Damien Night

Annabelle was surprised at herself. Maybe it was all the talks with her Gram, but now that the initial shock had worn off she was managing to keep her wits about her. If she was doomed to inadvertently attract the attention of a demon, she could have ended up with much worse. Stories of beings, both sinister and benevolent, ran through her head. They fed on humans, each needing different things in different ways ranging from unimaginable acts of horror to completely undetectable. She wasn't certain where in that scale this Damien fell under but she had a feeling it wasn't the latter end. Still, since he didn't want to kill her, as long as she had that amulet on she should be fine. She told herself she could ignore the way he made her pulse dance. Bolstered by that knowledge, she whirled on him.

"Trust a demon? That's rich." She scoffed, locking eyes with him. His fiery emerald gaze was a little more than she was prepared for, but she forced herself to hold it.

The thought of killing her flicked across his brain. She was a hell of a lot stronger than he'd suspected. She'd make one good hunter if someone trained her which didn't bode well for his kind, but in five thousand years he could count on one hand the number of times something had been denied him. He wasn't going to add to it. He held his position, making a show of enjoying the way the towel enhanced her cleavage.

"Suit yourself, but understand I'm not leaving until I get what I want."

"Really?" Annabelle let out the breath she didn't realize she was holding which didn't help her position. The moment she inhaled, that warm sweet smell, like cinnamon but not, invaded her senses and drove her heart rate faster. It was an unfair advantage, but, apparently, she had an advantage of her own. Her hand twitched off the amulet.

"I wouldn't." Damien didn't flinch, though it took every ounce of willpower he had not to. "I may not be able to touch you but I can certainly make your life a living hell."

"And how do I know you don't plan on doing that anyway?" She asked.

"You don't, but I guarantee you'll regret it if you lay one fucking finger on me."

She backed away, her earlier assessment of 'could have ended up with much worse' faltering a little.

"OK, I can't make you leave, but you are not getting whatever it is that you want. This necklace stays put." Annabelle lifted her chin defiantly, trying to resummon the courage she'd found earlier but coming up short.

He found it cute, the way she tried to stand up to him. With a satisfied sigh he settled himself on the only seat in the room and made a show of getting comfortable. He watched her chin drop slowly as she threw an errant glance around the tiny bathroom finally falling on the t-shirt and panties she'd tossed on top of the hamper and then to the towel wrapped tightly around her. It was sinking in, just what it meant when he said he wouldn't leave.

"Who says I'm not getting what I want?" he asked with a Cheshire grin that looked downright evil when coupled with those strange eyes.

So she'd just lost her privacy. Lovely! At least she was a boring person. Other than seeing her naked she couldn't divine any other reason to hold his attention for very long. As soon as he got his fill of her bare flesh he'd go find some he could touch. A week at most for sure. Her lips curved into a mischievous smile of her own.

"Oh, you want to torture yourself? Have fun with that." She said sarcastically, unceremoniously dropping the towel as she headed to the clothes she'd laid out for the night.

Damien took in every detail, the fall of her breasts, the shape of her ass marked with black streaks of hair, and the way it rounded above her thighs. His eyes followed the hourglass curve from her shoulders through her waist and past her hips, and finally down the length of the legs he was not going to have wrapped around him tonight. She was right, it was torture, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't enjoying it.

"So when was the last time you gave someone the pleasure of that body?"

The very simple approval in his tone only served to complicate her emotions further. She gave up acting like she didn't care he was there and yanked on the t-shirt and panties while steadfastly ignoring him.

"You can't ignore me, Belle." He continued as she attempted to lay a line of paste down on her tooth brush.

"My name isn't Belle." She answered in a flat tone.

"Neither is Siren, so what's it short for?" When she did not answer he started guessing, slowly. "Isabella? Isabelle? Belladonna? Arabelle? Annabelle?" He noted the subtle reaction to his last guess and stopped right there. "Annabelle. Pretty. So, Annabelle, how long has it been?"

"I don't know, a year." She snapped as she rinsed the brush and slammed it into the holder waiting for whatever line he was going to lay on her.

"Shame." He said with a shrug.

"What?!" She whipped out with an about face. "That I don't want some guy putting his paws all over me?"

"You obviously care." He went on calmly, recalling the muscle definition across her back. "It shows."

"And it's for me." She said quietly. With that Annabelle left the bathroom and moved to the bedroom so she could collapse on the little full-sized bed. She waited for him to follow her, to say something, but the silence stretched on until she realized he was gone. She drifted off thinking maybe it was just a dream.

***

He'd passed the remainder of the night in his lair, going back through every moment of their time together. He wasn't seeking cracks in her defences. Not being able to touch a woman was no hindrance to getting her pants off. Touch was the culmination of foreplay, not the beginning. His curiosity led him to wonder what would make her not just give in, but lose complete control.

So it had been a year. Generally that meant 'candy from a baby' easy, but she wasn't longing. She was expertly avoiding. He suspected she was limiting complications. Little Annabelle had enough trudging through a life she wasn't born for. Now she'd just attracted one more, and it stood at the foot of her bed watching the sun creep across her body as it rose.

God damn necklace, he thought ruefully.

Annabelle stirred, that familiar 'out of place' feeling dragging her to a grating resemblance of consciousness. There was no ignoring it this time; she knew exactly what it meant. Insane or not there was a demon somewhere near. Her eyes opened slowly in an attempt to let them adjust to the intrusive sunlight, and the blurry figure of a man watching her as he leaned across the ancient dark wood of her footboard greeted her. She rubbed her eyes once to make sure he was there then jumped when he came into focus. Instead of the black hair and pale skin she was expecting, it was hair the color of sand-the really pretty stuff they trucked in for the tourist-with a matching goatee and a tan.

Her breath came a little faster as nerves kicked in. The last thing she needed was another one to deal with, but if there was one than there were bound to be more right? She sat up slowly waiting for him-it?-to do something, but there was absolutely no movement. It was unnerving. She absently touched the little pendent against her chest as she tried to figure out what she was going to do next. The movement drew the eyes, green eyes. In the sunlit room they threw off no light, but they were unmistakably the same.

"So you can change your appearance." Annabelle said as she rolled over. There was no reason whatsoever for her to be awake at this ungodly hour. A sideways glance at the clock by the bed only made things worse. The only time she ever saw the sun rise was on her way to sleep.

"Yes." She was relieved to hear his voice sounded the same for some reason. "If it's not appealing I can change it. Any man you could possibly desire. Interesting potential there, no?"

"No." she snapped.

"Not a morning person, apparently."

She dismissed a couple of biting sarcastic remarks and then an idea hit her. Rolling back over, she flashed him a beautiful smile.

"No, just not into men."

"Really." Damien said thoughtfully as he stood up. "I didn't get that vibe from you last night."

Damn. She did nearly melt into a puddle for him at the top of the stairs. "The hair." She shrugged. "And I'm female. Always a sucker for a good seduction line right? Now, do you mind if I get some more sleep? It's only been a few hours since the last time you bothered me, and you may not need it but I do." She finished, rolling back over to signify that she was done talking to him.

The bed seemed to sink as if she suddenly weighed more causing her to readjust to her back while she attempted to figure out what was going on. Then he was just there supporting himself on all fours over her. Her hand covered her mouth and nose, eyes wide. The action was a complete shock, even knowing he wasn't human didn't prepare her for that trick, but it had little to do with why her hand went where it did.

"What's the matter, Annabelle?" He asked quietly.

She shut her eyes and tried to tell her lungs they could wait a bit longer but they weren't listening. She'd been nearly out of breath before he'd pulled his little manoeuvre. The last time he was this close to her she barely managed to maintain a coherent thought after that first tantalizing breath, but prolonging this was no use. She gave in with a little gasp, his scent filling her and messing with her head. She tried to shake it off.

"Get off, Damien." She bit out through gritted teeth. It was meant as a threat but sounded more like a plea.

He watched the skin of her slender neck and across her collar bones turn the color of a good blush wine, heard the pace of her heart quicken, and suddenly regretted being this close without being able to take advantage of it.

"It doesn't work on someone who isn't amenable to it the first place." He commented as he continued to observe the effect his proximity was having on her.

She opened her eyes to find his only inches away. As unsettling as that gaze of his was, his lips were far more dangerous to her at the moment. She wanted a taste. She was damn near ready to sell her soul for it, and she was determined to convince herself that's what it meant. There was nothing harmless about the creature hovering over her now.

"Pressing your luck aren't you?" She asked, trying to distract herself.

"I'm betting you won't press yours." He answered without hesitation.

"What do you want, Damien?" A hint of alarm slipped into her voice.

His head dropped lower, achingly close, and every quickened breath made it harder to remind herself that giving in would only lead to disaster. Pressing her thighs tightly together in response to her growing need, she ran the tip of her tongue against the edge of her bottom lip focusing on what his lips would feel like against hers. Her eyes drifted closed as her hand closed over the pendent.

"Why don't you take that thing off and find out, Annabelle." He whispered.

'Never take it off, Annabelle. Promise your old grandmother you'll never take it off.'

The warning came back to her, strengthening what little resolve she had left. She pressed herself into the mattress and turned her head, pulling as far away as possible.

"I promised." The words passed her lips with no sound, but it must have been enough. A second later the room was empty, an emptiness that begged to be filled.

Annabelle opened her eyes hoping for relief but only finding frustration and need. If his intentions were to drive her completely mad then he was succeeding. For a second time she was forced to reconsider her earlier evaluation of the situation. She could not ignore what he did to her. Without even touching her he did more than any man had in a very long time, and it wasn't helping that it had been such a long time. She had her reasons; one of them being there was nothing she couldn't do just fine, if not better, alone.

And she was alone. The evidence was nearly tangible in her current state. Hopefully he was off somewhere cursing her name, though why he stopped when she was so obviously ready to give in was beyond her. It was a pointless train of thought, however. The only thing that mattered right now was satisfying the craving coursing through her body, then sleep, and nothing else.

Under the light shimmery fabric of her green and gold comforter she slid her t-shirt up under her arms exposing her breasts to the cool underside of her sheets. Having no idea when he'd decide to pop back in added another since of urgency as she grasped her rigid nipples between the thumb and index finger of each hand sighing softly at the touch. Her body responded instantly, her long slender legs brushing together in anticipation. Her right hand drifted down the plain of her stomach as she parted her knees. She traced lines along her inner-thighs with her nails, teasing herself, before sliding her middle finger beneath the line of her panties. The cotton was cool against the back of her finger, and drenched. It also limited what she could do so she kicked them off and gently slid two fingers within her sex, concentrating on the sensation and trying like hell not to think of Damien and whatever he wanted from her.

Somewhat reluctantly she withdrew her fingers. Normally penetration meant nothing to her but she wanted him. She let herself imagine his hips pressed between hers, the feel of his cock invading her, as her fingers slid across her clit. She pressed her nails into her a nipple with her free hand, relishing the pain as much as the pleasure as she quickly brought herself to the precipice of climax. Her body tensed, her toes curling and then she cried out as the sweet release washed over her like shock waves from a small explosion. Annabelle lay still, listening to the sound of her ragged breaths, hoping she'd managed to pull that off while still alone. Thankfully the room was empty and, smiling, she drifted off.