San Francisco
The Balorite high priest Darkwolf studied Sara, the warlock seer, who stood before him. Sara was brown-haired, slight of build, lovely, and she had a sweet jasmine scent. She wore snug jeans and a tight-fitting, low-cut shirt that molded her small but perfect breasts and gave him a fine view of her cleavage. Her brown eyes held a hint of something that made him wonder if she had her own agenda.
Beside Darkwolf, Elizabeth Black perched on the edge of the mahogany desk, her elegant legs crossed, her arms folded across her chest, and a scowl directed at Sara.
Darkwolf never forgot that inside Elizabeth’s beautiful shell resided a demon queen—Junga. And he never let her forget the sexual power he held over her. Just the thought of bringing this demon to her knees was heady. She was extraordinarily powerful, but it gave him incredible satisfaction that he knew her weakness—being sexually dominated.
Darkwolf, Sara, and the demon-woman were in the private library of a wealthy and influential man who had once owned the mansion they now used for their lair. After they had fled the abandoned building they had been using temporarily, Darkwolf had picked this location as the perfect place for the warlocks and Fomorii to use as their headquarters.
One of Junga’s demon underlings now controlled the wealthy former owner’s body, his shell. Junga ruled the Fomorii with such an iron will that none of the demons dared to defy her. She was queen, and Darkwolf had no doubt that not one of the remaining demons would even think of challenging her. They quavered when she was nearby and immediately took to whatever task she ordered them to perform.
The library smelled of leather, cherry pipe tobacco, and lemon oil. At his insistence, before they entered the home, the Fomorii had remained in their human forms, so he didn’t have to smell the demons’ rotten fish stench.
They’d been lucky the seer, Sara, had foretold the coming of the D’Danann and she had suggested this manor as their refuge. He couldn’t have asked for better accommodations than what they now commanded.
Elizabeth-Junga flicked a speck of lint off her clothing. She was of course wearing a fitted suit in her favorite color, blood red. And beneath that skirt—at his orders—he knew she wore only garters holding up her sheer stockings. Just the thought of her naked made him ache.
Elizabeth’s gaze immediately returned to the warlock seer. Darkwolf saw the jealousy in her eyes, and it almost made him smile. He wanted Sara, and Elizabeth knew it.
Darkwolf focused on the seer. He leaned his hip against the desk and crossed his arms over his chest. His blue T-shirt stretched taut with his movement. He wore black boots and faded blue jeans and his dark hair curled slightly at his nape. He was aware of everything, including how his looks and presence affected women.
The warlock seer’s gaze moved to the stone eye resting on his chest and he saw the hint of a smile curve the corner of her mouth. This one was special—she always seemed intrigued by the eye, rather than fearful.
Sara was new to his Clan, a former D’Anu apprentice he had seduced into his fold. Darkwolf had every intention of initiating her further by taking her, making her scream with her orgasm, and begging him to take her again. He took what he wanted, when he wanted, and made sure the women enjoyed every minute of it.
Darkwolf knew Sara wanted him, but he had drawn out the wait, intending to make her desire him so badly that when he finally took her it would be a moment beyond her wildest dreams.
The seer had been somewhat of a surprise. When he had first persuaded Sara to join his Clan, he had thought her to be somewhat meek. But she had proved to be a much stronger woman than he had anticipated, and she showed no fear of him or the demon queen. He found that intriguing—and arousing.
The stone eye at Darkwolf’s throat warmed and he sensed Balor’s presence in his mind. A sharp pain shot through his head as it often did from Balor’s intrusion and Darkwolf gritted his teeth. He never showed any outward emotion at the pain. He must always give the appearance of control, confidence, and dominance.
Ever since he had found the stone eye on the shores of Ireland, the ancient sea god’s essence had possessed Darkwolf, driving him to do the god’s bidding.
At times Darkwolf had flashes of his old life, when he was simply Kevin Richards, a white witch. And sometimes he wondered if there was a way to turn back time—a way to take off the eye and set himself free.
But no. That white witch was no more. Blood stained Darkwolf’s hands and dark sorcery stained his soul. Balor’s possession of him had changed his life forever.
“Tell me what you saw,” Darkwolf finally said, drawing himself back to the moment.
The stone eye against his chest began to glow deep red with Balor’s power and Sara smiled, almost as if she knew something about the god that Darkwolf didn’t.
“I saw the witches and the D’Danann.” Sara’s eyes appeared unfocused for a moment, as if she were recalling the images. “They found a piece of parchment at the place we just left.”
Sara paused and glanced at Elizabeth whose scowl deepened. The seer gave a smile that could almost have been described as catty. She returned her gaze to Darkwolf. “The parchment had a rectangle and a circle within a circle on it. Silver Ashcroft used her cauldron to scry, and I believe she learned a great deal of what you have planned.”
She tilted her head. “I also think she may have found clues to where we are—but nothing that would give us completely away. Not yet.”
The sharp pain in Darkwolf’s head intensified, but he ignored it. “Thank you, Sara.” He gave her his most sensual smile. “You will be rewarded well for your service to Balor.” Sara gave him a slight bow before her eyes met his again. Her tongue darted out to touch her lower lip. “Thank you, my lord.”
Every time she said my lord, he hardened. He reached out and took her small hands in his, keeping his gaze focused on hers. “I thank you,” he said, before drawing her fingers to his lips and kissing the knuckles of each hand. Sara’s eyes seemed to turn a deeper brown and her expression was more than seductive.
Sara cast a sly glance at Elizabeth who gave what sounded like a low growl. Darkwolf smiled at the woman’s—demon’s—jealousy.
“Return to your duties,” he told Sara, “and I trust that you will come to me the minute you have another vision.” Sara’s eyes held his for a moment. She gave a small bow of her head. “It is my pleasure to serve you in any way, my lord.”
With a final look into his eyes, she turned and walked out of the library. Darkwolf couldn’t resist watching the sway of her ass, the way the jeans molded her perfectly.
When Sara was gone, the library door closed with a thump as Darkwolf gave a flick of his fingers, using simple magic. For a moment he stared at the double doors. The stone eye against his chest cooled and the sharp pain in his head receded.
“Must you fuck everything that walks?” came Elizabeth’s voice from beside him.
He slowly turned to look at her, giving her a cool stare. “I fuck you, don’t I?”
Elizabeth literally growled, a fraction of her demon side coming through. Her fingers elongated into claws, her teeth grew longer and sharper, her voice deeper. “Watch what you say, warlock.”
Junga was far from intimidated by him. Except when it came to sex when she was in Elizabeth’s form. Then she took all that he dealt out to her. She couldn’t get enough of his sexual domination. She loved to be spanked, flogged, and reveled in other forms of sexual pain.
Except for sex, she was the proud warrior queen. She consistently went against his will. Despite his orders that for now they remain as low profile as possible, she insisted that her demons feed on human flesh and had them take over the shells of more influential, powerful people.
Darkwolf gave Elizabeth a dismissive wave. He knew her weaknesses, the power he held over her. He had no fear of the demon that resided within the beautiful woman’s shell. At times he thought about the fact that the woman he took was a hideous-looking demon when in her natural form, but he chose to ignore it and preferred to dwell on his ability to control her.
He kept his amusement from his expression as he rounded the desk and once again bent over the map of Otherworld and its barrier to Underworld. “The door.” He frowned. “Surely the Dark Elves will reach it soon.”
His gaze met Elizabeth’s. She had retracted her claws and her teeth returned to normal proportions. She was once again the bitchy but beautiful woman. “Do you—”
Elizabeth paused and the expression on her features shifted. Concern? Fear? “Do you think it wise to release creatures other than the Fomorii, and such a powerful being as Balor?”
Darkwolf managed to control his surprise and attempted to keep the god, Balor, from reading his thoughts. It would not do to have him mistrust Elizabeth when Darkwolf needed the queen. “Balor would not be pleased to hear what you’ve said.”
The Fomorii queen gave what could have been taken as a casual shrug, but he knew it was not so casual. “How do you know we will not all be destroyed by these beings?” She looked away from him for a moment before returning her gaze to his. “Will Balor sacrifice us in order to regain his rule?”
At this Darkwolf hardened his expression. “We serve Balor. We do as he commands through the essence in his eye. You know such a great god would not so casually strike down those who serve him.” He met Elizabeth’s gaze head-on and wouldn’t let it go. “Will you continue to serve him?”
“Of course.” Elizabeth pushed herself from the desk. “Are you certain he will grant the Dark Elves’ request for their part in finding the door?”
“Yes.” Darkwolf tossed the map aside. “Balor will not forget the Drow as long as they serve him well. He’ll allow them to live aboveground again, so that they can walk in sunlight.”
Elizabeth paused as if considering what he’d said. “When will the Drow king return?”
Darkwolf scowled. “We’re to meet him at the pier in two days’ time.”
Elizabeth clenched her fists—she had often expressed her distrust of the Dark Elves. “If the parchment with the symbols had not been lost, we would eventually have had them deciphered. Surely this Drow would have found us an interpreter.”
Anger flashed through Darkwolf and the pain in his head grew sharp enough that he could barely keep from wincing. The map keeper had paid with his life for losing that scrap of parchment. The lost paper had accidentally been torn from a page of a brittle, ancient spellbook.
Darkwolf had been directed to the spellbook when Balor first took over his body and mind in Ireland. He had found it in a cave so old and dank that it had been beyond eerie. He hadn’t known the importance of the parchment or spellbook until recently when Balor had revealed the information to him through his thoughts.
It was the drawing of the runes that, with the right ceremony, would open the door to Underworld. Not only would more Fomorii be freed, but other creatures that would answer to Balor.
The loss of the piece of parchment didn’t matter. Balor would tell him what they must do.
He hardened as he studied what was currently a beautiful woman standing beside the desk. Her black hair lay softly about her shoulders. It was easy to forget she was a demon—a hideous demon—within that shell. The fact that he could dominate her in this form gave him a sense of power that made him afire with it.
“Get over here,” he demanded.
Elizabeth gave him a fierce look. “You do not order me around, warlock.”
Darkwolf had to remind her who was in control. He strode over to her. Immediately he palmed her full breasts. He knew the moment he touched her in her Elizabeth shell, she would give in to his dominance.
Elizabeth tilted her head back and moaned. At Darkwolf’s command the demon-woman unbuttoned her fitted suit jacket and tossed it aside, baring her breasts as she wore no bra, something that he insisted upon and that she enjoyed.
After dropping her skirt to the floor, she was naked save for the garters, stockings, and high heels. She was a goddess in Elizabeth’s form, her naked body near perfection.
Darkwolf smiled at the expression of subservience she now wore.
Control and dominance. That was the key to keeping every being within his power in line.