Wicked Game (23 page)

“
I've seen some jealous men in my time,” Kaden drawled, shoving Chris away when he made another desperate grab at Hazelle, “I've
been
with some jealous lovers in my time. But none as pathetic as you, or as ugly.”

             
Chris screeched, a sound like nails on a chalkboard, clawing at Kaden's eyes. Kaden swatted him away as though he were nothing more than a bug, no more threatening than a knat.

             
“You forced yourself upon this woman, you tried to take away all the pleasure for her, tried to make it all about yourself. Sex is about passion, giving it and receiving it. You must be one sad fucking coward to get off on terrorising a woman, little more than a girl. She deserves better than that. Better than both of us.”

             
Kaden glanced back at Hazelle, his face pensive, something humble and almost haunting in his dark eyes, as solemn and serious as she had ever seen them. She had never seen him so regretful, so remorseful, so close to being human. Even in his current diabolic demon state he looked much more human than Chris.

             
The corpse gargled something and spat a glob of black blood at Kaden. Kaden wiped it from his brow with a weary sigh then crushed the other side of Chris's face with a blow that sent him flying through the air, landing on the mound of earth that was his very own grave. Hands burst from beneath the earth, grasping and grubby with grave dirt, hands in varying stages of decay, hands grey with bandages, hands missing fingers, hands green with gunk and hands stripped to the bone. The hands of hell groped at Chris, gripping his mangled limbs in a vice-like grip of final judgement as he struggled, shrieking and screaming and spluttering incoherent curses and threats, his face a mush of bone and flesh and blood. Hazelle knew he wouldn't have chance to carry any of them out.

Kaden strode to the grave and gripped Chris's throat, pushing him deeper into the earth and towards his doom. Chris screamed, lifting his head, trying to throw the hands off so he could attack Kaden but more hands exploded from the earth, seizing every part of his putrid body, trying to drag him down into the black bowels of hell below, where he belonged, where the flames of retribution would fry his twisted soul for all eternity and purge him of his wickedness. Hazelle watched on with a weird sense of justice, where before she might have shield away from such a violent, bloody act of cruelty. Chris and Kaden had changed her; made her stronger, able to accept the inevitable. As much as it hurt, as much as she would ache when Kaden was gone she knew it had to be this way.

              Kaden's shirt and skin were filthy now, smeared with mud and deacying black blood. Chris's stinking corpse was sinking below him, embraced by the earth, carrying Kaden with it. Remembering that she needed Kaden to revive her in real life she ran at him, wrapped her arms around his back and tugged. With a final shriek that would haunt Hazelle forever Chris vanished but the hands wanted Kaden too, recognising him, realising he belonged in hell with them, with Chris. Kaden fought them, gritting his teeth, trying to break their hold. He seemed weakened by them. Hazelle darted round to the front and reached out, wrenching the hands away, screaming at him, crying for him, trying with all her might to drag him back from the brink.

             
I want to live...I want to live...and I'm not ready to lose you just yet.

             
“Fight,” she growled in his ear, “Please, fight. For me. For us.”

             
The hopeless, finite expression on Kaden's face faded and was replaced by a grim resolve. He gave a nod and that was when she knew he wasn't going to give up on her, just like she wasn't going to give up on him. Together they worked as a team, human and demon, mortal and immortal, the summoner and the summoned. But they had become so much more than that, so much more than the universe could ever allow them to be without suffering repercussions. Kaden had saved her, and this was a price that neither of them were willing to pay. They managed to free him from the hands and they sank back into the earth as Kaden fell back, Hazelle landing on top of him.

             
Chris was gone...for good.

             
And Kaden is still here.

             
The demon laughed wildly, though his eyes showed he was more bemused than amused. Hazelle tensed, wondering if he was mad, if something in him had snapped, if the hands had affected him in some way and being closer to hell had stirred the darkness in him. She had no reason to worry when his arms came around her, holding her close to him, his warm breath tickling the top of her head.

             
“You're safe now,” he murmured, giving a content sigh.

             
“Yes,” she agreed, closing her eyes and breathing in the soothing, spicy scent of him, feeling so tranquil. But then she opened her eyes and shook her head. “No. You need to get back and resuscitate me, remember? I don't want to die today.”

             
In a flash she was on her feet, Kaden having set her down, his eyes focused again, determined, devoted, dedicated to saving her from the cold clutches of death again.

             
“How do we leave?” Hazelle asked urgently.

             
Kaden didn't answer. He pressed his clawed hand to her unbeating heart and brought his lips to hers in a life-saving kiss.

*~*~*

The first thing Hazelle felt through the darkness was warm lips massaging the life back into her own. She clung to them, savouring their softness, their sweetness, the taste of honey and spices that made her tongue tingle.

             
When Hazelle opened her eyes she was half surprised to still see Kaden, worried he might vanish the second her heart started beating again, his purpose fulfilled, the conditions of the spell met.

             
But he was still there, still solid, still touchable and touch him she did, rubbing a bulging bicep before stroking his face, looking into ravenous, pitch black eyes, swollen with starvation, though she knew he wasn’t hungry for food. He never was. He reclaimed her lips, kissing her deeply, his hands drawing her close, closer than close, as if he was trying to fuse their flesh and become one with her. She felt his engorged member brush her thigh, straining in his leather pants, waiting to be unleashed. She let out a shuddering gasp of arousal, filled with a sudden lust for life. Something about almost dying made her feel so very alive.

             
“I don't want you to go,” she whispered wretchedly, and then she was weeping, her tears splashing on his cheeks, “I don't want you to go...”

             
He kissed her cheeks, kissed her eyelashes, kissed her tears over and over again.

             
“I don't want to go, I don't want to go, I don't want to go...”

             
But go he must and they both knew it. He held her after, like he would never hold her again, like her cherished her more than any human ever could. She felt the sun on her skin, not as hot as him, and remembered that it wasn't over...not quite yet.

             
Her lips were still on fire when she stood up, looking down at Chris's undisturbed grave, resigned. There was no slouching corpse, no fetid fingers, no hands of hell snatching at her ankles or come to take Kaden away from her. Anyone that visited here, his mother, his sisters, his friends and family, even strangers that strolled past would never know the unrest of his spirit, would never know where he was now, screaming into a black oblivion with only demons and the other dead to hear.

             
Kaden touched her shoulder, looking down at the grave too.

             
“I'll do it,” he said simply. There was no need to elaborate.

             
Hazelle nodded, too tired to argue. She wanted to close her eyes, to forget the last few hours, the last few days, everything she had seen, everything she had felt, everything she had done and could never take back. So she left Kaden to the gruelling job of unearthing Chris's coffin under cover of darkness to burn his bones, his physical remains reflecting the fate of his soul.

Kaden didn't return till after midnight and she feared that he wouldn't return at all. As it turned out she wasn't able to sleep, too agitated, too consumed by dark thoughts and the grief of losing the one person, the one demon she could trust with her life, with her everything. He didn't say a word when he opened the bedroom door, mud clinging to every inch of him, encrusted on his golden skin, dust in his hair and the colour of his shirt indiscernible. She had showered and changed for bed and that was where she was sat, the covers pulled over her, her arms wrapped around her legs as she stared miserably into empty space.

              He walked to her slowly, his eyes concentrated on her, an understanding that needed no words flashing between them.

             
It was done. Chris was no more. Kaden's purpose had been fulfilled and after tonight, when the dawn touched the sky and chased away the darkness he would go with it. He would disappear and she would be left to deal with the gaping hole in her heart.

             
He undressed gradually, leaving his sullied clothes on the floor, his eyes never wavering from hers. When he was naked and gorgeous in all his glory he drew back the sheets and slipped in bed beside her. She cared nothing for the mud on her sheets. Sheets could be replaced, but Kaden couldn’t.

             
His face was unreadable, guarded and closed to her and she found that, for once, she couldn't see what he was thinking from the light in his eyes.

             
She was crying again, silently sobbing, tears blurring her vision. She wiped them away, wishing she wasn't so weak, so helpless, so dependable on a demon. Yet here she was, a demon in her bed, a demon in her heart, and that was just the way things were. She had to accept that, accept it like she had to accept the fact he was going away for good, that he would leave her forever and she would have to face an inevitable life of loneliness.

She didn't say anything, didn't even breath as he took her in his arms and drew her close to his chest. The sound of his beating heart was steady, deep, profound, the rhythm of it almost comforting and after so many days, so many weeks of stress, horror and harrowing nightmares she closed her eyes, the beat of his demon heart lulling her into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Chapter Fifteen

Kaden was gone.

             
Hazelle sat up slowly, clutching the sheets to her breasts, glancing around the room for any sign of the sex demon. The space he had occupied in her bed was empty, the only evidence he'd been there, the only evidence he'd even existed was a few streaks of dirt on the white linen. That's how she had once thought of him, as a dark blotch of filth made flesh, a stain on her life that she couldn't wash out, but it turned out he had been more, so much more than she ever thought he could be, perhaps much more than he ever thought he could be. He'd been her foe, her friend, her confidant, her protector...and her lover. The warmth of his embrace, the scent of his skin, the feel of him inside of her, all she had of that now was a brief smudge on her memory and some dirty sheets.

             
She couldn't cry. Not now. She was too numb, too hollow inside as if he had taken his heart with him to hell. She sat there, sunlight streaming through the windows, the golden light pooling around her with a warmth that reminded her so much of his tawny skin, his hot flesh as it rubbed against hers in the throes of passion. She went cold with the realisation that she would never feel that heat again.

             
Still exhausted from treading in death she buried herself under the duvet, pulling it over her head, dozing, half-awake and half-asleep, miserable and alone...

             
“I thought you might like some breakfast.”

             
The arrogant drawl she'd become so accustomed to was like sweet music to her ears. She almost thought she'd imagined it until she ripped the duvet from her face and sat up so quickly it made her dizzy.

             
He was there, by her bed, naked and carrying a tray laden with eggs, bacon, and a cup of coffee. His skin was clean, his hair washed and he smelt of the strawberries and crème shampoo that she favoured. She gazed up at him in awe, in disbelief...in fear.

             
“You're still...here,” she said lamely, dazed, and then felt so stupid stating the obvious. “Am I dreaming?”

             
He calmly placed the tray on her bedside table and leant down to kiss her. His lips lingered on hers, tasting of honey and summer.

             
“You tell me,” he said playfully, giving a wicked smile before moving in for another kiss.

             
When he stepped back she saw that he looked real enough, tangible, not like the smoky, disembodied soul Chris had been on this plane and that kiss...that had been something else entirely. She stood up, reaching out to touch him, to prove to herself that he truly was still there when she hesitated, remembering how angry he had been the last time he'd been denied his freedom.

She walked around the bed. There was no blood, no smashed mirrors this time. Perhaps he was getting better at controlling his more volatile emotions. She looked back, into his eyes, hoping to find some answers there. They were hooded and endlessly dark, empty of emotion.

              “It appears I was wrong,” he said stiffly, remaining where he was.

             
Hazelle frowned. “You were?”

             
“About the reason I didn't go, about having to protect you. Apparently that wasn't the reason...or the solution. But I finally figured it out.”

             
“You did?”

             
He walked to her then, slowly and unsurely, as if not wanting to startle her. After all she had been through she didn't frighten so easily now. She watched him, puzzled, still woozy from a lack of sleep and almost dying, unable to comprehend his meaning. Something in him had changed, she realised that. Chris had tried to convince her of it otherwise but she knew in her heart that she had sparked something in Kaden. She didn't know what it meant yet, or if it was important, or even if it would last. He had touched her in ways she'd never been touched before, and she knew that she'd touched him in ways he'd never been touched before, too.

             
He stood before her, without a scrap of cloth, without a single lie to hide behind, in all his luscious, golden god like glory, every inch the insufferable, delectable demon he had been on the day she had summoned him, and so much more besides. It had been a game, a bit of fun, she never expected him to be so wicked, so sinful, so
real.

             
Yet real he was and she felt the urge to touch him again, though she was afraid that if she did he would vanish beneath her fingertips or simply fade away, without a goodbye, without a farewell, without a last kiss, without anything.

             
“Yes. I did.”

             
He reached up, pressing his hand to his own heart and then reached over slowly, touching the same one to her heart. It thrummed, beating erratically beneath his palm and she didn't know what to say, or do, or think. Kaden was gazing down at her, eyes void of all emotion, save one.

             
“No,” she whispered tersely, tearing herself away from him. The tears she'd missed earlier came to her now, falling thick and fast down her flushed cheeks. “No.”

             
He took a defiant step towards her, replacing his hand over her heart.

             
“
Yes.
”

“
No,” she snapped, looking away. She wouldn't let herself be deceived. “That's impossible. You're a demon. Demons can't love.”

             
“I know what I am,” he said harshly, his eyes flashing completely black for a second before his voice softened, “I know what I feel, Hazelle. Do you think this is easy for me? I know you think me a monster, an abomination, less worthy than any mortal man. Do you think its fun for me to see the revulsion, the fear in your eyes every time I touch you? Do you think its going to be so easy for me to leave you?”

             
She covered her ears and turned away, shaking her head, not wishing to hear anymore, to know anymore. “No. No, no, no no, no!

             
“Hazelle...” he growled and then, before she could breath he seized her shoulder, whirled her round and kissed her.

             
His lips were like sunlight on her skin, golden light coursing through her, running through her veins, leaving nothing untouched. He was opening himself up to her, letting her in and for the first time since her last spell she could sense his mind, feel his emotions entangling with her own, taste his regret and loss as they embraced physically, mentally, spiritually. There was no darkness in him now, her own golden light had conquered him, claimed him, enslaved him, mingling with the golden glitters that radiated from his thoughts about her, his memories of her, those he would cherish even when he couldn't hold her in his arms anymore.

             
He kissed her like he would never kiss her again, his lips trembling against hers with repressed desire. He picked her up bridal style and carried her to the bed, laying her on it, stripping away her pyjamas and underwear, tasting the tender flesh between her legs, teasing her breasts with his tongue, ravishing her body and caressing her heart. She was floating on air, in light, bathing in the beauty of them; the beauty they created together. As he entered her she inhaled deeply, trying to capture his scent, the memory of him inside of her, wanting to take it with her, to carrying it with her always.

Afterwards he simply held her, neither of them needing to resort to words, their minds still linked through the joyous union of their bodies. Her heart was skipping, dancing, pulsating with light, and life...and love.

*
~*~*

The pentagram was still on the basement floor, a faint, faded outlined stained with old blood, both human and demon. Hazelle should have been stood in the centre of it, where it was safest, should any hellbeasts try and sneak through and take a bite of her, but she was stood on the top point, facing Kaden, trying to memorise his face. No painting would ever be able to capture his beauty, no photograph could record the endless enchantment of his eyes, no memory could do him justice.

             
Kaden had insisted on her being there. He'd told her that he'd finally figured out what was keeping him in her world, what she had summoned him for, what he needed to do before he could be released from her service. He was still reluctant to tell her exactly what that was. He'd taken her hand and led her down into the basement, where it had begun for both of them. It seemed like centuries ago when really it had only been a month or so since she had summoned him.

             
So much had changed in such a short space of time, she had changed so much, and Kaden too. There was a light in him, one that had not been there before, one that was aching to grow, wishing to banish the darkness in him and embrace her wholly.

             
Now it wouldn't have a chance to. Not in her lifetime. It would be shunned, forsaken, buried deep down inside. Maybe another woman would be able to provoke a change in him, a woman with grace, and beauty, and endowments Hazelle would never posses. Perhaps he would be able to spread his light to others, convert other demons, redeem tormented spirits and make peace across the world. Maybe they would banish him from hell and make him a mortal outcast, or go so far as to kill him for caring for a human. Only one thing was certain in this life, that there were no certainties, no guarantees, no absolutes and no destinies.

             
Never say never.

             
She had to repeat that mantra mentally as she looked into his eyes, lost in them, trying to memorise the way they glinted ruthlessly by candlelight, how the light sometimes softened them for her, only for her. She had to resist the temptation to throw herself into his arms and beg him to take her with him, not that she believed he would, or even could.

             
She didn't belong there and he didn't belong here. That was it. That was all. Those were the honest facts, harsh and cruel as they seemed, and there was no challenging them, no changing them.

             
“How did you manage to...to reach me?” she asked, assuming he wouldn't want to confide in her any of his secrets. They hadn't broached the subject yet and this might be the last opportunity she ever had to know how it was done, how he had pierced the veils between the worlds and found her in death. The old witch had hinted at it back in the store but Hazelle wanted to hear it from his own lips, with his own tongue that had pleased her so much.

             
He touched her chest again, his fingers warm and welcome on her breast.

             
“Your heart,” he murmured, “Even as it was dying...it led me to you.”

             
“But...
how?
”

             
He removed his hand and pressed his soft lips to the skin above her heart. When he stepped back he was smiling.

             
“How do you think?”

             
Hazelle felt a flutter in her heart like the wings of a butterfly. It wanted him. It wanted to keep him. It wanted to hold him, and love him and never let him go...

             
“You said you figured it out, why you're still here? What I wanted when I summoned you?”

             
He nodded.

             
“Yes. It was only after touching your heart the way I did when I brought you back that I realised why I hadn't returned, what you really wanted from me, what no woman had wanted from me before.”

             
He leaned in closer to her.

             
“Three little words...” he whispered in her ear, making her tremble with longing, with fear, with everything.

             
“I love you.”

             
A gust of wind blew through the basement, hot and acrid, the flames of hell come to reclaim him. It ruffled her hair, blowing it in her face as she looked back at the candles and saw the light dancing, flickering with the arrival of new energy, of power beyond her control, perhaps even beyond Kaden's. She turned back to him, dizzy with the light of discovery, desperate to hold on to it, to him. To her horror she saw him smiling sadly at her, his eyes swirling whirlpools of demonic energy, shadows shifting around him, whispering to him, taking him.

             
Before she could blink he was kissing her like there was no tomorrow, and she knew for them that there wouldn't be. She would never again wake to find him in her bed, or make him breakfast, or scold him for being lude, or laugh with him or hold him. She'd dreaded this moment for so long and now it was here she didn't know what to do. She had tried to reassure herself that she was ready, that she would be fine, that she could deal with this.

             
It was a lie. She wasn't ready and she wouldn't be fine. How did she even begin to deal with this? If felt as if she was being torn in two, and half of her was going to hell. She clung to him, determined to fend of the shadows, keep them at bay with her light, kissing him fiercely with everything she had, everything she could have for a man, mortal or no.