“We can’t do this here. My apartment isn’t that far.”
In a flash, Bailey was on her feet. Since it wasn’t her doing, it took Bailey a moment to realize Lucien had not only lifted her from the ground, he still held her upright. She tried standing on her own. Her knees refused to hold her weight.
“Not gonna make it,” Lucien growled, pulling her toward the darkened alley.
A tiny voice inside Bailey’s mind said she was behaving like a whore, but apparently, her voice of reason was a raging tramp because it also sounded extremely pleased with her decisions. Perhaps tomorrow, the shame would set in. For now, it had been so long since desire had paid her a visit. She embraced it with both arms. Lucien was sexy as sin. He wanted her. Most likely, they’d never see each other again. No one needed to know. Pics or it didn’t happen, right?
The moment they were hidden from view, Bailey snagged the button on Lucien’s jeans and tore them open. Diving inside, she skipped all niceties, going straight for the goods and palming his erection. Her clit pulsed with need as he moved against her hand, mimicking sex. The brick from the side of the building scraped at Bailey’s back as Lucien crowded her space, pushing her shirt higher. Not once in her life had Bailey allowed anyone to handle her the way Lucien did. She not only let it happen, Bailey reveled in the animalistic encounter. When Lucien kneaded her bare ass, lifting her off her feet, Bailey marveled over the loss of the bottom half of her clothing. She didn’t recall him removing it. A small sliver of good sense returned.
“Condom,” Bailey cried out against his mouth.
“Got you covered, sweets,” Lucien said as he reclaimed her tongue.
Seriously? Bailey reached between them, checking for herself. Sure enough, he’d suited up. Her mind was a mess with Lucien touching her. There could’ve been a crowd of thousands watching them. She couldn’t focus on anything long enough to notice or care. All that mattered was having Lucien inside her. This time, when her feet left the ground, Bailey willingly wrapped her legs around his hips. Like a master, Lucien surged upward, impaling her.
Bailey’s back bit into the brick of the building as Lucien stretched her wide. He swallowed her cries. As if connected in mind as well as body, Lucien shoved his arm behind her shoulders, taking the wall’s punishment and protecting her skin. The move melted her heart. He ravaged her body. Bailey hadn’t felt so full in years. His cock pulled at her walls and bottomed her out. Lucien hit at the perfect angle, rubbing at her clit with every stroke. All she could do was cling to his shoulders and stare into his eyes.
Their connection was easily one of the most intense moments of her life. Usually, sex was something she did in the dark and with her eyes closed. Even while masturbating, she needed to concentrate. Lucien demanded her focus. She couldn’t look away. His features tightened. Her muscles followed. Pressure built inside Bailey, making her half insane. His lips parted. The image seared into her brain. Electricity surged through Bailey’s body, rocking her to the core. Her orgasm caused her greedy pussy to tug and pull at Lucien’s dick, attempting to keep him in place—almost as if her pleasure wouldn’t be complete without his. When he came, Bailey stopped breathing. The bliss written in Lucien’s every line rendered her useless. Time stopped.
He thinks I don’t get it. That I haven’t accepted there isn’t any hope for me any longer. Maybe he’s right.
– Bailey’s Journal, A.D.
Chapter 2
Now…
The underworld is exactly like reality, except for not at all. It looks the same. People mill the streets all hours of the day, going about their lives. It’s as if they know no other way to survive than to pretend they’re still among the breathing—as if they aren’t completely at the whims of the entities in charge. If nothing else, the powers that be have a sense of humor, even if it’s a cruel one.
Bailey’s apartment was located on the fringes of the French Quarter. A prime location. That is, when it was there. Yep. Sometimes it moved. On those days, Bailey hung out in the swamp, enjoying the knowledge that she couldn’t die twice. Thank God. Otherwise, the alligators, snakes, and who knows what else would’ve scared her shitless. Now, it was simply noise to fill the space when days and weeks passed in a blink of an eye. On the bright side, sanity was no longer an issue. Not that it had been much of one before her death. Lucien had stolen that a long time ago.
“You’re thinking about me again.”
The low rumble of Lucien’s voice rolled over her skin. In spite of the overwhelming desire to drink in the sight of him, Bailey turned her face away when he appeared. She couldn’t deny his claim. He was in her head. Even his scent coated her taste buds—man and spice. Her eyes fell closed as she swallowed past the lump of longing forming in her throat. His palm slid across her nape, moving her hair aside. Flames licked at her skin. Her nipples hardened.
“All bad things,” she said, only half lying.
A deep chuckle filled the space between them. It should’ve pissed her off. His fingers tightened, squeezing and leaving her no other choice than to obey his silent command. She turned her head. Her nose stung at the first sight of his eerie gray eyes. Lucien smirked.
“Tell me a few. Perhaps I can accommodate you.” Bailey’s mind went blank as she watched the demand fall from his perfect lips. They were full and firm. When his mouth twitched, she realized she was still staring at them. The memory of their flavor filled her mind to the point where she swore she could already taste them. Love and hate were two sides of the same coin. Sometimes, Bailey pictured herself holding that piece of silver in her palm. If she closed her fingers around it, both sides would touch her skin. That was what it was like to hold Lucien. She loved this man who she hated.
Prying her gaze away from his mouth, she tried holding his stare. He needed to shave. The scruff would burn her skin. It always did. She wanted it. Self-loathing clogged her throat. His nostrils flared, fascinating her. Her fingers clenched as she fought not to reach for him. It would be so easy. A strand of black hair slipped from the knot he’d tied at his neck. Lucien blew it away from his face. Pain bloomed in Bailey’s chest, giving her the strength to roll over out of his hold.
“You’ve already done bad things to me. Now I just want to be left in peace.” There wasn’t a soul anywhere who understood what those words cost her. Lucien came and went as he pleased, damaging Bailey in death in ways he’d spared her in life. That was saying a lot. To keep from focusing on him, she stared at the blank expanse of wall beside her. His foot brushed hers beneath the covers. He’d always been such a bed hog. It made it hard to ignore his presence. When Lucien palmed her hip, Bailey held her breath, wondering what he’d do next. His lips touched the back of her neck. Chill bumps rose on her skin. Why did her body have to betray her? The necklace Lucien wore shifted, hitting her between the shoulder blades as his mouth moved to her shoulder. She cringed away from the sensation of it brushing her skin. She swore it singed her. It had belonged to Bailey in life. Another reminder of all she’d lost. All he’d stolen from her. He hadn’t stopped wearing it since the moment she’d handed it over. Only a dumbass would think it mattered to anyone other than her.
*
There are billions of people in the world. None of them hold any importance. Their lives are short. Insignificant. In the underworld, the number of souls bordered on infinite. Each one was a waste of space. Lucien would go as far as to say they did nothing more than breathe up the good air, except they weren’t breathing any longer. Pity it didn’t stop the wailing. As with all things, there was one exception—Bailey.
Eternity was long. It clouded things—morals, most especially. There were other details Lucien saw with a clarity, Bailey—as a human—could never understand. Life was fleeting, death was forever, and she belonged to him. As death’s collector, this was his home. This was the way of things. As a psychopomp, Lucien had one duty—to escort the dead to the underworld. He’d never been a child nor did he have parents. All the experiences humans endured were beyond hi
s comprehension. Perhaps that was why he didn’t understand Bailey’s anger. All he knew, when it came to her, was that it had taken one glance into her light green eyes for Bailey to capture his soul. He wanted to fix things, but she wouldn’t allow it.
Her hatred sat on his windpipe all hours of the day. The sting of her constant rejection was worse than accidentally brushing the fires of Hell. But the flavor of her skin on his lips—it kept him coming back for more. His tongue shot out, stroking the small of her back. She was an obsession. He was completely dependent upon her for air. A sound came from the back of her throat as if she had bitten back a moan. A roar of triumph rang through his mind. He did it again.
“Lucien.”
The breathless sound of his name falling from her lips caused his eyes to drop closed in pleasure. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. “Tell me you want me,” he said against her skin, begging for the words to make him whole.
“I want you to leave.”
It was like getting stabbed in the gut. Lucien pressed his forehead to her back. His hold tightened. Sometimes, he wished she would hit him, throw things, or try chopping off his dick. Anything was better than this indifference laced with pain. He’d never known weakness before her. Since meeting Bailey, he’d known nothing else. Lucien had done things, making him a stranger in his own eyes. Knowing it didn’t stop him. Even though he couldn’t quit her, and Lucien knew he’d be back, there was only so much of her hatred he could tolerate at one time. With one final light kiss to her spine, Lucien inhaled her scent and dissipated, returning to his job. Escorting the dead to their rightful place was comfort in the familiar. For the millionth time, Lucien lectured himself. The night he met Bailey, he should’ve let her die as scheduled. At least then, maybe he would’ve had a small chance in Hell she wouldn’t hate him for eternity.
*
Rarely does devastation come with a great deal of fanfare. Hitting the lowest of lows is frighteningly silent. Most people don’t realize it’s happened until they’re blinking at their surroundings and trying to decide how they ended up on the floor.
Unfortunately, a majority of the time, rock bottom ends up having a sneaky rock-bottom basement that swallows people the moment they decide things can’t get worse. For Bailey, the basement would be a step up. Sometimes, she thought she’d do anything to escape the bleakness of her mind. Throwing on some clothes, Bailey went in search of something—anything—to wipe away the black cloud coating everything inside her. How could she stay in a bed Lucien had just vacated? Every time he left, her mattress transformed into a yawning pit of despair, holding her hostage. Today, she simply didn’t possess the strength.
Working her way toward the river, Bailey found a spot covered in the brightest green grass she’d ever seen. Something about it called to her, making her need to sit. The instant the ground welcomed her, Bailey turned her face toward the sun. With closed eyes, she soaked up the moment. For the first time since arriving in the underworld, she didn’t question if the orb currently heating her face was real or imagined. If this place was an illusion or an alternate universe. In the end, it didn’t matter. She was stuck here, so why not snag any enjoyment she could?
“What are you doing?”
Eyes flying open, Bailey jumped as the man appeared beside her. His eyes were black. Not dark, like a human’s eyes, but completely devoid of color with no discernable whites whatsoever. Her heart slammed against her chest the moment of his arrival. Now, instead of slowing, it sped. Alarm bells were clanging in her head, warning her to run. She couldn’t move. Lucien had tried warning her this place was filled with creatures riding around in human suits. No one really interacted with her other than Lucien, making it impossible for her to know if she’d ever crossed paths with any strange beings before now.
“I’m hiding,” she said, hoping her voice wouldn’t betray her. Luckily, it held steady. He sat down beside her. Bailey eyed his profile as he stared at the water, scared to as much as blink. Whatever he was, this man was powerful. She could feel it vibrating off his skin, filling the space between them. The air crackled in his presence. He glanced over, catching her staring. His eyes crinkled in the corners, even though his lips barely moved. Her throat burned. It was such a sweet smile. Innocent. She couldn’t die twice, she reminded herself for the thousandth time. Dead trumped everything.
He held out his hand for her to shake. “I’m Sol.” Everything inside Bailey screamed for her not to touch him. She did. His fingers were warm as they engulfed hers. Instead of shaking, he brought her hand to his mouth. His lips were on fire as they touched her skin. Electricity raced through her, starting where his lips met the back of her hand before traveling to her chest and stealing her breath. “Do you not wish for me to know your name?”
“Bailey,” she replied, even though she didn’t understand how her tongue had shaped a single word. It might have been sheer terror holding her in place. Bailey feared it was something else entirely. Even death couldn’t cure stupidity. Power had always been her biggest turn on.
“Why are you here, Bailey?”
Since he still hadn’t released her hand, Bailey’s brain couldn’t function. “The view is breathtaking.” At her answer, a full-blown smile exploded across his face. Her nipples hardened. Well. Fuck. If eyes were the windows to the soul, his was black, and her body obviously liked that sort of thing.
“It is, isn’t it?” Funny. She didn’t think they were talking about the scenery any longer. “But that’s not what I meant,” he added, saving her from having to dredge up a response. He dropped her hand and returned to watching the water carry dying leaves down the river. “I meant, why are you here, in this place? People like you don’t come here unless there’s a good reason.”
“I’m dead,” Bailey said, making a bid for top dumbass comment. In her defense, his presence was making her head fuzzy. It was as if his influence somehow interfered with the natural order, throwing off the pattern of her brain waves. He was lightning while watching satellite. She couldn’t get a good reception.
“No one ever really dies, Bailey.” Every time he said her name, his presence weighed heavier on her chest. “But everyone relocates,” he added with a smile. Bailey couldn’t stop staring at his profile. In part, she was too scared. If she looked away, he might rip her to shreds. Mostly, she was fascinated. His blond hair, muscular jaw, and blinding smile belonged on the cover of a fitness magazine. None of those things mattered to Bailey. Power like his couldn’t be ignored. She imagined she’d feel the same staring at a tornado racing toward her. Even though she was in awe, she knew there was nowhere to run. There was no escaping him. It was too late.
“My mom used to bring me here, to this part of New Orleans,” she explained. “When I was a kid, we came here every time she left my dad. It was the only place I felt safe.” Bailey had no clue why she’d confessed as much, but there it was. Sol didn’t respond right away. Instead, he switched his attention to the sky. For a moment, Bailey’s mind cleared and she could focus on him with perfect clarity. She looked away. His intensity was blinding.
“It’s better at night,” he said, snapping his fingers. The world plunged into darkness a half-second before the stars fired to life, littering the sky. Bailey gasped. Each ball of fire in the heavens shone brighter than she’d ever seen before. The river became a shimmering mirror, reflecting the sky until only the water’s ripple distinguished the two.
“How did you do that?”
“This is my world.” His gaze met hers. “It obeys me. You are tired. Sleep.”
Before Bailey had time to register his demand, her body went limp, crumpling. The cool grass welcomed her, easing her to the ground.
He sat closer than usual. Bailey heart soared as their thighs pressed against each other. Several times, she’d caught him staring at her in a way that warmed her skin. Bailey hadn’t allowed herself to truly hope before now. The hand resting on his leg looked capable. Strong fingers. Thick veins. She wanted to touch it. Mim
icking his pose, Bailey set her hand on her thigh near his. Triumph surged through her as his hand inched closer. Holding her breath, Bailey slid her hand toward his. Their skin brushed. His pinky moved, capturing hers. Bailey bit her bottom lip, trying as hard as possible to hold in a smile. It was ridiculous how having one finger linked with his could change everything between them, but it had. She could feel the shift in their relationship in her chest.
Silk brushed her inner thighs, pulling Bailey from the memories that still haunted her sleep. Wet heat licked at her pussy, plunging Bailey into fiery need. No matter how hard she tried to pry her eyes open, it wasn’t happening. Her hips moved of their own accord. Cool air skittered across her bare skin, hardening her nipples. Bailey’s fingers found the soft cords restraining her hands above her head. She tugged. They didn’t budge and neither did her eyelids. Her nether lips parted. The pressure on her clit increased. Bailey tried moving her knee. Even she wasn’t sure if she wanted to close her legs against her unknown lover or open them wider. The pleasure was overwhelming. Her legs wouldn’t move. Concentrating on rotating her ankles, she realized something similar to what bound her wrists also bound her feet.
Warm lips closed around her clit, sucking. Her body betrayed her. Bailey writhed against the mouth eating her. There was no fear, only decadence. She wanted it. A moan rose in her throat. Her channel gave way for the tongue fucking her. A sliver of light appeared as Bailey pried her eyes open a hair. With a mental push, the room came into focus. It was her apartment. Yet it wasn’t. The walls were the same and most of the furnishings. Her bed was different. It was equipped for their type of play.
Bailey’s gaze shifted to the woman kneeling between her knees. Her blonde hair fell across Bailey’s thighs, tickling her. Blue eyes, too light to be natural, met hers. The woman boldly dragged her tongue down Bailey’s slit, making her pant. The muscles in her stomach clenched as Bailey tightened her hold on the restraints. Lifting her hips, she ground against the woman’s mouth, seeking relief. Nothing mattered except release. She didn’t question who the woman was or how they’d come to be here. Bailey’s body was on fire. Her breasts ached. The woman’s tongue was magic.
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