Touch of the Demon

Mzatal tangled a hand in my hair, pulled my head back to nuzzle my neck as he murmured something in demon. The meaning of it wound through me as he began to thrust with greater urgency. I have missed you. And I did not know anything was missing.

Yeah, I had what he was missing. And he sure as hell had what I wanted. Yet even as I thought it, I knew there was so much more to it than this moment of physical pleasure, and that knowledge spiked it all even higher. I made a low guttural noise as I wrapped my hands hard in his hair. His breath hissed as I pulled, and he thrust harder, which was pretty much the reaction I was hoping for. “Yes,” I gasped. “More.”

He was happy to oblige, grip uncompromising as he drove into me, deep cries accompanying each thrust. The scent and sound of him wound through my senses, and the feel of his skin was like a thousand points of familiar pressure. A coil of heat writhed in my belly, fired by the combined potency and his ardent attention.

He spoke in demon again as he shuddered against me, driving deep. Come home to me, beloved. Come home.

“Fuck…oh, hell yeah,” I gasped. Not as poetic, but it got the point across. It only took another few seconds before I tightened my legs spasmodically, crying out as I clenched around him. Waves of shuddering pleasure expanded into limitless space, rebounding and shaking me again and again. A deep cry ripped from his throat as I climaxed, and in three more thrusts he released as well, throbbing deep within me as we mingled, merged and complete.

My breath came in uneven gasps as he slowed. My hands clenched and unclenched in his hair. I pulled him close, then nuzzled the crook of his neck as our combined potency thrummed between and through us.

Still within me, he shifted his grasp, slid his hands up my back to hold me close.

“Zharkat,” he murmured as he nuzzled my neck. A nameless thrill went through me. Beloved.

Straightening, Mzatal lifted me from the edge of the dresser, then held me firm in his arms, keeping me deliciously impaled upon him as he moved to the bed. I kept my legs tight around him as he lowered me to the soft quilt. He looked down at me with a smile that lit his entire face and kissed my forehead, eyes and cheeks, before lowering his head to nuzzle my neck. Already he was hard within me again, and I made a pleased sound in the back of my throat as I arched into him. There was a lot to like about the stamina and quick recovery time of demonic lords, and Mzatal had no problem demonstrating exactly how easily he could bring me right back up to the peak. His hands and mouth and cock worked me into a gasping frenzy that had me begging for yet another release. With merged potencies and deep passion, we carried each other to new realms. In the end, we collapsed together in a glorious tangle of limbs and hair, spent and shuddering and smiling.

At long last I caught my breath and regained the ability to speak. I gri

Mzatal laughed, stroked fingers down my cheek. “I am forever dubbed thus.”

“Yep, you’re stuck with it!” I said, then gave a languid sigh as my body hummed delightfully with pleasure and potency.

He shifted and swept all his hair over his shoulder. I eagerly reached out to slide my fingers through the silky mass. “There is time yet for sleep,” he murmured with a smile, skimming a hand over my breasts and down my belly.

My loins tightened at his touch. I could get used to this merged-potency-multiple-orgasm-thing. “I’m not sleepy at all,” I said with a sly grin.

He raised an eyebrow, then his face mirrored mine in a smile. “Wrap your hands in my hair again, and I will do…bad things…to you.”

I gathered a handful of hair, tugged. “How bad are we talking?” I asked. I tugged again, harder.

He closed his eyes briefly, muttered a sentence in demon that meant something along the lines of holy fucking shit it feels good when you do that. His reaction sent my pulse racing and heat rushing to my naughty bits.

“Bad,” Mzatal murmured. “Very very bad.” He shifted between my legs and pushed my thighs apart, lowered his head to me. I groaned and wound my hands in his hair, kept my grip firm as he did bad things that made me cry out and scream and clench in very good ways. Once I recovered, I proceeded to do bad things to him, which he seemed to find just as good.

Eventually we lay limp against each other, spent and sated. He wrapped his arms around me, held me close until our breathing slowed, then turned me to my right side and shifted to lie behind me. He dropped his left arm over me, reminiscent of how he held me during the confrontation with Rhyzkahl, pulled me back against him and snuggled his head over mine. “Zharkat,” he murmured.

I smiled, content. “Boss.”

He laughed—a free, beautiful sound—and held me close as we both slipped into sleep.

Chapter 41

I opened my eyes to sunlight and the distant song of unknown creatures greeting the morning. Above me the stars of the domed ceiling still twinkled. Languor and deep peace drifted through me, and I smiled as I felt an arm draped across my hips and a black curtain of hair spread over my breasts.

He stayed, I thought in delighted wonder. He stayed and slept with me. I shifted very carefully to face him. Mzatal had dozed in the chair less than a week ago, so I knew he’d chosen to sleep with me. Rhyzkahl had never made that choice, even when I asked him to. As I looked upon the sleeping lord, I realized I’d never doubted that he would.

And he was, indeed, asleep. I reached and stroked his hair back from his face, wanting to see how he looked in repose.

Beautiful. He breathed deeply and evenly, face relaxed and carrying none of the controlled mask that he usually wore, whether smiling-controlled, or scary-mofo-controlled. For the first time I felt as if I had a glimpse of the true Mzatal, and I reveled in it.

I coiled a lock of hair around my finger while I reflected on, well, everything. I cared for Mzatal quite deeply, yet I knew this wasn’t any sort of “romantic” love. It was far more than that. I didn’t have words to explain it, and didn’t feel any need to do so. It just was. Even if we never slept together again, we’d always have this amazing shared closeness.

A smile twitched across my mouth. Though it wouldn’t be at all bad to do it again. Maybe some post-ritual celebration?

Mzatal drew a deep breath and stirred, a smile playing on his lips as he muttered something. I stroked his hair, and a moment later he stirred again, opened his eyes and looked into mine. He lifted his hand and set it against my cheek.

“Zharkat.”

I smiled. “Hi.”

His hand slipped to the back of my neck, and he brought me close for a kiss that did a lovely job of waking me up fully. He pulled back, smiling a smile that reached all the way to his eyes and shone out. “There are no words adequate,” he murmured.

I let a lock of his hair slide through my fingers. “I’m not even going to try,” I said with a chuckle. “And today we retrieve the blade.”

Mzatal slid his hand over my shoulder and down to my hip. “Yes, we do,” he said, still smiling. “And with Vsuhl, forestall much.”

“We will kick all the ass,” I said, deeply enjoying how at ease I felt with him.

Laughing, he wrapped me in his arms and rolled, pulling me atop him. “Is that what we will do, zharkat?” he asked. “Kick all the ass?”

I gri