Where Demons Fear to Tread

by Stephanie Chong

  Praise for

  STEPHANIE CHONG

  “Chong delivers a wicked tale of a sexy guardian angel

  battling for a not-so-lost demon’s soul.”

  —New York Times bestselling author Caridad Piñeiro

  “Stephanie Chong taps into a delicious fantasy

  older than time, spinning it masterfully into a sexy,

  moving tale that feels fresh and new.

  I am sincerely her newest fan.”

  —New York Times bestselling author Maggie Shayne

  “Mix a spirited angel with a sexy demon,

  and you get one heavenly read!”

  —New York Times bestselling author Kerrelyn Sparks

  Watch for the next book

  in the Company of Angels series

  coming from Stephanie Chong and MIRA Books.

  THE DEMONESS OF WAKING DREAMS

  will be available in fine bookstores everywhere

  in Spring 2012.

  WHERE DEMONS FEAR TO TREAD

  STEPHANIE CHONG

  To Ed, my beloved husband,

  my very own demon lover turned guardian angel.

  Contents

  Prologue

  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 Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  The Hotel Lussuria, Present Day Las Vegas

  Nobody understood the fine art of poison like Luciana Rossetti.

  After two hundred years, the mysteries of deadly plants, of animal extracts and lethal bacteria had long since surrendered their secrets to Luciana’s subtle hand. Adder venom or anthrax, belladonna or botulinum, she loved them all. Took pleasure in the unique properties of every toxin. Her pale green eyes glittered, fixed on the vial she held now, the liquid inside it deceptively dull beneath the crystal chandeliers cascading from the vaulted ceiling overhead.

  A tiny glass vial whose contents looked as guiltless as holy water.

  Colorless. Odorless. Tasteless.

  Perfection.

  But this little vial held not a blessing, but a curse. A curse only a demon could dream up. A curse that could send another of her kind straight back to hell.

  “What’s in your newest concoction, my love?”

  Her lover’s voice broke her reverie. His fingers slid through her sable curls, his lips brushed against the exposed skin of her neck. What feathered down her body was not a shiver of pleasure, but anticipation of something darker.

  “Something splendid, mio caro,” she said, her voice sweet and smooth.

  Luciana knew better than to disclose the little vial’s exact contents, even to Corbin. Especially not to Corbin. In the three months of their affiliation, she had learned that he was not a creature to be toyed with. Nor was he to be trusted. His clean-cut Nordic masculinity could have featured in an ad campaign for yachting or polo. But in his amber-colored eyes, cruelty lit like a flash of lightning, that quick and that powerful.

  Every demon in his employ, within this hotel and in all his others, respected and feared him. As an Archdemon deserved to be respected and feared.

  For Luciana, the benefits of taking Corbin as a lover outweighed the considerable risks. He was the fastest way to get what she wanted.

  Revenge.

  He pulled her toward the sofa, and she clutched the little vial in the palm of her hand as they sank together into the sumptuous velvet. His amber eyes regarded her, a lion’s gaze settling on a prime bit of prey. She steeled herself to look back squarely. That, or be eaten alive.

  With a blink, his intensity dissipated. He released her suddenly. “Let’s test it out.”

  “Is there a dog somewhere in the hotel?” she asked.

  “Hell, no. There’s a bellboy who might be able to help us out.” From an elegant little side table, he picked up a phone and said, “Send up the one who broke the vase.”

  When the bellboy arrived, Luciana almost felt sorry for him, a frail little excuse for a demon, who flinched visibly at Corbin’s strong handshake.

  So fragile, he’s practically human, she thought.

  “Are you aware that the vase you broke dated back to the Ming Dynasty?” Corbin said calmly.

  The boy coughed. “No, sir. I didn’t realize. I apologize.”

  Corbin let out a heavy sigh. “Sit down. Have a drink with us while we decide what is to be done. I’ve just decanted a vintage merlot I think we’ll all enjoy.” He gestured to Luciana. “Will you do the honors, my dear?”

  While the young man took a seat in a leather chair, Luciana turned her back to them and poured three glasses of wine. Corbin distracted him with mindless talk as she meted out a few drops from the vial into the first glass. She watched, fascinated as it dissolved into the blood-red liquid. Seamless. Deadly. That glass, she handed to the boy.

  “Please. Drink,” said the Archdemon. She served Corbin a glass, and he swirled the wine, observing its color and its legs before inhaling its scent. He swallowed, and a smile of immense satisfaction crossed his face.

  Luciana sipped her own wine, the dark notes of oak and plum sliding down her throat, loosening the wire-tight stretch of her nerves.

  Finally, the boy took a small gulp that sent his Adam’s apple up and down in an awkward little dance. “I know the vase must have been expensive, sir. I’m very sorry. I’ll pay for it somehow.”

  “You could never,” said Corbin. “It was priceless. Worth a hundred times your yearly salary. It would take you a century to pay for it. I don’t think I’m willing to wait that long. Indeed, one might even say the vase was worth more than you are. The question of repayment is nil.”

  “There must be some way,” said the boy. Worry creased his face. He swallowed once, touching a spot in the center of his neck. Then he cleared his throat. And again. The sound was awful even to Luciana’s ears, the noise of death rattling up his windpipe as he began to choke.

  He fell on the floor, twisting and convulsing. Luciana braced herself against reacting to his feebleness. If Corbin scented weakness in her, he would destroy her, too. But she was not weak. Weakness was something she had let go of two hundred years ago. When she’d let go of her own human life.

  The twitching finally stopped. The boy lay on the floor, so still that his quietness seemed to create a vacuum in the room, a black hole of stillness. She did not look. She had seen corpses before, more than she cared to remember, although mostly human ones. The demon body had all the physical characteristics of the human one, but was virtually indestructible. Yet, as she had just proven, not altogether immortal. It was the soul that could never be destroyed. The soul of this boy would go back to where Corbin had found it.

  Back to hell.

  Corbin swirled his glass again. “So he was useful, after all. Poison is such an antiquated means of disposal, but it produces some interesting results.”

  She inclined her head and smiled, accepting the compliment.

  “This wine has such a lovely bouquet. Complex, yet subtle,” he said, returning her smile. “I so love a woman who appreciates the finer things in life.”

  She tucked the vial into a silk sachet and then into her handbag. The poison had worked on a low-ranking demon. But its intended victim was a hundred times stronger.


  Corbin caught her gaze, perhaps wondering if he were the intended victim. In that moment, she wondered how much he guessed. Whether he sensed that she was using him as a means to an end. But then he said, “If it can kill a demon, perhaps it could be useful in dealing with the Company of Angels. They’ve been causing trouble for me lately. Like sewer rats.”

  Luciana resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

  Corbin was obsessed with the Company, a group of Guardians, whose vast network stretched around the globe. They worked in units of a few dozen individuals each, more united than anything demons had ever managed to organize. By their nature, demons were highly divisive, argumentative and generally incapable of cooperation. Unless driven by a dictator. Like Corbin.

  “Why don’t you just obliterate the Company outright?” she suggested, masking her disinterest. Luciana couldn’t care less about angels. It was a demon she wanted to kill. One demon in particular.

  “There are rules in the battle between angels and demons,” he said, frowning deeply. “Rules that must be honored. Rules that must not be broken.”

  “Rules can be bent.”

  His frown eased. “Your talents are wasted as a rogue demon, my dear. You may have your independence, but you don’t have the support of a critical mass backing you. Consider joining my organization in a formal capacity.”

  “Perhaps one day, mio caro,” she said.

  The day hell freezes over. She would sooner poison herself and return to hell than join Corbin’s demon mafia, under his control. Once she had finished what she had come here to accomplish, she would leave immediately, return to her home half a world away. Backc to Venice.

  And she did not plan on seeing Corbin again.

  Now, he caught her by the waist, kissed her deeply. He whispered against her skin the perverse things he would do to her, the odd ways he had of pleasuring a woman, torturous yet strangely arousing all at once. It was difficult to say that she actually disliked having sex with him. Perhaps if the circumstances had been different, she would have let herself enjoy it. But they were not. She kissed him back and let her hands wander down his hard body, encouraging him. Letting the flush of his lust sweep away his suspicion.

  To Luciana, Corbin was the lesser of two evils. She was far more concerned with his friend and business partner. Julian Ascher, the man who had ruined her life. Who had corrupted her innocence, had seduced her and then betrayed her. Who had left her no choice but to survive the only way she knew how. By harnessing the darkness within herself.

  Now, the time of vengeance was approaching.

  Revenge was a dish best served cold. Luciana’s had been chilling for over two centuries, frozen into solid hatred, hard as ice, a dish she would shove down Julian’s throat with the greatest of pleasure.

  Chapter One

  West Hollywood, Los Angeles

  Devil’s Paradise was the hottest place to party on a Saturday night in the City of Angels. The perfect venue for temptation. The ideal setting for sin. And it was all his.

  Julian Ascher surveyed his nightclub from a glassed-in observation tower two stories above the dance floor. Below, a sea of nubile bodies writhed to the booming bass of the music. Sweat and pheromones mingled in the air. A legion of bartenders worked behind the bars of polished white terrazzo marble, pouring rivers of cocktails, beer and shots.

  Most nights, Julian was content to stand up here, watching. But tonight, he was restless. Deep in his gut, a tension was building. He needed something to relieve that tension.

  Preferably something soft and feminine.

  He swung open the tower door. A blast of music and the heat from hundreds of bodies hit him, blaring into his pores as he descended the metal staircase to the main floor. The crowd parted, sensing his power as he strode through the club, past upturned, admiring faces. Regulars reached out to shake his hand—a drunken football hero here, an underage starlet there.

  A few women tried to engage him in conversation; he disengaged them easily and continued on his path. It was a hobby of his to destroy beautiful women. He found a great deal of gratification in ruining the sublime. But he had very particular tastes, and none of the females here tonight suited him. Disappointed, he wandered onward.

  “Julian, over here!” the club’s general manager shouted, trying to flag him down.

  “Not now,” he called back without stopping. He roamed through the mass of beautiful people who flocked here like butterflies drawn to a pool of nectar. As an Archdemon, Julian had been responsible for the corruption of thousands of souls. His chain of nightclubs stretched across the country. It had come to fruition after two hundred years of studying humans in their greatest moments of weakness and desperation, of fantasy and desire. And Julian, the owner of this empire of iniquity, had become a connoisseur of pleasure.

  At the beginning, it wasn’t so simple. As a fledgling demon, he’d had his share of battles over souls that he frequently lost. But now, after these two centuries, it was all becoming a little bit too easy. These days, when Julian fought for a soul, he always won.

  His latest venture, Devil’s Ecstasy, would open in Vegas at the end of the month. Housed in fellow Archdemon Corbin Ranulfson’s spectacular Hotel Lussuria, the newest nightclub would be Julian’s pièce de résistance. A guaranteed success.

  So why wasn’t he satisfied?

  He swept his way through the crowd and into the VIP lounge. On the white leather furniture, couples necked and threesomes groped in plain sight. In one corner, a popular young Hollywood actor was snorting lines of coke off a call girl’s exposed ass. Around him, clubgoers stared.

  “Keep him happy,” Julian said to one of his staff members. “Make sure he’s well supplied tonight.”

  Julian’s jaded gaze surveyed the scene, utterly indifferent to the lascivious behavior he saw around him. The same lecherous acts he saw every night that the club was open for business. Nothing here remotely excited him.

  Sunk in utter apathy, Julian turned, ready to head back toward his observation post.

  Then he saw her.

  In the periphery of his vision, she shimmered like gold in a muddy riverbank. He blinked, unsure if what he’d seen was a trick of the light. When he turned his head to look again, there she stood.

  She was dressed for a day at the beach, not for a night at the temple of sin. Her simple yellow sundress showcased toned arms and lithe curves. Blond hair curled in waves down her back. The structure of her face was classical perfection, her beauty so striking that it caught his eye even from a distance. Other men saw her, too. They circled like sharks scenting blood in the water. Was she searching for a lost friend? A lover?

  As he stared, salivating, she looked up, as though she could read his thoughts across the noise and the crush of the VIP lounge. She gazed straight into his eyes. From thirty feet away, it was a direct challenge. Then she turned and disappeared.

  Somewhere deep inside him, the hunter’s instinct engaged.

  He tracked her through the crowd, glimpsing her blond hair, the exposed flesh of her shoulder as she wove deeper into the throng. The beat of the music pounded through his veins like an amphetamine high, spurring him on. He pushed his way toward her, oblivious to manners.

  When she was within reaching distance, he closed his fingers around her arm. It was like stroking a newborn’s cheek, her skin was so soft. The silk-covered steel of her biceps flexed beneath his tightening grip. Desire surged through his fingertips and landed straight in his groin. She stopped dead at his touch, swung to face him. From a distance, she was beautiful. Up close, she was divine.

  His gaze drifted over her high cheekbones, her lush lips, her wide and trusting eyes. The innocence he saw in those eyes had nothing to do with guilelessness, and everything to do with faith. Faith in the untainted goodness of humankind. He wanted to devour her. To sink into her, to make himself a part of her and never let her go.

  As he gripped her arm, time hung suspended. All noise stopped. Into that silence brok
e the rustling of feathers, the flare of a wingspan unfolding. The realization sent a jolt of energy reeling through his body—she was an angel. A Guardian, the lowest rank of celestial beings, responsible for the earthly care of humanity.

  Why he was so surprised, he didn’t know. He’d encountered angels many times before, had battled with them often. But never were they foolish enough to set foot in his nightclubs. What was she doing here, in his domain?

  He blinked. Around them, the club whirled back into action, the pounding bass of the dance music flooded back into his bones. She twisted, trying to disengage herself. He tightened his grip, unwilling to let go.

  Whatever her reasons, she, in her innocent little sundress, with her laughable belief in the goodness of the human race, had entered Devil’s Paradise.

  And she was on his territory now.

  What stopped Serena St. Clair was a mere brush of fingertips against her bare upper arm. The touch of a lover. A caress so gentle, so reverent and yet so sensual that it sent pleasure skimming over the surface of her skin. It washed over her entirely and set the most secret places of her body singing. Even in the hot crush of the nightclub, the sensation was so intense it stopped her cold.

  When she turned, she found herself looking into the face of a god. Angular planes chiseled to a perfect symmetry that only a divine hand could have wrought. But his eyes were pure sin. There was no goodness in that gaze, only naked desire. He towered over her, his athlete’s build draped in a perfectly cut suit, a dress shirt open at the throat. Armani, if she had to guess. His dark hair was artfully tousled, a casualness that contradicted the intensity of his gaze.

  “Welcome to Devil’s Paradise. I’m Julian Ascher.”

  His voice, low and deep, seemed to vibrate in her bones.

  For a moment, she stood stunned. Then she reminded herself to breathe. Squeezing her eyes shut, she directed a burst of energy into his mind, a bright light that would override his willpower and wipe his memory clean of her. She waited for him to stumble away and release her, leaving her free to complete her assignment.