by Melody Raven
“Care to enlighten me?”
Sam took a breath and pushed away from the desk to face the darkness. “You think you’re always right, but you have no idea what’s truly going on. So let me inform you, for once, of something I know and you don’t. One, Claire is alive. She was never really dead. Two, Derek is more than ready to kick your ass. Derek and I are going to kill you and then we’re going to tear through each and every one of the families until there is no one left who is stupid enough to stand in our way.”
Abigail approached Sam until she was just an inch away. “That’s some big talk for a witch who can barely control a little bit of fire.”
“And, oh yeah, one more thing. Claudia might be dead, but it wasn’t your zombie army that did it. It was me.” Sam slammed her palm into Abigail’s chest and put the full force of her magic behind the blow, sending the darkness shooting outside the window and down onto the city street.
Then she slammed her hand onto the glass. Heat flowed through her arm and fingertips until the glass began to glow bright red and creaked and moaned as it seemed to pulsate and grow until the hole was closed and the window was intact again.
Then Sam pushed away and picked up her jar of dirt. She might’ve lost her element of surprise, but damn it, throwing her mother out the window had been worth it.
The body slammed into the ground with enough force to shake the cars around him, setting off car alarms and gathering a crowd. Derek leaned forward to see Abigail Harris pulling herself out of the almost comical person-shaped pothole that had now formed in the street. He leaned back in his seat and tried to remain inconspicuous as she looked around the street and stared daggers at everyone around her before she shoved her shoulder back into place and started to limp down the street away from him.
He turned to watch her retreat and had a thousand questions.
A few minutes later, Sam came to the car and practically fell into the front seat. “Go!” she ordered.
She didn’t have to tell him twice. He shifted the car into gear and slammed on the gas. He had to do a U-turn to avoid the crowd that had formed to look at the crater formed by Abigail Harris, but soon enough they were on the road. “Heading back to Connecticut?” he asked.
“Can we stop at your place first? I want to pick something up from my old apartment.”
He nodded and mentally calculated how long it would take. “What the hell happened back there?”
“Umm.... Abigail and I had words.”
“And then?”
“And then I felt it.”
“Felt what?”
“Just drive. I’ll tell you when we get to my place.”
He hit the gas, and in a few minutes, they parked in front of Sam’s apartment building. “Want me to stay down here?”
“No. I need to show you something. Come on.” She got out of the car and started to run for the door. He didn’t see her take out a key. She just turned the handle on the front door and it opened.
He stepped out of the car and followed her in. She took the stairs two at a time, carefully cradling the jar she’d taken from the office. What had Madame Storm called it? Dirt from all four corners of the earth. He hadn’t realized it was going to be quite so literal.
But when they reached the landing for Sam’s old place, she kept going.
“Sam....”
“Come on!” she called, motioning him to follow. He rolled his eyes but did it anyway. When she was at his door, she turned the handle, once again no key required. As soon as she was in, she set the jar on the floor and turned back to him.
“Sam, what the hell—”
Her arms went around his neck and she pulled him down to her. The shock kept him from pushing her away, but then when the kiss started, he couldn’t think of one damn reason to stop.
He reached down and, with his hands at the back of her thighs, pulled her up until her legs wrapped around his waist and her face was just inches from his. With his new strength, the move felt as though he was carrying nothing, but her curves pressed against his increasingly hard body made him more than aware that she was there. “What are you doing?” he breathed between kisses.
She cupped his face and her lips brushed over his gently before she took his bottom lip between her teeth, giving him a soft nip. “You should’ve seen me.”
He started for the bedroom with her in his arms. He could have her against the wall, on the counter, on the couch. Hell, he could think of a million ways to have the woman of his dreams, but all he could do was walk right for the bed, where he could take his time.
“I am seeing you,” he breathed before he angled his head to kiss her neck, which was at the exact right height for him.
Her thighs clenched him tighter and she let out a moan. “I felt it. Claudia’s power. It’s inside me.”
He thought of other things he wanted to put inside her.... No, logic. Keep it together, Pierce. “I thought we knew that?”
“We knew it was there, but I used it. I sent the darkness running, Derek. Do you know what this means?”
He reached the bed and stopped, almost reluctant to let her go. “It means you’re the sexiest damn queen there’s ever been?”
She let out a little giggle before she swooped down for a quick kiss. “It means we can do this. We can take down the darkness, save my mother. Derek, we might even be able to have it all.”
“All...” he repeated carefully. “I want all of you. That’s what I want.” He didn’t set her down on the bed as much as he covered her entire body with his. The next few seconds was a rush of tearing and pulling at clothes. There happened to be an ornate-looking dagger stuck in the waistband of her pants, but he didn’t have time to focus on that, because then Sam was tugging at the button of his jeans, and Derek had no choice but to oblige her. Every few seconds, he’d stop to kiss her lips, forehead, neck, shoulder.
And as soon as he kicked his pants off and they were both naked, he knew he had to kiss every inch of her body. Multiple times.
His hands roamed over the dip of her waist and curve of her hips as his lips trailed between her breasts, taking time to visit each taut peak, teasing her until she was gasping and moaning beneath him. And right when it seemed as if she couldn’t take any more, he moved lower. He kissed her between her thighs, finding the little spot that made her crazy, and she exploded beneath him. It wasn’t just an orgasm; he could almost feel the power rippling out from her and shooting through him.
He pulled back for a second and blinked a few times, not sure whether he’d imagined it or not. But then he saw the rapid rise and fall of her chest, and his mind was blank to everything except the thought of having her.
He came up between her legs and lowered himself until she seemed to be all over him. He caught her mouth in his and gave her a deep kiss as he rolled over to settle her on top of him. She smiled down at him as she rose up just enough so she could position him at her entrance, and he reached down to guide himself into her warm, wet heat.
As she slid down, they both let out a deep sigh of pleasure. For a moment, she just sat there, eyes closed. Derek was torn between wanting her to move and enjoying the sight of her in all her perfection. This. This is why he was back from the dead. For her. All for her.
And when she started to move, it was unlike anything he’d ever known before. Everything seemed heightened now. His need for her. The heat. The pressure.
He gripped her hips and showed her what rhythm he wanted, moving her over him and enjoying every second of it. And when he could feel the driving need within him reaching a fever pitch, he rolled them over once again, and, bracing himself with one arm, he took everything he wanted from her and swallowed her screams with his mouth with no thought in his mind except for the knowledge that everything at this second was exactly as it should be.
And his orgasm hit him like a bomb went off. Every nerve ending in his body seemed to ignite in one big boom, and his eyes rolled back in his head as he was suddenly incapable of doing anyt
hing else but holding himself up over her.
And soon enough, even that was beyond him and he collapsed on top of Sam, trying his best not to crush her.
Her arms wrapped around him, and her fingers ran up and down his back as she held him close.
Derek tried to catch his breath. “That was....”
“Yeah,” she said.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
He wondered whether that was the only word she could remember at the moment.
He ducked his head to her neck and took a deep breath, enjoying her warmth and scent. “We shouldn’t be here,” he finally admitted.
“What do you mean?”
“We should be heading back to Connecticut. Not holing up here.”
Judging from the way her foot slid up his leg, Sam was decidedly unconvinced. “I got you back from the dead.” She pressed a kiss to his shoulder before she pressed her forehead to the side of his neck. “I’m going to savor this.”
“You’re not using me as a battery?”
She pulled away and frowned. “What?”
“Sex. It makes you stronger. After what you did to Abigail, I figured you were pulling over for a re-up.”
She pushed him away, the hurt evident on her face. “You’re not a battery, Derek.”
“Hey, I get that sometimes you need to charge up. And I’m not mad about it. Just curious about why....” He gestured to the bed. “This.”
She rolled her eyes. “There is no reason. Just... I don’t know. Adrenaline hit me. I was still grateful you were alive. I had hope for the first time in forever, which I really needed because I’m so damn sick of losing. And tonight, finally, we got a win. I got what I went in for and I was able to scare Abigail for the first time. Me. Not Claire with her powers or you. Me. I’m just... I’m pretty close to happy. And I wanted to share that with you. Next time I feel the sudden need to get laid, maybe I’ll just take care of it myself.” She winked.
Oh boy. “If you don’t give me first choice, you can be damn sure you’ll face the full fury of a recently dead guy.”
Claire wasn’t freaking out. That was a good thing because everything inside her really, really wanted to freak out. She wasn’t sure which part made her want to freak out more: the fact that she was about to go into hell or the fact that she was about to drag one of the most evil people she’d ever met out of hell.
She tapped her finger against her thigh and tried to clear her mind. She wasn’t going to worry about it. She was just going to do her damn job, and once they had what they wanted, she would send Jackson right back to hell. She’d done it before. What would make this time any different?
Because this time she knew where he was going, she thought, answering her own question. This time she’d seen where he was suffering. She’d been plagued with visions of Jackson ever since the first time she’d killed him.
Maybe second time was a charm? Maybe this time it would be final and he wouldn’t bother her anymore?
Psh. She wasn’t naive enough to believe that. This wasn’t going to be easy, in any way, shape, or form. “How sure are you about this?” she asked Storm, who was carefully placing the thinnest line of sand ever in an almost perfect circle.
Storm looked over her shoulder to glare at Claire. “Do you see me directing one of these strong, handsome men to bend over where I can get a good view of their backside? No. That’s because I’m serious about getting this done right. Now shut up and prepare your part.”
Dante snickered but Claire couldn’t find any humor in the situation. “I’m going to get some air.” She left them to prepare the ritual alone. She didn’t need to help. She’d be helping enough soon.
She heard footsteps following her out, and she turned to tell Dante she was fine but saw Angela there instead. Oh. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
Angela raised a brow. “I was about to ask you the same thing. You look like you’re about to hurl.”
Claire opened her mouth to defend herself but then thought better of it. She was a hundred percent sure her skin was taking on some unfortunate color right now. “I have to go into hell and pull out a guy who is responsible for me being kidnapped, held hostage, and almost raped and murdered. I’m allowed to be nauseous about it.”
“Fair enough. I guess what I should’ve said was is there anything I can do to help?”
Claire debated laughing. What did this girl really think she could do? Sure, Angela Parker was probably older than Claire, and considering she was a cop, she’d seen a hell of a lot more than Claire had in her brief time as a witch, or at least knowing she was a witch. But at the moment, there was one thing Angela could do. “How is Dante?”
Angela blinked a few times. “Hey, he and I are just—”
“I’m not accusing anything. I’m asking. I know I’ve been frustrating him, and I... I might have to do something I really don’t want to do and I don’t want to hurt him any more than I already have.”
Angela shook her head and rubbed the back of her neck. “Listen, Claire. Dante is a weird one. Half the time I don’t think even he can tell the difference between what he loves and wants to love. And I think that’s one thing you two have in common. So please don’t ask me to get in the middle of this.”
“Fine,” said Claire, more abruptly than she wanted to. “Then you can’t help me.”
She turned and walked away, this time getting outside uninterrupted. She took in deep breaths, letting her eyes drift closed. She could do this. She was a badass soul sucker, damn it. She could do anything she set her mind to, and this was just one more of those things.
The memory of Claudia was fading fast the farther she got from her brush with the sleeping spell, but she still remembered the important parts. Claudia, at the time a wispy, ethereal being barely clinging to the underworld Claire had been in, had gripped Claire’s shoulders so tightly and screamed at her, the commands shaking her very core. “Find Madame Storm. Jackson Benedict will have the answers you need. You need to bring back the child of darkness.”
And that was it. When Claire had woken up, she couldn’t remember any other part of the conversation. To be honest, she remembered very little of what she knew happened. She’d just told the story to so many people by now that she was fairly certain that was what happened. The whole thing made her uneasy.
She crossed her arms over her chest and looked out at the night sky. It wouldn’t be dark much longer. The sun was just about to break over the horizon, and already there was the slightest glow around her, signaling that the night was coming to an end.
“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” said the voice from her nightmares.
She squeezed her eyes shut and willed her sanity to come back. “You’re not here,” she breathed.
“Are any of us really here? I mean, we could all just be microscopic particles in a bauble on a cat’s collar.”
That got her to turn and glare at her mental conjuring of Jackson. “Go away. I’m already about to bring you back. Can’t you at least leave me alone now?”
“No. Because as soon as you bring me back, you’re going to kill me all over again. I think I deserve a second chance.”
“You don’t even deserve half of a chance.”
“But what about you? Don’t you deserve a chance?”
“What the hell are you blathering on about now?”
“You were so innocent at one time. Now here you are. A killer. Ready to kill again. What if you could undo it? Right the wrongs of your past.”
“You’re assuming that killing you was wrong.”
Jackson nodded. “Yeah. I’m going to work with that assumption. That’s the assumption that makes me happy.”
“Your happiness doesn’t matter. You don’t exist.”
“Then why are you talking to me?”
“You little—”
“Claire!”
She twisted around to see Dante at the top of the stairs, motioning to her. “She says she’s ready for you!” he
called, not coming any closer. She wondered whether he was keeping his distance because he didn’t want to leave Madame Storm for any longer than necessary or whether it was because he wanted to avoid her.
“If you’ll excuse me, I have to go save your as—” She looked to her left, but Jackson wasn’t there. Of course he wasn’t. He was a figment of her damn imagination. She let out a deep sigh and went back into the house. Obviously the fresh air wasn’t doing a thing to calm her nerves. When she came back down the stairs, everyone was there—Sam, Derek, Dante, Angela, and Bastian—while Madame Storm was wagging her finger around as though checking off an invisible checklist.
“All right,” she said cheerfully. “I believe we have all the ingredients for one haunting spell. Are we ready, ladies and gentlemen?”
“Let’s do this,” said Claire.
Madame Storm smiled and took out the jeweled knife, the Byzantine blade, and held it, hilt out, to Claire. “This bit is for you.”
Claire took the blade from her carefully and looked over the dull edge. “What is it exactly?”
“This is a cursed knife. A rule breaker. That’s why it’s so pretty. Rule breakers are always the prettiest.” She winked.
Claire didn’t respond to that. “What do I do with it?”
“You need to pull a man out of the depths of the underworld. That’s against all the rules. So to bring him back, you use the knife on him.”
She blinked in surprise. “Wait. You want me to stab Jackson?”
“If you tell him why, I’m sure he’ll be willing.”
Willing. Because when she killed him the last time, it had gone so well for him.
“Okay. So once I kill him, what happens?”
Madame Storm motioned to the small circle with barely enough room for someone Jackson’s size to stand. “This is a prison made from sand from all corners of the earth. He will not be able to get out. No magical being will be able to get in or out.”
“Wait. If we can’t get in, what are we going to do to kill him?”
The metal clacking of a slide being racked back drew her attention to Derek, who stood with his gun in hand. “I’ll take care of Jackson.”