Dad bod demon, p.1
Dad Bod Demon, page 1
Dad Bod Demon
Violet Rae
Dad Bod Demon by Violet Rae
Published by Violet Rae
www.authorvioletrae.com
Copyright © 2024 Violet Rae
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permissions contact: violet@authorvioletrae.com
Cover by Bookin It Designs
Editing & Formatting by Violet Rae
Created with Vellum
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Epilogue
Epilogue
Dad Bod Gorgon Sneak Peek
Chapter One
Penelope
“Penelope, you sweet little innocent,” Diana, the tall female guard, sighs as I lean over the balcony of my hotel room, trying to get a good look at the copious men in the street. “Please stop that, or your father will have an absolute fit.”
“Oh, Diana, stop fussing. I’m only looking,” I reply, glancing back at the guard whose sole purpose is to protect me and my virtue. “I’m locked away in the country for what feels like three-hundred-and-sixty-five days of the year, surrounded by women, and I’m tired of it. Do you know, my father is the only male I’ve ever actually spoken to?”
As I settle into the wrought-iron chair, painted dainty shades of white and pale pink, my gaze drifts to my attractive guard, always hovering nearby. In truth, I'm not sure about Diana's age, but from our interactions, she appears to be no more than a few years older than me.
My heart races at the thought of confiding in her, of perhaps seeking some guidance on how to navigate the unbearable torment consuming me. I wonder if she shares the same longings that shake me to my core. After all, she, like myself, is trapped in this gilded cage, surrounded only by the company of women, save for my overprotective father. Is it possible that she also yearns for something more, something deep and carnal, something that can only be found in the arms of a lover?
“What about those purity balls he takes you to? Don’t you talk to men there?” Diana asks with a frown. It's clear from how her face pulls down that she thinks the whole situation is odd, but she isn't about to prod too much.
Working for Forest Trumont as a guard for his most precious possession—me—comes with an excellent benefits package and a salary that most can only dream about. I know that even if I don't like to think of myself as my father’s possession.
Lately, thoughts have started to invade my mind: thoughts about marriage and babies, things I see on TV when nobody knows I'm watching. Protected my entire life from any males, even my own family, I thought my father cared about me so much that he wanted to protect me from any harm. I thought he loved me more than anyone else in the world. But lately…
“Pen? Are you all right?” Diana asks, using the shortened version of my name, which she only does when we’re alone.
I sigh, looking up at my guard, brushing my long hair behind my shoulders. “I’m fine. And to answer your question, no, the other men are fathers, and they wouldn’t dare talk to another man’s daughter. It would be too shameful.”
My eyes move to the gold band on my left hand, wrapped around the finger that will one day hold a wedding band—if I'm ever allowed to meet a man, that is. I promised my father I would remain a virgin, a promise I made when I was fifteen and didn’t understand the situation in its entirety.
“Your father does seem to have an obsession with your…purity,” Diana whispers. She sits opposite me, but her eyes move constantly, always looking for any threat to my life or my innocence. “I heard he insisted all male staff at the hotel be sent home and that only female staff were allowed in the building while you’re here.”
“That wouldn’t surprise me.” I smile wistfully, thinking how sweet my father is, always ensuring I'm safe from any threat. After all, real monsters roam the world outside our mansion in the country and are rife here in the city.
They're called many things: monsters, creatures, mutants. My father calls them The Others.
Screaming Woods was the first place they appeared, the result of a scientist’s homemade Halloween punch gone wrong. Those who drank the Frankenpunch turned into monsters—gargoyles, ogres, griffins, ghosts, and many more.
Then, little pockets of magic started spilling into the neighboring village of Fable Forest. Rumor has it that the residents there are all caught in a spell and forced to live out classic kids' fairy tales with a twist. Seems a little farfetched to me, but who am I to judge? As sheltered as I am, I'm the last person to understand the complexities of the "real" world.
The fact remains—The Others are now a part of everyday life… not that I've ever seen one apart from on TV. To be fair, most of The Others have integrated peacefully into "our" world. Many have strength and power that could easily be used for nefarious purposes, but for the most part, they seem to want what we want—the freedom to live their lives how they choose, even having relationships and marrying humans.
The Others have blended into human society, taking jobs, buying houses… even having children with their loved ones, resulting in many cute, hybrid babies.
I sigh, wishing I was an active participant in life. But Father considers it too dangerous and ensures we're protected by thick walls, high-tech security systems, and twenty-four-hour guards.
Anything could happen, and a man like my father, a man richer and more powerful than the gods, will always be a target. He tells me of the constant threats he faces, to him and to me. It's a knowledge I've grown up with—the unshakeable belief that the outside world is a terrifying and dangerous place. So why do I still yearn for a life beyond my gilded cage? What is this itch beneath my skin that urges me to break open my cage and fly free and far?
Perhaps I get my willful spirit from my mother. It's no secret that she hates my father. She lives in the shadows when he's home and never has anything positive to say about him. I feel sorry for her for having so much jealousy in her heart that it's distorted her view of my father and the world. I know my father loves me, that he isn't the horrible person my mother says he is.
My brow creases as I ponder Diana's words about the all-female staff. “I don’t think it’s my purity, Diana. I think it’s because my father wants to keep me safe. He wants me to have a happy life, and he’ll do anything to ensure that,” I finally answer.
I pick up a grape from the selection of fruits in a bowl on the table to hide how Diana’s doubts only add to my own. I'm not ready to examine those doubts in detail. Not yet. I much prefer my version of what motivates my father because to consider anything else is unthinkable. “He loves me so much that he wants only what’s best for me.”
Diana’s mouth pulls up as though she’s tasted something awful, showing that she doubts me, but I know my words are true. “It’s why I was homeschooled, why he only employed female teachers and tutors for me. He knows the evils of the world, being as powerful as he is. He wants to protect me.”
Even to my ears, my words lack conviction. I want to get on with my life. I'm twenty-one. Isn't it time I found a man, settled down, do all the…stuff I'm not supposed to know about? “But I have to admit, I don’t know how I’m ever going to find a man to give myself to if I’m never allowed to meet any.”
Diana purses her lips and shakes her head. “You aren’t. I think that’s the idea.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, frowning as I pop another grape into my mouth. Does Diana know something I don't?
Diana's expression clears, and she waves her hand dismissively. “Nothing. Don’t pay any attention to me. It’s not like I’m privy to your father’s plans. Come on, it's time to get in the shower and dress. He’ll want you ready for tonight’s ball.”
She gets up from her chair, her hand out to help me up—not that I need it, but the guards have been taught to always anticipate my needs. I'm tired of it.
When Diana’s fingers meet mine, I look into her green eyes. For a second, I see a flicker of hesitation and… sympathy? It's gone as quickly as it appeared, making me think I imagined it.
I sigh, walk into the bathroom, and close my eyes as I lean against the counter. This is the only time I have any privacy. Even when I'm asleep, guards are positioned close by. Occasionally, I sneak away from one for a half hour or so, but not very often. When I'm in the bathroom, I'm finally, truly alone.
Sliding the white, silk nightgown from my body, I turn on the shower and step under the flow of hot water. I'm the only person who's touched the intimate places on my body since I was old enough to bathe myself. I’ve explored some of those places a few times, but even in the sanctity of the bathroom, privacy is short-lived and timed. I have twenty minutes to do what I need before Diana follows orders and brings me out of the bathroom. The only time that rule is broken is if I'm sick, and then the guards are meant to check on me every ten minutes.
I sigh, wondering where this itch to break the rules is coming from. I feel this new need to rebel, to run away. I'd never do it, but still, I want to live, not hide behind walls and women my entire life. Maybe tonight, during the ball, I'll ask my father about meeting some eligible men. Maybe.
My father’s moods can be erratic. He's always happy in my presence, but I've h eard him yelling at my mother and the staff. I've always worked hard to please him and prevent that kind of behavior from being aimed at me. Once, I was certain I heard him slap my mother after she called him a perverted monster. I didn't understand that remark, but I knew it was something about me and how my father loved me.
With a deep sigh, I rinse off the soap I've slathered all over my body before stepping out and wrapping a towel around myself. I open the door slightly to let Diana know I'm finished washing. My gaze lingers on the other woman for a moment. What if I invite Diana inside? Invite her to… explore?
Nope.
I shake my head. I may have zero experience, but I know I’m not attracted to women that way. It's more… curiosity. Wanting a deeper connection with someone. Keep a girl locked up her entire life, and she's bound to speculate about the nature of sexuality and all that comes with it.
I glance down at my ring. I promised to keep myself pure, a promise my father holds me to every day. And I adore my father, so no matter how much I may ache and itch and fantasize, I'll ignore these new sensations, ignore this need that seems to be taking control of my body.
I'd walk through fire for my father because he’d do the same for me.
Chapter Two
Mammon
“And why do you think you deserve all this wealth and fame, Leon?” I ask the man with a pasty complexion. His hard blue eyes are chips of glacial ice, his hair so pale that it's almost silver.
“I’m tired of living like a dirtbag, man. People treat me like I’m stupid all the time, but I know how to make money. They just won’t listen to me.” Leon shakes his silvery head, his mouth a hateful red slash. “That’s why I came to you. Word on the street is that you trade stuff to make dreams come true.”
I smile, tapping my long, black talons against my equally black beard as I lean forward on my throne. “Right. Stuff. You do understand what that stuff is, right?”
“Yeah, something I don’t need, man. I am who I am. What am I gonna do with a soul if it keeps me tied down in poverty and obscurity? I got sick beats, man, tracks people need to hear, and ideas that could make millions if I can get someone to listen.” Leon licks his lips in a way that makes my mouth curl in disgust. But this is my endless duty—to trade and collect souls for Lucifer. In return, the newly soulless will have all of their dreams fulfilled. Even if that means killing, stealing, and anything else along the way to get what they desire.
“Fine, fine, whatever you want.” I wave my hand, and a pre-filled parchment, a silvery sharp scalpel, and a quill appear from thin air. “Fill this in, sign it, and all your dreams will come true.”
Leon doesn't even blink as he takes the items to a table. He cuts a slit in his palm, uses his blood to write his name, and signs the document with the quill.
I sigh as I take the document. With a flick of my wrist, I send Leon back to The Above to live out his dream. Little does he know the nightmare that awaits him when he returns here in twenty-two years, dead from an overdose. Seeing the future of those who pledge their souls is one of the dubious "perks" of this job.
Another eager soul steps forward from the darkness, rubbing his hands together and licking his lips in a similar way to Leon.
I cringe inwardly, wondering why young men think this is the thing to do. They all look as though they're in dire need of lip balm and some water to wash their hands.
Like Leon, the young man starts talking about his sick beats and plans to conquer the world through his music. I tune the kid out. I'd rather stick a fork up my ass than listen to his drivel.
Greedy.
These humans are so fucking greedy.
And as I'm the demon of greed, it's my role to satisfy their avarice and facilitate the trade of their eternal souls for the devil. I'm not greedy myself. I'm more weary than anything. Restless. Bored with this job, bored with my task of torturing souls for eons, and just bored in general. Maybe I'll spend my next break in The Above with the humans and monsters. Maybe find a lover.
The guy continues as I stare on, not listening. After a few moments, I summon the same materials I gave to Leon before calling for the next in line.
Instead, a familiar form appears in front of me, stopping what little semblance of time there is down here.
As a creature of Hell myself, Lucifer shouldn’t frighten or shake me in any way. But when he pops up like this, I always brace for bad news. His presence is a reminder that he’s my eternal boss and can do awful things to me if he chooses, despite my power.
He stands before me with a grin like a chasm on his licorice-black face. Razor-sharp teeth peek out along with a tongue as red as the fiery pits of hell. His muscles gleam darker than night, a shade that doesn't even exist in The Above.
At least he hasn't appeared as a hellhound. He’s done that before. Bastard thought it was amusing to curl one down next to my throne. Took two days to get rid of the stench.
“Mammon, my favorite demon,” Lucifer greets.
My right eye twitches. I’m only his favorite because greed is the easiest way to get him the souls he needs. Lust is a close second but is confined to a certain percentage of the population.
For me, it’s a job. But for him, this is what he needs. More souls. Always more souls.
“You seem bored,” he snaps before I can say anything.
“You know I relish all this power you afford me,” I tell him, forcing myself to look into his fiery eyes, a red-orange blazing back at me. I don’t know why I’m so bothered today. I haven’t been frightened of him in at least a century. But my skin crawls at his presence today. “But I have to say it’s become monotonous lately. They all want the same thing. It's too…easy.”
Maybe that dose of honesty will garner a reaction or at least encourage him to leave me the fuck alone.
“I thought you found the easy life desirable, Mammon. Don’t you love your little trips to The Above?” The sarcasm in his voice is followed by a chuckle that shakes the foundations of The Below, and my throne quivers beneath me.
“Only because it lacks the usual routine.” I pretend to admire my black talons, which shine like Lucifer’s skin. He’s always been sensitive about my draw to The Above. There are so many diversions on the surface, whether it be attacks from my enemies, humans making constant mistakes, or all the clubs, casinos, and shopping at my disposal. “I don’t always hate my job, Lucifer, but the humans you’ve been sending me are not interesting or challenging.”
Lucifer leans on the arm of my throne, looking thoughtful. “I'm not too arrogant that I cannot take that into account." He pauses, smiling evilly. "Who am I kidding? Of course, I'm too arrogant. I'm the King of Hell." He taps a sharp claw against his chin. "Still, you are my most successful demon. It’s why I let you have your little diversions without interruption and ensure you are protected from the enemies you’ve made while in my dominion.”
The King of the Underworld towers over me as he straightens to his full height and begins to pace. “I have someone who wants to make a deal of a different kind. He and the next few souls will be more to your liking. Keep up those numbers, Mammon. You know I like a steady influx of souls, or I get… grumpy." His forked tongue slithers out to lick his lips. "Fresh souls are so delicious."
His words are a clear threat, though they don't bother me unduly. It’s part of the deal here, and I’ve never had trouble keeping Lucifer sated when it comes to souls.
I open my mouth to acknowledge what he’s said, but he's already fucked off in a puff of glitter. Fucking glitter. That stuff gets everywhere. Asshole.
The next human steps forward—an infertile woman who wants children more than anything. Children for manipulation and revenge, oddly enough. How…nurturing.
These people have no idea that they're setting themselves up for painful, horrifying payments later on down the line, but the greedy never think about tomorrow. They think about what they want in the here and now. It's all that matters to them.
The next few souls are a little more interesting, but none are "different" in the way Lucifer promised. Where is the man Lucifer referred to?
Time passes like the slow trickle of molasses as it always does in The Below, never moving in a straight line. I sigh heavily as I grab the arrowhead-shaped tip of my writhing tail and study the next man. He's not young, but his greed rolls off him in waves. He also seems to be from a different time than the others. It's not always easy to tell. Time jumps around in my universe. This is the man with a "deal of a different kind" that Lucifer promised. I'm… intrigued.
