by Ashley Jade
The Devil
Cards of Love
Ashley Jade
Contents
The Devil
The Devil Card
Please Note:
Warning:
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Preview
Cards of Love Collection
Eden’s Books
Acknowledgments
About the Author
First published in USA, November 2018
Copyright © Ashley Jade
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be circulated in writing of any publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictional manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or deceased, or events is purely coincidence.
The Devil
Cover Design: Lori Jackson at Lori Jackson Design
Editor: Ellie McLove
The Devil
“Hell is empty and all the devils are here.”
—William Shakespeare, The Tempest
Please pay attention to the Card description.
As it will be your only warning.
The Devil Card
The Devil (XV) is the fifteenth trump or Major Arcana card in traditional Tarot decks.
Meaning:
The Devil is the card of humanly desires. It represents being seduced by the material world and physical pleasures. Also living in fear, domination, and being caged by an overabundance of luxury. Discretion should be used in personal and business matters.
The Devil in Love:
The Devil also indicates sexual interests such as bondage, bisexuality, and fetishes. In its darkest form, the Devil can represent sexual slavery and obsession.
They must have you at all costs.
Depiction:
The Devil card depicts the devil as the ancient goat-god Dionysius, shown sitting on his throne while watching over a male and female captive chained naked to the podium on which the Devil sits. The lovers are slaves to their desire, urges, and raw passions. Each has small horns on their head, similar to the devil—a sign that they are becoming more and more like the devil the longer they stay. Both have tails—a further symbol of their animalistic tendencies and raw instincts.
They appear to be held against their will, but upon closer inspection, you'll notice the chains around their necks are loose.
They are free to go whenever they like.
Please Note:
This book is a prelude
And it’s best you go in blind.
Warning:
There are no heroes in this story.
Only devils
Prologue
Obsession is a peculiar thing. Unlike other emotions, it doesn’t happen instantaneously. Instead, it grows slowly—like a fungus invading the dark corners of your mind, contaminating your every thought.
Until suddenly—you’re sick. Infected with an incurable disease.
The object of your neurosis is all you can focus on.
You spend every waking moment fixated on them. Questioning what they’re doing. Who they might be thinking about.
Your evenings are spent conjuring images of them with their current lover. And your nights are spent dreaming about what it would be like to see them again.
Touch them. Taste them. Have them at your mercy…fulfilling every single desire and urge pumping through you.
Until finally…you can’t take it anymore. The lines between fantasy and reality become blurred and you start meticulously plotting strategic steps to enact your encounter.
Looking back, that’s the point my obsession spun out of control.
I should have maintained my distance. But I couldn’t.
Eleven years spent away didn’t dilute my craving—it only made it fester. My sickness was far too advanced and was only getting worse. My need for him was far too strong to be ignored or contained.
So, I continued planning. Seeking the perfect crack in his life to slip through undetected. Once I had it…the only thing left to do was wait for the perfect moment to strike.
But the thing about plans is…
They never work out like you expect them to.
Sometimes life throws you an innocent, young, blonde…curveball.
Chapter 1
Eden
“Are you excited for the annual Black Hallows Masquerade Ball this Saturday?” the reporter, interviewer, royal pain in my ass asks.
It’s all I can do not to roll my eyes. This chick has officially earned her spot on my shit-list for not only sticking me in the same vapid box as every other eighteen-year-old girl but failing to do her research.
I plaster a fake smile on my face. “Super pumped.”
Negatory. The only thing I’m excited for is watching Netflix and munching on the raw cookie dough I have a date with.
Not looking at all put off by my snark, she continues, thrusting her iPhone at me to record my response. “Is there a special boy in the picture?”
It’s too late to diffuse the question. There’s already a brutal flush creeping from my toes all the way up to my hairline.
Reporter bitch looks like the cat who ate the canary. “I knew it. Pretty girls like you never go unnoticed, do they?”
There’s an unmistakable hint of pettiness in her statement, and I know without a doubt this interview is about to go downhill fast.
Something I probably should have realized sooner given she has yet to ask me a single question about Cain’s campaign for mayor. In other words, the reason we’re having this interview in the first place.
I look around, but her next question forces my attention back to her. “Just between us girls, is it weird having a father who’s only a few years older than you?” She fans herself with the paper in her hand. “Lord knows I couldn’t live under the same roof with Black Hallows’ most eligible bachelor. Not without sleeping in his bed every night.” Her gaze turns calculating. “Then again, rumor has it, affairs with older men aren’t exactly out of the question for you.”
The implication makes me fidget. A rookie mistake.
“He’s my stepfather.” Squaring my shoulders, I find my resolve. “And he’s only Black Hallows’ most eligible bachelor because my mother is dead, you heartless bitch.”
She starts to speak, but I stand up. “This interview is over.”
“What’s going on in here?” a deep voice that sounds like melted chocolate over gravel barks from the other room.
I meet his dark eyes when he enters, refusing to look anywhere else for fear my legs will turn to jelly and the reporter will have a field day. Too late�
�my control is waning. Today Cain’s wearing his green tie that brings out the subtle flecks of gold in his orbs. Sweet baby Jesus in a manger. I’m so screwed.
Tossing my long blonde hair over my shoulder, I shrug and head for the exit. “Nothing.”
A touch to my elbow halts me and just like that—I’m spilling my guts.
“This asshole from the Independent Chronicle came here to remind me that my mother croaking made you Black Hallows’ most eligible bachelor…and because the town still hasn’t found a new whore to point fingers at, I must be spreading my legs for you.”
Like a good politician about to face a scandal, Cain releases me and turns his attention to the reporter, looking outraged. “That’s absurd. She’s my deceased wife’s daughter.”
My heart, the bruised and battered thing twists in my chest and I look at the reporter. “You can go fuck yourself.” My stare snags him again. “You too.”
A faint shiver of delight zips through me when I see his annoyance simmering beneath the surface. Good.
Maybe now he’ll understand how I’ve been feeling ever since the incident.
The one that ended with him discarding me like I was nothing more than a dirty rag, then come right back around and use me whenever it’s convenient for him.
Just like everyone else in my life.
His jaw tics. “Where’s David? I thought we all agreed he’d supervise you during these?”
“That’s funny.” I gesture between us. “We didn’t agree to anything. You told me some reporters wanted to interview me this week and said not to speak to anyone without him present.”
“Eden,” he grinds out, and I curse myself for wondering if that’s how he’d grunt my name if we finished what we started that night. “Where is he?”
I give him a big smile. “I told him to grab some lunch.” My smile falls. “You know, since I’m not a fucking child who needs a babysitter.”
With that, I march upstairs to my bedroom.
“What newspaper did you say you were from? Because you’ll be cleaning out your desk by the end of the day,” Cain booms from the living room. His voice lights every nerve ending of mine on fire, even from so far away. Until I hear the next words out of his mouth. "For fuck's sake, my wife's body isn't even cold yet. What kind of person comes into someone's home and says that shit to a kid who’s still mourning her mother.”
Locking the door behind me, I fight the urge to laugh. My mother’s been dead for over a year now, and Lord knows I haven’t spent more than a second grieving the woman who treated me like her life’s greatest mistake instead of her daughter.
Neither has Cain.
Despite him ripping the reporter a new one, anyone with a pulse knows their marriage was one hot steaming pile of bullshit.
He was twenty-five and she was thirty-nine when they got hitched—which made me—who was only fourteen at the time—closer to his age than my mother.
But given her own campaign focused on family values when she ran for District Attorney four years ago—and she had no family—other than the daughter who caused a huge scandal that year—she needed to find someone to fill the gaping hole my sperm donor left in our family portrait.
Enter Cain Carter—not one to pass up a good opportunity, even in the face of gossip and outrage—he married her. Most likely because— scandal or not—she knew all the right people. People who ironically enough, got him to where he is now.
Running for mayor and presumed to win. Which will officially make him the youngest mayor Black Hallows has ever had.
Well, as long as there aren’t any scandals in the next eleven days.
I know he’s wanted this for a while now, but to be honest; I have mixed feelings. Half my heart wants him to win because I know it’s a stepping stone to his real dream—becoming president one day. But the other half wants him to lose so it gets rid of at least one obstacle between us.
Then again, if he loses, who knows what will happen to me. As of tomorrow, I’m a legal adult, which means he’s no longer under any legal obligation to take care of me.
Shortly after my mother died in a car accident, Cain disclosed his plans to run for mayor and gave me two choices. Either I could end up a homeless teenager on the street, because my cunt of a mother didn’t leave me a dime. Or I could stay with him and he would take care of me, provided I did everything he said, played the part of the good little stepdaughter, and didn’t cause any waves during his campaign.
It was an easy choice. I’ve been in love with Cain since the moment I laid eyes on him…despite meeting him while I was at my lowest.
Unfortunately for me, he’s as straight-laced as they come, appears to give a shit about my well-being most days, and would never cross that line.
Except for that one night.
Chapter 2
Eden
Three Weeks Ago
“Didn’t know you were in here.”
I startle at the sound of his voice even though I heard the front door open followed by his footsteps.
Fumbling for the remote, I put the show I was barely paying attention to on pause and look at him.
The light from the television illuminates his tall and toned form as he rests against the entryway and I fight back a shiver.
If he didn’t enjoy politics so much, I’m positive he could have had a successful career as a model. He’s an intriguing combination of rugged and boyish good looks. Light brown hair cropped close in a style that’s suitable for business. Big brown eyes that are full of determination—like he’s always working toward the next big goal. And his chin, which is clenched in irritation more often than not, has the sexiest dimple smack dab in the center of it.
However, my absolute favorite feature of Cain’s are his lips. The man has the kind of lips women from all over the world go under the knife for. They’re full and sensuous, turning up at the corners ever so slightly to give him a perpetual smirk—like he knows how bad I want to kiss them.
“It’s Saturday night, shouldn’t you be hanging out with your friends?”
I inwardly flinch, not because of his cool tone or the slight slur coming from the booze he must have consumed tonight, but the fact that he knows damn well I don’t have many friends. Make that any.
I’m pretty much the town’s pariah, thanks to an incident that occurred when I was fourteen that led to my mother pulling me out of regular school and me continuing my studies at home.
Even now, the sting of embarrassment is so sharp my breath catches. I never meant for anyone to get ahold of the letters I wrote my seventh-grade teacher, Mr. Delany.
Ever since I was little, I’ve related to adults more than people my own age—something Mr. Delany seemed to understand—and we formed a friendship.
However, my private thoughts about him were never supposed to see the light of day. Those letters were for my eyes only.
Unfortunately, once Tricia Rosenberg found them…they were for everyone else’s eyes too. Given my expressive language and graphic details of everything I wanted him to do to me…half the people in town thought he was some kind of child molester.
The other half thought I was a teenage Lolita…trying to ruin a good man with a good family because I came from a broken home and had daddy issues.
Needless to say, my life quickly became a living hell. I was bullied by my peers and verbally abused by the adults who were supposed to protect me.
My mother—already a prominent lawyer, played the offensive at first, claiming her young daughter was taken advantage of—no matter how many times I tried to tell her nothing ever happened between us and they were just stupid fantasies of mine.
However, things only got worse when I made the mistake of meeting Mr. Delany in the middle of the night to apologize for all the trouble I caused him. His wife showed up shortly after we did, and to say the shit hit the fan would be putting it mildly.
My life was one giant cluster fuck after that, but throughout it all, I maintained both mine and Mr. D
elany’s innocence. In the end, I shouldn’t have gone through the trouble because Mr. Delany—just like every other man in my life—turned his back on me. He ended up telling everyone who would listen that I was a mentally ill stalker who was obsessed and blackmailing him because I was angry he turned down my advances.
Since there really was no disputing my fascination with him thanks to the letters, the town had a field day playing judge, jury, and executioner. Especially after it came out that Mr. Delany had ties to some important politician people admired.
My mother had no choice but to save face and her career by claiming her teenage daughter had severe psychological issues, and she decided to do the right thing and send me away so I could receive the proper treatment.
I’ve been stuck inside this house ever since. A prisoner of rumors, poor choices, a selfish mother, and the inner workings of my own peculiar mind.
It’s only recently that I’ve started to interact with people outside my home again—thanks in part to Cain and my therapist’s, David, help.
