Sleeping Beauty and the Demon

by Marina Myles

  While he removed all of her clothes and peeled away her panties, she felt her blood rushing through her veins. But now that she was naked, she was embarrassed enough to close her eyes.

  “No need to be shy,” he murmured. “You’re radiant.”

  Flicking her eyes open, she managed a smile. He returned it, then pushed her legs apart gently. “Stay open for me,” he instructed. Shifting, he moved lower so that he could see her dampened folds. “Christ, Rose. You’re pink and wet and perfect.”

  Sliding a finger into her moisture, he caught a drop on his fingertip, then tasted it. Inflamed, Rose thought she’d go mad. Warm and moist, his shaft brushed her thigh. Considering that he was ready— and that he’d completely readied her—this was going to be a magical moment.

  Drago guided his penis into her folds. He was large and she was tight and at first, the discomfort made her wince. But because Rose was so ripe, a blinding wave of lust banished all the pain. He thrust deeper. Her legs trembled—and as his weight flattened her breasts, sounds of their mutual desire mingled in the air.

  Her folds undulated around his erection. She let out a gasp. He grasped her buttocks and thrust harder.

  While she clutched Drago’s bare back, Rose pinched her eyes shut and clung to him. The way their bodies molded together relayed feelings without speaking a word.

  Drago gave her pumps as deep as his kisses. The theater box rang with grunts of delight. “Damn it.” He tore his lips from hers. “I can’t hold out any longer!”

  She wanted to say, “I’m reaching that place again, too,” but the words caught in her throat.

  He plunged furiously now, and when he arched his back, his torso rippled enticingly. While his chest glistened with sweat, he cried out loudly and spilled his semen deep inside her.

  When he slumped forward, she blinked against the stillness of the moment. He gathered her to him and stroked her tousled hair. “That was the best moment of my entire life.”

  “It was mine, too,” she said.

  Joy raced through Rose and she couldn’t help but smile. Drago made it sound as if he’d been alive for hundreds of years, but he was only thirty.

  They lay still for a long time, their harried breathing pronounced in the silence. Once Rose’s breathing calmed, she inhaled remnants of cigars and heavy perfume that lingered inside the box. From this perch, patrons of the theater watched with fascination as Drago performed his complex illusions. He was creating quite a name for himself and she felt privileged to be here with him.

  On that note, she wondered if he’d brought other women to this spot. It really didn’t matter. She just wanted him to know that what they’d experienced was special to her.

  Drago repositioned himself so that he could face her on the bench. She rested her cheek on the crook of his bent arm and whispered, “I want to tell you something.”

  He leaned over and kissed the top of her head.

  “I wouldn’t be here, alone, with just any man,” she said.

  “I pass no judgment. Because—” he lifted her chin so that she could look into his eyes “—you’re my rosebud.”

  “I would go anywhere with you. Do anything for you.”

  “And you’re my draga,” he murmured into her hair. “My once-ina-lifetime-love.”

  A hint of panic stabbed at her. She only hoped his magic could keep that lifetime from ending on her twenty-first birthday.

  CHAPTER 16

  Rose tiptoed inside the Marconi house at two-thirty in the morning.

  In a blissful state, she crept into the dim foyer and noticed the parlor light glowing. When she peered into the parlor, she spotted Olivia asleep in an armchair, a magazine open across her chest.

  When Rose turned to ascend the staircase, she stepped on a creaky floorboard. Olivia snapped awake and Rose froze.

  Olivia marched toward her and thundered, “For Pete’s sake! Where have you been!”

  Before Rose could utter a word, Olivia adjusted the rollers in her hair, then pointed a finger at her. “No,” she said. “Let me guess. You were with that illusionist.”

  Rose’s lips set in a straight line. Olivia knew her too well.

  “I didn’t tell Mama.” Olivia paused. “Don’t I deserve a ‘thank you’?”

  “Thank you,” Rose said quietly.

  “Your sneaking around needs to stop,” the dark-haired girl whispered sharply. “Mama was half out of her mind tonight.”

  “I thought you said you didn’t tell her.”

  “When she came into your bedroom to give you something, she discovered you weren’t there.”

  “I didn’t mean for her to worry,” Rose said in a soft voice.

  Olivia’s face flushed with frustration. She stayed mad for a minute longer, but eventually dropped her stern expression. “I persuaded her not to call the police before I ushered her back to bed.”

  “You’re a pal,” Rose remarked. “I appreciate you putting all my fires out. And thanks for waiting up for me.”

  Olivia nodded.

  “Well. Good night.”

  Olivia placed her hands on her hips. “Not so fast. I want details!” She pulled Rose into the parlor.

  The girls huddled together, laughing and talking while the few details Rose shared heated her anew. She’d never forget this evening with Drago—magical hours during which he’d stolen her virtue and captured her heart.

  Unfortunately, the girls’ chatter woke Anthony. He stumbled into the room wearing a scowl and yanking the sash of his bathrobe into a knot. “Damn it, you two! Thanks for interrupting a good dream.”

  “Dream? Were you fantasizing about Angela Bosco?” Olivia teased.

  “The pretty girl who just moved in next door?” Rose raised an eyebrow.

  “Maybe I was,” Anthony replied. “And for your information, she’s no girl. She’s a lady.”

  Silence filled the air, until Olivia burst out in laughter. For once, Anthony joined in—until Elena Marconi entered the parlor.

  Her silence snuffed out everyone’s laughter.

  Elena locked eyes with Rose. Her nostrils flared. “Olivia and Anthony. Back to your rooms.”

  “Yes, Mama,” they replied in unison before they scurried away. Fidgeting with her hands, Rose stood. “I’m sorry we woke you. And I’m sorry you were worried about me.”

  “I was worried. And for good reason.” Elena paused and indicated that Rose should sit down. “Don’t lie, Rose. You snuck out to meet that magician.”

  Deciding that her adoptive mother needed to know about her feelings, Rose said, “I can’t tell you much about Drago except that I love him.”

  Fright turned Elena Marconi’s face pale. She made the sign of the cross. “Rose, I have to tell you how concerned I am. Anthony says no one knows anything about this Drago. And Olivia informed me that he has compelled you somehow.”

  “He did hypnotize me,” Rose said calmly, “but I’m not sure I’m acting under a spell anymore. That’s how strongly I feel for him.”

  Elena looked unhappy. “I’m sure that’s what magicians do.”

  Rose’s cheeks heated.

  “If you think you are in love with him, then there’s something you ought to know.”

  Rose lifted an eyebrow.

  “Stay here,” Elena instructed.

  Rose watched Elena pad out of the room. Amid the silence, she noted the time: nearly three thirty in the morning. At least I don’t have to work tomorrow.

  Her adoptive mother reappeared, accompanied by her adoptive father. Rose noticed that Elena cradled some sort of scrapbook or photo album in her arms.

  As the couple neared, she noticed that the silver streaks in Elena’s hair had multiplied and that the crow’s feet around Lorenzo’s eyes had deepened. Of course, she would have noticed these things earlier if she spent more time at home. “Is everything all right?” she asked.

  Lorenzo came to stand by her. He affectionately rested a hand on her shoulder. “It’s time you learned where you
really came from, cara.”

  Elena sat beside Rose but didn’t open the album. “Lorenzo and your real father have been best friends since childhood. That’s why your birth parents entrusted us with your safety. It’s something we don’t take lightly.”

  Lorenzo sat in a nearby chair while Elena drew in a breath. “Everyone in this family loves you, Rose. We consider you part of our famiglia.”

  “E io apprezzo tutto quello che hai fatto per me,” Rose replied. At least she’d learned a little Italian over the years.

  “I know you appreciate everything we’ve done for you,” Elena said gently. “And we’d do it over again.”

  “You’re the family I never had.” Rose fought back tears. “The good news is I get to see my real parents in a few months.”

  To Rose’s surprise, Elena didn’t smile. “That is a wonderful thing,” she said, “but it’s our job to keep you safe until then.”

  “You’re worried about my curse coming true. I understand that.”

  “Yes.” Lorenzo paused, then nodded to Elena. “But there’s something else you need to know.”

  As Elena slid the photo album across Rose’s knees and opened it, Rose’s heart pounded violently. Looking at the images was like looking in a mirror. Rose was the spitting image of her mother. Her father was also as fair-haired and tall as they.

  “Your mother and father were—gifted,” Elena began.

  “Gifted?” Rose echoed.

  “Don’t confuse her, Elena. First, she needs to know who her parents actually are,” Lorenzo insisted.

  “Sì.” Elena pointed to the first photo. “Your parents are Malcolm and Florence Hayes, the famous psychics and spiritualists.”

  Rose had heard of them! Her interest in magic had prompted her to read a lot of newspaper articles about them, but she’d never seen any pictures. She’d learned that twenty years ago, Malcolm and Florence Hayes had been mind-bending celebrities working in the realm of the paranormal. With their incredible talent, they took New York City by storm and had become internationally famous by holding private fortune-telling sessions and séances for prominent people: presidents, diplomats, outlandish movie stars, and wealthy businessmen alike.

  “How could Malcolm and Florence Hayes be my father and mother?” Rose asked as her gut wrenched. Surprise overtook her and now her thoughts tumbled together, ensnaring her in a maelstrom of emotions.

  “Carlisle was your mother’s maiden name,” Elena clarified. “Your parents had an incomparable ability to see the future. They amassed a fortune doing it, and you’ll live like a princess once you’re reunited with them.”

  “That’s what they want for you,” Lorenzo added. “But it will have to wait because what they saw terrified them enough to concoct this plan.”

  Rose’s back prickled.

  “The idea was for us to take you under our wing,” Elena said. “To hide you away from your Aunt Morvina after she was banned from the christening and had you cursed.”

  “Why didn’t my parents want me to know who they were?” Rose asked.

  “They didn’t want you to come looking for them. It would alert Morvina.”

  Rose’s shoulders slumped forward. “If what my parents saw was so terrible, what made them think they could alter what would happen?”

  Elena placed a hand over hers. “They hoped desperately that they could.”

  “Did my parents tell you details of the tarot card reader Morvina went to when I was a baby?”

  Elena drew her close. “Rose. Your mother was the tarot card reader.”

  Rose’s blood ran cold. “What?”

  Elena nodded forlornly.

  “No!” Rose broke away. “I don’t understand!”

  “Rose—”

  “I love both of you dearly but you lied to me. I thought Morvina went to a tarot card reader following my christening because this reader was also a witch. The witch cast the spell over me—a spell that will send me to my death on my twenty-first birthday.”

  Elena sucked in a breath. “Let me explain. As sisters, Morvina and your mother used to be on good terms. One day, Morvina overheard your mother talking to your father about a vision your mother had at the turn of a tarot card.”

  “What vision?” Rose asked.

  Elena’s lips twitched. “She saw you falling to your death on your twenty-first birthday.”

  “Falling to my death?” Rose gave a shudder. My vertigo.

  “Morvina offered to take you and hide you away in order to protect you. She insisted that she could prevent your fall from happening, but your mother hesitated. You see, Morvina suffers from crippling arthritis—and I suppose your mother questioned her ability to take care of you. Ugly words ensued, including Morvina’s claim that she was more proficient at spiritualism and fortune-telling than your mother. ‘I, too, have the gift,’ she said. ‘But I’ve never been given the chance to prove myself!’ Afraid of what Morvina might do, your parents banned her from your christening. Morvina, who dabbled in black magic, cast her own spell over you—to doubly ensure that you would meet your demise.”

  “Morvina is the real witch I’ve always heard about?” Rose asked.

  “Yes,” Lorenzo answered.

  “Why didn’t you tell me this from the start?”

  “We thought it best not to scare you. Having a witch as an aunt and a tarot card reader for a mother could frighten a child,” Elena said.

  “I’ve always been suspicious of Morvina.” Lorenzo shook his head. “When she was twenty-five years old, she appeared out of nowhere, claiming to be your mother’s lost half-sister. Because your mother was put in an orphanage by parents she didn’t know, she believed her.”

  A new cloud of anxiety engulfed Rose.

  “If you want to change your destiny,” he continued grimly, “you need to hear what else your mother saw in her vision.”

  Rose turned to Elena who spoke quickly. “She saw a horrible creature, a demon. She predicted this demon will arrive in the form a magician or an enchanter and bring death and destruction. Your death.”

  “You think this dark figure is Drago?” Rose’s voice was shrill as she gripped the photo album.

  “Yes,” her adoptive parents said in unison.

  “It can’t be! He talks about nothing but saving me.”

  “Perhaps that’s what Dragomir Starkov says.” Elena wrung her hands. “But how do you know he’s not an evil product of Morvina—sent to seduce and persuade you to follow his lead?”

  “I’ll never believe it!”

  “This is what demons do!” Elena cried. “They are fallen angels who lure humans into wicked acts—so they’ll sin and become fallen, too.”

  “My dear Rose,” Lorenzo stood and his wife did the same. “You think you’re in love. But enchanters can charm you into thinking just that. They make you believe things and then it’s too late.”

  “No!”

  “This is your life we’re talking about,” Elena said firmly.

  “I’ll be safe with Drago.”

  Tears sprang to Elena’s eyes. “We want to believe you, but we cannot take that chance. That’s why we forbid you to see Dragomir Starkov again.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Shock, sadness, and anger assaulted Rose like a firing squad.

  Clutching the photo album, she raced up the stairs with it. When she encountered Olivia at the top of the landing, she practically plowed her down.

  Olivia followed Rose to the bedroom the girls shared and shut the door. “I shouldn’t have been listening, but I was. My God, Rose. I’m so sorry.”

  “How could your parents have lied to me?” she asked.

  “I suppose they did it for your own good.”

  “I don’t know if Drago is the evil demon they spoke of. All I know is that I can’t bear to be without him.”

  “Hush now.” Olivia sat on the bed and smoothed Rose’s hair.

  “When this is all over—I mean, when you come out of this alive, you can see him aga
in.”

  Rose brushed her tears away with firm strokes. “You don’t understand, Olivia. I have to be with him. It’s like the need to eat, drink, and sleep. It’s a necessity.”

  “That’s how young people feel when they’re in love,” said Olivia gently.

  “You, of all people, know this is different. You saw me the night Drago called me onstage. I’ve been drawn to him ever since.”

  “Yes, but you heard what Papa said. Enchanters do that . . . in order to make you pliable, for their own purpose.”

  “It’s no use talking about it.” Rose went back to crying. “I love you like a sister. But I want to be alone right now.”

  “All right,” Olivia said as she stood up. “But please don’t go against my parents’ wishes. They have your best interests in mind and you owe them a debt of gratitude.”

  Sitting in his apartment, Drago lamented over the fact that he was no psychic. He hadn’t been given the ability to see into the future when he’d gained his astounding powers. However, thanks to the coin, he could see the present. And right now, he was staring into the image of Rose’s world falling apart around her.

  Stuffing the coin into his pocket, he pounded his other hand on the kitchen table. The bottle of wine he’d opened helped a little, but his blood still hurled through his veins like a windstorm.

  Holy Hell. Rose can’t see me anymore.

  To add fuel to the fire, he sensed that Morvina was closer than ever. Although he’d built his own powers by drawing out only parts of people’s souls every year upon the anniversary of his turning, he’d never killed a human or invaded another person’s body.

  It meant that he probably wasn’t as powerful as the other remaining Immortal.

  For the first time in a long while, he gave a shudder. The violence the Immortal had displayed when it murdered the last Coney Island victim meant that he or she was completely ruthless.

  Soon he’d have to battle that creature—and Morvina.

  Drago snatched up the wine glass he’d refilled and stormed to his bedroom. Settling on top of the covers, he closed his eyes. Before he attempted to will Rose to him, he took a sip of the wine then set the glass aside. Next, he retrieved the lei coin from his trouser pocket.