Wicked Game (24 page)

             
But he was already fading, his skin becoming translucent. Before her fingers could slip through he released her and retreated, his black eyes burning brightly with lust, the last part of him to dwindle. She watched, refusing to look away, wanting to see him for every last second that she could. He was withdrawing into the shadows, into a place that she couldn't follow, his eyes on her all the way, still glowing with everything he felt for her, everything she felt in return.

             
He gave her a wicked smirk.

             
“Remember...if you ever get bored you can summon me again,” he purred, very much reminding her of his old, arrogant, charming self, especially when he winked playfully at her.

             
But their game was at an end.

             
She gave a short laugh, tears trickling down her cheeks, all the emotion he evoked bubbling up to the surface and making it hard to breath. She wanted to cry and sing, and weep, and laugh, and love and be happy.

             
Her happiness was fading as Kaden did. He was so faint now, so distant and beyond her reach, like a ghostly imprint on the earth, one that couldn't last forever. His image vanished right before her eyes, but just before his essence dispersed she heard three very quiet, very heartfelt words on the breeze.

             
“I love you...”

             
And then it was just her, silence and shadows.

Epilogue

It had been six months since Hazelle had first summoned him.

              Kaden spent his eternity wandering through lonely and inhospitable caverns of hell, the blistering heat fanning flames on his skin, reminding him of the passion he'd shared with the mortal woman back on earth, the one he craved every day, every night, every moment. He ignored the other calls of desperate women, spurning them all, woman squirming with lust, women that worshipped him, women that begged for his attention and special skills. No other demon could do it for them. No other demon could satisfy their every perverted desire.

             
Just as no other human would ever be able to do it for him again.

             
Kaden found he had no passion, not for them, not for anyone or anything that crossed his path in hell. His lust, his appetite for life had been left on earth with a certain infuriating, infatuating golden haired angel who had slowly crept into his heart, into his mind, into his soul and taken root there, not like an unwanted weed but like a flower, beautiful and blooming with promise, tormenting him, enchanting him, captivating him with her grace, her devotion, with the beauty she didn't even believed she possessed.

             
And though that flower was wilting without her light he wouldn't let it die. He treasured it, admired it, would protect it with everything he was, everything he could ever be.

             
The days were long, the nights even longer and crueller without sex to distract him. He had always used it as a crutch to sate his own burning cravings, pleasuring the women, indulging them in their every desire but ultimately using them to his own advantage, much the way Chris had with Hazelle. His blood bubbled with rage when he thought of that, of any harm coming to her. When he managed to claw his way through the fabric of reality and catch brief glimpses of her he saw that she was safe, miserable, but safe. She didn't smile anymore. He could see the desolation in her eyes, knew the sense of her loss, the grief of his absence because he felt it too, for her, wherever he went, whatever he did, like a constant ache, one he knew couldn't be quelled with simple sex.

             
He missed her, more than he could ever admit to anyone around him, more than he dared admit to himself. He had dropped the not-so-sutble hint about being summoned again, and though he didn't hear her call he felt her need across all of time and space. If she had called, if she had cast the spell he would have been at her side in an instant, would have taken her in his arms and showed her just how much he missed her.

             
But she didn’t, so he couldn't and he was left to roam hell, praying for the day he would forget her, the day she would forsake him and end his torment.

             
That day didn't come. Instead, while dining one night on raw flesh and wine mixed with virgin's blood, he felt a tickle in his heart, something familiar mingled with something new and he knew it was no whore, no lonely housewife that summoned him.

             
It was
her.

             
He embraced the magic wholeheartedly, allowing it to lead him to her. He materialised in the basement, completely naked, candlelight gleaming on his already swollen manhood. She was there, knelt in the centre of the pentagram, head bowed and eyes closed, her hair longer and lighter, her skin tanned from summer. Little else had changed about her. She stood up, her eyes still closed, as if afraid to look up, should the spell have failed, should she had summoned the wrong demon.

             
“Hazelle...” he said quietly, not wanting to startle her.

             
She opened her eyes and looked up at him then, her eyes so bright, so blue he was lost in them, lost to his lust. He lunged at her, sweeping her up in his arms, kissing her with such fever that she was gasping.

             
Oh, how he had missed this, how he had missed her, the touch of her, the taste of her, the softness of her skin and the fire of her lips. His emotions soared, re-ignited by the closeness of her, by the aching need he felt in her, the same demanding need he felt in himself.

             
“Why did you summon me?” he asked quickly, needing to know, needing to know how long they had together.

             
“I thought I'd treat myself for my birthday.”

             
“When is your birthday?”

             
She gave a shrewd smile. “Yesterday.”

             
Kaden just stood there, stunned by her cunning.

             
“Clever little witch,” he purred, kissing her again.

             
A whole three hundred and sixty-four days together before he had to return to hell, before he had to abandon her again, before she had to think of another excuse to summon him.

             
But there would be time enough in the future to think of that. Right now all he wanted to do was live for the moment, love her for the moment. He picked her up, eager to be inside of her, to have her naked and panting beneath him, his member stiffening again at the thought, the memory of her warm breasts and delicious curves, the taste of her sex on his tongue. He carried her upstairs to her bedroom where he pleasured her, putting all of his reserved efforts and energies into making her scream.

             
It didn't take long.

             
“I love you,” Hazelle moaned, “Oh god, I love you. I should have told you before. I'm so sorry.”

             
“I know,” he said huskily, plunging into her again.

             
The night passed in a passion of heat, hands, tongues and lips as the darkness waned and sunlight touched the sky they spent the day in each other arms, making love over and again.

THE END

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And read on for a sneak peak at my next book, Dark Ruby.

It was in the middle of this dance, during the most intimate part, that Ruby felt the harrowing coldness of death.

She jerked her head to the side, dreading what she would see. There wasn’t much to see through the mass of spinning couples and brightly coloured costumes as the pace escalated. She and Edward continued to twirl, Edward not realising that she was distracted or that they didn’t move as smoothly as they had a moment before. The frost crept into her heart, the same sensation she felt every time Anton was near. It bewildered her, disorientated her, made everything hazy. The masks mocked her, people laughed menacingly, the costumes no longer fun and creative, now macabre and scary, as if the creatures themselves had come to life and hungered for her blood, resurrected by the presence of the greatest legendary creature of them all.

The music reverted to the steady cry of violins and Ruby craned her neck over feathered masks and hats to scan the
ballroom. There was a man, one she had not seen before. He was dressed from head to toe in black. A black leather mask concealed his identity from her, enormous wings sprouting from his back, more like the wings of a bird than a bat. The masked stranger was smirking but there was something about the angles of his face that made him seem familiar, like somebody she should recognise instinctively. Two of his top teeth were very long and very sharp, sliding over dead white lips and indenting the flesh on either side, confirming everything that she had feared.

Mind reeling, Ruby fought to keep a grip on her wits and balance as she swayed, committed to not giving the game away. She felt the cold, crippling knowledge that death was in her house, in her home, spying on her, desiring her. Death had come to dispose of everyone she loved and make her watch.

And yet the man in black did not move. He stood alone, detached from everyone around him, watching her dance with eyes like midnight sin. His smile had dissipated and his face was impassive, without emotion, with nothing she could gauge. She’d imagined this, dreamt it, feared it, planned for it but now he was here in the flesh and she was powerless. Her terror was there for him to see, to savour, to use to his advantage. 

The song couldn’t have ended any sooner for
her. Ruby wanted to run from death, to hide away and pray it would leave her be but she knew death would follow her. It would pursue her to the ends of the earth and beyond even that. She might be able to use that to her advantage, to lure it away from innocent humans and spare countless lives by her sacrifice.

Thanking Edward for the dance she mumbled shyly and made an excuse about talking to an old friend, something believable. Edward informed her he had mingling of his own to do and asked her for the last dance of the evening. She told him maybe, much to his disappointment, and left it at that. As she walked off the dance floor she realised the man in black had vanished. The chill that
'd penetrated her soul lingered, meaning death was close by, its visit not over quite yet.

Very few people knew about the hall of mirrors behind the false wall, a place that had always enchanted her as a child. She didn’t stop to think of how the man in black knew about it. He seemed to know everything. Nobody noticed her as she slipped through the small gap concealed by a curtain and into the passage of glass. Golden candelabras on the walls flickered with flame, the mirrors reflecting the light and making Ruby’s vision shimmer like the stars. She relaxed her senses, letting them magnify, trusting them to guide her. This was the route the man in black had taken. Tendrils of his coldness teased her skin and his scent was breath-taking, like that of fresh winter snow mingled with exotic spices, an intoxicating combination. He was using everything he had,
everything he was to lure her here.

She found him, leaning against a mirror, black feathers crushed against glass. When she paused he turned his head to her and smiled a subtle, mysterious smile that made her heart stop beating. It was quieter here somehow, like a distant dream, and though she was only separated from humans by glass she felt disconnected from them, from everything. She feared she might never be able to go back. The man in black could create his own world, a world where only he and Ruby existed, where nobody could touch her but him. It was hazy around the edges and she was bemused
by it, taking deep breaths to keep her grip on a reality that was quickly slipping through her fingers.

She could handle this; she
could
, if she didn’t surrender to him. It was a difficult thing to do when a vampire was looking at her like
that.
His smile widened, fangs still retracted. Ruby trembled, her heart fluttering like the wings of a butterfly. She had been wrong to compare the way Edward made her feel to the way Anton could make her feel.

“
You are the most enchanting human ever,” Anton admitted passionately, his voice as deep and melodic as the diminished music.

Ruby didn’t know what to say.

“I have seen many beautiful women throughout history; I have
been
with many beautiful women throughout history. Not a single one of them compares to your grace, your sweetness...your innocence.”

He pushed off from the glass.

“I do hope you like the dress,” he said with another smirk.

So, it had been a gift from him. Ruby wondered if it came with a price she could pay.

He was there so suddenly, before she could think, before she could blink, and his hand stroked her cheek as he smiled the docile, content smile he always used when he was touching her, when she wasn’t resisting him. It was so different from his withering glares and scornful sneers. 

She found her voice at last.

“What are you doing here Anton?” she sighed wearily. They had been through this performance so many times that she knew it off by heart. His love for her, her loathing for him, his charms and her weakness. It was becoming repetitive and tiresome.

“
You dance magnificently,” his voice was soft and awed and then it darkened, “It is a shame you could not find a better partner.”

Ruby was indignant. “If you mean yourself I-”

“Silence,” Anton said smoothly, pressing a long, white finger to her lips.

It did the trick. She swallowed her own words. All she could think about now was his flesh against hers, how cold it was, how solid it was, how
real it was. It still amazed her how a creature such as him could exist, how they hadn’t been hunted by humans to extinction or abolished by God, how he had spent so many years in the coffin, starving and rotting, waiting for a death that would never be granted. It mystified her how he hadn’t succumbed to insanity, when so many in his place would have. Perhaps delusions of love were his form of lunacy. A demon devoted to a human was absurd, after all.

“
Dance with me,” Anton requested, voice husky with desire, eyes wide and imploring.

The monster was not in his eyes. They were calm, considerate and entirely for her.

Ruby didn’t give him permission though didn’t struggle one bit as he took her hand, guiding her body closer to his, closer than close, one of his arms circling around her waist, claiming her. A new song began, one she did not know. The notes were long and mournful, echoing in her heart, so sad they made her want to weep.

S
he didn’t. Instead she danced like she had never danced before, keeping perfect time with Anton, forgetting everything else. It was like falling into another one of her dreams, one not perverted by darkness and despair. It was beautiful, misty and muddled but somehow, just for now, that didn’t matter. It didn’t matter at all.

Anton drew her to him, using his eyes as leverage. He did something strange to her, a jumble of dissimilar emotions he could make her feel all at once,
all of them contradictory. When they were apart she could hate him freely, curse his name, find his pestering insufferable. When he was close she could sense him before she saw him and was intrigued by his past, by the man he had been when he was alive. When he touched her she was enthralled by him, by his dark beauty, by his origins, by his odd affections and the way he treated her so delicately, like a little bird, her wings so easily broken. If his control slipped, even for a second, he could hurt her much more than any human ever could.

She closed her eyes, sinking deeper into the music and into Anton. Resting her head against his shoulder she sighed, harmony coursing through her. He welcomed it, raining heartfelt kisses so tenderly on her neck. Ruby was not afraid for the fate of her throat, she was frightened for the throats of others but as long as he was here, with her, so serene, so enchanted by her then he couldn’t hurt them. He couldn’t touch them.

Relax. I did not come here to eat.

She believed him completely, the last of the tension expelled from her body. She didn’t know why but right then, right there, she trusted him. It was as if he were a mortal man holding the woman he cherished, dancing with her, trying to make her happy, dedicated to fulfilling her every wish and desire. Ruby knew how much he wanted to please her. He strived to make her want him, and a part of her did, though she would never admit to it. If she despised him
absolutely she wouldn’t be here, like this, so tranquil in their private world of music and mirrors.

She found she didn’t
even need to use words.

What are you supposed to be?

An angel.

But angels have white wings.

Not fallen ones.

Ruby opened her eyes and lifted her head. They stopped swaying. He gazed down at her, eyes bright with longing, with everything he felt for her and because of her. This was the furthest away he had been from the monster and it mystified her.

“Why do you think you love me?” she asked softly, “I still do not understand.”

“
I love you because you are human. So mortal, so delicate, so delicious.”

He caressed her cheek again.

“You laugh. You cry. You sleep, you eat, you breathe,” he explained, pausing before pressing his hand to her heart. “You love.”

Ruby opened her mouth to contradict him, the words stalling
in her throat.

“
You are life and light.” His voice deepened. “You are the only light I can abide.”

“
So it’s all about you?” Ruby was exasperated, the magical moment ruined.  She couldn’t trust him. His spellbinding eyes had made her forget what he was, what he had done, what he would do.

“
No.” He gave a short laugh of disbelief. “It’s about
you.
”

He stroked a curl from her cheek and teased it gently.

“It’s all about you.”

He was honest, if nothing else. It
was
all about her. She had suggested grave robbing, she had intimidated her sisters into it, she had cut herself and revived Anton with her blood. Everything he did now, all the people he murdered; it was all because of her. He enjoyed killing, and thought mortals meaningless. He had forgotten long ago what it was to be human.

“
Why do you kill the villagers?” she demanded, stomach squirming when she remembered the blood on his lips in the meadow, “Why do you kill
them
if it is all about
me
?”

Anton scowled. Ruby knew she was swimming in dangerous waters. His eyes were like sunless pools of chipped ice.

“
I need to eat, Ruby.”

             
His voice was cool, dispassionate with an edge of indiscriminating darkness. She knew she should stop, shouldn’t push him any further, shouldn’t play with dead things.

“
Why don’t you take the blood you need from animals?” she suggested meekly.

As an animal lover she would feel sorry for their suffering but a few dead rabbits were better than a dead human, a mother or father, a son or daughter, someone who would be missed because of Anton’s
insatiable appetite.

Anton snorted.

“What?” Ruby fumed, “Are animals not good enough for the vampire extraordinaire, the great Anton Black?”

He frowned.

“Do not mock me Ruby,” he said harshly, “I refrain from hurting these people by your wishes, and your wishes alone. Do not force me to do something that you will regret.”

Anton growled deep in his throat, the sound vibrating through her. She saw his eyes had changed, no longer lucid and loving, now alert and angry, trying to restrict the beast that raged inside, screaming for blood, for retribution. The points of his fangs pricked his lower lip as it quivered with restraint.

She yanked herself from his grasp when his grip loosened. He was letting her go. Her hands were shaking so much and she felt like ripping the wings from her back throwing them at his face. It repulsed her to know they had been paid for with blood money. Her heart hammered with anguish and anger at herself for being so easily deceived by his pretty gifts and faithful eyes.

It had been a trick. It had been a trap.

It had all been lies.

And she had fallen for them, like a leaf obeying the laws of winter, like one of his fallen angels, she had fallen far.