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  A Sinful Little Gift

  By Kassandra Lea

  Published by JMS Books LLC

  Visit jms-books.com for more information.

  Copyright 2018 Kassandra Lea

  ISBN 9781634866699

  Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com

  Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

  All rights reserved.

  WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

  No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

  This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which might be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Published in the United States of America.

  * * * *

  A Sinful Little Gift

  By Kassandra Lea

  “Thank you,” the man said, shrugging into his coat, a dreamy expression on his face. “This was definitely…” His gaze focused on Flynn, who sat on the edge of the bed in nothing more than a pair of leather pants. “Would it be alright if I come again?”

  A sly smile, one without any real emotion, tugged the corners of Flynn’s mouth. The demon gave a subtle nod. “Of course, you’re always welcome. But let’s make your next visit after the holidays.” The man stood before the door, suddenly crestfallen at the idea of having to wait what must have seemed like a long time. Flynn stood, closing the distance between them. Casually he slipped an arm around the man’s shoulders, turning the now unwanted guest to the door. “Trust me, it will pass quicker than you can imagine.”

  “Are you sure…” the man hesitated in the doorway. He was trying Flynn’s patience. “I mean…”

  Flynn gave him a bit of a nudge out the door. There seemed to be more the man wanted to say but Flynn had no desire to hear it, making sure to slip the lock into place once the door was firmly closed. Finally alone, Flynn turned to face the room, back pressed against the door. The only sound was the ticking of an ugly cuckoo clock on the wall adjacent to the bathroom door. There was no sentimental value behind the piece, just another item used to cast the right spell, to set the mood, so to speak. For some strange reason, mortals found the ticking to be soothing. Flynn long since stopped questioning it, loving how it lulled victims mentally into the right state of mind.

  The power of suggestion, it was a beautiful thing.

  The man he had just ushered out was convinced they’d had a very romantic evening, one filled with building lust and ending with the greatest sex the man had ever experienced. A lie, every single bit of it, not a single grain of truth in any of it. There used to be a time when he loved to actually play more than mind games with his victims, taking them to bed and enjoying the pleasures of the flesh. Nowadays, though, he just spoke to them in a soothing voice, a tone he used to hypnotize the weak, to infiltrate their mental barriers and plant false memories.

  It might have taken a touch more finesse, but in the long run it was all he wanted. While they were busy thinking about sensual touches and passionate kisses, Flynn was busily feeding on a bit of their soul. A tiny portion of their life force. It helped to sustain him, keep him going until the next victim. And he found plenty of victims in Vegas, a cesspool of sin and want and greed and all the things that used to make him feel so alive.

  Sighing, he moved across the padded carpet and ran his fingers along the smooth wood of the dresser. Everything he owned belonged in the single room that was neither here nor there. Nobody could find it unless he wanted them to as it wasn’t really part of the mortal realm. One more trick up his sleeve, one more piece that helped set the right mood. It made feeding so much easier and the fun…

  He stopped before the twisted metal that hung on the wall, the surface acting like a funhouse mirror and distorting the reflected image of the bedroom. Even his own demonic image had been skewed, brown horns sprouting from a thicket of brown hair. There was a touch of melancholy in his eyes, one that he had been steadily watching grow over the past months. Where was the happy demon that lived and breathed the very sin of Vegas, reveling in the feel and taste of flesh? Where had that lust demon gone?

  The answer was an easy enough one to find.

  Pulling open the top drawer, he retrieved a simple box of blackened burnt wood. The symbol engraved on the top ensured that none but himself would be able to pop it open. He returned to the foot of the bed, tracing the symbol with his fingertips, knowing what rested inside. Slowly he pried up the lid and beheld his most treasured possession. There, resting atop a bed of red crushed velvet was a dazzling feather. Flynn took it from the box, setting the contraption aside, all attention now on the solitary feather.

  Bigger than his palm, bigger than what one might get from an eagle. A beautiful shade of dazzling, sparkling white with just the faintest hint of black along the spine. With a delicate touch, he ran the feather over his other palm, loving the way it felt against his flesh. It sent a tingle down his spine. Nobody knew he had the feather, not even the original owner. He had found it after one of their encounters, plucking it gently from the bed and knowing it came with great power. Though now it was no longer power he concerned himself with, who cared what could be done with the feather? What mattered was that it belonged to the one man, the one creature he could not manage to escape.

  The very being that had taken firm hold of his heart, despite their many differences.

  Despite the fact that everything told them it was wrong.

  How could love be wrong?

  It made him feel so alive…

  Feather in hand, Flynn fell back on the bed, twisting the feather between two fingers. Despite the fact he’d just fed, he could already feel a familiar ache stirring to life in his chest. It was not the need to feed again so soon, a mistake he had made a few times before back in the beginning. No, he now understood perfectly that it meant he was experiencing the touch of a broken heart. No, that was wrong, not broken, more like aching, yearning, a burning desire to be with the one he truly wanted. To feel the touch of the man who knew how to set him on fire from head to toe. To be engulfed in arms that brought with them new sensations.

  A sense of peace.

  Flynn closed his eyes, dropping his hand and the feather to his bare chest. Some nights were easier than others, but there were times when he just could not escape. Sometimes he wondered if perhaps he didn’t want to escape, to find a way clear of the ache that threatened to devour his very being. Back at the start, he used to think he could drink it away, get drunk on the consumption of too many souls.

  It never worked.

  His heart had experienced something new, thirsted for a delicacy it could not have at whim. He made the fatal mistake of letting someone get attached. Dare he admit the person, creature, in question managed to sink into his very veins? And now, he was tired of fighting, tired of trying to get the pain of wanting to leave him alone.

  Eyes closed, Flynn conjured up an image of his lover. It didn’t take much effort on his part, every single moment they spent together vividly etched in his mind. Every lingering kiss, every feathery touch…Flynn shive
red. He could still recall the thrill that had gone through his body on their first encounter, both of them realizing they had crossed a line, one that there was no way to fix. Did they care? Never.

  I give myself to you, Flynn.

  The delicious sentence echoed in the confines of his skull. He longed for those words, knew what it meant for his lover to say them, and for that reason they meant so much more. Oh, and the tasty little tidbits that followed them…The very bed he lay on, oh they things they had done to each other on it. Kinky things, dirty things, such wonderfully lovely things.

  But it had been so long since their last tryst.

  Too long.

  Just thinking about his lover brought forth a well of emotions he wasn’t used to dealing with, most of them he shoved aside. He did that now, focusing on the one thing he knew by heart, the lust, the want. Moving a hand slowly down over his stomach and beyond the waistband of his pants, he took firm hold of himself, a moan passing over his lips. His touch, of course, fell short, not quite what he wanted at that moment, but it was all he had. So he made it work, every moment slow and deliberate. He tried to imagine the hand of his lover doing the work. But they were so different. His touch was hot, so very hot and Samuel…

  With every rise and fall of his hand he drew closer to the promised reward. Samuel’s memory burned like a fire. Pain became pleasure and vice versa. He wanted Samuel, needed his winged lover to be there with him.

  He brought himself to the brink and stopped, refusing to finish the job. He wanted it to be Samuel who made him feel such pleasures again. Feather still clutched to his chest, he turned on his side and faced the window. Outside, he could see the dazzle of Las Vegas, the glow of the city even brighter now it was the holiday season. Out there on the streets he knew people were seeking treasures to fill the holes inside, whether it be an expensive piece of jewelry or a tryst on the wrong side of the tracks. They all lusted for something. It was one of the many reasons he wound up in the City of Sin. There were many more of his kind and he knew they would be out in the throngs enjoying themselves.

  Flynn used to do it.

  Christmastime had once meant so much to him. It was a holiday meant for making merry, when families and loved ones gathered in celebration. So caught up in their holiday joy they never really paid any attention to the ones left in the dark. Those depressed lonely souls wandering the streets looking for something to give them meaning during what most considered the happiest time of the year. That’s when the likes of Flynn would step in; give them a little something special while taking a little piece for themselves. People gorged on food around the holidays. Used to be he would gorge on souls, filling himself until he couldn’t possibly take one more nibble.

  Heavenly, that was what Christmas had been to him, heavenly in a hellish sort of way.

  “Maybe that’s what you need, ole boy,” he grumbled to himself. “Get out, enjoy yourself, force every and any thought of Samuel from your mind. If he wanted you…” He sat up abruptly, banishing the unfinished thought. Without another word, he slipped the feather back into the box, returned it to the dresser, and turned to the window. The picture outside was just as he imagined. Vegas with its usual glitz and glamor dialed up tenfold with touches of the holiday.

  And the people…there were plenty of them.

  A simple snap of his fingers and he was down on the sidewalk with them. Nobody witnessed his sudden appearance because he didn’t want them to. For all they knew, he’d been standing there the entire time. One of the strip joints was playing a racy version of a Christmas carol. They promised their paying customers naughty elves and reindeer in leather harnesses. The casino next door boasted about a decadent Christmas spread and a chance to win a big holiday jackpot. Neither interested Flynn.

  He moved along through the crowds. Occasionally he would brush lightly against someone, giving them a pleasurable little shock to the darkness that lurked within. Nobody ever suspected a demon around such a joyous holiday. Being amongst them, it worked for a short while, long enough to dull the numbing ache in his chest. But after passing one too many couples walking hand in hand, he found himself swirling back into the well of melancholy that refused to leave him be.

  Flynn stopped before one of the many shops trying to hock expensive trinkets marked way beyond their value. The window display, like everywhere else, featured the best they had to offer in way of holiday goods. The Santa sitting before the fake fireplace was a bit creepy, more of a clown than a jolly old man. Flynn didn’t care. One piece caught his attention. With a touch of magic, he reached right through the glass and pulled the item free of the display. He gave the snow globe a gentle shake, flakes of white swirling around the angel inside.

  The ache intensified.

  His hand shook.

  A tear may have slipped free but he wasn’t the sort to admit it.

  He let the snow globe slip from his grasp, falling to the cement where it smashed. Flynn turned without a second thought and tried to lose himself in the crowd.

  * * * *

  A hand retrieved the broken snow globe, careful to avoid the jagged pieces of glass that remained. Blue eyes studied the figure of the angel, one of the wings broken off in the fall. It resonated with Samuel as he turned it slowly in his hand. The people who passed gave him a wide berth, none of them really seeing him, but sensing his presence nonetheless. His aura burned so bright, once a vivid golden hue, now slightly duller, and he knew it was because of the city. Because of the people that flocked to it in droves. Because of the one person that kept bringing him back.

  With a snap of his fingers he put the snow globe back to rights and returned it to its rightful place in the display. Vegas during the holidays, somehow the City of Sin managed to glow even brighter. There were sales in every window, enticing deals, and the ever-hopeful throng wanting to win the elusive jackpot. From the height of the mob to the present, the city rarely changed. Shady deals were simply done more discreetly. There were so many desperate souls and if he listened he could hear them crying out with lust and greed.

  He loathed the city.

  For centuries he tried to keep the place from being born, tried to cleanse the spot in the desert that would later become a demon playground. He failed, of course, as was evident by the ever-growing popularity of the city. He knew that more and more demons found their way there, drawn in by the flashy neon lights and promise of desperate souls. A glance across the street only proved him right, one of the shadowed figures was gazing back at him. The demon sneered, then disappeared. Samuel knew there was still a touch of hope for some of the citizens.

  Right now his brothers were hanging around churches listening to the prayers of the weak and offering guidance. Others were at the bedside of the sick waiting to work miracles for those destined to be saved, and for those who didn’t get a second chance, they’d have a welcoming embrace into the next life. He did neither, having been born for another purpose. His role was on the battlefield, leading his fellow warriors in the continuous struggle of light and dark, good and evil. Though with the way the world was turning, he felt like he was losing.

  And perhaps that was one more reason he wound up in Vegas.

  Technically, he was forbidden to be there, having no real reason to be on the streets amongst the people. There were those that would cross his path and fall apart, become broken by the mere touch of his presence. Whereas demons could associate humans without too many complications, Samuel always found it particularly hard to do the same.

  Until recently.

  Things had changed.

  He had changed. It was visible in the faint traces of black on each and every single one of his feathers. If his brothers noticed, they didn’t say anything, but he figured it was only a matter of time. Samuel would have no explanation for them, knowing the source of the taint. Flynn, his beloved demon, the one he found himself unable to quit. Time and time again he wound up in the desert city seeking to feel that touch, to have his soul set on f
ire…and paying the price every single time. His feathers were growing dull and his halo wasn’t so vibrant anymore either.

  But Flynn…

  Without realizing, had taken to trailing after the demon while playing through their many encounters. It wasn’t until the demon that Samuel finally found the comfort to give up his role as leader, to give up his power to another. He loved it when Flynn took charge, all the naughty little games the demon played. Arousal stirred in Samuel. Usually that was all it took nowadays, simple thoughts of Flynn’s touch, his kiss, the heat that radiated off of him, the way his horns curved…He kept trying to escape, to outrun the demon’s pull.

  But all it took was one stray thought to create a train and before he knew it he had tripped, falling back in love with the demon.

  He tried to stay away and had actually done a decent job, busying himself with other matters on the other side of the globe. And yet, here he was right back in the place he felt calling to him day after day, night after night. He had foolishly let the demon’s claws sink into his heart, where they refused to relinquish their hold. Did he care? On some level, yes, but for the most part, no, he wanted to fall back into bed with Flynn. He wanted to make more memories. He wanted to be burned by every single touch.

  And judging by the state of his lover, he wasn’t the only one suffering. How could he have stayed away for so long? How could he deny the way he felt just because others wouldn’t be willing to see beyond the wrongness of it? How could love be wrong? And at the same time he wondered why it was that he found himself pining for a demon. What spell had Flynn worked on him to keep bringing him back to the desert, back to that bed and their naughty little games?

  Samuel thought about the snow globe, the fleeting look he’d seen on Flynn’s face. The tear. This was supposed to be a time of good cheer and joy and for people who loved each other to let it be known with an exchange of gifts. He couldn’t very well purchase a gift for Flynn, no, not after all the time he’d been neglecting the needs of his lover. He needed something better than a beautifully wrapped box with a pretty little bow. He needed something that showed Flynn just how much he cared, just how much he desired the demon.