Page 43 of Demonic Delights

“Yes, Daddy.”

I feel giddy and drunk, fighting against giggles threatening to erupt from deep within my chest. But when I think about it, I realise I haven’t had a drop of wine today. Well, that’s a fucking first in a long time.

“You’re going to keep your eyes on the mirror.” His voice is velvet and gravel, and his eyes are boring into my soul.

“Yes, Daddy.”

He grabs my chin to force me to keep looking at him in a gesture that is as familiar as it is irresistible to me. It still feels strange—and strangely flattering—knowing that he has leeched it out of whatever remains of Silas’s soul precisely because I’ve always liked it.

“I’ll try to hold back. But you must tell me if I’m hurting you. Too much.” He rubs his thumb over my lips. Electricity zaps through me, and I close my eyes with a soft moan.

“You know that nothing is ever too much for me,” I protest in a sweet voice.

He shakes his head resolutely. “You haven’t been with me like this, Roxana,” he says, the line of his mouth stern in the carefully curated expanse of his beard. “I need you to keep me in check. I could obliterate you with pleasure if I’m not careful.”

“And wouldn’t that be a great way to die?” I bite gently into his thumb, and he sighs with the air of suffering.

“Get on the bed,” he instructs me and slaps my ass when I turn around.

The sharp impact ripples through me and still burns when I plop down on my back on the cool, soothing satin sheets.

“Eyes on the mirror.”

I turn my head to the side, unsurprised to be met with my shadowy reflection in the ornate black frame, younger-looking and more beautiful than I’ve ever been. The bedroom around her is darker and bare of any furniture except for the bed. Sconces with black candles line the walls.

I hear the rustle of his feet on the carpet as he approaches, slowly and with hesitation evident in his step.

“You’ll be able to see me in the mirror now. Don’t be scared, dark darling.”

“I won’t be,” I promise him, and I mean it.

I’m tingling all over with nervous anticipation, my breath short, my heart beating fast and liquid excitement pooling in my core. But terror is nowhere to be found in the plethora of my current emotions because the truth of it is that I’ve felt safer with Sangrel and more at ease with him than with anyone, ever since he offered me the second cigarette in that bathroom months ago. Maybe it’s always been in my blood to prefer the company of demons over people.

He takes one more step.

And I finally see him.

He is massive. Much taller than Silas’s six-foot-four and broader in the shoulders. His whole body seems designed in a way that’s meant to incite fear. Human-shaped, lean and sculpted, his smoke-shrouded form radiates with unnatural strength. There’s a stone-grey quality to his skin, but with burning undertones that are making me think of lava rushing underneath the Earth’s crust.

His face looks ... like the face of a handsome man who’s never felt a single benevolent emotion in his life. No smile lines, no wrinkles of compassion. Just dark, cruel eyes like bottomless pits, a chiselled jaw and a merciless line of a mouth.

He takes off his robe, letting it fall to the ground, but he keeps his trousers on.

“Eyes on the mirror, baby,” he reminds me, his voice soft and harsh at the same time. “That’s a good girl.”

As he leans over me, the scorching heat of his body envelopes me. It’s like being close to a fireplace on a cold night.

“You can feel me now, can’t you, my dark darling?” He hooks one of his fingers underneath the lace of my thong, and the talon-like nail slices through the fabric like butter. The garment falls apart into shreds.

“Y-yes,” I confirm.

“The mirror is a portal,” he reminds me. “A gateway between this world and the Underworld. Realities fuse in its proximity. If you keep your eyes on the reflection, if you focus not on what is here, but on what’s on the other side, you’ll be able to feel everything. Let me show you.”

Wedging his bestial hands between my knees, he parts my legs wide and hunches forward. He opens his mouth, and I gasp when his tongue slithers forward, long and serpent-like. It’s forked down half its length, which he demonstrates by separating its sharp tips wilfully and pressing one half, coiled into a graceful ‘S’, against my clit while sliding the other half, rough and hot, into my pussy until it’s aligned with my G-spot.

I gasp.

And then a scream tears from deep within my throat when I discover that not only does his tongue resemble a snake’s, but it flickers like one, and currently it’s teasing the most sensitive spots of my body with rapid bursts of vibrations.