by Jacey Ward
“It’s okay,” he murmured, pulling back to stroke her face. “I won’t leave you again. I swear.”
Her hands encircled his neck and she pulled him back toward her, sighing deeply as they locked into another embrace, the heat between them rising.
For the first time in years, Dante felt right, his body pressed to hers as she bucked forward to feel the bulge at his crotch.
Her fingers twined into his hair almost painfully but he was far too caught up in the moment to notice the anger in her clutch, even as she forced his face along the ridge of her chin.
She smelled the same and yet different as if her pheromones had evolved, the scent of her skin driving him wilder, his kisses becoming bullets of lava, splotching along her shoulders.
Arya pulled him back, her calves contacting the window seat where she fell, pushing his face lower into her bosom.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he groaned, his mouth teasing along the flesh of her breasts.
“Show me,” she purred and he yanked the bodice of her shimmering gown lower to expose the dark pink skin of her nipples.
Suctioning onto her, he dropped to his knees, her legs parting as his palms lifted the delicate material of her skirts.
Arya groaned, her back falling against the cushions, her legs rising toward his shoulders and he slid her silk panties around her curvy thighs, casting them aside.
“Lick me,” she ordered, her voice barely a whisper but he could hear the edge in her tone.
She has changed, a voice in his head called out but Dante was far too entranced in the juices between her legs to pay any mind to the warning.
She had every right to be angry, to feel betrayed.
He would have to make it up to her, starting with that moment.
Arya gasped when his tongue met the pulsating nub of her center, her ass rising to meet his face fully and he squeezed her cheeks between his palms, pushing them both into a rhythm.
Up and down her hips moved, his lips locking against her sopping cleft and beneath him, Arya began to tremble.
Cum for me, he told her silently, his laps growing more demanding, his tongue working feverishly.
Arya cried out, her sensual frame spasming as she bolted upright. Their eyes met and as a spray of hot liquid rained over his face, he saw the naked plaintiveness in her face.
She was trying to play it cool but she missed me just as much as I missed her, he realized, slowing untangling his mouth from her dripping middle.
The aroma of her filled his nostrils and while he wanted to mount her, pinning her mercilessly to the seat of the window, there was something about her expression which stopped him cold. He raised his body toward her, pausing to trace the line of her face with his fingertips.
“Hey,” he said. “Are you okay?”
She smiled and nodded, shifting her eyes away but not before he could see the look of naked confusion in her face.
“Arya, I swear, I won’t leave you again,” he told her huskily. “Do you believe me?”
“Yes,” she breathed. “I do. I just need some time to process all this, Dante. I -I need to talk to you about something but I need a minute.”
He nodded slowly and rose adjusting his tux as he did.
“Take all the time you need,” he told her quietly. “Come and find me when you’re ready.”
She nodded and tried to smile but tears had filled her eyes.
“Hey, everything is going to be okay, now. I’ve got your back.”
She didn’t respond and he turned to leave, his heart still pounding.
I should have tried harder to find her. She’s been through hell. I can see it in her face.
But as he made his way into the hallway, closing the door behind him, he knew that Arya had not wanted to be found. She needed to find him on her own terms and there they were.
She’s in trouble. I can feel it. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out.
“Boss!”
Shax appeared in his face, his squealy voice grating on Dante’s nerves.
“What is it?” he asked, annoyed to have his good mood diminished even slightly.
“Arya Ambrose, boss,” the demon minion screeched. “She’s here. You saw her and let her in!”
“I know, Shax. Thank you for the update,” he retorted sarcastically, shoving past.
“Dantalion!”
The sound of his full name made him pause in mid-step and he turned to stare at Shax in surprise.
“What?” he demanded, a peculiar feeling of danger starting in the pit of his stomach.
“It’s her. She’s the one responsible for all the thefts on the Strip.”
“How can you know that?” Dante demanded.
“I found security footage of half a dozen heists. I ran her face through the facial recognition software and that’s why she was flagged here, boss. I’m sorry. Henry said he tried to warn you but…”
Shax trailed off, knowing his boss would not like to be reminded that he had allowed a security threat into the mansion.
Disappointment crept through him but Dante was not as shocked as he should have been. On some level, he had suspected as much.
That is what she wanted to talk to me about. She got mixed up in something and she can’t get out of it.
“Thank you, Shax. I’ll deal with her.”
“No, boss, it’s worse than that,” Shax insisted. “She works for Rowan.”
A mental picture of the icy high priestess gave Dante an unpleasant sensation in his gut. He’d had occasion to deal with her over a dozen times over the centuries and he was not filled with fond recollections of the cold blonde.
That power-hungry wench. Still, not surprising. Rowan has her tentacles in everything. Arya was probably manipulated by her. I should have taken care of that witch years ago. Now I have an excuse.
“All right, Shax, I’ll – “
“Boss, Rowan has been working with Uvall. You need to get Arya Ambrose out of this house because I think she’s here to steal – “
An alarm screamed, reverberating through the mansion with fury and the demons stared at one another, a look of understanding flooding both their faces simultaneously.
“The Chasm of Guile,” Dante choked, whirling back toward the library where he had left Arya alone with the invaluable book.
But of course, she was gone, along with the precious artifact, the window leading to the rose garden shattered at the pane.
Dante was consumed by rage and humiliation.
Arya had never missed him, never thought about him. She was there on a job.
He had been played in the worst way imaginable by a woman he had thought about almost every single day for the past three years.
Nobody played Dantalion Carmichael for a fool.
There would be blood for this.
Chapter 9
She was sure her lungs were going to burst, her body weak and exhausted both physically and emotionally when she arrived back at the house in Hawthorne Hills.
Arya had barely made it over the estate walls without being caught, the alarm shrieking at her back as she ran with the book.
Even though she made it to her getaway car without issue, she was finding it impossible to catch her breath.
“Were you followed?” Circe demanded, noting her face and Arya shook her head.
“Of course not!” she chided, sliding the Chasm of Guile onto the table. “Obviously I wouldn’t have come here if I had been.”
Circe didn’t look convinced and she peered out of the drawn blinds to ensure that the door to the bungalow was not about to be stormed.
The lack of anything nefarious seemed to put her mind at ease, at least for the moment, and she turned back to Arya.
“How is Jasmine?”
“She’s sleeping. No change,” Circe replied, edging toward her friend, her hands outstretched to look at the book but Arya held it back, wanting to see what she had risked her life to grab.
It’s
worth it. You can’t be taken by whatever proclamations Dante made. He said the same bullshit before, and he left you then. You’re not going to fall for the same thing twice and you’re not exposing your child to such a dangerous man. He would probably take Jasmine from you and you would never see her again if you gave him the chance.
But as she stood staring at the pages in her hands a wave of guilt and excitement washed over her in unison.
He had seemed so sincere…
“Did you see him?” Circe asked and Arya realized her friend was reading her thoughts.
“Yes, but I don’t want to talk about it right now. Not when we have the most valuable book in the universe in front of us.”
“Open it!” Circe urged. Arya did not need to be told a second time. She cautiously pulled the heavy cover open and they gasped.
Indeed, it was a living, breathing creation, one which had been around as long as time itself.
No one knew from where the book had come, exactly. It was older than the Earth and had outlived even the most immortal souls, growing and evolving to include the influences of all immortals who had come in contact with it.
Yet as she gaped at the miracle which was the Chasm, she had no idea what she was staring at. It was not encoded, per se, but it seemed to be as clear as an encrypted computer program.
Neither Arya nor Circe had the know-how to decipher the spells or secrets in its depths. Someone more powerful than them would need to examine it.
“I have to get the book to Rowan,” Arya muttered but her friend didn’t seem to hear her, as Circe’s eyes were fixated on the priceless book.
Arya turned from the room as she heard a noise down the hall.
“I’ll be right back, Circe. Keep an eye on the book!” she whispered harshly as she crept stealthily toward the bedrooms to check on Jasmine.
Finding nothing amiss, she ducked into the room to look upon her daughter. Her heart welled with concern as she perched on the edge of the toddler’s bed, reaching forward to straighten the matted red curls around Jasmine’s face.
The girl’s face was waxen, even in the dim nightlight aura and Arya’s mouth pursed together.
She was on borrowed time for Jasmine.
“Fight just a little longer, baby,” she whispered, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Mama will come back for you in a little bit.”
Arya rose and hurried into her bedroom to change, throwing on a black Adidas tracksuit and black t-shirt. She stuffed her ginger waves under a ballcap and shoved her feet into a pair of running shoes, making her way back toward the front of the house.
“You shouldn’t go alone,” Circe told her, looking up from where she remained staring at the book. “I don’t trust Rowan.”
Arya scoffed.
“You just came up with this now? The entire purpose of this was to trust Rowan,” she retorted. “Give me the book.”
Circe’s head cocked to the side, her stylish blue-black curls falling over her forehead.
“Something’s not right,” she insisted. “I feel like you’re being set up.”
Arya ignored the tingle of fear sliding through her body.
“What other choice do I have?” she muttered, grabbing the Chasm of Guile and throwing it into a canvas bag. “Jasmine’s life is on the line.”
Circe studied her face.
“How did you get it?” she asked curiously, and Arya’s face flushed crimson.
“I told you, I snuck into the fundraiser.”
“And you just happened upon it while security was milling around?”
“What do you want me to say, Circe?” Arya said defensively. “I’m that good.”
The goddess’ eyes widened with understanding.
“You seduced him!” she gasped, an amused smile touching her lips. “That’s how you got in and out without being killed.” Circe whooped with glee. “He so deserved that! After the way he left you, I’m just grateful you got to stick it to him once,” she crowed.
“I don’t have time for this,” Arya muttered, spinning to leave the house. “I’m taking your car.”
But even as she left, Circe’s words of caution inside the house reverberated in her mind.
The truth was, she had gone there to seduce Dante, believing that if she saw him again, it would end the ridiculous “what if” which had been playing in her mind.
She had convinced herself that Dante was as cruel as his reputation, someone who could not be trusted – especially with a child! For years she had kept him purposely in the dark about his daughter, feeling that it was in Jasmine’s best interest, but seeing him that night, she just wasn’t so sure anymore.
He’s just seduced me with his demonic charms – again. I know now that he’s dangerous and can turn me to putty with a simple look. The best thing I can do, is stay away – far away. Now that I’ve stolen from him, his true colors will surely show and I’ll know I made the right decision back then. I’m sure he has his minions tearing up the Strip right now looking for me. Once Jasmine is cured, we’ll get out of Seattle and go somewhere safe, somewhere he can’t find us.
First things first; Jasmine needed the Shroud of Protection.
As she backed Circe’s Prius out of the driveway, her friend’s accusation rang in her mind.
“You seduced him!”
Arya pressed her foot to the gas and zipped up Sand Point Way toward I-5, her heart beating guiltily.
It was true; she had gone to the charity event with the intention of finding Dantalion Carmichael and seducing him. She wanted to reclaim the upper hand he seemed to have had over her since the minute they had met.
The primary things she was feeling weren’t the smugness and satisfaction she thought she would feel right now, though.
Instead, she felt more confused than ever, questioning what she was about to do.
It’s not too late, she told herself. You can return the Chasm and beg him for forgiveness and maybe he’ll spare your life. He might even let you use the book and you can find another priestess to enact the Shroud.
Arya dismissed the weak thought, chiding herself silently for being so easy to give in to his wiles yet again.
Once bitten, twice bitten harder? she accused herself.
He had already proved that he couldn’t be trusted. All the excuses in the world would not change the fact that he was the most vicious demon of all and a lord of the Deviant underworld.
Begging for forgiveness was never an advisable action in their world – it just showed weakness and told others she was ripe for the picking. No, she had to fight her way out of this just like she always did. Don’t depend on anyone but yourself! That’s the only motto that could guarantee anything, most importantly Jasmine’s safety.
A bitter moan of resignation escaped Arya’s lips.
There was no going back now. Rowan was a sure thing. Dante had a bad track record. The choice was clear. She had to follow through with her promise to Rowan.
The psychic shop was lit up, an eerie glow against the seedy street.
Arya had not forewarned the high priestess that she was coming that night, but oftentimes, Rowan could anticipate her arrivals.
Still, she sat in the car, unmoving, her green eyes fixed on the shop for signs of movement within, waiting for anyone to exit so she could be at least a little surer that Rowan would be alone.
Interrupting Rowan while she was with a client would surely result in the sorceress’s wrath, no matter what prize Arya had. Yet as the minutes passed, her stress levels mounted and Arya could wait no longer – not when her child’s health lay in the balance.
She jumped from the car and hurried toward the entranceway, pulling the door open in a rush and squeezing the prized book to her chest as she entered the hazy shop.
It was the quintessential spiritualist shop, decorated with bronze suns and silver moons. The Eye of Providence hung conspicuously in three spots beyond a beaded curtain, and as Arya ventured further inside the small shop, the scent of nag c
hampa incense filled her nostrils.
She didn’t hear voices at first, as she moved past the makeshift partition toward the back office where she saw that the door was closed.
“…done it, I’m sure. Any moment, we’ll know.” Rowan’s voice floated to her ears and Arya pushed forward, hand raised to knock and let her teacher know she had arrived.
“I’m looking forward to meeting this girl,” a man said and Arya felt her body stiffen at the sound of his voice. “It takes a great deal of balls to do something like that.”
Who is that? Arya wondered, alarm coursing through her. She could sense an inky darkness beyond the door, but she couldn’t place where the voice came from.
Do I know that man? His voice isn’t familiar and yet…
“She had the proper motivation,” Rowan replied, her tone almost a purr of satisfaction. “If the reward is good enough, you can get anyone to do anything at all.”
“You must tell me what you offered her, Rowan. I can’t imagine that anyone would be stupid enough to take on Dantalion Carmichael unless she had a death wish.”
Rowan chuckled dryly.
“And yet you’re taking him on, aren’t you, Uvall?” she challenged him.
There was an ominous silence and suddenly, Arya knew there was a demon within the shop.
The demon Uvall is here and they’re talking about me! They’re talking about the book. Rowan lied to me. She doesn’t want the Chasm. She’s giving it to another demon!
Arya didn’t have to be told the repercussions of what would happen if the book fell into the wrong demon hands. There was a reason it had always only been bequeathed to the most powerful demons.
What were you thinking? Of course, the book would be of no benefit to Rowan alone. You just stole from a Deviant overlord and abetted a mutiny! Oh, fuck my life. This just keeps getting better.
“I feel like you’re mocking me, Rowan,” Uvall said pleasantly, the lack of malice in his voice proving to be a terrifying indicator of the power he held. “And I think you know how much I despise being mocked.”
“I’m not! I swear!” Rowan squealed, her voice higher than Arya had ever heard it.