wanted
all space between us eliminated. Simultaneously, I gravitated towards him and wanted to run away. Everything I thought I knew about love and hate was destroyed in a heartbeat. The two weren’t opposing feelings; they were symbiotic. And it was all because of
him.
That excited me as much as terrorized me. I jerked my jacket out of his grip. He let me. There was no other way I’d be free of him so quickly. That was when it hit me: he was in complete control of the situation, and I was merely reacting to him. It bothered me, a lot. My fingers itched for my dagger that was tucked in my waistband, but too many people were around to use it. My face would surely be plastered in the newspapers if I gave him a matching scar on his other cheek. Whoever gave him the first one surely had to be dead. He wasn’t the kind of person you wanted to piss off. As soon as that thought crossed my mind, he grinned.
Stop staring at his Goddamn smile and focus!
His expression softened to the point where he looked almost human. Almost. “If you’re not Emilie then who are you?”
“A nobody,” his date said, batting her fake eyelashes. When she couldn’t gain his attention by pulling him close to her, she stepped between us.
I seized the opportunity and backed away. I bumped into several of the people circling us. Still, I didn’t turn my back and run. Declan wasn’t a person I trusted to take my eyes off, at least not until there was more sidewalk real-estate between us. As soon as I felt safe enough to run, I did. Pride it outta there, I could still feel his eyes on my back. When I rounded the corner, I looked over my shoulder to take once last look. Our eyes locked. It was as if he knew that I was about to rob him blind.
Power-hungry men and women who’d sell their soul to make a buck gravitated to Las Vegas. It was a feeding ground for others like me: An Incubus. I was a demon with a sweet-tooth for greed. A vampire of sorts who fed off of humans, but instead of drinking blood for substance, I consumed their life’s essence. Their essence extended mine, resulting in my immortality, but it came at a steep price. Because I breathed in the vilest parts—greed, gluttony, covetousness—their moral faults became my own. I took their evilness, and in return it corrupted my soul. I hate who’d I’d become.
These moral imperfections became so engrained in me that I could smell it on them. What was worse than becoming a heinous Incubus was the hunger burning within my soul could never be fucking satisfied! I’d kill to be free of the curse! I couldn’t rest with this festering appetite, especially with what still lay in my bed beside me…but they wouldn’t survive me stealing any more of their essence.
In front of the master bedroom’s windows, I pounded a suspended boxing bag and tried not to stare through the glass. I continued to find myself searching for the girl with the mesmerizing glare rather than taking out my aggression on the bag.
Frustrated, I slammed my fist into the bag. Piper was so fucking close! I could count the freckles dusted on her nose. My hands were literally on her, and yet I released her. I had to. There were too many people around, and her trust hadn’t matured to its full capacity yet. It’d be further along if Trevis hadn’t cleaned it out before skipping town. Again. He took a page from Emilie’s book and faked his death—fleeing the country with his lover. Not that I blamed him. There wasn’t enough money in the world to stay with Emilie, but it didn’t matter. My agreement with Emilie clearly stated that he must simply return to her. She said nothing about him being a permanent fixture in her life. He simply had to return. And he took the million-dollar bait to do so. So, at that moment, the offspring of the vilest women I knew was mine. But not even I could leave the girl penniless—not after I did what I intended to do. The final stages of my plan were nearly complete. I’d been patient this long. I could wait until she turned of age.
Glancing over my shoulder, I wiped the sweat from my brow. “One more…just one more damn hit, that’s all I need.”
My dates lay—barely breathing—on top of the bed sheets, covered with hundred dollar bills. Nothing could pacify the greed that consumed me, not even the two gold diggers. I was shamelessly addicted to them. On a daily basis, it was everything I could do to watch them pass by without touching, without taking their gluttonous essence, but these two…these two were begging to be taken, and I didn’t have to remove a shred of clothing to do so.
Clutched between their hands were wads of cash. I brought them to the brink of death with smiles on their faces. They’d wake sometime tomorrow—well, one would at least. It wouldn’t be long before the one who licked my face crossed over.
After peeling off the tape around my knuckles, I plucked my phone from the nightstand and dialed my right hand man. Jameson didn’t bother keeping his disdain for me a secret, but I owned his ass, so his opinion of me didn’t matter. Besides, I needed an errand boy.
The call started but he didn’t bother with a greeting. “Captain Jameson, how are you doing this fine evening?”
“I swear if you’re calling me to take care of another body—”
“Maybe two.” One digger’s chest still rose and fell without waver. The other? Not so much. Without thinking, I moved closer to them. Her breaths were hypnotizing. I could practically smell her scent. She would be strong enough to withstand another—
“Listen to me!” Jameson yelled. “Wherever you are, get the hell out. I’ll send a unit to clean up your mess.”
“Have them come to my usual room at the Mirage.” I ended the call and backed away from the bed. I was still desperate for another…just one more voracious gold digger.
If I could find one at this hour in the morning, it’d be in this glorious city. Grabbing my room key and wallet, I left the room to go on the hunt. I made it as far as the elevator doors before I noticed one big, fucking problem.
My platinum card was out of place.
I turned back around and strode into the hotel bedroom. These two-bit whores were trying to play me—me? Several thousand dollars decorated the oversized bed, yet that wasn’t enough for them! They wanted more. They wanted to clean me out. That sure as shit wasn’t going to fly!
Pissed off, I grabbed a handful of blonde hair and pressed my lips against hers. I breathed in her greediness, I stole her life’s essence. I didn’t stop until I pried the cash out of her cold dead hands.
***
While Jameson’s men bagged the lifeless bodies, I logged onto my online accounts. I had a pending charge from the Bellagio. I gave the card a sniff. It smelled like her. My rage erupted. Piper had stolen from me, not the no-dead gold diggers.
The body count wasn’t over just yet.
I’d died and gone to heaven—heaven being Room 901 at the Bellagio. The penthouse suite was Stilts usual; at least that was what the receptionist said when I checked in earlier that night. A stranger had loaned me their phone, and I booked a room using Declan’s credit card information. Thirteen hundred square feet of luxury and all I cared about was a warm bed—that was my haven. I could care less about the chromed-out décor or the glam…although I had spent a fair amount of time taking a hot shower in the elaborate bathroom. I smelled like a freaking dumpster and was happy to rid myself of that stench.
After scrubbing off the grime from the city’s streets, I slipped between the cool sheets of a king-size bed. I didn’t bother to put on any clothes. I’d lived in those filthy clothes for months, and even though I’d had the hotel launder them, the softness of a made-bed wasn’t a luxury I wanted to pass up. It’d been far too long since I could lay down, close my eyes and feel safe without having to arm myself with Trusty Rusty. I placed the dagger beside my pillow and cuddled up to Egyptian cotton instead of the cold metal.
The soft glow of the city shined through the hotel curtains, illuminating the bedroom. The noise from the traffic was barely audible. The subtle honks were a reminder that I was just a stolen credit card away from watching the sun rise through a crack in my card board penthouse instead of through floor-to-ceiling balcony windows. I lay a
wake in a bed that had to cost a small fortune; it was just another “thing” that could be snatched away in a heartbeat. Possessions. Property. They were just temporary. Nothing lasted forever.
Not even love.
Unconditional love was an urban legend, a myth, a freaking fairy tale. It was a notion that parents whispered to their children before they ran off with their mistresses because they couldn’t stand to share a bed with the person they married. Such was life. I wasn’t meant to have a fairy tale kind of love. To be fair, I wasn’t a goodie-two-shoes princess either. So to expect prince-charming to rescue me from my jacked-up life was laughable. That’s all I could do. Laugh. To feel sorry for myself would only throw me into a self-induced emotional pit of doom. Besides, those who played the pity card wouldn’t last one night on the streets of Vegas. I wanted to live on my own terms, even if they only got me as far as the homeless shelter or a stolen hotel room.
After I finally nodded off for what felt like hours, the click of a door key jarred me awake. Panicking, I scrambled for the dagger that was hidden between the bed sheets. I cut my hand finding it. Tangled up in one-hundred percent Egyptian cotton, I leapt for my clothes on the dresser, but it was the announcement of the police that stopped me dead in my tracks.
Words completely escaped me when he strolled into the room. Declan Stilts, accompanied by Vegas’ finest boys in blue. So I did the only thing I could think of—look death in the face and smile.
Her rapid-fire smirk was subtle—a brief grin that melted into a poker face—was the first thing I noticed about Piper. Most people would’ve taken note of her sheet for a dress, but it was her mouth that first caught my attention. Dimples. She had these perfect fucking dimples…Even as she stood, draped in a sheet, with the police busting down the door, she had the audacity to smirk!
This girl with dull brown hair, this girl who had the palest pink lips I’d ever seen—Piper was an idiot if she thought I was just another push-over businessman. She was about to get schooled. Then she flashed those dimples at me and all thought vanished. Absence of thought was un-fucking-usual.
I hesitated to enter the room. I never hesitated, especially when it came to women and money. Piper was no different, I reminded myself. She screwed me over and thought nothing of it! That fed into my anger, which actually made me feel more like myself. Even so, knowing I’d get the last laugh kept me focused. I showcased my rage with a cunning smile of my own.
And the little twit returned my grin with a raised brow.
She pointed the dagger at us. Defiant shit she was, even when the police tackled her to the ground for threatening them with a weapon.
I cocked my head to the side, calculating Piper’s expression and body language, taking note of her hand injury—Goddamn it! Jameson’s officers were carelessly tearing open her cut, damaging what was mine! I did my best to silence the rage brewing inside me and think straight. Con artists: I never cared about them with any importance. Piper was no exception, I reminded myself again. She had a one purpose—a means to an end. But after the police officers pinned her to the floor, she glared at me like
I
purposely interrupted her beauty sleep for no good reason. Her defiance was attractive on an ethereal level. Fuck, she was a knock-out when she pouted like she wanted me to do something about it. But the most damning thing was that she had what I
craved
more than anything in the world: Freedom. What was the point of immortality if you were a slave to your hunger? And she knew it. I could see it in her deep blue eyes. Damn, could they be any more vibrant? The intellect burning in them intrigued me. Her sassy defiance beckoned me closer to
her.
My heart jolted when she winced after an officer tore her gash open further. I fought the urge to rub my chest. Centuries had passed since any such feeling rattled my ribcage. Figurative and literally. Three hundred and forty-eight years since my heart skipped a beat. My heart pounded against my ribs every time I kissed my beloved Sophia; and then she stabbed me in the chest with that forsaken dagger.
I hated Sophia for it.
Since then, I’d carried the Incubus curse just as I carried the dagger—well, that was until I gave it to Emilie as a “reminder” that I’d claim what was mine. The truth was that I didn’t trust that woman farther than I could see her. Since I was tied to that metallic shard by the curse, I could sense who carried it. For years, I’d been secretly keeping tabs on Piper and her deadbeat of a mother.
The girl with a perfect set of dimples would be my freedom. I’d be damned if I let our obvious attraction for each other screw that up.
I was so screwed.
Like upside-down, backwards, doggy-style screwed. To make matters worse, blood dripped down my hand, staining the expensive sheets with my liquid DNA. I was literally caught red-handed. The irony wasn’t lost on me. I’d robbed a man who’d made a freaking living from cheating the system. I should have known it’d take him a hot second to find me. I was so going to jail.
At least that’s what I deduced after the two officers charged me. I guess I looked dangerous enough to alarm the police. Body-slammed onto wood floors would’ve sucked less if I had clothes on.
Like any.
At least the sheet covered the important parts. But as I said earlier, I was still totally screwed—at least that was what it felt like. A bad one-night stand that ended with handcuffs slapped around my wrists while some middle-aged guy straddled me; I wished it was a kinky hook-up.
Even so, the floor burn wasn’t the worst of it. I could take the physical sting; it was the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach that unnerved me when I looked into Declan’s emerald eyes. He hadn't moved from his position by the door. Combine his ominous stare and clenched jaw with his dark jeans and a long-sleeved grey shirt; he leaned against the wall like he was posing for a MMA photo shoot. He did imposing well. Very well.
The more time passed, the more I understood the inner rage he possessed. To say he was upset with me was the understatement of a lifetime. I’d never seen a man so furious, yet barely moved a muscle—barely breathed. His chest didn’t rise or fall. Being in his presence undid me; I physically and mentally reacted to him. I wanted—needed—to know what he was thinking. I held my breath, waiting for him to react. When that didn’t work, I did the subtlest thing I could think of: smirk.
His gaze dropped to my lips. His eyes narrowed. His knuckles turned white. Oh, I’d gotten under his skin, and I’d barely done anything. Well, other than steal his credit card digits. But if I had to guess, my smile ticked him off more.
One of the officers rattled off my rights while the other pulled me up, bringing the sheets up with me. I expected Declan's gaze to fall when the corner of the sheet slipped. I wasn't mistaken. But his gaze only dropped as far as my lips. Again. This time I grinned, but it wasn’t because I was taunting him. It was…oh hell, I didn’t know—I enjoyed seeing him on edge.
“Gentlemen, leave us,” Declan commanded.
Neither moved. They were unsure who should be calling the shots. Declan slammed his fist against the wall. My jaw dropped. The sheer amount of force carried with that punch…I didn’t want to be on the other side of that fist. The rage he carried was evident in his rigid posture.
“Leave. Us. Now,” Declan ordered.
The deepness of his voice sent pin-pricks through my body. I trembled. The last thing I wanted was to be alone—practically naked—with him.
My preferred exit strategy was to be escorted out by these two men in blue. “I’m going with you two.”
Declan tore his obsessive gaze off of me to give the officers a dose of his potent stare. “No, she’s not. Tell Captain Jameson that I am not going to press charges...yet. I’m sure this simple misunderstanding between me and this young lady will sort itself out.”
One officer placed my dagger on the night stand before leaving. That made me more nervous than anything. Leaving a weapon in the room meant they didn’t trust Stilts any mo
re than I did. My chances of walking out of the room alive plummeted when Declan locked the door behind them.
“I own the law,” he whispered like I was his ex-lover—sexy with a hint of condescending undertones. His possessive gaze petrified me, but it was the curiosity brimming in his eyes that made it impossible to look away. “And I own you, Piper.”
He knew my name?
I asked, “So acting like you didn’t know me was—”
“—a formality,” I acknowledged blatantly. That I knew her name made Piper extremely uncomfortable. Good. “You seemed like you didn’t want to be found, hiding on the streets when you come from money. Exposing you obviously wasn’t what you wanted.”
“So you respect my privacy, is that it, Declan?” She spoke my name like it was a curse word.
If she only knew how cursed I was.
“What do you want, Declan? Payback? Are you so strapped for cash that you personally investigate every thief?”
“I assure you that my concerns lie much deeper than a penthouse charge, Piper.”
My confession stopped me cold. The cold-hard truth rarely slipped from my lips and in no time at all, this girl had coaxed it out of me. I rubbed my chest wishing that the burning sensation would suppress. The untamable desire that I usually associated with the Incubus curse hit me whenever I laid eyes on her.
Staring at me with much consideration, she whistled. It was six, short high-pitched sounds. The brief tune was incredibly alluring for being so brief; it was almost as captivating as those dimples.
“You like music,” I said more than asked.
Who doesn’t? “Stop with the creeper attitude already! You don’t know me, and you don’t scare me!” she sneered.
Priceless (Once Wicked #1) Page 2