Daemon's Blood: A Dark Paranormal Romance (Atiernan Book 1): Daemon Blade Book 1 Read online

  Daemon's Blood

  ATIERNAN BOOK ONE: DAEMON BLADE SERIES

  LANA SKY

  Also by Lana Sky

  DARK MAFIA ROMANCE

  Beautiful Monsters

  Crescendo

  Refrain

  Mezzo

  Allegro

  El Mundo de Sangre

  Dinero de Sangre

  Blood Money

  Blood Ties

  Blood Bound

  Diamante de Sangre

  Blood Diamond

  The War of Roses Universe

  The War of Roses

  XV: (Fifteen)

  VII: (Seven)

  I: (One)

  The Complete War of Roses Trilogy

  Of Mice and Men

  Ruthless King

  Queen of Thorns

  Shattered Throne

  Mended Crown

  DARK BDSM BILLIONAIRE ROMANCE

  Club XXX

  Maxim: Submit

  Maxim: Obey

  Maxim: Surrender

  Maxim: The Complete Trilogy

  Vadim: Control

  Vadim: Corrupt

  Vadim: Conquer

  Vadim: The Complete Trilogy

  DARK ROMANTIC SUSPENSE

  Painted Sin

  A Touch of Dark

  A Taste like Sin

  The Complete Painted Sin Duet

  Dragon Triad Duet

  Moth

  Flame

  The Complete Dragon Triad Duet

  DARK AGE-GAP ROMANCE

  Standalones

  Pretty Perfect

  Crossed Lines

  DARK PARANORMAL ROMANCE

  The Ellie Gray Chronicles

  Drain Me

  Chain Me

  The Complete Ellie Gray Chronicles

  The Black Mountain Pack

  Shift

  Howl

  The Daemon Blade Series

  Atiernan

  Daemon’s Blood

  Daemon’s Kiss

  Logan

  Daemon’s Blade

  Daemon’s Bane

  NEWSLETTER EXCLUSIVE

  Rockstar Rebels

  Dirty Lyrics (Newsletter Exclusive)

  Daemon's Blood

  Daemon's Blood By Lana Sky

  Copyright © 2022 by Lana Sky

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover Design and Interior Formatting by Charity Chimni

  Editing by Charity Chimni

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks so much to everyone who supported this draft along the way, including the many beta readers who provided encouragement! Please keep in mind that this story includes dark, graphic, and explicit content matter that may not be suitable for readers under the age of 18—or for readers who are uncomfortable with the following subject matter: age-gap relationships, explicit sex, and graphic depictions of violence.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  A Word from the Author

  About the Author

  Also by Lana Sky

  Chapter

  One

  Pride always came before a fall—but that was only half of the tale. Trust came first. As a witch, Miranda wasn’t well versed in all mortal legends, but she knew the gist of some. Like the one about the figure they considered to be the evilest of all, well into the twenty-first century.

  Lucifer.

  According to the most popular account, he had been an angel initially, and none had foreseen his downfall until the very day he assaulted heaven as the devil himself. Unbeknownst to the mortals, the truth was far more nuanced.

  The warrior known as Lucifer had been a daemon lord beloved by those in his orbit. Scores of mortals and immortals alike had blindly put their faith in his leadership. Most refused to acknowledge the darkness growing within him until it was too late. All suffered in the end.

  That was the irony of it—when someone fell from grace, they tended to take everyone down with them—and the gravest consequences usually affected those who had no say in the original sin.

  For such souls, pride was the last resort. One last shred of dignity to cling to. Shunned by her own coven, Miranda wholeheartedly credited her survival until this point to nothing but pride.

  Therefore, she had no qualms about holding her head high and facing this newest obstacle with her chin in the air. Already, she had sunk about as far as you could go—literally. Trapped in a daemon’s dungeon, abducted from her homeland, and stripped of her magic…

  How much worse could it get?

  Exponentially worse, a part of her warned as a sudden noise shattered the quiet. Footsteps? There wasn’t even time to compose herself as the door to her cell flew open. Blinking, she strained her eyes through the impenetrable darkness for a glimpse of the intruder. One of them, come to gawk at the captive witch?

  Surprisingly, this figure would be the first to face her. Despite being inherently violent, these daemons didn’t seem inclined to gloat. After days in near-total darkness, the only other living creatures she’d seen were the rats scurrying in the corners of the cell.

  Miranda assumed this visitor was the same unseen figure who brought her food every day, slipping a tray through a gap in the door. The same person gruffly revealed her fate when she awoke here two days ago.

  But no...

  The door opened fully, revealing a massive silhouette with piercing amber eyes bright enough to rival the shadows. She swallowed hard. Only a sparse knowledge of daemon history allowed her to place him. Few men, mortal or otherwise, had eyes like his, a reddish orange like hellfire. But would he really deign to visit the dungeon to gawk at his captive? A creature who spawned legends with blood and death…

  The fearsome Blood Warrior.

  “Witch.” His voice was so deep, something inside her quivered at the sound. The low baritone alone convinced her fully. It was him.

  So, the daemon lord hadn’t stooped to sending a minion to fetch her.

  He had come for her himself.

  “Do you know where you are now?” he asked. The probing nature of that question unnerved her.

  Of course, she knew. One minute she’d been picking herbs in the gardens just beyond the boundaries of her coven. The next…

  Darkness. From the way her head had throbbed when she first regained consci
ousness, she guessed she’d fallen prey to a potent, very crude sleeping spell. One that rendered her unconscious long enough to allow her to be transferred here without a fight—somewhere within the daemon realm, most likely.

  A rather anti-climactic kidnapping.

  Not long after, when she’d barely realized her current circumstances, a tray had appeared from under the door, and a voice had whispered, “You are in the dungeon of Lord…”

  Something.

  It was so strange that she couldn’t remember his name. All she knew were the legends starring him, and that he was called something foreign and ancient sounding. Evil. Introductions aside, he didn’t seem inclined to use her name either.

  “Get up,” he rasped, displaying a fluent grasp of a mortal language.

  Miranda lurched to her feet and staggered to find her balance. She had mentally rehearsed this moment every second of her imprisonment. Practiced how she would throw her head back and laugh when the monster made his demands. Be brave.

  But, partially illuminated by the glow of a nearby torch, he looked…

  Feral. Every inch of him seemed to convey strength and vitality. He even smelled powerful, with a scent that itched at her nostrils like wood smoke. His hair was red, like blood, and so long it draped his shoulders like a cape—though the alarming hue didn’t make the length seem feminine. Instead, it just highlighted the amber in his eyes, raising goosebumps along her skin.

  He looked nothing like the religious iterations of daemons most mortals feared. Ironically, he resembled a textbook example of a vampire—though, his breed was what the legends were based on, after all.

  Raeth daemons. Creatures born of Hell itself, who fed on blood and dwelled in shadow, hunting mortals and witches alike for sport. The worst among them utilized the most despised and archaic of all arcane practices—blood magic.

  No wonder her kind feared the likes of him. Though…up until now, Miranda would have proudly scoffed at the thought of ever being cowed by a man, immortal or not. Faced with him in person, she quietly reassessed her entire strategy.

  It didn’t help that he remained silent, observing her as intently as she did him. As his eyes raked over her body a second time, she self-consciously wrestled the hem of her filthy dress down to her knees. She couldn’t imagine how she might have looked. There wasn’t a bathroom in this cell—only a bucket she’d been forced to use when the bodily urge arose. There wasn’t even a mirror or rag she could utilize to keep herself clean, not that she cared to make herself presentable for a daemon. She hoped her body odor and haggard appearance offended him.

  Though, what he actually thought? She had no idea—his expression was stone.

  That didn’t stop her mind from conjuring plenty of despicable acts he might look to commit next. Would he hurt her? Rip her to pieces? Or, the most horrific crime of all, drain her blood?

  “Come.” Without so much as a threat or curse, he inclined his head for her to follow, and she was left stunned.

  On trembling legs, she tip-toed after him into a wide corridor and instantly felt as though she stepped back in time. Her coven was openly mocked as a more “old-fashioned” bunch, but even they included some modern elements into their lives, such as cell phones and cars. The internet occasionally had its uses, and Miranda herself owned an automatic coffee maker, which had served to ostracize her no more than she already was.

  Seeing as how torchlight served as the sole illumination, she doubted this place had access to electricity. Even so, her eyes were watering at the harsh light after days in shadow.

  But at least it hadn’t been total darkness, a part of her admitted. The light visible beneath the solid door of her cell had barely been enough to see her hand in front of her face, and yet it alone had made this imprisonment bearable. You got through that without breaking; you can survive anything.

  Except for a short walk, it seemed. The dungeon stretched endlessly, weaving through darkness and shadow and imposing black stone. She lost track of how long they wandered.

  It felt like an eternity—perhaps because her silent guide didn’t speak. Massive and slow moving, he just led the way toward a set of stairs that seemed cut into the building’s foundation. Suddenly, his voice rumbled back to her.

  “Watch your step.”

  The warning—right as she stumbled over a steep step cut into the stone anyway—startled Miranda so badly she gasped. Before she could puzzle out why he would warn her at all, the daemon had already mounted the staircase and disappeared through a doorway.

  With thoughts of her rodent roommates at the back of her mind, she scrambled after him, already panting by the time she rounded a corner and entered a massive room, so brightly lit it had her blinking.

  There went the no electricity theory—ornate light fixtures sported bulbs that were brilliantly illuminated. The place was grand—she had to give him that much. Dark and gothic, it reminded her of a castle, complete with smooth stone floors.

  She could sense, rather than see, other creatures lurking beyond view, but she didn’t dare turn her gaze from the warrior’s back to get a good look. While most daemons lived alone, she remembered from her studies, that some preferred to stay in colonies, with whole families living together under one roof.

  Ironically, in Hazel’s Way, her own coven lived similarly—though this dwelling was far more lavish than any in their sacred forest. This level was a stark contrast to the dungeon, beautifully furnished with plush red carpet covering polished flagstones.

  “Witch.”

  Belatedly, she realized that she had stopped to gape. Her daemon guide was halfway across the expansive room, eyeing her from over his shoulder with a look that made her swallow.

  “Come.” Sternly, he inclined his head, and Miranda had no choice but to follow.

  This walk wasn’t as grueling, at least. Near the end of the hall, he turned into another spacious room that resembled a training area with weapons—everything spanning from swords to daggers—displayed on metal racks and open space in the center, dominated by just two other figures.

  Instantly, Miranda realized that daemons had a very different concept of hospitality than witches. In Hazel’s Way, guests were presented with warm tea and cheerful greetings.

  Not dead monsters ripped right from a nightmare.

  She recoiled in disgust, covering her nose with her hand as a putrid stench rankled her nostrils.

  She had studied a variety of beasts while scouring old magical texts, and even the odd mortal movie or two. Nothing compared to whatever this monster was, glaring up at her from a bloodstained section of stone.

  “Keep back,” the warrior warned, though she wasn’t inclined to disobey. “Its blood is acidic and will burn your skin.”

  Poisonous qualities aside, the thing was also massive—twice the size of the biggest man she knew. Its limbs were surprisingly humanlike, attached to a stocky torso. Gray skin revealed hints of the blackish veins snaking beneath, while a pelt of coarse brown hair obscured its privates and vast skull. Its face, however, was grotesque with red eyes and a mouth full of sharp fangs.

  “My Lord, we retrieved the body of this beast as you requested.” Another daemon male stood over the creature, dressed head to toe in black. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he were handsome, with long, dark hair pulled back from a delicate face.

  As it was, he was an evil, corrupted creature that only superficially resembled mortals, no different than the beast he inspected. So focused on his observation, he addressed his master without looking up. When he finally did, and spotted Miranda in the doorway, his expression went cold. The disgust was mutual, it seemed. “You bring her here? Lord Atiernan, she is—”

  “She can’t do you any harm, Benjamin,” the red-haired daemon said, nodding to her wrist.

  Oh. Miranda flinched and eyed the metal bracelet in question. It was beautiful at a glance, made of silver, etched with various swirling designs. Something far too extravagant to award a captive.

/>   At least, on the surface. To no avail, Miranda had spent every second of her captivity in the dungeon trying to pry it off. It was a binding circle, intended to suppress her power completely. While wearing it, she was helpless.

  “Witch,” the red-haired lord continued, drawing her attention to him. “Look—” he gestured toward the slain creature, but his expression wasn’t full of malice like one would expect. This display wasn’t meant to intimidate her. But then, what? “Tell me what you see.”

  “A monster,” she rasped, wringing her hands together to hide how they trembled.

  “No.”

  Miranda jumped—she must have walked a few steps ahead of him, because his hot breath tickled the back of her neck though she didn’t dare turn to see how close he might be. Was that a laugh that rumbled from his throat next? Or a growl.

  “Tell me if there is anything odd you find about this creature. Look carefully.”

  A test? She could refuse, but some faint, internal voice warned that this man didn’t tolerate defiance from anyone.

  For that reason, she’d hesitated to take him in fully until now. When she finally did, she was disappointed to find that the shadows of the dungeon weren’t solely responsible for making him appear so intimidating. With a face as ruthlessly handsome as if carved from stone, and that mane of scarlet hair, he resembled a god, bathed in the sunlight streaming in from a row of tall windows behind him.