The Soul Collector (previously released as Angel's Fire, Demon's Blood)

by Tamela Quijas

  ….ah, shit!

  Lucien ignored Reese's muttered profanity.

  “Humans don’t crave my touch.”

  “I'm not just any human, am I?” She questioned with a breathless intensity, and he felt the heat from her radiate outwards on the fingers of an opalescent glow.

  “No,” he responded, endeavoring to control his unsteady voice, and growing more confused by the moment.

  “You're a liar,” she whispered.

  “I'm not the daemon liar!” He snarled heatedly and she boldly granted him an indulgent smile. The action was nothing more than a slight twitch of her lips, and shook him to the core.

  “I didn't say you were. I simply suggested you had surrendered to a human frailty, a lie.”

  ….Evangeline!

  She ignored the softly warning voice. She moved to the table's edge, nearly unsettling it. Her face became a distorted blur to Lucien's dazed eyes and, for the first time in nearly an eternity, he couldn’t focus.

  “When was the last time you were touched?” She persisted in the most tempting tones.

  “It was you,” Lucien knew she didn't need an answer. She already knew the truth. “You were the last person.”

  “Twenty years ago, Lucien?” Eva questioned, aware of the low hissing sound rising from the spirit behind her. “It’s been two decades since you last experienced human touch?”

  A gnawing ache throbbed in his chest. His fingertips continued to stroke the offending region, a pained wince contorting his face, and he lifted shadowed eyes. A shimmering light flowed about their seated forms, immersing them in a blending of incandescent whites and violets.

  “Angel's fire,” she mused, her eyes twinkling. “Angels are cold and distant. Fire is another matter, entirely. If I'm your purposed angel's fire, then….”

  “I…” Lucien couldn’t think and quivered as she lifted her hand.

  “Do you dare me?”

  Any words he may have chosen froze in his throat. He focused on her hand, staring at the soft lines marking her palms, which revealed the supposed tales of her life and loves. Under the shadow of his lashes, he detected the minute impressions of fingerprints and the coursing blood pulsating throughout the blue tinted veins of her wrist.

  ….don't dance with the devil, Evie!

  Lucien closed his eyes in mute resignation, the words whispering about the room. Reese's meaning was the truth, for he was the epitome of the devil's son. Evangeline did the unimaginable and risked her life to be in such close contact with him.

  Without looking, he knew her hand remained before his face, the fingers twitching.

  “I'm not the daemon….”

  Whatever he had been about to say froze as her fingertips grazed his jaw. Her skin quivered against his, softness against hardness, warmth against iciness. Abruptly, Lucien’s tense body jerked, every nerve feeling dipped into a vat of boiling water. A flurry of long forgotten emotions rose from within, rocking him to the core, and shaking the accustomed cold.

  A loud rush of deafening sounds filled his attentive ears, heated blood beginning to course with wild abandon through barren vessels. He felt afire, pulsating, and throbbing with unaccustomed waves of life. His breath caught, aching in his chest before being expelled. One moment he was hot, the next he was shivering, his body engulfed in a feverish sweat.

  “You feel like ice.”

  Astonished, her fingers trailed over his jaw. The sensitive tips rested on the high cheekbones, quivering on the rapidly ebbing iciness before moving to the corner of his eye. She lingered, his pale lashes falling as he closed his eyes. Beneath her sensitive touch, warmth coursed through his veins, the trembling pulse of his heart suddenly obvious.

  “I'm a shell,” Lucien murmured unsteadily, slowly opening his eyes, unable to focus on her bright image. Barely able to speak, his words sounded distant. “I'm not worthy of life.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  Eva threaded her fingers through his closely cropped hair, and he felt a pleasurable sigh escape. He was silent as she perused his rigid features, bewildered at the sudden rush of bright color.

  ….you're not meant to touch him, don't touch!

  “He won't harm me, Reese.” Eva assured the spectral image. She didn't move her attention from Lucien, the whisper of her breath catching.

  ….not wise, Evie

  “When have I ever done anything wise?” She quipped with forced lightness, her fingers grazing Lucien's ear lobe. He trembled beneath her touch, the expression on his flushed face rapturous. Feminine power was a heady pleasure, and she took delight in the influence she held over this particular person.

  ….you don't understand, little sister

  “What is there to understand?'

  ….playing with fire

  “Maybe I am, Reese.” She admitted. “Then, maybe, I’m showing him something new.”

  …why?

  She colored hotly, and didn’t answer. She didn’t feel her brother needed to know about her feelings toward Lucien D’Angel, or the restless ache that drove her.

  ….he's still a man

  “Tell Reese to leave.” Lucien commanded in a strangely gravelly voice, an ecstatic tremor flooding him. He inhaled, savoring the tastes and scents filling his lungs. There was a rush of long forgotten emotions, and he ached with a need long absent from his life.

  “You heard him, big brother.” Eva’s fingers trailed to the wildly pounding pulse hammering in the side of Lucien's neck, and an answering ache throb deep within her. “I want you to go away!”

  ….Evie

  “I'm not seven years old, any more.”

  A sudden blast of freezing air filled the room. Sudden warmth filled the apartment and Eva sighed contentedly. Heat and silence surrounded her, filled with only the throbbing of her heart in tune with Lucien’s frantic beat, and the sound of their breathing.

  “Showoff.” Lucien grumbled at Reese's departure.

  “He enjoys the power.” She whispered conspiratorially, her caressing fingers wreaking havoc on his unsettled nerves.

  “What did your brother say?”

  “Why?” She questioned innocently, her other hand lifting to cradle his cheek. He was silent, his eyes closed, inhaling the scent of her skin deep into his aching lungs.

  "I can't…."

  Suddenly, Eva laughed, understanding what he couldn't put into words.

  “When I touch you, you can’t see or hear the ghosts!”

  He looked at her with nearly blind eyes, the glow radiating from her reflected in his steel gray orbs. The palm of her hand remained pressed against his cheek, offering a warmth and comfort he readily accepted.

  “Evangeline, with your touch, I become what I'm not.” He admitted reluctantly, his words hot as they whispered across the delicate skin of her wrist. “I'm only a man.”

  “When I'm near you, when you have your power, I'm almost unable to breathe or think.” She made the confession with sudden and dawning comprehension. “But, when I touch you, you suffer what I feel.”

  “Yes.” He struggled to admit as she continued to run her fingers over his tingling flesh.

  “I thought you were nothing more than a shell?”

  “Your touch….” He couldn't think.

  “It's been three hundred and ninety plus years since you’ve been touched?” She continued to place her hands over his face, her breath caressing his painfully heated flesh. “My poor, dear Lucien.”

  His senses reeled and he ached in regions long forgotten. He growled deep in his throat and his eyes flew wide as he reached for her, his hands shaking with need.

  “I'm only a man!” He repeated and gripped the tender flesh of her arms, dragging her closer. “I…. am... only...”

  He didn’t finish speaking, the words halting when Eva performed the single action he’d only imagined. Temptingly, she captured his mouth with her soft lips, and fire shot through him at the surprising contact. A low and tormented groan slipped from him before he succumb
ed to the tantalizing softness. Languorously, he returned the gentleness of her kiss, his breath aching in his lungs.

  She pressed closer, nearly tumbling into him. Her quivering hands steadied her near fall, moving from his face and resting on his shoulders. She gasped against his mouth, the sudden heat of his breath fanning her sensitive flesh.

  “Please kiss me.” Eva pleaded, her words revealing the ache expanding within her. He released his painful grip on her arms, and cupped her face in his hands. He stared deep into the glowing depths of her eyes and slowly, deliberately, he complied.

  She was breathless from the gentle onslaught of his lips. He flexed hungrily forward, lured by the unspoken promise in her seductive touch, while a highly inflamed groan erupted from his chest. He shuddered and pulsated with a rush of unfulfilled need, his loins surging with unrepentant longing. Every throbbing nerve trembled with her nearness, and an unrestrained quiver jarred him as the kiss deepened, seeming to draw the essence of her soul into him.

  “I'm only a man.” He repeated the words in softly tortured tones. Eva's lashes fluttered and a low moan slipped from her as his lips caressed her cheek. Her body arched and she curved into his heated flesh, craving more.

  Hoarsely, he murmured her name, his breath stirring wispy fine tendrils of hair. His ragged breath escaped in a shaky gasp and he pressed his forehead to hers, savoring the feel of her trembling body. His composure crumbled and an intensely throaty growl tore from the suffering depths of his anguished soul, shaking her.

  “You are temptation, Star Light.” He whispered in a disconcerted and strangled tone. Lucien's breath escaped him from flared nostrils, each gasp appearing a struggle of valiant control, and his gloved hands dropped to the tantalizing curve of her waist.

  Eva's vision was flooded with his brilliant image, her heartbeat soaring to unimaginable heights. She attempted to absorb every detail, the texture of his lightly flushed skin, the hardened length of lean muscle, and the hint of soft words. Her quivering fingertips trailed over a furiously pounding pulse in the side of his throat, pausing as she felt his ever-quickening reaction.

  Entranced, aware of her yearning, she was inundated with emotion. He appealed to her darker sense, and a part of her id demanded appeasement. In the depths of her heart, which was so very much alive at this moment, she wanted Lucien. She didn't want to be the method in which he would seek his end. Her body arched into his with hunger, molding more to the hardened contours evident beneath the thickness of his dark sweater.

  “Evangeline,” he ground out, and then halted. Whatever he had been about to say stuck in his throat as her fingertips traced his mouth, pausing to linger on his lower lip.

  Lucien's gaze darkened, although not with the senses he had been gifted. Instead, the ebony color of his pupils enlarged, nearly encompassing the slate colored iris. He pulsated with highly aroused blood, sending his usually calm thoughts reeling into a spiraling dive of want and hunger. Eva clutched at his shoulders, urging him closer, as if she meant to meld into him.

  “Do you need me, Lucien?”

  She felt the alarming beat of his heart beneath her hand and the quivering gasps forced from his lungs. She was stunned as the heated fullness of his lips brushed her eager mouth, seeming to perform a wicked dance. Once again, her mouth parted, relishing the tantalizing warmth he tentatively offered.

  Her starved senses detected the fragrance of long forgotten summer nights and sweet clover scented fields, mingled with a heady masculine aroma. He savagely deepened the pressure of his kiss until she became breathless, cajoling her to respond to him with equal measure.

  Eva pulled her head back, wantonly relishing the sound of his disappointment before she sought to recapture the proffered warmth. She felt awash with absolute power and need as she brushed her lower lip over his parted mouth.

  He trembled beneath her touch, and a muffled laugh escaped her. She captured the firm moistness of his lower lip between her teeth and drew him nearer with unvocalized need. She strained against him, and returned the hungry pressure, the experimental tip of her tongue darting across the texture of his lips.

  Lost in his touch, her resolve weakened with the mind numbing wonder of his mouth. Eva felt on fire, her body flushed with heat and her heart pounding loudly as the breath threatened to explode from her aching lungs.

  “You can't truly wish to die, Lucien.” She whispered throatily, her words sending tantalizing shivers across his skin.

  He set her away. The living room walls rippled and buckled and she blinked repeatedly. She decided it was simpler to focus on the man who had left her lips deliciously swollen with the onslaught of his mouth.

  “There’s nothing I want more than to leave this world, Evangeline. I’ve grown weary of the deeds to which I’ve borne silent witness. I know, as per the words of the prophecy of St. Lorraine, I can't risk Julian stealing you from me.”

  “Lucien,” she began, whetting her lips with the tip of her tongue.

  “I can't let him take you.” His words radiated with an undeniable firmness as he struggled to regain his shattered composure. “I won’t allow my brother to steal your essence, or destroy your foretold radiance.”

  Lucien didn't need to speak for her to understand his thoughts were deep and dire, echoing of the one subject he feared above all else in the world.

  Julian.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Beware of the demons walking the streets

  The lengthy tree-lined avenue, located just outside the ultra modern apartment building, glowed brightly beneath the incandescent glow of towering streetlights. There was the faintest trace of the wind in the night, an airy gust sending a flurry of dry leaves across the pavement. Late fall was evident, causing many to shiver beneath their heavy coats as they sought the shelter of their homes.

  A lone figure didn't appear concerned with the chill that nipped at noses and fingertips. He paused and watched the last signs of fall lift on the gentle fingers of the night air. He smiled crookedly as the leaves, butterscotch and faded amber, floated on unseen hands before rising and slipping away.

  He blinked, attempting to moisten his dry eyes, and turned on the worn edge of his heel. Before him was the elaborate facade of a modern apartment complex. The edifice was upscale and elite, evident by the shining brass and chrome details. He scowled, expecting no less of the other he sought.

  Through the great glass doors, the burly security guard cradled a cell phone close to his ear. The sturdy features of the man filled with mirth as he spoke and Julian ground his teeth together. His eyes narrowed and he focused on the figure located beyond the spotless glass. A tenacious smile tugged at his lips while he watched the hulking figure tremble, an inexplicable iciness settled over the foyer of the complex.

  Turning, he stared across the street, his amusement vanishing. He remained where he was, lingering outside the building, his head lifted to the streetlights. His jaw tightened and his eyes darkened to the color of coal while he inhaled at the air. He inhaled again, letting a breath roll over his tongue before gnashing yellowed teeth.

  He smirked and pulled the tattered remnants of his coat closer. His bitter smile increased to a leering grin that contorted his wizened features before he proceeded down the semi-deserted thoroughfare.

  As he walked, the bulbs in the street lamps flickered seconds before they lost power.

  Soon, the path behind him disappeared in darkness.

  Julian stopped, staring at the glowing city's lights stretched before him. He tossed his lank hair over his shoulders, and lifted his chin high while he perused the stars shimmering above. Sluggishly, he inhaled the breeze once again and closed his eyes, his tongue flicking over roughened lips. His heinous smile broadened as he caught the familiar scent, a fragrance he recognized as well as his own.

  Lucien had been derelict in his studies, he mused bitterly. The aroma of his brother's flesh lingered in the wind, illuminating a trail he would follow.

  “What a foolish
waste of a soul.” He allowed himself a feral snarl as he whispered the words. The coal colored darkness of his orbs scanned the streets, alighting on the smoky images that appeared. His vision darkened further and he focused on sepia forms, his features appearing nearly eyeless as he detected the vicious rustling of low toned whispers.

  ….daemon's blood

  His smile broadened at the whispered words lingered. He drew his shoulders back, clutching the frayed lapels with twisted fingers, as if he were regally righting royal robes. The lines of his face creased deeper and he graced the misty figures with an imperious glare.

  It was just as well the spirits of the dead knew who walked among them this very eve. He was the rightful heir of St. Lorraine, the crown prince who had yet to claim his thrown. Julian was well aware of his identity and the hushed accusations and, in truth, savored the extent of his power. He reeled about on his heel, his arms flying wide and successfully scattering the smoky images to the wind.

  “Heed this warning, dear people, and ghosts of yore. Lock your windows and bar your doors!” He began in an eerie and peculiarly singsong voice, reciting the hushed words of warning echoing through his father's land many centuries ago. “Beware, for the Daemon of St. Lorraine wanders your thoroughfares this night!”

  Julian's long gaited stride increased, each step bearing more of a resemblance to a lop-sided skip. He chuckled, the sound akin the crunch of dry leaves beneath booted feet, as his words lifted in the chill night air.

  “Run, Lucien, run.” He chanted in a low baritone hearkening back to the forgotten days in his youth. “Run, dear little brother, for the demon of St. Lorraine is seeking your soul!”

  �CHAPTER TEN

  Beware of angels granting life

  Under the fringe of her lashes, Eva looked at the man who stood before the large windows of the conference room in Miami, Florida hotel. The gentleness of the ocean breeze moved the large palm fronds in a delicate dance in the blueness of the afternoon sky. The sun was brilliant, flooding the room with a bright and radiantly warm amount of light.

  Normally, a person would've moved, seeking the comfort of the air-conditioned interior. Lucien chose to remain, the heat bathing him in warmth. He stood in sharp relief against the shimmering glass and his attire seemed darker than before, more identifiable than if he would've been a shadow of some forbidden entity.