Shadowed Mirrors

Prologue

The figure inside the carriage struggled violently. This was the first Incubus class demon we'd ever restrained successfully, usually the guards fell under his sway and their innocence was consumed; making him all the more powerful. 

Incubi are the second highest rank of demon, just under the King of Hell himself. Nasty sons of bitches if you're gay or easily susceptible to persuasion. I fucking hate them personally, which is why I signed up to be one of the leaders in torturing this bastard until he gave up the secret of how to kill the King of Hell. 

We dragged the hooded demon all the way down the stairs, into the lower levels of our base out in the East Mountains, and set to work. I chose a blessed blade, imbued with a special function; the tip of the blade acted as a hypodermic needle and therefore injected him with a mixture of holy water and dead man's blood.

He screamed so loudly the first time I cut him with it, his black blood dripping down his alluringly pale skin. I had to keep vigilant, and not fall under his charms or feel sorry for him. The others, they had their concerns, mostly because I was openly gay.

I could scent his fear, but also arousal. The bastard was getting turned on from the pain my blades caused him. I trailed the tip of one especially nasty weapon; a curved blade designed for clipping the bony wings of Draek; down his exposed stomach, noting how he shivered and the scent of his arousal got stronger. 

It was like standing in a copse of pine trees, but somehow sharper. The scent was almost mint-like, yet at the same time had the tinge of earthen musk that pine trees carry. It was intoxicating, and I had to hold back my syl; lest it burst through my skin and alert my men that their leader was not only under the Incubus' sway but was also a Draek Nephilim. 

His black trousers had an obvious bulge, his arousal only growing stronger in scent as I leisurely trailed the tip of the razor sharp blade over it. He whined slightly, his large red eyes fixed pleadingly on me. 

"Does it hurt?"

He nodded vigorously.

"Do you want me to help you?"

He nodded even more animatedly, and the scent of his arousal became almost overpowering. He was exuding the same scent my soldiers had fallen prey to many a time before, trying to get me under his thrall. Not going to work this time.

I stripped him, digging the blade along his hips and under the backs of his knees before tossing the bloodied blade onto the nearby table and striding out of the room. His scent followed me, sticking to my clothes as his screams rang out. 

My men did their job, torturing him until he broke and gave up everything he knew on the King of Hell and how to kill him for good. We didn't let him go, rather we gave him his clothes back and locked him in a special anti-demon cell we'd made in case we captured one of them alive.

I had a feeling he was more than he claimed to be, with that enthralling scent of his. Most Incubi employed a fiercer scent, almost like smoked applewood or like cinnamon. His scent was softer, more homely and alluring than theirs. It intrigued me as to just who he was back in Hell.