Mark of the Demon (Kara Gillian 1)

I stared, slack-jawed, my words dying away. I had seen many startling things as a summoner, but not this. Never this. I hurriedly checked for signs that it was some sort of illusion or glamour, but there were none. There were twelve levels of demon that could be summoned. This was most certainly not any one of them.

He was beautiful. Angelic. White-blond hair hung in a satin-smooth fall down the length of his back. His skin glowed in the firelight, so perfect as to be ethereal. He was well muscled and tall, and the insanely incongruous thought came to me that he was probably about the same height as Captain Turnham. But this … being … wore nothing as mundane as a dress shirt and khakis. A shimmering white silk shirt hung on broad shoulders that tapered down to a narrow waist. Leather breeches the color of fresh cream fit snugly to well-muscled legs. He had the body of an Adonis.

And he looked human.

Only his crystal-blue eyes told me that this was a creature of deadly and terrifying power. Eyes that were deep and ancient, full of a dominance and strength that belied the angelic beauty of his face.

This … is no ordinary demon. Oh, shit, Kara. What the fuck have you done?

His lips curled into a smile as those eyes traveled over me, weighing and measuring me.

I swallowed hard and drew breath to restart the chant for the dismissal. I still held the bindings firm. I still had a chance.

I could feel pressure against the bindings as I choked the words out, could feel him probing, testing, but they still held. My shredded confidence steadied. I could hold this creature. He finished his lengthy appraisal of me, then looked around the room, slowly turning, still not moving from the center of the chalked diagram. Finally he returned his gaze to me.

“Ah.” He smiled. “This will prove interesting.”

I felt the bindings tremble, and then, before I could react, they snapped like threads.

I gasped in horror as the bindings unraveled and dissipated. How could he have broken them so easily? I abandoned the dismissal chant as I struggled to gather up the shreds of power. The wardings were my only hope. I threw all the potency I could seize into the diagram, seeing the runes flare into life.

His laughter mocked me as he brushed the wardings aside like old cobwebs, shattering the runes. Then he stepped out of the diagram and locked his eyes on mine as raw potency exuded from him in a smothering wave. “I am so glad you have brought me here.” His voice was calm and melodious, but in his eyes I could see a black fury.

My breath froze in my chest as I began to back away. Terror warred with barely controlled panic despite all of my training and preparation. I knew how much the higher-level demons despised being summoned, yet somehow I had fucked up and pulled this creature through—a creature that was undeniably far beyond the level of a reyza. I was about to die. And badly.

The flight reflex took over and I turned and bolted for the stairs.

And came up against a blank wall.

I stared in horror at the place where the stairs were supposed to be, then whirled back to face him. “Let me go!” My voice shook, but I didn’t care. I was far beyond any need to appear strong.

He laughed—a beautiful, musical sound that only increased my terror. “I do not hold you.” He took another step forward, his angelic features and rage-filled eyes catching the firelight. “I do not hold you at all.”

My stomach clenched. All of the bindings, the wardings, the protections were gone—useless. Even my police training would do me no good against this creature. I could feel the wood paneling of the illusory wall at my back, and I fought to control the urge that screamed at me to turn and claw a way out.

“Then where are the stairs?” I demanded, hating the note of hysteria in my voice.

He shrugged eloquently as he stepped closer. “I am responsible for careless architecture? I think not.”

He stepped to within a pace of me as I tried to press back into the wall. He reached out to touch my face, and I jerked away from his hand. A snarl curved his mouth, and then, before I could move, he seized me, holding my face in both hands, pinning me firmly though not hurting me. Yet, I thought wildly. It’s going to start hurting really soon.

He gazed down at me for at least a dozen heartbeats, eyes locked on mine as if searching through my essence—eyes that promised death and pain and vengeance. I could feel the rage that he held in check, could feel myself trembling violently in his hold, but I couldn’t look away, didn’t want to look away.

Then suddenly the fury in his eyes faded. “I see,” he murmured, so softly I never would have heard it if he hadn’t been inches away from me.

I gasped for breath as my heart hammered so loudly I knew he could hear it. “Let me go … please.”

He was silent for several more heartbeats, his eyes still holding mine. Then he smiled—a dazzling sight—and gave a small laugh. “But … you do not want me to let you go.” He bent and brushed my lips lightly with his.

My heart jumped in a combination of confusion and shock. What the fuck? Surely he was toying with me. He would destroy me, but first he would humiliate me….

“No. Don’t do this,” I breathed. “Just kill me quickly. Get it over with.”

He continued to cradle my face, then trailed the fingers of one hand lightly down my throat before slowly withdrawing them. He tilted his head slightly, eyes on mine. “So eager to die,” he murmured, then laughed low in his throat, shaking his head. He no longer looked enraged. Instead, he looked amused and … delighted? I blinked, terror shifting into bafflement.

He lifted a hand and I flinched, expecting a flare of pain, but instead he merely reached out to stroke my hair, sliding his hand to the back of my neck. My confusion increased tenfold. Was this just a prelude to some sort of complex torment?

“Look,” I said, working hard to keep my voice from quavering. “I’m very sorry I summoned you. I didn’t mean to. It was a mistake. Please, let me go, and I’ll dismiss you and send you back.”