A Demon's Desire Read Online Free

half of the bed. Tristan gave the dog a pat before closing the
door and retreating to his small living room.
    The apartments above his shop were bright and
small, made for function and not luxury. The income from the two
rentals made up for the lack of money coming in from his shop
below. He maintained it to keep his customers comfortable. He
didn’t need the herbs or candles he stocked to work his magic, but
revealing that made even those who hired him as an occult
consultant uneasy. If he’d run into a problem like Emma’s before,
he’d have charged her a few thousand dollars.
    He sat on an old, plush couch before the box
Emma had brought and considered it once more. He’d never seen
anything quite like it, outside of his own evil shadows. It was
dark, the essence of its creator lingering despite an attempt to
erase it. A woman, once experienced enough to call up dark magic
but not wield it effectively, and a man, whose essence was stronger
than that of anyone’s he’d ever felt. The woman had help creating
this magic.
    Tristan had no need for such spells. He was
born with magic within him, shifting and restless, at times
submissive and at times demanding. His mother called his father a
demon, among other colorful names. Tristan didn’t know what his
father was. His own careful control of the consuming magic came
from years of darkness and struggle, of fighting to suppress the
darkness, and of cursing the man who made him what he was without
providing him guidance on how to live with the darkness.
    He touched the box, his body shuddering at
the contact. Yes, he knew this magic, and it scared him. It was
like an icy drink of water on a hot day, soothing yet burning and
too seductive for just one sip. It seemed to recognize him, too.
He’d long ago locked up what he could of the evil within him, yet
felt it urge him to touch the box again. Why this magic clung to
the brown teddy bear within the box, he didn’t know. Emma had
powerful enemies. She was a pure soul, a good soul. Why, then, was
something like this in her possession?
    “She still sleeps, Mother,” he said, sensing
the woman’s silent entrance through the kitchen. His mother, a
woman of olive skin and short silver hair, wore a gym suit and
gaudy amethyst and amber jewelry.
    “You’re too drawn to it,” she replied, unease
in her voice. “I don’t like this, Tristan.”
    “I’m stronger than you know.”
    “Don’t underestimate this magic.”
    “Have you seen something that I should know
about?” he asked, alerted by her tone. While she claimed to be
retired, his mother still practiced white magic when it suited
her.
    “I couldn’t tell you if I had,” she said.
“This evil is something you’ve never faced before.”
    “I feel it,” Tristan said and glanced up to
meet dark eyes similar to his. Her features were heavy and smooth
despite her age, her small shape thickened with age. “I couldn’t
turn her away. This magic doesn’t belong among humans, but it feels
so familiar. I can’t place it.”
    “I worry for your safety in dealing with
something like this. Don’t get involved in this stuff more than you
must.” The woman before him softened. She perched on a worn chair
that matched the sofa. “Not many seek out the demon’s son. And
Isolde likes her.”
    “She fed her a candy bar.”
    “The way to any woman’s heart. It’s a shame
she came with this in tow.” His mother’s features were troubled.
She shook off the mood. “You need to fire those clerks. They’re
snotty little girls.”
    “They amuse me.”
    “By all means, sleep with them and send them
off.”
    His mother knew him well, and her bluntness
was refreshing after dealing with the average person too afraid of
him to formulate a coherent sentence. Normally he did just that:
slept with the clerks until bored with them and sent them on their
way. His gaze drifted to his bedroom. He’d never found a woman who
could accept the darkness within him. In truth,