Page 20 of Demon's Cruel Desire
"You won’t," I say with unwavering conviction. "Because deep down, you feel the pull of this inevitability as strongly as I do. It’s not merely attraction—it’s a binding force."
Her stance is relaxed, but her eyes are alive, sharp, assessing every word. "You assume a lot, Dagon."
"I know a lot," I correct her firmly. We’re almost chest to chest, and I’m close enough to feel the heaviness of her breathing and watch her chest quickly rise and fall. "I know this is right."
She pauses, her lips parting slightly as if to contest, but then she closes them, a slight nod acknowledging my point. "You don’t leave much room for dissent."
I soften slightly, dropping my hand. "It’s not about leaving room. It’s about seeing the truth. And the truth is, we’re fucking inevitable, Callista."
Her eyes lock onto mine, intense and full of life. "You're overwhelming," she admits, but her voice is steady, strong—not weakened, but acknowledging the force of my nature.
"That’s because my conviction is strong," I reply, my voice lowering to a husky whisper. "I don’t just want you—I fucking need you. And I believe you need this too."
She takes a deep breath, then exhales slowly, a small smile curving her lips. "There's no arguing with you, is there?"
"Not on this," I agree, a smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth. "So, do we understand each other?"
"Yes, Dagon," she says, her voice tinged with a newfound warmth, accepting the inevitable not with resignation, but with a quiet acceptance of the passion and certainty I offer. "I understand."
18
CALLISTA
The air is thick with the scent of incense as I stand beside Dagon in the dimly lit chamber, the flicker of torches casting long shadows across the stone walls. His presence is commanding as his large, muscular arms brush against mine. My heart races at the gravity of what I’m promising him today. Me in my entirety.
I glance up at Dagon, his features etched with the brooding gruffness that is so much a part of his allure. Despite his propensity to be an asshole, bordering on cruel, my heart thrums with an unyielding affection for him. He's a demon, powerful and feared, and yet, here he stands, ready to bind his life to a human he once thought beneath him.
“Are you ready?” he asks. The deep timbre of his voice reverberates in my chest.
When he made his declaration that I would be his mate, I was unprepared, thinking that he was going to force me. But the more I turned it over in my head, the more right it felt.
I guess in a way I’ve always belonged to him from the first day he took me.
“I’m more than ready,” I say with a smile. My voice is husky and low making him smirk at me, those crimson eyes, warming my entire core.
We both turn our attention back to the front as the ritual begins. The demons in attendance are chanting something I don’t quite understand, and it makes me feel uneasy and very aware of my humanness standing here before them. But with Dagon at my side, a sense of safety settles over me.
I glance at him, his towering presence both intimidating and familiar. His dark, brooding eyes are fixed on me, a hint of the storm that always seems to swirl just beneath his surface.
I remember the first day he cornered me, the rough way he pressed me up against the wall in his house, his large, commanding hand encircling my throat. He had asked for my name, his voice a low rumble of danger and intrigue. Even now, the memory makes me clench my thighs
As we stand before the ancient demon who presides over our bonding, Dagon shifts slightly, his hand brushing mine. His fingers are capable of such delicate tenderness and brutal control, a duality that I've come to crave. The darkness in him that once sparked fear now ignites a fire within me.
"Dagon," I whisper, turning slightly to face him amidst the ritual. Our eyes lock, and there's a silent understanding that passes between us, a mutual recognition of the journey we've endured to stand here together.
He leans closer, his breath warm against my cheek. "Callista," he murmurs back, the sound of my name on his lips sends a shudder through me.
"From the moment you took me, I've battled with the reality of what we are, what this means."
"And what have you decided we are, Callista?"
His question hangs in the air, and for a moment, I lose myself in the depths of his dark eyes. "We are an inevitability," I reply. "We are the chaos of the storm and the peace of the aftermath."
When the ceremony reaches its peak, the elder calls upon us to seal our vows with a token of our bond. Dagon reaches into his cloak, producing a small, intricately carved box. He opens it to reveal two rings, forged from the rarest metals on Galmoleth.
As he slides the ring onto my finger, his other hand lightly caresses the nape of my neck, fingertips pressing just enough to remind me of that first potent encounter. My breath hitches, and I'm transported back to the alley, to the fear and exhilaration, the beginning of everything.
"Who do you belong to?" Dagon's voice is a whisper now, filling the chamber, heavy with authority and desire.