Page 11 of Where the Dark Knelt (Worshipped by Darkness #1)

Desmond

There was another party at my place that night, celebrating my victory in the World Motorcycle Race. Of course, I won – I always do. I’ve never lost. I always keep my aces close, tucked neatly in my pocket.

I smiled to myself as I took a sip of twenty-one-year-old whiskey, its smoky warmth curling down my throat as I gazed out over the sprawling city from the top floor of my penthouse.

Loud music pulsed through the walls, rattling the windows while racers and prostitutes mingled across expensive leather couches.

Everything would have been just fine if it weren’t for that damned monastery in the distance.

From up here, high above the city, I could see it clearly, it was perched by the ocean, nestled among distant mountain cliffs.

Even from the outskirts, its spires cut into the horizon like accusing fingers.

From my neighborhood, a district reserved for the elite, where only the most powerful people in the world owned their properties, it stood out like a silent threat, always there, always watching.

And I watched back.

Exhaling heavily, I finished the rest of my whiskey in one long pull, the ice clinking against the glass as I set it down on the polished bar. My gaze drifted lazily over the crowded room until it locked onto her.

She was dancing at the center of the floor, spinning around the gleaming steel pole I’d had installed just for nights like this.

Her movements were sinuous, precise, pure art in motion.

I’ve always loved watching dancers, the way their bodies bend and twist to the rhythm, every movement a silent prayer to life itself.

But after the last three hundred years… even dancing had lost its charm.

Soul contracts bored me now too. Everyone wanted the same thing, especially from a succubus demon.

I was easy to find; my reputation ensured a constant flow of desperate customers eager to sell their pathetic, rotting souls in exchange for their dirty fantasies.

It was too easy. No thrill. No challenge.

No hunt. Just the same pitiful requests, year after year, century after century.

I took another breath, letting the bass vibrate through my bones, and felt nothing but annoyance at these worthless humans. They were all the same to me now.

Gritting my teeth, I motioned to the bartender for another drink. He poured it without a word, used to my silent commands by now.

I took the glass and turned back to the room, watching with growing boredom as the blonde on the pole stripped off the last of her clothing.

She tried so hard to catch the attention of the partygoers, twirling her hair, arching her back, spreading her legs for all to see.

It worked for a while, a few drunken claps, a few fleeting glances, but in the end, no one chose her.

They all slipped off in pairs or groups, leaving her alone under the pulsing lights.

I knew why she was really here. She’d been chasing me for years, desperate for my attention, desperate for her wish to be granted.

But I still didn’t want her damned soul in my collection.

Not yet. Not ever, probably. I was still far from reaching the rank of a higher demon – about seven thousand seven hundred souls away – but honestly…

was I supposed to be a fucking soul-enslavement factory?

Scoffing, I shook my head, trying to dispel the haze clouding my vision. It was already my third bottle of whiskey tonight. We demons needed far more alcohol than humans to feel drunk, but once it hit… it really hit. Every nerve in my body burned, vibrating with electric heat.

And then my cock twitched at the thought of Eveline.

That sweet little nun. The way she looked, half-naked in the hot springs, steam curling around her pale skin like prayer smoke.

I watched her every move that night, devouring her with my eyes.

She was so full of fear, but there was something else in her gaze, something deeper…

darker. And I had all the patience in the world to unravel every secret hidden behind those innocent eyes.

Every dirty thought.

Every forbidden desire.

Because my ways of influencing people were…

interesting, to say the least. I loved tormenting them with erotic dreams, feeding on their sexual energy until they shattered beneath me.

And the monastery where my beloved Eveline lived…

hell, it was the perfect hunting ground for a demon like me.

Where else would I be, if not there? Taking over her dreams, her mind, step by step, until she surrendered to me completely and handed me her sweet, trembling soul.

But first… I would take her innocence. Her virginity. That victim game always lit a fire in my gut. And with her… oh, with her it would be the deal of the century when she finally gave in. When she finally became mine.

A low groan rumbled from my chest before I could stop it, and I noticed the girl on the pole pause mid-spin, eyes locking onto me, hopeful.

Pathetic.

“My boner is not for you, baby.” I winked at her and took another sip of whiskey. “This is for my beloved in that monastery...” I whispered to myself, licking my lips as I felt my cock stir and twitch in my tight leather pants, the fabric growing increasingly hot and constricting.

I wanted to go to the shower already, to be honest, and alleviate the tension in my aching dick and balls. That’s where I was heading, but the blonde, still damp from dancing, clung to me. She threw herself against my neck, panting and mewling softly as her half-wet body pressed to mine.

“Please, Desmond, take me and claim my soul now... how much longer must I wait for the ideal moment? When will my man finally satisfy all my dark, forbidden desires? There is no one else I trust for that but you.” She gazed up at me with sad, pleading eyes, her white lashes fluttering.

“Ivy, stop this circus,” I hissed, trying to detach her clinging body from mine. She let go easily enough, but the look on her face was too vacant today, her eyes glassy with intoxication. The alcohol had clearly gone straight to her head.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry, I’m just going crazy from ovulating,” she mumbled, her voice breaking as she wilted completely, pressing her cheek against my chest. Her arms wrapped tightly around my back in a desperate embrace.

I rolled my eyes.

“I’m selling my soul to you. Just find me my perfect man… since you don’t want to do anything with me yourself. I’m begging you.” Her voice cracked again, and she gripped me harder. “Don’t you have enough extra souls in your collection by now? What about your… super sexy succubus ranking, huh?”

Her words stung more than I cared to admit.

My rank had been slipping. Lower and lower with each passing decade, because honestly, I no longer gave a damn about running errands for these pathetic mortals, as if I were some kind of cosmic wish-fulfillment genie.

Yes, they handed over their souls, their energy, the very meaning of their existence, giving me power, magic, and influence…

but I had enough of all that. I was fed up with this city, these people, their predictability, their rotting desires that all smelled the same after a while.

What I wanted was something different.

Something with teeth.

Something like the little pepper burning brightly in that monastery…

Eveline, with her storm-gray eyes and soft light-brown hair, hair that clung wetly to her perfect breasts in the hot springs, breasts I wanted to bury my face in and taste her until she screamed prayers to gods who wouldn’t hear her.

Yes… she was what I wanted. Something worth hunting again.

My cock twitched and jerked urgently in my pants, the painful erection straining against the fabric.

Ivy’s hand crept towards my bulge, her fingers wrapping around my shaft as I inhaled sharply. “I can... I can perform a deep throat blowjob that will have you cumming in mere seconds, baby...” she purred seductively, pressing her lithe body against my toes and breathing her offer in my ear.

Downing the last of my whiskey, I seized her hand tightly and pulled her with me, ascending the stairs to the second floor where my private chambers lay concealed from the prying eyes of the partygoers below.

Having her seated on the bed, she immediately parted her legs and began to trail her long nails along the silky folds of her dripping pussy. I promptly halted her actions, grabbing her wrist.

“Stop it. Fine. Fine! I’ll take your fucking soul, just get off me already.”

She blossomed instantly, that sick little flower.

I sank to one knee in front of her, taking both her trembling hands in mine and staring straight into those bottomless, pitch-black eyes of hers.

She rolled them dramatically the moment my claws sank into her soft palms, but the way she squirmed on the bed told me the sting felt more like ecstasy than pain.

A smile cracked across her face as the fire flared between our joined hands — binding her soul to mine for eternity, sealing yet another worthless little deal in my collection.

The moment the flame flickered out, she flopped onto her back, moaning loud enough for the music downstairs to hush for a heartbeat.

Her spine arched deliciously as if the last shred of her will burned away with that flash.

She didn’t say a word, just stared up at me with expectant, hungry eyes, waiting for her wish to crawl out of the shadows.

I snapped my fingers. Her fantasy stepped into the doorway right on cue: the perfect man, custom-cut for her rotting heart. Black suit, broad shoulders, rough hands, he even carried the chain she’d always begged for.

She squealed like a bitch in heat when he growled her name in that low, rumbling bass. “Ivy, baby… it’s me. I’ve wanted you for so, so long…”