“The aftercare.” The wax had burned her pretty flesh, marking her everywhere it fell. He knew it wouldn’t last, but he loved seeing her skin marked.
She was like a cat, rolling her body towards his strokes of the sponge, moaning in the back of her throat. She’d cried when she came the final time, but when she’d looked at him he didn’t see sorrow, he saw relief. Freedom.
He smiled, pressing a kiss to her cheekbone, and then one on her lips. He hovered there, loving the way she reacted to him, her breathing quickening before her brows drew together, creating a delicate line on her forehead.
“I have to re-pierce them after every shift,” he explained, already knowing where her thoughts were.
“So you have to keep re-piercing your cock?” she winced.
“I do.” Titus chuckled. “Would you prefer I didn’t?”
“Oh, I’m one hundred per cent on team cock piercing.”
The sponge brushed over her sensitive nipple, and she sucked in a breath through her teeth. So he did it again.
“Ti!” she groaned, reaching up behind her to thread her fingers through his hair.
“Would you let me pierce your nipples?”
She bit her bottom lip. “Maybe. Do I get a special prize if I do?”
He buried his nose against her neck. “You’ll have to wait and see.” The idea of him piercing, permanently marking her sent blood straight to his cock, and it wasn’t like he could hide it while she was currently sitting on him. But the bath wasn’t about sex, it was about her. “Drink your water.”
“I’d rather sit on your –”
“Rae.” His tone left no room for argument.
She sighed, sitting forward to grab the glass he’d poured for her. She was all talk, her muscles like marshmallow as she swallowed several decent gulps before placing it back down on the side. He’d had to carry her to the bath, her legs trembling in the aftermath.
“Turn,” he asked rather than demanded, nudging her hip. She followed the instruction without an argument, straddling his thighs. “You’re much more agreeable after an orgasm, I’ve noticed,” he said with a smirk.
She stuck her tongue out, but her eyes glistened with amusement. Her attention drifted to his chest, hands reaching over to touch against the large skull tattooed there. “What do they mean?” she asked, fingers brushing along the dark lines and swirls.
“They’re called glyphs. Unlike witches, who use all five elements within their magic, druids can only use arcane. The glyphs are traditionally tattooed onto young druids’ wrists. They’re used to syphon their chi, because without them what little magic they have would be too much, and could kill them.”
“Yet you’re covered in these glyphs,” she commented, meeting his gaze. “And Cassiel called you a Daemon, not a druid.”
He raised a single brow. “So you’re on a first name basis with the Councilman now?” he asked with a slight teasing note.
She smacked him against his pec, the water sloshing around them. “Is that what you are? A Daemon?”
He’d been waiting for the question, and still he didn’t know how to answer. “I don’t know.”
“Tell me about them,” she asked. “Are they like what I learnt as a kid? An eternity of suffering my sins in hell, with horned men poking me with pitchforks? Because not going to lie, sounds like a good time to me.”
“I sometimes forget you’re human.” He shook his head.
Rae’s eyes narrowed, but her upper lip twitched. Titus gently grabbed the shampoo bottle, Rae moaning when he began to lather it into her hair.
“Tell me,” she said huskily. “Please.”
Titus didn’t stop, enjoying the way her eyes closed in bliss. “Daemons are druids who choose to accept black magic, and in doing so it corrupts them in both mind and body. Many became monsters, but they’re not like the stories you grew up with, at least not entirely. They’re a Breed not yet recognised by the Council, despite being as old as time.”
“What makes them so bad?” she asked, eyes opening to slits.
“The same as everyone else. Their choices. Black magic can change you, the power that comes with it obsessive, and the only way to gain more is with sacrifices.” He cleared his throat. “All magic requires balance, a sacrifice for power. In exchange for the magic, Daemons became chained to a realm called the Nether through a summoning name, which is where the scripture for Hell came from. While the name is still used for balance, Daemons are no longer trapped to live in the dark.”
“And what about you?” she asked softly.
