Secrets of the Demon (Kara Gillian 3)

I’m simply waiting for her to recover fully, I told myself, though it still felt like a hollow excuse.

I tried to avoid thinking about Tessa as I made the needed changes to the large diagram—the one that would serve as the actual summoning circle. Each level of demon required a slightly different ritual and means of crafting the protections, and the last demon I’d summoned had been the zhurn Skalz. In some ways the summoning of Rhyzkahl would be easier, even though he was a far more powerful creature. Since I had an existing arrangement with him, I didn’t have to maintain the wards and bindings that would normally keep me from being torn into ugly pieces by the demon before the terms were set. But the forming of the portal itself was trickier, and even though it didn’t necessarily require more potency, my concentration had to be spot-on.

I pulled the arcane power to me, shaping it and feeding it into the diagram with the ease of far too much practice. It didn’t feel natural to be so adept at summoning a demonic lord. Then again, this is a demonic lord who wants to be summoned. A summoning of an unwilling demonic lord would require several summoners and a helluva lot more power. I was insanely proud of my storage diagram, but I had serious doubts that it could hold enough power to summon an unwilling demonic lord. Maybe have several diagrams? But then the summoning would become even more complicated by the need to draw power smoothly and evenly from multiple sources . . .

I scowled and shook my head, returning my full focus to what I doing. Now was not the time to allow my attention to wander. I could feel the portal as it formed, joining the two spheres, creating the slit in the universe. An icy wind rose from nowhere, whipping through the basement as the sigils in the diagram began to glow in arcane brilliance. The power surged through me with intoxicating surety as I spoke the demon’s name.

“Rhyzkahl.”

A heartbeat later the portal snapped closed, the wind and light gone as if they’d never been. My eyes adjusted to the sudden dark enough to see the crouched figure in the circle. As he straightened I dropped the wardings and protections around the diagram. They weren’t meant to keep him contained anyway. I didn’t have the means or power to create arcane bindings that could hold him.

He shook his white blond hair back to send it rippling in a perfect silken fall down his back. Holy shit, he was gorgeous. The sight of him took my breath away. Every. Single. Time. Angelic features—the kick-butt guardian angel kind, not the dorky cherub sort—coupled with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. Everything perfectly taut and muscled. His eyes were a sharp blue, full of carefully controlled power, deep and ancient. He was wearing a black silk shirt, unbuttoned and untucked, and black breeches and boots as well. And somehow he managed to still look like a complete badass instead of a romance novel cover model. No, the dangerous air about him wasn’t a “bad boy” vibe. It was more of a “I have the power and the willingness to destroy you with the flick of my little finger” vibe.

“You grow more adept at handling the portal,” he said with an approving nod, and I couldn’t help but feel a smug pride. He had no problem giving me shit when I screwed something up, so a compliment from him about matters of the arcane was a legitimate reason to feel good.

He stepped to me and kissed me lightly—almost tenderly, then stroked the back of his fingers over my cheek. “You look well. Rested.” He bent and kissed me again, and this time it wasn’t tender at all. This was a “you’re mine” kiss that sent my pulse slamming and heat surging down to my toes. His arms came around me as I molded myself against him. It was so much of a habit I hardly even thought about it anymore. Good thing, since rational thought was barely possible. His hands slipped under my shirt and within seconds he’d pulled it off. A heartbeat later I was on my back on the carpet as he deftly tugged my silk pants off and cast them aside.>And he whacked me right back.

I burst out laughing in a combination of surprise and relief. A slight smile curved his mouth and he carefully set the pillow back on the couch.

“Do not fear, dear one,” he said. “I am able to discern entertainment from information.”

I sat back and tucked my legs up beside me. “Okay, so why do you want to know all this?”

“Is this one of your questions?” he asked, eyes intent upon me.

I almost nodded, then I caught myself. “No,” I said. “There’s something else I want to know more.”

He smiled and took hold of my ankles, then pulled so that I was abruptly lying with my lower half across his lap. He released my ankles then slipped his hand to the waistband of my silk pants and began to tug them lower. “You wish to know how many times I can make you release before I return to my demesne?”

A wonderful shudder raced through me. Yes! “No! I mean, well . . . that’s not my question.” I dropped my head back as his hand parted my legs, then couldn’t speak for a few minutes.

“Ah,” he said while I tried to catch my breath. “I will have to keep guessing since you refuse to speak it.”

“Nice try,” I managed as I pushed myself to sit. “I want to know if Ryan—” An instant later my words were cut off by his mouth on mine and his hand on my breast. I wanted to be angry, but I found myself laughing against his mouth instead. He was so clearly enjoying toying with me, plus I didn’t exactly hate kissing him. He answered my laugh with a low chuckle, but didn’t release my mouth for several marvelous minutes. And, when he suggested something else with which to occupy my mouth, I eagerly complied.

For a few precious seconds he was the breathless one, but I wasted time grinning smugly. As soon as I began to speak he was on his feet with me slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. I let out a shriek of protest, and he gave me a light smack on my naked rear as he walked me to the kitchen. He was openly grinning when he set me on my feet, then he turned me to bend me over the kitchen table.

“This isn’t fair,” I protested as he proceeded to demonstrate the quick recovery time of a demonic lord.

“You have only to say the word and I will stop,” he said as he thrust deeply.

I groaned and wiggled my hips. “Maybe in a bit.”

“Good. Because I intend to fuck you in every room of your house.” He stated it completely matter-of-factly and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“I won’t be able to walk tomorrow!”

But I didn’t tell him to stop.

He lived up to his word, too. For the rest of the night we moved from room to room, always playful and laughing. My bedroom was the last to be christened, but instead of using the bed, he chose to press me against the wall, holding my wrists above my head while I wrapped my legs tightly around his waist as he drove into me. I twisted against his grasp and he tightened his grip, his azure eyes locked onto mine and a triumphant smile curving his mouth. But I wasn’t afraid. Excited, aroused, and extremely well-fucked, yes, but not afraid.

“I will take you back to my realm someday,” he murmured, eyes still intent on mine. “And I will fuck you in every room of my palace. A different position in each room.” His grip tightened very slightly and I let out a low moan. “And there are many many rooms in my palace,” he added with a low chuckle.

“Yes,” I gasped without thinking. But before I could say anything else his hand was over my mouth, and his eyes had gone dark and dangerous. Panic surged through me, and I struggled against him. Then I was coming, and screaming my release into his hand.

After it was done he carried me back to the living room and cradled me in his lap on the couch. I didn’t know what to think about what he’d said. And what I’d said. After several moments of silence he spoke, voice low.

“Ask your questions, dearest.”