by Dottie Taylor
The stench of rotting vegetation and old blood is almost overwhelming. The Isle of Damned grows near.
An icy hand slips around my waist, pulling me to his frigid body. “Aye, love, we're close.”
He reaches up and caresses my breast through the thin fabric of my blouse. I shiver either from his touch or my own desires, I can no longer tell.
His laughter vibrates through my body. “Come now, love, you know what you are. Why do you deny yourself?”
“Half-born Demon I am be, but Demon bound I'm not.”
His lips seek my neck where he plants an almost delicate kiss as he scents the pull of my blood.
“Half-born divining rod is all I am to you,” I sigh.
“Come to my bed.” The deep bass of his voice rumbles through my chilled body.
I have no illusions about life in Abrax's arms, once the treasure's found and the bounty paid, my life will be forfeit.
“Death awaits me.”
“Avoid death, join me. No one will dare reap your soul.”
“You could let me go.”
“I cannot.” He lowers his lips to mine. “I find myself bewitched.”
Our lips meet in a forbidden kiss, I rest my head upon his chest, his heartbeat greets my ears.
“And I cannot be with you.... No matter how much I want to be.” I whisper as the shore comes into view. And then it strikes me, Demons don't have hearts.
© Dottie Taylor