Soft steps paddedacross the hardwood floor, barely making a sound. I couldn’t see her face, only her small feet, toes painted red, the hem of my shirt brushing her upper thighs, bare legs catching moonlight as she stepped into the room. She didn’t speak. Just watched me.
The breath caught in my throat as Grace climbed onto the edge of the futon. Her hair was wild, messy from sleep, but her eyes held a hunger I’d never seen so bare. She leaned down and brushed my lips with hers. It was a slow, careful tasting.
Her fingers brushed over my chest, trailing lower. “I couldn’t sleep,” she whispered.
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. My hands found her hips as she straddled me, warm and ready. The cotton of my shirt slid up her thighs as she rocked forward. No panties. She was slick and heated, gliding over the length of me without pause. I hissed between my teeth as her folds parted around my cock, teasing but not taking me in.
“Tell me to stop,” she murmured.
I gripped her harder. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
She moaned, and I felt her body open, taking me inside slowly, inch by inch, until I was fully buried in her. Her head dropped back, mouth parted in bliss, and I surged up to claim her lips. She rode me in a steady rhythm, the heat between us drowned every thought I’d ever had of self-control.
I grabbed her ass, squeezing and parting her cheeks as I thrust up into her, and she cried out, her body tightening, hips grinding. The friction was unbearable and perfect.
My name on her lips broke me.
And just as quickly as it all began, the air shifted.
Suddenly she was yanked back from me, her scream cut off, the entire room engulfed in smoke and flame. I reached out for her, but the flames burned my hands. I bolted upright, still dreaming, but I couldn’t breathe.
“Grace!”
No answer.
I turned in the darkness. A shape waited there, rising from the shadows.
Bael.
Twisted and grotesque. The demon’s horns curled from his skull like a crown. Its skin was blackened, like charcoal, and wet with rot. Its mouth stretched into something between a grin and a wound; teeth slick with blood.
“She’s mine now,” he rasped, voice sounding rough, as it were burning in coal.
I lunged forward, fists swinging, but I couldn’t move. Chains wrapped around my wrists, yanking me to my knees.
“You took what belongs to me,” Bael growled, stepping closer. “And now she’s returned.”
“If you hurt her…”
The demon made a dismissive gesture. “I want you to know that I had nothing to do with this. She opened the door when shebound herself to you. Stupid little witch didn’t even realize the sigil was flawed.”
My heart slammed in my chest. “She doesn’t belong to you.”
“She does,” he snarled, reaching out. Flames burst along the walls, and behind him, Grace screamed. She was on the ground, crawling, blood streaking her hands, her body dragging against cracked stone.
Bael turned to her, crouched low. “The moment she marked herself for you, she gave me the right. She made herself mine.”
I fought the chains. “Let her go!”
His laugh was jagged. “She bonded herself to a cursed soul, and now she walks through hell beside you. Even now, her blood sings in my world.”
Grace turned toward me, mouth open in another scream, and the world, as I knew it, shattered. I shot up from the couch gasping, drenched in sweat, my lungs burning.
The futon cushions beneath me were soaked in sweat, and I stared down at my hands and arms wondering why my skin felt so raw.
Grace hovered above me, her pale face looking worried. Her hand reached for my shoulder. “Peter? You were scream…”
I grabbed her before I could stop myself, flipping her hard beside me into the futon. Her body hit the cushions, and I pinned her there, both of us panting, staring into each other’s eyes.
