by Claire Marta
Footsteps light and timid, she takes a few steps toward us in the snow. “Hi, I’m Jane Gilmore. I’m looking for Mavi StClair?”
Prowling forward, Mavi looks the new comer up and down with distinct curiosity. It’s obvious this was not what she was expecting. “That would be me.”
Lucifer remains motionless and menacing. His presence dark and forbidding as he observes the female’s interaction closely. If he’s surprised by the walking rainbow as the rest of us, he isn’t showing it.
The fairy beams, holding out an elegant hand in greeting. It’s like a light switching on, illuminating the dark with such genuine sweetness I have to blink at the brightness. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m your new nanny.”
Chapter Three
Raziel
The colorful, petite bane of my existence the last four weeks is perched on a seat in the extensive kitchen when I enter. Talking quietly with the only demoness left in the castle, her tinkling laugh heats my blood. The room is laced with the aroma of her baking. Cupcakes with rich sugar-coated toppings. Cakes and biscuits filled with chocolate and butter. They all lay fresh and inviting, tempting the senses with delicious delight.
The good vibe I woke with evaporates.
Jane Gilmore is trouble.
I knew it the first second I clapped eyes on her. Who does this nanny think she is? She’s out of place here. Doesn’t fit in. Carries the kind of graceful ease filled with warm sunshine and light. Delicate, fragile, she’ll easily break around the rest of us. I’m surprised she’s lasted this long. With her books and dreamy smile, she’s nothing but a distraction. One I’ve been trying my best to avoid. We don’t need a spoiled pretentious Fae who’s been raised with riches, privilege, and manners.
Every fantasy I’ve had since she arrived fills my head. Soft skin. Thighs splayed and trembling as I pin her down on a bed, the floor, a wall. Her sweet moans of pleasure as her neck strains back. Would she taste as sweet as her baked treats?
My dick twitches in my pants at the thought. I glare down at it. Really? Since when did it like sugar, spice, and all things nice? Bad girls are much more my style. We both know she’s off limits. The boss’s orders. Still that doesn’t stop me lusting after her. Jerking off in the shower morning, noon, and night is about as close as I’m getting to that female. I resign myself to the fact we’re stuck with the Fae until either Mavi or Lucifer get bored of her. Right now, that doesn’t look like it’s happening any time soon. She’ll just have to remain a thorn in my side. At least my dreams aren’t burdened with that disturbing darkness and silence anymore.
I switch my gaze to the third female in the room. “Hey, Baby doll.”
Swirling her cornflakes around in her bowl, Cassandra’s somber blue eyes flick up to meet mine briefly in greeting before bouncing away. Slender figure hunching forward, she lets her black hair swing down to shield her pretty face.
Mavi’s seventeen-year-old half-sister. An oracle with the power to see the past, present, and future. The girl I helped raise since she was six years old, bringing her to Hell and away from her druggie mother. I know her visions mess with her head. No one can be completely sane with the things she sees. It’s more of a curse than a blessing. The visions screw with her sanity. Sometimes she’s so lost, pain is the only outlet she seeks for a moment’s peace. She’s been the only thing that’s kept a glimmer of light inside me. Stopped me completely sliding into darkness with all the things the Devil’s had me do since I bargained my soul in exchange for my mother’s. I’m far from pure. Raising Cass has kept it at bay, but in the end, I failed her. Wasn’t there to stop her father and his minions hurting her. If they weren’t already dead, I’d tear them apart just to revel in their screams. I like causing pain. Making my enemies bleed. Their fear is something I’ve come to crave.
I watch the sullen teenager and wonder if this broken girl will ever heal? She hasn’t spoken to anyone about what she went through. The trauma and torture. Beatings. Almost being raped. Won’t open up. It’s not something I’ve handled before. I’m good at breaking things, built for war. I don’t know how to fix them. This will take more than a bandage on a scraped knee. The little girl who used to giggle at my jokes and come to me when she was hurt is gone.
Noticing the long red, angry slashes standing out against the paleness of her arm, I curse under my breath. She’s cutting herself again. We’d had a handle on this for years, but with everything that’s happened, it’s messed her up. I know better than to say something. She’ll be embarrassed enough I’ve seen them. Later in private, I’ll try to get it through her skull that hurting herself, in the long run, isn’t the kind of escape she needs. And if that doesn’t work, then Mavi will have to talk some sense into her. Maybe curb this self-harm into something more productive.
As if sensing my observation, Cassandra rolls down the sleeves of her top to hide the evidence of her distress. If anyone else had noted them, they don’t remark.
Filling a cup with fresh coffee from the pot, I take a free space at the table.
I nod at Rosella.
The demoness smiles, auburn locks rumpled around her enchanting exotic face, her small black horns are noticeable as they protrude from her head. Satin robe knotted carelessly around her waist, it does nothing to hide the rounded globes of her heavy breasts beneath the material. Normally she’d be all over me, but that stopped as soon as Mavi moved in. As the Devil’s new mate, she took an instant dislike to the demon whores we kept in the fortress and murdered two of them. It’s effectively cockblocked my fun. Rosella’s too scared out of her mind to fuck. It leaves me with an increasing case of blue balls.
“Hey Raz,” The little fairy calls, face lighting up when she sees me from across the table.
Grunting in response, I ignore her. I’ve never known anyone who can chat as much as she can. It’s annoying how chirpy she can be. She’s so...bubbly.
“I heard the Boss and Mavi are going on a trip. I guess that leaves you in charge, huh? Does that happen a lot? How do you cope with that kind of responsibility?”
Gaze trailing over her, my attention dips to the white t-shirt, which shows off her generous curves, that shouldn’t look so sexy paired with jeans. Taking a deep gulp of coffee, I try not to picture having breakfast between her legs. My face buried between her creamy thighs. How her soft moans and cries would tease my ears as I ate out her pussy while she comes on my tongue.
Scrubbing a hand over the stubble on my jaw with my free hand, I release a pent-up sigh. I really need to get laid. It’s too early for this shit. “Listen up, Tinkerbell. I’m not interested in having a conversation this morning. So, if you could just keep your mouth shut, that would be fine.”
Eyelashes fluttering, she blinks with bewilderment. “What did you just call me?”
“Tinkerbell.”
A nickname I’ve stamped her with since the day she first appeared. Not that I’ve voiced it before now. Miss cookies and cream isn’t living in Never Never Land. This is Hell. The Devil’s domain and she better get used to impolite conversation. We’re crass and uncivilized.
Her nose scrunches up prettily, her fingers running distractedly over the smooth glossy cover of the book she’s left open on the table in front of her, next to a plate with a piece of toast. “My name is Jane.”
“What are you going to do about it? Sprinkle Fae dust all over me because you don’t like it?” I scoff. “Complain to the Boss?”
Cassandra snickers, her slender shoulders shaking even though her face remains shrouded by her long locks. I’m an arrogant prick. The Devil’s chosen warrior. I’ve grown up knowing I can take what I want and say what I like. Fought for it with blood and sweat. Nothing has ever been easy. I doubt this Fae ever had a trouble in her life. Wrapped up in cotton and coddled by her family, she probably has no idea what real hardship is.
“You Neanderthal.” Pink deepens the color of Jane’s cheeks as she flusters. “There’s no need to be so rude. I was only trying to be friendly
and make conversation.”
I can’t stop my lopsided grin at her words. “Your kind of cute when you’re angry, and what kind of language is that? You sound like a prissy librarian. If I’ve pissed you off, show me by swearing at me. That’s a given here. We aren’t polite. This isn’t Fairy Land with all your manners and decorum. We don’t hold tea parties and talk about cake.”
Tucking a strand of purple hair behind her ear, the gold in her irises darkens as she meets my gaze. “It wouldn’t do any of you harm to have some etiquette, and I don’t cuss.”
“What, never?”
“No. It’s vulgar and unladylike. Do you realize how easily children can pick things like that up from the adults around them?” She scolds, brows drawing together in irritation.
Everything inside me rises to the challenge. How much of an effort would it take to have her screaming some very unladylike words? Carnal fantasies play through my head. So many delicious possibilities if she wasn’t off limits.
“I bet I could get something out of those luscious lips of yours in the right situation.” I murmur.
Chapter Four
Jane
My skin prickles with warmth all over with the thought of what Raziel might just do to make that happen. There’s a twinkle in his eyes I’m not sure I like.
Grabbing the open romance novel off the counter beside me, I bury my nose behind the pages and ignore him. My cheeks burn with an embarrassment I know I can’t hide. Mr. Broody certainly has an attitude. Arrogant, confidant and way too self-assured. A dark scruff of stubble shades his jaw, and his shaggy hair is dishevelled around his chiselled features. Pyjama bottoms hanging low on his muscular hips, he’s a sinful slab of hard toned packed muscle. One I haven’t been able to stop ogling since I arrived. Why is it with just one smouldering look he can get me all hot and bothered? He’s the kind of male who doesn’t even have to try to get a female. A crook of his finger and they come running. Dangerous, ruthless, the Devil’s soldier has no problem melting panties. His skills are legendary on the battlefield and in the bedroom, or so I’ve heard. I knew taking on this job was going to be difficult, but this is near impossible. Hostility is clear and open. I’m an outsider and not welcome. It’s not the first job I’ve encountered this kind of response, but somehow, I was hoping this one would be different especially with what I’ve been tasked to do.
Chancing a peek over the top of my book, I catch Cassandra’s stare. Big blue eyes haunting her countenance is pale in contrast to her raven dark hair. Since I arrived, she’s avoided me like the plague. Shut away in her room, she’s barely left it.
The girl shoots me a hateful look. I have no idea what I’ve done to offend her, but she’s been like that since day one. Focusing on what I’m reading, I try to ignore the chilly atmosphere. They don’t have to like me. I’m here to work not socialize, although it would make things easier. A new recipe for chocolate gateaux drifts through my head. I’m mentally matching and mixing ingredients before I can stop myself. It’s the way I relax. Other people garden or do yoga.
I bake.
The more I’m stressed the more I cook. Already early this morning, I’d dripped frosting and batter down the front of my favorite top. I’d been dancing around the kitchen, licking the spoon clean when I was done. It’s a wonder I don’t weigh three hundred pounds. I’m conscious of my creations sitting untouched around the room. Not one person in the fortress has tried my cakes or muffins. A pang of hurt strums through my heart, but I should have realized it was to be expected. I’m not like them. A round peg trying to squeeze itself into a jagged, hazardous hole.
Finishing up my toast in silence, I slide off the seat to toss the plate in the sink.
No one says a word as I leave, but I feel the weight of more than one set of eyes, burning maliciously into my shoulder blades. Shivering at the loss of warmth provided by the kitchen, the book pressed against my chest, I quickly make my way to my charge’s room. It’s the normal time I take over. Times are set for when I’m on duty and when I have free time. A routine I’m used to as a caregiver for children.
Pausing next to one of the large windows, I glance outside, taking in the scenery. A pure pristine layer of white shrouds what lays beyond. Deep and perfect, I’m captivated by the beauty of the sunlight gleaming over the expanse. The stone walls of the fortress do little to keep out the cold. With roaring fire places and heated floors fuelled by the eternal burning pits of Hell, the Devil had learned to adapt.
Breath pale against the chilly air, I brush my fingertips down one of the thick, embroidered wall hangings that covers the rough stone walls. I’m aware that the seals that keep the souls escaping from this dimension are still under threat. Living here for the last few weeks, I’ve heard pieces of conversations and whispers. Until they’re restored, this domain and the other six that Lucifer governs will remain in eternal winter. It has left the Hell realms in chaos open for attack.
“Have you done it yet?”
The soft, familiar feminine voice makes me jump. Heart jerking in my chest, I spin on my heels in disbelief. She shouldn’t be here. It could jeopardize everything I’m working toward.
Instead of finding the tall redhead I know well, a pale orb hovers ethereally before my face. Its magic is subtle, skittering along my skin in tiny electric currents.
“Arianna, you shouldn’t be here,” I hiss, throwing a look over my shoulder. She’s risking my neck, appearing like this. The length of the corridor is deserted and silent.
“Relax, safe guards are in place. I’m undetectable,” she assures me. “No one in the fortress will sense my magic, and I’ll be gone before they could even notice.”
“No I haven’t.”
“It’s been a month.”
“I’m working up to it. They aren’t exactly making it easy for me here. I haven’t been able to have time alone with him,” I reason, well aware of the time that’s been passing. The freedom I’ve had. Until now it’s been easy to sink into my work and forget about why I’m really here. A slice of something simple and unburdened by my conscience and orders.
Arianna snorts. “Give me five minutes, and I’ll soon be riding him into oblivion. Are you even trying to seduce him? I knew it was a bad idea to send you in alone.”
“I’m not a tramp like you and your sisters,” I snap, angry that I’m being checked up on and terrified of being caught.
“No, you’re just an awkward virgin who needs to set this plan in motion if it’s going to work. We don’t have forever.”
The insult stings. After years of being on the receiving end of her jabs, I know better than to let her see how much they hurt. Weakness is exploited.
Clenching my jaw, I stand taller. “It will work,” I assure her.
The orb hovers, drifting from side to side as if it’s caught in a phantom breeze, its center swirling and merging in intricate patterns with the enchantment. “It better. There’s too much at stake for this to fail, and you should know better than to disappoint us.”
I’m well aware of that. It’s been beaten into my head every day since I was eight years old.
Shooing the orb away, my hand passes through the icy mist. “Go already, before your discovered.”
“Fine, but Jane, stop wasting precious time you don’t have. This either works or we do it my way, and I promise you it won’t be pleasant or pretty for any of them.”
Releasing a stuttering breath, I watch the globe dim, the twirling mist it was conjured with dissipating into wisps that drift away in the air.
I’m lucky Arianna’s stunt wasn’t over heard. It was stupid and irresponsible, but the sisters are not known for their subtlety. They won’t wait forever. It’s been in the back of my mind, but I’ve chosen to ignore it. They’ve had sway over my life for so long that I know disobeying will only get me punished or worse. My thoughts turn to the bundle of joy I’m being paid to look after. Innocent, small, I can’t stomach the thought of them hurting her. And they would.
Memories crowd my mind of the second my life changed forever.
“Jane.” My mother’s gentle voice stirs me from dozing. Sitting in the front of the car, her angelic smiling face is turned to look at me where I’m sitting in the back.
“Hmmm?”
“We’re stopping in a bit honey. Do you need to use the bathroom?”
I shake my head sleepily. Warm, soft, the fur of my stuffed teddy brushes against my cheek. My father’s handsome profile is a shadow in the darkness of the car as he drives. Beyond the windshield, the empty road is illuminated by the glow of the headlights. We’d been on the move again. Never settled anywhere more than a year. It made life hard. Friendships were formed and broken. In the end, I found it easier not to make them. Why get attached, when it was never going to last?
“What’s that?” father’s outburst is filled with panic.
The figures stand, stationary and waiting, ahead of us on the deserted highway. Intimidating silhouettes cut out of the blackness. Terror. It clogs the interior around me. Dense, unescapable, my parents’ emotions. Screeching reaches my ears as the tires beneath us give out. Lurching sideways, my scream joins my mother’s as we spin out of control. The world is a blur of noise and color as my heart rises into my mouth with fear. Front smashing into a tree, I’m thrown into the door to my left.
There’s a ringing in my ears, my stomach churning with nausea. The side of my head throbs from the hard, fast impact.
White faced and dishevelled, my mother peers over the seat, her golden eyes fearful. “Jane?”
“I’m ok.” Hugging my teddy bear tightly, I watch wide eyed as she unbuckles her seat belt and scrambles into the back with me.
Yanking off his own, my father thrusts open his door. “Helena, I’ll distract them you get her out of here.”
“Daddy?” My voice is tiny with confusion and dread.
