by A. Vers
“Yeah. Sure thing.” My voice cracks, and I scrub the back of my neck. There’s a bottle of bourbon calling my name at the manor anyway. “Do you need to tell Raina or ...”
She shakes her head. “Nope. I’m all yours.”
My heart slams so hard, a nearby shifter glances my way. I force the traitorous organ to shut the fuck up and motion her to the door.
The night is warm, breezy. Even outside the heavy beat of some Mercalli remix thrums through the air. A masculine grunt eclipses a long pause from the synthesizer inside, making me turn.
The alley behind us is dark, empty at first glance. Something moves through the shadows, and I take a step back the way we came.
Small warm fingers alight over my arm, searing me in place.
“Ruin?” Lilah’s voice is soft. Sweet. My teeth grind.
I pull my keys from my pocket and hold them out. But my eyes never leave the alley rim. “Go start the car, will you?”
“Is everything—”
“Yeah. Just forgot to tell Raina something. Go start the car and lock the doors, okay? And don’t open them until I come back.” When I glance over, her bright blue eyes are fixed on my face, her bottom lip between her teeth.
She hesitates, but starts to walk backward over the pavement. I wait until she is at the car before flitting to the alley. The cloying scent of raw meat and fresh blood fills my nose in droves. My eyes flood with gold light.
Pulling the small .380 from my boot holster, I walk slowly into the darkness.
The dumpsters are open, but empty of all but the night’s first trash round. Even the thicker shadows around them are devoid of debris. My heart beats like a drum as the scent grows stronger, thicker, and too powerful for a skirmish. Aged copper fills my nostrils until my fangs drop with force. There is something familiar about it. A trace of fragrance ...
Around the corner of the last bin, hidden half-in and half-out of a stack of old pallets, two long pale legs gleam. Dread washes over me. I step closer. The thick scent of death is underscored with something chemical, rank. I hold my breath. Hauling the top broken slat free, a familiar mass of dark brunette waves glare back.
For a moment, my heart stops. All the air in my lungs fades, leaving me gasping and disoriented. Memories of another body, another set of those waves seems to superimpose across my vision. I shut it down. Deep, deep fucking down.
Hand shaking only slightly, I lift the next broken piece back to reveal the waitress from the night before. Her neck sits at an off angle, but the smooth column still holds a slight bruise from my less than gentle bite. It’s all I can do to stand upright as the earth sways on its axis.
In the dark, her resemblance to Lilah is stronger. The coloring. The build. Except the waitress’ sightless eyes are a foggy walnut.
Is it a coincidence?
“Ruin? What’s going on?”
Lilah’s voice slams into me like a truck. I whirl to find her feet away, her small hands knotting over and over again in front of her.
“What are you fucking doing?” I roar. “I told you to wait in the car.”
She steps back. “It was taking you a long time, and I saw light—”
My lips press into a hard line. I stalk over to her and grab her small arm with my free hand. She gasps, but doesn’t pull away as I haul her back towards the front door of Underground. Then I stop.
What if the killer is still nearby? Hell, what if they are in the club?
I pull my cell phone from my pocket and dial as I force Lilah to the car. She protests when I open her door and point.
“Get in the gods-damn car, Lilah, or I make you.”
She stares up at me, blue eyes flashing. But she gets in the car. The phone line clicks as I slam her door.
“Gage? Get to fucking Underground. We got a waitress dead.”
He swears. “Fuck. Where?”
“Alley.” I pause as my skull twinges. “I need the team to case it and the club. Alert Markus.”
There is a brief pause. “Where you gonna be, Cap?” he asks.
My eyes lock on Lilah’s turned head. “Give me fifteen minutes to meet you. I need to do something first.”
22
Lilah
RUIN PULLS THE CAR right up to the manor and never even lets me touch the handle of my door before he is opening it and pulling me out. I squirm in his hard grasp.
There was something in that alley. Something he is trying hard not to show, and hard not to tell me about. But I heard enough of his call. He called his team. So whatever it was, it was bad.
That alone makes me stop fighting him.
He tugs me up the stairs and down the hall, not toward my room, but the opposite side of the manor. To the off-limits fortress style door. My heels dig into the wood.
“Ruin?”
He pushes open the panel like it weighs nothing and forces me to follow him into a concrete and steel fortified cavern. Most of the lights are on, leaving the room oddly inviting despite the lack of windows. Next to a long bar, a small nook of chairs waits, unoccupied. He pushes me into one and I bounce in place from the force of my drop.
“Stay.” The command is harder than the one at Underground. Fiercer. His dark eyes glint in the lights above.
“Okay ...” I hedge. “But why can’t I go to my room?”
His lips peel back to flash long, recurved fangs. “You’re lucky I don’t tuck you into the fallout corridor behind a cell door.”
I bristle at the snide tone. “What the fuck did I do?”
“What did you do?”
I nod.
Gold light shimmers through his eyes, and I rock back. “You’re fucking ‘uncle’ is one of the largest purveyors of sin in Lock Lake. Blood, sex, drugs ... He dabbles in it all, sweetheart. And instead of you turning him in, you went to work for him. Now, his damn dealer is in the wind and I just found a dead waitress that looks an awful lot like you. So maybe you should ask yourself that damn question.” He storms off back toward the door.
It slams behind him and I jump.
But I don’t move from the chair. If I stand, I’ll fall. It’s like saying the earth is round. It’s a fact. A hard truth.
A dead woman that looked like me? I shiver and wrap my arms around my body.
I’m not stupid. I’ve known all along what Vic was capable of. What lengths he would go to in order to get me back. But killing an innocent? Just because she resembled me?
Even I never thought he would stoop that low.
Apparently, I don’t know him as well as I thought I did. My stomach knots.
And if Vic will kill at random, what will he do when he finds out Ruin is hiding me?
“What is eating you, little bird? Because it is not me.”
My head whips up.
Caine leans against the wall opposite me, arms crossed over a bulletproof vest.
I raise a brow. “Aren’t you supposed to be with Ruin and the others?”
His lips curve into a devilish smile, and he glances down at his manicured nails. “It seems I am being punished.”
“Punished? For what?”
He looks up, ruby irises gleaming under his thick lashes. “For my interest in you, little bird.” He pushes from the wall and prowls closer. His hellfire and amber scent fills my nose in a cloud.
“Interest?” I squeak.
“Though it seems I am not the only one.” He makes a voila gesture. “Hence, why I am here.”
My head shakes as he nears. “I don’t understand ...”
One hand raises. His knuckles flow just above my skin, bringing heat but no actual touch. “The good Captain, little bird. His blood sings for you.” His eyes flash, and the first trace of fire rolls through his irises. He stares down at me. “But I can still taste your desire. It’s sweet. So very sweet. Innocent, almost. And it’s calling me.”
He reaches for me, and I duck out from under his arm.
I backpedal. “Caine. Stop.”
He draws up short. “Oh
I will not bed you, little bird. You are spoken for, regardless of what the Captain may believe. And even as a demon, I have my honor.” He sweeps a sarcastic bow. “But allow me a taste. Just one sip to ease the coldness in my veins.”
I stop walking. “You want to ... drink my lust?”
He trembles. “Only a bit.”
We stare at each other.
I bite my lip.
Am I crazy for even considering it?
Probably. But it would be nice to deal with Ruin with a level head. “Does it hurt?” I ask.
His answering smile is all Sin. “I have been told it is rather pleasurable.”
My thighs clench as that word seems to resonate into my core with more force than it should. I shiver. “Shit. Did you do that?”
“Do what, little bird?” he asks, closing the distance in a rolling glide of his hips. His eyes pulse and my knees weaken.
His arm flows around my waist, pulling me against a lean, chiseled chest. My palms press against the bulletproof vest covering him, rubbing against the ridges of Velcro. I stare at him, lips parted.
“Do I have permission?” he asks, searching my face.
“I—”
“A taste, little bird. That is all.”
My body burns. But not for him.
“No.” I push at his body, and shockingly he steps back with but a gentle hold on my arm to keep me steady.
His smile is self-deprecating. “You are a delight as always, little bird.” He starts to walk off.
“Wait.”
He peers at me. “Yes?”
“That’s it?”
“Is what it?”
“You’re not going to force me? To rant and rave at the unfairness of humanity?”
His head falls back and he laughs. “I am Asmodai, little bird.” His hellfire eyes pulse and heat courses through my veins until I cannot breathe past the need. “If I want you, believe me, I will have you.”
I tremble, hands fisting and un-fisting at my sides as I try to work through what he said.
“But, as I said ...” He smiles. “You are already spoken for. And even I have my honor.” He bows in a truly sarcastic sweep and walks from the room.
The heat inside me snuffs out like a candle. It leaves me cold. Quaking. I go back to my alcove and curl up in the seat, arms around my body.
I’ll give Ruin an hour to come back. If he doesn’t, orders or no orders, I’m not staying in here another minute.
23
Ruin
I WALK THROUGH THE back room to the coven house, unwilling to even look at Lilah now. Every instinct in my bones is demanding I lock her up. Not in a cell. But in my room, shackled to my bed, until all of this is over.
Gage and T are careful to keep a distance as we take the tunnel under the manor. They had little to say in the alley too. The whole damn team was silent, on pins and needles. Ones I am putting off like pheromones that scream ‘caution, angry vampire’.
There were no trails. Nothing but a syringe tainted with toxic yellow liquid. I didn’t need Gage’s sigh to tell me it was Brightex.
It’s like everywhere Lilah goes, the damn drug follows.
“We may want to consider she doesn’t know about any of this, Cap.” T’s voice is surprisingly empty. Mild. “Every shred of info I found on her is clean, man. Not even a parking ticket. None of this adds up.”
I growl, but otherwise remain silent.
“I agree she should’ve called him in,” he continues. “But what if she couldn’t?”
My eyes track to him, the motion slow. “What?”
Is he really defending her?
“Vic is listed as her guardian, track? But what if it’s more than that? The fucker is wired like the mob.” His pale eyes flick to Gage. “I saw the room, too, Cap. And that isn’t how you treat a doting niece.”
I lean against the cool wall of the tunnel, and pinch the bridge of my nose. My damn skull pounds with my heartbeat. “T ... I’m having a hard time thinking about all this shit, right now.”
He glances at Gage again. “We know.”
I raise a brow.
Gage lays a hand on Tanner’s shoulder. “It’s not just your scent, Cap. It’s the battle rage, man. I can see it in your fucking eyes. It’s waiting beneath the surface, watching everyone and everything that happens. And that is some scary shit, true?”
A supernatural’s battle rage is a thing of legend. Only the oldest of the old really remember a time when it was common place. Remember what it’s like to go berserk and act out every base instinct our kind possess. And Gage is right.
With Lilah, everything is blurred. I want to hate her and protect her. Lock her up and hold her. I want to fucking own her and make her leave. I can’t think rationally. Can’t fucking function beyond the need. A need I refuse to voice. Not that I need too.
“I’m going fucking insane.”
Tanner snorts. “Going? Nah, Cap. You’re there, man.”
I flip him off.
Gage steps closer. “Fucking bed her already.” My body swells at his harsh words. “Screw her until whatever this is goes away. And then get your damn head back in the game.”
I glare at him. “Succinct.”
He rolls his eyes and pulls a hand-rolled from his vest before offering it to me. I start to shake my head and then stop.
My fingers pluck the smoke from his grasp and place it between my lips before it even registers. He snaps and icy green flames flare between the digits. I lean down and inhale.
The spicy herb flows into my lungs and the light from my eyes dims. It’s only then that I realize they were glowing like small suns. “Fuck.”
He nods. “Smoke and then shower.”
Tanner grins. “Because you’re not you when you’re—”
Smoke between my lips, I slug him in the shoulder and he cackles like a madman. “Fuck off.”
He salutes me. “Aye, aye, Cap.” The shifter strolls off toward the house, but Gage hesitates.
“You want me to hang?”
I suck in a heavy draw. “Nah. I’ll be in after a while.”
He claps me on the arm. “Seriously, though.” His eyes are stark, deep-set emeralds beneath his almost white-blonde waves. “Fuck the human, Cap. When you’re done, we will be in the training room.” He walks off and I stand alone in the tunnel; the Black-Dream smoke fills the space until the very air resembles the haze in my skull. A haze that tames some of the lust to something manageable. Easy.
Only then do I snuff the joint out and go find Lilah.
24
Lilah
SOMETHING COOL FLOWS over my cheek and I jerk upright, all vestiges of sleep gone.
Ruin stands over my chair, his dark eyes bloodshot and a coarse shadow of hair covering his jaw. His bottomless gaze tracks over me from the top of my head to my toes where I kicked off my heels. “You planning on sleeping there?”
I gaze up at him as he continues to stroke my face. “You told me to stay.”
His lips curve. “You listen remarkably well when I get angry. Why is that?”
My heart thrums. “Because you weren’t angry at me. Not really.”
Those dark eyes drop to my mouth. “Oh yeah?”
I lick my lips, and a trace of gold shines through his irises. “You were upset about the woman, but you had every right to say what you did. I should’ve walked into the station and turned Vic in years ago. I didn’t, and now her death is on me.”
He drops into a crouch, and a wash of heavy spice floats around him. “It’s on both of us.” His words puzzle me, but he just leans closer to my drawn up legs. “Now, again ... You planning on sleeping there?”
“Can I go back to my room?”
His dark eyes flash and they trail over my bare legs like heat. “I was thinking something closer.”
“Closer?”
“Yeah. Like a room in here.”
“Umm ...why?” I ask, searching his face.
He frowns. “It’s too far to wal
k, right now.”
My eyes narrow on the glassy quality of his gaze. “Are you high?”
He waves one hand absentmindedly. “Black-Dream weed for a supe is like a muscle relaxant to a human. I’m fine.” Again, he frowns. “Or I will be. Soon. Very soon.”
“And why is that?” I ask, not really sure I want the answer.
His hands glide up my legs, and he pulls them down. And apart. My skirt bunches up around the tops of thighs, and I try to tug it back in place. “Ruin? What are you—”
He forces my hands to the armrests with a growl. “Hold.” My body tightens at the command. I dig my nails into the supple leather and hold on for dear life.
His dark head tilts. One hand pulls at the pleats of my skirt, raising it slowly higher. He groans. “Fuck me.” He looks up, and his eyes glow softly. “Black lace? Really?”
My chest heaves. “It matches the skirt,” I breathe.
The sound that leaves him is part growl, part moan. “They’re almost too pretty to rip. Almost.”
My core clamps down like a vise.
Rip?
He pushes the skirt up around my midsection, baring all of me.
He sways a little. “Goddess, your fucking scent is killing me.” His fingers flow over the lace covering me, and I whimper. “You’re drenched, Lilah,” he croons. “Why is that?” He swirls his fingertips over the flower like design, tracing the outline of each petal right over my core.
“You’re touching me. That’s why.”
He chuckles and the sound is dark. “Is it because you’re being touched, or because I’m the one touching you?” Those agile digits skim along my slit from top to bottom and back. My hips shift.
“Both?” I hedge.
His gaze is stark. Almost angry. “Good.” He grabs my hand and forces it to my own flesh. I buck.
“Ruin ...” I glance out of the small alcove we are in. The narrow wall beside us barely hides his massive form. Let alone my almost naked lower half. We can’t do—whatever we are fixing to do here.
He presses his other hand down on my midsection, holding me in place. “So responsive.” Still holding my hand, he forces it lower along my panties. The almost rough fabric is wet. Drenched, just like he said. “Do you feel that? How your body responds to me?” I shiver as he teases me slowly, like he has all the time in the world.