“My sister Isabella. Like I said, she was barren. I knew if she did nothing else, she’d take good care of David. When I went to her after Grandma Rosa’s visit and told her about my fate—about Armando—she didn’t believe me. I think I mentioned she wasn’t a believer. It took a whole lot of convincing not only to get her to agree to raise David, because she didn’t believe I was going to die, but to get her to promise to bury that goddamn box with Armando’s filthy soul in it.”
“So she knew you’d killed Armando?”
Marcella would never forget bringing David to Isabella, her hair tangled and matted, her eyes wild with fear, clammy sweat her constant companion. “I told her everything. Up to that point, everyone believed that Armando had run off with someone. I heard them whisper about it while I pretended to be a wronged wife. Isabella hated Armando to begin with, but she never would have condoned his murder if it had been anyone other than me. I was younger than her by quite a few years. My mother worked long hours at my father’s tailoring business. Isabella was more like a second mother than she was my sister. She would have done anything to protect me, and I manipulated her love for me to keep her from going to the police. I was sick over it, but David had to be protected.”
Kellen’s expression darkened. “So your sister was the last person you know for sure had the box? What did she do with it?”
That panic was back again, burrowing into her gut. “I swear to you, I thought she’d buried it. She was the only person I could trust to do it. My parents would have had me exorcised before they’d ever believe I’d put someone’s soul in a locked box.”
“Then how the hell did Carlos’s grandfather get his hands on it?”
She’d begged her sister with sobs of agony constricting her throat to bury it the moment Marcella left her. “Isabella made no bones about the fact that she thought I was out of my mind. The only thing I can think that would have kept her from doing what I asked was that she just didn’t believe what I told her about Armando.”
“Why didn’t you bury it yourself?”
Massaging her temples, she bit the inside of her cheek before answering. “I was under a lot of pressure to take care of things, is my only defense. The week before my death, I don’t think I slept more than three or four hours total. Killing Armando was . . .” How did you describe the hideousness of murder—no matter the reasons behind it? “I’m no cold-blooded killer. His murder took thought—summoning his soul involved a lot of brain cell usage and energy. It was the most horrific thing I’ve ever done. Though I swear, as I stand here, I’d do it again. Top that off with my fears for David, knowing I’d never see him again . . .” Her voice grew weak, clogging with more tears. “I just wasn’t thinking straight, or I would have buried it myself and none of this would be happening.” She clenched a fist of frustration in her lap.
Kellen took her fingers between his, massaging them, easing the tension. “You couldn’t have possibly known the box would show up, Marcella. Don’t go where you’re going.”
She might as well go—Christ knew, she’d gone to plenty of places in the last few days that she didn’t want to go to. “But this is my fault, Kellen. My mistakes have led Armando to Carlos. We have to find out what he plans to do and stop him.” At all costs.
“And we will. I still don’t know how, though Christ knows I’m tired of saying that, but we will. I’ll find a way—we’ll find a way. For now things are quiet. I’ve got another call in to Catalina with this new information. I’m hoping she’ll have some answers—something.”
It was getting harder and harder to hate Demonic Barbie. She settled back against the couch in the crook of his arm and sighed—cleansed—unburdened—washed exhaustingly clean.
“I just thought of something.”
She was sitting back up with a shot. “That could help Carlos?”
Pulling her back into his embrace, he shook his head. “No. But I was wondering about selling your soul.”
“You in the market?”
“Hah!” Kellen barked his answer. “Hell no. What I’m wondering is, because you essentially broke a commandment, wouldn’t you have gone to Hell anyway? How could you barter your soul for David’s if your soul was already marked? Or are the Ten Commandments something we’ve interpreted to suit our needs over hundreds of years?”
She gave him a grin that was smug. “That took a little fancy footwork on my part. I’m happy to say, some demons are dumber than others. I got one of the lamest asses evah. He had no clue I’d committed a sin.”
Kellen grinned deliciously and winked. “Nice work.”
“That stunt was hardly work.”
“But wouldn’t Satan want revenge because you pulled a fast one?”
“Satan just loves souls. He doesn’t much care how he gathers them. Some are definitely more important than others, and I guess if he’d ever found out how I toyed with a minion, he might have sought revenge. But the beauty in this is a minion isn’t likely to report his mistake for fear of punishment. It became our little secret. Satan probably would have cheered my deception, but for sure, his lackey would have paid with time in the pit.”
Drawing her into his lap, Kellen positioned her to face him. “You’re something else, Marcella Acosta.”
“Let this be a lesson to you—do not bring my wrath down on you. It promises a shower of shit,” she teased.
He grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling, deep grooves forming around his mouth. “I’ve held an umbrella up under several of those.”
“We’ve come a long way, baby.”
“Wanna go longer?” His hand cupped her ass suggestively, and he wiggled his eyebrows.
“Oh, Mr. Markham. Only you would want to boff a chick that had just confessed to not only murder but deception of the highest-ranked officer of evil. You’re a real edgy guy.”
“Who says I’m not an assload of fun?”
Cuddling closer to him, she let her breasts rub against his shirt, shivering at the immediate response her nipples displayed, and gave him a look of astonishment. “I can’t imagine anyone ever labeling you like that. How unfair.”
Chuckling, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom. “I know. Penance is due.”
“Ohhh, penance. Sounds serious.”
“I take my penance very seriously,” he said with a leer, throwing her onto the bed and dropping down on top of her.
“So what kind of penance are we talking here?”
His look was of mock seriousness. “Naked penance. I mean, it was a serious offense.”
Letting her head fall back, she gave a throaty laugh, carefree and unrestrained. “I suppose this will involve my nekidity.”
He toyed with the torn front of her dress, raining kisses along her jaw that made her melt with anticipation. “Well, you are the one who sinned.”
“Then you’ll have to do the honors,” she said with a smile, lifting up her arms for him to remove her dress, unashamed of her desire for him.
“That reminds me. Hold that thought.” He jumped off the bed and went into the small walk-in closet that had once been filled with Delaney’s things and came back out with a pink bag she recognized from one of her favorite boutiques. “I figured it was about time. I’m not sure if it’ll work, but let’s give it a shot.” Kellen opened the mouth of the bag for her to see inside.
Fuck-all if tears didn’t fill the corners of her eyes. Again. “When did you have the time to get this?”
He dumped the bag on the bed, holding up the contents. “I didn’t. D did. When I told her about your dress, she was ass-holes and elbows to your favorite boutique. Wanna see if you can try it on?”
Fighting more tears, she rose off the bed, hovering in midair in front of him. He’d bought her a dress. A new dress from Sinclair’s. “You shouldn’t have. Sinclair’s is pricey.”
His eyes were warm when he said, “It’s a good thing I sold some fine Texas bat shit this month then, huh?” He tugged her old, torn dress over
her head and tossed it on the floor, scanning her length with eyes that approved before he slipped the new dress onto her.
Marcella held her breath until she felt the cool cloth float about her skin. Her hands shook when she touched the front of the smooth, red fabric, tugging at the empire waist to make sure it fell around her knees properly. The capped sleeves brushed against her hair; the round neckline accentuated her breasts. It was as though it had been made for her.
Delaney might have shopped for it, but Kellen had bought it. Such a simple gesture seemed so magnanimous.
And woo to the hoo—here came more tears.
Kellen let out a wolfish whistle. “I’d say Delaney knows her stuff. You look great.”
Putting her hands to her face, she covered her eyes to hide her latest sissy-fest. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I—no one’s ever . . .”
He peeled her fingers from her face. “Well, someone just did. And there’s more. Shoes. Delaney says they’re cute, but you won’t need those, or this,” he said, dipping his fingers into the neckline of her dress with a grin that was full of his wicked intent and made her heart hammer inside her chest.
Her arms went around his neck and she arched her body into his. “About that penance . . .” she murmured.
Kellen’s mouth found hers with a chuckle. “Yeah. You have some work to do.” With a whoosh, he pulled the new dress back off her and threw it at the end of the bed. Circling her waist, he hauled her against him hard, cupping her breast to thumb her nipple to a stiff peak.
Moaning into his mouth, she ran her hands over his chest, his arms, bulging with sinewy muscles. Kicking off his shoes, Kellen took his own clothes off, parting with her lips for only a moment before he was naked.
Their bodies pressed together, skin to skin. His was flush with heat, hers cool on the outside, but tending a raging fire on the inside. Mouths connected in a molten hot kiss, blending, melting into one another. Their tongues meshed, dueled, tangled in silken strokes.
Settling them on the bed, Kellen’s dark head bent to her breast, clamping his hot mouth around it, pulling her nipple with decadent swirls. Her thigh lifted automatically, wrapping around his waist, pinning him to her.
Arching upward, she pushed her breast against the ecstasy his tongue brought, panting her pleasure. Kellen’s lean hands, big, strong, swept along her ribs, brushing back up along the undersides of her breasts, moving across her lower abdomen.
Raging white-hot flames licked at her, leaving an aching tug and pull between her thighs. His hair brushed her skin as he trailed moist kisses against her flesh, leaving not an inch untouched. He nipped, licked, taunted until she realized his hair swept against the skin of her inner thighs.
Gripping his head between her fingers, Marcella held her breath when his teeth grazed against the inside of her leg. His moan of pleasure as he drew closer to her core made her writhe with an aching need. He used his tongue to part her moist flesh, rasping it apart, laving it with long, slow strokes. Her legs fell apart, her neck arched at his deliciously hot breath against her clit.
Slipping his hands beneath her ass, he pulled her flush to his wet mouth, teasing the swollen bud until she thrashed under him. Electricity shot pinpoints of pleasure to her belly, fanning out, making her nipples harden. Marcella gripped his head, latching onto his hair and bucking against him until she could no longer fight the tidal wave of sticky hot orgasm.
Rising up on her elbows, her head fell back as she screamed her release, letting it take over, letting the pulsing ache build then ebb until she was nothing but boneless and limp. Each muscle in her body tensed tightly like a bow, then flexed as climax after climax ravaged her.
Kellen nipped at her skin, finding his way back up to her mouth where he consumed her lips. She tasted herself on his tongue, and it was heady, sinful. Marcella’s hands roamed the hard planes of his hips, the crisp hair on his thighs, the thick muscles of his back. When she’d gathered her breath, she slid beneath him, leaving him straddling her chest.
His thick cock, ramrod straight, hot and pulsing, brushed against her lips. He groaned, low, husky, the muscles of his thighs clenching when she braced her hands on them.
Inch by painstaking inch, Marcella enveloped his shaft between her lips, running her tongue along the heated skin. He bucked when she cupped his ass with her hands, drawing him fully into the hot cavern of her mouth.
She let him adjust before she moved, reveling in the jagged breaths he took that filled the air of the bedroom, rife with their lovemaking. Kellen’s hips began to move in circles, slow, measured, each movement making him hiss a moan.
Marcella dragged a hand up along his hip, down between his legs, and enveloped his testicles, massaging them with a gentle motion. Moving her other hand to his cock, she pumped him, laved until he was slick with her tongue’s moisture. Her passes grew heated, faster, as her mouth worked along his thickness.
Kellen’s hands dug into her hair, tangling in the curls as he pushed her mouth around his cock, driving in and out until he pulled back with a sharp tug. Leaning back on his haunches, he let his head hang low, fighting for air.
Then he lifted it, his eyes dark, molten hot with desire for her. So intense, Marcella caught her breath. There was no mistaking his need when he caught her up in his arms with such force it made her nipples pucker as they scraped against his chest.
The room shifted then righted itself when he rolled with her, placing her on top of him, settling the tip of his cock at her entrance.
Their eyes met—their hands entwined.
The world stopped for a mere moment.
And everything changed.
Love, tender, sweet, fast, furious, welled inside her.
Love.
The realization stole her breath to think that the night before had only been her falling. Now, she was in. All in.
In this very moment, Marcella knew no matter when she was taken from this plane, from him, she would know what it was to want to spend an eternity with Kellen. This wasn’t like the immature love she’d thought she’d felt for Armando. It was so deep, she felt it burrow into a space in her heart she’d thought was forever locked.
The place where David was.
Would always be.
The place that Kellen now would be, too. A place she hoped to visit when she was gone. A place that would bring her joy when time had healed the raw hurt of leaving him.
As he lay before her, the hard planes of his body highlighted in the moonlight, the slim taper of his waist with her hands upon it, she gulped with her revelation.
Lifting her hips, she decided all she wanted was to be filled by him, consumed by his hardness, taken so she could be only in this moment. Kellen didn’t question her aggressive move when she thrust herself down onto him. Instead, he encouraged her, lifting his hips to meet the crash of hers, moaning his pleasure at the slickness of her entry.
She braced herself, using her hands on his chest to rock against him with a fierce rhythm. Grinding into him, she felt his crisp pubic hair rub against the swollen bud of her clit. It sent wave after wave of rippling pleasure between her legs.
Kellen’s hands circled her waist, pressing her frenzied thrusts down onto his cock with force, stealing her breath. He drove upward, matching the frantic pulse of her desperate need to be one with him.
Her hands fell behind her to grip his thighs, lifting her breasts upward so that Kellen cupped them in his hands, thumbing the hard peaks of her nipples, then moved to her clit, massaging it until she thought she’d explode from the pleasure. An agonizing spiral of white-hot heat threaded along her veins, pushing, driving, until she bit the inside of her lip to keep from crying out. Tears stung her eyes when she thrust downward for the final time, clenching his thighs so hard her nails dug into his flesh.
Kellen’s final plunge upward made the cords in his neck stand out, his grip on her waist ironclad. He grunted his release long and low, his lips drawing back over his teeth when he hissed his orgasm.
Marcella fell to his wide chest, her cheek pressed to his damp skin, her limbs boneless from exertion.
Cupping the back of her head, Kellen stroked her hair, brushing it from her cheeks.
She couldn’t raise her head to look at him for fear he’d see what she’d discovered during their lovemaking. It would only make things harder if he knew she’d gone and done something so out of character.
It would only make leaving him more painful.
“So,” he mumbled, his voice a sexy rumble beneath her cheek, “I think we’re in love.”
Marcella almost giggled at how reasonable that sounded. Then she froze, lifting her eyes to meet his. Tugging her by her upper arms, he dragged her along his body until they were nose to nose.
“Go ahead. Freak out. I’ll hold you down.”
To say it out loud would only make it more real.
“You’re afraid if you say it out loud it’ll make it a reality.”
Thank you, Amazing Kreskin. Her tongue refused to work.
“It’s okay, honey,” he soothed. “There’s been a whole lotta nice with you lately and it’s foreign. I get it. You need time to adjust. I’ll wait.” He looked at the clock on the bedside table then back at her. “Was that enough time? Or do you need more?”
Before she had the chance to speak, before she could actually come up with an answer, she was sucked from his arms and he was gone.
Instead, she was back in the park.
And good Christ, she was wearing her torn dress.
Whoever’d dragged her here had better have a credit card.
With a really big limit.
Atonement and some new shoes were due.
fourteen
“Marcella?”
She cocked her head, tilting it into the harsh winter wind as a tall figure came into view. Hackles rose on the back of her neck when the bulk of his form moved closer. A very round, wide man, in a dark suit and clunky shoes, tromped toward her. Hair as black as midnight with only a hint of gray at the temples shone under the heavy, buttery moon. He cracked his knuckles as he approached, making her jump.
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