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“I know,” I reply, voice husky with desire.
This is why I’d pulled back. This is why I’d chosen to do what comes naturally to a demon like me. Torment her. Make her feel pain. To push her away, I did the exact thing that was expected of me. Because this soul is too pure for Bax Daemonus. I do nothing but corrupt and destroy. And after that moment in the library, I realized one thing.
I want Elara Hunt for myself.
And hence, I should resist.
Only now…here I am, on my knees before her. A great archdemon kneeling in front of a mortal, her slick on his tongue, and a thirst for more in his chest.
I should pull back now. Stay the path I’ve chosen and make her leave this place.
But I can’t pull away. And suddenly, Elara’s on her knees before me.
Her lips crash against mine, the world falling away as she meets me with enough fervor to make me fall back in surprise. I hold steady, taking everything she’s offering and still greedy for more. Her kiss is heated, desperate, a release of all the tension that’s been building between us.
Growling against her lips, I rise with her in my arms, lifting her onto my desk, papers scattering as she wraps her legs around my waist.
“Won’t they hear us?” she whispers.
The thought of my subordinates listening to her exquisite moans makes a flare of jealousy shoot through me. With a flick of my hand, we’re at one of the abandoned altars far away from any demon ears or eyes.
There’s no room for thoughts, for doubts. There’s only this moment, this female, and the undeniable pull between us.
* * *
Elara
The towering spire we materialize on overlooks the fiery expanse of Hell.
The ancient altar itself is carved from dark material, intricate symbols and scenes of depravity etched into its surface. It stands at the very precipice of a jagged outcropping, a sheer drop all around down to the lava flows and smoldering wastelands below.
My eyes widen as I take in the sweeping vista before us. Rivers of molten fire carve glowing paths through barren plains. Volcanoes spew plumes of ash into the sky. In the distance, the imposing black tower of Lucifer’s palace juts up from the glowing embers blanketing the ground.
Up here, the sulfurous haze gives way to a clear, crimson-tinged sky. The chaotic noise of Hell fades into the distance, replaced by the gentle whispers of hot wind. It’s oddly peaceful.
Bax walks slowly and sets me down on the warm, smooth stone, and as our lips collide once more, Bax’s tongue slithers into my mouth, exploring every crevice. His kiss is overpowering, intoxicating, and I’m lost in the sensation of his lips over mine, even as I taste myself on his tongue. I break the kiss, gasping for air, only for him to move to my neck, biting and sucking on the sensitive skin there. His fangs graze against my smooth skin, sending shivers through my frame.
A moan escapes my lips, and I feel his curve into a wicked smile. “Do that again, angel,” he growls, the words filled with a demonic edge that sends more shivers down my spine.
I moan again, unable to form words as he continues his assault on my neck. Instead, my hands are busy with the buttons of his shirt, his skin pebbling underneath my fingers. He chuckles, a deep, lusty laugh that only makes me want this more.
“So eager, Elara. I might have to punish you for that.”
“Punish me?” I pant.
Bax growls, lifting his head as his eyes flash flames. “Don’t tempt me, angel.”
I don’t care. I don’t care about the consequences. I don’t care about anything except the feel of him beneath my fingertips. Bax’s shirt comes off easily, and I run my fingers over his chest, tracing the ridges of his muscles, the lines of the thin scars on his chest. He’s warm, so warm under my hands, and I press myself against him, needing to feel his body against mine.
I drop my head to his shoulder, my lips finding the soft flesh at the base of his neck. Something makes me take the skin between my teeth, nipping him lightly.
Bax growls, the sound reverberating through his body, and lifts me higher on the altar, my back against the scorched stone wall as my legs tighten around his waist.
I feel the moment he flicks his hand and superficial flames whip around us, dissolving all our clothes and lighting the edges of the altar.
I’m suddenly bare before him and I ease back a little more, realizing that for the first time, he’s bare before me, too.
My eyes widen at the sight of him. His body is perfect, his skin that deep crimson, reflecting the shades of firelight around the altar. He’s all muscle and sinew, every inch of him seeming to be chiseled from marble. On his head, two smaller horns spring from his temples, silhouetted by the larger ones that curve up from his skull.
