Demon's Kiss by V. J. Devereaux Page A

striking flint against steel to make a spark that gives birth
to flame, which also gives light and heat in its turn. So does magic work,” he
said. “If for good, then it adds, like flour, water and yeast make bread. If
for ill, then it’s like the leak in a dam, draining away energy and life.”
    Asmodeus looked into the shadows around them and the men hidden
within and said, “I doubt they know Templeton feeds off them in his own way,
although not as I do you. He feeds off all of them nonetheless, diminishing
them. He would need many more men to be able to do more than he has. I suspect
it takes the energy of all these to simply hold me.”
    “You’ve tried to escape,” she said, a simple statement of
fact.
    “Many times, my angel,” Asmodeus said grimly. “If nothing
else, to drain their energy as much as possible and to keep it drained so he
cannot achieve that aim of bringing my brothers here, and in hopes of my own
escape.”
    Bitterly, he held up an arm, shook it, as if to free his
wrist from the iron bracelet. “So long as I wear these though, I cannot get
far. They are as much chains as the one on my ankle. Cold iron, which grounds
me and holds me here bespelled by Templeton to bind me to him.”
    The chafing of the iron had faded as he grew accustomed to
it, although so long as it touched his skin it would continue to pain him. But
it had grown easier to bear.
    He looked at her.
    “So,” he said, “in your own way, my angel, you have magic
too. Your magic is healing, but it is all of society that you heal, using your
magic whether you know it or not to follow the path that is yours, of righting
wrongs, of bringing those who would do ill to justice. And, on a smaller scale,
to heal the pain of those who have been wounded, by being their warrior,
fighting for them where they cannot. That is the path that is truest to your
heart.”

Chapter Four
     
    Awakening, it was oddly surreal for Gabriel to find herself
lying next to a long, deliciously hard body—Asmodeus, a gorgeous, incredibly
sexy demon. The Demon of Lust. That thought made her smile, thinking of his
touch, of the incredible feel of him, despite the memory of what had come after
that particular revelation.
    Not much less surreal though was finding herself in this
situation at all. It was so bizarre.
    Yet, despite the circumstances, she found herself strangely
content, complete, as if a piece of the puzzle inside her that had always been
missing had finally been found.
    Asmodeus lay curled against her back, his body intensely
warm, his legs and tail twined about her. He held her loosely but protectively
in his arms, with one curled across her stomach. One thing was certain, she’d never
be cold as long as he was there.
    Idly, curiously, she played carefully with the iron bracelet
around his wrist, only now noticing that the skin beneath it was chafed and
irritated, inflamed. It looked painful, which pained her. It had to ache nearly
constantly. She turned it, examined it, holding some of it away from his skin
where she could. It looked as if the damn thing was welded in place. How had
they gotten it on? They had to have pinned him to the floor with the power of
the Book as they had when they had whipped him.
    Her stomach churned at the memory. She took a breath and
willed the memory away.
    How would they get it off? There had to be a way. She looked
over her shoulder at Asmodeus. His incredible beauty still caught at her,
shocked her. It always would, she knew.
    She longed to skim her fingers over one sculpted cheekbone,
to run them through the smooth silk of his hair. To her amazement, she suddenly
noticed that his ears were pointed. How had she missed that? In wonder,
forgetful of the circumstances, she shifted a little to curl her arm back to
run her finger over the curve of it.
    She hid a smile until she realized Asmodeus’ luminous eyes
were open, that he watched her. A shot of excitement raced through her as his
eyes warmed and