by Jacey Ward
Seeing an opportunity, Chase quickly jumped up and lurched forward, grabbing the amulet off the floor.
While Katheryn continued to sob loudly and rock her dead daughter in her arms, Chase realized that the demon was waiting for commands from the holder of the amulet. Chase saw his chance to destroy the amulet and free the love of his life. He looked the demon in the eye. “Don’t move a step,” he ordered.
The demon eyed him curiously as Chase hurled the amulet into the enormous, sizzling fireplace. The power given off by the amulet immediately caused a giant explosion and bright blue and orange flames quickly began to engulf the entire room.
The demon’s eyes grew wide and it roared out in pain as its physical body burst into flames. Chase hurriedly ran over to free Ava. He cut away her bonds with the sword, and hauled her off the contraption and into his arms.
Ava’s eyes lit up with relief as the man she loved came to her rescue.
“Chase! You came for me!” Ava exclaimed, as a grateful smile spread across her tear-streaked face.
“I told you I would protect you with my life, Ava,” he whispered softly into her hair.
“Come on, we’ve got to go!” he shouted over Katheryn’s shrill, sorrow-filled cries of grief, and the loud crackling of the rapidly spreading fire.
Chase quickly ripped off his shirt and wrapped Ava’s trembling, naked body in it. Sweeping her into his strong arms again, he whisked her across the burning room and out of the basement door to safety.
Seeing the huge fire that had engulfed the Bradenton manor, the residents all came together and eventually put the fire out. After cleaning up the rubble and debris, they eventually came across the charred, severely burned remains of Katheryn and her daughter Azalea. The demon’s body was never found. Chase’s mother was sure it had been sent to the Underworld because of the destruction of the Necrostone, hopefully never to be seen again.
2½ Months Later: Chase’s 100th Birthday
Chase stood proudly at the front of the community hall dressed up in an expensive dark suit and silk tie. His deep blue eyes sparkled in the light of the room as he watched the love of his life walk down the narrow aisle until she finally joined him at the podium.
“Chase Victor Veldassare, I hereby pronounce you and Ava Hartzman mates for life. You may now kiss the very first human First Lady of the Veldassare Vampire Clan!”
The words of the Veldassare Elder rang out throughout the community center. Chase took his beautiful human bride into his arms and kissed her passionately as the large crowd broke out into a round of applause and excited shouts of approval.
THE END
AND COMING SOON by JACEY WARD!
A sorceress thief, and a powerful demon lord.
One night of scorching-hot passion, one promise to return.
That’s all Arya had left to remind her of the demon who walked away that morning – and never came back.
Well, that, and her daughter, Jasmine. The beautiful child, born into two Deviant worlds.
But the two halves of her little soul were fighting for dominance, her life force dimming with every day that passed – Aurelia wouldn’t live much longer without a cure.
The bigger problem? The only person with an artifact powerful enough to help her little girl, is Dante - the child’s cruel and heartless father, who had abandoned Arya after their night of passion, offering false promises and touching endearments that turned out to be lies in the end. Or were they?
Thankfully, Arya is the most talented thief in the sorceress world - can she steal the Chasm of Guile without getting caught?
She'll do anything in her power to protect her daughter - including keeping her little girl’s existence a secret from her coldhearted demon father. The rumors flying about Dante say that he’s a vicious enemy to have…
Is she good enough to steal Dante’s most prized possession…right out from under him?
TURN THE PAGE FOR A SAMPLE OF THIS EXCITING STORY!
Prologue -Three Years Ago
“This place is a complete donut fest,” Circe announced. “Let’s go to the new Deviant’s bar on Escala.”
“A donut fest? What the hell does that even mean?” Arya asked, as she looked around the club. It looked just like any other bar they had frequented on the Sapphire Strip that night; filled with too many people and colorful, yet expensive beverages.
Even sangra cost twenty dollars a glass. The steep price tag alone kept Arya from being drunk. She had lost her resolve to get drunk and party three shitholes ago, but her bestie was still raring to go, her eyes glowing amber in the strobes of the club lighting. The music was too loud and Arya was wrestling with a headache, likely induced by the high concentration of fructose in the drinks here that was meant to disguise that the drink was not pure Deviant alcohol.
This is what I get for hanging out with a Valkyrie. Who can compete with a Norse goddess? Why do I do this to myself? Dammit, I’m not the spring chicken I was two hundred years ago!
Circe laughed, shaking her iridescent curls of black and blue. She was stunningly tall and devastatingly beautiful, two traits which served her well as a model in the human world.
“Donut fest means, if you ain’t got a dick, nothing’s gonna stick,” she replied, throwing up her hands at Arya’s ignorance. “Look at the male to female ratio in here. All bitches, no cock.”
“When has that ever stopped you before?” Arya asked with a brow raised. “You’ve never been particular.”
“Oh, come on. You know full well that I am a full meat eater. No muffin munching for me – no matter how much I flirt and joke…and occasionally snack…”
Arya had to snicker at her friend’s comment, but she wasn’t ready to leave. Not when she had just spent half her cash on a double…something or other. She wasn’t exactly certain what the Lycan bartender had thrust at her, but she knew she wasn’t leaving until she had finished it. No matter how much of a headache it caused. She was ninety percent sure she had the right herbs to counteract the morning nausea if need be.
“Let’s feel it out,” Arya replied, reaching a slender hand toward the bar. “Ten minutes, okay?”
Circe grunted in response but Arya didn’t notice. As she went to wrap her fingers around her drink, someone grabbed her wrist.
It wasn’t rough, but it startled her all the same. And then a deep and commanding voice caused a surge of electricity to run through her body.
“I believe that drink is mine.”
Arya turned her head toward the voice, baring her brilliant white teeth menacingly. And just like that, she was prepared for battle. It wouldn’t be the first tussle she had encountered in the past four hours and it most likely would not be the last. The Strip was not a place for the weak; which is why the mortals stayed far away.
Another fight that night meant nothing to her. And Circe was always in the mood to kick some immortal ass.
But the expression froze on her lips as she found herself lost in a set of prism-like eyes of violet, green and blue, blending together in mirage swirl. They continued to move as she watched him and it suddenly seemed the pulsating vibes of the club melted around her, leaving only her with the stranger gripping her wrist.
“No, it isn’t,” Arya replied slowly, her words seeming to lose their bite as she spoke them, her unusually slow heartrate picking up as they stared at one another. “It’s mine.”
She refrained from adding her usual scathing comment to the assertion, as if something was holding her back.
Maybe my libido? she thought with an internal eyeroll.
But it wasn’t just the ethereal eyes. In her world, supernatural features were a dime a dozen, after all. That was precisely why she and Circe had chosen to hang out on the Strip that night; to be around their own. That meant dazzling eyes, unrealistically beautiful features, and mystic auras were commonplace. Almost all “genetically challenged”, or should we say “ugly” immortals, had the ability to change their appearance. Those who were ugly but
didn’t possess the camouflaging skill usually lived belowground. Her and Circe were naturally beautiful, and damn thankful for it. But immortals could usually see through another’s glamour – or at least detect that there was a ‘false front’ on the shop window, so to speak. Arya was immediately hit with this guy’s real self. And it was breathtaking.
It wasn’t simply the eldritch manner about him, nor the way he appeared almost fully human with a naturally tousled mass of chestnut waves framing his regal cheekbones. It wasn’t only his tantalizing full mouth which seemed to monopolize her gaze. It wasn’t just that he was towering over her, his broad shoulders blocking the view of all behind him.
There was something else, something elusive and commanding, something that Arya wanted to possess – or be possessed by.
She felt combative suddenly, maybe because her body’s attraction to the guy pissed her off. She never allowed her hormones to make decisions for her, but at that moment, they were pulling out all the stops and performing cartwheels to invite the stranger right on in! So she pulled the drink toward her and took a defiant gulp.
His tight smile seemed to broaden slightly, his eyes boring into hers beneath the flashing lights of the seedy club, as if amused that she had challenged him.
Careful, Circe called to her silently, her tone fraught with alarm. He’s a demon.
Of course, Arya had already known that. She wasn’t a fool, nor was she new to the scene. A demon presence would not bode well for any of them if she managed to piss him off – and the witch on her shoulder thought that she might actually try to do that.
Never a good idea, and she needed to get her attitude under control, like now. Even with Circe close by, a demon could overpower her with a mere look if he wanted. But for some inexplicable reason, Arya simply did not care. His magnetism had taken a hold of her, one which she had never experienced before.
He raised a hand, and for an unsettling moment, she thought he was going to shatter her dreamlike illusion by striking out at her with his power, and thereby leading to a magical mess of chaos. She readied herself, conjuring the darkness inside her on standby. Even though he was undoubtedly stronger, she would not go down without a fight.
She was Arya Ambrose. She bowed down to no one.
But instead of attacking her, he reached across the bar and grabbed another glass, a drink which had been sitting in the spot between her and Circe, untouched.
Her drink.
An unfamiliar emotion shocked Arya’s body as she realized her gaffe, and she gaped at the demon with sheepish eyes.
If he strikes me down right now, I would totally deserve it, she thought, but she wondered what else he could do. Never had she been so interested in demon powers until that moment. It wasn’t as if they ran in the same circles after all.
“My mistake,” he told her, a bemused smirk covering his perfect face, taking a swig of her concoction. Instantly, his face twisted into a scowl of disapproval.
“I don’t remember ordering such a…sweet tasting drink,” he continued, obviously determined to keep up with tormenting her. “This tastes – “
“Girly?” Arya offered and he chuckled.
You’re playing with fire, Arya. Literally, Circe hissed silently, but Arya waved her away as if she was an annoying pixie.
“You should listen to your friend,” the demon told her, leaning in to whisper in her ear and Arya bristled, realizing that he had heard the Valkyrie speak into her mind.
“I can take care of myself,” she replied, turning her head slightly to cast Circe a warning look, green eyes narrowing dangerously.
The goddess returned her gaze, saffron eyes shimmering with intelligence, but she did not speak again.
“Dantalion,” he offered, extending a manicured hand toward her. “My friends call me Dante.”
Arya slipped her hand into his, her small palm seeming to disappear inside his, their gazes locking.
“Arya Ambrose. My friends don’t call. They text.”
He chuckled at her little joke and Arya was embarrassed at her lame attempt to flirt. It had been a long time since anyone had grabbed her attention, and it had been never since anyone had a hold on her like this.
“This doesn’t seem like your scene,” Dante commented, reluctant to release her hand and Arya didn’t pull it back. The attraction had only intensified on contact and the heady feeling swimming through her body had nothing to do with the Lycan-made drink she had sucked back moments before.
She was captivated by this guy, his movements, the line of his face.
A spark of panic formed in her heart, a glimpse of the future teasing at the edges of her consciousness. But she pushed it away, stopping it from manifesting completely. She was enjoying this encounter with this powerful demon. Nothing else had caught her awareness like this in years. She didn’t want a pall cast on the moment, and a premonition almost always did exactly that. She just wanted to enjoy the moment genuinely and without mythic influences.
“No?” she replied. “So this more your scene then?”
He laughed and it was the most sensual sound Arya had ever heard in all her hundreds of years on the planet. Deep and rumbling like the rain she adored so much, the storms which kept her living in Seattle, despite her ability to go anywhere in the world.
“I don’t think the Sapphire Strip is anyone’s scene,” he countered and Arya grinned, her lips parting to reveal an array of even, ivory teeth. “But what choice do we really have if we want to escape the mortals, am I right?”
“I can think of a place.”
She was shocked that the words had left her mouth. Circe’s eyes bulged at the invitation, her friend shocked by Arya’s behavior. Arya was usually the responsible one, the one who thought about consequences before jumping into the fire, or in this case, jumping into bed with the fire.
Dante’s face was so close, she could smell the musky scent of his cologne and it made her breasts tingle with awareness.
“I’m always open to trying new things,” he told her quietly, and for a moment, Arya wasn’t certain that he had even spoken. His voice seemed to fill her endlessly, as if it was everywhere but coming from nowhere.
“Then we should get out of here.”
It really was unlike her to suggest such a brazen thing, and she briefly entertained the possibility that he had her under a spell. But then she discarded that notion. Her sorceress senses would detect any spell. He may be more powerful than her overall, but when it came to spells, he wouldn’t be able to touch her. Something else was happening between them, something even the Deviants of the underworld could not combat; a mutual bond, a powerful attraction.
Between a sorceress and a demon.
This was surreal. Their species generally stuck to their own. It was kind of like a law of nature, and yet, she knew in her heart that she and Dante would be together that night, that nothing could keep them apart. And when she looked into his gaze, she knew that he felt it too; their bodies rising in synonymous heat, their fingers still laced from what had begun under the pretense of a handshake.
“Your place or mine?” he asked.
“Well, judging by those eight thousand-dollar shoes, I bet mine is closer.”
~ ~ ~
The door to the flimsy apartment had barely closed at her back, but already, her mini skirt was strewn over a table lamp, and a stiletto lay in the hallway. Arya didn’t notice anything but the heady taste of him, as their lips meshed, a sensuous combination of mouths and tongues.
She danced his huge body backward, tripping over obstacles in the way, but Dante held fast to her, their forms melding together in an erotic embrace.
Arya couldn’t say how he had lost his own clothing, but the shirt and pants were long gone before they hit the small bedroom. Dante kicked the door so hard, the apartment reverberated as his naked back landed on her bed, his body cushioning her fall.
She spread her legs, her body straddling him, as the heat from her core transferred to his. A s
mall moan escaped her as she rubbed herself against him, the friction forcing a delicious spike of pleasure to shoot through her. She leaned forward, pressing her full breasts to his mouth, as he got into the rhythm going on down south. He lifted his hips, while at the same time, gripping and directing hers. The harsh grinding of his rigid cock against her was threatening to make her explode, and he hadn’t even penetrated her yet.
Dante latched onto her nipple, sucking it hard into his mouth while his strong hands slid back, embracing her full rear, massaging with his mouth and fingers simultaneously. The sensations inside her were growing exponentially with his skilled manoeuvring of her body.
“Oh God,” she breathed, “I…don’t…usually do this.” It was difficult to form the thought, never mind verbalize it, but she suddenly felt the need to explain. She just wanted to make sure he didn’t see her as some slut who trolled the Sapphire Strip, looking for demon meat.
Dante’s head leaned back, his lips still suctioned around her breast as his mysterious eyes pierced hers, the intensity in his gaze burning her.
He didn’t need to speak. She could sense that he knew. Whatever she was feeling in those moments was far more than a surge of heat and wetness, the racing of her pulse and the beads of sweat cumulating between them.
There was raw emotion there, something deep and fierce that she had never experienced.
His fingertips found their way between the cheeks of her ass, slipping along the cleft of her middle and Arya sighed, her crotch riding against the bulge of his engorged shaft.
She positioned her hips above him, wanting to feel the tip of his head inside her wet core, but then a shiver slid through her mind as she stared down at him, the premonition refusing to be blocked.