Descent (Fated Book 2)

by Liza James

  Or can I?

  Shit. I didn't even think of it before, but maybe, if Stella sees the Underworld for herself. If she experiences how life can be down there, how disturbing it is even getting there, maybe she'll realize she could never want a life like that. No matter what she has to give up in order to avoid it.

  I pause internally, wondering if this is how it's supposed to happen. I let my gaze rake over her briefly, staring at her wild red hair and drifting downwards, lazily moving over her shoulders and heavy breasts that fill my black t-shirt perfectly. Her nipples are tight, fuck I can see them pointing through the thin fabric from here and my dick immediately thickens with heat.

  I travel lower, glazing over the swell of her thick thighs and delicious ass, until the hem of my shirt cuts off and I'm met with the rest of her long, milky legs.

  Her eyes cut to me, narrowing slightly in confusion while her brows pinch together. Those auburn, silky lashes fan out against her swollen cheeks and I watch as a slight blush creeps across her neck and rises higher.

  I want that. Fuck, I want her. My cock aches to feel the slick heat of her pussy as I move inside her. Visions of her bound so tightly that she can’t escape fill my mind, her obeying my demands, begging, moaning, calling me—

  "No," I say plainly, cutting off my rampant thoughts. I know she'll think I'm simply trying to control her decisions like usual. Her eyes immediately roll in frustration and just as her pink lips part to argue back, I keep going. "I'll take you. Just you and I, no one else."

  The room falls silent, all of them clearly surprised at my suggestion. Elijah's eyebrows rise high on his head while Luna looks back and forth skeptically. She's always trying to decipher the situation, analyze what's happening and why it's taking place.

  Stella doesn't seem any certain way at all. In fact, she seems indifferent.

  "Fine, as long as I can feed if I need to," she challenges, knowing exactly what she's demanding of me.

  "Oh," I say with just as much defiance lining my voice. "I'll fucking feed you, baby girl."

  I know he's being a shit. I can practically feel the sarcastic spite rolling off of his relaxed shoulders. His arms loosely slide into the pockets of his grey sweats. It's like he's saying, “fuck you, I'm about to destroy you,” without actually speaking the words.

  My eyes distractedly fall to his bare chest. He would stand in front of me like this, presenting his golden skin, tight against the firm muscles of his pecs and abs. That irresistible V defines his lower stomach and hips, vanishing beneath his waistband and simply tempting me to take a deeper peek.

  He clearly has something else twisting through his mind though, and I have no idea why he would so willingly offer to take me to the Underworld. But the itch under my skin is growing more and more difficult to ignore.

  It was small at first, when I just met him and I was still dating Danner. But it's very slowly bloomed into something far more demanding. It settles within my flesh, making home in my blood and turning our relationship into something volatile.

  The more I'm around him, the more we fight back and forth, colliding together and then throwing each other away, the more I feel it.

  I lift a hand and slide it up and down my exposed arm, trying to physically soothe the discomfort and draw washing through me. I have a passing thought that it's my body, my mind, my succubus, literally craving Nathanial and what he can give me.

  Danner fed me continuously and I didn't even feel his way towards him.

  I decide to ignore his last remark and choose to step outside, to find Amelia. Maybe she'll have something to tell me about the Underworld, or maybe I can work my frustrations out through a fight with her.

  That would be entertaining.

  “Be careful,” Luna says quietly as I twist the matte black handle on the glass door and pull it open. I give her a nod, acknowledging her warning, and stride out as I shut the door behind me. It’s light—still morning—but with all the large and shrouded trees, there’s still a shade of darkness that lingers over the back yard.

  It’s a huge area, and there is a four-poster wooden gazebo that Elijah and Nathanial built together. I’ve been excited for spring and summer because I envision being able to create floral arrangements across the thick beams. I want to design pieces that would cascade downwards, and then maybe have a space to read, or create, or just find some peace for a bit.

  Truth is, I’ve missed my job at the veterinary clinic. I left shortly after everything was exposed with Danner and we moved. I wanted to cut ties to my life and hide away. At that point, I wasn’t getting fed at all. I was starving and going into work every day wasn’t helping distract me, it was heightening my sensitivities and making me worse.

  So, I’ve been taking the little spare time I do have to try and figure out what I want to do for myself. I realized pretty quickly after we moved into this small mansion, I love the outdoors and forestry here. But it’s been so cold that I haven’t really been able to explore and take a look around. Florals are something that I want to experiment with when everything really starts blooming again.

  I walk forward, diving into the wooded area behind our home a bit more. I notice the streaks of golden light that filter beautifully through the thick branches. They fall in spots that sporadically dapple the lush ground, highlighting the remaining thin branches from what greenery is still trying to revive itself after the winter.

  There are a few fresh blooms, little pink and purple flowers that lightly scatter a couple of places and I absolutely love it. I appreciate it for what it is right now, a new beginning after a harsh season.

  God, I wish I could experience something like it. Something new, something that gives me hope after these last painful months of manipulation and rejection.

  My mind is quickly sidetracked however, when I hear the frantic ramblings of Amelia’s voice. My eyes shoot upwards and to the left, where she stands in front of a large tree. It almost looks like she’s speaking to it, but her head is hunched downwards, and her hands are twisted tightly in her long white hair.

  I move behind her slowly as I try to hear what she’s actually saying.

  “No, no, no. I can’t do it,” she mutters as her feet shuffle underneath her slight frame. “I won’t. God, I fucking hate them. I do—Okay, I will. But no—” her voice hitches up into a painful whine and she arches her back, like she’s genuinely trying to avoid something in front of her.

  “Amelia?” I ask tentatively, and her head whips around while her eyes clash to mine. For a split second, I’m literally frozen in place. My feet stop moving all together when I take in her eyes, her pale skin and I’m almost afraid at what I see.

  “Fuck,” she stutters as her hands fly to her cheeks and she quickly wipes away the blood that is seemingly spilling from her eyes. They’re red, blood red, and ghosted over like mine. Only hers flow from her lashes and coat her face in shocking trails.

  “What the hell, are you okay?” I ask, stepping forward, but she stumbles backwards until her back hits the tree.

  “Leave me alone,” she says as her hands frantically try to clean the mess from her cheeks.

  “Hey, I’m not going to hurt you.” I step closer, without giving her an option to refuse me. “What happened? Who were you talking to?” I drop my voice into a quiet whisper as I lift the edge of Nathanial’s shirt and tentatively hold it up to her face. I don’t care that I’m standing out here practically naked, that my bare torso is revealed aside from the black panties I wore to bed.

  She eyes me suspiciously and I know she’s fighting the urge to say no, to push me away because of what I am. “I can’t,” she starts, and her hands find mine in order to shove them away.

  “Why?” I say, pressing back and forcing her to answer me. She can fight me here, she can use her hands to try and physically attack me. But she has no weapons, and after all the training I’ve been doing with Leon, I think I could probably hold my own. “What happened to you?”

  Suddenly, t
hose red tears fill her eyes again and she slams them shut, throwing her head back so that it rests against the tree. “No, no, no, no,” she frantically cries as she lets go of me. She fists her hands in front of her, clenching and unclenching in a systematic pattern.

  Two on, one off. Two on, one off.

  “Leave,” she grits the words out through tight lips. “Fucking leave before I kill you.”

  “No,” I state firmly, letting all the dominance I can filter through my own voice. She doesn’t get to push me around, she isn’t the one with the power here. “Tell me what’s happening with you. Maybe we can help, maybe we can—”

  Amelia’s eyes fly open as she launches forward and throws her hands on my shoulders. Her fingers grip into my flesh as she shoves me away, but she let’s go just as quickly. Her chest heaves and falls with heavy breaths and those trails slowly trickle down her face again before a sob escapes her lips. She falls to her knees, her legs going weak and collapsing below her.

  “You can’t help me,” she whispers. “No one can help me. No one can stop the voices.” She shuts her eyes and sits back. “No one ever fucking helps me.”

  I crouch down in front of her, slowly bringing my thumb up to her face and swiping away the trails that had reappeared. She doesn’t open her eyes, but she continues silently crying in front of me.

  “What happened to you, Amelia?” I ask quietly, knowing she isn’t going to answer me, but taking the moment to let her know that I know something has. I feel it, in this strange connection I feel between us. I hate her, I can’t forgive her for what she did. But after living with her these few months, I’ve also been exposed to a completely different side of her. A side that’s confused and fucked up—possibly more fucked up than the rest of us.

  Amelia collapses forward, and I catch her in my arms as more sobs wrack through her body. I’m shocked that she’s even allowing me this sight of vulnerability, seeing her like this. But I honestly think that she’s too exhausted to hold it back at the moment.

  I fall to the ground as she cries in my arms, the blood red tears staining Nathanial’s shirt and spilling over my skin. I don’t care, though she needs whatever is happening between us right now. Strangely enough, I’m okay giving it her.

  I let my hands stroke her hair and I glance back to the house over my shoulder, wondering if anyone can even see us from there. But I don’t think they can, I can barely make out the house from the crowded trees and forestry that lead here.

  Suddenly, I feel Amelia’s body tense in my arms. She goes absolutely rigid and I know she’s gaining control over herself again, slipping back behind her walls and gritty exterior. I feel the vibrations of her body as she yanks out of my arms and falls back on her ass.

  “Stay the fuck away from me, mutt,” she spits the words out, but they’re shaky and weak at best.

  My lips flatten into a straight line at her insult, I’m not even offended at this point. She’s obviously working through something dark and disturbing. But she shoots forward and just as her hand tries to grip my throat, I reach out and catch her wrist before it connects.

  I’m holding her only a few inches away, both of our bodies fighting with tension at the instant change in atmospheric temperature. We’re heated, a rage flowing between both of us and I try to make sense of her sudden personality shift.

  “I swear to God, you tell anyone and I’ll slit your fucking throat, Stella.”

  “Try, I dare you,” I bite back as I push her away and climb to my feet. “I don’t know what’s going on with you. You won’t share anything. But I know you’re hiding things, and I know you’re dealing with something that you shouldn’t be facing alone. So, either buck the fuck up and deal with it yourself or open up and maybe we can help.” I dust my hands down the front of Nathanial’s shirt and turn around without letting her respond.

  “Do you know what you have to do? To enter the Underworld?” I hear Amelia’s singsong voice shout from behind me. She must have overheard our conversation before she came all the way out here. My steps falter, and I don’t completely turn around, but I tilt my head back towards my shoulder a bit.

  She laughs, her usual, bitter giggle that envelopes me and sends goosebumps slithering across my skin. Because she fucking knows something, something that’s going to be painful for me and entertaining for her.

  “Good luck, Stells. Maybe Lucifer will kill you so that I don’t have to.”

  So that I don’t have to.

  My mind lingers over her choice of words. So that she doesn’t have to.

  “No one’s killing me. Get ready to confront some shit when I get back, Amelia,” I reply, refusing to look at her as I continue my way back towards the house. I’m considering immediately telling the others of what just happened with Amelia, when I step into the kitchen and find Nathanial in the midst of chaos.

  Everything is crashing to the forefront of my mind. My raging emotions towards Stella, the anger I feel over the deal I made with Lucifer, what her and I are about to experience on our way into the Underworld. The fact that my body, my mind, crave to own her, to taste her—every fucking second I spend near her, it gets worse.

  I’m addicted to her. And I hate her for it. The thunderous storm that roars through her pleads for me to be the one who calms it. And my volatile sea, constantly colliding and crashing through me seeks only her touch so it can rest.

  She’s my breath of fresh air, but she’s also the quickly tightening noose around my neck. I want to live and die by the same fucking hands.

  I reach for one of the mugs that were left on the counter when Elijah and Luna took off, leaving me here to impatiently wait for Stella’s return. That’s when it happened, when all of my dark thoughts and regretful reminders tunneled through my mind and set me on this path of destruction.

  I throw the mug across the room, watching it smash against the wall and shatter into countless pieces. I notice the remaining coffee spill and splatter across the white paint of our kitchen. It’s a mess, and one that distracts me for mere seconds before I reach to take a second mug and smash that one too. This time, against the fucking counter.

  A glass shard rips through my skin, but I don’t care. I hardly feel the sting compared to what’s happening in my chest and in my fucking head. I have a migraine that’s splitting through me at full force, amplifying all the hatred, guilt, and mistakes I’ve made.

  The glass doors open just as I’m reaching for the third mug and I instantly halt my movements as I try to catch my breath. Stella is standing in the doorway, paralyzed in place as her eyes scan the room and then slowly land on me.

  But what sends my heart racing is the blood that covers her arms and my shirt. What the fuck happened? Her and Amelia got into another fight? Just as I launch forward, Stella does the same, sprinting and colliding against me.

  “What are you doing?” she snaps, reaching forward and attempting to grasp my injured hand in hers. But she doesn’t have a chance, I’m already tightly gripping her waist and lifting her to the counter, pulling her hands out and straightening her arms to assess her damage.

  “Nathanial, stop. I’m not hurt, but you are—” she struggles against me, trying to pull her hands free as I easily hold her in place. I quickly push her hands down and behind her back until she’s pinned. Her tight body presses hard against my own, her sharp nipples brushing against my heated chest.

  “Shut up, for five seconds and let me look at you,” I say through tight lips as I continue holding her with one hand and then let my other fall to her thigh. Her legs immediately fall open for me and I step between them, feeling that lick of fire explode between us again.

  There. That’s my addiction. That fucking feeling of completion, of euphoria and fire every time we’re near each other. It’s a living pulse between us, throbbing and begging to be indulged. I hate fighting this, and after tonight? I know the finality of what this is will be solidified.

  “I’m telling you, you’re bleeding on me. I’m not h
urt,” she whispers, her voice a little breathier than it usually is. I glance down her neck, watching that hypnotic blush begin painting her skin in a pink wash.

  Once I realize she’s not hurt, I yank her down from the counter and turn her around. I roughly press her against the ridge of the surface as I come up against her back. I keep her wrists bound behind her when I pull back my hand and slap her ass.

  “Do you listen to anything I say?” I drop my voice to a whisper as I dip my lips behind her ear. I feel the strands of her red hair as they brush against my cheek, the wisps of each lock as they dance across my lips while I reprimand her. God, every tiny thing about her calls to me. She was designed for me, created specifically for my body, my touch, my fucking mouth and already hard cock.

  “Was that supposed to hurt?” she challenges, but I hear her breath catch in her throat and I know the game she wants to play.

  I want to play it too. But in my game, I always win.

  I let my hand drift to the back of her thigh, gently caressing her soft skin while I kick her feet farther apart with my foot. I slide my knee between her legs, pressing hard against her already soaked pussy. Her breaths become even more shallow, her skin blazes with fire against my bare chest. Even through my shirt that she’s wearing, I can feel the sordid intensity between us.

  Slowly, I lift my shirt up off her ass, exposing her sweet skin and those tiny black panties she wore to bed. I lean forward again and trail my tongue across the column of her neck, stealing a taste. I move upwards until I’m able to drag my teeth across her ear and bite down, right as my hand crashes back against her ass. Harder. Satisfyingly painful.

  She yelps, and then slips into an uncontrolled whimper.

  “Did that hurt?” I mock as my lips move to the soft skin under her ear—as I bury myself in her scent and flesh. My cock is hard and aching to fill her. I want to punish her, to satisfy my own hunger with her pain and pleasure.

  “Yes,” she replies quietly, submitting and arching her ass back into me and grinding against my hard length. I smooth my hand back over where I hit her, soothing, massaging, losing myself to the feel of her against me. I’m slipping into that euphoric high, the one where my Demons are released to come out and hunt.