The Devil's Kiss Series Boxed Set

by Gemma James

  “You didn’t get off.”

  “I did,” I said quickly, because not reaching orgasm always angered him. “I swear I—”

  “You didn’t get off. Don’t try to fake it. I’ll always know.” Stepping back, he gestured toward my dress. “Take it off.”

  “C’mon, Zach, you don’t have—”

  “Take it off.”

  I unzipped the dress and let it fall to my feet, and my breasts jiggled in their braless state. He shoved me across the room, down to the couch, and forced my thighs open. Sinking to his knees, he yanked me toward his mouth until my ass was half off the couch, my legs dangling on either side of his shoulders.

  The instant he tore my panties from my body, my mind went blank, as the sounds of my cries were too degrading to acknowledge. I vaguely recalled him twisting my nipples in unforgiving pinches, then slapping my breasts hard. He jammed his fingers into my pussy mercilessly, and after he’d compelled an orgasm from me, he made me suck my own cum off, shoving his fingers deep into my mouth as he emphasized how he was the one who had made me come.

  Only me, Lex. No one else.

  Then he was gone, and I was in the scalding shower, eyes squeezed shut, fists crossed over tender breasts to keep from bloodying my knuckles on the tile. The only drops of water on my cheeks came from the shower head. I never cried. I didn’t allow myself the luxury. My breaths came out in soft shudders, and I tried to keep myself in one piece as I recalled what he’d asked before he left.

  Do you still love him?

  My denial hadn’t placated him, and his parting words blared through my head, more forceful than my shame. If you go anywhere near him, I’ll fuck him up for life. He’s a lot easier to get to now, isn’t he?

  The thought of my brother hurting Rafe terrified me, so I’d told Zach I hadn’t heard from him. A lie, because I was pretty sure the note came from Rafe.

  Was this always going to be my life? Lies upon lies, sprinkled with the occasional half-truth?

  I could leave. I’d considered it before, had even tried once, though I only made it halfway to the California border before chickening out. Too many people close to me had suffered, like the guy I’d teamed up with my Junior year for a science project. He made the mistake of hitting on me, and Zach had given him the nastiest beat down of his life, leaving broken bones and bloody flesh in his wake. Dad’s money swept that one under the rug.

  There had been others, some no one knew about because Zach was intimidating enough without his reputation as a fighter to keep most quiet. They suffered his rage in silence. Fear of retaliation wasn’t the only thing keeping me from fleeing though. I’d hung on to the stupid, absurd, fanciful hope that Rafe would someday forgive me.

  Impossible. What I’d done was unforgivable.

  Standing at a crossroads of sorts, I needed to find the strength to move on with my life. I glanced at the enormous engagement ring Lucas had pushed onto my finger earlier that night. No matter what Dad believed, tying myself to a man I didn’t love wouldn’t fix anything. Neither would continuing to allow Zach free rein of my puppet strings.

  For the first time in your life, Alexandra, do the right thing.

  The voice sounded like my father’s. Certainly, the words were something he’d say, something he’d said again and again every time I fucked up. And I fucked up a lot. My whole life was one big fuck up.

  I shut off the water, wrapped a towel around my body, and entered the bedroom, then changed into jeans and a sweatshirt before pulling a duffle from the closet. I blindly flung clothes onto the bed and stuffed some into the bag. The stash of cash I’d saved, tucked underneath the mattress, also went inside. Lastly, I tossed in my wallet. I didn’t need anything else. Just myself and the courage to leave.

  That was the hard part.

  I took off the ring and let it drop onto the nightstand, then I closed my eyes and envisioned my escape. I’d walk down the hall, feet sinking into the plush runner one last time. I saw myself crack the door open and peek outside, saw myself hop down the stairs of the porch, my paranoid gaze buzzing around as I approached the Volvo Dad had given me for graduation.

  The alluring taste of freedom, only a few feet away, tempted with promise. I just had to close the distance and take the first step. I left the bedroom and moved toward the foyer, like a teenager sneaking out past curfew. I felt like a child, excitement fluttering in my belly as my hand neared the doorknob.

  Trepidation also stirred in my gut. If I disappeared, would Zach really hurt Rafe, a man he’d once called his best friend?

  A knock sounded, and I jerked my fingers back. A few tense seconds passed before the knock repeated. For someone terrified of escaping the shackles of a life unwanted, I should have given more thought to the possibilities on the other side of that door. Swinging the duffle to my back, I pulled it open, and my breath whooshed from me as I uttered his name.

  “Rafe.”

  He was here, standing in front of me, and my knees almost buckled, weaker now than when I’d first spied his note upon returning home. A violent blast of air and rain blew in with his presence, carrying a hint of roses from the bushes off the porch. The aroma infused me with a sense of serenity despite the darkness shadowing my street.

  I was the perfect prey in that moment, too stunned to keep my head. I stumbled back, a mistake on my part because he was the second man that night to shove his way into my house.

  Grab your copy of Torrent today

  Epiphany - Chapter One

  A psychic running from her past. A mysterious man with nothing to lose. When these two collide, sparks fly and secrets are revealed. But can their love survive the watchful eye of a serial killer?

  The Watcher’s Point gossip mill welcomed me to town by exposing my mom’s secret. I bet if she’d known about my special ability she wouldn’t have kept the truth hidden all these years. Kind of hard to keep a secret when your daughter dreams of unexplainable things.

  Like how I’d known the sun’s rays painted the hillside in copper tones at sunset, or how violent the ocean became during a storm, crashing over jagged rocks and sending bursts of seawater onto the highway. I’d seen the town many times in my dreams, had walked the streets and tasted the salt in the air, but my mom hadn’t known about my virtual visits to her hometown. The place where I’d been conceived, or so I’d recently learned.

  That was the thing about secrets—they have a way of unraveling, even after twenty-three years.

  “You’re doing it again.”

  I blinked and focused on Six, the only friend I’d made since moving. “Doing what?”

  “Dwelling.”

  “Sorry,” I mumbled.

  “No downers allowed on this night.” She wagged a finger at me. “Besides, you’ll forget all about this chaos with your mom when you see what I’ve got.” She pulled a dress from her closet, which was so overstuffed it practically spit the garment into her hands.

  “You’re nuts if you think I’m wearing that.” I folded my arms and bit back a smile. “Nuts enough to call Cahoots.”

  “What the heck is Cahoots?”

  “Loony bin transport.”

  “Ha-ha, very funny.” Sticking her tongue out, she threw the scrap of fabric at me. “Try it on, Mac. You won’t regret it.”

  I hated the nickname almost as much as skimpy dresses. “Uh-uh. No way.”

  “These too.” A pair of strappy heels landed at my feet. “By the time I’m done,” she said, placing a hand on her curvy hip, “you’ll be hell on heels. Sexy hell on heels.”

  I didn’t want to be sexy hell on anything, especially in those torturous pair of shoes. “I don’t do sexy,” I said, draping the dress across her bed.

  “Are you kidding? That outfit will do wonders for those legs.”

  “What legs?” I glanced down at my freshly painted toenails. She wasn’t kidding about the makeover. “I’m five-four, not exactly leggy.”

  “Hence, the dress and heels, silly.” She grabbed my ar
m and pulled me into her closet-sized bathroom. “Chill out and let me work my magic.” One sharp look silenced my grumbling. Why had I agreed to let her drag me out? And to a dance club of all places?

  Oh, yeah. To meet people.

  Giving up the fight, I collapsed onto the lid of the toilet. It was only one night. Besides, maybe Six was right. I’d end up in a mental ward if I didn’t lighten up. So what if the upheaval of my life nipped at my feet like a Pomeranian?

  What a freaking understatement.

  I didn’t belong here. I should be back home, experiencing the high of my senior year of college, and mastering my artistic technique. But here I was, on my own in a new town, making new friends, and pretending my heart was still in one piece.

  “It’s time you learned the meaning of the word fun,” Six said as she pulled out a tray of colorful palettes and brushes. How ironic that her cosmetic kit resembled my art supplies in the apartment next door—the only tangible evidence I lived there. I hadn’t been there long enough to leave a personal imprint; no pictures or decorative touches, just my drawings and the related paraphernalia scattered throughout the space.

  I stifled a sigh as she put her skills to work, transforming my face into God knows what. Fun…I could do fun. “You’re not gonna make me look like a Geisha, are you?”

  She burst out laughing. “Don’t tempt me. You wanna talk about insanity? Missing masquerade night at High Times is unheard of.” She snapped open an eyeshadow compact. “Tonight’s our night to get drunk. Lord knows we’re gonna serve enough wasted dumbasses on Halloween.”

  Working on Halloween didn’t bother me, though I didn’t bother telling her that.

  “Close your eyes,” she said.

  I complied, and the soft bristles of her brush feathered across my lids. Instantly, a mahogany gaze flashed in my mind. Intense and brooding—those eyes imparted such a strong sexual vibe, the mere thought of them warmed the space between my legs. I pressed my thighs together, but vanishing the mystery guy from my head wasn’t the easiest thing to do. I’d seen him in my dreams too many times to count, had no idea if he even existed, but whoever he was, I knew better eye candy didn’t exist.

  “Are you done yet?” I mumbled.

  “Don’t move!”

  “Yes, master.”

  “Mackenzie, you’re impossible.”

  Holding back a smile, I let her finish her “art.” With face goo done, she went to work on my hair, wielding a secret female weapon: the curling iron. “You’ve got ten minutes, then I’m outta here,” I warned.

  “Not a problem.” Apparently, short hair came with advantages. She finished in five and stepped back. “Dress time.”

  I groaned. “Can’t I just wear jeans?”

  “Nope.”

  A few minutes later, after squirming into the tight dress, I stumbled in the three-inch heels to the mirror on her bathroom door. “I look like a hoochie momma!”

  “That’s the idea.” She twirled a red curl around her finger and grinned at me.

  The classic little black dress emphasized places I’d prefer to leave alone, though I had to give her props for the gunk on my face. My slate gray eyes hadn’t looked so smoky since prom.

  “I thought masquerades were supposed to be classy.” I yanked the hem down. “I mean, what kind of bar puts on a masquerade party?”

  “You’ve obviously never been to High Times.” Of course, her brand of coercion wouldn’t be complete without a sparkly masquerade mask. She held it out, a challenge in her eyes. “Quit stalling and put this on. The night’s not getting any younger.”

  An hour later, I wondered if the night would ever end. Six started right in on her Mac-needs-to-meet-people campaign. She must have introduced me to a dozen men. Freakishly tall guys, chubby short guys, full-bearded tattooed guys, hunky gym guys. Even geeky tech guys. It was a smorgasbord of guys, and I was positive I wouldn’t remember a single name. Masquerade night, I scoffed. More like operation let’s-get-Mac-laid night.

  Techno music blared from every speaker, and like most popular bars, breathing room was a luxury. A kaleidoscope of masked faces whirled around me as I inched through the sea of bodies, amazed at what some people called dancing.

  Six was nowhere to be found. I hadn’t seen her since she’d dragged a tattooed guy onto the dance floor fifteen minutes ago, already drunk on some blue concoction. Sweat and alcohol wafted in the air, a reminder of another night, one that amped my pulse and made me want to hide behind closed doors for the rest of my life. I balled my hands as the room blurred.

  Coming here was a bad idea.

  “Watch out!” someone yelled after I’d stepped on a foot.

  Sweat trickled down my hairline, and I blinked rapidly as the walls imploded. Spotting the women’s restroom a few feet away, I muttered an apology and scurried inside. The room was blessedly empty. I tore off my mask and stared into the dingy mirror, breath coming in shallow gasps as I willed my heartbeat to slow down. It still hadn’t returned to normal when the door squeaked open behind me.

  “Hey!” A woman stumbled in with a crash. “You fucked up my shoe. Sorry ain’t gonna cut it.”

  I froze, recognizing Christie’s reflection despite the mask she hid behind. Out of all the toes I could have crushed, they would have to be hers.

  Christie’s dark eyes widened. “Why haven’t you slithered back to your hole yet?”

  I straightened my spine and turned to confront her glare. “I told you I wasn’t going anywhere.”

  She smirked. “You don’t belong here. Everyone knows it.” Her gaze traveled to my toes and back up again. “Dressing like me. Trying to be me.” She tsked-tsked. “So pathetic.”

  “This isn’t about you.” I paused, trying to think of a way to make her understand. “I had no idea when I moved here. I didn’t know.”

  Christie’s face twisted, and her fingers bunched into fists. “He wasn’t your father!”

  “According to the whole damn town he was.” I clamped my mouth shut and tried to step around her. Last thing I needed was another argument with Christie Beckmeyer. Who would’ve thought I’d discover a sister just to have her hate me?

  She blocked my exit at the last second. “Your mom’s a slut. My dad wasn’t the only guy she fucked.”

  “Get out of my way,” I said through clenched teeth, fingers curling around my mask, “unless one ruined shoe isn’t enough for you.” Just because I wasn’t speaking to my mom didn’t mean I’d let anyone else badmouth her. Christie must have seen something dangerous in my eyes because she moved to the side. I resisted the urge to throw something as I shoved through the door and worked my way through the crowd.

  “There you are!” Six materialized in front of me, something blue sloshing over the rim of her cup. “Why’d you take off your mask?” She shoved her drink into my hands before refastening the mask over my eyes. “You rock the mysterious vibe. Now, bottoms up. You don’t look like you’re havin’ fun.”

  “Six, I’m not really in the mood—”

  “Oh, noooo you don’t. You need to loosen up.” She bounced away with a gesture for me to follow. “C’mon! There’s someone I want you to meet.”

  My gaze wandered to the bathroom entrance, where Christie stood drilling me with her glacial stare. Wonderful. I gulped down the alcohol and hurried after Six. “Who? Haven’t I met enough people tonight?”

  “Darn, he disappeared,” she said as she coaxed me into the center of twisting bodies. “But let me tell you, this guy is hot. And he’s a newbie in town like you. Fresh meat.”

  We began dancing, or more accurately, Six danced. I two-stepped with the finesse of a Ping-Pong ball. “I’m not interested in dating,” I hollered above the music.

  “Who’s talking about dating.” She scrunched her nose. “You know what you need?”

  I was afraid to ask. “What?”

  “A hot, sweaty romp in the sack. No strings, no expectations…” She paused long enough to wiggle her eyebrows. “Just a
little wrestling between the sheets. It’s good exercise.”

  I needed that about as much as a tax audit, but I laughed despite myself. “You’re horrible!” The alcohol infiltrated my bloodstream with amazing speed. I couldn’t say how long we danced. Three songs? Four? Ten? By the time she pulled me to a less crowded corner of the bar, I’d gulped down another drink and my ability to walk straight worsened by ten degrees.

  “What was in that stuff?” I asked her.

  “What stuff?”

  “The blue crap you gave me!”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know.” She laughed. “There’s a reason they named it Adiós Motherfuck—”

  “Okay,” I interrupted, “I get the idea.” Suddenly, the ceiling whirled in a nauseating spin. “Oh, shit. Be right back.” Pushing through the crowd, I covered my mouth and made a beeline for the restroom. In my haste to escape inside, I tripped over a boot. Two strong arms reached out and grabbed me. And how did I thank my rescuer?

  I barfed down the front of his brown leather jacket.

  “Oh God, I am so…” Raising my eyes, I trailed off, initially surprised he wasn’t wearing a mask like everyone else.

  Then I gaped at him.

  Familiar mahogany eyes pierced me, and the Earth halted, crashed into Jupiter for all I knew. In that moment nothing else existed.

  I must be dreaming.

  To test the theory, I dug my fingernails into my arm. Okay, not dreaming, but something wasn’t right. The blue drink from hell must produce hallucinations because the guy I’d dreamed about for years had his arms around me, and I was very much awake.

  He glanced down at his soiled jacket and winced.

  I cleared my throat, preparing to apologize, but couldn’t force a squeak out, let alone a word.

  He lowered his arms, stepped back, and watched me carefully, as if he believed I might crumble to the floor. “You okay?”