Lyx was a demon. Weren’t they supposed to want to torment humankind? Lies were easy to their lips, her mother had warned Erica of that. But…. ‘You can trust your men,’ Sybil had said once a long time ago, confusing her with the plural. ‘They’re the one exception. Always trust them, but no other demon.’ Erica had almost forgotten that comment. And no surprise since she’d been fourteen when her mother made the statement. She recognized them as the men she drew, too. Private artwork she allowed no one to glimpse because the men had come from her dreams, and she cherished their memories. It’d been important to her to place them on paper accurately, so she’d spent hours honing those pieces of art. Lyx drew her from her reverie by palming her throat, while Troz pinched her clitoris. The unexpected pleasure jolted her with a jerk, shifting Lyx’s erection inside her. Sweet baby Jesus!
