He lifted his head to look at me, one hand toying with the laces of my pants. “Do you wish to leave these on?”
I smiled down at him, silently marveling at the smooth muscle, the perfection of his body. I didn’t know what he was, but at this point it didn’t matter. He’d dishonored me by his initial compulsion of me and was repaying that small debt of honor by giving me the solace and release that an attentive partner could give. The irony wasn’t lost on me that the end result was awfully similar, but the crucial difference was that this way the choice was mine to make.
I laughed. “No, I do not.”
He tugged my pants down and off in one smooth motion, then pulled away from me just long enough to slide his own boots and breeches off, eyes flashing in what I almost thought was triumph. He returned to cover me, his deep eyes holding mine for just a moment. Then, with a sound that bordered on a growl, he slid into me. I threw my head back as he filled me, giving a shuddering moan as the heat rose between us. I rocked my hips up to his, meeting his steady thrusts.
He kissed me hungrily as he drove into me, groaning against my lips. I returned the kiss eagerly as I clung tightly to him, nails digging as my climax built. His muscles were like malleable iron beneath my hands, rippling with each driving thrust.
My climax exploded, shocking me with its depth and duration—stronger than anything I’d ever experienced before. I cried out and clutched at him as he let out a guttural snarl, emptying into me, grinding his hips into mine. I continued to lift my hips to his as he released. Finally he slowed, then stopped, his breathing deep and heavy.
He rolled to the side and wrapped his arms around me. I sighed and pillowed my head against him.
“I don’t even know who you are,” I said after a moment, looking up at him.
He stroked a finger down the line of my jaw, expression unreadable. “Your call was not for me.”
I shook my head. “No. I was trying to call a luhrek. Rysehl.”
A strange smile quirked his lips, then he kissed me lightly and stood. Baffled, I sat up and stared at him as he dressed.
“Wait,” I said, finding my voice. “Please. Who are you? I mean, I was trying to call Rysehl, but you obviously aren’t Rysehl, and I didn’t mean to call … whoever you are. So, what … er, who are you?” I realized I was babbling, and I clamped my mouth shut.
His eyes met mine, and once again the power in them took my breath away. “I am Rhyzkahl,” he said, giving me an enigmatic smile. “And, Kara Gillian, you may call me whenever you need me.”
Then he was gone.
I STARED AT MY REFLECTION IN THE MIRROR. I WAS not a beautiful woman. I knew that. I was by no means unattractive and I did my best to keep my figure in shape, but I was usually referred to as “cute,” sometimes “pretty,” occasionally “quite appealing,” but almost never “beautiful,” unless it was someone who wanted something from me. I had boring-brown hair that refused to take any sort of curl, dark gray eyes that refused to be hazel or blue-gray or even sparkling, legs that were about three inches shorter than I would have liked for them to be, and an insistent little layer of pudge at the top of my jeans. Not beautiful.
So why had it happened? Why was I still alive? I was too realistic to think that my charm and beauty and sexuality had swayed a creature of that much power from rending me to shreds or keeping me for a plaything to be tormented at his leisure. And why seduce me?
Reality had crashed in on me seconds after he vanished from my basement summoning chamber, and I’d wallowed in a full-blown freak-out for nearly an hour, indulging in plenty of self-loathing and heaping servings of crippling doubt. I’d finally gone to bed, but sleep had been elusive.
Two enormous issues kept battling with each other in my head over which was worth stressing out about more. First was the matter of what the fuck went wrong? It had been a simple summoning. A fucking fourth-level summoning! And Rysehl was a demon that I’d summoned dozens of times before. After I’d calmed somewhat, I walked around the diagram, obsessively checking every sigil and rune that I’d sketched out, looking for any deviation, any smudge or change that could have altered the portal, and finding nothing to explain what had happened.
But this creature had said his name was Rhyzkahl. Had I mispronounced “Rysehl”? Somehow garbled the word? I cast my mind back over the summoning, the ritual, over and over until it was all little more than a jumbled blur. I thought I said it right. The names are close, but not that close.
I felt as if someone had pulled the floor out from under me. I thought I knew what I was doing. I thought I was good at this. I shuddered and scrubbed at my face, struggling to push away the aching doubt.