Defeat the Darkness (Hearts of Darkness)

The tank top worked out fine once Shelby figured out where to situate the thin string straps around her wings.

Her wings?

They actually were lovely. Delicate. Fragile. Colorful. Iridescent. A contrast to Kyle’s dark, powerfully masculine wings. He managed to get them back under control with Victor’s help, once he and Max arrived in Dylan’s library.

Kyle’s wings were contained under his skin along his spine for the time being, but she knew he was keeping his distance to maintain his self-control. She twitched hers and they moved a fraction of an inch spreading a fine golden dust into the room all around her. All the men groaned at once and backed away from her. Apparently, the dust acted like an aphrodisiac.

“Ah, sorry,” she said, suddenly feeling hungry again. As quickly as her sexual hunger started, it stopped.

She suspected Dylan was the one controlling not only her hunger, but also, what under normal circumstances would be, her and Max’s hysteria.

Victor still hung back with Kyle while Dylan finished explaining everything to her and Max. “I’ve called
Símone
. She’s a succubus, the closest thing we have to a sex fae in the area. She should be able to assist with questions and be able to teach you something about your powers until I can locate another of your kind.”

“A succubus? What’s the difference between us?”

“A succubus can be deadly when out of control. They sneak into your mind while you sleep and exist off sexual dreams. They are dark fae and are likely to kill their hosts without consideration.
Símone
has learned how to exist in our world without killing, and her knowledge should be very helpful to you.”

Max had the next question. “You’re saying the difference between Shelby and
Símone
is that one lives off waking sex and the other dream sex?”

“Not exactly. Shelby would never kill her partner. She can pleasure herself and survive off her own orgasms, if necessary. A
succubus feeds off the orgasm created during a dream, during a deep dark sleep. It’s dangerous for the host because they want to remain in the state of ecstasy—that moment of the perfect orgasm. They don’t want to awake.”

Defeat

the

Darkness

Demons of the Bayou

B
y

Eliza March

Hearts of Darkness, Book One

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Defeat
the Darkness [Demons of the Bayou]

COPYRIGHT © 2013 by Eliza March

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

EMAIL: [email protected]:

WEBSITE: ElizaMarch.com

Cover Art by Maureen Sevilla

[Photos
Licensed from Bigstock and Photodune]

Publishing History

First Edition, 2013

Print ISBN
-13: 978-1491226032

Digital ISBN
-10: 1491226032X

Hearts of Darkness, Book One

Published in the United States of America

Dedication

To my husband, Bill and my friend, author and critique partner, Donna (Lorelei) Confer, who never gave up on this book. Every conversation began with, “Is it finished yet?”

Well, you two…here it is. This one’s for you.

Acknowledgments

I want to acknowledge my critique partner, author Sharron Riddle and my author friends at TARA who support me on all the social media sites and COMMENT, LIKE, TWEET, and SHARE. Thanks most of all to my readers who cheered from the sidelines, encouraging me to finish this book. After 2012, I thought my MUSE had abandoned me until she clobbered me in the head and said, “Listen.”

This is what she said…

Prologue

Egypt, sometime after the Thirteenth Dynasty

Until Baphomet, no one had ever penetrated Aya’s protective shields to discover what she was. The fallen angel, leader of the Underworld demons and right hand to the ruler of Hades, needed her for what she provided—goddess blood. T
ainted though it was, her blood, the blood of a Titan, was the one thing he required to remain in this realm, and his was necessary for her to return to the Underworld where she was raised.

The thrust of the demon’s teeth into her breast reminded her of his dark power. She shivered with pleasure while one of the worlds’ fiercest demons drank her essence to maintain his corporeal image—the one he used to mask his true appearance while building his demon army on this mortal plane. It wouldn’t do for his quarry to realize what they were befriending before he had them completely under his control. He was here to acquire men’s souls for his master, and to that purpose he agreed to share some of his power with her—power she craved.

Aya held the mighty demon in her arms. His perpetually tan skin covered large, well-defined muscles. His shoulders were broad and his waist narrow. When he wore his long, black hair loose, the way he did now, his rounded horns swept back above his ears. They were nearly invisible, much like the enormous wings he kept flattened in the pouches along his spine.

Heat and sweat poured off her as they came together, along with the elusive emotions she hardly recalled. The demon stirred
her in ways she couldn’t deny for she felt all those emotions with him—emotions lost to ancients over the long years.

Love above all else was foreign to her. Dependence on him brought resentment and spurred the hatred. Kindred spirits—more alike than different, they met over the innumerable years for their own selfish purposes. Those purposes brought them to an accord of sorts—some level of distrust for a common goal. This was one of those times—the reason she called for him.

Aya stopped responding to his thrusts and when he paused, she said, “The priests are influencing my husband against me.”

The raised eyebrow silently questioned her words. He cast an appreciative glance at her body before he resumed the perfect pumping rhythm that would bring them both to completion. He thrust deeper, more quickly inside her, and suckled more of her blood from her breast.

Aya gasped at the pleasure he sent to her mind with his act of possession. Usually he preferred to abide in her pain. Usually she did as well. Pain reminded her of all the reasons she existed—why she hated him. She blocked her thoughts of hatred and focused on returning his pleasure.

“Demon lord, this time I am afraid he will listen.”

Lifting his head and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, the massive demon with a rugged angel’s face and a body meant for pure pleasure, stared at her and grinned.

“He is a bigger fool than I gave him credit for.” His quiet laughter sent chills up her spine.

The demon could be deceptively charming when he wanted to be, but she would never completely trust Baphomet nor any man. Men were pawns she manipulated toward her ultimate goals.

“Yes, a very big fool, but a man of unusually high morals,” she agreed. This was too important for him to ignore. “We would lose access to everything if…” She left the rest for him to imagine.

The demon pondered her words more seriously and then shrugged. “You are right to be concerned. There must be no question of the Pharaoh’s loyalty to you or your right to the throne. Kill him before he goes to the priests and takes another to wife.”

Beautiful or not, her inconstant lover still frightened her beyond measure. The angelic face behind the goat’s mask he wore during rituals, never disguised his true nature—his heart was pure evil. It fueled his nature and fed him. It was why he searched her out and used her. They were perfect partners—exquisitely illusive, deadly, and eternally evil and they hated one another to the foundation of their beings.

Baphomet’s wings unfurled from his powerful back muscles, and he rose above her. His magnificent naked body was a testament to his status and might, and her never-failing lust for the fallen angel.

“You cannot gain entrance into the temple where the secrets you desire are kept until you are the ruling Queen. Only then will the priests grant you access. You must kill the Pharaoh.”

~~~~

Kill him. Another king, dead by her hand.

“I have decided. I will take another First Wife. I must have an heir,” the Pharaoh whispered against her neck that night.

Aya couldn’t count the husbands she had taken to her bed over the years, or how many times she suffered the humiliation of this rejection. Over her long life and countless lovers, he was the first to do so while thrusting between her welcoming thighs. He also would be the last. This time she would keep the king’s power as Baphomet suggested, and rule the Dynasty as Queen of Thebes.

Handsome, virile, and totally in love with her, at one time her husband had been easy to manipulate. He had eagerly shared his power and recognized her superior intellect. Listening to no one but her, he even dismissed the priests’ advice. But when his sister became widowed, she quickly had the chief priest’s ear.

Aya kissed her husband’s lips and encouraged him onto his back restraining her abilities. Rising above him, her long black hair, a veil of silk, draped her as she rode him, slowly, deliberately, drawing out his pleasure. And when he could contain himself no longer, she allowed him to spend himself uselessly inside her. Until she uncovered the temple’s secrets, she would remain sterile.

She rolled to her side facing him, caressing his chest. “I understand the need for your line to continue. Have you chosen another?” she asked quietly.

“No. The priests encourage me to take my sister, but you are my heart.” He cupped her face and kissed her.

Her husband meant every word. In a time when royalty was often polygamous, he remained steadfastly devoted and constant to her. There were times when she rearranged meetings with Baphomet to accommodate the king. He must never doubt her.

“And you are mine,” she murmured against his neck. “When will you make the announcement?” She needed more time.

“I will inform the priests when the sun rises.”

No, he would not.
There was no more time.

“Then we will remember the passion of this night.” Aya lifted his knees and settled between his thighs, breathing softly across his skin.

“I remember every night, my love.” He arched against her lips, and his moan of pleasure erased the momentary stab of guilt she experienced at his declaration.

Kill the Pharaoh.
Baphomet’s words entered her mind.

“This will be even better. No. Relax,” she insisted and blocked the king’s pain, sending his mind only pleasure. Her fangs extended and she thrust them deep in his artery. Finding the main blood source quickly, she drained him, leaving no obvious trace of her bite.

~~~~

With her high priest, Baphomet by her side, the new queen looked out over the people, her people, from high above the temple precipice on her coronation day. Six days ago, they stood in this very same spot mourning the Pharaoh. The throngs stood, side by side, body to body, outstretched for miles before her. Then for her husband, now for her. With her other priests behind her, the Queen of Thebes fooled them all and garnered the support of her Dynasty at least for this lifetime. Later, she would move on—another life—another name.

Baphomet placed the royal headdress upon her, and followed by placing the ancient fertility torc around her neck.

“It will not work without the ancient spell,” he whispered as he adjusted the clasp.

The power of the people and the moment made her overly confident. She lifted her head and her chin. Then she raised her eyes to the masses chanting her name.

“I will have the spell soon,” she murmured.