
His words are like fuel added to my fire, the flames burning hot and licking at my insides. I can’t help but spread my legs wider. He growls deep, leaning closer.
His hand reaches for his groin, and he adjusts his erection under his clothes. My eyes snag on the proof of his interest, and that’s all it takes to send me over the edge.
I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t…
I moan shamelessly as I come all over my hands and clothes. My orgasm is so powerful that my vision darkens and I lose my grasp on reality.
When I finally come back to myself, Azeroth’s dark power is receding, leaving me shivering and desperate for more.
He purrs like a beast. “Thank you for the meal, ashy one.”
Then he lowers his face to me and licks a drop of cum from my hands with his pointy tongue. My cock twitches in response. He backs away and I lose the shelter of his wings. The light pours back and I’m blinded by reality once more. I’m left sticky and raw.
Azeroth offers me a hand to get up, but I ignore it and escape to the bathroom— tail between my legs.
I take a hot shower to drown my shame. But, of course, it’s as tough as a demon.
I shouldn’t have given in. He’s a goddamned hybrid from another world, not a casual hookup from a bar.
But so are you , says my inner voice.
When I get out half an hour later, Azeroth has disappeared. The door leading to the roof is open; he must be watching the sunrise again.
I grab my disregarded glass on the carpet and fill it with the last dregs of whiskey. I down it, hoping it’ll help me forget what happened.
When I rise in the evening, a headache is pounding relentlessly on my cranium, but the memories of last night have survived. I emerge from my den to find that Leo has brought up fresh coffee and food from Tina’s diner. He even got some for Azeroth. There are new clothes folded on the table. I wonder briefly if he doused them in holy water.
When the demon rises from his slumber, all he does is offer me a wicked smile. I don’t know what I would have done if he had brought up the previous night in front of Leo. Send him back to his corpse in Hell, undoubtedly.
I escape the awkward situation by going to the rooftop with my coffee and phone. I dial Willa’s number.
“Jon?” she answers seconds later. “It’s rare for you to be the one to call.”
“I have a favor to ask,” I say.
She hums. “The White Exorcist, asking for my help? How rare. If there’s a demon you can’t manage, Jon, then we’re all fucked,” she jokes.
“No. I have my hands full, but I can manage,” I say, thinking of Azeroth. It’s a lie; he’s playing me like a fiddle. “I want to ask you where I can find an exorcist. Robb Warden.”
Willa whistles on the line. “The legend himself! You know I’m not in touch with him. The guy’s one of the last surviving veterans.”
Robb mustn’t be a day older than thirty-five. But he’s been in the field for ten years. That’s a Hell of a run for an exorcist. Especially one who dove so deep into the Angels’ Tears.
“We’re not exactly acquainted…” Willa continues.
“But I am. We’re…” I hesitate, “old friends.” The words pain me. “So, can you please reach him for me?”
“I would love to, Jon. But it’s going to be a tad difficult.”
“Why?” I ask, not liking the sound of that. For a heartbeat, I fear he might already be dead.
“Because no one has reached him for months. A gang of demonic traders has captured him. We weren’t able to find where they’re keeping him. He’s M.I.A. Sorry, Jon.”
I sit back on the chair, and a cloud of dust rises in the air.
Well, fuck.