Page 3 of Demon Seed (Mated to the Monster: Season 3)

Selene

I step through the curtain of water, dismissing old warnings and only listening to the roar of my heart.

Venturing into unknown territory, I can barely focus on placing one foot in front of the other as I descend the mountain path. The scent grows stronger with each step, wrapping around me like invisible tendrils, pulling me forward. My skin feels too tight and too hot, and my breath comes in short gasps that have nothing to do with the steep descent.

“Keep it together, Selene,” I mutter to myself, but my body refuses to listen to reason. This is the first time I’ve left the safety of the summit.

The forest around me seems to pulse with life, every sensation heightened beyond bearing. The whisper of wind through pine needles sounds like secrets being shared. The dappled moonlight breaking through the canopy feels like fingertips brushing against my skin.

And that scent—gods, that scent. Rugged and masculine, with notes of fire and smoke, like a hearth in winter, like danger and comfort intertwined. It calls to something primal within me, something I’ve never felt before.

I pause, leaning against a boulder, trying to gather my wits. My thighs press together of their own accord, seeking relief from the ache building there. What is happening to me? In all my one hundred and twenty years, I’ve never experienced anything like this—this hunger and need.

The path curves ahead, disappearing around an outcropping of rock. The scent is most potent in that direction. Whoever is causing this reaction in me waits just beyond that bend.

I should turn back. I should run. Instead, I step forward.

“Stop,” I whisper to the voice, but it only grows more insistent, its allure becoming increasingly irresistible. “I cannot go much farther.”

For the first time, my bare feet sink into the lush, damp grass, and I gasp at the sensation—a cascade of tiny electric shocks racing up my legs, tingling and invigorating. The melodic sounds of the forest halt abruptly, leaving a profound silence in its wake. In this stillness, I hear soft breathing, the gentle rustle of fabric, and the quickening heartbeat of something just awakened to life.

I pause on the rocky path, my legs trembling beneath me as if the ground itself has become unstable. A strange, intoxicating scent envelops me again, and my breath hitches in my throat, caught between wonder and fear. “What is happening to me?” I whisper to the empty air, my voice barely audible. I press my palm against a nearby boulder, its cool surface grounding me as I try to steady myself amidst the swirling sensations.

The fragrance envelops me in a way that is utterly unique, unlike anything I’ve encountered before—it’s raw and primal, reminiscent of smoke mingled with the electric charge of lightning, underscored by a dangerously seductive allure. Each inhalation is a vivid current coursing through my body, awakening sensations in places I had never been so acutely aware of before.

I force myself to take another step down the winding path, then another, though my thighs quiver with each deliberate movement. The scent intensifies as I descend, growing richer and more compelling, pulling me forward like an invisible thread intricately coiled around my core. My fingertips tingle with an insatiable urge to reach out and touch something—someone—though the reason eludes me, leaving me in a state of bewildered anticipation.

As I leave the path and venture deeper between ancient trees, the forest thickens around me. The scent continues to call, becoming more complex with hints of cypress and wild things. My heart hammers against my ribs, and I find myself moving faster despite the difficulty, drawn downward by something I cannot name but suddenly cannot live without.

I pause, pressing my palm against the rough, gnarled bark of an ancient tree, steadying myself amidst the growing tension. My skin feels constricted, as if stretched too tight over my frame, radiating an uncomfortable warmth. The intricate silver markings that spiral across my arms pulse rhythmically, in sync with the rapid hammering of my heart. The forest around me blurs at the edges, the once-clear foliage now a hazy tapestry as my pupils dilate, adjusting to the encroaching darkness that blankets the woods.

“Control yourself, Selene,” I whisper into the silence, my voice barely more than a breath against the stillness of the trees. Yet, as the intoxicating scent intensifies, my resolve begins to waver, each molecule tugging at the core of my being.

Then I see a flicker of reddish-orange light flickering between the trees like a mischievous spirit. The unmistakable glow of fire—the eternal fire of demons—casts an eerie luminescence, dancing shadows across the forest floor. Suddenly, awareness washes over me, chilling my spine as I realize I have inadvertently crossed into their ancient, forbidden grounds.

I should retreat. Every rational thought screams for me to turn back to the safety of my own territory. But my feet move forward of their own accord, drawn by an invisible thread that tugs at something primal within me.

The heat beneath my skin intensifies, and my skin glows with an ethereal light that betrays my presence among the shadows. I press my hand to my throat, feeling my pulse racing beneath my fingertips.

“Just a glimpse,” I tell myself, knowing it’s a lie even as the words leave my lips.

The musky scent grows stronger and seems to call directly to my blood. My body responds in ways I’ve never experienced, sending waves of warmth pooling low in my belly. This heat is different from any I’ve known before, more consuming and demanding.

Frightened, I crouch behind a fallen tree trunk, peering through a curtain of ferns toward the source of the firelight. The scene that unfolds before me steals what little breath I have left.

A demon stands in a small clearing, his back to me, arms raised toward the star-scattered sky. The firelight dances across his bare skin, illuminating the intricate crimson markings that identify him as royalty among his kind. Through the branches, I glimpse him. Broad-shouldered with dark wings furled neatly on his back. His face is all angles in the moonlight, with a stubbled jaw and watchful eyes. He speaks to someone nearby, insisting they go no farther, and his deep guttural voice kindles a maddening heat within me.

I bite my lip until I taste blood, fighting the urge to call out to him. My body trembles with need, with recognition. Every instinct tells me to go to him, present myself, and claim what some ancient part of me insists is mine.

A twig snaps beneath my weight as I shift position, and he cuts his words abruptly. The demon turns, his eyes scanning the darkness, and for one heart-stopping moment, our gazes lock.

As the wind shifts, carrying my scent toward him, he stiffens. His head lifts, nostrils flaring slightly.

And I know, with absolute certainty, that I’ve been discovered.

He’s nothing like I imagined demons would be. Tall and muscular, with tattooed skin that seems to absorb dim light rather than reflect it. Dark hair falls across his forehead, and when he turns—as if sensing my presence—his eyes catch mine across the distance.

Gold. His eyes are molten gold.

My knees nearly buckle, and the silver markings on my skin flare bright enough to give me away completely. A soft gasp escapes my lips as the first true wave of heat crashes through me.

It’s him.

“Who are you?” the demon calls, his voice like smoke and honey.

I can’t speak or barely breathe. The heat of my unexpected fertility rises with cruel timing, flooding my senses until I have to dig my nails into the tree bark to keep from rushing toward him.

His nostrils flare slightly. He knows.

“My name is Vesper,” he says, and my soul recognizes him as my fated mate. But that’s impossible. How could the gods bind me to such a vile creature? “And I’ve been waiting for you.”

“I’m Selene.”