The Demon's Mate

"You long for someone to possess you," he continued, his voice dropping an octave, the vibration traveling directly through my spine and making my knees weak. "For someone to domesticate that chaos you carry inside. You want to be dominated, to be adored like a sacred relic and, with that same devotion, to be broken... only to have the pleasure of being rebuilt piece by piece."

The words were like velvet claws, digging into the parts of me I usually kept buried. Within me, the darkness that defined my demonic lineage began to claw at the walls of my self-control, but not out of a need to escape-it was out of a need to surrender.

My internal demons, usually so hungry and violent, didn't want to fight the angel. For the first time in an eternity, they wanted to kneel before him. They craved for that blinding light of his to claim them, to silence the constant roar of my blood, and to allow me to just... stop thinking.

I felt his hand slide along the curve of my neck, his fingertips barely brushing my skin, yet leaving a trail of liquid fire in their wake. My breath hitched, caught between a gasp and a plea.

"Then, little one..." he murmured, his presence overwhelming my senses until there was nothing left of the room around us. "Look into my eyes and tell me, with that sinful mouth... what is it that you truly desire?"

I wanted to stop thinking. I didn't want to stop him. I simply wanted to be. I wanted to feel.

I wanted to be his.