Wicked Game (15 page)

She knocked on Kaden’s bedroom door. There was no reply. She knocked again.

“
Go away,” the sullen voice snapped. She smiled slightly, feeling the need for some revenge.

“
It’s time for breakfast,” she sang chirpily, knowing her cheerfulness would irritate him.

“
I have a headache.”

“
It’s not my fault you can’t hold your liquor. Besides, I thought you were here to do my bidding. To fulfil my every wish and desire. Get up or I will be contacting your superiors.”

It wasn’t a serious threat, and he knew it, but he slouched into the kitchen ten minutes later as she was cooking breakfast, fully clothed, his hair still
tousled. There were dark shadows underneath his eyes, the golden glow of his skin having waned and he moved slowly and cautiously, as if he ached. She hoped he hadn’t broken or sprained anything during one of his tumbles last night, and wondered if he wasn't exaggerating all this for sympathy. She couldn’t exactly tell a demon to man up.

“
Did you have fun last night then?” she asked, hinting at what she'd been curious about.

He blinked twice. “I must have done.”

“I’m surprised you found your way back. I’ve never seen a human so drunk, never mind a demon.”

“
It was your smell that attracted me,” he admitted awkwardly, and then he frowned, “It must have been.”

“
My smell?”

A sly smile slipped onto his lips as he skulked towards her, his black eyes glistening, every inch of him screaming seduction. He just didn’t give up.

“Your smell,” he said huskily, wrapping an arm around her, drawing her close and brushing his nose against her neck, over the curve of her throat, inhaling the scent of her skin, “Is more intoxicating than any liquor. More enchanting than any charm. It is unmistakable, unforgettable and irresistible.”

“
Oh?” she said lightly, her legs starting to feel weak. There was no denying he had a way with words.

“
You smell like strawberries and cream.”

“
That would be my shampoo.”

“
It’s more than that. You smell like hot honey, like summer sunshine, like life itself.”

He breathed in her aroma deeply, sighing with satisfaction.

“I think you’re still drunk,” she said cynically, trying to wriggle out of his grasp, the bacon burning. He let her go.

“
Why do you do that?” he asked sullenly, scowling at her. His face was so sour, more like a spurned lover than an all-powerful, all sexual and sensual demon.

“
Do what?”

“
Try and ruin it. Every time.”

She blushed, giving him no answer, turning back to the stove so that he wouldn’t see the tears sliding down her cheeks. She knew why she did it, it was a natural reaction, defensive, instinctive not to believe him, not to trust him, not to take to heart anything he said because it was all a part of his master plan, all a piece of the puzzle, all a ruse to get her into bed so he could fuck her and leave her.

She couldn’t let him see her cry. She couldn’t, she couldn’t, she couldn’t…

As it was she didn’t have to. He strode from the kitchen without a word, and she heard him stomping up the stairs and the sound of his bedroom door crashing shut. She relaxed then, the tears drying up. If he wanted to sulk then so be it. She didn’t have to put up with his endless jibes, with his mocking of her emotions, with his disdain for human morals and mortal weaknesses. She dumped the charred bacon into the
trash can, having lost all her appetite, and retreated to her own room, fuming.

It stayed that way for the rest of the week, she avoiding him and he avoiding her, neither of them in the same room together for more than a couple of minutes. They exchanged little more than harsh glances and a few polite, stiff words. She knew she had been behaving antagonistically towards him.
It wasn’t her fault, it was natural instinct when anyone tried to charm their way into her knickers, especially someone who was trying to use her, who was going to abuse her, who was going to leave her wallowing in confusion, self-hatred and degradation. She wouldn’t let him do that to her. She wouldn’t be a puppet, not to him, not to any man.

She went to work as usual, needing something normal that didn’t revolve around demons and curses. Sophie had returned and was chattering about her vacation, gushing about her fiancé, showing her photos. Hazelle smiled, nodded and gave the generic responses and compliments at the appropriate times, still much too distracted by her thoughts and fears, still seething about Kaden wanting her to play along with his plans, with the charade that they could be civilised, that he wanted her for something more than just sex.

The only thing she was grateful about was that Chris didn’t contact her. Not once. She didn’t get any calls from him, didn’t spy him spying on her, didn’t receive any threatening messages or booby-trapped gifts in disguise. As far as she was concerned he had fallen off the face of the earth and nothing could have made her happier. Well, maybe one thing, but there was no chance in hell that she was ever going to get that.

On Thursday night her mother informed her that David had invited them out to dinner again on Friday night. The tone of her voice when she was notifying Hazelle told her that she had little choice but to accept, and play the role of the dutiful daughter she usually was. It wouldn’t do well to make a bad impression, for her mother or her boss.
Then she watched in horror as mom invited Kaden too, who only grunted, a non-committal reply, but a reply nonetheless. It was hard enough to be in his company for a few seconds, let alone for an entire meal. Kaden hadn’t given any indication to her mom that they weren’t on talking terms or she would have most certainly poked her nose in and started playing matchmaker by now.

Hazelle spent the next day trying to invent a believable excuse for missing the meal her mother’s heart was so set on. It would be far too excruciating to sit next to Kaden, pretending everything was alright, when she knew it was not. She couldn’t think up any lie that sounded conceivable and so resigned herself to her fate, donned her little black dress again and applied make-up, dreading the night ahead and the demon downstairs.

Kaden was in the lounge, dressed in his stylish suit, sprawled on the couch as if he didn’t have a care in the world. David was there too, with a glass of whisky, looking sheepish. Did he detect the tension between her and Kaden?

It was only when David moved and his whisky shone amber in the firelight that Hazelle thought of an excuse nobody could argue with.  

“I’m sorry, I have a headache,” she said delicately, closing her eyes and touching her forehead gently, feigning wooziness, “I think I should give tonight a miss.”

“
Oh that’s a shame sweetie,” Mom said empathetically, walking over to Hazelle and pressing the back of her hand tenderly to her daughter’s forehead, “You do have a slight temperature. Maybe we should do this another night…”

“
No!”  Hazelle said quickly, and then she changed her tone when Kaden turned suspicious eyes on her, “I mean, I don’t want anyone to miss out on my account. I will be fine on my own. I’ll take some pain killers and have an early night.”

“
Are you sure?” Mom looked unconvinced.

“
I’m sure. I will be fine.”

She gave an insipid smile, genuinely feeling a little light headed and more than a little anxious about what she was going to do in their absence. Kaden didn’t so much as glance at her again before he left with her mother and David, leaving Hazelle to her own devices. She peeked behind the curtain and watched the car speed away and again locked the door for reassurance. She knew locked doors wouldn’t keep Kaden out but she hoped mom and David could keep him distracted for long enough.

She gathered what she needed, having just enough left over from the last spell to be able to penetrate Kaden’s defences. She didn’t know how different a demon's mind was from a human’s. She suspected she wouldn’t be able to manipulate his thoughts, or implant any of her own, but she might be able to get a glimpse into his distorted soul, into the enigma of his mind and conscience that taunted her night and day.

Her hand trembled as she lit the candles, the residue of her first pentagram still visible of the floor. No amount of scrubbing or paint stripper had been able to remove it, as if her sin would stain it forever. The basement was a place her mother hardly ever went, and a place Kaden had no reason to be.
It would be her little secret.

She mixed the spell ingredients, taking her time again, trying to focus.
This time her anger distracted her. This might be the key to answering a few questions that made him so frustrating. She'd taken a hair from Kaden’s pillow, one that shone red and gold in the candlelight, and couldn’t be mistaken with one of her own.

When the black smoke came, thick and clogging her own mind, she closed her eyes instinctively, knowing what was expected of her, welcoming the smoke and letting it wash through her, leaving nothing untouched. When she opened her eyes she saw that the mind of a demon was infinitely different to that of a mortal. Everything glittered like ice, quickening around her, swirls of colour that captured her,
spiriting her away. It was like being inside Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory, so many sights, so many sounds, so many tastes and textures that it made her head spin. She saw his past, women he’d lain with in castles, inns, brothels and even stables, women whose hearts he had shattered, women who’d given him their virtue in exchange for hot, heart-stopping sex. Quite literally.

She’d seen Kaden at action through her own eyes in the dreams but it was strange seeing him from this vantage point, watching the scenes unfold like some seedy porn movie, with her as an uninvited guest star. She felt slightly sleazy and a bit queasy watching women writhe with pleasure and
plead for more of his touch, remembering how she herself had responded to his touch in her dreams, how she had started to respond to his touch in reality.

Probing further into his complex mind she saw other memories buried deep down, the dark, thorny tangles, like the one she had seen plague Chris’s mind. These were much worse than stalking and blackmail, they were bloodshed, death, murder. Gashes of red like claws slashing shadow, some of the memories stained red with the blood of the women he had seduced and killed. She’d known he was dangerous, he’d told her that much himself, but despite his imposing hostility and flickers of wickedness she’d never before seen any hard evidence of it...until now. There was no denying the satisfaction of his face when he tasted blood taken by force, when he felt the victim’s life force ebbing away. He always got his kicks from
sex, but taking their life was like an extra tip, the cherry on top.

Horrified, Hazelle recoiled from the shadows, tendrils of dark smoke snaking out to snatch her again and drag her back, deep down into dark, despicable discoveries. She snubbed them, eluded them somehow, focusing instead on the glowing globes of golden light, gateways to memories that shimmered like sunlight on rippling water. In these iridescent pools of light she saw herself, not the same way she did in the mirror, but the way he saw her, through his own eyes, the eyes of a demon. She was a small, fascinating, delicate looking mortal with hair that tumbled down her back in shades of wheat and honey gold, with eyes as blue as forget-me-nots and a fierce expression, one of strength, resilience, one that made her look beautiful, almost desirable. Was this how he truly saw her? Did she always have such a stubborn expression on her face and a defiant gleam in her eyes?

Then she was actually seeing through his eyes, at that very moment in time, able to peer out and see her mother sat with David, drinking white wine and laughing at a joke David had just told them. Kaden saw Christine as beautiful too, though nowhere near as captivating as her daughter.

“
So, is there anything going on between you and my daughter that I should know about?” Mom asked sneakily. Hazelle mentally cringed, realising her mother was already tipsy and remembering how loose her tongue could be after a few glasses of wine.

“
She is a lovely young lady,” David interjected, “Any man would be lucky to have her.”

“
I do like Hazelle, yes… but I do not always think that she likes me,” Kaden sounded petulant, his voice coming through the loudest and clearest, resonating all around Hazelle in the dome of his mind.

“
I have seen that tell-tale glint in her eye, and I’ve never seen it before in her eyes. She likes you; she just doesn’t know how to show it. She’s been through a lot in the past, I won’t go into detail but its left her shy and uncertain with men.”

“
She doesn’t have to be shy with me. I like her just the way she is.”

“
Glad to hear it.” Mom smiled appreciatively.

Hazelle was mystified and a little miffed, instead of flattered like any other women might have been at such a compliment. She couldn’t help thinking that he was saying what her mom wanted to hear, like he had told all those women he’d fucked and killed what they’d wanted to hear before he’d done the deed. But when he’d said her name Hazelle couldn’t fail to notice how the golden lights had flared, glowing brighter than anything else, caressing her and chasing away the darkness that was trying to steal her
back. Did he speak the truth? Or was this another ploy?