by Liz Meldon
The thought always made her shiver. Ella had tried to make connections with some of the vampires who had been forced down here with her, several of whom she had met in the chaos of the arrivals terminal that first day. But given how the upper class spaced their homes, with miles and miles and miles of land around each mansion, the distance posed a challenge in maintaining any real friendships.
But she had time—a lot of it—to connect with other vampires, maybe even coordinate some legal reforms for better vampire treatment across the realm. Malachi had already promised he would help her, but sometimes she struggled with that part of her life. Speaking with fellow banished vampires, reminiscing, made her homesick. She missed Earth. She missed Farrow’s Hollow—deeply. So much so that she tried not to think about it, about the fact that Severus and Moira could make little trips topside every other week for Severus to stock up on human life essence. As much as it pained her, it had been easier to pretend Hell was all that existed for this first year, that there was nothing else out there.
The wound would heal in time. Her heart would mend.
Ella had eternity ahead of her thanks to Serafino, the one tiny ray of light the bastard had bestowed on her before his death. Four hundred years in Hell wasn’t an eternity. She would go home one day. For now, this could be her home. And she would do what she could to make it comfortable, knowing that for all his smirking, his teasing, his furniture breaking, Malachi would do the same.
“Now I need to do my makeup again,” she said with a dramatic sigh, like the two brilliant climaxes had been such a burden. Ella wiggled her eyebrows in the mirror as she wiped the smudged lipstick from her cheek, Malachi’s black gaze scorching across her figure.
“I think this is an exceptional look for you,” he mused, toying with a rogue curl, his mouth wicked again. “Thoroughly fucked and satisfied… Is ravished a page in your makeup look book yet?”
She hummed and swatted away his hand. “No, but I could use your input on creating the template…”
“Yes, quite. I’ll get right on that.” He gave her ass a quick smack, hard enough so she could really feel it through her enormous skirt. “We’ll need some options to choose from, naturally.”
Ella rolled her eyes before catching his fiery gaze in the mirror as he backed away. “Naturally.”
If they had nowhere important to be, Malachi would have continued to paw at her until they eventually retreated to his bedroom for the day. Given they had a wedding to get to and a long carriage ride ahead, he let her be, settling on the cushy sofa beneath the window and smoothing a hand along his dress shirt, pausing when he discovered a few black dots of blood on the collar. Ella busied herself with her makeup routine, forced to start from scratch.
Although she loved nearly all the facets of Malachi’s personality, sometimes she enjoyed the quiet moments like this the most. Just the two of them, content in each other’s company. It was peaceful. Safe. Earnest—real.
But then again, she also loved his madness. She loved exploring the wilds of Hell by his side: scaling jagged mountains and investigating underground caves, racing skeletal horses across the dusty flat plains, diving naked into the Sea of Lost Souls.
At first his motives had been transparent: Malachi had taken her on adventures to distract her, to make her forget all that she had lost in a single day. Now, she craved the adrenaline rush, the excitement of exploring something so different, so raw and untouched—something she would never see again after she eventually returned to Earth. Hell had a lot to offer, the landscape vast and varied, and she wanted to see all of it over the next four hundred years.
Moira and Severus were always content with each other’s company, locked in their room or picnicking in the garden or experimenting in the kitchen. Ella needed variety. She needed spice and thrills and distraction, and Malachi catered to that. He gave her what she needed and so much more. Happily.
Just as she was adding the finishing touches to her look, her previous one painstakingly replicated until it was almost perfect, the door flew open.
“What the fuck are we wearing?” Moira demanded, kicking her way into the room, the black lace nightmare just as excessive on her much taller frame. Malachi clapped a hand over his mouth, barely containing his snort, and her bestie hurled the lipstick she must have found in the hallway at him. This time it bounced off his shoulder, adding a touch of scowl to the chaos demon’s delight.
“Girl, don’t get me started,” Ella said with a huff, rising from her little stool and gesturing toward it with a snap of her fingers. “Come here. Let me do your hair.”
Moira shuffled over, the tulle and chiffon whooshing with every step, and she paused, frowning at her vanity. “What… happened to your mirror?”
“Malachi.” Ella shook her head, feigning exasperation. “Malachi happened to my mirror.”
Moira wrinkled her nose. “Gross.”
“So gross.”
“You fucking loved it,” Malachi piped up from across the room, rolling the tin of lipstick between his hands. Both girls flipped him the bird as Moira settled on the vanity’s stool, and Ella speared her fingers through the mass of coarse white hair for her to work with. While Malachi’s appearance in Hell had been a case of insta-lust, adjusting to the changes in Moira had taken more time. Her best friend was practically translucent down here, her blue veins on display, and her hair had adopted a straw-like quality that she despised.
Oh, and no more pupils. Apparently angels didn’t have the standard black pupil. Not that demons did either, but the lone grey dot in the middle of Moira’s eyes had startled Ella the first time she saw it. Now it was no big deal. Now, their physical features had become the new normal.
As had Moira’s wings. They spanned some five feet in either direction these days but remained invisible courtesy of Zachariah’s locket. Moira wore it everywhere; no need to draw all of Hell’s gaze toward some of the most potent magic in the universe. Angel feathers were a rare and hot commodity down here, and the household didn’t need any extra bullshit to contend with during Ella’s adjustment period. Moira could handle herself against demons—probably—but why tempt fate?
“So, I’m thinking…” Ella tipped her head to the side, finger-combing Moira’s stringy, wild hair. “French twist?”
“Literally anything to get my hair away from my face.” She tugged at the black lace collar, which licked up her neck and unfurled under her angular chin, same as it did with Ella. “There’s too much going on around here already.”
“I feel that in my soul.”
“Right?”
“Neither of you have souls—” Malachi threw himself down on the couch, cackling as he dodged the barrage of makeup products hurled his way.
A few minutes into her attempt to wrangle Moira’s stubborn locks into a delicate updo, Severus jogged in, dressed in his own burnt-umber suit, handsome enough to make Moira’s cheeks flush when he winked at her. The incubus came armed with several bottles of wine, three empty glasses, and a chalice topped up with black demon blood for Ella.
Over the next two hours, they sipped their respective drinks and chatted away while Moira and Ella worked on each other’s hair. Ella eventually achieved the french twist she had envisioned, despite that stiff white mane fighting her from the start, and Moira wrangled Ella’s massive brunette curls into a huge topknot, a few tendrils of spiraling hair coiling down the back.
Once, the conversation drifted to Farrow’s Hollow, but more so between Severus and Malachi than the entire group. While it was painful to even hear the name, she understood why it still popped up: Malachi had signed over legal ownership of the city to Alaric shortly after she had been banished. He’d told her he had no intention of returning without her, which would make it difficult for him to give her beloved hometown the time and attention it deserved.
Alaric had been the perfect man for the job, especially with Cordelia at his side and his father’s backing; Farrow’s Hollow couldn’t have asked for a better
secret supernatural overlord.
Sometime later, the other three tipsy on imported fae wine and Ella pleasantly full on demon blood, the family carriage rolled up in front of the estate. The group drifted down the massive marble stairs together, Severus and Moira leading the way to the beautiful gardens outside, arm in arm, murmuring to each other as their shoes crunched over the path.
Ella, meanwhile, had her arms full with this fucking skirt, putting Malachi to work by having him carry the lace train. She squinted as she crossed from the wraparound stone porch and into the midday sun, relishing its roasting heat as she never had before.
One of the best things about Hell was that its sunlight wouldn’t fry her to a crisp. She had adopted a relatively normal schedule again, nocturnal no longer. Hell’s heat was a different story, positively sweltering for the better part of the day, a downright affront to her vampiric senses, but she made the best of it.
A hazy red sheen coated the sky today, same as yesterday, same as tomorrow. The lace had been constricting inside; hit with the noonday broil, it felt like a prison, but at least she could walk outside like everyone else.
Suffer in the heat like everyone else.
“You know, perhaps in a year’s time, you can repay my dear cousin in kind,” Malachi mused, raising her dress just enough to allow a breeze to tickle her ankles. When she glanced at him, eyebrows creeping up her forehead, he shrugged like the insinuation was no big deal—like he hadn’t just casually floated marriage. “Put her in her own ridiculous bridesmaid’s dress. I believe she’d deserve it.”
“Huh, all right, then.” Her cheeks tingled with warmth, and even though she couldn’t blush, she suspected Malachi knew she would if she could. The chaos demon adjusted the fabric in his grasp, as if completely oblivious to the huge bomb he had just dropped. Ella smirked. Up ahead, the front wall of the estate shimmered briefly before disappearing, opening to reveal the awaiting black carriage.
“Just a thought,” he insisted, his tone casual as sin. She nodded, unable to contain her smile.
“Only if you’re lucky, Malachi Saevitia,” Ella told him. She then paused and stood up on her tiptoes, a wordless command for him to bend down so she could kiss his cheek. Heat bloomed beneath her lips when she brushed them across his skin, skittering down her body and pooling between her thighs. “If you’re very, very lucky.”
“Oh, dearest…” Malachi yanked her closer by the excess tulle, grinning wolfishly when she stumbled into his chest. “I’m already very, very lucky.” He stole a quick kiss, fleeting and soft, as if careful not to ruin her hard work for a second time. “With you, I’m the luckiest demon in Hell.”
She snorted, wishing he could see the way her blush would have deepened, how her skin would have flushed bright red with affection. Hopefully he saw it in her eyes, in the way they shone beneath a hazy, distant sun. Ella gripped the lapels of his jacket, nipping at his chin. “And don’t you ever forget it.”
Malachi cupped the back of her head, stroking her with his thumb, his expression shifting to something more serious, more earnest.
“Never,” he whispered. Ella swallowed thickly, her gaze dipping to his lips before darting back to his eyes.
“Never,” she agreed.
Never, they declared.
Never, they promised.
Never.
THE END
Thank You!
I wanted to take a moment to thank you. If you’re reading this, then you’ve been with me from the first page of Predator. You’ve gone with me and my book babies to Hell and back again, and I wanted to thank you—for your time, your dedication, and your support.
The Hunt as a whole has really meant a lot to me. Although I love all my books, this serial was the one that gave my passion a jumpstart. When I started with Moira and Severus, suddenly I was daydreaming about plot points and characters again. I was up to my eyeballs in inspiration board photos, loving every second of it. All five of these books, from Predator to The Uprising, have a very special place in my heart.
And as a reader, so do you.
Thank you so much for everything. Thank you for taking this journey with me. Thank you for sharing in my passion. Thank you for your encouragement and your excitement.
As always, don’t forget to let me know what you thought about your read! Did you fall just a little bit more in love with our favourite chaos demon? Would you want to see more of Farrow’s Hollow, of the characters in it? If so, leave me a review on Amazon or Goodreads so I know!
Until next time, stay awesome.
xoxox
Liz
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About the Author
Liz is a Canadian author who grew up in the Middle East. She has a degree in Bioarchaeology from Western University, and when she isn't writing about her own snarky characters, she is reading about other people’s snarky characters, babying her herb garden, loitering on social media, or taking care of her many animals.
Liz dabbles in both paranormal and contemporary erotic romance. Her paranormals are usually dark and angsty, and her contemporaries are stress-free smutfests, but you'll find both full of feels. Most of all, she loves writing realistic characters in fantastical settings.
More from Liz Meldon:
Paranormal Romance
The Hunt – a Demon Romance
Predator (#1)
Prey (#2)
Stalker (#3)
Killer (#4)
The Hunt: Book Bundle #1
The Hunt: Book Bundle #2
The Hunt: The Complete Edition
The Uprising: A Companion Novel
Dark Days – a Vampire/Wolf Shifter Romance
Semester One
Semester Two
Lovers and Liars: Immortal Wars – a fantasy and paranormal romance series about the old world gods going to war
Court of the Phantom Queen (2017) – Book #1 (fantasy romance, novella)
Apollo’s Priestess (2017) – Book #2 (shifter paranormal romance, novella)
To the North (TBD) – Book #3 (fantasy romance, novella)
Contemporary Erotic Romance
All In Trilogy – Sugar Daddies, Billionaires, and Menages – oh my!
Finn (#1)
Cole (#2)
Skye (#3)
All In Trilogy: Book Bundle + Bonus Content
Unbowed – standalone erotic romances featuring kink escorts the alpha men who love them
Belle: Part 1
Belle: Part 2
Penny: Part 1 (2019)
Penny: Part 2 (2019)
Erotic Short Shorts – an Erotic Short Story Series
Happy Hour (2016)
Holiday Hell (2017)