Her Black Soul (The Dark Amulet Series Book 3)

by A. J. Norris

  HER BLACK SOUL

  Book Three of

  The Dark Amulet Series

  A.J. Norris

  HER BLACK SOUL

  Copyright © 2017 by A.J. Norris.

  All rights reserved.

  First Print Edition: April 2017

  Limitless Publishing, LLC

  Kailua, HI 96734

  www.limitlesspublishing.com

  Formatting: Limitless Publishing

  ISBN-13: 978-1-64034-036-7

  ISBN-10: 1-64034-036-X

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  For Angela Campbell (and she knows why)

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVETEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  GET (5) FREE READS EVERY FRIDAY!

  CHAPTER ONE

  Virgil

  Every time Virgil had sex he pictured his true love, her powerful Warrior’s body and golden wings. So why was he lying here next to another female? If he could get it together long enough, he’d ask himself. His mate had been lost to Netherworld nearly two centuries ago. Although he missed his mate, he never cried anymore, accepting that she was never coming home. Admitting the finality of it hit him squarely in the chest every damn day, emotionally draining him and leaving not much behind. He lay naked, staring up at the bedroom ceiling, focusing on the water stain in the far corner. The room spun as the effects of Elliott’s cheap bourbon and mindless casual sex wore off. He mouthed his fallen mate’s name and closed his eyes.

  “Did you say something?” Dahlia rolled over and draped an arm over his waist.

  “Not me.” Virgil tensed, not knowing if she wanted more from him. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could pretend to have any interest in her other than how she made his body feel for brief periods of time. She was getting too close to him. Things had changed or maybe he had.

  “Dahlia…”

  “Hmm? You want more?” Her half-mast eyes were partially hidden by a lock of hair cascading down her face. For a moment, he saw a waterfall of red, not dark hair.

  “No,” he said. “Elliott and Amalya will be home soon.” Actually, he wasn’t sure when to expect them. He wanted the golden winged angel out of the apartment.

  “So?” she grinned. “That’s never bothered you before.”

  “I didn’t say it did, yet things are different now. For you.” He removed her arm and sat up.

  “What things?”

  “You’ve always known what this was between us. No commitment. I’ve always been clear.”

  “And you think I’ve grown too attached to you.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “Haven’t you?”

  “We have fun, don’t we?”

  “That’s not the point. It’s best we stop this now, before there are any hurt feelings.” He sat on the edge of the bed and ran his fingers through his hair.

  “Well, too late. There are already hurt feelings.”

  Virgil thought about apologizing. He brushed off the urge, even though he knew how she was perceiving him now. Like an asshole. “You knew this would end sometime. Don’t make this harder, please.”

  “So that’s it? We’re done here? Don’t you have any feelings?”

  No.

  “I have some things that need tending. So, if you could…”

  Yeah, and they involve a large bottle of liquor.

  Dahlia hadn’t done anything wrong. He’d been the one that went to her for comfort. She’d supported him when he was weak, talked him out of falling to rescue his female.

  Her eyes widened. “You’re kicking me out?”

  “It’s not as if I’ve been the only male in your life. You’ll get over this, I promise.”

  “You condescending jerk. Like you’re over her?”

  Dahlia was right. He’d never gotten over losing his mate. However, the two situations weren’t the same. They couldn’t be compared. He was left empty, a shell of a male. Desperately filling the hollowness in his heart with sex and booze, except the space never reached full capacity. She’d likely wallow and perhaps throw a fit for a few days as per her reputation for the dramatic, one of the reasons he’d held off on ending the affair. Dahlia would eventually move on. He envied her.

  When he remained silent, she got off the bed with a huff and grabbed her thin dress off the floor. She shimmied it up her body. The angel glared at him. “You’re pathetic. After all these years, you still think she’s coming back.”

  Virgil jumped off the bed. “What did you say to me?” The heat of his light warmed within him. “You know what’s pathetic? You thinking you can change me.”

  “You’re not worth changing. You know what? I’m sure Abaddon has a special place for her. As one of his—”

  “Get out!”

  “Gladly.”

  The ceiling on the top floor apartment faded away until only the starry night shone inside the room. With attitude, Dahlia kissed the air over her shoulder and winked with contempt. She flapped her wings and shot into the air, disappearing as the roof and then ceiling solidified again as if she’d never been there. Virgil laid back on the mattress. Reprieve from his constant chest ache sat on a glass shelf behind a bar a few blocks north. He traced the outline of a tattoo in the center of his chest without looking. He’d memorized the one of a kind pattern. Most didn’t notice the mark now since the lines had lost most of their color. More and more fading occurred for every year his female was gone.

  ***

  Sitting at the bar at Eternit
y, the Redeemer swigged three shots of Jack in a row. Whiskey dribbled through his Van Dyke beard. After another three, Dahlia would disappear from his mind.

  “Whoa. I think you may want to slow it down a bit,” Elliott said, sidling up to him.

  Virgil wiped his face on his sleeve. “Buzz off.”

  “Now I know you’re fucked up. The vernacular, Virge?”

  Ignoring the comment, Vir caught sight of a woman who sat down at the end of the bar. Her cleavage spilled out of the top of her silky little black dress. The ginger-haired human nodded in his direction and raised her Corona bottle, a lime wedge sticking out of the neck. Light glinted off her glassy eyes. He licked his lips and winked at her.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Elliott told him.

  “It’s a great idea. And don’t tell me what to do. I don’t tell you what to do.”

  Elliott sighed. “Whatever. I wasn’t.”

  “You certainly were.” Virgil rapped on the counter and held up three fingers to the bartender. Moments later three more shots of liquor were lined up in front of him. One by one Virgil pounded them and slammed the empty glasses, rims down, onto the bar. He dragged his hand across his mouth.

  “I think that’s enough for tonight. Let’s go home.”

  “See?” Virgil belched. “You are telling me what to do.”

  Elliott groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay. Fine. I’m worried about you. Amalya’s worried about—”

  “Ha! You’re worried about me?” Virgil glared at Elliott.

  “Yeah, that’s what I said.”

  “You arrogant, selfish prick. You know damn well why I drink and fuck too much.”

  Elliott threw his hands up. “Fine. Go ahead and screw that human chick’s brains out, but it’s not going to make you feel any better.” He walked away.

  “You don’t think I know that?” Virgil called over his shoulder. “Only one thing will make me feel better.” But that one thing wasn’t a viable option.

  When he returned his attention to the hot human woman, she dangled a cherry by its stem over her open mouth, gazing at him suggestively. His eyebrows hit the ceiling, his cock straining behind his fly. She crooked a finger at him.

  He edged off the stool and ambled toward her. “You look like the kind of hu—woman that wants to have a good time.”

  “Maybe,” she said, tilting her head slightly. The woman smirked and seemed to notice his wings, even though most humans couldn’t see or feel an angel’s feathers unless a plume had been plucked out.

  “How do I turn your maybe into a yes?” He leaned against the bar because his ability to stay upright wavered.

  “Mmm. Well, you could start by buying me drink.”

  Virgil motioned for the bartender to bring her another beer although her other bottle was still full.

  “What is your name?” he asked. He enunciated his words, attempting to appear less drunk.

  “What’s yours?”

  “I asked you first.”

  She hesitated for a second. “Suzie.”

  He jerked his chin. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’m Virgil.”

  Suzie offered him her hand to shake. He grasped it, turned the palm face-up and ran his thumb from the wrist to the end of her middle finger and back again. She sucked in a breath. He smiled because he knew he’d changed her maybe into a yes with one simple stroke.

  “How did you do that?”

  “Do what?” Virgil shrugged.

  “Get me to find a dark corner in the alley with you.”

  “Right this way.” He held out his hand to her. “Our back-alley bedroom awaits us.” He allowed her to lead the way through the packed club. The black lighting near the dance floor turned her hair purple. Her dress hugged her curves. “Oh Deus,” he muttered. Why did the bad ones always have to be so sexy? Elliott was right. This wasn’t just a bad idea; it was a disaster and he was careening out of control, heading straight toward it.

  Virgil wasted no time pushing her back up against the cinderblock wall in the alley beside the club. He slipped them further into the shadows away from the light from a single bulb above the side exit. Suzie wrapped her legs around his hips and snaked her hands around the nape of his neck. Her fingers teased his hair then she cranked his head down, attacking his lips with a ferocious desperation. He responded by pressing his tongue into her mouth. She moaned and tilted her head to the side. His lips traveled to her neck, kissing and sucking on the cords of her throat.

  “I’m not…wearing any…panties,” she said breathlessly.

  “Good. That means I don’t have to rip them off.” He yanked her dress out of the way, pushing his hard length against her sex. “You want this…”

  She gasped from the friction caused by his movements. “Oh, yes.”

  He reached between them to undo his pants. “No…not here. I want you to take me home first.” She kissed his neck until he purred.

  “Well, then let me take you home.”

  “Are you sure you want to?”

  He pressed his hips forward. “Does this feel like I’m sure?”

  “Yes, angel.”

  “Oh, shiiiiit!” Virgil shoved himself away from her in an instant. Charcoal fumes clogged his lungs. His backside and wings met with Demon Ruler Abaddon’s beast. Caught completely unassuming and lustful, Virgil had walked right into a trap.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Evita

  Time was a human construct. In Netherworld, the concept had little to no meaning at all. Evita couldn’t remember when she’d been banished to the Void chamber. She only knew how, although didn’t completely understand why.

  It was amazing how used to the smell Evita had become. The odor itself emanated from the vast hole in the ground, a pit where the most wretched Damned human souls were kept.

  Evita stuck to the shadows against a wall, not only because her chains allowed her so much movement, she simply chose to remain hidden. In the near darkness, she thought about what she could have done differently the day Abaddon, the Supreme Demon Ruler, had her put here so long ago.

  Her chest ached every day with an unsettling emptiness. Something was missing, yet she didn’t have any idea what. Evita scanned the sea of females lounging about inside Abaddon’s harem room upon large red and black velvet pillows. All of them were naked, including herself. While she didn’t mind the nudity, Evita crossed her arms over her breasts. She couldn’t fathom how or why she’d ended up as one of the Supreme Demon Ruler of Netherworld’s sex toys. She suspected there was more to the group of ninety-nine than most, if not all of them, realized. Their actual purpose was unknown. The Ruler was forever on a quest to round out his collection to an even one hundred. The reason why was too horrifying to acknowledge. Pleasure for the Ruler was merely a benefit, a token of appreciation for his service, from an unknown force. Someone or something pulled Abaddon’s strings.

  The ornately carved wooden door opened into the cavernous space and Abaddon stood at the threshold, hands on his hips. Shrieking and clacking noises from several goat-legged demons bled into the room from the corridor. He wore only black leather pants hanging low, appearing like an angel…with black, ridged, and curved horns. She put a hand to her head and felt her own horns. Like always, whenever she did this, her back prickled. The sensation mimicked a spiked roller going over her skin, poking her, but only for a few moments.

  Evita cringed as Abaddon stepped forward and tucked her knees into her chest. She sat closest to the door on a black velvet pillow. He glanced in her direction when she whimpered, drilling her with his sapphire eyes that saw everything. Suzie, the only female whose name she knew, sidled up to him. Evita shivered at the sight of the female’s naked wings. She was grateful for horns jutting out of her head above the hairline, instead of dealing with a mess of veiny clawed protrusions. And she was equally glad she didn’t have a tail.

  Suzie’s red hair was more like the terra cotta colored walls, while Evita’s hair matched th
e blood red pillows. Abaddon nuzzled the neck of the winged female and she giggled. Her laughter rose to the high ceiling. Evita sneered at the sound. There were lots of reasons to hate her, a skin-crawling cackle only one of them.

  “Are you here for a reason or just a visit?” Suzie asked.

  “I always have a reason,” Abaddon drawled. His smirk promised it was what she wanted.

  Suzie jumped up and down, clapping her hands. “Did you hear that, girls?”

  Oh, wonderful, Evita thought. She wasn’t going near the arrogant male.

  Several females formed a circle around the Ruler. Evita curled in on herself, blending into the wall as best she could. Suzie peered at her from behind the swarm, about as innocent as a wolf that just ate a chicken and had feathers still stuck to its lips.

  “Oh, no you don’t, get over here, Evita!” The voice cut through the chatter and sounds of the females worshipping Abaddon’s body. The ‘Oohs’, ‘Ah’s’, and gasps gave Evita a headache and further turned the knife already imbedded in her sorrowful soul. “E-vie,” Suzie taunted, “it’s your turn. You know what the master wants.”

  Evita’s stomach churned. She knew exactly, and wanted to throw up. Maybe she would and he’d excuse her. She stayed on the floor, shivering with her arms across her chest.

  “Aw, what’s the matter?”

  “Uh uh. I think you’ve got it handled,” Evita said.

  “Leave her be,” Abaddon told Suzie.

  “But it’s her turn.”

  This was untrue. No “turns” had ever been forced upon any of the females. Plenty of the others didn’t participate in the activities. However, Suzie harped on her. Soon they all joined in the jeering.

  “Silence! No one will be commanded by anyone but me.”

  Evita tried stifling her tears, she really did. He hated crybabies and told her this more than once. He’d warned her crying wouldn’t be tolerated and the next time she would be punished. A sob bubbled out of her anyway.