Halfway Wicked (Wildes on the Hunt #1)

by Dara Kent

  He covered my hand, squeezing roughly. “I won’t leave you. Not ever.”

  “You have the power to send him away. Use it,” Lilith’s voice snaked through my mind.

  Seizing on Jensen’s magic, I used it to open a portal, one he failed to notice because his full focus was on me. “Promise me you’ll keep Lily and my mom safe.”

  His eyes darkened with a mix of anger and determination. “I’m not leaving you. It’s not going to happen.”

  “Promise me, Jensen. Now. You have to keep Lily and my mom safe.”

  His lip curled up into a snarl. “I promise. But it still doesn’t mean I’m leaving you—”

  “I love you,” I murmured. “And I’m sorry.” Crushing my lips to his, I kissed him roughly, briefly, trying to communicate everything left unsaid between us. He clutched at me, desperate to hold on. But I couldn’t let him. This was something I needed to do without him.

  Breaking the kiss, I shoved him as hard as I could. He stumbled back, rage and horror flitting across his features as he fell through the portal, disappearing from view. With the key in my hand, and his tracking spell removed, I knew he wouldn’t be able to find me anytime soon.

  Gulping, I renewed my resolve, my heart thundering against my eardrums. Slowly, one agonizing step after another, I trudged closer to Lilith’s cage. Her screams were absent, something I’d only now realized.

  “My body burns, but my consciousness remains within you.”

  “Makes sense,” I muttered, even though I wasn’t sure anything made sense at all anymore. Or ever would again.

  Heat like I’d never experienced pressed along my skin, engulfing me. It was so hot it was cold, causing chills to rattle my body. “What do I do? How do I get you out?” I was still about ten to twenty feet away from her cage, and already it was nearly unbearable. My teeth chattered uncontrollably, cold sweat erupting from every pore.

  “Your blood and intent are all you need.”

  My blood, of course. Lucifer had imprisoned Lilith, and I carried his blood within my veins, more potent than anyone else in recent history. I was quite possibly her only way out.

  My skin reddened and blistered, my clothes plastered along my body, and still, I persisted.

  “You’re almost there.”

  Halting just outside the touch of fire, I swallowed, my throat like the Sahara, my lips dry and cracked. Unsheathing a blade from my boot, the metal hot, I drew it across my palm, a line of crimson welling up. It bubbled, lifting into the air as if it was water evaporating.

  “You have to get closer.”

  “If I get any closer, I’ll be in the fire.”

  “Yes.”

  “Fuck me.” Shuffling forward, I made a second cut next to the first, thrusting my hand into the flames before I could think better of it.

  Excruciating pain shot up my arm, but even as I opened my mouth to scream, the flames ebbed, receding away from me. My skin pinkened and healed, cool air swirling through my hair.

  A blast lifted me off my feet, slamming me into the ground, my vision wavering. My pulse fluttered against the ringing in my ears. Scraping up to my elbows, I peered at the cage. It was empty.

  “I didn’t lie to you.”

  Swinging my head to the right, I scrambled back, kicking up dust. I coughed, my eyes watering as I struggled to focus.

  Looming over me was Lilith, or at least I presumed so. She bore almost no resemblance to the creature I’d confronted in my mind. Her long, black hair spilled down her back in waves, intermingling with the midnight feathers on her wings—wings that moved up and down restlessly behind her. Her skin’s pale luster was luminous and utterly flawless like she was carved from moonstone. Her large, dark brown eyes met mine with mirth as she offered me her hand.

  Accepting, I allowed her to pull me to my feet. “You look … well, you don’t— I thought—”

  “I appeared to you as I could. A burnt husk of my former self. Now I am whole once more.” She inclined her head. “Thanks to you, niece.”

  Holy fuck. I swiped my hand down my face. This can’t be real.

  But it was.

  Would I come to regret my choices? Would I end up only aiding in the destruction of the world, or create a new better one? Personal worlds are formed through perspective, like how I considered being twice marked a curse, and Lily thought it to be a blessing. Technically, we lived in the same world, and yet we didn’t. I’d based my choice to help Lilith on my world views, but what if I ended up being wrong? My perceptions might have been tainted by bitterness and skewed by cynicism. I was flawed, more than I liked to admit most days, and my flaws equaled flaws in my world. That was a problem.

  Because to me, in the end, all that mattered would be what I thought—what I saw. Which meant I could think myself working toward the ultimate good, when really I was helping evil get a better foothold.

  My vision was of a better future, not just for those I loved, but for all of those who had their lives ripped away from them by Lucifer’s deals, and God’s lack of interest. The world—my world, as it currently existed, was a fucked-up place, and yeah, those responsible needed to pay for their actions, or lack thereof. It didn’t matter who they were. Not to me anyways.

  Everything that’s happened to me since that day on the side of the road has led me to this moment.

  There I stood, in Hell, next to Lilith. Her, the sister of Lucifer; me, apparently his daughter. I’d never felt more empowered, and yet more vulnerable at the same time. Once I thought my life was made of up choices, big and small, and then that illusion was ripped away in an instant, forcing me into a game I didn’t want to play. Now, that game had shifted, revealing something new—something I had a chance to win, if I played my cards right.

  “Ready to start a war?” Lilith asked.

  I still had so many questions, and the doubts that accompanied them. Could Lilith have me under her control in some manner? Did she brainwash me while she was inside my mind? Had I merely replaced one set of lies with another? So many things surrounding Lilith remained suspect, even certain timelines didn’t quite add up. Plus, my sudden and easy acceptance of her explanations and assurances pointed to a problem. And yet … my yearning—my nostalgia for a life I’d never gotten to live, one filled with freedom and choices, and no demons—surged within me, forcing everything else aside for the moment.

  But … War?

  War. I rolled the concept around in my head. For such a tiny word it packed a wallop of a meaning on a multitude of levels. Fear and anticipation intermingled at just the mention.

  War. Was I ready to start one with Heaven and Hell? Could I deal with the consequences of my decisions?

  I suppose only time will wield the true answers.

  Acknowledgments

  And here we go again, the acknowledgments. Aka the part of the book that most people never read … unless they might potentially be mentioned in them. Which is why I get completely flustered writing this part. I worry that I’m going to forget someone, for no other reason than I feel the pressure not to forget anyone. I really don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. So, if for whatever reason I did forget you—I’m sorry!!! Please scold me, and I will attempt to make it up to you in the future by putting an entire page dedicated to you or something. Trust me, there were no intentional snubs here. If I don’t like someone, or am mad at them, oh yeah, they know it without a doubt. I’m not what anyone would consider passive-aggressive. Heh.

  * * *

  Anywho … Got a bit distracted there. On to the actual acknowledgments part of the acknowledgments.

  * * *

  First and foremost, I’d like to thank my hubby, aka Super Hubby, for being the most supportive human being on the planet. Words can’t begin to express all that he’s done to help me in every part of my life, especially when it comes to encouraging me not to give up on my writing. This book, and none of my other books, would exist if not for him. He was the spark that encouraged me from day one, and the fir
e that helps me find my way in the dark. He makes my world better every single day just by being in it. Or let me put it this way: Even stuck in the house with him 24/7 during plague times, I don’t want to kill him. ‘Nuff said right there.

  * * *

  Next, I’d like to thank Melissa Ringsted, my illustrious editor. She is always the first person to get a gander at my books in all their raw glory. And when I have doubts about publishing, she encourages me to stay the course. Halfway Wicked, along with all of my recent books would have died a silent death if not for her, suffocated by my insecurities.

  * * *

  Then, of course, I’d like to thank Ren Reidy, who not only proofread Halfway Wicked but always helps me out with all the book-y advice about everything from font choice to formatting. She’s been there for me since my first release as D.T. Dyllin 26 books ago, and I’m pretty sure all of said books would have disappeared into the ether if not for her. Ren is my not-so-secret weapon.

  * * *

  Also, I’d like to thank my amazing cover designer Lindsay Tiry. Although calling her just my cover designer simply isn’t enough. She not only has done all of my covers, but she does interior book graphics and logos, and … she makes all of the pretty things for me. Aaaand she has to create them from my crazy ideas. I mean, seriously, it takes a special kind of person to be able to handle someone like me. I’ve been known to send her paper cut-outs of stock images, arranged just-so, with colored marker illustrations on them to show her exactly what “I’m thinking”. She deserves all kinds of awards for that alone. Or maybe sainthood?

  * * *

  And finally, I’d like to thank all of my readers. Without you, I wouldn’t be able to continue writing. All of the encouragement, support, and love keep me going. You are all extremely special to me. Although, I still don’t know how I managed to get lucky enough to have people want to read any of my stuff without a gun pointed at their heads.

  About the Author

  Dara Kent is a pseudonym for bestselling romance author D.T. Dyllin. Dara writes darker worlds, where good doesn’t always win, villains are cool, and magical mayhem rules.

  Dara was born and raised in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. (Black & Gold for life, baby!) She now lives in Raleigh, North Carolina with her husband, and spoiled mini-poodle.

  Also by Dara Kent

  The Eclipsed

  Nightmare Thief