“Nice,” the brunette said, smiling. She held out her hand. “Elizabeth.”
Perfidious gripped it firmly, giving it a gentle shake. “Jim.”
“Nice to meet you, Jim.”
He felt more than saw the female who joined on his other side. Her scent intrigued him, had him turning, coming face-to-face with a beauty that defied all. For a second, he was captivated by her, unable to look away. Long blond hair, vivid amethyst eyes, the face of an angel. Though she wasn’t a celestial being, he sensed what she truly was.
Fae.
Her shy smile had Perfidious turning toward her.
“I’m Jim and this is Elizabeth. You would be?”
“Asmia.” She nodded kindly. “Nice to meet you both.”
“Please, join us,” Elizabeth urged. “Jim here seems to be shifting our luck.”
Asmia glanced over at him, her gaze sweeping his face as though attempting to see through the outer shell to the inside. He felt the mental push, her attempt to get inside his head, then saw the frown of disappointment that tugged that generous mouth downward.
“Drinks?”
His attention was pulled in another direction, this time to the black-haired waitress as she neared, leaning in to take the drink order of the male on the end. Perfidious stared as she jotted down Asmia’s request for a glass of wine.
When those green eyes met his, he held them for a moment. “Where’s Penelope? Isn’t she on the schedule tonight?”
The waitress studied his face. “Not tonight, no. She has Thursdays off.”
Ah. Good to know.
While the dealer went through the process of shuffling the cards with the machine, Perfidious pulled out his cell phone, shot a text to Seraphina. Something told him tonight would be the perfect time to eliminate the human once and for all. Though he enjoyed the game, he wasn’t one to overlook an opportunity when it presented itself, and truth be told, he wasn’t all that fond of the desert.
Although Asmia was certainly bringing him around.
“Can I get you something to drink?” the waitress offered, her tone clipped, as though he was holding her up.
“Scotch on the rocks,” he said, not caring what she brought him.
She offered a fake smile, moved to Elizabeth before gliding over to the next table.
The dealer was waiting for him to place his bet, so Perfidious forced his attention back to the table.
“What brings you to Vegas?” he asked Asmia as he situated his chips. “Business or pleasure?”
“Pleasure,” she said, the word coming out as a purr. He didn’t think it was intentional, but it drew his attention all the same. “And you?”
“Like Elizabeth, I’m here for business.”
Asmia’s gaze swung over to the brunette, then back to her cards.
This evening was turning out far better than he’d expected. Perfidious had only come to gauge the situation, to get another glimpse of Penelope. Instead, he was getting something far better.
“How do you know Penelope?” Asmia asked, her perfect eyebrows lowered.
He studied her momentarily. “She was here last night. I found myself quite taken by her.”
Asmia maintained her composure, turned her attention back to the table, but he couldn’t decipher what she was thinking.
“Do you know her?”
Asmia nodded, kept her attention forward. “You could say she’s a friend.”
Oh, really? Which meant the Fae was implanted in the Angels of Darkness. And if he had to guess, she was here tonight to keep an eye on the human.
His gaze swung to the elevator. Was she somewhere up there now? Hiding out with her angel in one of the rooms? Why else would Asmia be here?
Perfidious glanced back at the otherworldly female, smiled.
Looked as though his luck truly was changing.
For the next hour, Perfidious plied Asmia and Elizabeth with alcohol and generously tipped the waitress to keep her coming back. While the other chairs maintained a continuous rotation of guests, he managed to keep the females beside him, regaling them with bullshit stories, ones they would expect from a well-to-do businessman who traveled the world.
It wasn’t that he cared whether they knew he was a demon, but in an effort not to use mind control so as not to tip off the Fae, he had to resort to charm.
Granted, his efforts hadn’t garnered him any points with Asmia. She was keeping a polite distance, even while contributing to the conversation. On the other end of the spectrum, Elizabeth was all but sitting on his lap, batting her eyelashes anytime he spoke.
When it was apparent the human female had had too much to drink, Perfidious figured it was the perfect time to make his move. Sure, it was still early, but that left more time for other engagements.
“How about a nightcap?” he offered Elizabeth.
Those dazed brown eyes lifted and locked onto his. “Perfect idea.”
Yes. He knew it was.
Perfidious glanced over at Asmia. “Care to join us?”
She frowned beautifully. “Oh, no. You two enjoy yourselves.”
He got to his feet, smiled down at Asmia as he held out his hand.
Though her confusion was evident, she offered hers in return.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Asmia.” He took her fingers, brought them to his lips.
“Likewise,” she said with a sweet blush.
“Come now, Elizabeth. Let’s move this party somewhere more private.”
With a single parting glance to the dealer, Perfidious took the human female’s hand, headed toward the elevators. He could feel Asmia’s eyes on him but was unable to detect what she was thinking. Her mind was blocked the same as his was, not allowing him to peer inside. Such a pity, too. Even now, he was thinking about all the wicked things he wanted to do to that lush body.
“Patience,” he mumbled under his breath. “All good things come to those who wait.”
“Did you say something?” Elizabeth leaned into him as they waited for the elevator.
Perfidious shook his head, forced a smile.
The lift arrived, half a dozen humans stumbling out, laughing, smiling, enjoying themselves.
Exactly what he was about to do.
“God, you smell good,” Elizabeth crooned, all but throwing herself at him when they were sealed in the elevator.
Having enjoyed the evening, he was in a giving mood, allowing her to practically climb his body as she fused her lips to his. She was quite intoxicated and more than a little reckless taking a stranger up to her room, especially in this town, but he did enjoy a female who liked to walk on the wild side.
When the elevator stopped, Perfidious peeled her off him. “Show me your room, beautiful.”
Fifteen minutes later, Elizabeth was naked beneath him as he drove them both toward climax. In his mind’s eye, he saw the alluring Asmia lying there, golden hair spread out on the pillow as he rocked her body with every thrust of his hips.
“Jim! Oh, God! That feels so good.”
He could’ve told her God had nothing to do with it, but he refrained. No sense ruining the mood just yet.
Closing his eyes, he lived out his fantasy, driving Asmia closer to orgasm as her soft hands moved over him.
“Jim … yes! Make me come!”
The female’s voice shattered the fantasy, rage building inside him. Even as he tried once more to pretend, the human’s grating voice laid waste to the attempt, pissing him off more.
Ramming into her, Perfidious didn’t aim for finesse. He was driven by pure frustration, a desperate need to have the Fae beneath him. He wasn’t sure why he was so enamored with her, but for the first time in years, he had a new fixation. Something other than the long list of transgressions he was making right for his father.
“Fuck me, Jim!” Elizabeth squealed. “Harder.”
Realizing she’d outlived her usefulness, Perfidious gave her what she asked for, slamming into her hard enough to have her muddy brown
eyes widening, the pain he saw there ratcheting up his desire. Not at all worried about her pleasure, he took everything he wanted, thrusting in deep, hard, the human’s hisses drawing his release nearer.
Now that was better. If he couldn’t have Asmia, he’d settle for a terrified human.
“Jim! That hurts! Ow!” Her hands clutched his shoulders, as though she could stop his relentless efforts to bring himself to orgasm.
Perfidious didn’t let up even as she thrashed, attempting to shove him off her. The feeble human thought she stood a chance.
“Jim … please.” She cried out in shock, the sound rich with agony.
Only when she started to panic did he lean down, let her see the evil that lurked within him. Seconds later, he erupted deep inside her, coming with a roar that would be heard throughout the entire floor.
The female didn’t come, scrambling to get away as Perfidious rolled off her.
Dropping one arm over his eyes, he worked to regulate his breathing. “Very nice, Elizabeth. Not the best I’ve ever had, but worthy.”
He heard her desperate sobs, felt the mattress shift, relished the sounds of her trying to escape. Unfortunate for her, the door was locked with the power of his mind, impenetrable by her or anyone else.
“Is that any way to say thank you?” he taunted, getting to his feet.
In an effort to evade him, Elizabeth darted toward the bathroom.
He halted her with his mind.
Tears dripped down her cheeks as she stood frozen in place, naked as the day she was born.
“Much better. Don’t worry, beautiful, it’ll all be over soon.”
The female recoiled as though he’d slapped her, making him laugh.
Perfidious grabbed her arm, jerked her back to the bed, positioned her so she was spread out wide, giving the impression she’d endured one hell of a fucking. Terrified brown eyes stared up at him, her mouth open. He leaned in close, covered her mouth with his, and eased her fear in an instant, sucking her pathetic soul right out of her.
Perhaps it spoke to his depravity, but he did enjoy a terrified soul. There was a sweet taste to it that he found enticing.
Leaving the crudely posed naked heap on the bed, Perfidious dressed, ran a hand through his hair to ensure it was in place before strolling out of the room.
A smile on his lips.
If he was lucky, Asmia would still be downstairs.
Chapter Eleven
AFTER SHE’D SPENT THE ENTIRE NIGHT AND the following day with Obsidian, it had taken tremendous effort for Penelope to remember she had a job, a life, and neither could be ignored though Obsidian had made quite the argument, especially when he insisted she wouldn’t be able to function if she wasn’t with him. While she didn’t doubt the accuracy of that prediction, she got the feeling he was being a tad dramatic.
As much as she would’ve preferred to remain holed up in that hotel room, being treated like royalty and driven insane by his exquisite lovemaking, Penelope had managed to extract herself from his arms long enough to come home to get ready for work. After all, makeup was a rather important aspect of her nightly costume, and she wasn’t about to fresh-face it on the casino floor.
Strolling down the wide corridor to her apartment, Penelope paused when the door diagonal to hers opened.
“Good evening, young lady,” the older man greeted, his eyes scanning the hallway.
“Good evening, Mr. Murphy.”
His attention turned to her, visually assessing her from head to toe. “Are you working tonight, dear?”
“Yes, Mr. Murphy. I am.” She smiled kindly as she relayed the information for the hundredth time since she’d moved into this building all those months ago. “It’s Friday, remember?”
“It is, yes.” The elderly man flashed teeth a tad too large for his mouth. Whoever he’d gone to for his recent denture upgrade hadn’t done him a great service. Unless he’d asked for the beaver edition, which she doubted.
“But you’ve been gone a lot lately. I thought it changed.”
A lot in Mr. Murphy’s book being the equivalent to two days, mind you.
“It hasn’t. I’ve just been … staying with a friend,” Penelope explained when it was obvious he was waiting for more. “I came back real quick to get ready.”
And already she was missing Obsidian immensely. The coldness had started to make her bones ache from the minute she’d stepped out of the hotel, growing stronger with every mile she’d put between them. An overwhelming sadness was making her chest tight, but now that she knew what it was, she could force it down. The longer she was away from him, the more she understood the disappointment he’d felt when she insisted she returned to her apartment. Obsidian had fought tooth and nail, but finally, he’d relented. Clearly not without just cause.
The thought of him aching with longing the way she was didn’t sit well.
Honestly, she’d expected him to come with her, but at the last minute, he’d said he had something he needed to take care of.
“Sorry then.” Mr. Murphy’s eighty-seven-year-old smoker’s lungs took a brief moment to hack before his lips pulled back in another toothy grin.
“Sorry for what?”
“I told your friends you’d be back soon.”
Penelope pivoted to face him more fully. “My friends?”
“Three gentlemen.” His dark gaze bounced toward her door. “Stopped by a couple of hours ago.”
She glanced over her shoulder at her apartment door, a warning tingle dancing along her spine. “Did they happen to mention who they were?”
Mr. Murphy shook his head. “Not too friendly. I asked, but they refused to answer my questions.” His bushy brows lowered. “In fact, they didn’t utter a word. Rather unpleasant fellows.”
Since Penelope didn’t have a single friend who had ever come to visit her here—Obsidian being the exception—the entire conversation was moot. “Thanks, Mr. Murphy.”
“Anytime, young lady. But you really should tell them to keep the noise to a minimum when they visit.”
“Did they go inside?”
Her elderly neighbor nodded, his fuzzy gray hair waving. “They did. Stayed for about thirty minutes. Like I said, you should tell them to keep it down.”
Concerned as to what was going on, Penelope nodded. “I’ll be sure to do that.”
His door closed with a gentle click, and she angled her way across the wide hall. Based on the appearance of her door, there was no sign anyone had been here. Or if they had, they hadn’t forced their way inside. Good news was, it wasn’t damaged.
But it was unlocked.
Maintaining her position outside, she pushed the door open, allowed it to hit the wall with a thud.
That was when the good news ended.
“Son of a bitch,” she grumbled, taking in the destruction.
Remembering the outcome of the dumb girl in nearly every horror movie ever made, Penelope paused, listened. There were no sounds coming from inside, other than the loud hum from the cattywampus refrigerator.
“What the hell?” she mumbled as she stepped inside, glass crunching beneath her feet.
The devastation was endless. Her apartment was in shambles. The red sofa with white piping had been shredded, cushions tossed around, bleeding stuffing all over the floor. The lamp that had once curved over the sofa was lying on its side, the brass shade crushed. Her television had joined the lamp, tossed on its face, while the stand that had once been its home was splintered into dozens of pieces.
The two short stools at the center island hadn’t fared any better. The contents of her kitchen cabinets were strewn across the counters, and in the sink, pots, pans, and utensils were decorated by the slivers of glass sparkling in the glow of the overhead lights.
When her cell phone rang, her vertical leap would’ve made an Olympic athlete proud. She snagged her phone from her purse, her hand covering her heart, hoping the damn thing didn’t jump clean out of her chest.
“Penelo
pe, what’s wrong?” Obsidian’s tone was rich with panic.
“Someone…” She scanned the devastation. “Someone broke into my apartment. They… God, Obsidian. They destroyed it.”
“Get out of there now,” he insisted.
“It’s fine. They’re gone. My neighbor saw them leave.”
“Penelope.”
“I’m fine, Obsidian. I just… I need to call the police.”
“No. Wait for me to get there.”
She wasn’t sure what he could possibly do that the police couldn’t, but Penelope assured him she would wait, then tucked her phone back in her pocket.
Needing to see the extent of the destruction, she headed for the bedroom, utilizing the fancy maneuvers she’d picked up in those cop shows: keeping close to the wall, peeking around corners. When she deemed it safe, she strolled into her bedroom and inhaled sharply. The damage in here was ten times worse than the living room. Everything was destroyed. The mattress upended, springs sticking out of the various holes that had been made. The small bedside lamp was shattered, alarm clock gutted, the stand that held them smashed to bits. Even her comforter was ripped down the middle.
Of course, her neighborhood intruders hadn’t stopped there. Her closet was puking up clothes, all of which now resembled ribbons. Even her shoes were in pieces, heels snapped off, her favored Converse sliced and diced, boots sheared in half.
“Nice. Just what I don’t need right now.”
Penelope turned toward the bathroom, freezing when her eyes landed on the fractured pieces of the mirror. More accurately, the words written in red lipstick across them: He will not have you.
“What the hell does that mean?”
In an effort not to hyperventilate, she focused on the rest of the space. Makeup littered the floor, stomped to smithereens. Shampoo, conditioner, and body wash were bleeding out into the bathtub, coating the shower curtain that lay in a heap. Even her bath bombs were pulverized into dust.
Her knees were weak, so she leaned against the doorjamb, her attention shifting back to the mirror. He will not have you.
Protected in Darkness (Misplaced Halos, 1) Page 16