The Devils Daughter

Chapter Ten: Answers

His hand moved from my wrist to my hair, fisting in the damp strands. For a moment, I thought he would pull me away, would punish me for my boldness. But instead, he held me there, his grip tight but not painful.

"One answer," he said finally, his voice rough. "After. If you please me."

It was the best I was going to get. I nodded, and then I took him into my mouth.

The taste of him was strange—salt and heat and something else, something not quite human. He was too large, too thick, and I couldn't take more than a few inches before I gagged. But I tried, using my hand on what I couldn't fit, my tongue exploring the length of him.

"f**k," he groaned, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. "Your mouth—"

I looked up at him, meeting his gaze, and saw his control fracturing. The shadows on his skin moved faster, brighter, and his hand in my hair tightened almost painfully.

I didn't know what I was doing, had no experience to guide me, but I let his reactions teach me. When I swirled my tongue around the head of his c**k, he groaned. When I sucked harder, his breathing became ragged. When I took him deeper, fighting my gag reflex, his hand trembled in my hair.

"Elara," he growled, and there was warning in his voice. "If you keep doing that—"

I kept doing it. I wanted him to lose control. Wanted to see the powerful demon reduced to pleasure and need. My jaw ached, my eyes watered, but I didn't stop. I used my mouth and hand together, finding a rhythm, and he grew impossibly harder.

"Stop," he commanded, but his voice was weak. "Stop or I'll—"

I didn't stop. I took him deeper, sucked harder, and his whole body went rigid. His hand fisted brutally in my hair, holding me in place, and then he was coming with a roar that shook the walls.

His seed flooded my mouth, hot and thick, too much to swallow. It spilled from my lips, ran down my chin, and still he kept coming, his c**k pulsing against my tongue.

Finally, he released my hair and stepped back, his c**k slipping from my mouth. I knelt there, gasping, his seed on my lips and chin, and looked up at him.

Those colorless eyes were wild, his chest heaving. He looked at me like he'd never seen me before.

"You," he said, his voice hoarse, "are far more dangerous than I anticipated."

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, my heart pounding. "You promised me an answer."

He stared at me for a long moment, and I saw something like admiration in his expression. Then he reached down and pulled me to my feet, his hand gentle for once.

"One answer," he agreed. "Ask your question, little mortal. You've earned it."

I steadied myself, my legs trembling, my heart racing with more than just the aftermath of what I'd done. This was my chance. One answer. I had to make it count.

"Why are you here?" The words came out breathless but clear. "Not just in my cottage. Why are you in Thornhaven? Why did you appear at the market as Lord Rene? What are you doing here?"

His expression shifted, something dark and almost amused crossing his sharp features. "That's several questions disguised as one."

"It's all the same question," I insisted. "Why. Are. You. Here."

He was silent for a long moment, studying me. Then he reached out and traced his thumb across my lower lip, collecting his seed there. "I was summoned," he said finally. "Called here by ritual and desperation."

My breath caught. "Summoned? By who?"

"The church was in debt," he continued, ignoring my question. "Not the kind of debt you pay with coin. The kind that costs souls. Father Benedict called me, trying to keep it quiet. Trying to handle it before anyone knew what he'd done."

The words hit me like a physical blow. The church. The priest. They'd summoned a demon. Father Benedict had called Valdin here, had made some kind of deal with darkness itself.

"What kind of debt?" I whispered. "What did he—"

"That's all you get." His hand moved from my face to my throat, not squeezing, just holding. A reminder of his power. "One answer, little mortal. I've given it."

"But I don't understand—"

"You don't need to understand." His grip tightened slightly, and my pulse hammered against his palm. "You need to stop asking questions and remember your place."

Before I could protest, he lifted me off my feet and threw me onto the bed. I landed on my back, bouncing slightly, and then he was on me, his massive body covering mine, his weight pressing me into the mattress.

"Valdin, wait—"

"No more waiting." His mouth crashed against mine, brutal and possessive, tasting himself on my lips. "No more questions. No more bargaining. You're mine, and I'm going to remind you of that."

His c**k was already hard again—impossibly, inhumanly hard—and I felt it pressing against my entrance. I was wet despite everything, my body betraying me as always, responding to his dominance even as my mind raced with implications.

The church had summoned him. The church had made a deal with a demon. And somehow, I was part of the payment.

He thrust into me without warning, without preparation, and I screamed at the sudden fullness. He was too big, too much, stretching me almost painfully even though my body was slick and ready for him.

"That's it," he growled against my ear. "Scream for me. Let me hear what I do to you."

He didn't give me time to adjust, didn't show mercy. His hips moved with brutal efficiency, pounding into me with a force that made the bed frame creak and groan. Each thrust drove the breath from my lungs, made stars burst behind my eyes.

But even as my body responded, even as pleasure began to build despite the roughness, my mind wouldn't stop working.

Father Benedict had called him. The priest who was supposed to protect us, who was supposed to represent God's mercy. He'd summoned a demon. Made a deal. And then he'd tried to sacrifice me to fulfill it.

"Stop thinking," Valdin commanded, his hand wrapping around my throat. "I can feel you thinking. Stop."

"I can't—" The words came out strangled as he squeezed.

"You can." He shifted his angle, hitting that spot inside me that made my whole body arch. "You will. There's nothing in your head right now except me. Except this."

He was right. God help me, he was right. The pleasure was building too fast, too intense, drowning out thought. My body knew its master, knew what it needed, and it was surrendering.

"Valdin," I gasped, my hands clutching at his shoulders, feeling the demonic marks writhing under my fingers. "Please—"

"Please what?" His pace increased, becoming almost violent. "Please stop? Please continue? Please f**k you harder?"

"I don't know," I sobbed, and it was true. I didn't know what I wanted anymore. Didn't know if I wanted answers or oblivion, understanding or surrender.

"Then let me decide for you." His free hand moved between us, finding that sensitive bundle of nerves, and he rubbed it roughly in time with his thrusts. "Come for me. Now."

It wasn't a request. It was a command, backed by demonic power and the binding between us. My body obeyed before my mind could protest, pleasure crashing through me in waves so intense I thought I might shatter.

I screamed his name—"Valdin!"—and he groaned in response, his c**k swelling impossibly larger inside me. The hand around my throat tightened, cutting off my air, making the orgasm sharper, brighter, almost painful in its intensity.

"Mine," he growled, and then he was coming, flooding me with his heat. "Mine. Say it."

"Yours," I gasped when he loosened his grip enough for me to breathe. "I'm yours."

He collapsed on top of me, his weight crushing but somehow comforting. His c**k was still inside me, still hard, still claiming me even in the aftermath.

We lay there in silence, both of us breathing hard, and slowly my mind began to work again.

The church had summoned him. Father Benedict had called a demon to Thornhaven, had made some kind of deal to pay off a debt. A debt that wasn't measured in coin but in souls.

And I had been offered as payment.

But Valdin had made a different bargain with me. Had taken my body instead of my soul. Had given me gold, had protected me in his own twisted way, had kept me alive when the original deal would have killed me.

Why?

The question burned in my chest, but I didn't dare ask it. Not now. Not when he'd just reminded me so thoroughly of my place.

Valdin shifted, rolling off me but pulling me against his side. His hand moved through my hair, almost gentle, and his lips pressed against my temple.

"The church made a deal with darkness," he said quietly, surprising me. "And darkness always collects its debts. Remember that, little mortal. Remember that the monsters you fear aren't always the ones with horns."

Then he was gone, dissolving into shadow, leaving me alone in my bed with his seed leaking between my thighs and a terrible new understanding settling in my chest.

The real monster in Thornhaven wore priest's robes and spoke of God's mercy.

And I had no idea what debt he'd promised to pay, or how many souls it would cost before the darkness was satisfied.