9. Chapter Eight

The rain is falling heavily from the dark sky above, beating against the thick glass of my bedroom window. The sound is incessant, but deeply soothing. This weather made it difficult to get out of bed this morning after an exceptionally long day at work the day before, but I knew I couldn't lay in bed all day and just wait for this day to end.

Pushing open the door of my altar room, I step inside the cozy space and immediately close the door behind me. Moving to stand in front of my altar, I lower myself down into a kneeling position.

So much has happened since I last knelt down in this sacred room. The protection spell I cast on a little brown pouch and kept securely in my pocket for my dad's birthday party was a success, my childhood abuser was sent away thanks to the defensive magic I carried with me.

The strength and control that I felt after that fateful day was how I imagined a drug would feel to a new addict. Intoxicating, heady, and triggering all those sore places inside of me that are desperate for relief.

My need for safety and control over my own life is overwhelming, since it was stripped away from me at such a young age. With the use of magic comes control of the world around you, and that is incredibly irresistible for someone like me. Someone that feels the inherent drive to protect herself and prevent the horrors that could befall her.

Last night, it took me forever to fall asleep. I keep fantasizing about the potential Daemon was promising me. Could I stop people from hurting me entirely? Could I bring real success and luck into my everyday life? How far could my magic take me?

Those thoughts haunted me late into the night, and it wasn't until I promised myself that I would seek the answers to those questions the following morning that my mind finally relaxed enough for me to actually sleep.

Kneeling here now, before the altar I assembled a few months ago as an inexperienced witch, I feel in charge of my life for the first time.

Although my spell was a success, everything that led me to this moment also led me to Daemon. A Prince of Hell, a dark entity that was the very thing capable of proving the existence of the paranormal to me.

Something put me in the direct path of the most horrific supernatural experiences, events I never imagined possible in this reality, and there was no turning back now.

All I want is to take full control of my life, and find out exactly what Daemon is offering. I want to know every single detail if I am going to allow a demon to bind my soul to him forever.

Knowledge. Strength. Control. If those things are within my reach, I want them. I don't ever want to be somebody's helpless victim, not ever again.

Leaning forward slightly, I take a few minutes to light the candles and position two of them on either side of the altar for lighting, before shifting my body back into position.

I close my eyes, settling my hands palms down over my bare thighs. The bottoms of my loose-fitting black silk shorts tickle my wrists, so I reposition myself and take a deep, steadying breath.

I focus my mind on Daemon, on the memory of our first time meeting here in this room. I recall the sound of his voice, the feel of his otherworldly body, and the way his presence overpowered me.

"Daemon, Prince of Hell, I call to you," I call out, my voice sounding louder than it feels like it should be in the quiet atmosphere of my apartment. "Show me what I am capable of."

I wait for several long minutes, expecting to feel a shift in the energy or hear his voice from somewhere beyond. I can't quite describe what it is I am feeling in this moment, but it doesn't feel like his arrival. Perhaps Daemon didn't hear me? Maybe I need a formal ritual to summon him.

Opening my eyes, I cannot stop the startled scream that escapes me as every hair on my body stands on end.

There's a shadow figure in front of me, its body contorted on top of the comparatively small surface of my altar. I can hardly make sense of the outline of its manifestation, but I can see enough to know it is a poor mimic of how a real person is supposed to be shaped.

The demonic entity is horrifying, with vibrant red eyes and a set of horns curling from the crown of its head. It is staring at me wide-eyed, like something that crawled out of Hell and tried to make my altar its new home.

Before I can break through the terror of its sudden appearance and move away, I watch in horror as the monster's mouth splits unnaturally wide and its head falls back in an awful, soundless scream. Frozen in fear, I am shocked into silence as whatever this is, is pulled violently towards the back of the closet, vanishing into the thick blackness beyond.

As my entire body begins to shake from the adrenaline pumping through me, I shuffle back towards the door, only to collide with a hard wall of muscle and warmth.

Daemon.

"Little witch." His voice is the most smooth and deep sound I have ever heard. It sinks into me like warm water through thick cloth, soothing all of the nerves set on fire from the other entity's sudden appearance moments ago.

"You scared the living hell out of me," I gasp, taking a steadying breath before I force myself to relax into the contours of his substantial, strange body. I still don't understand how a demon can make me feel so safe, but he achieves the impossible every time we meet.

Daemon, or whatever his true name is, is also an unholy being from Hell. There is absolutely no reason I should feel safe with him, I know that. I can't explain my feelings, or why they came on so suddenly. I just know what I feel when his body touches mine.

I'm already well aware that he can alter my reality, make me feel things that don't come naturally to me. He forced me to become calm and clear headed back at the church, when faced with the unimaginable horror of what I know now was just a shadow of his true self. He's capable of more than I can fathom, and for all I know, everything I feel and every word from his mouth has been a lie.

He also has not given me any indication of intent to harm me. He killed my uncle for me, and saved me from that demon in the taxi. If anything, he has shown me through his actions that he wants to protect me. His previous words, and his reasoning for wanting to bind my soul to him, make me believe he isn't lying. It all makes sense to me when I put it together, like pieces of a puzzle.

If there is indeed an untapped well of power within me, of course he wants access to it. Especially if it elevates him and increases his own power.

"That was not me," he whispers, his soft lips brushing against the shell of my ear. His breath comes out in warm puffs, making me shiver against him. He seems to enjoy how my body responds, because he winds an arm around my waist and pulls me in tighter against him. "Another demon heard your call, but I cast him back down."

"I've never had paranormal experiences before. Why are all these demons showing up everywhere now?" I ask him, closing my eyes as I nestle a little harder into his embrace. He is so much larger than me, I can't imagine any lesser demon harming me while he is holding me so protectively.

The warmth of his body seeps right down into me and settles, driving all the fear and coldness away. The things he makes me feel are addictive, which makes him dangerous. I can't help but wonder if he wants me to feel this way, drunk on his presence.

He feels like safety, and although I know that thought is madness, I can't resist the pull of it. I've always sought safety in life, which I'm certain is a byproduct of my childhood trauma, so when someone indomitable enough to give it to me actually offers it up on a silver platter, I feel compelled to accept it against my better judgment.

Safety is a seductive, instinctual need for me. The desire for protection is a seed that was planted in me when I was just a broken child. That seed grew as I did, into a gnarled tree rooted deep in my gut. A twisted tree that is still dying of insatiable thirst, dehydrated all the way through.

"They can feel the power awakening in you," he says gently against my ear, his voice so pleasurable to my senses that I shiver yet again in response. "Every demon would want you for themselves, so they can possess you and use your power to climb the ranks of Hell."

My eyes shoot open. Dread settles over me as I process his words. "No. That can't be true. There's no reason for demons to want to possess me. I'm nobody!"

Light laughter slips from his mouth, a gentle rumble in his broad chest. "Lies. I am omniscient, and there is nothing about you that I do not already know."

Right. That means, if there is something special inside of me, he already knows all about it. I'm the only one in the dark here. The lack of information, with demons becoming aware of my existence, puts me in grave danger.

"You need not fear them, little witch. I will tear them apart until they are nothing but broken atoms in the cosmic wind."

I don't know what to say in response, I can only hope he is right. I am not equipped to deal with demons, I've only recently begun exploring protection magic as the first steps on my journey to becoming a witch.

Surely a Great Prince of Hell can protect me from everything that would seek to harm me, right? That means giving myself to him fully, and letting him bind my soul to him for eternity.

That is far from a small price to pay for protection and knowledge. For power. I sigh, shaking my head. I cannot believe this is my reality.

One of Daemon's oversized hands travels across my body, drifting up towards my throat where it settles comfortably beneath my jawline. Logically, I know that should scare me, but he applies minimal pressure and uses one clawed finger to stroke the line of my jaw.

I sigh once more, a deep and expressive sound. A wave of calm like I felt back at the church spreads over me, soothing me. I give in to him, not just because I crave the comfort he offers, but because I am tired of feeling like life is a losing battle that I am endlessly fighting. I am tired of being afraid, of questioning everything and everyone. I want to be in control, and most importantly I want to be strong enough to protect myself.

"You have nothing to fear, Selene. You are mine, and only mine, and once our bond is complete you will bear my mark all over your mortal soul. Any demon that comes for you will know what will happen if they touch what belongs to me."

As I process his words, my peripheral vision catches the sight of his hand as it moves. Stroking my face soothingly, I see what looks like fingertips that end in thick, curved talons.

I try to turn my head to look at him, but he stops me from doing it by tightening his hold on my throat.

"I want to see you," I try to explain as I lift my hand to his, the attempt to pry his hand from me is completely useless. He doesn't budge even a little bit, reminding me that his physical strength is far beyond what I ever imagined. He could kill me in an instant, and I couldn't fight back no matter how hard I tried.

I take note of the way his skin feels beneath mine. Smooth, warm and hard with muscle and tough sinew. He doesn't feel human, but that isn't necessarily a bad thing. He's just… different.

"You are not ready to see me," he explains gently, the tone of his voice fluctuating and reminding me just how inhuman he is. In the darkness, with his human-like body pressed against my back and holding me like one would hold their lover, it's easy to forget that he isn't even a little bit human. "When humans see my true form, they tend to descend into irreparable insanity. You've experienced it."

I don't doubt that even a little, considering how he needed to make a major effort to protect me back in the church when he first showed himself to me.

Recalling the memory of what the silhouette of him looked like, I can't stop myself from picturing him as an eldritch horror, with long spiraling horns and a misshapen face that is something people only encounter in their darkest nightmares.

"Shhh," he soothes, dropping his hand from my throat. "Do not dwell on such things. Once you fully awaken, you will have what you need to protect yourself as you gaze into the void."

I nod in response. I have to trust him in this. The last thing I want is to spend the rest of my days in a straight jacket, sequestered away from society.

"Let me give you what you seek, a taste of the power I can unleash within you," he whispers to me as another pulsating wave of tranquility settles over me.

Daemon's hand grasps my wrist as his arm rises to the right of me, holding me in his firm grip. I am shocked to find that his muscular forearm is black like the most beautiful obsidian stone I've ever seen. I am in awe at the sight of it, my gaze wandering across the muscular expanse of dark skin.

"Inside of you, there is a fire. A primeval source that sits at the root of your soul," he tells me as I examine the small portion of his body I can now see. It's hard to concentrate on his words when he is giving me a glimpse of what he truly looks like.

His hand is double the size of mine, dwarfing my slender fingers. There are intricate runes and demonic symbols imprinted into the black of his shadowy skin. They glow, dim and subtle, like the embers of a starving fire. The patterns are haunting and beautiful, despite being very clearly demonic. They remind me of the sigil I carved into my protection candle, and the other symbols I saw in the old book I originally found it in.

Demonic and meaningful. I wonder if they are all over the rest of his body, too.

"My touch." he explains, his sharp teeth biting gently at my earlobe before leaving a hot trail of soft kisses down the side of my neck, causing my body to arch involuntarily as I melt against him. "My touch stokes that fire, and turns it from a bed of embers into a roaring inferno."

His touch shouldn't feel this good. It's sinful, the way my body responds to him.

"Did you put it there?" I whisper in response, my voice a breathy whisper in the darkness that surrounds us. His mouth feels so damn good on my skin, I can feel heat gathering at the apex of my thighs. Unbidden is the response my body has to him, but I feel no shame.

We are far past the point of shame.

"No, little witch. Your ancestors did. Witchcraft is your birthright, there is magic in your blood. Etched into your DNA."

"I can't feel it," I tell him, unable to truly believe what he's telling me. I've never felt special, I certainly don't feel any ancient fire inside of me. Sure, I've felt called to the craft, but I assumed it was because of my dire need to find protection and safety from my now dead, abusive uncle.

"The power of magic can come from several sources within us. The fire can grow with extreme focus and discipline, or stem from the pit of one's endless rage." His other arm shifts, moving across my lower abdomen. The trail of his talons across the thin fabric of my tank top has shivers erupting in their wake. "Pleasure and passion can make the fire burn wild, too."

My head falls back against his shoulder as his hand roams my body, and in that instance I feel intoxicated by his touch. His soft, hot mouth trails fervid kisses along the column of my throat, slow and sensual. An ache settles low in my abdomen, and desire like I've never experienced before emerges from somewhere deep within.

I want him. I want this Great Prince of Hell more than I've wanted any of my human lovers in the past. I can't fully explain it, but he instinctively knows exactly how to touch me to get the strongest reaction.

Something dark and warm flutters across my skin, like a spectral fire blazing an unyielding trail, an energy that emanates from his touch and threatens to consume me. "It is me that you feel on your skin, my own great power, an energy born in the deepest, darkest regions of Hell." He is allowing his dark lifeforce to pulse across me in waves, to touch me directly, to explore my body like it has every right to do so.

"Religion oppresses, Hell liberates," he speaks quietly, his voice disembodied and moving around me like a serpent in the darkness. I shiver again, everything about what is happening is overwhelming to my very human senses. "Only a demon can awaken what lies hidden inside you, but a lesser demon cannot give you what I can. Only I am powerful enough to unshackle your magic and set it completely free."

Daemon's hand shifts and settles over my lower abdomen, his fingers flirting with the hem of my delicate sleeping shorts. I groan as his hand slips lower, beneath the frail fabric, those talons moving dangerously close to the most sensitive part of my body.

Another time, long before Daemon entered my life, I'd feel ashamed of myself for what I was feeling right now. The thrill of danger is only amplifying my arousal, and I don't want to waste time fighting with myself on why our connection is so sacrilegious. I just want to feel.

"I will show you a glimpse of your true power, but I want something in return," he whispers, his lips once again grazing the shell of my ear. Several gentle bites, and my concentration wavers. I can feel the fire within me now, called to his touch. A flickering flame, hungry and desperate for fuel.

And his teeth, I can tell they're not human. He has long, sharp fangs that could easily tear the jugular vein clear out of my throat. The feel of them is an aphrodisiac to my corrupted mind.

Anything. I'll give him anything he wants right now.

"What do you want?" I ask, my voice so low and quiet that if he were a normal person he probably would not have heard me. I can't project my voice, not with the white hot arousal sparking to life beneath his wicked hand. If I hadn't already been on the floor, I am certain the way he is touching me would bring me to my knees.

With a soft exhale, Daemon bites at my throat, soothing the sting from his sharp teeth with a languid kiss. I moan, and he chooses that moment to slip his fingers down until they brush along my clit. "Your pleasure," he growls against my ear, his hand moving again to firmly cup my pussy as he settles in between my thighs.

Another moan escapes me as I arch against his hold on me, the feel of his energy and his hand over my sex almost enough to bring me to orgasm. My body is a livewire of desire, and right now I am certain I'd give him anything he asked of me if he just promised he wouldn't stop.

"Take it," I tell him, and he does. His fingers move through the folds of my pussy, where I am wet and swollen and more sensitive than I can ever imagine being before. "Please take it," I beg, feeling the fire deep inside of me roaring to life under the coaxing intensity of him.

"That's my good girl. Let me in so I can feed that starving inferno."

His words are gasoline on the fire, and I moan again as I grind against his hand. Already so close to explosive pleasure, to a delirium that threatens to break me apart, while my body begs him for more.

"No one can give you what I can. No one can love you like I can," he tells me, his dark voice an inhuman growl in my ear. I quiver, feeling so overloaded with sensation that I feel entirely out of control of my body.

"Let me in." Again, his seductive last words are disembodied. Demonic.

I should be praying to God for absolution, but all I want to do is worship at this demon's altar of sin.

I force my own thighs to fall open, inviting his touch. He growls his pleasure, and two of his large fingers slip inside of me. The sound that comes out of me is divine, I am certain of it. A sound born of absolute bliss, of embracing one's own rapture. Something that can only be described as the incarnation of wicked lust.

I nearly come undone, but I feel a blazing heat sparking at my fingertips and the intense sensation pulls my attention to where he firmly holds my hand in his. "You must concentrate. Embrace the fire within you, and will it to move through you. Pull it towards your fingertips, coax it out of your body and into this world."

Daemon points our intertwined fingers towards the center of my altar, and I obey him without resistance. I can now feel the fire at the root of my soul. I let it burn up through me, until the heat of it fills my entire body. For a brief second, I feel as though I will combust. I can feel it in my eyes, and I know without seeing that they must be blazing red and gold from the power burning through me.

I would self-destruct, I am certain, if not for Daemon's power funneling my own safely through me. His body, his strength, and his zealous presence protects me from the nuclear explosion I now know without a shred of doubt I am capable of.

His fingers move inside of me, making me ache and throb under his adept touch. As he promised, he is stoking the fire and building it higher. As his power amplifies, the markings on his arms begin to glow brighter. They are so beautiful, and I am captivated by the rolling flames beneath his obsidian skin.

It is only when sparks burst from my fingertips that my attention is refocused from his otherworldly body and how damn good he is making me feel.

Holy fuck.

Wisps of fire dance along the edges of my fingers, shooting out from behind my skin.

"Just like that. You are magnificent, Selene. A dragon born among lambs." He praises me, catching some of the sparks with the curved talon on his index finger and flicking them outwards. They burst into small flames, dissipating into the darkness.

I am mesmerized. Everything he told me about the power I hold is real. I can feel the fire flaring within me, and I am certain this is not coming from him. I will never in a thousand years forget this feeling of pure, limitless strength.

"Focus. Let your fire free." I narrow my gaze as he coaches me, turning my attention inward. The scorching blaze I possess, his own devilish power, and the feel of his fingers deep in the tight, wet space between my thighs; I am tempered by it all.

I focus as he instructs me to, I visualize the fire breaking loose, and watch in absolute awe as an extraordinary inferno roars to life from my hand.

It grows so great, spilling out into the room and lighting up every dark corner. The blaze dances along the walls, up on the ceiling, and down across the floor before us. It is wild, out of control, threatening to burn my home to the ground.

A little jolt of panic sparks to life inside of me, but his hand that grips my wrist tightens as if to remind me that he is with me. The three middle fingers on his hand flex as they extend, and his own lifeforce, like pools of black ink, pour from them and dance along the boundary of my fire. "Trust in me, little witch."

I relax my body, willing myself to trust in him to guide me away from utter annihilation of all that surrounds me.

He chants briefly, his voice dropping low as words I can't comprehend command the wild magic before us to bow to his will. The fire burning in front of my eyes bends to his will without so much as a shred of resistance. He shapes it, his darkness forcing it to yield until the blaze forms a mirror image of me. I gasp, shocked by the sight of myself made of fire.

"Focus, Selene. That fire is yours and yours alone. It knows your soul, and only you can call it home. Call it back, or it will destroy all that it touches," he speaks to me, but his voice is disembodied again. It is everywhere, outside of me and inside my head all at the same time. He is guiding me, making me feel safe as I play with this dangerous force of nature I am harboring. I can only nod in response, worried that speaking may cause my focus to waver.

"Use the roots of your fire to reach out, take hold of, and guide the fire outside back to you."

I narrow my gaze, and imagine the source of my magic snaking out of me like a living thing. White hot tendrils reach out of my very soul, coiling tight around the edges of the fire I cast out, pulling it towards me. The burning image of myself bends to my will this time.

Daemon's movement between my thighs starts again, and his palm grinds down against my clit. Pleasure explodes, stealing my focus, the fire snapping and popping against my hold like I may lose control of it again.

His laughter, both soft and teasing, echoes around me. It is a dark sound, though I don't feel like he is poking fun at my weakness. He enjoys what his touch does to me. "Focus, Selene."

I do. I focus, and pull the flames back inside of me. The burning heat flows through my fingertips, through my eyes, and into my solar plexus. It fills me from my toes to the crown of my head, rioting through my body like a drug that promises to keep me captive to this new addiction until the very end of time.

Once the darkness swallows the room again, my head crashes back against Daemon's shoulder and his skilled hand brings me to orgasm so hard and fast that everything I fought to contain detonates inside of me.

The bomb goes off, and he bites the side of my throat beneath my ear, hard enough to draw blood.

I feel no pain as his sharp teeth puncture my skin, only white hot pleasure. The ecstasy is so intense it steals the breath from my lungs and consumes every inch of me. I writhe in his embrace, expecting to combust and dissolve into nothingness from the insane intensity of my pleasure.

I can hear dark chanting, reverberating through me as his energy moves over me. He is containing the fire, soothing it, willing it to be calm and contained inside of me.

I am lost, lost in the tidal wave of bliss that crashes into me mercilessly. Daemon holds me in his tight embrace for what feels like an eternity, until my body settles quietly in his arms. I am satiated like I have never been before, every ounce of stress and pain absent from my body. Just a glowing warmth, absolute safety, and vitality vibrating beneath the surface of my skin.

"I am so fucking proud of you, Selene," he whispers against my ear, rocking me gently in his arms. "So many witches would have burned from the inside out attempting what you just did, but your body and soul were made for me. Together, there is nothing we cannot achieve."

I melt under his praise, then blossom like a desert flower starved of water beneath the rarest of rain. The archaic inferno inside of me is no longer dormant, and I feel so alive I don't know how to stop myself from chasing this feeling to the very ends of the earth.

Daemon wasn't lying about my innate power, or how he could set me free. In that moment, I know without a shadow of doubt that tomorrow I am going to say yes to him. I will give myself to this demon, and he will take my very soul.

I wait patiently as he works, soothing my scorched soul and putting the necessary protection in place to prevent my inner magic from consuming me before I learn how to truly wield it. When he is finished, serenity washes over me like a balm.

Pressing a kiss to my throat, he shifts away from me and I am painfully aware of the cold space between us. "Wait," I whisper out loud, fighting against the sudden wave of drowsiness that floods my body as exhaustion takes hold. "Don't go."

"You need to rest, little witch. Your body must recover," he whispers, his voice suddenly becoming disembodied again, as though it is coming from a distance. "I'm always with you."

Just like that, his presence dissipates. I feel the sudden absence of him like a weight on my chest, as though I can't quite catch a full breath. Yesterday, I would have been surprised by this feeling. Not today. Not anymore.

The connection between this demon and I is as real as anything I've ever known, the roots of it reaching deep. As I lift myself up, swaying slightly on my feet, I remind myself that there is no going back from this. You cannot break this kind of connection to an ancient evil, not once it has taken hold.

Leaving the walk-in closet, I enter my bedroom, surprised to find it cloaked in the darkness of night. My eyes wander to the clock on my bedside table, unable to fathom how an entire day has passed me by when it felt like only an hour, maybe two.

9:13pm. I'm too exhausted for a shower, so I strip off what little I am wearing and climb into bed.

Exhaustion slams into me like a freight train, and within minutes of closing my eyes, I am lost to a dreamless sleep.