A handful of cells in a damp cellar were a pathetic replacement for the spacious prison he had built to specifications back at the compound. A prison whose bays now stood empty thanks to Michael, the bastard son of a one-legged troll. Joshua growled as he entered what, from the outside, appeared to be a small shed. Using his boot, he scraped aside the layer of dirt that covered the hidden entrance, which lay flush with the rough plank floor. There were no lights along the steep staircase, but as they descended his daemon saw everything.
“My Prince.” The lone guard rose from his chair and dipped his chin.
Joshua ignored him, his daemon half too impatient and greedy for small talk. There were four cells, three of which sat empty. The fourth only recently became occupied. He felt the wards humming as he approached the bars, but wasn’t worried. The spell was designed to allow certain daemons in and out—Joshua and a few trusted guards. That was it.
Joshua regarded the female, watching her twitch and shift in her sleep. Her eyes moved behind closed lids. His daemon rose and stretched his claws whilst grinning.
“Having bad dreams?”
“Oh!” The prisoner flailed, her arms shooting out to the sides to keep from falling off the narrow metal shelf that served as a bed. Eyes narrowed, she sneered. “You! Let me out of here.”
Feisty little thing. Perfection. His daemon was pleased with their newest treasure. One they would caress and revel in. Theirs to own and do with as they pleased.
“Comfortable?” they asked. With their hands out of sight behind their back, their claws extended from their fingertips. “Don’t be. In case you hadn’t noticed…” They gestured to their surroundings. “This isn’t a day spa.” His daemon half’s hunger grew exponentially. The beast roared and snapped at the invisible barrier that kept him contained within his body, Joshua still holding him back… for just a moment more.
The female jutted out her chin, eyes burning with hatred. She spoke slowly and with much more ferocity than Joshua thought she had in her. “Fuck. You.”
Pleased with his new toy, Joshua laughed. He enjoyed this facet of his belonging. She amused him. It was akin to watching a kitten pretend to be a lion.
“Do all angels say such pretty things?” he asked. The female pressed her lips together and said nothing. She was smart, this angel. She knew Joshua and his daemon were taunting her into losing control. The more she protested being there, the more his greed would be satisfied. “Silence won’t save you,” they said calmly.
With a wave of their hand, the cell door unlocked and swung open. She flew to her feet and her eyes widened. Intrigued and hungry, they stalked forward, hunting their prey. The angel backed into a corner and held up her hands.
“Stay away from me.”
He inhaled and caught the sweet scent of angel mingled with the remaining hints of her fury. Playing with his newest asset would have to do… for now. Once he was done here, he would gather his daemons and force them to watch him with the feisty angel. The jealousy that poured off of them as they coveted what was his would fulfill his daemon. Their greedy eyes on such a beauty whilst he took her would be a meal he would enjoy. They wouldn’t like it as they didn’t require sex to feed, but in truth, she wouldn’t like it either. Too bad. She was immortal. She would live. And sex with a prized female was the fastest way to spark the greed of others.
They grabbed the female’s wrists, careful not to let their claws pierce her pristine skin and they hissed. The mouthy angel cried out when she got a good look at their gleaming fangs. “It’s playtime,” they growled. “And you’re my prize.”
The more she fought, the more satisfied his daemon at owning such a creature. Timid did nothing for them. True greed came from either owning that which others desired, or from owning that which didn’t want to be owned.
The angel fell into both categories.
Her screams were fucking delicious.
“GET me another immortal and do it now!”
It took Circe’s very best acting skills to keep from showing the utter disdain she held for the creature who barked orders as often as he took a breath, but she managed. Barely. She was a professional, after all. Usually, she would simply seduce any male who had what she wanted, and do it in under three seconds.
This one, he was immune to her female charms, despite the spells cast under her breath when he wasn’t listening. A big part of Circe was glad for his unwillingness to get down and dirty. The thought of doing anything physical with the tall, ugly, rail-thin, and sickly-looking immortal had bile burning her esophagus. The more time she spent around the Horseman, the stronger the urge grew to push him into an open portal.
“I shall be right back.” Circe used her husky, seductive voice, not that the impotent aberration gave an angel’s tit what she sounded like. Famine was obsessed all right, but with feeding upon immortals. For whatever reason, sex wasn’t on his menu.
Freak.
Frowning, she dematerialized to an abandoned alley she utilized often. In a more popular area of the city, where humans and immortals indulged in the bustling nightlife—clubs, bars, theaters, restaurants—it made for the perfect hunting grounds for collecting the greedy-ass Horseman’s next victim. In truth, though she would never admit it out loud, Famine made her nervous, and as a class eight sorceress, Circe never got nervous. What was worrisome, was the Horseman’s rapidly increasing appetite for immortal energy. His hunger had begun to spiral out of control, and with each immortal consumed, the Horseman’s already substantial power grew multiplied ten-fold. If Famine continued to devour immortals at his current rate, in no time he would be all but unstoppable.
Circe didn’t know how to feel about that. On one hand, she was a mercenary, a sorceress who sold her abilities to the highest bidder. Except five centuries ago when Famine had bound her with a cursed stone. At the time, she wanted to kill the bastard for enslaving her.
Now, Circe didn’t give a shit what Famine did or who he killed, yet part of her worried for her own safety. If the Horseman amassed enough power, mayhap he could quite possibly kill her. After losing her lover so long ago, the one and only thing in existence that Circe cared about more than wealth and power, was herself.
Plan in mind, she exited the alley and, dressed in leather boots, booty shorts, and with her tits practically hanging out, headed for a local fetish club. As she neared the entrance, Circe snorted and rolled her eyes. Ridiculous humans—not to mention the utterly pathetic immortals searching for easy pickings—waited in line, like her, dressed in head to toe black. Some painted their faces, heavy kohl around their eyes and pale white powder pressed to their skin so as to pretend to be vampires or something equally ridiculous. It was an insult to the source of human vampire legends. In truth, no succubus or incubus would dare look or act so foolish.
The human bouncer saw Circe coming and she put on her best come-hither smile. A ripple of satisfaction flickered through her when his eyes bulged. Wearing a skin tight bustier adorned with metal studs, equally tight spandex shorts that rode up her ass, and knee-high patent leather high heeled boots, she knew exactly what her appearance did to the male. Top it off with long, shining waves of dark hair and bright red painted lips, and Circe looked every bit the dominatrix, ready to find her next human whipping post. Gaze never leaving the bouncer, she brushed past the long line of black clad stultuses.
“Hello, gorgeous,” the human said, his eyes roving up and down. Hooked, baited, and caught. She could almost see the drool dripping from the corner of his mouth. Almost too easy. But… she must needs bring Famine an immortal, not a human, though she’d love to play with this one for a bit. Mayhap a round or two of hot sex. Unfortunately not tonight. Circe leaned forward and slowly ran her tongue over her scarlet lips.
“Why hello, back.” She winked and put a single fingertip on the male’s Adam’s apple, then dragged her blood red nail from his throat all the way up to the tip of his chin. “May I go in?”
He swallowed and nodded. “O-of c
-course.”
Circe smiled, hiding her amusement, and touch of disgust at his stuttering, behind a seductive pout. “Thank you.” Much too easy.
Swaying her hips, she entered the dark club. The big dummy didn’t even require her to use a charming spell. Multiple sets of eyes followed her path to the bar. Circe ignored them all. The bartender literally tripped over himself to serve her and once she had a drink in hand, she turned and searched for the perfect victim.
“Good evening.”
Without even turning to face the male who shifted one barstool over to claim the seat next to hers, Circe knew him to be the one. Inhaling deep, she pulled upon her senses to categorize him—immortal, lesser daemon, power so-so. She was done bringing Famine the strongest immortals from which to feed. She must needs utilize caution. He was becoming too strong, too fast, and if that meant diluting his food sources by choosing less powerful meals, then that’s exactly what she would do.
“May I buy you a drink?”
Circe tilted her head and met a pair of dark brown eyes. The male was gorgeous. Such a shame. Her lips tugged up at the corners and she leaned in conspiratorially. “Why don’t we get out of here instead, handsome?”
The daemon hid his shock well, but he was pleased. “Let’s go,” he whispered in her ear. After dropping cash on the bar, he grabbed her hand and led her to the door.
Where has the challenge gone?
Whatever. The reward Famine promised her was worth dealing with the tedium. If the creepy fuck didn’t lose control first.
“WOW. Does anyone I know live in a place that doesn’t belong in an upscale design magazine?” Hope turned in a circle, taking in the penthouse owned by Davin Cassavettes and his girlfriend, her ex-roommate, Verity Fairchild. Though it was simple and modern, it didn’t feel cold. Even so, every item screamed money. Hope kept her arms locked tight at her sides, afraid she might knock over a ten-thousand-dollar knick-knack.
Not everyone lives in luxury.
She recalled Thomas’s small apartment, the space humble just like the man. The thought made her smile. It didn’t take expensive things to make her happy. All she needed was Thomas.
Faith shrugged. “I didn’t earn a single thing. Dante did. I just live there.”
“Me, too,” Vee added. “I couldn’t care less about all this stuff.” She waved her hand in the air. “I just want Davin, money or no money.” Her cheeks flushed.
“Aw, you’re adorable when you’re in love,” Hope joked, though she was glad to find out her friends didn’t care about wealth either.
“Stop,” Vee replied as she tried to hold back what looked like a combination of embarrassment and laughter.
Faith and Hope cracked up at the strangled sound Vee made and once she caught her breath, Vee couldn’t help but join in. It felt good to let loose with her friends. It made Hope feel normal. After what happened last night with Thomas. she figured she’d feel different somehow, and she did. Just not physically. The sex was phenomenal. Everything she dreamt it would be. It was what went down after they made love that cut her laughter short.
“Hope?”
“Huh?” She glanced up and found Faith and Vee staring, both wearing concerned expressions. “What?”
“Um, why do you look like someone kicked your puppy?” Faith asked.
Hope squinted. “I don’t have a puppy.”
Vee snorted, which earned her a glare from Faith. Faith turned back to Hope, took her by the hand, and lead her to a long gray couch. She tugged Hope down and oh my God! She almost groaned out loud at the way the cushions cradled her butt and how soft the suede fabric felt to the touch.
“It’s just a saying,” Faith said. “There’s no puppy.” She huffed. “What I mean is, you were laughing, then all of a sudden looked really sad. Like you thought about something bad.”
Crap. It was just like Hope to forget how perceptive her friends were. But if she were honest with herself, it was the very reason she wanted to see them. Hope needed someone to talk to about Thomas, and their… relationship, if you could even call it that. Heck, what did Hope know? She was a virgin until twelve hours ago.
She exhaled. Faith and Vee were her only friends besides Garrett, and right now, just hearing Thomas’s name would probably send her brother into a violent tirade.
“Actually,” Hope said. “I did want to talk to you guys about something.”
Vee sat on the other side of Hope and clutched her hand. “You can tell us anything. You know that, right?”
Nodding, Hope struggled to decide where to start. After a bunch of lip-chewing and volleying ideas back and forth in her mind, she ended up beginning with her and Thomas’s first date. How he took her home and they kissed, then ran away like she had Ebola.
“The way he left…” She sniffed. “It felt like he was maybe ashamed of my past, you know, as a stripper.”
“Hmm. I work with Thomas every day and I like to think I know him fairly well,” Faith said. “I honestly don’t believe he would care. Besides, he’s not the jealous, domineering type. If he really likes you, I guarantee your past doesn’t matter.”
“Then why else would he run?”
The three of them sat silent for a minute, then Vee spoke. “Maybe he didn’t want to push too hard. I mean, it was your first date.”
“Thomas does seem pretty, um, traditional,” Faith added. “It would be just like him to kind of back off and give you time to think.” Hope must have looked confused, because Faith hurried to explain. “He wouldn’t want to pressure you for more. Thomas doesn’t strike me as a fuck ‘em and leave ‘em type of guy.”
“Yeah, not like Dante and Davin,” Vee said, totally deadpan.
Hope’s jaw dropped.
“They’re not like that anymore,” Faith said, frowning at Vee before turning to meet Hope’s gaping stare. Faith rolled her eyes and sighed. “Fine. They were players, I can admit it. But Vee left out the part where our men stopped screwing around the second they met us.” She shot daggers at Vee over Hope’s head. “Right, Vee?”
“Yeah, she’s right. They’re both totally faithful. Like, over the top in love with us.”
“That must be nice,” Hope mumbled as she stared at her lap.
“Tell us the rest. That can’t be everything,” Faith prodded.
“It’s not.” God this was hard. Hope couldn’t look at her friends as she told them she lost her virginity to Thomas, just last night.
“That’s awesome!” Vee squealed, scaring Hope so she flailed and nearly fell off the couch.
“Vee…” Faith warned. “In case you didn’t notice, Hope isn’t exactly jumping up and down.” Faith returned her attention to Hope. “What happened, hon?”
“After, you know…” Her face burst into flames. “We, um, got dressed. Garrett was going to be home from work soon, and I had to get Thomas out. If Garrett knew what we did…” Hope inhaled a shaky breath. “Oh my God, my brother would…” She shuddered. “Let’s just say it wouldn’t be pretty.”
“Okay, that sounds like Garrett,” Vee said. “And it’s not unreasonable to ask Thomas to leave.”
Hope freed her hands from her friends’ grasps and twisted her fingers. “We moved to the couch and I poured some wine. Everything was fine, then Thomas started pushing me to quit my job.” The shock and anger Hope felt last night reignited, sending a heated flush across her skin. “I mean, who does he think he is to tell me what to do? Just because we had sex doesn’t mean he gets to run my life.” She knew her voice was rising, but couldn’t stop. “I love my job. I love working for Dante.” She snuck a glance at Faith who wore a sympathetic expression. “It was total bullshit and I called him on it.”
“So, you told him to shove it?” Vee asked. “What’s the problem? Did he become an asshole about it?”
Faith squinted. “I can’t picture Thomas acting like an asshole.”
Hope cringed. “No. Uh, Garrett came home and he became an asshole… about everything but mostly about
Thomas being there.”
“Uh oh,” Faith whispered.
“Then Garrett and I fought over Garrett butting into my life, which wasn’t all that different from what Thomas had tried to do. So now Garrett’s mad at me. And I don’t know what Thomas thinks because Garrett tossed him out before we could talk.” Hope threw her hands in the air.
“Dang, you had a hell of a night.” Vee patted Hope’s back.
“Yeah.” Hope turned to Faith and winced, ducking her head. “Um, so tomorrow at work, you might possibly, maybe, definitely see Thomas with a black eye.”
Neither Faith nor Vee spoke. You could have heard a pin drop on the other side of the fifteen thousand square foot penthouse. After a minute or two, the silence was killing her. Hope peeked up and saw both of them trying not to laugh, their cheeks red and shoulders shaking.
“It’s not funny!” she said, indignant.
Vee lost it first, laughing like a maniac. “It kind of is.”
“Yep,” Faith agreed, snickering. “Prim and proper Thomas More getting punched. Who would have thought? Well, he acted like a douche and you called him on it. When he wouldn’t listen, Garrett pounded it into him. Now Thomas knows not to boss you around. Case closed.”
Hope gasped. “I can’t believe you two think violence is okay.”
They shrugged and Faith said, “It’s not okay, but that doesn’t mean it’s not funny. That’s what Thomas gets for being a controlling bag of dicks.”
“Bag of dicks,” Hope repeated slowly. “Oh my God.” She groaned and covered her face with her hands. Then it happened. Laughter bubbled up and she couldn’t stop it even if she wanted to. Hope doubled over and clutched her stomach, hysterical. “Bag of dicks, Faith?”
“Dante’s best friend Jack has colorful language.”
“We have to hang out more with this Jack,” Hope said as she wiped tears from her eyes.
Hope For More (Trinity Book 3) Page 22