Challenged by Darkness (An Urban Fantasy Novel) (Befallen Tides series Book 2)

by Anna Sanders

  Winx tried not to look at Keaton as he slid into the van next to a happily babbling Sabrina, but it was impossible. When she finally caved in, closing her passenger side door, she found that his eyes were on her already. The two gazed their last as the drivers of each vehicle fired up the engines and drove off in two completely separate directions.

  EPILOGUE

  A bonfire wasn’t the greatest idea, but since there was absolutely no shelter on the vast land, it was necessary. Cris and Winx were miles from any real civilization since they’d left Nevada in their rearview mirror over a week before.

  The demon was sitting casually on a rock by the fire with one leg thrown over the other. His skin looked rather delicious bathed in firelight, and the reflection of the moon made his midnight wings gleam.

  “Come on, kid. Shit happens, but sometimes, a rose grows out of it.” He’d been talking like that since their departure from the mansion. “Do you really miss that mongrel all that much? What was his problem anyway?”

  “He’s had a lot of disappointment lately. I just add to it.” The admission didn’t sound like a regret falling from her lips. More like a chilly observation.

  Cris gave her a calculating look. “Adding relationship problems to your already tumultuous lifestyle?”

  “Keaton and I are just friends.”

  “Thank God for that. You’re far too spicy for a daydreamer like him.”

  “What do you know about me?” she spat.

  “Not much. But I’d like to change that.” He waggled his eyebrows.

  Ugh. What was it with men lately? Winx definitely had enough on her plate without this addition of raucous, unabashed trifle. It was time to change the subject.

  “Are you going to tell me more about your group of misfits?” Winx asked. “Now that you can clearly see how trustworthy I am?”

  Cristis remained heavy lidded as he looked at her. “What do you want to know?”

  “Who were you really affiliated with?”

  “The good guys,” he put it simply.

  “Oh?”

  “You don’t believe me?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Yet you look skeptical.”

  “There doesn’t seem to be much good about you.”

  “I could surprise you.” He had a gleaming, lascivious smile.

  Possibly. Winx was having a hard time not being charmed by him. He was so her type. But that was dangerous territory, especially since she did not know much about him.

  “Are you going to start being serious?” Winx let a bit of humor slip into her once harsh tone.

  “All right.” Cris sat up straight and leaned forward to face her better. A rush of heat emitted from him. It had to be from the raging bonfire in front of them, since he’d absorbed a good amount of it. “We’re basically a group of henchmen for hire. If someone needs the deed done, we do it.”

  “How do you get away with being an assassin with the Lixyn Queendom in power?”

  “Very carefully. But it helps that the Queendom is dissolving into shambles.”

  “I can imagine.” She looked down at the holsters on his hips. “And your calling card is an ax?”

  Cris never lost his gleaming smile. “Gets the point across, doesn’t it?”

  No arguing with that.

  “Now, are you done quizzing me? You’ve been doing it a lot lately.”

  “Just trying to recognize your brand.”

  “My gimmick is mystery. It adds an allure. Come on, don’t try to deny it.”

  Winx was humored by him, though she barely let it on. Too much had clouded her since the death of the Chancellor. Really, she should feel relieved. He was dead. And even though his son had escaped, there was a part of her that insisted Dante Chavez couldn’t be as awful a contender as his father had been. A danger? Sure. But all of that was being put behind her. She was going home.

  Long years had separated her from the Rowan clan. She felt like she had so much of them to relearn, but her family must have missed her if they’d sent an assassin to clear the pathway back home.. They had to have forgiven her for dragging their good name through the mud.

  Or… had they? Was a different kind of punishment awaiting her here? One that would be doled out by her blood rather than those with the light touch? And if that were the case, what would she do about it? Was there any escape from retribution on either side for avenging Deja’s death?

  “You’re looking cold.” Cris had come around the fire. With his wings still brazenly bared, he sat near her and shielded her with them. Instant warmth flooded her, making her shivers disappear. He handed her a bag of beef jerky, which she took though her appetite was absent.

  “You don’t have to be afraid anymore,” he told her. “The worst is over. Now you just get to live your life. The way that you want.”

  “And what about the savage problems throughout the States?”

  “What about them? You didn’t start them. It will get sorted out.”

  She wanted to believe that. But she knew that more blood would be spilt. Maybe this was the beginning of something worse. Had she ever been soldier enough to handle that? Or was she merely a chick killing on a vengeful work visa that was about to expire? Mulling it over didn’t bring her closer to figuring it out. She wasn’t quite sure who she was anymore.

  The night air continued to blow erratically, but Cris kept her well-guarded from it. As Winx closed her eyes and took a bite of meat, she could almost imagine Keaton there instead of him, his arms snug around her, his lips near, and a Bryan Adams song playing in her ear.

  SULTRY IN DEATH

  A Befallen Tides Short Story

  She walked in spiked high heel boots, dressed to kill in a dark leather corset with red accents that pronounced her bust. The leggings were painted to her skin, fashionably split in places to reveal smooth cocoa skin. Her black hair had recently been cut to a bob, the front in long sideways bangs and the back buzzed short. She felt sexy and powerful, like a jungle cat out on the prowl for its next meal.

  But for Deja Rowan, the nights had always been for play.

  She strutted the city streets with confidence. Whenever a man or woman gave her a look, she posed and flaunted her wares in promise of bedroom prowess.

  Her body spoke bold promises. “Yes, I am here for your entertainment. Look your fill.”

  When she reached the night club she had been looking for, she swayed her thick hips on to the front of the line, gave the security a wink, and walked inside without paying. The humans stared at her longingly, hungrily, panting for her presence.

  The music pumped with bass and rap lyrics. People swayed provocatively against each other. The dance floor lit up in a thousand different shades. Deja threw her arms open and plunged into the thick of it. This was where she belonged. Where the music never stopped, the drinks flowed like water, and merriment cascaded upon the people.

  She wended through the lively hall, body shaking rhythmically to the music. Deja’s coal-lined eyes flitted over the crowd, peering into every inner thought. Everyone there was boisterous and ready to do as much damage as she was. She picked her way through them one by one, making eye contact with the most attractive humans there and hypnotizing them with a leer.

  Deja found herself pinned between a gorgeous man and an equally attractive woman. They spun her around their writhing bodies, and she took her time making them acquainted with her intentions. They caressed her clothed flesh with pleading eyes. She teased them, magnetized them, made them beg for more of her. It wasn’t enough for Deja to be coveted by them. She wanted to be a living breathing aphrodisiac. She wanted all to stampede in anticipation of her arrival. She wanted them to kneel.

  It didn’t take long. They drew her close to kiss and nip her exposed neck and whisper heated pleas into her ear, she knew that they had succumbed completely to her wiles. Telepathically or not, it was what Deja required: total submission before the coup de main. Greedy with empowerment, she walked off of the l
it tiles and toward the back door. It was not a matter of would they follow—only how quickly.

  The alley was dank with the heavy, sweltering summer. But convenience came with its pitfalls. Deja was too hungry to care about anything but the touch of her lovers. The man, large with muscle and manly with heat, dove his hands into her cleavage almost as soon as the doors had closed behind them. The woman, blonde and curvaceous, traced fire with her fingertips between Deja’s legs. Deja had driven them there, to this ecstasy waiting to happen. How proud of herself she was. It didn’t matter how many times she accomplished it. Her one night stands were always enthusiastic.

  Deja dropped to all fours, and even the cement beneath her knees wasn’t enough to derail her from the skyrocketed pleasure she was enjoying. Her hips were held high as the man thrust inside of her. And better yet, her face was buried in the wet depths of the woman’s nether regions. Their cries of joy echoed around the alley as the rough lovemaking theatrically commenced, outside for any passersby to see.

  Deja’s body thrummed with delicious curls of satisfaction as she took and was taken. She lost count of how many times the strangers achieved orgasm, how many times she herself did. They warmed the summer concrete with their liaison, shifting and clamoring at one another like animals in heat. Flesh was pierced by teeth, fingernails dug white trails into skin, and when they found themselves sated, the better half of the night had already passed.

  Deja walked back into the club, sore and uncaring. Her two lovers were just as disheveled. She let them go, allowing her spell over them to wane.

  “Do you need a drink?” the girl asked before leaving.

  Deja declined. What drug could possibly numb her better than amazing sex?

  They walked to the bar, and Deja contemplated joining the throng of still-dancing bodies in search of another dance partner. Or two.

  But her revelry did not last too long. As she straightened her bosom within the tight confines of her bodice, a tickle of unease spread throughout her. She frowned, searching the room, but came up empty. The same humans frolicked before her and none seemed effected at all by her departure with the couple.

  Deciding to rest, Deja walked over to the unused booths of the establishment. Red lined furniture with glossy highlights promised respite from the buzzing activity of the lounge, and Deja sunk in readily. She was bruised but sated, and she couldn’t get the goofy smile off her face.

  “Are you having fun?”

  Deja went cold. Her eyes rose to find a lone man before her. He was not very tall, but the fire in his eyes made his stature imposing. His well-crafted Latin features were twisted in rage. His dark hair was mussed, as if angry fingers had been rifling through the thick curls.

  “Dante.” Deja tried to remain calm, even if her heartbeat had kicked up a few notches. “Hey. What are you doing here?”

  “I have been looking for you.” He leaned toward her, that fire still in his gaze. He gave her a quick peck on her reddened lips that she did not return. Their eyes remained locked as he sat beside her on the chaise. “Why haven’t you been answering my calls?”

  “I’ve told you I need some space, Dante,” Deja said.

  “And I have given you space. For two weeks.”

  “Calling me every single day isn’t giving me space. And now look, you’ve followed me from New York here to Ohio.”

  “You told me that you’re here on business.”

  “I am!” she said.

  His eyes flashed. “And your business involves going out to a club?”

  “My work during the day does not interfere with my nights.”

  “Obviously,” he said.

  “Look.” She was losing her patience, and her innocent expression slipped. “I am not ready for all of this.”

  His eyes went softer with sadness. “That is not what you showed me two months ago.”

  “What?”

  “When I proposed? Remember? You were so happy.”

  “I wasn’t happy!”

  “You smiled…” he said.

  “I laughed! I thought that you were joking!”

  “Deja!” Dante grabbed the meat of her upper arm. “Why are you doing this to us?” There was a pain beneath his anger that alarmed her, and not for reasons of his obviously hurt feelings.

  “There is no ‘us,’ Dante! I told you that I am not looking for anything serious. I told you that the day that you asked me out!”

  “I thought that you had changed. I thought that our love made you change.”

  She wrenched her arm from his hold, then patted her chest emphatically while she spoke with him. “I am not anyone’s property! Do you know how long it took me to strike out on my own, leave my parents’ house and get my life started? I am not jumping from one prison to another. I love my life!” She held her arms out. “I want a lot more of this. I want to be young and unattached, that was always my plan! Marriage? It’s out of the question! Probably forever!”

  “So you plan to whore yourself out for the remainder of your days?”

  She slapped him. The sound was muted beneath the music, but the way his head jerked spoke of how hard the blow was. When he looked at her again, the coldness of his stare froze her from within. But she stayed firm in her ire.

  “What I do, and who I do it with, is none of your concern. We are no longer together, Dante. It’s over. It’s been over for weeks. Now leave me alone. I cannot make it any clearer than that.”

  When Dante Chaves stood up, his eyes dawned with a new light as if seeing her for the first time. He nodded, but the anger never ebbed. When he walked away from her, Deja wondered why that unsettling feeling did not depart along with him. She was too incensed to enjoy the rest of her night out. No matter how she tried, Deja could not focus on any of the appealing faces that crowded her. She felt as if eyes were tickling the back of her neck.

  Deja left the club and headed down the quiet city streets to her waiting hotel room. The mirth of her night had been ridded. The bruising on her skin, which before heated her with the memory of intimacy, now felt a nuisance. The night air was not cool, but she felt a chill that would not cease.

  A car approached her. She kept her eyes downcast and waited for it to pass.

  Maybe she had been too hard on her ex flame. It was not as if Dante were all bad. He was clingy, yes, and he hated the word “no.” When they met, she had singled him out due to his somber stare and aphotic attitude. He’d seemed as secluded as she was. But he was too serious. She’d had enough of serious in her life.

  “How’s it going, honey?”

  Deja’s focus turned to the gang that had stopped the car beside her. They were an unruly sort, five of them piled in the car with something unsavory in their eyes. She found herself in no mood to humor them.

  “Carry on, boys.” She continued to walk.

  “Hey, a young thing like you shouldn’t be walking alone.” The car followed slowly beside her. “It’s dangerous out.”

  She would have laughed, but they wouldn’t have gotten the joke. She was of the dark touch. She was probably one of the most dangerous things out here. “Off with you,” she said.

  “No, I’m for real girl. Let us help a sister out.”

  “Look.” She stopped walking. The car stopped right beside her. “You’re someone who would make a perfect stranger. Now buzz off, chuckles.”

  The car window stayed down and the men inside of it had a good laugh at her attempt. Deja frowned. Why hadn’t that worked? She was a daevor. She could compromise any human’s will. She tried again, urging them to leave her alone with her mental powers. It still didn’t work.

  “Come on, baby! We just want the pleasure of your company. Even if it’s accompanied by that mouth!”

  “You’re having delusions of competence.” Why wasn’t this working? This had never happened to her before. She started to walk away, this time at a jog.

  The car sped up significantly. The back doors flew open and a grip strong armed her into the back seat
. Deja screamed pitifully, but she found herself on her back along the lap of the three thugs in the back seat, all of them cheering at their triumph.

  “All right, you’ve had your laughs, now let me go!” She squirmed, trying to get away as the car sped off. She kept trying to force their compliance, but nothing she said or did stopped the humans as they drove off into the night, speeding through stops signs, to take her somewhere secreted.

  She had always been able to avoid situations like this in the past, but there was nothing about this situation that she could alter to her advantage. The gang took her away from civilization and anyone who might be able to help her.

  Deja was dragged out of the car and somewhere she did not recognize. The trailer they took her to was parked somewhere obviously illegal, and no matter how she screamed, she knew no one would hear her.

  In her panic she searched the parameters for any human nearby whose will could be compromised to help her, but came up empty. She was forced to her knees on uncarpeted floors, and the reality of her situation blindsided her.

  “Is this what you wanted, darling?”

  Deja began to cry softly when she heard Dante’s voice. She looked up at him, makeup streaming down her cheeks. He looked just as desolate, as if he’d been crying for hours. His red face remained livid and she knew that she was about to endure something akin to agony.

  “What are you doing, Dante?” she sobbed.

  “I thought this was what you wanted!” he raged. “You wanted many different partners over the course of many different nights, right? You wanted a life that did not involve me!”

  Deja lowered her head, entire body shaking. “Let me go!”

  The gang members approached then. They began to cut her clothing off of her with knives. Deja fought with all of her might, but she was outnumbered. She screamed as her body began to become exposed before the strangers.

  “Try all you want, you cannot control them!” Dante went on. “There is nothing that you can do to escape this.”

  “Help me! Oh my God, help me!”