“But of course.” The hint of a flame ignited behind Sam’s irises. “There will be lots of conditions.”
“Will those conditions include Razuel and his lot?” Daghony tossed out.
“They have none of Braile’s grace. So, no. They will not.” Sam grounded out, menace in each word.
The tension in the room ebbed. The UnHallowed were all on the same page. For now.
“Well, it looks like we’re an army now.” Bane headed to the bar.
“You were always an army,” Dina said. “Unwanted and unclaimed to all but yourselves.” She and Gideon joined Bane. The poker game resumed.
Kush stepped toward the shadow. He’d had enough bonding for the night.
Sam cleared his throat. “There is one other thing I need to bring to your attention.”
“I knew it! I fucking knew. Duck, ‘cause here comes the other pile of shit we’re supposed to munch on.” Riél made a circular wave with his hand at Sam for him to spit it out.
“There is an angel named Gemma who is trapped in Hell that I promised to help free.”
Dina buckled, her glass of whatever shattered when it hit the floor. If it weren’t for Gideon, she would’ve crashed too. “Dear Father in Heaven. No!” She latched onto Gideon as he brought her in tight to his body. “She must’ve crossed over when we did and got stuck. Oh Father, we left her. Gideon! We left her to rot in Hell.”
Gideon paled even as he shook his head. “We didn’t know. How could we have known?”
“We have to get her out. Whatever the cost. Whatever we have to do, Gemma must be freed!” Dina cried.
“Another point to negotiate. Actually, a pretty sweet bargaining chip to get everything we want.” Rimmon shrugged and picked imaginary lint from his suit sleeve.
“Gemma’s not a bargaining chip.” Voice tight, Dina glared daggers at Rimmon.
“Fine.” Rimmon huffed without an ounce of sincerity.
Kush didn’t need grace to see where the argument was headed. He’d get the play by play from Riél later.
Dina snarled something low. Gideon grabbed her arm. She yanked away and—
The door to the upstairs opened. “They’re down here, dear,” Ellen said and the clack, clack, clack of shoes sounded on the stairs.
Sophie jumped up from the sofa. “Mom? Who are you talking to?” She weaved between the UnHallowed and rushed to the stairs.
“A friend,” Ellen said. Another set of footsteps joined Ellen’s. Sophie’s mother handled the truth about Chay and the rest of them with an I always knew it attitude. She’d been sworn to secrecy and threatened with a mind sweep.
With the entire house warded, including the individual rooms, peering through the structure to see their unwanted guest wasn’t possible. Eleven UnHallowed and Dina armed themselves.
Ellen came into view first. “Hey, guys.” Then she glanced behind her. “It’s okay.” She finished her trek down the stairs, paused on the landing, and whispered to the UnHallowed. “Put the weapons away.” Then she turned back to the unwanted guest. “They don’t bite.”
“Speak for yourself,” Zed mumbled as Chay swept in and snatched Sophie and her mother to the rear of the room.
The footsteps paused, then continued at a steady pace. Closest to the stairs, Kush edged nearer, his sword ready.
He saw the black, patent leather six-inch heels first, then ankles, and a smooth expanse of skin. Slowly, an incredible pair of shapely legs came into view. Riél whistled low and long, and said in a husky voice, “That better not be a demon. Please don’t let that be a demon.”
Kush went ramrod straight. All his senses locked onto the female taking her own sweet time coming into view. Legs disappeared beneath a knee-length skirt molded to well-formed thighs. His gaze continued up, discovering it wasn’t a skirt, but a dress wrapped around a flat stomach and generous breasts. A belted bow at her left hip made it seem like a present waiting to be unwrapped.
Kush had to drag his gaze away from the temptation to unwrap his gift and continue up a sleek neck, a pointed chin, a luscious pair of lips, nostrils that flared as if scenting something, to finally latch onto a pair of sapphire eyes he could never forget.
Those sapphire eyes narrowed on him and she rushed down the rest of the stairs. She didn’t stop until she reached Kush. She faced him, her face flushed, her wavy auburn hair bone straight to the middle of her back, her jeweled gaze roamed his face as Amaya raced over in a panic. “Pilar! What are you doing here?”
Pilar didn’t spare her best friend a single glance. She pointed a polished nail at Kush and poked the center of his chest hard enough to draw blood.
“You!” she hissed. “That little mind melding, brainwashing bullshit you tried didn’t work. I know what you are, Kushiél. You’re an angel.” Without an ounce of fear, her gaze snapped to the armed UnHallowed around her. “And I’m guessing so are the rest of you.”
Epilogue
Naked, Gemma lay. Her limbs splayed. Her body overstimulated, hypersensitive. A fine sheen of sweat clung to her skin, making her aware of the subtle breeze stirring the air, keeping her nipples puckered, her bare mons aroused. How could it not be when pleasure was weaponized. Until it wasn’t pleasure anymore. He stopped then, whatever torture he inflicted on her, he stopped when tears fell from her eyes. Tears!
And she was grateful. Actually, sobbed out a thank you that he ceased the continuous assault. Orgasm after orgasm, her body was one raw nerve ending.
She shouldn’t have thanked him. Thanking him encouraged him to give her a reprieve. Like she was human and needed a break.
But not to stop.
Because she wasn’t human, and she wouldn’t break.
Warriors didn’t break. They killed.
Her limbs were heavy or weighted, which she couldn’t tell. She strained to move them and couldn’t. What power was this to make her, a Captain in the Celestial Army, so vulnerable?
A power greater than any she’d ever faced. The power of a Demoni Lord.
Despair, an emotion she’d not had any experience with, had become an intimate friend. A friend she commiserated with as much as she railed against.
Today, they were not friends, because for the first time, she sensed she was alone. Finally. Blessedly. Alone. After what? A year? A decade? A week? How long had she been at his mercy? Too long. Had the Celestial Order searched for her? Did they even know she was missing? Or was she forgotten?
The answer to all her questions…a brutal no, no, and yes.
There would be no rescue.
She was on her own.
Gemma shifted on the cool sheets. Sensations bombarded her, building, licking at her overwrought nervous system, cutting through rational thought. An orgasm rippled through her loins, sweet, intense. Breathless, she rode the tide, alternating between ecstasy and anguish. He’d done this to her without touching a single hair on her body. He’d left her in this perpetual state, where every movement caused this excruciating pleasure bordering on pain. Or was it pain bordering on pleasure?
She could not tell. Reality has blurred. This is Hell and time isn’t linear. I am not linear. At times, lost in the lust he created, she caught glimpses of her past. She remembered what she was, a newly made captain leading hundreds of warriors, and the instincts that led her to that exulted posting.
Angels didn’t think of the future. To an immortal, the future was an unending stretch of time that could lead to madness. Yet, that’s what she saw or what he wanted her to see. A future, outside of Hell, walking in the sunlight, with him by her side. A Demoni Lord free of the chain binding him to the underworld. A terrifying prospect she could not let happen.
Still, his name evaded her. He told her once, but she couldn’t retain the memory. She needed to remember his name. Needed to know whom would feel her fury and eat the end of her blade when freedom belonged to her again.
The echo of footsteps caused her to still, made her want to hide until he went away. But he never went away. Alway
s there. Always present. Always knowing.
But he didn’t know her. He would never know her.
I will fight him. Fight him until nothing was left. Until the end of Heaven and Hell, Earth and the Universe.
It’s time.
His words filled her head. A part of her knew what he referred to and shied away. With strength she hadn’t known she possessed, Gemma rolled onto her stomach and crawled to the opposite side of the bed as if it offered sanctuary.
He met her there, ever patient, waiting for her to give up. Waiting for her to give into his demonic seduction.
Not today. Not tomorrow. Never. Never. Never.
Soon, Gemma. Soon you will chant forever. Forever as I lose myself in your flesh.
She rose from the bed, her limbs obeying a command she’d not ordered. At eye level, she faced him, yet still couldn’t see him. Regardless of the lighting, his face remained masked in shadows, more solid than armor.
“Which one are you?”
His mouth moved. A word comprised of many syllables slipped out. It hung in the space between them.
Open for me, Gemma.
She obeyed because she hadn’t a choice. Her jaw unhinged and slid open. She saw it, the scrambled word shimmering in the air as it moved closer to her lips and passed between. It landed on her tongue, singed her taste buds with its syrupy sweetness. Not what she expected. The taste was exquisite. He tasted of dreams, nightmares and fantasies. He tasted of grand schemes and minute details, of plans gone awry and of unbearable pain. He tasted hopeless and hopeful.
All this she discerned as the things in her mouth blended together in erotic detail no angel should view. She tried to spit it out, but it burrowed into her flesh to lodge in the thickest part of her tongue. Rubbing her tongue against the roof of her mouth, she could feel it. It was small and hard. Wanting it out, she bit down
Dizziness swamped her, dragged her under a foggy sea of muffled sensations. She drowned and welcomed it. Putting an end to all of this…
There is no end, not for us.
There is no us, she tried to say, but her tongue had turned into a slab of concrete. And her eyes were closed. She couldn’t open them. Air swirled around her, touching intimate places only her hands had ever attended. She wasn’t fooled. He was taking her somewhere. Freeing her? She dared not hope. Angels didn’t hope. Was she still an angel? Thought dead, had the Celestial Order moved on? Did anyone mourn her? Would anyone avenge her? The litany went on and on.
Help me, Father.
Her body halted, and stillness settled over her along with a foreign calmness filtering through her subconscious, trying to sneak beneath her guard. Ready for battle, her eyes flew open to a new landscape. The Bedouin tent on a beach with no ocean had been replaced with a sparkling basilica made of black ice. Glass statues so real she waited for them to move. The floor polished to a shine her reflection glowered back at her. Pews, also glass, progressed to an altar that seemed a mile away, yet still too close. She looked up, expecting to see an arched ceiling covered in a mural copied after one of the masters: Michelangelo or Montenegro. There was no ceiling. Open to the underworld, winged demons dominated the skies.
Under the scrutiny of a room full of Hell’s denizens, Gemma stood at one end of the nave. Scores of Ifirts, Gergos, Hazk, and Darklings crowded the ceilings, and Spaun filled any space left available.
At the other end, on a raised dais, her Demoni Lord. His gaze landed on her. She felt the weight of it in a casual caress that caused her loins to clench with expectancy. Her skin flushed under his perusal, wanting his gaze, seeking it out even though it repulsed her.
Her feet moved forward, taking her to him one step at a time. Stopping was a passing thought she couldn’t grasp and hold. It slipped through her fingers like air she didn’t need. She wanted to go to him. Needed to be with him.
Deep inside a distant voice echoed in the chambers of her brain. Not a voice, but a scream. She had the sense that once, perhaps eons ago, that scream had the power of a volcanic eruption. Yet now, when she needed it most, it was nothing more than a gapping, silent mouth. Open, but absent of any sound. Whatever power it had possessed was ripped out and tossed away.
Down the center aisle, Gemma marched, practically goose-stepped, her movement stilted and forced. Each footstep placed with military precision echoed. She glimpsed her reflection in a wide pillar. Clothed in a bodice made of the finest silk and a voluminous multi-layered organza skirt, the dress was the color of midnight sprinkled with diamond stars. Her hair, a combination of black, silver, and lavender was piled high on her head with a few stray curls framing her face. Her lips were red, her eyes, lined and smoky. Her skin, radiant. Never had she been so beautiful or more artificial. She was a warrior, not a prom queen. My wings? Where are my wings?
Struck by the wrongness of it all, her steps faltered. That scream had found a single vocal cord and whispered through her brain.
Vertebrae crackled as heads cranked around and beady eyes nailed her. The air thickened, seeded with violence. Her sword, she needed it.
Gemma opened her hand and called for it. Her palm remained bare.
Come to me.
The command snapped her attention to the end of the long aisle, to the Demoni Lord waiting for her. White cloth draped one shoulder, crossed his body to wrap around his hips, leaving most of him exposed. Demon or not, he was well-formed, something she’d never have noticed outside of Hell. He was tall, close to seven feet, but lean. His muscles sculpted, not bulging. His skin was gray and almost translucent. Her eyes drank him in. Her nostrils flared, searching for the scent of him. Her fingers ached for access to all that male perfection. Her ears strained for the sound of his voice. Through the word buried in her tongue, she’d already tasted him, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted more. All her senses demanded more.
Her will derailed and all thoughts of her weapon, the wrongness, freedom, vanished. She resumed her march, her steps quickened.
Through the mask shielding his face, she could see his eyes. Not the stunning sunbursts rimmed with gold she’d first seen upon arrival in Hell. At this moment, they were hazel rimmed with amber. Undeniably entrancing. Undeniably human.
Lies! It wasn’t real and she wouldn’t be fooled.
None of that stopped her from floating up the steps to halt in front of him. Towering over her, his gaze swept from the crown of her head to the hem of the gown. She felt it through the gown in a brazen caress that had her flesh shuddering in expectation.
So ravishing. My vision aches from your beauty, though I prefer you naked and awaiting my pleasure.
In her mind, her hand snapped out and she delivered a crushing blow to his frontal lobe. Stunned, he dropped to one knee, his head bowed, his neck exposed, and vulnerable. Her sword appeared, clasped tight in her grip. Her arc was sure, true, and unwavering. Even as his head angled up, his gaze captured hers, and he smiled in approval. It was all in her mind.
She blinked once, clearing the daydream from her mind.
You are mine and I am yours. We are all you will ever need.
No.
Fantasy and reality swirled together, became indiscernible. What was real? Was she? Was he? A cold heat radiated from him, wrapped around her, and drew her in. Goosebumps flashed across her skin and a shiver raced down her spine. Caught in his aura, planet to his sun, she circled him as chants rose from the pews. The chants evolved into wails, a type of sorrow that pierced her chest with an agony she’d never experienced. She gasped. “Cold. So cold.” All of her went numb.
He touched her, his palm to her bare shoulder, and suddenly all that cold transformed into a searing, engulfing heat. A thousand suns thawed her, then scorched her. More, she demanded.
His tongue thrust between her teeth, invading her mouth. Her tongue pushed back in a slip and slide duel that left her panting. He devoured her, licking, sucking, nipping, his mouth owned her. Arms caged her, yanked her into a hard, unforgiving body. She writhed against that hard
ness, seeking it, needing it. Someone growled, her, him, she didn’t care.
Hands captured her face, tenderly, with a reverence she’d never expected from a demon. Then it was over, the kiss ending as abruptly as it started. She stared into his eyes. Only his eyes, because that’s all she could see. His orbs weren’t amber anymore. No, they were the deepest, darkest black with a thin ring of gold circling it.
The room silenced and from the corner of her eye, the demon audience rose.
Like the predator that he was, his head swiveled around. His attention wholly on them for the first time. His lips peeled back from two sets of fangs larger than any she’d seen in the natural kingdom. His mouth parted, and she waited, waited to finally hear his first spoken words.
A raspy, guttural sound that scraped her eardrums. It was primal, promised violence if not obeyed. The basilica shook as he commanded all to, “Bow to my queen.”
~~~~~~
Thank you for reading Only One I’ll Have. The next book, Only One Little Sin, will be out next year. In the meantime, check out the first chapter of Eternity, the first novel in my Descendants of Ra series.
Cursed for 2000 years, Roman Nicolis has tracked his lovers’ soul through each reincarnation only to lose her horribly every time. Reclaiming their love is his only salvation. He’s been her friend, her father, her neighbor, but never again her lover . . . until now.
A late-night walk home throws Stella Walker into the path of a killer. The last thing she remembers are the deep blue eyes of the man trying to kill her—and the first things she sees after a seven-day coma are the same blue eyes in the handsome face of the man hired to protect her. Is he truly the owner of a security firm or the man who wants to finish her off? Is it fears she feels when Roman touches her or the memory of something sweeter?
Past secrets haunt them. An angry demon stalks them.
Roman will do anything to recover what they once had. Though Stella’s ruined childhood has made her close her heart and body to any man, he must get past the walls around her to gain her love and trust, for it will take their union to defeat an unexpected enemy sent from the Egyptian Gods. A man Romans respects, and Stella trusts.
Only One I'll Have (UnHallowed Series Book 4) Page 32