Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

I should be sleeping, but all I can think about is what Agatha said.

Someone stole the mask, the creepy one. How did she know it sang to me?

What does it mean that such a cursed object called to me?

Nothing good, that's for sure, and the panic in her tone when she saw me arguing had me questioning everything. I feel like my whole world is spiralling as I lie in my bed and stare at the ceiling, trying to put it back into order so my feelings don't overwhelm me. I have always kept careful control over them to keep order, but they seem to be squeezing through more often, and I don't like who I am when they do.

As usual, the demon crawls up onto my bed, wrapping his arms and legs around me. It is usually too tight. "Breathe through it," he murmurs softly in my ear. "I'm right here. In and out slowly."

I try, I really do. I do the breathing exercises he taught me after many nights like this—after fights with other coven members, a bad day, or one too many drinks . . . .

How many nights has the demon spent breathing with me until all those pieces inside me go back where they should be?

Too many to count .

I don't know why, but that only makes those pieces scatter more, leaving me frayed and vulnerable. My hands curl into the sheets as I breathe in his scent, and the thing inside me surges forward as if sensing my weakness. The tight fist of control I always keep loosens.

He senses it, as he always does.

"Enough, control it." His nails dig into my cheeks, and the sharp sting of pain makes desire flare inside me. I drop my eyes to his lips, which are inches away, remembering the taste of him.

I try to roll away, deciding I'll go seek out a partner for the night.

I'll paint these worries across their skin, and in the morning, everything will be back to normal.

I'll use them like I always do.

"No." Arms drag me back, flipping me, and suddenly, the demon is above me, his eyes glowing. "Not tonight, little witch. If you are going to use anyone to fight the war, it will be me. You are too out of control, and you can feel it. They cannot handle that, but I can take it." His lips slide across my cheek to my ear, leaving me trembling. "So use me, little witch. I can take it all. I can take everything inside you. Nothing there scares me."

"It scares me," I admit softly.

"I know." He kisses over my jumping pulse. "Fight, little witch. Fight with me."

He lifts his head, just a few inches above me. His hands are on either side of me, and he's pinning my legs down. I see the determination on his face. He's not letting me go, not tonight, and despite the fact that there is no deal, I reach for him.

I drag him down and press my lips to his, and I lose myself in him. I pour my darkness into him, and I let him drink it down.

I use him just like he said.

He moans against my lips and falls into my body, every hard inch of him pressing me to the furs on my bed. The weight should be suffocating, but I tear at his back with my nails, needing him closer. He hisses in pleasure, and my hands wrap around his horns, yanking him off. I throw him across the bed and then lunge, pinning him down as my lips meet his once more .

I rip at his clothes, feeling them tear, but I need to get closer. My nails cut him, and I taste his blood as our teeth clash. His moans mix with my groans as I take out the darkness on his skin.

My hands slip lower, sliding into his trousers, and he gasps, his back arching as I wrap my fingers around his huge cock. It should stop me, and I shouldn't do this, but I do.

It's beyond me now, beyond us. This is out of control.

This is life or death, and I cannot stop or I'll shatter, and I do not know what will be left.

He moans as I pump his length. "Little witch."

I tease him, feeling every inch of the cock I've only ever seen, never touched. He's so big, I can't even close my hand all the way around him. He's larger than any I've ever had and so hot it nearly burns my hand. Fire, he feels like fire in my grip. It's the underside of his cock, though, that has me mewling and grinding into his thigh, pleasure filling me.

Spikes run down the underside of his cock, and when I stroke down to the base, they bend, tickling my palm. How would they feel inside me? They could dig in like barbs, but the thought only makes me hotter, and my lips find his again as his cock jerks in my grip.

I want all his noises. I want his surrender despite what and who he is.

He gives it to me, knowing I need it.

He lets me use his body like a toy, the feelings inside me flowing from me to him as he groans, lifting his hips to slide his cock into my hand until I grind against his thigh, hitting my clit with each movement.

I cry out into his mouth as I come. His hand grips the back of my head, keeping me there as he thrusts into my fist and swallows my cry of pleasure. When he groans, I feel him jerk in my hand before red-hot fire coats my palm, and I know he came.

I slump forward, all those emotions suddenly just gone, leaving me feeling alone, confused, and guilty.

I pant against his neck, tasting the sweat on his skin. My hand is still in his pants as he lies there, twitching, but when I lift my head, I see a blissful look on his face. It's almost peaceful, his eyes closed and lips slack.

Suddenly, what we just did hits me, and I yank my hand free, wiping it on his jeans. He just grumbles.

I lift my head and look down. My lips are bleeding and swollen, my nails are broken and jagged, and my skin is bruised. The demon lies below me, his eyes dark and lustful, his skin and muscles on display.

He looks every inch the sinner he is, tempting and filthy, and he's all mine.

Shit, what am I thinking? What did I do?

I crossed the line I never should have.

Sliding as far over on the bed as I can, I give the demon my back.

My cheeks heat even in the dark. I dare not turn to see if Phrixius is awake and watching us, yet some part of me likes the idea of the god watching me use this demon to control this thing inside me.

The thing that scares me.