Damn Me: A Paranormal Demon Romance (The Demonology Series Book 4) Read online

  “Of course.” He sounded almost gleeful. “I know all about you, Cathy, but it is time for reciprocity. It is time you learned about me as well.”

  Blowing out a deep breath, I tried to climb to my feet, but it was impossible, each movement making me heady and weak.

  “Then tell me.” I glanced away from his outstretched palm, knowing precisely what it represented. Like the apple in Eden, that hand would lead me straight into temptation, and until I had a handle on myself—until I’d garnered my strength—I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t let that happen. “Tell me who you are.”

  “First, take my hand, little mortal.”

  I closed my eyes, trying to catch my breath, but it seemed as though the shadows around me were moving, swirling in some twisted dance, no doubt intended to confuse and unsettle me. Such trickery was always the ploy of the demon, and even one as obviously powerful as this was no exception. He was still only a fiend, and I had to remember that. He had no power unless I gifted him with it.

  He had to be invited in.

  “You are wise, indeed.” The goading sound of his voice washed over me. “Sage and beautiful, Cathy, quite the potent combination.”

  “Leave me.” I leaned over my knee, bracing myself as I struggled to regain my balance. Every time he moved or spoke, the ground around me stirred, making it harder to compose myself. “Just go now and leave me.”

  “Oh, no, Cathy.” He chuckled lightly at the idea. “I do not think so. This is only the beginning for you and me. Now, take my hand, and I will tell you what you want to know.” The fingers near my face pressed closer, willing me to grasp them.

  “Come now,” he taunted. “All you have to do is reach out and take it. No one but the two of us will ever have to know. It will be our little secret.”

  Our secret? Hadn’t Damon promised me something similar when I’d surrendered to the lust he invoked? And how well had that transpired? So well, I’d somehow attracted the attention of this even more potent creature of the night.

  “I can’t.” I shook my head, ignoring the wave of dizziness and nausea that rose at the motion. “I won’t do it.”

  His laughter danced around me.

  “Oh, but you will, Cathy,” he assured me in a smug tone that made me want to slap something. “Why fight me? You know I’ll come after you. You know I’ll break down your resistance.”

  “You’ll damn me!” I spat the words up at his looming form, wishing he’d just step into the half-light and permit me to see his face, yet at the same time, relieved to be free of the burden. “You’ll send me half to Hell, and I won’t fall for it, fiend. I won’t give you the satisfaction.”

  “You are strong.” There was sincerity in his tone. “Stronger perhaps than even I had foreseen, but rest assured, I will win.”

  He lowered from the gloom overhead, and all at once, the view I’d yearned for loomed in front of me, paralyzing my limbs and robbing me of breath. He was dark, darker than Damon, with a deep, brooding gaze, which promised filth and oblivion, set above high cheekbones and soft, tantalizing lips. He was as sexy as hell, the epitome of every sinful desire I’d ever conjured in my lustful daydreams.

  “Ah, you like what you see.” His lips curled at my appraisal. “Well, of course, you do. You are only human, after all. Born to yield.”

  “I don’t yield.” I forced the words out, fighting back against my every instinct that told me to submit and let him overawe me.

  It would have been so easy.

  So easy to roll over and let him take me.

  So easy to surrender and feel the warmth of his lips on my neck.

  Too easy, but I refused to give in.

  I was a Bateman, bred from a line of strong women, none of who yielded to beasts like this one. Whoever he was, he was only a creature of Hell, and I knew how to manage those. I knew how to overcome them—expel them and cast them back to the pit they’d manifested from. I’d achieved it many times before, and I should have done it with Damon. However alluring this new pretender was, I wouldn’t be stupid enough to make that mistake again.

  “Pretender?” He laughed, revealing a line of perfect white teeth. “Is that what I am?”

  “You know what you are, fiend. You’re a creature of the dark realm—nothing more and nothing less—and I will send you back there soon enough.”

  “Will you?” He chuckled, shaking his head with amusement. “Well, I look forward to that, but in the meantime, I am going to make you my offer again.” His left palm rose once more, opening out in front of me. “Take my hand, Cathy. Take my hand and come with me. I shall take you higher than Damon could even imagine. I will take you so high, you will never come down.”

  “No.” I shook my head, squeezing my eyes closed to block out his handsome visage. This was only a dream—it must be—and dreams could be undone if I fought hard enough. With enough effort, I could rouse myself. I could leave his dark temptation behind.

  “Stop resisting.”

  Even as I traveled through the layers of my consciousness, I could still hear the enticing purr of his voice. There seemed to be no way to escape it.

  “Run if you must, but know, I will catch you.” The sound of his laughter encircled me. “I will break you, Cathy Bateman.”

  Chapter Two

  Satan

  Earth again. Finally, in human guise, I stretched out the long, lithe limbs, staring at the tanned flesh of my right hand—my right hand—but the whole thing was ludicrous. I did not have a right hand. I did not have hands at all. I had enormous, clawed paws—the paws of a predator. Mitts which mauled and molested, yet there I was, tall, dark and brooding—every inch the prince charming mortals yearned for—and I had to say, despite my initial reticence to take this form, I liked what I saw. I had caught my reflection in the glass of a shop window and had seen the dazzling teeth filling my mouth and the dark hair that fell into my mesmerizing eyes. I was stunning, but then, I was Satan.

  What else would I be?

  Surely, the prince of all darkness would be the ultimate physical temptation? Certain to seduce, just as I had succeeded in every task I had put my mind to since I was cast out of the heavens. Naturally, the opposition would have you think differently. They would suggest failure in each endeavor, that I had clambered in the shadows, searching for meaning since ostracization, that I had led the lost and lonely, but they would be wrong. I had taken to the role like the proverbial duck to water. I had gathered my demon brothers and sisters and set to work, and there was much work to be done. For every soul rejected by the righteous’ judgment, we provided a home. For every sinner deemed unworthy, we became a haven, and the world was full of sinners. Mortals who succumbed to every immorality possible, those who drowned in avarice and gluttony, those who killed and abused—they were all bound for my brethren.

  There could be no Heaven without Hell.

  No good without evil.

  The whole was not complete without me, and whether the monolithic creature in the sky liked it, he needed me. The world needed me, but none needed me as badly as the mortals. It was such a joy to be among them again, to walk in their shoes. They had always been sinners, and in my absence from their realm, they had not let me down. I reveled in their presence, in their sweet scent that filled my senses, and it was there—just as it always had been, that aroma—the smell of greed and envy, swelling pride, and consuming anger. It was present on every street corner, in every sophisticated restaurant. The boardrooms reeked of it, as did the courtrooms. In every spectrum of human life, sin prevailed, simmering like an undercurrent of energy that could not be repressed. For to be human was to err.

  Where there were mortals, there were mistakes. Exquisite, excruciating errors that would find some of their owners in my possession before too long.

  I smiled at the thought, tilting my palm in the sunshine and watching the way the light reflected from the flesh. The world was so full of light and promise.

  What tantalizing promise it held.
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br />   “Can I get you anything, Sir?”

  I glanced up to the face of the pretty little server, who had wandered straight to my table. She had only just come on shift at the café, yet here she was, eager to please, sensing there was something about me—something attractive beyond the flawless aesthetic I had manifested.

  Something compelling.

  “Yes.” I flashed her a devastating smile, pleased with the way her heart rate increased. “A stiff drink, please.”

  Her lips curled as fresh pools of heat bloomed in her cheeks.

  “What would Sir like?” she inquired politely, and boy, how she was trying to remember her training as she gazed into my enthralling eyes, struggling to compose herself. “Our bar has a full selection.”

  “What would you recommend?” I arched an eyebrow as I batted the question back to her, noticing how her pulse sped up even more as my gaze speared her. Large brown eyes dilated, her focus lowering as she flustered.

  “Would Sir like smooth or dirty?”

  My lips twitched. The tiny little human in the short black skirt was flirting with me—trying to tempt the devil with those fluttering dark lashes—and if she wasn’t careful, she might just get what she wanted. My gaze may not be the only thing spearing her tonight. It had been many long years since I had fornicated in this guise, and I was eager to do it again.

  “How about both?” I teased, chuckling at the way she panted. “Hard, smooth, dirty, and wicked—do you have anything that fits the bill, Cassie?”

  Her lips parted as her attention flitted to her uniform. She had not fastened her name tag to the frilly white blouse yet, so how on earth had I known her name? The question was reflected in her bewildered eyes.

  “I-I’m sure I can find something you’ll like, Sir.” Cassie lifted her head, fighting to maintain her crumbling professionalism. “Perhaps an aged bourbon?”

  “Try Irish whiskey.” I employed my most purring tone, watching as the resonance washed over her. “Send me a large glass of your finest Irish.”

  Her eyes fluttered at the demand. “On the rocks, Sir?”

  I straightened, taking in the long legs, which shifted awkwardly as they awaited my verdict.

  “Yes, I think so,” I coaxed. “I like it on the rocks. How about you?”

  She caught her lower lip between her teeth. “Erm, yes,” she mumbled while her cheeks burned. “Yes, I do.”

  Leaning forward, I willed her body toward me, grinning as she inched in my direction, her face lowering to meet mine.

  “Then it seems we have much in common, Cassie.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  I tilted my head at her breathy response. Cassie was definitely the sort of distraction I could get lost in for the evening. I liked the way she responded, her burgeoning arousal clear as she shifted, one foot to the next.

  “I look forward to it, then.”

  “Sir?”

  “The whiskey?”

  My lips curled at the intensity in her gaze, and the way she’d been so drawn toward my fire, she had temporarily forgotten where she was or what she was there to do. Perturbed by the sudden intimacy between us, she righted herself, puzzlement flickering in her gaze before she quickly glanced behind her to see if anyone had noticed.

  “I’ll get it for you right away, Mr…” She paused, evidently waiting for me to drop my name into the mix.

  “Sir will do just fine,” I assured her with another ruthless smile, which broke into a dark snigger as she stumbled back and scampered toward the bar to comply.

  Yes, I had missed this!

  Mortals were endless fun with their heartache and insecurities. They always needed solace and support, and I was always happy to give it to them—in return for what I wanted, of course. I could burn as hot as the brightest blaze in the heat of the night, but in the morning, I would be as cold as a stone. I would offer them everything they ever wanted and make them stagger for a lifetime as they chased it.

  Mortals were the greatest sport of all, but I should not let that entertainment cloud my reasoning. I must not lose sight of the real cause for my vacation—the enigmatic Miss Bateman. I had studied her, of course, watching her the way any hunter would analyze their prey, and I could see the appeal Damon spoke of. Petite and toned she may be, but she was exponentially more than that. Her blue eyes glistened with more than just youth, conveying the extent of the power her maternal bloodline had passed down. They revealed the threat she could be if I allowed that force to fester and grow. Miss Bateman had to be dealt with, and I was the demon to do it.

  I began in the age-old way, visiting her at night and watching her weak and defenseless body sprawled between the thin covers. She had motion detectors set up around the house, but those were of no concern to me—a demonic as ancient and commanding as I had no problems dodging their detection. I had spent many captivating hours in her presence, watching her as she slept. By the third night, content with what I saw, it was time to begin infestation, and I started in the timeless way—in her dreams.

  Unlike most mortals who did not believe, Cathy was well aware of demons. She knew of us, thought she knew how to manage us, and foolishly, that meant she rarely feared us. The average human had no idea of the danger that encircled them, but Cathy was not average. She was special and had powers of her own. There were really only two ways to engage a woman like that. Play the long game, climbing inside her head until all she thought about was me—my startling handsome face and the soothing tone of my voice—all the riches and pleasure she sought. Or alternatively, I could use brute force and obliterate her.

  I was more than capable of the second, but there was no doubt, the first was much more fun, and after all this time, I wanted a little exuberance of my own. Recently, it seemed many of my kin had enjoyed their share. Solomon had his mortal Tara, and Beelzebub’s progeny, Raif, seemed to have found something special in the embrace of another mortal. Envy had never been one of my guilty pleasures, but I had to be honest, I coveted some of that attention for myself—the adoration in a mortal’s eyes, the hot blushes as they succumbed to my will, and the wet, writhing mess when they finally ceded.

  That was what I had in mind for Cathy.

  I would eradicate the menace she posed, but I would also revel in the process. A demon such as I could capture, claim, and possess seamlessly. I did not expect much in the way of resistance, but Cathy surprised me when I infiltrated her dreams that first night. Rather than surrender to the emotional surge I incited, she struggled, pushing away and defying my requests. I had seen the desire in her eyes when she had looked upon me and sensed the hot anticipation of my touch, yet still, she fought, refusing to take my hand.

  Refusing the tempting bait, I offered.

  I leaned back in the chair while I considered the quandary, glancing around the plaza. It was early evening, and the people of the town were just coming out to play. High heels and expensive attire darted around the surrounding tables, gazes lingering in my direction as the mortals registered the fascinating spectacle I represented. Smiling, my attention swept back to the bar and Cassie’s wiggling ass as she turned to shimmy back in my direction.

  It did not matter that Cathy resisted. Actually, I quite liked it.

  She was not going to be as easy as Cassie and the other frivolous mortals I encountered. She was more—stronger, bolder, and feistier. Cathy was going to be a challenge, and if there was one thing I craved, it was the irresistible urge to have that which should be denied to me.

  Because nothing was denied to me.

  I was Satan, master of the dark realm and king of everything I surveyed. No human would get the better of me—not even a plucky Guardian.

  “Your whiskey, Sir.” Cassie’s raspy tone drew my gaze back to the reality and the smiling redhead panting at my side. “Our oldest and best Irish.”

  Grinning, I waited as she set the glass down, the ice clinking against the vessel as it settled on the table. The aroma of the liquor wafted, hitting me in the face
and widening my lips farther.

  “Can I get you anything else?” She leaned closer, flashing her cleavage in my direction, and impulsively, I willed her top button to open, revealing even more of the delicious breasts hidden beneath the cotton.

  “Yes.” Tilting my head, I met her salacious gaze. “Yes, I think you can.”

  Chapter Three

  Cathy

  If the morning was supposed to be a reprieve, it failed. As the beams of sunlight bounced from between my blinds, it was clear my head was still as dark and heavy as ever. It had been four nights now—four nights where I’d barely rested, four nights where fitful sleep haunted me like a lurking slayer, and four nights where I dreamed the hottest, most potent delusions. At first, it had been Damon who filled my mind, hallucinations of the demon who’d brought me such pleasure swelling until the pressure was frantic, waking me and leaving me breathless. But then Damon had vanished, and in his place was a black vacuum, a nothingness I couldn’t stand. A bleak void that brought me to my knees.

  It was there, on all fours, I’d first sensed the new menace, the lurking presence of a power even greater than Damon’s, the aura of a beast so terrifying, I should have roused in horror. But it wasn’t dread and alarm filling my body at his approach, or at least, it wasn’t only dread and alarm. There had been curiosity and intrigue—who the creature was and what he wanted with me. Had I opened the portal to Hell when I dallied with Damon? Had I inadvertently welcomed any fiend into my life?

  I scowled at the thought, clutching my knees to my chest as I sat on the bed. Surely, that couldn’t be true? I knew better than that, didn’t I? I closed down any open doorway that had been created, and every day, I smudged the property with sage. There was no logical way a nefarious being could have snuck inside, yet I knew the truth—they could, and they had. That was how demons operated. They hid in the shadows. They were the sound of shuffling footsteps on the staircase when you knew no one was there or the tapping at the window when you were alone. They were incessant in their need to oppress, but first, they had to infest, and that’s what this was. These torrid dreams were the first sign of that incursion, and if I wasn’t careful, the authority of this fiend would only grow until he was impossible to ignore.