There are places in this world where the otherworldly inhabitants are more abundant than others.
Erosity is one of them.
Welcome to a city, where sensuality meets the dark side of the paranormal, allowing the reader to slip into the world of vampires, witches, shifters, angels and demons. Leave your realm, and enter the underbelly of the farthest reaches of society; where not seen, heard or remembered takes on a whole new meaning.
See their real adventures, wherever they may take them.
Tales of Erosity will vary in heat ratings; anywhere from sweet to erotic, but will be given a rating with each posting. Follow the Tales of Erosity, to keep up on the latest drama or sexcapades that the otherworldly beings pursue.
Title: The Demon Queen, Part I
By: Kayden McLeod
Rating: PG, with obscene language
A scream sounded from down one of the alleys I’d crossed, but paid no mind while setting my direct course to where I’d been bid.
Let the humans rot this night, I thought bitterly.
I walked down the darkened streets of Erosity, an hour past the twilight settling upon the horizon. I wasn’t in the mood to listen to their bitching and whining about inspiration, let alone their even more petty problems that had never concerned me.
My name was Liwet, the “angel” of inventions. However, I wasn’t pristine, as most thought me. I was shunned from the normal crowds, who knew what I was on sight.
I was a half-demon, half-angel; a dirty half-breed, to be pushed to the shadows, and forgotten.
But I had long since come to terms with it, tending to stay at the edges of society, and never really taking part. The angels shunned me, but the demons…
Well, most of them were arrogant assholes I could never stand. The unattached men liked to think me a different sort of notch on their bedposts. Though some were…acceptable to be around for short periods of platonic time.
I headed into a darkened alcove, toward the back entrance into the Willows, a bar that fronted the ocean cliffs. One a…dear friend owned; if I could call my brother that.
“Li,” Mastema said from the empty back of the kitchen. But I could hear the sounds of cooking food and clinking plates from around the corner, telling me it was a productive evening.
Mastema stared at me expectedly.
Of course he would know I was coming. He was a full demon, one who kept out of the lower realms by staying quiet, and running this bar. This surprised me, since his purpose was to tempt men toward sin. Yet he denied his most basic principles, to stay out of the hell realms I was almost always exempt from, unless I broke the sacred laws applying to being one of the Guides to humanity who resided on earth.
“Why have you called me here?”
“I need you to work tonight. We are unusually busy, and I do not like so many humans mixing with my people, without proper balance.”
In other words; he needed someone to kick ass, if his brethren stepped out of line. Someone, who wasn’t him. Great.
“Why me, Mast?” I asked, being “dumb” on purpose. Even though he didn’t let it show, it pissed him off.
And I was just in that kind of mood. Thankfully, half of my status put me almost on his playing field, almost. Plus, he had a millennia or two on me. Not that in the grand timeline of things, this mattered very much.
“You’re being unreasonably bitchy tonight,” he mused. His thick muscular body was covered in ritual blue-jeans and a t-shirt, just tight enough to show that he was ripped, but not enough to prove it. “In fact, a lot actually.”
I sighed, knowing even if I gave him the firm no currently on my mind, he would still “talk” me into it.
“What do you need?”
“You, on the bar,” Mastema muttered. “Nicor heard about a thunderstorm near to coast and…”
“Decided to go play in it?”
My brother nodded, but never with disgust. Those demons who chose to stay for a long time or live here, very rarely had the chance to act, or be who they really were while on this plane. But it was much the same for us half-breeds of different sorts, and then full-angels.
“I suspect the rush will only get worse the later it gets. But I do have to warn you… Oriax is here tonight with his friends.”
“What?” I asked slowly, what tiny bit of good-humour I’d possessed quickly fled me. “You expect me not to throw something at him in the course of an entire evening?”
My brother rolled his eyes at my mild dramatics, and then pushed his back off of the counter’s edge, a sleek roll of sinew.
I followed only somewhat dutifully. They emerged to the hustle and bustle of the busy portion of the kitchen, with ten or so bodies moving with fast precision, revealing not a one of human descent. Not that I expected less, from the last time I had been summoned here. It wasn’t like I came of my own free will. That was such a human ideal.
None looked up from what they were doing, their ligaments jostling this way and that, but their finished plates stunning as could be, for burgers and fries.
I’d grant that they were delicious and quite addicting, but there was only so far one could go to please this particular clientele. Demons didn’t care for their meat cooked, but the staff would barely sear it on the outside, so the humans who ventured in here couldn’t tell the difference.
I snagged a fry, and Mastema whirled, looking just behind me and glaring at whatever he saw that had displeased him so.
“Have you fallen so low, that you walk among humankind with your wings exposed in such a fashion? Are you looking to get thrown back into the hell realms?”
“They cannot see them,” I replied coldly. “I will no longer be spurred under someone else’s terms, but only my own. Only full-bloods can see these black-feathered contraptions that condemned me from birth, and since they are such a disgrace to both heritages, I will be upfront about it. At least then, I can see their sneers upfront, and know what they think, before they even say a word.”
During my entire speech, all movement had stopped around me. Had my words been so very shocking?
“You are serious?”
“Just because I cannot see your wings nor horns, does not mean they are not there. You have modified the color of your skin, so it looks more tanned than burnt red, but it is only a secondary appearance to what you really look like.”
“And your point?”
I swore every set of lungs stopped breathing, awaiting for my answer. “This is what I look like.”
The lines of Mastema’s lips became cynical, falsely blue eyes hardening into ice-chips. Really, they were a pitiless black, stretching from lid to lid. He didn’t like my assessment, but he couldn’t find a way to reasonably argue the truth.
It was by this show of real emotion, which proved to me the seething rage on the inside was rapidly boiling. Would it burn me? Did I really care, if it did? It had been a low blow, and not a one inside the kitchen thought differently.
I was fast running out of patience for just about everyone, and anything, as dangerous as this was. We both knew it, but it was him that broke the rigid staring down contest that had developed.
“Let’s go then.” He ushered me past the swinging doors, into the ebb and flow of the bar.
Waitresses wandered around taking and giving orders from the customers, but I didn’t pay the inhabitants any mind at all, while I walked behind the bar, trying not to look for Oriax and crew sitting somewhere among the crowds.
Even with my heightened senses, I didn’t sense the much older astrology-obsessed demon. But I had no doubts in his own good time, he would find me.
I set about taking the first few orders, absorbing myself in the task, knowing the tips of my wings brushed against the bottles on the glass shelves behind me. When I was forced to catch a bottle of vodka before it hit the ground, I had to admit Mastema was right.
I hated to ever do such a thing! Without looking toward the doors where he still stood, the wings physically left my body, leaving me human-looking as I was going to get, short of losing my immortality.
A thick tendril of long black hair escaped being tucked behind my ear, falling past my line of vision and blocking the entire right-side of the front bar area. I wasn’t paying attention when a hand caught mine, the touch searing hot as only a demon’s could be.
“Hello, il mio dolce,” Oriax said in a heavily-accented voice, forcing me to cut off a sarcastic laugh.
He was always the pretender, making a life out of acting completely opposite to what he actually was, and taking pleasure in confusing the races. He had multiple personalities, the likes I’d never seen in another individual.
His friends stood around him like jackals they were; Berith, Cresil and Kobal. Demons. They were all testosterone and male arrogance. Not that he was any different, in fact making them all look far worse.
“Drop the act,” I demanded.
“Che cosa, bellezza mia, io ti offendono?” Oriax looked affronted himself, but I didn’t believe it for a single second!
“Sei davvero feccia. You are not Italian, Ori, you don’t even look as such!”I tugged my hand back, hating the reaction I always had around someone so absolutely vile.
“You know, I really love it when you call me that,” he responded without any harshness or reprimand. He was even harder to piss off than my brother.
“That you are scum?”
“No dear, that you think to shorten my name,” Oriax muttered, and his friends smiled maliciously, “like an endearment. Can we talk?”
“What for? I am working for my brother.”
“Yes, I know. I asked him to call you in. I knew you wouldn’t take it, if I phoned, let alone heed my proper summons, if you could help it.”
“He did what?” I whirled, my hair flying out and hitting him satisfyingly in the face, inducing the three stooges at his back into fits of unmanly giggles.
I couldn’t help but smirk, both at them and my brother, who stared back unrepentantly. Mastema shrugged, absolving himself of guilt as he ducked back into the kitchen.
“Come outside with me for a moment. Kobal take the bar,” Oriax ordered, taking back my hand, pulling me down the length of bar and through the opening, toward the door.
“What is this about?”
“Just hold on to that thought,” he muttered, implying he wanted away from the many set of keen ears that had perked up at our swift moments.
I could almost hear them now; what was Oriax doing with the half-breed?
Fuck ‘em, I thought. And if any one of them thought to say a thing to me, I wouldn’t hesitate to say it aloud.
The moment the door closed behind us, a layer of power spread over the small patio-style balcony, with stairs leading down the rocky cliff, to emerge at the beach below, the ocean crashing upon the surrounding rocks with ferocious velocity.
The city ran up and down the ocean, spreading out into the secluded valley, keeping a rather large population of the underworld races that most places on earth would never see by the light of day.
It was a “hot” spot. The demons congregated around the strongest of the veils between the realms, and the angels were here to counteract them. Then sprinkle in the vampires, witches and God knew what else, and then you had a party at random moments. Most times, they had to be quickly dispatched, lest too much drama unfolded and all of us would suffer for it.
Deep in thought, I ignored the man at my side. I felt this had to mean something, but it was convoluted and driving me mad.
“Liwet?” Oriax asked with strain in his voice.
“I need you to do something for me,” he asked softly. “Something very important, one I need you to think over very carefully.”
“I don’t want to know this, do I?”
“No, you really don’t. And I wouldn’t ask this of you, if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.”
“Then spit it out, Ori. When we were…dating,” we both smirked at that, “you had no problem telling me anything on your mind.”
Yea, so, we had history. A lot of it.
“I need a wife,” he blurted out.
I blinked, not comprehending. “Excuse me? Why would you tell me this?”
“Because,” he admitted, his pupils bleeding out to the edges of his eyes, until they were completely black, “they chose you.”
Part II coming soon, along with many other fabulous stories from the Erosity Authors!