Page 20 of Dark Desire (Dark Souls Spin-off Short Story)

Why seek the help of a demon? Well, I was pretty sure that the man I had trapped inside a raven was a demon himself.

After that night, I did as much research as I could but found very little online.

I searched every library in Edinburgh for horned men with black vines covering their bodies, black clawed hands, razor-sharp fangs, and large feathered wings.

That was all I remembered of the creature those witches were trying to burn alive.

And his harrowing roars of pain. The only thing that even mildly resembled him from human libraries was the tales of demons.

I’d never encountered a demon before that night, and I haven’t since.

But I was convinced I had cursed one to save its life.

Giving up for the night, I packed up my candles, crystals and spell book in my bag and headed back inside the church, casting a few extra protection wards around it as my previous ones were fading.

Once I was happy I’d secured my safety for the night, I entered through the chapel door and locked it behind me.

Dumping my bag on the stone floor, I shrugged off my coat and hung it up before making my way upstairs to my room.

It was already well past midnight and I was feeling the exhaustion of the last few days seeping in.

As much as a small, fucked up part of me was excited by the prospect of a late-night visitor to come and make me his good girl before potentially murdering my slutty ass, tonight I needed a good night's sleep.

After a quick shower, I treated my cuts and wrapped my hands in bandages before throwing on an old, oversized T-shirt and climbing into bed with a blissful groan.

There was nothing like the comfort of your own bed.

Today, I cast a few protection wards on Evie’s house, in case the psycho returned.

At least I could sleep peacefully knowing she’d be safe.

I turned onto my side and looked at the screen of my open laptop on the bedside table.

It’s the best photograph I’ve ever taken, without doubt.

Though I suspect it’s more about the model than my talent.

Zachary. The name doesn’t suit him. He’s otherworldly.

A mountain in a desert. A storm carved into flesh.

Too big, too ethereal to belong in this world, yet I felt this indescribable gravity sucking me to him.

As if he were the tide and I was the sand, yearning for his touch and chasing after him when he pulled away.

I had to know this man. Too bad I was faced with a major cockblock in the form of Beryl Dorestone.

Slamming my laptop shut, I closed my eyes, willing sleep to come as I wondered what colour his eyes were or how his voice might sound.

I imagined the green eyes of my hot assassin and the deep timbre of his ancient voice on the delicious human Zachary and felt desire burning between my legs.

I squirmed, pressing my thighs together as I bit into my bottom lip, replaying the interaction from last night in my head.

But this time, there was no mask. Long cherry-red hair fell forward as green eyes glared down at me.

Dripping wet from the sea and completely naked, he straddled me on the forest floor, his huge hand wrapped around my throat.

Zachary’s lips moved, but the assassin’s seductive voice purred in my mind.

“ Open that filthy fucking mouth for me, witch. ”

My fingers worked their way between my legs as I became lost in the fantasy.

“Getting started without me?”

My eyes snapped open when that intense voice I had just been fantasising about boomed through my room.

I screamed when I saw the towering, black figure cloaked in darkness standing in my bedroom doorway.

The glint of gold on the devil mask caught the reflection of the moonlight, but the dark clothing and shadows concealed everything else about him.

I scurried up my bed, slamming my body against the metal rails of my headboard and tugging the duvet up to my chest. He cocked his head to the side in that menacing, primal way that sent flutters of fear and excitement straight to my core.

There really was something wrong with me.

I shouldn’t find this psycho so appealing.

Lifting my hand, I allowed my magic to emerge and formed a ball of yellow hues gathering in my palm, ready to send it hurtling into his chest if he came any closer.

He chuckled darkly, the same sound he made in the forest when I sent the last ball of magic in his direction. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. All our fun will be over before it even begins.”

I lifted my chin higher and narrowed my eyes. “You and I have different definitions of fun.”

He took one step into my room but paused when I faced my palm towards him.

“I don’t think we do.”

My stomach lurched at the seductive tone of his voice.

The deep, husky sound he drew from the back of his throat.

That was a loaded statement, and I knew he was calling me out on my shit.

He knew he turned me on. As a supernatural being, he could probably sense the rapid beating of my heart and smell the ridiculous amount of arousal between my legs.

But that didn’t mean I was stupid. He could be here to kill me, not seduce me, and I wouldn’t go down without a fight.

Not while I still hadn’t freed the raven.

And then it registered. He was inside the church, in my bedroom. He’d got past my wards. Which meant…he had no intention of killing me tonight.

“Want to tell me what you were thinking about with your fingers between your legs just now, witch?” There was a slight arrogance in his voice, and I could picture him smirking behind that mask.

I swallowed, my arousal driving forward and overpowering my fear.

I closed my hand and dispelled my magic, then ran my eyes over the length of his enormous, muscular body.

He must have been at least six foot six.

His head was slightly bent towards his chest under his hood, just to fit through the door.

I could very easily picture Zachary behind that mask.

Except Zach was obviously human and this man was most definitely not.

“You,” I breathed. A single word. A dare. A truth. An invitation.

He growled. He fucking growled like an animal. My pussy pulsed at the sound and my breathing became erratic.

“And did I say you could touch yourself while thinking of me?” he snarled, pressing a hand to his crotch. Even in the dark, I could see the impressive bulge.

“No,” I replied. “I didn’t know I had to ask permission.”

He clicked his neck, twisting his head to the side and letting me catch a glimpse of his green eyes through the slits as the moonlight cast over them.

“What did I tell you last night?” he asked, taking a few more steps closer. The wooden floorboards groaned under the weight of his large boots, and then he stopped at the foot of my bed. He looked even more intimidating from this angle, glaring down at me.

“You said only good girls get to come.”

I held his gaze as he offered me nothing in return. His silent, brooding death glare made me squirm. Those eyes—hypnotic and beautiful but so fucking cold. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a set of metal handcuffs. My eyes widened.

“Are you going to be a good girl for me?”

I swallowed my fear and ignored the logical voice that told me not to let this man tie me up for obvious reasons, because I really, really wanted it. I wanted whatever he was offering me pleasure-wise. And I really wanted to be his good girl.

Slowly, I nodded. He wasn't here to harm me, which only gave me hope that he was here for more of last night instead.

“Arms up and hands through the bed rails,” he ordered, his masculine voice leaving no room for argument.

I followed his instruction, sliding my body back down the bed until my head was on the pillow and my hands gripped two bed rails.

I felt my T-shirt ride up to my waist under the duvet and my heart flipped when he reached down and grabbed the end of the bedding.

At a deliberately slow speed, he tugged it down my body, exposing my midriff and bare pussy to him until the duvet was on the floor by his feet.

He grunted his approval and I bit my bottom lip between my teeth to stop a moan from escaping.

I gripped the bed rails tighter, fighting the urge to grab my T-shirt and yank it down to cover myself.

Instead, I focused on the only visible part of him.

He stared at my pussy like a starved animal, his green eyes ravenous with hunger.

After what felt like forever, he moved around the bed.

His long strides gave off a confusing display of grace and violence. It was such an odd combination.

My breathing caught in my throat when he stood beside me.

Gradually, he leaned over me, holding my gaze, and I could smell his delicious manly scent.

I wanted to wrap myself in it. Then, the metal clinked against my wrists and I tilted my head to look up.

He’d cuffed my hands through the bars, so I was now tied to the bed and completely helpless.

Stupidly, I knew I'd just made a huge mistake, and when my eyes locked with his again, it was confirmed.

There was a glint of something dark in his eyes that sent a shiver down my spine.

My nipples hardened in response beneath my top.

He straightened and took a few steps back until he reached the leather armchair in the corner of my room.

I watched, confused, as he settled into it and spread his legs.

“What are you doing?” I asked, frowning deeply at the distance he’d put between us. I was feeling increasingly self-conscious as I forced my legs together.

“I’ll be the one asking the questions,” he said with dark intent. I swallowed the fear and panic that was rising. When he wasn’t seducing me, this man was downright terrifying.