Dark Paradise: A Revelation Series Novel (The Revelation Series Book 6)

by Randi Cooley Wilson

  My eyes drop down to the red Oriental rug covering the floor before I slowly raise my gaze, taking in my captor. Pissed off, I look him directly in his black, soulless eyes.

  “Niece, you’re lovely, as always,” Asmodeus purrs inappropriately.

  I throw a look of disdain at him, unable to talk with my mouth covered. As the demon of lust, Asmodeus always uses a suggestive tone that makes my skin crawl—blood or not.

  Several of my uncle’s minions suddenly appear and stand behind him. They don’t move or look at one another. They wait for my uncle’s cues. Only one breaks formation as his gaze roams over my body, which I am now realizing is currently only covered in a black tank top and matching boy shorts. These assholes must have taken me from my bed while I slept. At the thought, my eyes widen with realization. Oh shit! Gage. No. No. No.

  Panicked, I wriggle my wrists, trying to loosen them and break free.

  Asmodeus makes a noise in the back of his throat and takes a purposeful step towards me, then leans down until we’re at eye level. “The cuffs are sealing stone. No magic.”

  I lift my chin and mouth off at him under the tape, ticked off at what he’s doing. In response, my uncle caresses my left cheek, as if consoling me. Then he stands, exhales, and quickly backhands me. The force of it causes my head to snap to the right and blood to seep out of my nose, dripping onto his already crimson-colored rug. My eyes sting with tears from the sheer pain. Blinking a few times, I notice one of the hellhounds take a protective step in my direction before thinking better of it and remaining near its gate.

  Roughly, Asmodeus grabs my face in his hands, forcing me to sit straight and look him in his black eyes. “By now, I’m sure you’ve realized why you are here. I have to admit, my dear niece, when you tricked me with the mugglestone and saved that mortal bitch, Eve Collins, well”—he tilts his head and sighs in disappointment—“I was mostly pissed off. However, a small, teeny tiny part of me was proud at the evilness in your strategy.”

  I take in his lean, muscular body as I try to sit up straighter.

  His boots are firmly planted on the rug, their color matching his black leather pants. As always, he’s unbuttoned the top of his white button-down shirt and rolled his sleeves up to reveal all his ugly tattoos. He’s entertained at my state, his black irises alight with amusement. Slapping my bruising cheek with his hand a few times, he steps back.

  Looking me over, he tsks. “Always such a fighter.”

  Lifting his hand, he snaps his fingers, and two of his minions bring him a chair, placing it across from me. He spins it around and straddles it, sitting and holding my eyes. I kick out my feet to push him away, but he whispers an incantation and my legs become frozen.

  “Your emerald eyes remind me of the color of Lady Finella’s dress,” he whispers.

  My pride demands that I snap my eyes closed—deny him the privilege of enjoying the color. But I don’t. Instead, I stare at him, holding his gaze with mine. Lady Finella was his mate, but the queen of the fae realm was also a backstabbing bitch. His eyes settle on my wrist, studying the soul tie mark with a morbid, intense, strange fascination.

  “It is a deep sadness, you know, the loss of a mate,” he says sadly.

  Asmodeus licks his lips before tipping his chin at me. At his command, one of the demons steps forward and rips the tape from my mouth. I swallow my cry, because holy shit, that stings. More tears fill my eyes. I blink them away, not letting them fall.

  “Imagine the pain caused from losing two mates,” he states clearly.

  At the threat, blood surges through my veins and my temper rises.

  “Fuck you,” I spit out.

  Snarling, he gets into my face. “Don’t. Tempt. Me.”

  I try not to flinch. “I’m not Gage’s mate.”

  “I warned him.” He tilts his head, ignoring me. “Explained that sometimes, a queen must be sacrificed in order to gain a more favorable tactical position for victory. Do you remember, niece?” he whispers so quietly, it has the same effect as if he shouted it loudly.

  I lower my voice. “The reversal spell you and Eve agreed to won’t allow you to hurt me. Or Gage. Whatever it is you’re planning, it will come back to you. Tenfold.”

  “It isn’t me who is going to torture you until you beg for death.” There is a wicked edge to his sinister smile and tone. “My word to the mortal is, and will remain, intact.”

  “If not you, then who?” I ask out of a tight jaw.

  Mammon steps out of the darkness. “Me.”

  “Surprise,” Asmodeus whispers cruelly. “Daddy is here.”

  My father slowly rolls up his sleeves. I try not show any emotion, especially how truly terrified I am in this moment. The scythe on his forearm glares at me as he approaches.

  “This is your loophole?” I bark out a hard laugh.

  “I promised the mortal that it wouldn’t be me, or one of my minions, who touches a hair on your beautiful head.” He shrugs, as if bored. “My brother made no such promise.”

  My heart sinks. Eve should have known better than to make a deal with the devil.

  “Such a tragedy.” Mammon frowns at me. “That this has to be done the hard way.”

  “What does?”

  “The removal of the soul tie,” he replies.

  My mouth goes dry at his words and a hard lump forms in my throat.

  “You see, when I took my brother’s place that night at the Midnight Temple, I didn’t realize how deeply your love for Gage ran. I’d only noticed the scent of him on you. Given that you’re of demon blood, I assumed you two were just fucking one another.” I don’t react to his crassness. “Then again, by your actions, I’m guessing that’s what you wanted.”

  I remain silent, pressing my lips together.

  Mammon nods, my silence his confirmation. “Love young. So naïve.”

  “And if I don’t love him?” My voice is void of emotion.

  “The mark on your wrist suggests differently.” Everything inside me goes numb as understanding falls across me. “Besides, I noticed how he kept trying to protect you from me during our meeting. Gage’s actions are the reason I gave you the treaty’s location.”

  Asmodeus smirks at my silence. “But, then, dear niece, you already know all this. You were with Gage when he scurried back to Valfor, the demon who sealed the soul tie.”

  Mammon rolls his shoulders back. “Which is why we’re here now. You were supposed to learn of Gage’s betrayal and demand that Valfor revoke the tie out of absolute fury. Knowing that the gargoyle did it without your knowledge or consent. Yet”—his eyes slide to the mark—“it still stains your perfect wrist. Therefore, you’ve left us no choice.”

  “This mark on my wrist doesn’t prove I love him,” I say in a clear voice.

  “Perhaps.” Mammon shrugs, bored. “But removing it might prove his love for you.”

  Scoffing, I shake my head. “And why do you care if he loves me or not?”

  “His love for you is what’s going to ignite Valfor’s charm inside of you,” Asmodeus states, and my blood runs cold.

  Mammon squats so we’re at eye level. “You see, a soul tie link, unlike a mate bond, must be broken on both ends, not just one, for it to be terminated properly.”

  “Then your plan has a flaw,” I state.

  “Which is?”

  “Gage won’t break the tie.”

  The demon closest to Mammon hands him gloves, and he pulls them on as he speaks.

  “He’ll be so distraught with grief at losing a second love, and in the same way—”

  “Same way?” I cut him off using a hard tone.

  “First,” Mammon begins, wrapping a rubber tourniquet around my arm, tightening it. “We’re going to remove the mark from your wrist, using a scalpel. Do try not to bleed out. If you die, this is all pointless.”

  Another demon steps up with a silver case.

  Mammon snaps it open and pulls out a syringe and small bottle with clear liquid in it.r />
  “Then, we’re going to slit your throat and leave your lifeless body on Gage’s doorstep to find.” He presses the needle into the bottle, watching as it sucks in all the clear liquid. When it’s empty, he places the bottle back in the case and lifts the needle, tapping it as a small drop of liquid drips from the top. “Ironic, right? That he will think you’ve died, the same way that Camilla did.” He chuckles.

  A small, quiet exhale escapes me.

  “Gage will be so devastated by the fact that history repeated itself that he will all but run to Valfor, begging him to break the soul tie, because once again the darkness of lost love will encroach. And trust me, he won’t be able to suffer through it a second time.”

  Amsodeus grabs my arm and Mammon presses the needle into my vein. I hiss in a sharp breath as a cold sensation runs up my arm and through my veins. Once all the liquid is gone from the needle, Mammon pulls it out and stands. My vision becomes blurred and I become light-headed. My head suddenly lolls to the side and the blood from my nose continues to fall, dripping onto my lap. My body slumps, relaxed, as I blink slowly.

  “Only, you won’t be dead,” Mammon says, removing his gloves. “When Gage removes the soul tie, the divinity in your soul will die, and in its place, a dark soul will be reborn.”

  Asmodeus smirks. “You will be omnipotent, niece. And oh, so helpful to the cause.”

  “No,” I mumble, almost incoherently.

  Mammon drops a light kiss to the top of my head. “Once your dark power awakens, you will be the key we use to destroy the gargoyle race. It’s a shame so few will survive.”

  I try not to shake at the thought of what is going to happen once I pass out.

  Even so, I can’t stop my eyes from fluttering closed.

  And everything goes dark.

  The smell of blood has me painfully forcing my eyes open. It takes a great amount of effort, but I finally get them open. Only to realize I’m lying in a pool of my own blood. At the sheer amount, I dry heave, unable to move. It’s as if all the energy has been stolen from my body. Groggily, I look around, trying to speak, but the sounds I’m making are just gurgling bloody whimpers. My vision slips and I can feel my heart slowly giving out.

  My eyes slide closed for a few seconds before I force them open again and see the sealing stone cuffs, which are still on my wrists, covered in blood. My blood. That’s when I notice the skin on my wrist is missing where my soul tie mark was. It’s been cleanly cut away. At the sight, I want to cry out, but the approach of an unimaginably large black dog stops me. Submissively, it lays down next to me, curling against my side. Fevered, I think I hear its voice in my mind, telling me they’ve nailed the piece of skin with the mark to the door above me. Not fully with it, I laugh. I’m delirious. That’s what’s happening.

  I’m hallucinating before I die.

  Horrible chills grip me and I start to tremble uncontrollably. The dog keeps trying to keep me warm but I can’t stop shaking. My head falls forward and it whines, panicking.

  I’ve lost a lot of blood. It’s impossible to stay conscious. I lick my dry lips and close my eyes. I’m tired. So tired. Then I hear the dog’s voice again in my head. Don’t die.

  The last shreds of consciousness float through me just as I feel a strange, sticky wetness, followed by searing pain on my wounds. I try to focus, but the blackness has me drifting into the darkness, only to be pulled back for the tiniest moment when a small sliver of light reaches in and holds onto me.

  Somehow, I manage enough energy to get my eyes open the tiniest amount to see Gage’s door open, revealing a bright white light behind the shirtless, beautiful gargoyle.

  His broken, devastated expression is the last thing I see.

  27

  Reckless Pace

  GAGE

  My eyes snap open. Blinking, I take in the moon’s light shining through the window. Paralyzed, I’m unable to move. At the realization, the slow, bitter burn of panic seeps into me. A slight sting in my neck has me trying to touch the spot. After a few attempts, my arm moves. When it does, feeling returns to the rest of my body. I groan and sit up on the edge of the bed, reaching up to yank out a needle embedded in the side of my neck.

  “What the hell?” I study the needle.

  Looking around, I see I’m alone.

  And that is when the fear sets in.

  I stand and like a wild animal, I storm around the loft at a reckless pace, cursing.

  “Nassa!” I call out in pure desperation as I teleport in and out of rooms.

  Searching.

  For her.

  Dread takes over as I examine each and every room I own only to find them all dark, empty, and untouched by her. Losing control of my emotions, I rage through my loft like my fucking life depends on it. Because it does. After a while it truly hits me . . .

  She’s gone.

  Vanished.

  It all feels too fucking familiar.

  Spooked, I stand in my living room, pushing my hair back and linking my fingers behind my head. The memories of when I did this with Camilla flood back. It’s like history is repeating itself, all over again. The room starts to spin and my stomach bottoms out.

  Unable to stand, I fall to my knees and bury my head in my hands, gasping for air.

  With shaky hands, I grab my cell phone and call Asher.

  “Gallagher. It’s late.”

  “My whole fucking world is crashing down on me,” I barely get out.

  “The fuck?” he says hoarsely.

  “She’s gone.”

  Asher falls silent for a moment. “We’ll be right there.”

  I hang up and rub my hands over my face, growling loudly. After a bit, I manage to get my shit together, stand, and pace for what feels like a fucking lifetime. Needing something to do, I go behind the bar and grab a bottle of brandy, drinking it straight out of the bottle before the uncontrollable anger sets in and I throw it against the wall. The bottle shatters. The pieces fall to floor, spreading, followed by the amber liquid.

  “Gage.” Asher’s voice is calm.

  His calm demeanor just fuels my rage.

  I look at him, ready to get down on my knees and beg him, or anyone who will let me, for their help. I’ll do whatever it takes to get her back and destroy whoever took her.

  “What the hell is going on?” Asher looks around.

  “Nassa is gone,” I bite out.

  “She isn’t in your loft?” Keegan steps over the broken glass.

  “Does it look like she is, motherfucker?”

  “Hey, man. Easy,” Callan soothes, holding his palms up.

  “He’s right. Calm the fuck down, Gage,” Asher roars.

  I slam my palms onto the top of the bar and lean over it, growling like a fucking animal. “I don’t have time to calm the fuck down, Asher. I woke up and she was gone.”

  “Maybe she went for a walk. Or a drive. Or out for milk,” Callan suggests.

  I throw a hard glare his way. “Like Camilla did?”

  The three of them still. My words hit a nerve in them, as I had intended. Good. Milk? Idiot. I stand straight and throw the needle on the ground. It rolls over to Asher’s feet, hitting the top of his motorcycle boots before he bends down and picks it up.

  “The fuck is this?” he asks.

  “That is what was jammed into my neck this evening. It’s what Lady Finella gave to Eve to spike your goddamn drinks the night she escaped your protection and ran off to Domus Gurgulio and to the council. It’s a fairy sleeping potion that paralyzes you.”

  “Lady Finella is dead,” Keegan states. “Where did it come from?”

  “She’s dead. But Asmodeus isn’t.” Callan’s gaze meets mine.

  Ice runs through me. “Not yet he isn’t. Give me ten.” I head toward the door without a second thought, ready to rip his demon face off and end whatever existence he’s living.

  “Goddamn it, Gallagher. Wait up, we’re coming with you,” Asher calls after me.

  I yank th
e door and stop when I see Locryn standing there, naked.

  “This isn’t a good time,” I snarl, and move to step around him.

  With a palm to my chest, he stops me. “Nassa is at Demon Falls.”

  It takes all I have in me not to kill him on the spot so I can teleport and save her.

  “How do you know that?” Keegan asks behind me.

  Locryn’s terror-filled gaze meets mine. “My beta was guarding his gate when she arrived. Asmodeus has sealing stone cuffs on her wrists to prevent her from using magic.”

  Exhaling, I push my hands into my hair and rest them on top of my head.

  “Or healing herself,” he adds.

  “Healing herself?” I repeat. “Did he hurt her?”

  “He slapped her, hard. Her nose is bleeding severely,” Locryn whispers. “It was all my guy could do not to rip Asmodeus’s throat out, but he was shifted, therefore under compulsion.”

  “What the fuck are we standing around here for?” I shout. “Let’s go.”

  “If you storm in to save her, you’ll only trigger her death,” he says quickly.

  I close my eyes briefly, trying to pull myself together. To think logically.

  “Step aside and let him in, Gallagher,” Asher orders.

  With an annoyed exhale, I open my eyes and move, giving Locryn the space to walk into my loft. Annoyed, I turn and walk back into my home and slam the door behind me.

  Everyone stares, looking him over, and then they look at me, expectantly.

  “What?” I exhale.

  “He’s naked,” Asher replies.

  I motion toward the long hallway. “Second door all the way down on the left is the laundry. Isla, my housekeeper, just did a load. Grab whatever you need that’s clean.”

  Locryn dips his chin appreciatively and runs to grab clothes.

  Callan snorts next to me. “Friend of yours?”

  “He’s the prince of the hellhounds.”

  “He has a nice ass,” Callan compliments.

  Keegan slaps the back of his head. “For once in your life, think before you speak.”

  “What? It’s tight. And surprisingly hairless for a hellhound.”