Date with Destiny-Demon Style Ch. 04

I know, I know. This one took a long time to post. But I had a small case of writer's block, along with something called 'college-level homework' (insert horrified screams). Again, I'm sorry that it took so long to get this one up. I'll try to be a little faster on the next ones.

*For those who don't know, 'rhypophobia' is the fear of dirt. I'm sorry, but I like to find the actual word for phobias that I use. If you see a word you don't know, I'll be glad to tell you what it means.

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"Wake up, Kara!" Her mother's voice grated against her sleep-clogged mind like nails on a chalkboard. "Honestly, you sleep more than a grizzly bear in hibernation."

Me curled up in a cave for four months. Oh, that's a wonderful image.

Groaning, she crawled out of the blankest that enveloped her, finally reaching the surface. She breathed in the warmth of the underworld, a faint small of rust lingering in the air. The sickening scent of sulfur burned her nostrils a second later, jolting her wide awake.

Ah, the smell of fire and brimstone. Make sure you get your daily dose of sulfur before breakfast.

She sat up in bed, stretching her arms up above her head. Her vertebrae popped back into place, making her feel invigorated. She rolled her neck as well, secretly loving the disgusted look on her mother's face when the bones cracked. Yawning, she flipped the blankets back and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She looked over her shoulder, her face contorting into a frown. The bed was empty. She looked back at her mother with confused eyes.

"Where's Ladrian?"

Her mother rummaged through a newly added dresser, searching for suitable clothing. The first real clothing she will have worn in days. The solid oak drawers had ornate filigree carved around the edges, while the distorted faced of demons smiled up at her from the brass handles.

"He left hours ago. You're supposed to pick your next suitor in an hour."

Disappointed that he hadn't stayed longer, she sighed and slipped out of bed. She felt exhausted with this whole process. It was like then Energizer Bunny of courtships. It kept going and going and going. She stretched again, trying to shake the sleep from her mind.

"Don't worry about Ladrian. I'm sure he's looking forward to seeing you again." Her mother's voice had a smile in it.

Something about that made her gut tighten, her body's attempt to express its concern. Somehow, her gut always seemed to know two things before anyone else: When something was wrong and when she had eaten too many tacos. In this particular situation, her gut wasn't telling her to lay off the Mexican food. It was warning her of something slightly worse.

"Can I at least bathe first? I small like a steel factory." The faint smell of iron from Ladrian's shackles still clung to her skin.

"Absolutely. Go take a shower. Your clothes will be here when you get back." Her mother was still picking out clothes for her. As much as it made her feel like a child, Kara admitted to herself that her mother choosing her clothing took a small load off her shoulders.

She nodded. Turning silently, she walked through another door on the opposite wall of her room's main entrance. She twisted the ornate doorknob --as ornate as a snarling demon head could get- and opened the door. She pushed it closed with her fingers, mesmerized by the gorgeous shower in front of her.

The magnificent structure stood in the middle of a black tiled room lit from small glass inlays in the ceiling that let in true sunlight. Four tall glass walls, ten feel tall and six feet wide, each lined with gold and engraved with a different design depicting one of the main elements of the world, were welded together to form a beautiful translucent box. A series of small holes, lined up directly above the glass enclosure, had been drilled into the ceiling.

Sweet!

She stepped up to admire the beautiful engraving on the glass. Running her finger along the smooth edges, she traced the images that depicted the element of fire. She heard a slight rumbling sound and backed up a step out of caution. The glass panels rattled for a moment, the shifted apart from one another, sliding along the smooth tile floor. Each panel moved backwards a few feet, creating a generous amount of room for her to step through.

Stepping forward tentatively, she walked through the space between the panels. When she got to the center above the room, standing under the holes in the ceiling, the glass panels slid along the floor again. They returned to their original positions, locking into one another until, the cube was formed again.

Holy shit! Eat your heart out, Paris Hilton. Even you don't have this!

Water began to pour from the holes in the ceiling, perfectly heated for her tired skin. She closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of warm water raining down on her. Her worries and fears about the courtships seemed to be washed away with the water. She looked down and saw that there was no drain. Instead, the tiles soaked up the water instantly, leaving the floor almost completely dry.

Looking around her small enclosure, she saw there was no shampoo or soap. Annoyance flared inside her. Warm water was nice, but her rhypophobic side always came to the forefront when it came to bathing. She hated being dirty. If there was no way to clean herself in the shower, then it was going to be a bad day.

And how am I supposed to take a shower without soap?!

Without warming, the texture of the water changed. No longer clear and slick, the liquid pouring from the ceiling had taken on a thicker, more viscous texture. It looked cloudy now, and had the slight smell of vanilla. Apparently, shampoo is added to the water itself when showering in Hell.

Taken aback for a moment, she relaxed and began to lather her hair, grateful that she had something to clean the grime away. Within minutes her hair was a massive ball of bubbles. On a hunch, she called out for water. The liquid changed back to being clear and scentless. She smiled as she rinsed. She could imagine enjoying this.

Curious, she crouched down and inspected the floor. It mesmerized her the way it seemed to absorb the water, leaving no trace behind. She could feel the warmth of it on her skin, but not a single drop showed on the black tile.

This is the coolest thing EVER!

Her though halted when a drop of still-soapy water dripped into her eye.

She stood up, grimacing through the discomfort as she rubbing away the soap. Backing up a step, she bumped into something sturdy. Startled, she whipped around, covering her chest with her arms and backing up against a glass panel. Lyzander stood before her in the pouring water, his white-blue eyes piecing into hers. His short hair, the color of warm chestnut, was plastered to his face, soaked with the hot water. The navy blue designs that snaked across his golden skin seemed to glow in the soft light.

Staring at him, she could see the full extent of his scar. It reached from the edge of his hairline, followed the curve of his eyebrow and speared straight down to his strong jaw line. The edges of the scar were clean, as if a scalpel had been used to make the cut.

Damn. That can't be nice to look at when you wake up every morning. Pity blossomed in her heart. If he really got that scar because he saved a girl from being raped, then the world had a fucked-up sense of justice.

"Well, hello princess." The corner of his full mouth turned up.

Blushing furiously, she managed a strained smile. "Hi. What are you doing here?"

Still smirking, he cocked his head an inch. "I could ask you the same thing."

She swallowed, forcing her confidence to the forefront. "Well, clearly I'm taking a shower."

"What a coincidence. So am I." He grinned and her knees nearly buckled. The man had the power to set fire to a room with his smile. Brilliant, perfectly white teeth --minus flesh-tearing canines- offset his golden skin tone.

Smiling nervously, her gaze wandered down his bronzed body. Rock-hard slabs of muscle made up his chest and abdomen. Arms roped with lean muscle and legs like a Greek god. His body was strong without being overly worked like the juice heads on Jersey Shore. Her gut wretched at the thought of that train-wreck.

Damn you, MTV.

He gaze slid lower, screeching to a halt at his hips. Years of being denied 'the talk' with her mother had made sex a mystery to her as a teen. It became something she had to discover for herself, through books, TV show innuendo and movies. But even through all of her informal education, she always found penises both too hilarious to look at and too embarrassing to acknowledge. With a colossal effort she dragged her eyes away from his cut abdomen, forcing them to stare over his shoulder.

A blush rose on her cheeks. "Sorry. I'm not very used to seeing guys naked in front of me." She chewed her lip nervously.

"It's not that strange." He chuckled at her nervousness. "I don't have a giant horn on my head or spines coming out my back, so there's no need to panic about it. Just act normally."

"Normal for me in this situation would be running away screaming." She tried her best to sound assured, but her heart still raced in her chest.

He considered this for a moment. "Then do the opposite of what you normally would."

A rare occurrence happened at that exact moment: Her mouth, without any communication with her mind, spewed out the first words that crossed her tongue.

"Ride you like a race horse at full gallop?"

His eyes widened in a mixture of surprise and elation. The magnitude of her words crashing down on her, she clamped her mouth shut and stared at him. He laughed again.

"That's...one way to put it, I suppose." He grinned at her, obviously enjoying her slip of control.

Still blushing from her head to the toenails, she looked away. Her mother would have killed her for saying something so salacious. Having been raised with a painfully uptight mother who magically neglected to tell her daughter anything about sex, the mentioning of racing studs would have warranted grounding at home.

Sensing her discomfort, Lyzander cleared his throat. "A change of subject, perhaps?"

She nodded, still avoiding eye contact.

He leaned against the glass, resting his shoulder on a carving of trees. "Why are you the only princess here? There's far too many higher demons for you to be the only one."

She gave him a half-shrug, half-nod. "There are a few more princesses besides me. But they're fifteen, twelve, eight, six and two at the moment."

Lyzander nodded slowly. "You're the only one who's of marrying age."

She nodded again.

"Interesting." He drew out the word, as if trying to piece something together.

She looked at him quizzically. "What is so in-ter-esting?" She drew out the word as well, mocking him.

He smirked at her. "Mocking me, are we?"

She challenged his smile with one of her own. "Perhaps. Feeling threatened or humiliated yet?"

His smile widened, making her knees weak again. "Not quite." He took a step close to her. "Maybe you should try something else."

She pressed her back against a glass panel, her heart racing. He came closer, now only a foot away from her. His hands reached up and pressed against the glass, pinning her against the solid wall and his chest. He took a final step, his chest pressing against her breasts. His skin was hot, almost burning, but she felt herself melting against him. She loved the feel of his skin against her own.

"Tell me, princess. Do you enjoy toying with people?" Mischief sparkled in his pale eyes.

Her throat too dry to swallow, she inhaled deeply. "I try to avoid games, Lyzander."

One strong hand reached up and gently cupped her chin, his thumb stroking her jaw. "Lyzander is my name, but you may call me whatever you wish."

She nodded shakily, her knees growing weaker by the second. Fear and arousal twisted into one within the depths of her mind. This man had her cornered, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to escape his trap.

"W-what...is your, uh...job, exactly?" She managed to squeeze the words out with a tremendous effort. The growing haze of lust in her mind didn't help much.

He cocked his head, his gaze quizzical. "Job?"

Finally able to swallow, she cleared her throat. "You're part demon, right. Every demon I know has a skill that helps them lure humans. Do you have a specialty or something?"

Understanding seeped into his expression, causing him to smile again. "Ah, indeed I do. I am an incubus by trade."

"An...incubus." She looked at him skeptically.

"Yes. Shall I show you?" His smile turned wicked, causing her to press her back to the glass. A vain attempt at escape.

"What? I-"

He cut off her protest with a decadent kiss. His lips were warm and soft against her own, the velvety softness melting the starch in her bones. The kiss forced her harder against the wall, though she tried to push him off, pressing her hands to his hard chest. Her efforts halted when he opened his mouth against hers. The taste of honey and cinnamon flooded her mouth, overpowering her and making her head spin. Her knees lost their strength altogether, and she would have collapsed to the floor if he hadn't gripped her waist and pulled her close.

His kiss burned her, searing her straight to her soul. Still locked to him, she jumped when she felt one hand skim down her back, his fingers searing her flesh as the traced their way down. Those fingers circled around to her stomach and continued their descent. She jumped again when his fingers brushed against her inner thigh, drawing out an involuntary moan from her throat. She tried to pull the sound back, but Lyzander was far too quick to be denied that simple yet oh-so-precious gift.

He kissed her harder, his tongue slipping past her lips and caressing her own. At the same time, his fingertip brushed against the edge of her slit, causing her to gasp in shock mid-moan. Her body working against her mind, she pressed against him, her tongue now entering the fray. She licked and teased his mouth, and she shivered when she heard his small laugh of triumph.

Damn this man. He was driving her mad! She hated that he made her lose control so quickly, and yet she couldn't help but surrender to his touch, his kiss. Defeated in the most delicious way possible, she forced her knees to gain enough of their strength back so she could stand. She wrapped her arms around his neck, silently waving her white flag. She could feel his smile against her mouth. His finger continued to tease her into a frenzy while their tongues twisted and coiled together.

Abruptly, almost painfully, he broke their kiss. Though crushed at his absence, she tossed her head back and drank in a deep, refreshing breath of air. Before she could call him back, she felt his lips press against her throat. He nipped and suckled her tender flesh, teasing her until she begged him for mercy. He acquiesced to her pleas, slipping his finger into her body as his mouth slid lower.

She closed her eyes as pure delight sparked through her veins. Her head spun, a ridiculous grin marring her face. The man's hands were magic, his kiss was sinful. His fingers twisted and teased inside her, sending bolts of lightening racing up her spine. His lips continued down, past her shoulder, arcing to brush against the tops of her breasts. The slight pressure sent a new flood of sparks through her veins. She bit her lip as she smiled, giggling insanely.

Lyzander halted his ministrations, causing her to whimper and search for him. She met his eyes, pale orbs smiling up at her. Her breath was ragged, her body burning for him to continue.

"I hope you're pleased, princess. I would hate to be disappointing you." He grinned, a mocking smile that announced his conquest.

She could only nod, barely conscious of anything besides the haze of lust that clouded her mind. She watched as his eyes light up, pleased to see her so helpless in his grasp. His head dipped lower, his lips barely grazing her nipple. She jerked involuntarily and moaned his name. Her body was strung so tight that even the slightest touch set her skin on fire. His tongue swept along the tender flesh of one breast, giving one long, sensuous lick from the soft underbelly to the tight nub. He finally conceded to her demands for more attention, taking her nipple into his mouth to gently suckle. She shivered, the demon blood in her body screaming at her to pounce on him like a starved animal. The human part of her mind barely resisted doing so. Her fingers slid from his neck and traveled down, gripping the lean muscles of his shoulders. She hoped her body could withstand his touch, though that hope was slowly dissolving as his sinful game continued.

He continued to tease her, stroking her now weeping sex and laving her tender breasts. Every now and then, his thumb would trace a delicious circle around her clit, making her cry out and arch her back against the glass. The warm water raining down on her skin only made the sensation more powerful. Tears streamed down her face, mixing with the steaming water of the shower. Her body was breaking down, her spirit was crumbling. Despite her half-demon nature, the subtle part of her that did not accept defeat, her will and control wouldn't last long.

One last lick of her breast and she was spinning into a dark, shadowy land of endless delights and dreams come true. She clenched her hands, her nails digging into his skin, drawing small beads of luminescent gold blood. His touch turned soft as she stroked her through the whirlwind of pleasure, his free hand still cradling her back.

The ripples of ecstasy subsided slowly, allowing logic and reason to gain control once more. She shook her head, dizzy from her climax. Damn, these men were animals. And she hadn't slept with any of the yet! She shivered, trying to imagine how intense her orgasms would be one she got into bed with them.

Lyzander stood, still holding her gently. She closed her eyes and lifted her chin to the ceiling, letting the warm water wash away the last remnants of her climax.

"I certainly hope you enjoyed yourself. Most incubi don't doll out pleasure for free." Lyzander laughed, the sound music to her ears.

She giggled. "I think I may have had a good time, there."

He laughed again. "I'm so glad I could please you, princess."

She smiled at him, tipping her head back and resting it on the glass panel behind her. All the talks of her failing at love and romance faded away into the distance of her mind, leaving her warm and satisfied. She scoffed at all the teenage girls who had teased her in school, saying she'd never find a man willing to love her. Well, she certainly showed them, hadn't she? After eighteen long years of hoping and dreaming for someone to please her and tend to her needs, she'd finally found three men willing to fight for her approval.

"My lady?" Lyzander's voice broke through her inner pep rally. "Do you feel clean enough?"

Dragged out of the haze of satisfaction and relaxation clouding her mind, Kara looked at Lyzander with a soft smile. Her eyes were barely open, tiny slits of cobalt staring dreamily into pale blue. She nodded slowly, her slight smile slowly dissolving into a foolish grin.

Lyzander smiled back. "I'll take that as a yes."

Without hesitation, he reached out and wrapped one hand around her waist. Lifting her and tossing her over his shoulder, he pounded his fist against one of the glass panels of the shower. Immediately they separated, sliding along the smooth tile floor. The water stopped pouring from the ceiling, though the warm steam still hung in the air. He stepped through the openings in the panels and headed for her bedroom, still carrying her. She lifted her head and watched as the glass panels slid back into place. She dropped her head back against his muscular back. She closed her eyes and began laughing like a woman in a drunken stupor. Her mind was so clouded with pleasure, she let go of all restraints and allowed her body total freedom. Her laughter echoed against the marble walls.