Page 39 of Demon's Obsession
Silas’s eyes twinkled, his skin glowing in the candlelight, revealing the sheen of sweat that coated his skin as he concentrated solely on Dakata.
Dakata panted, groaned, and gave in. “You win,” he gasped. He clutched at Silas’s slim hips, fingers digging in with the effort to restrain himself from thrusting up into the snug channel.
When Silas’s ass nestled on Dakata’s thighs, he was slick with oil and sweat, his ears pounded with the beat of his heart, and he struggled to take a breath, feeling like he deserved some form of a medal as recognition of his restraint.
Silas shifted just a fraction, and it tore a groan from Dakata’s throat. Silas’s lips touched his, and he became lost in the swirling desire to claim his tree nymph. He deepened the kiss.
Hot and hungry, they devoured each other, slick hands roamed his body as Dakata ate Silas’s whimpers, moans, and breathy cries.
“Move… please…” Silas begged against his lips.
What followed was a blur as Dakata sank into a world full of bliss. One he never wanted to leave—ever.
You don’t have to…
Epilogue
Silas
“I promise you, I’m fine.” Silas gently leaned into Dakata’s hand as his demon carefully cinched the straps from Jennifer’s orchid top around his back. “Our wonderful tree has been playing host to these wonderful flowers for more than a month now. I can feel the energies from the oak through these blooms. Now stop fussing. You’re making people edgy.”
He giggled at Dakata’s growled mutter. They were in Paris, France, somewhere Silas had never dreamed he would visit, but he already knew he’d come back. The parks and trees, thefriendliness of the people—it was dubbed a city for romance, and that was how Silas viewed it.
But for now it was night time, and they were in a huge concrete and glass structure—a large arena that held more people than Silas had ever seen in one place before. The band was finishing up their song, and in just a few moments, someone would introduce Silas.
“You can’t let anyone touch you.”
Aww, my demon is feeling grouchy because he can’t come out.Turning carefully so as not to bruise his flowers, Silas rested his hands on the thin white shirt covering Dakata’s chest. “No one ever touches me when I sing,” he reminded both man and demon. “Remember when you came to watch? I go on stage, sing, come offstage and you will be right here waiting for me.”
“They might want encores, someone could rush the stage.”
Silas chuckled softly, conscious of their audience—the people who worked behind the scenes to ensure everything ran smoothly in a show. “You’ve stationed two lines of security between the stage and the audience. The stage itself is raised so high that no one except a monkey could climb up onto it. And no, no…” Silas put his fingers over Dakata’s lips as the demon started to rumble. “You already checked the foundations of the stage three times. It’s not going to fall. Merihem is pulling his hair out over the number of demands you made for me to sing one simple set.”
“It has to be perfect. I want it to be a wonderful experience for you.”
“And it will be.” Silas nodded, and then tilted his head as the song from the band wound to a close. “Those people out there don’t know me. They’ve never listened to my songs before. They might not even like the way I sing.”
Clearly the wrong thing to say to a stressed demon. “Hush,” Silas said urgently as Dakata’s grumbles got louder and his eyesflashed. “We can leave right now if you like, and I won’t sing at all. You can whisk me back to the forest, and I’ll talk to Branson again and see if I can sing there. But you are not, under any circumstances, going to go on a demon rampage when there are so many people in here. Promise me,” he warned. “Promise me,” he repeated when Dakata’s jaw tightened.
It took a moment, but Silas didn’t get stressed. He never did when he sang. He could wait. People could wait. He needed to see Dakata’s trust in him, in their bond, in what they were together, and understand that no matter where Silas sang, or to who, he was confident his demon would always be by his side.
“I’ll be watching,” Dakata finally said.
“I know.” Silas’s smile widened. Brushing a quick kiss on Dakata’s chest, Silas hurried to the side of the stage just as the lead singer on stage announced him.
“Love the threads, dude,” the man said as they passed each other on the stage. “Have a good set.”
“I always do, thank you.” Silas stood in front of the microphone. The arena was twenty times the size of the club, and when he looked out at the sea of expectant faces, it was difficult to tell them apart in the blur of lights. But there was always one, and Silas wasn’t disappointed. There, in the back rows, someone was passing out hot food, or something similar. The rounded shoulders, the sad face—the woman’s aura spoke to Silas, and he smiled.
“Hey.” He held up his finger, as the crowd hushed, and the music started.
Silas began to sing. As his words filled the air, he could see the spell from his tree sweeping out, filling the arena, sharing the joys that came from simple things in a content life. He evoked memories of love, caring, of friendship, and smiles on a rainy day. And as he sang, the woman in the back who’d been carryingsuch a heavy load, brightened up, straightened up, and when she served her next customer, she smiled.
Three songs. That was it. Because the audience wasn’t used to him, Silas made that point as the notes of his last song drifted away. “That’s it, my friends. Have a blessed night.” And then he bowed, because it was Paris, and there were so many people, and they had been so lovely listening to him, but he barely noticed the thunderous applause as he walked off the stage and back into Dakata’s arms.
“You know Wanda, Dougal, and George are going to be expecting burgers,” he said happily. “Where should we get them, do you think?”
“Wherever you like. Do you realize how incredible you were out there?” Dakata looked a little stunned, but then maybe he’d had trouble with other solo singers before.