Raising Hell: A Spicy MMM Novella, page 3
Defiant, I stare up… and up… and up, until I meet the eyes of the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen in my life. Language abandons me as I take in the pale skin that covers his defined, lean muscles, his obsidian eyes, and sinful smirk. Then my gaze travels higher and catches on the thick head of raven hair that shines red in the fading lights. Two slightly curved horns poke through the locks, no more than six inches long.
When I catch his gaze once more, he has an eyebrow hiked as he watches me with open curiosity. “Who… who are you? What are you?” I finally force out, my voice raspy and strained in my confusion.
He’s sleek like a jungle cat, movements graceful and eyes curious. His head tilts in a very feline expression as he moves a hand to his chin, rubbing over his square jaw as he says, “I’m the one who shall ask questions right now.”
“Wha… what questions?”
A giant, radiant smile illuminates his stunning face, but there’s an undertone of malice to it that unsettles me further. “Why have you summoned me, human?”
Chapter 4
Casimir
Out of all the ways I had envisioned spending my Friday afternoon, being summoned to the human realm was not at the top of my list. Hell, it wasn’t even on my list. There I was, in my hot tub, minding my own business, when the unmistakable pull of a summon started tingling over my skin.
Now, demons get a bad rap, but it’s not our fault, okay?
Witches have used us since the dawn of time, forcing us to carry out their nefarious schemes that, sure, might be fun sometimes. But we don’t have a choice!
Sue us for making the best of the situation.
As the years passed, witch bloodlines have slowly been bred out of existence, which means fewer and fewer demons are being summoned. These days, the majority of us are left to our own devices.
Anyone who says Hell is an awful place to live has obviously never visited. It’s like going to New Orleans, except the accents are better and the canals are filled with hellfyre instead of ocean water. And, y’know, red clouds and lightning rather than warm afternoon breezes in the sunshine. Then there’s the stifling hundred-and-thirty-degree summers… oh, and we can’t forget the occasional hex tornado.
I’m getting off track here.
Listen, humans obviously have the superior atmosphere, and none of us are ever complaining about the opportunity to visit above ground. But we make the best of it. We have a booming economy in Hell, and the Lucifer that’s currently in office is a decent guy. He even gave tax cuts to those that get summoned and passed a law that requires a demon’s job to remain available once they’ve been released from their witch’s contract.
Solid dude for the working man.
Now, back to my original point—summoning. Doesn’t happen much these days, and until today, I’ve never experienced it. Witchcraft is falling to the wayside as magic is bred out of humans, but a few large, important families have worked hard to preserve their magical heritage.
Demons are taught who they are and what they’re likely to have us do from a young age. We study them and their history so we can be prepared if it happens. Most of the time, it’s one of them that calls on us to do their bidding, but occasionally you get a surprise.
I stare at the mousy red-haired man in front of me, trembling and stammering, pale enough that I’m convinced he might pass out if I were to say “Boo.” Eyes the size of saucers are wide and scared but hold steady on mine.
He’s a surprise.
Finding I’ve been summoned by a warlock is even more surprising, because witch bloodlines almost always pass to female descendants. Historically, warlocks are bloodthirsty, vicious creatures, but this one is…
Well, he’s terrified.
Honestly, the evil laugh as I passed through the portal was probably overkill, but this is my first time. The popping of my summoning cherry, if you will. I wanted to make it memorable, you know?
Something to tell stories about later.
Slap into a scrapbook.
“Who… who are you? What are you?” he stammers, his voice soft and confused, and for a second, my face wrinkles up like I’m looking at a baby hellcat. He’s so… stinking… cute!
When I remember I’m supposed to be taking this seriously, I force my expression back into a smirk. We demons have a reputation to uphold, after all. “I’m the one who shall ask questions right now.” Oh, dear Satan, it is hard to keep a straight face.
I never was good at improv.
His green eyes get even wider, and I come close to losing my composure again because I just want to fucking squeeze him. I bet he’s so soft. “Wha… what questions?” he asks, and this time I can’t help my smile.
“Why have you summoned me, human?”
“Summoned you?” he squeaks, his fingers digging into the spellbook that he hugs against his chest. “I didn’t summon you!”
My grin has just a touch of sarcasm as I glance at the drawing under my feet that holds me in place. “No?”
“No!”
“Alright… humor me. Explain why there is a summoning circle on the floor.”
“That’s not a… a… summoning circle! That’s a rune.”
Oh, wow, okay, he’s like… new, new. “Same thing.”
“No, it… isn’t.” His voice is as weak as his argument as my grin spreads even wider. Suddenly, his eyes narrow and his pointer finger jabs into my chest. “Don’t laugh at me!”
My hands fly up in surrender, still grinning as his cheeks flush in anger. “No harm meant, Red.”
“Rory,” he mutters. When I quirk my brow, he explains, “My name is Rory, not Red.”
“Right, okay… so, Rory. Care to explain why I’m here?”
His fingers pull into a fist at his side as he grows even more flustered. He steals a quick glance at my naked body, chirping a mouse-like squeak as his eyes snap back up to meet mine. My smile is hurting my cheeks at this point, because this is delightful. “I didn’t mean to… summon you. This wasn’t my intention.”
“What was your intention, if not to call me to this realm?"
A deeper shade of petal pink paints his cheeks as he looks away. “Doesn’t matter… this wasn’t it, so you can go.” He nods, like he’s made some sort of grand decision. “Yes, that’s it. You may go now.” His hand waves through the air, dismissing me with the flick of his wrist.
“Oh, sweetheart, I’m afraid it’s not that simple.”
His eyes fly back to mine, narrowed and suspicious. Panicked, but trying to hide it. “What do you mean ‘isn’t that simple’?”
“Well,” I say, dragging the word out as I reach for him and twist one of his pretty red curls around my finger. A peculiar mix of a squawk and a honk leaves him as he lurches backward, and my hand hits the barrier of the summoning circle. “You are the witch… er, warlock who summoned me. It’s your spell that brought me here, and only your spell can return me home.”
He sputters, clearly in the dark about all of this. “But I don’t know how to send you back!”
“Can you at least let me out of this circle? No spell needed for that; you just have to speak permission for me to leave.”
“Absolutely not!” he shouts, his wide eyes finding mine again. “You might… do… things!”
Another grin slides across my face. “What sort of things might I do?” I purr, and he flushes deeper.
“Demon things!” he exclaims, gesturing up my body.
I give him a contemplative hum. “I’m going to need specifics here. What exactly do you know about demons?”
His shoulders droop as his eyes fall to the floor, and a wave of sympathy hits me as he mumbles, “Nothing. I don’t know anything about demons... about any of this.”
“Then why’d you do it?” I ask, gentle.
He sniffles, and I’m glad he’s looking down because my face would betray me in a heartbeat. The way my lip pokes out at his sadness definitely contradicts the tough guy persona I’m trying to maintain. “I’m so tired of things not going my way,” he whispers, before averting his eyes like he’s embarrassed.
“Does someone need a hug?” He freezes, unnaturally still for a squirmy human. “Oh, come on, Rory. I don’t bite… unless you want me to.” He lets out a strangled cough at my cheeky wink, and I grin again. There’s a touch against my ankle, and I glance down to find a cat rubbing against me.
A CAT!
“Aww, and who are you?” I coo, crouching and running my fingers through the soft black fur. Completely forgetting myself, my voice gets higher pitched as I squeal. “Oh, my GOD, I have never gotten to pet a cat before! Is it always so… so… fluffy?”
Rory turns and faces me with a frown, and I’m smiling like a maniac as I look up at him. His brows furrow before he glances down, jerking his head to the side with another of those adorable squeaks, and I follow his gaze.
Oh, right. My lack of clothes means my cock hangs between my thighs, and I breathe out a soft laugh at his bashfulness. “Could you put some clothes on?” he hisses, and my laugh turns indignant.
“You were the one that summoned me!” I argue, standing again and picking the cat up with me, not willing to stop petting it. Crossing my arms, I neither confirm nor deny that I push my hips out on purpose. Or that I give a little wiggle, hoping to draw his eye back. “I was enjoying a lazy afternoon in my hot tub, so it’s not my fault I’m here in the nude!”
Now, could I summon clothing? Absolutely. Many of my demon powers work fine in the human realm, as long as they mean no harm to my master. But he doesn’t need to learn that little piece of information yet.
Not while I’m having fun.
“Hot tub?” he cries, incredulously. “I’m over here having a goddamned existential breakdown, and you’re just skinny dipping in your fucking jets?”
My eyes widen at his outburst, and I dig my fingers deeper into the cat’s fur. This shit is calming. “Want to talk about it?”
For a few seconds, he breathes heavily, his chest rising and falling until his eyes slowly shift back towards me. “No, I don’t want to talk about it! Talking about it already made me cuss!” That’s… different. I cock my head at the statement, but he stomps his foot and distracts me again. “I want my cat.”
“Come get it,” I tease, hugging the rumbling creature to my chest.
“Give me my cat!” he screams, and the power zings through my body, hit with the compulsion to do as he commands. I fight it for just a split-second longer.
“Want me to bring it to you?”
Frustration gets the better of him and he scoffs, shaking his head as he takes the bait. “Yes, just… just bring her to me!”
The moment the words are out of his mouth, I feel the binds of the summoning circle release me, and I take a tentative step forward. Realization dawns on his face as soon as he sees me move, and then it’s replaced with terror.
I won’t lie—that shit stings a little.
Generally speaking, I’m a nice guy. Demons have feelings too, you know, and mine are now bruised.
I give the cat another head scratch before stepping directly in front of him. Tempted as I am to keep the purring creature, it’s the first direct command he’s given me, so I don’t fight the compulsion any longer.
I hand the cat over and he struggles to hold it along with the spell book, hugging both to his chest. For a long second, we just stare at each other, until a splitting grin tears across my face. “Freedom!” I bellow, turning and bolting down the stairs towards the daylight.
Chapter 5
Rory
Oh, no.
For a split second, I stare at that perky, toned ass as it flexes, and god above, that’s a beautiful sight. It’s like watching a marble carving run, except there’s giggling involved. My distraction dissipates at the cackles that ring up the stairwell, and reality hits me with the force of a sledgehammer as I grasp what’s happening.
He’s running away.
He’s… leaving.
The spellbook thuds to the ground as I yelp, Shadow’s claws digging into my skin as I sprint after the fleeing demon. He takes the steps two at a time, swinging his head back and forth in search of an escape when he reaches the bottom.
He’s so fast he’s almost a blur, and I’m no match for him in speed. Panic rolls through my body as his eyes land on the door, and I shriek, “Do NOT leave this house!”
I stumble off the stairs, skidding around the corner to find him standing in the open doorway with his hands on the frame. Light wraps around his fit, very naked physique, streams of sunlight playfully dancing on his toned thighs and defined shoulders.
“Ahhh, sun,” he moans, tilting his face towards the sky as his entire body relaxes. “This feels even better than I imagined.”
My mouth hangs open as I stomp over, grabbing his forearm and trying to pull him back into the house, but he barely budges. “You can’t stand here with no clothes,” I hiss, tugging his arm again. He gives in, rotating to partially face me, his attention now split between me and the outside world.
Ceramic shatters as I jump and look through the door to see old Mrs. Hickory standing in her yard, gawking. “Oh, fudge monkeys,” I mutter, turning and slapping at the demon’s chest. “What did I just say?! You can’t stand there naked!”
“Why not?” He looks genuinely confused, while my neighbor looks like she’s in the midst of a heart attack.
“Because!” I shriek, reaching over and attempting to shield his ridiculously large penis with my hand. Why I thought it would help, I have no idea. It only covers half of him because he’s too big for my slender hands to be worth much, so I end up awkwardly twisting my wrist, searching for a better angle in vain. “It isn’t what we do up here!”
He shifts his hips, the weighty length of his cock thumping against my palm as I flush from the top of my scalp to the tips of my toes. “S-s-sorry, Mrs. Hickory, my… friend here isn’t, uh, feeling well.” Another swing of his hips has his dick slapping against my hand again, and he throws his head back in an obnoxious cackle.
She dips her glasses further down her nose and openly stares over the top of them. “Looks like he’s feeling pretty good to me,” she says, and I’m ready for the ground to open up and swallow me whole.
I whirl to face him, my anger reaching its breaking point. “Inside, now!” His smirk fades and his posture turns ramrod straight as he nods and backs into the house, allowing me to close the door behind us. He watches me in curiosity, like I’m the spectacle here, then leans against the counter and crosses his ankles, all calm and casual-like.
My traitorous gaze falls to his groin, where his half-erect cock rests against his thigh, and I suppress a frustrated sigh at my body’s response.
Because, damn.
“Do you have any soda?” he asks, and it distracts me from his dick as I find myself once again blinking in confusion.
“What?”
“Soda. People keep saying that if I am ever summoned to the human realm, I must experience soda. Doctor something or other. Peeper? Pet… peck…”
“Pepper,” I offer weakly, pinching at the bridge of my nose as a headache threatens my temples. Could this day get any weirder?
“That’s it! Do you have the Doctor Pepper?”
“I…” I shake my head, unable to tear my eyes away from this powerful and probably lethal creature, bouncing around with the enthusiasm of a puppy, all for a sip of sweetness. “Yeah,” I finally relent, wandering to the fridge in a daze.
I hand over the can and he scrutinizes it, turning it over so he can look from all angles and tapping his finger against the top. He’s confused—that much is abundantly clear—and far too proud to ask for help. Frustrated, I snatch it back, popping the top open as joy lights his eyes.
“The things humans create without magic,” he mutters, fascinated, as he raises it to his lips and takes a tentative sip. “Oooh ho!” he shouts, eyes round as he stares at the still-fizzing can. “No wonder demons want to come up here. This Doctor is incredible. Tell me, does it cure ailments?”
I snort, unable to help myself. “No, it definitely does not.” He upturns the drink, guzzling the cold, bubbly liquid as I wince. “You might want to slow down and be care-”
Triumphant grin in place, he crushes the empty can in a fist. His eyes widen even more, and a sense of alarm overtakes him as he pounds his fist on his chest, his lips clamped shut and cheeks puffing out. His face contorts and skin reddens until a thunderous, rattling burp rushes out. He stands there, mouth agape, staring at the crushed can in his hand. “What is this?” he demands, his distress clear as he looks at me. “Have you poisoned me, Rory?”
The betrayal in his eyes, combined with the absurdity of the situation, causes an involuntary giggle to escape from my throat. Before I can respond, I’m laughing louder, bending over and resting my hands on my knees. The sexiest man I’ve ever seen… scratch that, the sexiest demon I’ve ever seen… stands in my kitchen, naked as can be, convinced I poisoned him with a soda.
How’s your Friday going?
“What...” I stammer, my laughter making it impossible to form coherent words. “Who are you?” I finally manage, tears flooding my eyes as I crack up.
“Name’s Casimir.” He still watches me with caution. Another quiet burp bubbles out of him and he glares at the can in his grasp. “Are you sure you didn’t poison me?”
“Positive,” I say, wiping a tear from the corner of my eye as he sits the annihilated can on the countertop.
“Well, you may call me Cas.”
“And you’re a demon? That I… summoned?”
“It would…” Another small burp, followed by a grimace. “… appear that way.”
“Alright… and you’re here… to do what?”
He shrugs, casual and one-armed like it’s no big deal. Like having a demon in my kitchen is just some everyday, normal occurrence. “From what I understand, I have to do whatever you ask of me until you release me from your service.”
