by Cynthia Eden
New York Times and USA Today best-selling author Cynthia Eden spins a hot new paranormal Purgatory story with…DEAL WITH THE DEVIL.
Eric Pate is used to making his own rules—as the director of the PARA Unit, he is the boss. Everyone rushes to obey his commands, and no one knows his secrets. No one ever gets too close to him. But then he meets her.
Ella Lancaster is tired of being a prisoner. She escaped one hell just to find herself in another, though Eric doesn’t consider her containment with his agents as punishment. He actually thinks it is a form of protection. But Eric is so very wrong. Ella doesn’t need protecting, not for anyone or anything.
When the PARA Unit comes under attack, Ella and Eric both find themselves battling a supernatural beast that they never expected. Forced to join forces, to make a deal, Ella and Eric are soon fighting side-by-side, and their attraction for each other can’t be contained or controlled. Hot. Wild. Consuming. Ella’s deal with her devil is soon taking over her life.
And as Eric falls deeper and deeper under the mysterious Ella’s spell, his legendary control begins to crack. The beast that he has kept chained so carefully inside rises to the surface. Unfortunately, when the devil loses his control…there is real hell to pay.
By Cynthia Eden
This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to real people, places, or events are not intentional and are purely the result of coincidence. The characters, places, and events in this story are fictional.
Copyright ©2015 by Cindy Roussos
Cover art and design by: Sweet ‘N Spicy Designs
Copy-editing by: JRT Editing (www.jrtediting.com)
Table of Contents
Title/Copyright Page
Deal With The Devil
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Epilogue
Author’s Note
About The Author
Chapter One
“Do you enjoy watching me?” Ella Lancaster asked softly as she stared into the one-way mirror. Her own reflection peered back at her, but she knew he was there. Standing just on the other side of that glass. Watching her. Always, watching.
And I’m his prisoner. As if she hadn’t played this particular game—or nightmare—before. Only this time, something seemed different. Was he different? Or just another man she would have to kill?
Ella lifted her hand to the glass. Her image appeared fragile. A woman—delicate, almost petite—with long, dark hair and light blue, almond-shaped eyes. Her palm flattened against the glass, almost as if she were trying to touch the man who waited on the other side.
But I’m not so interested in touching you…more interested in fighting you and escaping.
Because she couldn’t stay his prisoner. She was going out of her mind being captive once again.
“No chains on my wrists,” Ella said as she cocked her head. “A fancy room instead of jail bars, but I know a prison when I see one.” And he could stock the place with all the high-end furniture and too expensive clothing that he wanted. She knew where she was, and there was no pretending. “I want out.”
She’d already spent too much time being held captive. Her nightmare had been going on for far too long.
That sick, twisted freak of an alpha werewolf named Keegan had been the start of her most recent hell. He’d kept her chained and starved in his basement. He’d nearly broken her mind…
Nearly? She almost laughed at that thought. Ella knew her mind was broken. So was she.
But Keegan was gone now. And she was in the custody of the United States government. The FBI. The government was supposed to protect people, right?
It’s a pity that rule doesn’t apply to paranormals.
“You watch me all the time,” she whispered. “Do you think I don’t feel you?” She smiled at him and could see the flash of her fangs reflected in the mirror. “Is it really right for someone like you to hold me prisoner?” Ella kept her hand against the glass. “After all, you’re just as much of a monster as I am.”
Did he think she hadn’t realized that?
“Now let me out,” she said, voice soft, beguiling.
Nothing.
“Let me out!” Ella said again, voice harder. She wanted to drive her fist into that glass and shatter it. The man on the other side of that mirror had no idea just who he was dealing with. She was getting stronger now, and soon, soon everyone would be feeling her rage.
I won’t be a victim again. I won’t!
She strained to hear sounds from that other room. The people in power there believed they were so clever, trying to use their sound-proofing technology. They didn’t know just what she could do.
Fools. Know your enemy. That was rule one for survival.
As she strained, Ella could hear the faint taps of footsteps. Her watcher was coming closer. Heading to her door.
She kept her hand on the glass, not moving at all even as adrenaline burst through her veins. He hadn’t come to see her—not without glass between them—since she’d first been brought in.
Just watching. Day and night…watching…
He’d sent his team members in to poke and prod her. Sent a doctor who’d taken her blood and all kinds of test samples. The guards had been there, too, of course. But the watcher had stayed away. The man in charge.
Ella heard the click of the lock and the slide of the bolt as her cell was unlocked. It’s a cell. I don’t care how much you try to pretty it up. The door opened.
His scent hit her first. Rich, masculine. The scent seemed to wrap around her.
Tempt her.
Then he was advancing in the room. Moving with a slow, confident stride. Her gaze slid up and she saw his reflection in that mirror. Tall, fit, with shoulders that seemed incredibly wide. Power. That was what she noticed first about him. Long before she even focused on his face, Ella was aware of the power that his muscled body possessed.
Power equals danger.
She swallowed down her fear and made herself study his face.
She’d seen him before, of course, when she’d been pulled from her previous prison. Keegan’s torture center. When she’d been rescued from the deranged werewolf who’d been determined to drain every bit of power from her body.
He had been there.
The blond male who now stood, still and silent, just a few feet away.
A handsome man, if you went for that sort. She never had. His jaw was hard, his forehead high. His nose was elegant—far too much so for her taste. It needed to be broken, maybe that would give the guy character. Maybe that would make him look less cold.
Cold. That was definitely the way she felt when she stared at him. Maybe it was his eyes. Those hard eyes of his held no hint of any emotion. And his lips—lips that could have been sensual—were pressed into a taut line.
This was a man who gave nothing away.
Then I suppose I’ll have to take everything from him.
He was dressed in a well-cut suit, one that perfectly displayed his wide shoulders and fit his tall frame. He looked polished. Powerful. Determined.
Not your average jailer…
“Have you looked long enough?” he asked. His voice was a deep, dark rumble. Sexy.
She didn’t want to find anything about her jailer to be sexy. This attraction she had to him—it was odd. Unwanted.
But…there. Instinctive. Primal. Even her heart was alrea
dy beating faster, and not just because she thought escape was at hand. Because he was close, and he stirred her.
Ella lowered her hand away from the glass. She slowly turned to face him, making sure that her own expression was schooled not to show her emotions. She was going to try logic with him first. She’d plead her case. Perhaps that tactic would work.
And perhaps not.
“You’ve had plenty of time to look at me,” Ella murmured. “I suppose I thought it was only fair for me to have the same opportunity.”
His jaw hardened. Just a small movement, but she saw it and Ella liked that she’d gotten to him.
“Did you think I didn’t know? I could feel it when you were close.” She motioned toward the mirror, then toward the video camera mounted near the ceiling. “I think this was all a bit…much, don’t you? I mean, I’m locked in. It’s not as if I can plot some terrible wickedness here.”
“You can plot it,” he allowed, “you just can’t carry it out.”
Ella took a step closer to him.
He offered her his hand. “It’s time we were officially introduced. My name is Eric Pate, and I’m in charge of the FBI’s Para Unit.”
She stared at his hand.
The Para Unit. There had been whispers about that group for years. Government agents who policed the creatures that went bump in the night. According to the gossip she’d heard, if a supernatural got on the wrong side of the Para Unit, well, that supernatural found his—or her—butt tossed into Purgatory.
Is Purgatory real?
Ella was very much afraid that it was.
“I don’t bite,” Eric murmured. His hand was still offered toward her.
“No.” Ella cleared her throat. “I think that’s my deal.” Because she didn’t want to show him her fear, she put her hand in his.
Heat.
Her breath caught in her throat. And, yes, she still breathed. Her heart still beat, she could still feel pain and pleasure. Despite the tales heard by so many, paranormals were still alive. They could hurt, they could feel…just like humans.
Ella had thought that the man before her was cold. Emotionless. After all, a darkness seemed to cling to him like a shroud, but when they touched—fire seemed to ignite in her hand. Her heart beat even faster, nearly racing out of control. Her breasts ached, as if wanting, needing a lover’s touch. And—
She tried to pull away.
But his hand tightened around hers. She could feel the strength in that hand.
“Is something wrong?”
Yes, you’re what’s wrong! The man before her was far from human, no matter what he wanted to pretend. And she should not be reacting to him that way. His scent wasn’t human. It was just slightly…off. Everything about him was, yet she was still feeling that pull between them.
“Let me go,” she told him, keeping her voice flat by using every single drop of self-control that she possessed.
A faint smile curved his lips. That smile never reached his eyes as he—very slowly—eased his hand away from hers. Before he let her go completely, his fingers trailed over her inner wrist, right above the pulse that raced so frantically.
“I would have thought…” Eric murmured, “That you would be a bit more appreciative.”
“Appreciative?” Ella nearly strangled on the word. “You’ve kept me locked up—”
“In the best room money can buy…”
“I haven’t seen the outside world in two weeks—”
“You’re a vampire,” he said, frowning a bit. “I would think that me keeping you out of the sunlight would be a good thing for you. Something that you might even thank me for.”
Think again, buddy. Sunlight did weaken most vamps. She didn’t happen to share that weakness.
“I want to be released,” Ella announced. “I haven’t done anything wrong.” Nothing he knew about, anyway. The sooner she was away from him and his Para Unit, the better. “I was a victim!”
For an instant, what could have been sympathy flashed over his face. “Yes, I believe you were.”
“Believe?” Okay, she was repeating the guy way too much and her voice had just risen to a near ear-splitting degree. She sucked in a deep breath and tried to get her control back. Back, back, back! “I was chained in that werewolf’s basement. He starved me. He tortured me.” He made me wish for death. Only death hadn’t come. Keegan James hadn’t been about to let his new prize escape into the afterlife. “All I want is to be free. I am not a threat to you.” Maybe. Mostly?
His gaze swept over her. Such a calculating stare. “You’ve been fed while you were here.” A pause. “And you’re certainly looking…better…now.”
“Yes, well, considering that I looked like a walking skeleton when I was brought in, just about anything has to be an improvement.” She paced over to the little table in her “kitchen” area and picked up an empty blood bag. “But this isn’t exactly hitting the spot for me.”
One heavy brow rose as he crossed his arms over his chest and continued to study her. “Why? Because you like to get your blood straight from the vein?”
Actually, yes, but that wasn’t something she’d reveal right then. Though tapping his vein was tempting. Ella cleared her throat. “I prefer blood that hasn’t been drugged.”
He just stared back at her.
“Did you think I couldn’t taste the drugs in it? You’re trying to keep me controlled.” That seriously infuriated her. “At all times. But I don’t deserve that. I’ve done nothing to you!”
“Most vampires don’t taste the drugs.”
She dropped the bag back on the table and realized she’d made her first mistake. I’m supposed to act like every other vampire. I’m not supposed to stick out. “Well, maybe it was because I’d gone so long without the blood.” No, stop, don’t give excuses. That will just draw more of his attention. “You don’t have to drug me. I’m no threat to you or anyone else.”
He seemed to consider that. Then he stalked toward her, and that was the only way she could describe his movement—stalking. Graceful, dangerous, like a jungle cat after prey. She didn’t want to be his prey.
His hand lifted.
She flinched.
“It’s okay,” Eric told her. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
She didn’t call him a liar. After all, she was trying to get on his good side. Freedom had a price, Ella knew that.
His hand skimmed down her cheek. It was odd—a caress. Why would her jailer be caressing her?
Her stomach knotted. “No.”
He blinked those eerily compelling eyes of his. Were they blue or green? It was hard for her to tell for certain. The color seemed to keep shifting the more she stared into his gaze. At first, she’d thought they were a pure green, but the more she looked into them…
Focus, Ella.
She wanted to be clear about one thing. “I’m not going to have sex with you.” Despite the insane way her body was responding to him.
His hand stilled. “Did I…ask for sex?”
“You’re touching me.”
“Yes.”
“And you…want me.”
His gaze sharpened. “Just how do you know that?”
Oh, crap…Mistake number two. She could pick up on his emotions—and, despite his powerful control—Ella had felt his desire in the air around them. But an average, run-of-the-mill vampire wasn’t supposed to literally feel emotions and desires in the air. At least not without first drinking from a victim. Donor. Donor, not victim. “You’re touching me,” she whispered. “And your pupils have gone wide. I know when a man wants me.”
That sounded good. She hoped.
“I didn’t ask you for sex,” Eric said as his hand fell away.
“Then why did you touch me?”
His head cocked to the right as he studied her. “Because…I wanted to.”
“Don’t do it again.” She backed up a step. “I don’t like being touched, all right? That hand shake? That was more than enough for me.�
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He nodded. “Until you ask, I won’t.”
What? The guy shouldn’t hold his breath. He’d pass out. “I’m only asking to be let go! I’m only asking—”
“You haven’t told me your name. Not me. Not anyone here.”
Her laughter sounded bitter, even to her own ears. “You mean the other jailers? The guards who slip in the blood while staring at me with fear in their gazes? No, I didn’t tell them my name.”
He headed over to her couch and just sat down. Made himself all at home as he sprawled there, in her cell. Her perfect, fancy prison that looked like something out of the pages of a glossy home design magazine. “There’s a certain way things work here.”
She clasped her hands behind her back, the better for him not to see that her nails were sharpening into mini-claws.
“Information can buy you a whole lot…” Eric drawled.
“Can it buy freedom?”
“Perhaps.”
“I don’t get it!” Ella burst out. “I thought you were one of the good guys. I thought—”
“You shouldn’t make that mistake.” His fingers drummed against the arm of her couch. “Don’t ever do that. Just because I have a badge, it doesn’t necessarily mean I’m good.”
She licked her lips. “What do you want from me?”
His brow furrowed as he seemed to consider that. His stare slowly traveled over her body, and she—she didn’t like it. She felt too tense beneath his stare. Too nervous and—
“We’ll start simply. Tell me about yourself.”
That would be the opposite of simple, and she wasn’t about to make that extreme blunder. “I’m Ella, Ella Lancaster, and I’m a vampire.” That felt like safe info to give up.
“How old are you?”
Behind her back, she could feel her claws extend a bit more. “Haven’t you heard? You’re not supposed to ask a woman her age. That’s just rude. Extremely poor manners.”
The faintest smile curved his lips. “Are you a new vamp or have you been around for a while?”
“I’m fresh.” She cleared her throat. “I mean new.” Crap, did he know about the slang term for newly made vamps? Freshblood? Surely he did, since the guy was the Para Unit. She just had to act weak and timid a bit more and he’d buy her ruse, she was sure of it.
