Prologue
She couldn't hide the slight tremor in her hand as she handed him her favorite coffee mug. The baby blue one she’d made in high school. The chip in the handle was turning a darker shade of yellow.
He didn't drink the scalding hot liquid inside, but simply cupped talon nailed hands around it, as though the warmth bleeding through the ceramic was more of a comfort than the coffee. For all she knew, it was.
"So, let me see if I've got this right" she said as she sat down in the faded recliner across from him. “You are a demon, I am a witch and you want me to 'save the world'. Does that about cover it?"
He chuckled and tapped one long nail against the cup. It made a quiet clicking sound. Like the tap of tree branches on your bedroom window on a stormy night. She shivered and pulled her knees up to her chest.
"I'm not sure I would have put it that bluntly, but, yes. That ties it all up in a neat package though it's not really that simple." He set the cup down on the glass table between them and ran a hand through the silky white hair that was constantly falling to cover the most brilliant blue eyes she had ever seen. The gesture was unconscious, a nervous habit perhaps? She didn't know, but at moments like that, it was hard to remember that he wasn't human.
Until he smiled at her and the gleam of two perfect razor sharp teeth showed from between his blood red lips. That, coupled with the frozen paleness of his skin, would have been enough to make more than a few of the women she knew fall at his feet. And a few of the men she knew as well. Some guys spent tons of money to look like he did naturally.
And some women would have killed to be sitting here in her shoes, faced with his "proposition". She was still trying to decide whether he was real or not. Let alone come to a decision on that.
"I'm not trying to 'con' you into anything. I have simply told you what is happening, and made you an offer to, how can I put it? Tip the scales in our favor. The result would be, that we get to keep doing what we've been doing for 2000 years, and humans can continue to remain as oblivious to us as they have always been."
She started to interrupt him, but he raised one slim hand and stopped her.
"I know there have always been those that were not so. But, those that have seen us and known us over the eons have done so for only two reasons. We allow them to see us, to whatever purpose. Or, they are like you, and carry some of our bloodline. How else do you think Witches come by their powers?" His eyes sparkled with laughter as he watched the realization of what that meant dawn on her.
"You mean I have demon blood in me? How?"
He did chuckle this time. "Well, I would assume you could figure that out at your age. Surely you're not a virgin." He raised one eyebrow and smiled again. The cold brilliance of his eyes was melting with something she didn't dare to comprehend as he swept his gaze over her.
She tried very hard to ignore that sinking feeling that was nowhere near her stomach. Now she thought she could understand how all those Witches in the past had "sold" their souls for his kind. And she was pretty sure that she was scared to death at were this conversation was leading.
She jumped out of her chair like something bit her and walked to the window. The rain trickled against the glass and ran down in tiny rivers. It was just another cold day in hell. She sighed and turned away from the dirty city streets laid out so perfectly under her second story studio apartment window.
She'd come to the Big City to be an artist. All she’d found was dirt and more dirt, and the sour smell of the masses of humanity that she served coffee to at the diner down the street. Dirt and stench she had back in Arkansas, Los Angeles was no different. It was just that the pigs were bigger here, and meaner.
"So what would I have to do?" she caught the twinkle in his eyes as he started to open that gorgeous mouth again. She held up her hand. "I mean besides that. What are the rules of this little game you're playing? What are the consequences if I were to turn you down? And don't give me the cryptic 'save the world' crap again. I want the honest to Gods truth."
He looked at her like she'd said something funny and rose to stand in front of her on the faded Indian rug. At nearly seven feet tall, he towered over her five feet ten inches. She tipped her head back to stare up into his eyes. That was a big mistake. Too late she remembered the power behind those eyes. A bright blue flame flared to life deep in their depths.
"It's quite simple, and yet not. Should you choose to help us, then the Game will continue for another 2000 years. If you decline, then they will have won the terms of the Game, and the world and everything on it will be wiped clean. Again, and made new, in another round.
We do not wish that to happen. We like this world as it is. It’s a perfect playground for us. And we do not wish to see it made over again. What is it you humans say? The third times the charm?" He reached out and curled her hair around his finger. "Would it be so very unpleasant for you?" He let the blond strands fall and brushed her cheek with the tip of one long finger.
She shivered and took a step back. No, no it wouldn't. And there in lay the danger. And she wasn't about to admit it to him either.
"If I agreed, and I'm not saying I am." She put up her hands to stop his forward momentum. He collided with her spread palms and it was like a shock. She pressed hard and he stepped back. The look on his face like a wounded animal. She couldn't believe she'd hurt him physically, so it had to be emotionally. I hurt his feelings by pushing him away? Unbelievable! She rolled her eyes and turned back to the window. "What would happen up there?" she pointed at the ceiling, figuratively aiming at the ether.
"They would admit defeat, I would hope gracefully, and allow those who wish it, to go home." Something crossed his face and was chased away by stone so fast she wasn't sure she'd seen it.
"Would you? Go 'home’? “She wasn't sure why, but he was beginning to get to her. And that was more dangerous than she was pretty sure he could be with the teeth he flashed at her now.
"No." He ran his hand through his hair again, not that it did any good. It just fell forward in a silk wave as he looked down at her. She resisted the urge to tuck it behind his ear, barely. "There is nothing for me there."
It was his turn to turn away. His shoulders hunched in defeat, or sorrow. He really was adorable.
Oh, god. She gave herself a mental smack on the forehead and went to take the cups back to the small kitchen tucked in the corner of the one room. She set them on the half wall/countertop that jutted out to separate one “room” from the other.
Please tell me I did not just call a demon adorable! What the hell is wrong with me?
She turned back to see him once again sitting on the threadbare old couch. He really did look so vulnerable sometimes. It was hard to believe that he could just have easily turned her to ashes with a thought. Instead she was actually contemplating his offer. I must be crazy.
"OK. So, all I have to do is sleep with you, get pregnant, and have a half demon, half witchling child. The child grows up and saves the world from the Wrath of God. Game over, you win, and the world keeps turning. Why do I get the feeling there is something you're not telling me?" She sat down next to him and took the risk of looking him in the eye.
His eyes held something close to hope, or maybe triumph, or desire, or all of the above. She couldn't tell. Emotions played across his face so fast, like a river under a thin crust of ice. It looked solid, but underneath the current was just swirling and waiting to pull you under.
"Why you?"
"What do you mean?" He tapped his nails on his thigh. The tight black denim making a faint rasping sound as he dragged his nails across it.
"I mean why you? Why, out of all the demons in hell, it's you and not some other?"
"Ahhh," he took her hand and idly stroked her wrist. It was meant to comfort her. But comfort was the last thing it did. "That is a simple answer, because I volunteered."
He watched her for a moment, gaging her reaction. It must have satisfied him, because he shrugged and leaned back still holding her hand in his paler one.
"At the risk of sounding like a broken record, why?" she didn't know which was worse. What she was afraid he was about to tell her, or the constant rhythm of his thumb against her wrist.
"Because, my dear one, you are already mine. Blood of my blood, flesh of my flesh." His eyes dropped at least seven shades, to the color of twilight. "And there was no way any of the others was going to lay a hand on you."
"You mean it's your demon blood that runs in my veins?" Surprised would have been an understatement of Mt St. Helenian proportions.
She jerked her hand away from his and pressed back against the corner of the couch. “I can't sleep with you!"
"I don't see why not." He shrugged again making his hair slide in a crystal wave across his shoulder. "By my count that was some 30 generations back. It's not like I am your father." The wicked amusement in his velvet and honey voice was just too much.
He reached for her hand again, dragging her across the couch to lie against him. "I am not going to take no for an answer Anna. You are mine. You have been mine since before you were born. There can be no more arguing the point. And there is no other answer for you but yes!"
With that his mouth came down on hers before she could speak. Taking the breath she had been about to use to tell him to go back to Hell.
Fire sang through every part of her as he tightened his grip on her wrist. His other hand now rested firmly against the back of her head. Her thick blond hair tangled around his talon sharp nails.
There was no denying what his mouth was doing to hers or the fact that she didn't want him to stop. But that small voice of reason in her head was trying desperately to get her attention. She could not go through with this!
She struggled to push him away, only succeeding in getting her left hand trapped between them as he slid his hand down her spine and pressed her closer. There was no denying where this was going as she felt him harden against her stomach.
Despite her best efforts to the contrary, she felt her body giving in. Her legs took on a life of their own as they started to slide to fit him between them. Her loose cotton shorts doing nothing to hide the heat rising from his body to hers and back again.
He released her mouth long enough to slide with her to the faded rug. She took the opportunity to push herself away from him in a half scoot, half crab walk and held her hand out in front of her in self-defense like she really expected that to work.
His eyes turned black as midnight and there was a stirring in the air. She could almost see the glittering sparks around his aura as he came to his knees in front of the couch. "Do not fight me Anna Marina Duvall. Make no mistake. You are mine. And you will do this for me."
He held out his hand, the steel clad in velvet sound of his voice compelling her with more force than any human weapon could. Against her will she felt herself leaning forward the tips of her fingers just brushing his. He lunged forward and pulled her hard against his chest. They fell back against the couch once more. This time she had nowhere to run as he ran his hands down her back and across her thighs to force her to straddle his lap.
His right hand continued to stroke her thigh while he tipped her chin back with his left. There was sorrow mixed with desire and a glimmer of what felt like genuine affection in the depths of his ice blue eyes. It seemed as though the show of power had taken a toll. He seemed closer to human now. Gone were the razor sharp nails and teeth. He still cast a deep shadow though. And she swore she could see the faint outline of wings against the rain washed window behind them.
"Anna please, I don't want to fight with you. And I don't want to force you either. I want you to come to me of your own free will, simply because you want to." His thumb slid gently back and forth across her jaw. She wanted to tip her head back so he could continue the caress openly.
Oh god! What was happening to her? No man had ever made her feel like this. He had to be casting some kind of spell on her. That rational part of her brain was trying desperately to justify her response to his touch. But it wasn't getting very far. It kept short circuiting every time his hand neared the edge of her shorts. Her whole body was screaming for him to push them aside and touch her in ways she'd never dreamed of before.
His hand tangled in her hair and he pushed / pulled her closer until her mouth was less than a breath away from his. "It doesn't have to be like this." He whispered against her lips. "I can give you the kind of pleasure most women never even dream of.
Somehow she didn't doubt it. Her last sane thought was that she hoped the child would grow up to be stronger than she was. Strong enough to change the rules in the eternal game of Light and Dark.
******
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