The Summoning

The Great Library of Aethelgard Coven had a habit of giving people books they hadn't asked for. Tonight, it seemed to have something particular in mind for Jane.

The book sat on a shelf in the Restricted Annex, occupying a space she was certain had been empty yesterday. It was bound in dark crimson leather, with neither title nor author's name. A serpent coiled around a lotus on the cover, and the whole thing felt faintly warm when she picked it up.

"Well, aren't you suspicious," Jane told it. The book did nothing, which was encouraging.

Jane had precisely twenty-eight days left of her medical fellowship before assuming her permanent appointment as a Coven healer. Her research was exemplary, her clinical record impeccable. At twenty-nine, she had published four papers on reconstructive spellwork, developed a treatment for necrotic hex injuries, and once corrected the Chief Healer's surgical technique in front of an entire operating theatre.

She had also eaten the same breakfast every morning for three years. Lately, she had begun to suspect that her life was painfully predictable. The book, however, promised something new.

To begin, it was in ancient Xylothian, explaining its place in the Restricted Annex. During the wars between demons and humans, its verbs had been deliberately altered to carry contradictory meanings -- a simple and clever trick to confuse the enemy.

Jane found this deeply impractical. And irresistible.

She spent two hours consulting a lexicon and three grammar tables, growing increasingly convinced that ancient demons had been insufferable bastards. By closing time, she had deciphered a single spell with no verbs at all. She took it for a restorative invocation; several roots suggested regeneration, bodily satisfaction, and optimal restoration of the missing. Extensive footnote offered little help.

Demonic healing remained a blind spot in Coven medicine. Centuries of interspecies hostility had left much of its history undocumented, and demons were notoriously protective of their techniques. An authentic Xylothian restorative spell would be a valuable addition to her research. Jane signed out the book and took it to her quarters.

Her apartment was small but comfortable, furnished with a soft bed, a fireplace, and one too many bookshelves. An enchanted training dummy occupied one corner, its artificial arm afflicted with a simulated necrotic lesion. She cleared her desk, checked the invocation against her notes, and established a containment ward around the dummy. She was not irresponsible. She was, however, sufficiently curious to overlook the fact that she was confident in only about sixty percent of the translation.

"Right," she murmured, raising her hand. "Let's see what you do."

She spoke the dozen Xylothian words, carefully enunciating each syllable. There was a sharp crack, followed by a rush of hot air. The containment ward flashed crimson. The training dummy toppled sideways.

A man appeared in the middle of the ward. A naked man. A naked, dripping-wet, angry man.

For several seconds, neither of them moved. Water trickled down his chest, over his cock, and pooled around his bare feet. Jane starred. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair and golden eyes fixed on her in the murderous disbelief of someone whose perfectly pleasant evening had just been ruined.

"What the fuck?"

Jane opened her mouth. Nothing came out.

"Are you fucking mute?" He snatched the coverlet from her bed and wrapped it around his waist. "I was in the bath literally seconds ago!"

"I thought I was casting a restorative spell," she mumbled, her voice small.

"You clearly thought wrong." His golden eyes swept the room before settling on the book. He strode towards her desk, breaking through the containment ward with an ease. The coverlet slipped, exposing the firm, bare curve of his ass. Jane's mouth went dry. He snatched the book from the desk and flipped through its pages until he found the spell she had deciphered. He then let out a short, disbelieving bark of laughter that quickly swelled into genuine amusement.

"Oh, this is excellent."

Jane felt herself growing cold.

"What?"

He turned the book toward her.

"Tell me, dear. Did you happen to know that demon verbs tend two have several meanings?"

"Of course," Jane replied stiffly. "But there are no verbs in this spell."

He tapped a word on the page. "Then what's this?"

"Healing," she said confidently.

He grinned. "That's not a noun, darling. It's an imperative."

Jane frowned. "An imperative to do what?"

"To summon whoever can give you the greatest pleasure." His grin widened. "Apparently, I'm the best lay you could find in the entire world. I've always been confident in my abilities, but it's nice to have written confirmation."

Jane looked at the book, then at him. Her face turned scarlet. The library hadn't given her a secret healing spell. It had decided she needed to get laid.

"Oh."

"Oh, indeed."

He let the coverlet drop. "Let's get this over with." His golden eyes held hers as his cock stirred, hardening beneath her gaze. Jane swallowed, caught between the urge to look away and the far more troubling urge to keep staring.

"It's a mistake," She stammered, forcing herself to take a step back. "I never wanted to call on you. I'm sorry. You can... you can just go."

"I cannot 'just go,'" he emphasized, his voice dropping an octave. He stepped closer, the heat radiating off his body like a furnace. "You summoned me. Until the purpose of the spell is fulfilled, I am anchored here."

"I'm sorry," Jane said, her voice trembling. "I will get my advisor right away, she will figure out the best way to break the link." She sounded less certain with every word.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm probably the first demon you've ever met." He stepped closer, the scent of cedar and musk filling her senses. "You priests spend your lives tucked away in your covens, coddled and pampered. You hardly mingle with demons. And frankly, I suspect we'd all prefer to keep it that way."

He glanced outside the window and she noticed his eyes widened a bit before returning his attention to her. "I'm not waiting a month in this dusty room while your advisor figures out whether he--"

"She," Jane corrected automatically.

"--she can even undo the spell," he continued without missing a beat. "I'll make you come, and then we can go our merry ways. You're attractive. I'm attractive. Flower, I fail to see the problem."

Jane felt a surge of treacherous heat was beginning to bloom between her legs. He took another step, his bare cock now brushing her thigh. "Don't 'flower' me," she scoffed, forcing herself to meet his eyes. "And the answer is still no. I cannot... My charm just expired." The last words came out with considerably less conviction than the first.

The man's brows furrowed. He paused, his gaze softening slightly. "Little flower, I can make you come without so much as taking my dick out."

Jane glared at him. "Your dick is already out."

His grin widened. "There she is." He pressed closer, the tip of his cock twitching against her as his voice dropped to a persuasive purr. "Tell me you're not curious. I'm experienced, and I'd love to find out whether this compatibility spell knows what it's talking about. And I promise--no demon babies."

Jane dropped her gaze, her heart hammering against her ribs. She glanced towards the door. She could scream or trigger the emergency bell. She should. But he was distractingly handsome, and she was so bored. All her life, she'd been the perfect student, daughter, and priestess, following a future so predictable she could recite it by heart. Now, for once, something unexpected had landed right in front of her.

She wanted the thrill. She wanted the experience. And, embarrassingly, she wanted him. Slowly, she turned to face him.

Sensing her agreement, the demon wasted no time. He crossed to the fireplace and added another log to the embers. The flames caught with a soft roar, bathing the room in golden light. He spread the coverlet over the rug, then turned back to her with a smile.

"Still with me, little flower?"

"Stop calling me that," Jane muttered. His grin softened. He slipped his arms around her waist, drawing her close until the warmth of his skin seeped through her clothes. Jane caught her breath.

"Breathe," he murmured, brushing his lips against hers before kissing her. She stiffened in surprise, but the hesitation lasted only a heartbeat before curiosity overcame her instinct to pull away. His lips were softer than she'd expected, yet firm and confident. When his tongue grazed hers, a sharp jolt of pleasure shot straight to her clitoris. He tasted of cinnamon and something metallic.

His hands began to wander, slipping beneath her robes, his palms rough and warm against her skin. He gripped her hips and drew her closer, pressing his erection against her as his lips traced her jaw and descended to her neck. Jane let out a shaky moan, her head tipping back almost instinctively, exposing more of her throat.

He eased her out of her clothes, his gaze lingering on each newly revealed inch with unmistakable appreciation. Then he guided her down onto the bedcover before the fire, where the flickering orange light played across her pale skin.

"You are exquisite," he murmured.

He descended slowly, his lips skimming the ridge of her collarbone. His tongue traced the hollow of her throat, and Jane shuddered at the damp glide against her skin. When his mouth reached the swell of her breast, she sucked in a sharp breath. He circled her nipple with his tongue, tracing deliberate loops that made her stomach clench. Her fingers twisted in the bedcover as she struggled to suppress the small sounds escaping her. Then he drew the hardened peak into his mouth and sucked. Jane jerked, her back arching off the cover as a gasp escaped her. Her thighs tensed, and her fingers clenched around the fabric.

"You're shaking," the demon murmured, his voice a low rumble against her skin.

"Oh, shut up," Jane muttered, catching the back of his head and pulling his mouth back to her nipple.

She felt his smile against her. His large, warm hands slid down her torso, tracing the curve of her ribs before settling on her thighs. He eased her legs apart, his palms gliding over the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. The roughness of his hands against her softness sent a shiver through her, and her hips tilted towards him of their own accord, seeking a touch she had only ever imagined.

"Oh--" she gasped, her fingers tangling in his dark hair.

Jane caught her breath as he lowered his head. The first brush of his tongue against her clitoris sent a jolt through her, sharp enough to make her back arch off the rug. Her thighs tensed, then trembled, her fingers tightening in his hair as she struggled to catch her breath. Heat pooled low in her belly, spreading through her in dizzying waves.

He seemed intent on learning every nuance of her response. His hands rested firmly against her thighs, his thumbs stroking her skin as he varied his rhythm, drawing out the sensation until Jane could scarcely think past it. Each time she began to settle, he changed his approach, leaving her breathless, her hips shifting restlessly against the rug, chasing the next spark of pleasure.

"Please," she whispered, her voice breaking into a helpless little moan. "Don't tease me."

He chuckled against her skin, the low vibration sending shivers through her. His fingers gently parted her, and his middle finger brushed against her entrance. Jane tensed, her breath catching as she instinctively pressed her thighs together.

"Easy, flower," he murmured, pausing to meet her eyes. "It's only a finger."

She hesitated, caught between embarrassment and curiosity, then slowly let her legs relax. When his finger slipped inside her, she gasped at the unfamiliar fullness, her fingers tightening in his hair.

"You're so tight," he whispered, his voice rough with desire. "So wet for me."

He continued to lick her, his tongue delving between her folds before closing around her clit and sucking the sensitive nub. The wet sounds of his mouth--those soft, slick laps--filled the room, mingling with Jane's ragged breaths. She felt the tension building, a coil of white-hot energy tightening in her lower belly. He increased the pace, his fingers moving inside her in perfect synchronization with his tongue.

Jane's hips began to jerk uncontrollably, her thighs trembling around his head. Her fingers clenched in his hair as she arched her back, her breasts rising with each frantic breath. A sharp cry escaped her as her orgasm hit, her whole body convulsing with the force of it. Her inner muscles clenched around his fingers, her legs quivered, and her toes curled as waves of pleasure coursed through her. She could barely catch her breath, aftershocks fluttering through her abdomen as she sank back against the cover, trembling and spent.

As the intensity ebbed, he lifted his head and withdrew his fingers. He rose from his knees beside her, the firelight rippling over his broad shoulders and muscular chest, catching on the defined ridges of his abdomen and the dark hair trailing below his navel. His skin glistened faintly with perspiration, his face flushed and his golden eyes dark with desire. His cock stood fully erect, thick and veined, the tip glistening in the warm light.

Jane pushed herself upright, her hair spilling loose around her flushed face, then reached for his hips and pulled him closer. She wrapped her lips around the head of his cock, tasting the salt and pre-cum. Then drew him into her mouth, her tongue circling the ridge, matching the intensity he had shown her.

His reaction was instantaneous. The demon tensed, a choked sound catching in his throat as his hands tightened around her head. The instant he felt the suction of her mouth, he exploded. A deep, ragged groan tore from his chest, his hips thrusting forward instinctively as he came, thick jets of semen filling her mouth and coating her tongue.

Jane pulled back, swallowing before looking up at him with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"I thought you were a super-experienced demon with centuries of practice," she teased.

"I was on edge from the second I saw you. I'm a demon, not a statue, flower," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

Jane laughed. "I'm Jane, by the way."

"Mark," he replied, a crooked smile returning to his lips.

"Are you free to go?" she asked.

"For some time now," he replied, making no move to leave. Instead, he stretched out on the covers beside the fireplace and drew her into his arms, settling her head beneath his chin. For a while, neither spoke. The fire crackled softly, filling the room with warmth, while the air still carried the lingering scents of sex and spent magic.

"I've never had sex before learning my partner name," Mark admitted at last.

Jane smiled against his chest. "Well, today was a first for everyone."

He chuckled, and she tilted her head to look up at him.

"So, what do you actually do? Besides being the best fucking lay in the world?"

Mark laughed. "I work as an accountant in the Treasury." He glanced towards the window. "You're at the coven next to the Trade Bridge, aren't you? I work just across the river."

Jane lifted her head, blinking at him in disbelief. "Across the river?"

"Yes. Ironic, isn't it?" Mark grinned. "You could've saved yourself the trouble of casting that spell. Next time you go out for coffee, just look around."

"I'll keep that in mind the next time I'm looking for someone with talents similar to your." Jane caught the subtle darkening of his eyes at her words, but he made no comment. She tilted her head, studying him. "So, what exactly does Mark the accountant do?"

"Contracts, municipal bonds, historical legal instruments. A lot of very boring paperwork that requires an understanding of ancient Xylothian for the fine print." He shrugged.

Jane giggled. "Aren't demons supposed to be hyperactive? Incapable of sitting still for more than a few seconds?"

"That's an old wives' tale. And a rather racially offensive one" His eyes glinted with mischief. "We're perfectly capable of repeating the same task over and over and over again."

Jane crimsoned.

"What about you?"

Jane propped herself up on one elbow, gathering the coverlet around her. "I'm a medical fellow at the Aethelgard Coven. Twenty-eight days left until I become a fully qualified healer."

"Twenty-eight days?" Mark raised an eyebrow. "You're counting?"

"Of course I'm counting. I've spent six years studying, three years specializing, and approximately half my life being told that if I work hard enough, I'll eventually be allowed to do the work I'm already doing." She paused. "I might be a little impatient."

"That explains the book," he laughed.

Jane groaned and buried her face against his chest. "Please don't remind me of the book."

"I have every right to remind you about the book! You found an unfamiliar spell written in a language you only partially understood, decided it was probably medical in nature, and cast it in your own apartment."

"When you put it like that, it sounds irresponsible."

"It might have been someone much worse than me, flower." His voice had quieted, the teasing edge fading. "Not every demon you summon will be content to settle for a cuddle by the fire."

Jane lifted her brow, studying him. "You're saying I should be grateful?"

"Just more careful." He brushed a loose strand of hair away from her face.

Jane's expression softened. "You do realize the Coven has a dozen security measures I could have used to alert others to your presence?"

"I've read about them." Mark glanced at her. "It's impossible to escape the endless barrage of self-congratulatory articles about Coven security they publish in the news."

"Why didn't you?" he asked after a moment.

Jane traced a finger along the curve of his chest, suddenly finding it remarkably interesting.

"I liked you," she said simply.

They let the silence linger between them.

"You could have left my apartment at any moment, couldn't you?"

Mark's eyebrows rose. "When did you figure that out?"

"The moment you stepped out of the restraining circle to read the book."

"And you said nothing?"

"I was curious to see what you'd do." She gave him a small, sheepish smile. "Why didn't you leave?"

"I liked you."

They stared at each other. Then Jane burst out laughing.

"We make a rather ridiculous pair."

"A pair?" Mark's grin returned. "Is that an invitation, flower? Am I allowed to visit you after work?"

"You absolutely should. How else am I supposed to find out what my precious book actually says?"

"About that," Mark said, sitting up. "I'm taking the book with me. Who knows when you'll decide to summon someone even better than me?"

"Impossible," Jane grinned. "Besides, the book belongs to the library. You'll be arrested the moment you leave the Coven walls with it."

"Fine. Keep your secret collection of potential lovers." Mark sighed dramatically. "Though I suspect I'll get arrested regardless. I doubt the public will appreciate my naked body as much as you did."

Jane laughed and climbed out of bed. "Wait here. I have an old training kit in my wardrobe. It's probably better than sending you into the streets wearing my bedcover."

A few minutes later, Mark emerged in a shirt stretched taut across his broad chest and muscular shoulders. The training pants clung to his thighs, doing little to conceal the bulge beneath.

Jane's gaze lingered. Heat pooled low in her belly, and she swallowed.

Mark caught her looking, his golden eyes gleaming.

"Like what you see, flower?"

"Go home, Mark."

He grinned. "There's more where that came from. I'll show you."