The Deviants Complete series Box Set

by Jacey Ward

  But she should have come to me when she needed help! It’s my child, for god’s sake! His inner hurt railed at him, wanting to lay the blame for all that had happened at her feet.

  The saner, more rational part of himself reasoned that the reputation he had wasn’t exactly that of a guy who would lend a helping hand when someone needed it. He was a demon, after all.

  “So, you’re ready to die. That’s good,” he told her solemnly. He watched uncertainty flash in her eyes, but she refused to show her fear.

  “Please don’t do this in front of my daughter.”

  “Let’s talk about your daughter, shall we?” he bit out. “How the hell could you keep her from me, Arya? You were so mad at me that you would keep my own child from me?”

  She gaped at him.

  “You left me,” she reminded him coldly. “The last thing I thought you wanted was a sick kid running around. And then I started hearing stories about you, and your…kind, and – I did what I thought was best for my daughter!” she blurted.

  The defensiveness in her tone made him cringe, but he did admit she had some valid points. She had no real way to know that demons were actually excellent fathers. Sure, they were harsh and viciously ruthless in all other parts of their lives, but family was tight for them.

  “So, what now?” he demanded. “What am I supposed to do with you now?”

  Arya’s mouth parted slightly and she eyed him.

  “I guess that’s up to you, Dante. I wouldn’t have done this if Rowan hadn’t misled me. I was only worried about Jasmine, but I know the punishment for this kind of thing is…swift and merciless.”

  “I don’t think there has ever been a ‘this kind of thing’,” Dante commented dryly. “You’re probably the first sorceress to ever successfully steal a Chasm of Guile.”

  Arya stared at him, and he could see she was trying to determine if he was impressed or angry.

  “You have quite a talent.”

  “That’s one way of looking at it,” she hedged. “Others might call it a curse.”

  Dante stepped closer to her, his eyes darkening as he peered down at her.

  “I never wanted you to get away. I meant everything I said to you at my house – even though you were just playing a role.”

  “No, I wasn’t!” she seethed, her emotions finally overcoming her rigid control. Her narrowed eyes skewered him where he stood. “There hasn’t been one day that I haven’t thought about you since that night. I have a living, breathing reminder of you glued to my side and you’re a fool if you think anything else,” she accused hotly.

  The confession was so sudden, so heartfelt, that it struck a chord with him.

  “But everything I have done, has been for my daughter,” she continued. “And I don’t regret a second of it.”

  “Our daughter,” he replied quietly. “She’s our daughter, Arya.”

  For a moment, he thought she was going to protest his words, but instead she shrugged and nodded.

  “You saved her life, Dante. That makes you her father. If you want to be a part of her life, I won’t stop you, but I won’t force you either.”

  He shook his head.

  “No, Arya, I don’t want to be a part of her life. I want to be your lives. I want to stare at you while you sleep and get woken up by a flying body on our shared bed. I want to make up for all the time we lost because I answered a call I should have never acknowledged.”

  She pressed her lips together and he could see the wariness in her expression.

  “Think of it this way,” he said softly. “I can’t very well go missing if you’re living in my house.”

  Arya snorted, but he saw her emerald eyes lighten slightly.

  “Are you sure that’s what you really want?” she whispered, and he laughed.

  “That’s what I’ve always wanted. Aren’t you listening? I never wanted anything else. I didn’t leave you willingly.”

  She met his gaze and slowly began to nod her head.

  “I mean, we could try it…”

  “Once you go demon, you’ll always be screamin’,” he promised and Arya chortled.

  “That sounds awful.”

  He pulled her into a hug, gently kissing the top of her head.

  “It’s better than it sounds,” he assured her, embracing her tightly.

  “Mama? Who is that?”

  They parted slightly as Jasmine ventured toward them, her bright eyes inquisitive.

  She looks exactly like Arya. I wonder if her brothers and sisters will look like her too, Dante thought, crouching down to look at her warmly.

  “Jasmine, this is your papa,” Arya said softly. “He’s missed you very much.”

  Her eyes became big as saucers as she stared at him.

  “You got a swing set?” she challenged him.

  “I will,” he promised her.

  Jasmine glanced at her mother, then looked down shyly, suddenly losing her burst of bluster. Slowly, she shuffled forward, getting closer and closer to Dante without once looking at him.

  When she got within a foot, Dante knelt down, but didn’t attempt to touch her, not wanting to spook her at all.

  Finally, she raised her eyes to his, and the moment their gazes met, a cool breeze wafted through the room. It was like a transfer of power, or an awakening of some sort. Arya had no idea what had happened, but she didn’t want to break the spell.

  She watched, transfixed as she saw her daughter’s hand raise slowly and touch Dante’s knee. His breath drew in quickly, as if electricity had tingled through him. Their gazes locked, and her daughter’s words were so soft, Arya could barely make them out.

  “Thank you for fixing me.”

  Arya’s heart clenched hard at the sentence. She had not had any idea that Jasmine had been aware of what her father had done. How could she? She had been unconscious when Dante had held her in the circle of his arms, and when she had finally awakened, she hadn’t acknowledged the man at all, acting as if everything was normal. She hadn’t even asked a single question about the stranger who had held her.

  He extended his arms and the child climbed onto his lap without reservation, as if sensing it was a safe place to be.

  Dante closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of her hair, a warmth welling in him.

  It was as if everything had fallen precisely into place, just as it was meant to be.

  As they parted, Dante smiled at her affectionately.

  “Are you ready to go home?” he asked her earnestly and she nodded eagerly.

  “Me too,” Arya smiled. “Me too.”

  Introduction

  Kalen - the dark demon Underlord who won’t stop at anything to get what - or who - he wants.

  Circe - the beautiful, innocent Valkyrie masquerading as a human supermodel.

  Kalen is out for blood.

  And he needs the powers of a Valkyrie to help him find this soon-to-be-dead demon.

  He’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen - even if it means manipulating and lying to the Valkyrie he fell instantly in lust with during her runway debut.

  Circe knows she should stay away from the dark demon…but knowing and actually doing are two completely different things.

  After all, he’s so damn sweet, and protective of her. There’s no way in hell he’d ever hurt her - right?

  Kalen’s betting he’ll have time to break the news of who he really is - and how he’s using her, before she finds out the truth some other way.

  But he’s wrong.

  Now, heartbroken and furious, Circe vows never to let him in again - to her heart, or her bed.

  For my Husband -

  my own dark demon.

  DEMONS Strike Back

  Jacey Ward

  Deviant (n) – any of a group of immortal beings living secretly amongst mortals, having powers beyond that which humans can explain.

  E.g. vampires, demons, shifters, Valkyries, Fae, trolls, demi-gods.

  Prologue

  He co
ughed and sputtered, blinking his hazel green eyes against the smog of the city.

  What the hell place is this? He wondered, shaking his head as he continued to descend the steps of the private plane. Of course he knew; he just had trouble accepting he was there – again.

  “Shall I carry you, my lord?” Anderly gasped, reaching a gnarled hand toward him. But Kalen declined the offer.

  “I have legs, Anderly. You are in worse shape than I am.”

  “Yes, yes my lord. I am not worthy,” Anderly agreed eagerly, bobbing his head. Kalen didn’t bother stifling a sigh, shaking his wavy dark hair with disgust.

  Father has a shitty sense of humor, he thought bitterly. Bequeathing me a clan of trolls before disappearing into purgatory. How the fuck was I supposed to get ahead after he left me with these Deviant heathens lurking about?

  Some might argue that the legion of trolls was better than nothing at all, but Kalen wasn’t convinced most days. It seemed that each troll was older and more decrepit than the last.

  Unlike his father, Kalen did not need his ego constantly stroked.

  My cock, yes. My ego, not so much, he thought, sighing as his feet met the landing.

  “What is this shithole again?” he asked Anderly even though he knew exactly where the plane had landed; New York City. The armpit of the mortal world.

  “New York City, New York State, United States of America,” Anderly recited as if he was Google maps.

  “Fuck, how many times have I sworn I would not come back to this cesspool?” Kalen growled, more to himself than to his half-dead companion.

  “Shall I have the pilot refuel and prepare to leave?” the troll asked.

  Kalen sighed inwardly again. Thanks a lot, dad.

  “Prepare to leave?” he echoed with thinning patience. “Have we gotten what we came for, Anderly?”

  “No, sire, no we have not.”

  “Well then how can we leave?”

  “I am sorry, sire. I am not worthy. I am not worthy.”

  “Is Evander here?”

  “I do not see him, my lord. I will look harder,” Anderly grovelled, bowing his head as if he expected a backhanded slap.

  “We have technology,” Kalen reminded him. “I’ll send a text.”

  But it wasn’t necessary. The doors to the entranceway swung outward and Evander strode toward them. Even from the distance between them, Kalen could read the concern in the investigator’s face.

  “If you have bad news…” Kalen said threateningly as the vampire approached.

  “I’m sorry, Kalen but he’s not here any longer. Or if he is, he caught wind of the fact we were looking for him.”

  “If you’re telling me I flew into this hellhole for nothing, Evander – “

  “I can’t say for sure, Kalen, but for the moment he’s off the radar.”

  “I will inform the pilot, my lord,” Anderly announced, but Kalen held up his hand.

  “Not yet. I’m not leaving the Americas only to return in a day because Evander got his shit together.”

  He eyed the pale immortal with disgust.

  “How long will it take you to find him?”

  “We’re working around the clock, Kalen. If he’s still on the continent, he will be found.”

  “And if not?”

  “I have alerted our operatives worldwide that he is still at large.”

  Kalen grunted loudly and shook his head.

  “This is unacceptable,” he snarled. “I don’t have extra time to piss away.”

  “We’re more than capable of taking care of him,” Evander offered, knowing full well that Kalen would refuse. “I’ll call on the local demons.”

  That dickhead is mine. He made me a promise and he broke it. And now he’s trying to run from me. When I get my hands on him, he’s going to find out exactly what happens to people who cross me.

  “Really?” Kalen asked, raising an eyebrow in contempt. “Because you’ve been doing such a fucking wonderful job of taking care of things so far?”

  Evander balked more if possible, and lowered his gaze as Kalen thought about his next move.

  He had no interest in staying in New York City, but he also had no desire to return to the Corpus without…well, without the corpse.

  “You have three days to find him,” Kalen conceded. “But if you don’t locate him, I will not be pleased.”

  “Of course,” Evander agreed quickly, visibly swallowing. He didn’t need to be told what happened when Kalen was displeased.

  “In the meantime, I will find you a suite at the Four Seasons. Maybe you can take in a show?” the vampire suggested brightly and Kalen grunted in exasperation.

  “Fucking perfect,” Kalen sighed. “Not only am I trapped in this hellhole, I’m stuck exploring what the mortals call culture.”

  “Frozen is playing,” Evander offered and in spite of himself, Kalen felt himself perk up.

  “Oh yeah? I caught it in London. It wasn’t bad.”

  The vampire bobbed his head and Kalen relented.

  “All right. I could stand to spend a night with Elsa. Do it up.”

  Evander turned, his shoulders sagging with relief, but Kalen wasn’t about to let the vampire relax.

  “Three days,” he called out to the PI. “After which…”

  He allowed his sentence to trail off menacingly.

  “Have no fear, Kalen,” Evander assured him without turning as they stalked through the airport. “I found him before and I’ll find him again. There are only so many places a demon can hide.”

  “Uvall is not just any demon,” Kalen grunted aloud. “He has resources in places I can’t even imagine. Is he still traveling with the high priestess?”

  “Last we heard,” Evander replied, slowing his gait to peer over his shoulder as he heard something in Kalen’s tone. “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking that if he has a sorceress to aid him, we should find one too.”

  The males stared at one another, each with thoughtful expressions on their faces.

  “It shouldn’t be difficult to find a sorceress in New York City,” Evander agreed, nodding. “In fact, I think I know – “

  “No,” Kalen interjected flatly. “Not a sorceress.”

  “I’m confused,” Evander sputtered. “I thought you just said – “

  “I don’t want to fight fire with fire. I want to blow him up with a fucking plutonium bomb. When I’m done with him, he’s going to beg for purgatory. We need something more powerful than a priestess.”

  “Another demon?” Anderly asked, a leer forming on his grotesque, misshapen face. “Yes, we will gather all the demons and cast him out with his own kind!”

  Kalen scowled.

  “No, you imbecile. I don’t want the other demons to know what deal we fashioned with this rogue jackass. The backlash could be devastating, especially for those who sided with Dante. The Corpus will never recover. No, we need something better.”

  He paused, the wheels in his head spinning quickly through the options available.

  “A Valkyrie. We need to find a Valkyrie.”

  “Yes!” Evander murmured excitedly, nodding.

  “It’s settled then. Let’s find a Valkyrie and we’ll formulate a plan to smoke out that son of a bitch and his wretched mistress.”

  “I’ll make some calls,” Evander said, reaching for his cell phone, but Kalen stopped him.

  “No, wait.”

  “What is it?”

  “See if you can’t get those Frozen tickets first.”

  Chapter 1

  It took every fiber of her being not to dig her long fingernails into the arms of her date. Everything about him was grinding on her nerves and despite being well versed in the ways of the pompous human interaction, Circe could not bring herself to believe that they enjoyed events such as this.

  Who would notice if I killed Darnell Jacob Collins the Third? I mean, really, how missed would he be? Surely this asteroid of mortal waste cannot tell one
arrogant piece of shit from another.

  The urge to render him unconscious at minimum was overwhelming and the phony smile on her cherry red lips seemed etched in stone as she fought with the will to silence his nasally, arrogant voice.

  “What do you think, Circe, darling?” the middle-aged billionaire asked, cocking his bald head to look up at her. “Monet or Manet?”

  Seriously? You pretentious dickhead, you wouldn’t know art if it smacked you in your Viagra surged prick.

  And even after correcting him twice, he still insisted on pronouncing her name ‘Serse’, instead of ‘Keer-key’.

  I think my parents hated me. Why else would they chose an incredibly uncommon name – and then pronounce it oddly, too?

  “Oh, I don’t know!” she chirped, flashing her sharp little ivory teeth and mimicking his pose. Her blue-black curls tickled the base of her slender, muscled neck and she studied his face with intense eyes, hovering over him by at least six inches.

  “Oh, Darnie. I’m useless with this kind of thing.”

  The others in the group chuckled in their gracious, condescending manner.

  “You can hardly be faulted for your lack of knowledge in the art world, Circe,” Amanda Pierson declared, her faux compassion as transparent as her Botox job. “You weren’t raised among it as so many of us were.”

  “That is so true,” Circe replied sweetly, batting her thick lashes at the woman. “After all, I have always preferred the works of Dali or Kahlo who used emotion to gauge their works without ego or fear of judgement. Even Van Gogh was batshit crazy which leads me to have more faith in the legitimacy of his canvasses than a regurgitation of superficial pastel landscapes. But as you say, Amanda, what do I know? Will you excuse me?”

  She left the group to gape after her, willing her homicidal feelings to subside as she reached the bar.