A Demon's Debt (The Desdemona Chronicles Book 2)

by Cece Rose

  There’s only one door in the hallway, right down the other end. I check my phone again for signal, still no luck. Maybe that door will lead outside. I know it’s unlikely, but I can feel something pulling me forward. Like that feeling you get when someone is watching you and you keep looking over your shoulder. You know something just isn’t right. But this feeling is different, it’s just urging me to keep moving, so I walk down the hallway. My heels click softly against the hard, concrete floor. The long, beam light that runs centrally down the ceiling flickers above me.

  As I reach the door, I can hear voices softly from the other side. I lay my hand against the door. I can feel my heart racing. I shake my head to try and clear the strange feelings from myself. Stop being stupid, just open the fucking door and see where it leads. I push the door open.

  The door leads into what appears to be an office, an office with three tall men standing around a desk inside. Shit. What was I thinking just barging in?

  “I’m sorry…I was…I was just…I’m sorry. I’m just looking for my friend Melissa, I thought this led out a back way or something,” I mumble out, feeling slightly mortified.

  I step back to try and leave, but before my foot even touches the ground, a hand grabs hold of my arm and pulls me into the office. I hear the door slam behind me. In shock, I stare silently at the three men around me for a moment. I’m surprised to see one of the men, the one with his hand on my arm, is Alex from earlier. Standing closely behind him is another man with jet-black hair that contrasts against his pale skin. Across the room, behind the desk, is the third man. His back is currently turned to me. What I can see of him though, is his dark-coloured hair, broad shoulders, and tall stature. I find myself mentally wishing he would just turn around….

  “What did you hear?” Alex’s voice draws me from my inspection of the man.

  “I’m sorry? What? I’m just looking for Melissa. I didn’t hear anything,” I answer.

  “Why don't I believe that? What was your name…Laura?”

  “Lena,” I answer, narrowing my eyes at him. “Why, were you saying something that you wouldn’t want people to hear?” I question.

  “I don’t reckon she heard anything, man,” the pale guy pipes in. I take another look at him, noticing the tattoos that cover up one arm and crawl up the same side of his neck. I wonder if he’s like that all over.

  “Yeah, but do we want to take that risk?”

  “Are you saying we should…?” the man trails off.

  “We might as well,” Alex mutters.

  “You might as well what?” I cut in, glaring at the both of them.

  “Are you sure it’s a good idea, they’re already doing one tonight. Too many failures get noticed, and we both know the odds,” the pale guy replies to Alex, neither acknowledging my question.

  I look nervously around the room, not knowing what was going on, but knowing it wasn’t something I wanted to stick around and find out about. I try and assess the situation. One of me, three of them. One of them stands directly between me and the door, and the other could easily grab me before I can move. Shit. I’d scream but I’m sure nobody will hear over the music pounding from the club.

  “I don’t see many other options, I’ll do it,” Alex mutters, moving closer to me. I back away and smack into the wall behind me. I freeze looking straight at Alex like a deer in headlights. A hand lays on Alex’s shoulder, pulling him back away from me. I look over his shoulder, expecting to see the pale man and, instead, find myself staring into amber eyes. That earlier pulling sensation returns, and I find myself wanting to reach forward towards the man with amber eyes. I catch myself just before I step forward. I flatten myself against the wall behind me, my eyes darting around trying to take him all in. Tanned skin, a strong jaw with a light stubble, broad shoulders, and his eyes again. I find myself drawn into the expressive, amber colour.

  “Leave,” the man says quietly, his low-toned voice sending a shiver right through me. I go to move, and he chuckles. “Not you, sweetheart,” he says softly. The corners of his lips turn up slightly in amusement, the expression enhancing his attractiveness.

  “Cy?” Alex questions

  “Leave,” he repeats. He pushes Alex in the direction of the door and steps closer to me. Alex and the pale man shoot confused looks at each other and then make their way out the door, casting wary glances behind them. He shuts the door behind them and then approaches me again slowly, each step feeling like it takes far too long. I can feel the rising tension.

  “Lena,” he says slowly as if testing the name out. Feeling unable to form words, I incline my head. “Is it short for anything?” he asks.

  “Selena,” I mumble.

  “Selena,” he echoes. “My name is Cyrus, and I’m wondering, of all the people in the world, what were the odds of you walking into my office uninvited?” He steps even closer towards me and I feel my heart racing even faster, hammering against my chest so hard I swear it makes my whole body shake.

  “Uh… um… I’m not sure,” I trip over my words. I lick my lips nervously and his eyes zone in on the movement. I shudder and try to move back but my back is already firmly against the wall. He steps even closer, so there’s only a hair’s breadth between us.

  I swallow nervously, feeling like a complete fool. I’m never one to be lost for words, or one to lack confidence, but staring into his amber eyes as I’m trapped against the wall by his larger frame, I’m feeling nothing like my usual self.

  He reaches out and trails his hand across my cheek lightly, I find myself unconsciously leaning into the touch. I notice and pull back, alarmed at my own behaviour. He frowns at my retreat, I feel a stab of regret at the sight of the unhappy expression marring his perfect face. I reach out and touch his face lightly with my hand, instantly his frown dissipates. He turns into the touch and presses a light kiss to the palm of my hand. My breath quickens, and I feel my body trembling. He curves an arm around my waist and presses himself up against me, leaning his face towards mine. As his face nears mine, I look down quickly. Why am I acting like this? What the hell is he doing to me?

  “I don’t understand,” I whisper softly, frustrated at my own lack of resistance. A finger rests under my chin and tilts my head up, so I’m again looking into his amber eyes.

  “You will soon,” he murmurs back. He leans down and presses his lips against mine firmly. His arm pulls me tighter against him. He runs his tongue lightly across my bottom lip, and then bites down softly, tugging on it as he grinds his body against mine. I gasp at the sensation, and he seizes the opportunity to slip his tongue in to mingle with my own. I moan into his mouth, completely lost of all my sense. His free hand snakes into my hair, pulling me even closer to him as if he resented all distance between us.

  He pulls back, his amber eyes meeting mine for a moment. Up close, I can see the flecks of gold in the honey-like amber. He rubs his thumb across my cheek again, staring at me almost in wonder.

  “I'm sorry about this part, but there's no other way about it,” he says softly, his voice sounding thick. I give him a confused look, but before I can verbalise my concern, he uses his grip on my hair to tilt my head to the side. He darts his head in faster than I can see or try to stop. I feel a sharp pain on the top of my right shoulder where it meets the bottom of my neck. I gasp in shock and try to pull away, but his grip is too tight. He holds me like that for a moment, with what I realise to be his teeth biting into my shoulder. He releases me and pulls back slightly, I notice the blood on his lips. I feel dizzy on my feet and stumble slightly, but he keeps me upright.

  He lifts one of my hands up, I feel a sharp sting across it and hiss at the pain. He shoots me what looks to be an apologetic glance. He brings his palm up against mine, holding them together tightly. I feel a burning sensation in my palm, and then the same burning feeling travels up my arm.

  “What...what the hell are you doing?” I manage to just get the words out, though they sound slurred.

  “It's alm
ost done. When you wake up it'll all make sense, I promise,” he says soothingly. I start to feel sleepy, he must see it as he lowers us both down to the ground. He brushes a stray strand of hair from my face and strokes it back. It feels so relaxing, I shut my eyes, barely noticing the burning sensation that is now all the way into my chest.

  I hear his voice murmuring softly now, but I can barely make out the words. I wonder for a moment if he is even speaking in English, as his soft murmurings begin to lose all comprehension in my mind. Softer and softer his rich voice gets, the words making no sense, but giving me a sense of comfort all the same.

  I manage to catch the words “Sweet dreams” whispered in my ear. I feel a feather-light kiss on my forehead, then I lose myself completely into the darkness of sleep.

  You can find Fractured Fate now on Amazon.

  Vengeance

  Please continue reading for a short excerpt of Vengeance…

  Is revenge really yours to take?

  I am dead. I died on the 31st of December, and ever since then, existence has been a nightmare.

  Pain, pale blue eyes, and stars are the only memories I have to help me find my killer.

  A vengeance spirit has given me my chance at revenge, but to get my vengeance, I must take others' revenge first.

  My name is Christina. I am dead, I am undying, and I am vengeance.

  This is a slow building reverse-harem series.

  Book contains possibly triggering content.

  Prologue

  “Do you still want to call an ambulance?” Kol asks, his voice is smooth and unaffected from the images we've just seen. I lose it. I smack my hand across the bastard's unconscious face, and then I spit in it. I claw at him, scratching and hitting. So much fucking, white-hot rage is escaping me that I know I should be afraid of how I’m acting, but Kol is right. This is the kind of man—the kind of monster—that doesn't deserve an ambulance call, he deserves to die.

  “Little vengeance, this may work easier if you use your dagger,” Kol suggests calmly. I drag my eyes away from the monster I have been punching, and I look at Kol, he's leaning back in his seat, looking as relaxed as a holiday maker enjoying the sun’s rays. He’s smiling, as if he is enjoying my show of rage. Suddenly, it feels like the daggers strapped to my wrists are burning my skin. I have to make him pay. She didn’t deserve what he did. He’s a monster.

  “Do you still collect his soul if I kill him?” I ask.

  “Yes, I will, and I can promise you he isn't going anywhere fun,” he replies calmly, knowing all the words my ears want to hear.

  “If you collect his soul either way, then why show me this? It doesn’t make sense. Why?” I ask him.

  “Because for you to be what you are meant to be, you need to drive that dagger into his chest,” he says simply.

  His words make no sense to me as I pull a blade from my left wrist sheath, slowly twirling it around in my hand. I feel scales tipping side to side in my head as I weigh the options, as I weigh up what is right and what is wrong. He deserves it, he deserves to die . . . then I get to keep my physical body, is that not worth it? He's going to die anyway . . . But, killing someone is wrong, is it really my place to act as judge, jury, and executioner?

  He stirs slightly, and I practically jump from my skin when Kol yawns loudly.

  “He's got minutes at most,” Kol says in a bored tone.

  I look into the face of the monster. He doesn't deserve to be thought of as a person, or have his name. He's just a monster. Is it really so wrong to kill monsters?

  Suddenly, I'm drawn into a memory, I'm 17, and I'm sitting next to my friend Brad in my philosophy and ethics class at sixth form. The words written in big, red marker pen across the white board for us to discuss, are as clear to me now as they were then.

  Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster.

  Nietzsche

  The image in my mind fades, and I am again just looking at the monster’s face. But, it leaves me with a question for myself.

  Would killing this monster make me a monster as well?

  I look down at the dagger in my hand, my entire arm trembling. And then, I catch my reflection in its gleam. All I can see are pale-blue eyes. My killer’s eyes. The eyes I am cursed to look into every time I catch my reflection.

  He’s a monster, just like this man is. They both deserve to suffer, to die. I step closer and place the tip of the dagger over the monster's chest.

  “If there is a God, I hope he or she can forgive me for this,” I whisper, and then I place my other hand on the hilt of the dagger, too. Slowly, I add pressure, the tip of the blade cuts into the top layers of his skin, blood blossoming and seeping out around the edges. Taking a deep breath that I don’t need to take, I close my eyes and push down.

  You can find Vengeance now on Amazon.