Touch of the Demon (56 page)

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 grinned over at him where he lay propped up on one elbow beside me. “Thanks, Boss.”

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.

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 grinned, utterly delighted at the sound of his laugh. “Damn straight. We are badass, and all should fear us.” I lowered my head and nestled it into the crook of his neck. Despite my brave words there was a hell of a lot to be nervous about. And I was. I exhaled softly. “I could stay like this all day.”

Mzatal wrapped his arms around me. “And I as well,” he said. “Were it any other day, I would not leave these chambers.”

I shifted to nuzzle his neck. “After this is done, we must research how to conduct rituals from bed.”

He laughed. “What do you think I have been contemplating this morning?”

“You do know I sometimes set things on fire?”

“I have faith that your skills have improved since that incident,” he replied, giving me a squeeze.

Grinning, I sat up, still straddling him as I sketched a
quick series of sigils, surprising myself with how easily and fluidly I could do so. “This could totally work!” I laughed and wiggled upon him, then dispelled the series.

I felt him harden—more of that demonic lord quick recovery and response at work. His hands went to my hips, and then he lifted me with ridiculous ease and slid within me. I let out a low groan and began to move against him.

“Trace again,” he said, smiling in enigmatic innocence.

I chuckled low in my throat, then did so while he did his utmost to break my concentration. After that he found new and interesting ways to distract me as I traced the next series, and the next. At long last I found myself—somehow—upon the table in the main room, the final series of the upcoming ritual drifting in luminescent perfection above me, and my body humming with languid pleasure.

“I think I know the series pretty well now,” I said, grinning up at him.

Mzatal leaned down and kissed me. “You have mastered it, indeed.”

“Please tell me you don’t train Idris like this?” I asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.

He laughed, shook his head. “No, you have a unique advantage.” He pushed off me, then picked me up and carried me toward the bath chamber. “And now it is time to prepare, that you may kick all the ass in the coming ritual.”

After a bath that we somehow managed to finish without any more distractions, it was time to dress and get ready for departure.

My usual style of clothing for ritual fell into the comfortable, casual, easy-to-move-in category. Today’s wasn’t going to be much different, though I stayed away from anything silky and flowy. I wanted to be able to run and move and all that good stuff, but I also wanted to wear something durable enough that it wouldn’t get ripped right off me in a fight. That would probably be a
little
distracting.

But since I had the style sense of a near-sighted hamster, I’d decided to throw caution to the wind and leave my wardrobe up to the zrila.

And wow, did they ever rise to the challenge: comfortable knee-high boots, black pants made out of durable denim-like material but a lot softer and a lot more flexible,
and a really cool sleeveless wrap shirt with a black sash to belt it all in at the waist.

I preened in front of the mirror. “I look like a badass,” I announced.

Mzatal had the grace not to laugh at my posturing. “You are indeed glorious.”

I flashed him a grin. “A glorious badass.” Turning away from the mirror, I took a settling breath. “I guess I’m ready to go,” I said.

He took my hand. “The others await.”

My nerves rose again. I had the brief impulse to pounce on Mzatal and enjoy some stress relief, but I knew that was simply a delaying tactic. Okay, it would definitely relieve some stress, but I’d still have to go and do this thing no matter what.

He slid me a look as we walked, a hint of a smile twitching his mouth. “It would be a shame to dishevel the braiding Faruk made in your hair,” he murmured, telling me clearly that he’d read my impulse. His own hair was once again perfectly contained in a complex braid, its utter blackness beautiful against the grey and silver brocade of his tunic coat.

“I bet you could find a way to do it without messing up my hair,” I said slyly.

His hand briefly tightened on mine. “If I were to take you now,” he said, “your hair and clothing
would
be quite disheveled.”

I laughed. “Tease.” But even the simple banter was enough to quell my nerves. Well, somewhat. This was still a huge thing we were about to do. And neither of us had any doubt that Rhyzkahl would make an appearance.

Our footsteps on the stone path seemed loud in the still morning air as we headed to the grove’s tree tunnel. The others were there waiting—Idris, Safar, Ilana, a big reyza I didn’t know, as well as two zhurn and two kehza I also didn’t know. Gestamar was still recovering, his absence palpable. Everyone was so damn quiet that I had the brief urge to shout, “Let’s do this thing!” but I decided it wasn’t the right moment. Still, I smiled at the thought.

Mzatal paced beside me, contemplative. “If you remain open to me during the ritual, it will be helpful,” he said. “After last night, I am certain there is much we can accomplish together that we cannot alone.”

I smiled. “I know we can.”

Idris glanced up from his papers as we approached. His eyes flicked to our joined hands and then back up to my face. He gave me a nervous smile, one that I knew would vanish as soon as he was involved in the patterning.

“Hey, Kara,” he said. “Big day.”

I exhaled. “Yeah, not sure I’ll ever be able to top this.”

Puzzled, he furrowed his brow as he looked from me to Mzatal, then back to me, expression deepening into a frown.

“Yes, you will need to make adjustments,” Mzatal told Idris. “The shift is likely permanent.”

Idris cleared his throat and nodded, perplexity seeming to deepen.

Mzatal and I entered the tree tunnel, and the others fell in a few paces behind us.

“What was that all about?” I asked.

Mzatal smiled and squeezed my hand. “You and I are…different, and he must make adjustments in the ritual and support parameters.”

A slow smile spread across my face as I explored the connection and merging of the two powers. Our energy signatures had changed, as if we’d exchanged a portion of our auras, bringing us into a beautiful flow of connection. “Yeah.” I grinned. “We’re better, stronger, faster.”

“With all going as planned,” Mzatal said, “we will bring a measure of stability that is sorely needed.”

“Nothing ever goes as planned,” I said with a grimace. I’d been on enough search warrants and other operations to know that all too well. “What’s our worst-case scenario, Boss? Rhyzkahl, right? Are we ready for that?”

“Worst-case scenario would be Rhyzkahl intervening and our failure to recover the blade,” Mzatal said, but then he shook his head. “No. Worse would be if he captured the blade once we had it.” He gave me a look filled with confidence and reassurance. “I am prepared for Rhyzkahl this time, and we are together.”