by J. N. Colon
Etie picked up the bowl and walked toward the door. His fingers dipped into the mixture and traced symbols on the wood. More voodoo chants fell from his lips. The shapes burned a fiery green before dulling and disappearing.
He moved to the two windows, repeating the same process. When he was finished, those glowing eyes met mine.
A hot shiver rippled up my back.
“Nothing will step foot in here tonight.” Darkness and danger coiled around his voice, leaving no wiggle room.
I believed him.
Etie tossed the spell ingredients back into the armoire, and I released a breath of relief. That was tame compared to what I’d seen before. He took a seat on the edge of the bed, facing me.
I grabbed the tea again so my hands had something to do other than caress those wild locks of his. “So, the thing?”
“It’s called a baka,” he said. “It’s a shape-shifting demon.”
Without Etie’s superfast reflexes, the cup would have dumped hot tea all over my lap when I dropped it.
“A demon!” I screeched. I hadn’t expected the thing to actually be a demon.
He set the cup on the table without chiding my clumsiness. “Yes.”
“The kind that can possess me?” Images of The Exorcist whirled through my mind, making me shiver. It only worsened when Etie didn’t deny it. “Did the gris-gris bag cause it?”
“Sort of.” Etie stretched back on his hands, the t-shirt straining against his chest. “A baka can manifest anytime, but the gris-gris bag was used to control it. To make it torment you.”
I drew a shaky hand through my damp strands. “Who would do that?”
This reminded me of the vivankò attack. Both incidents stunk of mystery. The voodoo king wouldn’t need to use either of those things to torment me. He seemed pretty happy doing it himself or using his spirits. And if he was trying to kill me, he could just as easily do that himself, too.
Etie’s jaw clenched. “I don’t know, but it means someone has been in your house. I don’t like it.”
A fist tightened around my heart until it threatened to pop. “What if more gris-gris bags are in my house and not just my room? I can’t let my family get hurt because of me.”
Etie leaned forward and rubbed my arm gently. The gesture was enough to loosen the invisible fingers gripping my heart. “I’ll have Bastien check your house.”
My brow arched. “How is he going to do that without anyone seeing him?” On second thought, I didn’t want to know. “Never mind.”
He stood and grabbed his phone from the dresser. His fingers worked fast as he typed a quick message to his brother. “He’s on it.”
A weight lifted from my shoulders. My family would be safe tonight. My gaze flicked toward Etie. And so would I.
He shut the light off, flooding the room with darkness. “Get some sleep, Angeline.” Lightning flashed, outlining his wide shoulders as he made his way toward the other side of the bed. Material rustled, and the mattress dipped from his weight.
My pulse spiked. He was sleeping with me?
Even the thought was a high-pitched squeal in my head. As my eyes adjusted, I found Etie directly beside me.
The corners of his lips twitched. “Problem, cher?”
My gulp was audible. “N-No.”
So I’d never shared a bed with a guy before. What was the big deal? We’d just be sleeping.
My gaze traveled lower to his chest bare. Oh for love of everything innocent. He had to be half naked.
Well, it matched my own half nakedness.
Thoughts of us in the lake together ran through my mind. That sweltering heat flared over my skin. I wasn’t going to get an ounce of sleep.
Etie’s sultry chuckle swirled between us. “I won’t bite.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Not tonight anyway.”
“Oh god.” I shook my head before laying on a pillow.
Etie followed suit, his white teeth shining in the dark. “But seriously. Get some sleep. You’re safe here.”
“I know.” And it wasn’t because of the spell. It was because I always felt safe with him. I wasn’t about to admit that though. The cocky Cajun probably knew it anyway.
His hand slid toward mine beneath the covers, fingers brushing my palm. As if he hit a button, the tension melted from my body.
It had to be magic.
A sigh fell from my lips, and my lids drifted closed. Etie’s breathing was even, but he wasn’t asleep. His eyes were on me, watching. Not in that creepy stalker way. This was more protective.
The mysterious herbs and heady fragrance that belonged to the Cajun voodoo caster soaked into my mind. It relaxed me like herbal tea. Before long, my body gave into exhaustion, and I was slipping under.
It felt like only seconds passed when I woke. Dim morning light filtered through the swamp trees and sifted into the windows. A heavy, comforting weight rested over my back, and my legs were tangled with something warm. My body buzzed.
My attention pulled to the right, and I found the reason for my morning high.
Etie laid beside me on his stomach while his arm was tossed over me, our legs twisted together like pretzels. My cheeks flushed at our intimate position. If anyone walked in, they’d think we were more than friends.
My inner voice laughed at me. We’d passed friends a long time ago, if we ever were. We were either fighting, facing some scary voodoo shit, or nearly kissing.
The light danced across Etie’s snake tattoo, highlighting the intricate scales. The thing was as magnificent as it was terrifying. Just like the guy.
Unable to resist, my fingertips ran along the surface of the snake. It shimmered and slowly came to life, coiling across Etie’s back. The rattle of its tail echoed in the room, and its eyes looked deeply into mine. It could easily hypnotize me.
A low, husky moan slipped from Etie’s sleeping form. I snatched my hand back, but it was too late.
He shifted, his head turning in my direction. His lids were half-mast, the blue and green irises scorching. “You shouldn’t provoke a snake, cher.” His voice was sexier than usual, rough and thick with sleep.
Heat blossomed in my cheeks. “Sorry. I just…it looks so real.”
“I wasn’t talking about the snake on my back.”
My eyes widened at the innuendo, and my tongue was glued to the roof of my mouth.
Without warning, Etie pulled me beneath him. His arms held some of his weight, but I was still graced with the feel of his entire body stretching over mine. I’d definitely provoked something.
Chapter 24
My body trembled beneath his, and it wasn’t from fear. Straight up lusty hunger. Every fiber in my being wanted him.
“Angeline, I don’t know what’s worse. Waking up to you stroking my tattoo to life or waking up to you in just my t-shirt.”
My heartbeats tripped all over themselves. Heat flooded my skin, and my mouth wouldn’t cooperate. “I…I can’t think of anything to say.”
Honesty was usually the best policy.
A sleepy, wicked smile curled his soft lips. “That’s okay. You don’t have to say anything except my name when it feels good.”
Oh. My. Gawd.
Blood coursed through my veins like it couldn’t get back to my heart fast enough. Tingles rippled over my body, hot and unrelenting. Was he serious, or was this more of his teasing humor?
Etie’s head dipped, planting a kiss on my neck. The flick of his tongue sent shockwaves through my system. Electricity crackled around us.
“Hmm. Angeline likes?”
Oh, Angeline likey a lot.
He did it again, this time on my collarbone. A soft sigh slipped from me without my consent. Etie’s eyes met mine, and the look in them sent swells of heat through my lower belly. I bit my lip, terrified of what might come out next.
As it turned out, I didn’t need to worry about speaking. The moment Etie’s lips descended on mine, my brain was gone.
Holy voodoo.
The kiss con
sumed me, stealing my sanity and tossing me into a world of longing and desire. It felt like we’d been on the precipice of giving in for weeks, and we’d finally tore down every wall between us. Nothing was left to hide behind.
His tongue swirled around my mouth, tasting me and sending scorching shivers down every inch of my spine.
And his taste? Better than I imagined. Like candy straight from heaven. Or maybe hell because he was too damn sinful and wicked to be anything that pure.
“Angeline.” His lips slid down, spreading burning kisses along my jaw.
I still couldn’t speak. The only sounds coming out of me were ragged breaths and tiny whimpers. I should have been embarrassed, but luckily Etie had already stolen that ability from me the moment he took control of my body.
A warm, calloused hand slipped under my t-shirt, fingers trailing up my ribs. The touch was deliberately slow and soft, driving me wild. I was going to liquefy into a puddle beneath him if he continued.
And that was fine with me.
That hand disappeared from my ribs, sliding down my thigh. Etie’s weight shifted, and he lifted my leg, hooking it around his hip.
I bit my lip against the sigh of pleasure trying to escape. From Etie’s chuckle, I was only half successful. My pulse was ragged while my body was covered by the inferno he’d created. Electricity popped around us, and the light above flickered rapidly.
Etie took no notice. Instead, he started a slow, torturous crawl up my neck.
“Angeline,” he murmured. “Your skin tastes like sugar and your mouth like honey.” His tongue flicked over my earlobe. “I can’t get enough.”
Hot damn. This guy was going to make me lose my sanity. Hell, some of it was already down the drain.
His lips crashed on mine again just as an annoying buzz filled the room. With a growl, Etie snatched his phone off the bedside table to shut off the alarm. His fingers gripped it so tight the hard plastic threatened to crumble.
As the sound halted, a dark shadow passed over his face. His body tensed, turning to stone above mine. My eyes followed his line of vision, and the warmth leached out of me.
Our breathing filled the sudden silence as we both stared at the screen on his phone. Stared at the date.
My birthday was in two days.
The fire he’d started between us was now a block of hard, unforgiving ice. Doomsday had snuck up on us, and we still hadn’t found a way to break the voodoo king’s deal.
Etie cursed in a couple different languages as he got up and marched out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
My eyes remained fixed on the plate of arroz con pollo, my fork absentmindedly moving around the tiny green chickpeas. My grandmother stood on the other side of the counter, carrying on a lively conversation with my mother and Marisol.
I had no idea what they were talking about. The only thing my mind could focus on was the steady minute hand on the clock ticking away. In less than twenty-four hours my soul would belong to the voodoo king.
Would I still be me? Would I remember my life?
Maybe it was better if I didn’t. Maybe it was better if I ceased to exist from that point on. I couldn’t imagine what was waiting for me in the spirit world.
Oh, wait. I could. The baron’s evil spirits.
After Etie walked out of his room yesterday morning, Bastien gave me a ride home. I hadn’t seen or heard from the pouvior bokor since. He was probably cutting his losses. I couldn’t blame him. We both knew I was doomed.
And now I was out of time. This was doomsday eve.
A hard flick echoed across my arm.
“Ouch,” I hissed, shooting Marisol a narrowed glare. “What?”
She pointed her fork across the counter at Abuela and Mom. “Did you not hear a word they said?”
“Obviously not,” I muttered.
Remind me why I gave up my soul to save her?
She grinned ear to ear. “They said you could come visit me in New Orleans before school starts.”
Great. They finally relented. Too bad I’d be dead by then.
My mom lifted a palm. “We’ll all be visiting you. We thought we’d make a nice family trip of it.” She blinked her hazel eyes expectantly, waiting for my thrill of excitement.
“Oh, um, cool.” I went back to picking at my food, unable to muster much enthusiasm for something that would never happen. A lump rose in my throat. I should be enjoying every last second I had with my family, but thoughts of future torture sucked the energy from my body.
Marisol scoffed. “Geez, Flaca. I’d thought you’d be a little happy about it.” She shoveled in a fork full of rice and chicken.
“I am.” I shrugged. “I’m just…” My words drifted off as my mind returned to Etie. Was yesterday morning the last time I’d ever see him?
The recessed lighting above flickered, and the microwave cut on. My mother jumped and raced over to cut it off.
“That was weird.” A dry laugh slipped out as she shuffled back to her plate on the counter. Her gaze bored into my grandmother.
Unfortunately, Abuela’s dark eyes were on me. “How’s Étienne, niña?”
My brows knit. “Fine,” I slowly drawled. Why did she care?
She tucked a strand of silver hair behind her ear. “You two are getting along, right?”
My mother dropped her fork loudly. “I still don’t know why you got her a job with those…boys.” She snatched her empty plate and deposited it in the sink.
Abuela massaged her forehead with her fingertips. “Ay, dios mío, Erica. It’s not a big deal and—”
“Yes, it is,” she hissed, cutting my grandmother off.
Marisol shot me a wide-eyed, questioning glance.
I shrugged. There was no reason behind our mother’s clear dislike of the Benoit brothers.
My mom flicked the water on and grabbed a dishrag, forcibly scrubbing her plate. “You could at least explain it to me.”
Abuela’s jaw ticked. “I will…later,” she ground out.
Tension thickened the air, and the vein in my mother’s neck pulsed. “How about now?”
“Ven aca.” Abuela yanked the rag from my mom’s hands and tossed it in the sink. “Let’s go have a talk my little gringa.” She clutched her arm, towing her out of the room.
“What the hell was that about?” Marisol mumbled as she watched them disappear.
“No idea.” I went back to playing with my food.
She scoffed. “Aren’t you curious? It was obviously something about you.”
I gave another noncommittal shrug. Following them to eavesdrop seemed pointless when tomorrow I was a goner.
“You’re acting so weird.” Marisol flipped her hair to her other shoulder. The late afternoon sun glinted off her necklace, casting an image on the counter.
An image of three crescent moons.
My head snapped in her direction. There, hanging from her neck was that interlocking moon symbol.
What. The. Hell?
Why did this stupid symbol show up every time I turned around? First on the website, then in the store, in the attic, and now on my sister. What was next? Was I going to find it branded on my ass?
“Where did you get that?” My skin buzzed at the memory of being shocked at Madame Monnier’s.
Marisol plucked it from her chest, running a finger over the moons. Clearly, it didn’t zap her or give her the same foreboding feeling. “I think I got it from Abuela.”
My brow rose. “Abuela?”
She shrugged. “I borrowed it a long time ago. She never asked for it back.”
“I’ve never seen her wear anything like that before.” I would have noticed a crescent moon pendant.
Lines creased her forehead. “Maybe it’s not Abuela’s. Maybe it was Mom’s.” She shook her head. “I can’t remember. It was a long time ago.” She dropped it and returned to her plate, devouring another bite of rice.
The sickly sweet scent of cigars hit the air, and my body stiffened. The toxic
taste of rum followed.
Blood drained from my face, and my limbs froze with icy fear. I knew what was coming. I knew who was coming.
Faint drumbeats proceeded Baron Samedi’s deep, ominous laughter. I swallowed hard as he appeared in a cloud of sinister smoke behind Marisol’s stool. The top hat was askew as usual, and the crimson scarf fluttered in a phantom wind.
Marisol continued eating. She didn’t even flinch.
“Eve-angel-ine,” he crooned. “Nice to see you again.” Pearly white teeth gleamed against his dark skin.
I remained stock-still, holding my breath. My eyes darted from Marisol to him, afraid of uttering a word and looking psychotic.
That was the least of my problems. Who cared if my sister thought I was nuts?
Laughter curled from the baron’s mouth, puckering my flesh. “Oh, don’t worry, cher. She can’t hear us.” He motioned a dark hand toward Marisol who was oblivious to the dangerous voodoo loa behind her.
“What do you want?” I hated the tremble in my voice.
“You know what I want.” He tapped his wrist as if he wore a watch. “Time is almost upon us. Your eighteenth year approaches.” Those dark eyes flared, and for an instant, they flickered with hellfire. “You will hand over your gwo-bon ange.”
Cramps rippled through my stomach, worsening with each breath. Giving up my soul to the voodoo king was the last thing I wanted to do, but I had no choice. Etie couldn’t save me.
No one could.
I swallowed the sickness oozing up my throat. “Get out.”
Instead of retreating, the baron leaned closer. Cigar smoke drifted between his teeth, and his breath reeked of rum. “And just so you know, if that pouvior bokor even tries to get in my way…” Those dark eyes flashed crimson again as he spared Marisol a fleeting but meaningful glance.
Pinpricks of ice tattooed my skin. I didn’t like where this was going. I didn’t like the way he inched closer to my sister.
He took another pull from the never-ending cigar. White curls of smoke encircled Marisol, slithering around her body like ghostly binds. “You break your end of the deal, and I’ll break mine.”
My breathing ceased, as did my heart. The drums that accompanied the voodoo king grew distant. The kitchen spun. All I could think about was the moment I found out my big sister was going to die.