Damian looked so different with his shirt off and a crop in his hand. He felt more real: no longer wearing the mask of the good doctor, he was the Exorcist, the master over my wildest fears, the stones on the shore over which my ocean of madness could crash without fear. He trailed the crop over my throat, down my chest. "Your demons have not been playing nicely," he said, a warning in his tone. Goosebumps prickled up my arms as the smooth leather teased over my navel. "No, sir. They haven't. They don't much like you." He grinned, and it was such a wicked sight that my stomach clenched up with desire. I desperately wanted to feel those teeth, the softness of those lips. Patience was nearly impossible. "I must admit I don't much like them either," he growled. "Turn around. Hands on the wall. Spread your legs." I obeyed, my breath catching in my throat. I felt him lean close, his breath hot on my neck as he left kisses along my hairline. "But they don't own your body, do they, darling? Who owns this body?" "I do, sir." My breathing shuddered. The crop tapped between my thighs. "That's right. And who have you chosen to give your body to?" "To you, sir." × × × 18 year old Samara Garfield is on the run - from her past, from her desires, from the wicked voices in her head. Everything seems to be catching up with her when she meets Damian Hearst, a doctor with perverted desires of his own. With a legion of demonic beings eager to overtake her, the good doctor may indeed be the only one who can save her. But as their dark pasts become ever more entangled and hope for salvation begins to fade, can love grow in the face of death?