Everlasting Bad Boys

by Shelly Laurenston, Cynthia Eden

  Enough time to finish this battle.

  Understanding filled her eyes as the mist of dreams faded. “We’re going after him.”

  “You won’t worry another night about the warlock.” He pulled away from her, found his clothes scattered on the floor, and began to dress.

  Serena sat up slowly. “And then you’ll go away. Back to—wherever the hell you were before, huh?” A touch of anger had entered her voice.

  Yeah, he’d go back to Mexico. He had a level-nine demon with a death wish to track.

  There was always someone to track.

  He picked up Serena’s clothes, handed them to her. “Our deal will be over.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You’ll just walk away.” The words were bitten out from between her teeth.

  Luis frowned. “What do you want of me, witch?” He’d fight with his last breath for her, kill for her.

  “More than you can give, dammit.” She swiped at her eyes.

  Oh, hell, was Serena crying?

  “This wasn’t supposed to happen!” She jumped up, jerked on her clothes. Didn’t look at him. “You were supposed to come here, help me, leave and not—” Her words tumbled to a halt, and she shook her head. “Forget it. Let’s go get the warlock and end this.”

  End this. The words echoed in his mind.

  Not yet. “What wasn’t I supposed to do, Serena?” The question was important. He didn’t want to have failed her.

  Not when she’d given him a glimpse of life. Passion. Warmth.

  Things he hadn’t felt or seen in centuries.

  Her hands balled onto her hips. “Care. OK, asshole? You weren’t supposed to make me care.”

  He stilled.

  “This is stupid!” Another hard swipe with her hand. “Look, just forget it. I’m scared, I’m tired, I’m trapped in some weird lust-land with you and I don’t know what the hell I’m saying.” She tugged on her boots, hopping. “Just forget—”

  His hands caught her and held her steady. “I’m not ever going to forget you.”

  For a moment, her lips trembled. Then she pressed them together and shook her head.

  He freed her, then stepped back.

  “You will,” she said, voice steady, eyes wide. “When years pass and I’m nothing more than ashes on this earth and you’re still living, you’ll forget me. Just like you’ve probably forgotten so many others and—”

  “I’ve never forgotten.” The snarl burst from him and the room trembled. “Not a soul I’ve taken, not a loved one I’ve lost.”

  Her breath hitched. “Luis…”

  “You’re wrong if you think immortality is easy, sweetheart. It’s not. It’s not fun, and it’s sure as hell not pretty. It’s dark and it’s cold. It’s finding villages torn to the ground by fucking killers—and seeing the bodies of innocents left in their wake. It’s tracking murdering bastards—and burying the dead they leave behind. It’s—”

  “Stop.” Her fingers pressed against his mouth. “Don’t tell me any more.”

  This life, it hadn’t been his choice. To walk alone, no, he’d never wanted that.

  To kill forever.

  And live in the darkness.

  Torture. Hell, for him.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, and her fingers slid down to cup his jaw. Serena rose on tiptoe. She pressed her mouth against his.

  His arms locked around her, pulled her tightly against him.

  The kiss wasn’t wild this time. Not desperate.

  Softer. Sweeter.

  Tender.

  He tasted her slowly. Savored the flavor of her on his tongue. He brushed his lips over hers, so lightly.

  After a time, Luis forced his head to lift.

  She hadn’t expected to care. Well, in such a short time, he sure as hell hadn’t, either.

  But he cared for her. He exhaled heavily. Why lie to himself? The feelings were a lot more than just caring.

  Lust. Need. Want. Yeah, he felt all of those things.

  He also wanted just to hold her. To watch her paint in the sunlight. To see her smile.

  That wouldn’t happen. It wasn’t what fate had planned.

  At the beginning, he’d thought he’d try to take her. To force her into his world so that he could have a bit of the burning light that he saw shining so brightly within her.

  But he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t force Serena to come into his world.

  Not when she didn’t belong in his life of violence and death.

  She needed life and passion.

  She didn’t need him. Even if she had started to…care for him.

  His mother had warned him of this. Warned that the men in his family fell too quickly, could need and want too much.

  His father, for all his power, had died of a broken heart. After all, no mortal weapons could kill one such as he.

  But the death of his wife, yeah, that had done it.

  Luis gazed down at his witch. “Tomorrow is Halloween.” A day normally celebrated by witches. All Hallow’s Eve.

  A nod.

  “We have to stop him before midnight. He’ll bind you today if he can, and then he’ll try to kill you—”

  “On Halloween,” she finished, voice quiet. “That’s what he did to the witches in LA. Binding, then death.”

  Because the magic was always stronger on All Hallow’s Eve. He stroked her cheek. Brushed back a stray curl. “I’m not going to let that happen.”

  That pert chin of hers lifted. “Neither am I.”

  It would be the end for them, though. Serena couldn’t go with him where he had to travel. She couldn’t, wouldn’t want to spend the years of her life battling the dregs of the Other world.

  The foolish plan he’d hatched in the heat of his hunger and selfish lust felt hollow now.

  He’d just been alone for so long, and Serena…she made him feel so alive.

  Yet she deserved peace. Happiness. A happy ending, those endings that princesses got in stories, and witches never did.

  He’d always hated those stories.

  “Are you ready?” He wasn’t.

  Serena nodded again.

  Then it was time. “Let’s go take us down a warlock.”

  Serena drove to Roswell, knowing the area in the northern section of Atlanta well. There was no traffic on the streets—it was far too early for most folks. She and Luis didn’t talk as they drove. Luis was tense and silent, and after her stupid confession fiasco, she wasn’t about to open her mouth.

  Once they reached Roswell, there were several houses that sported the white columns Jack had mentioned, but only one concealed behind a huge, wrought-iron gate.

  “He’s going to sense us,” she warned, but knew Luis must have already realized that fact. She braked a distance from the house. She didn’t feel the pull of the warlock’s power, not yet, but if she got much closer…

  “Won’t do him any good. A thirty-second warning isn’t going to save his ass.”

  No, it wouldn’t. Not from Luis. And not from her.

  “You…don’t have to come inside, Serena. Let me finish this. There’s no need for you to see—”

  Me kill. He didn’t finish the sentence, but Serena knew exactly what Luis meant.

  “I’m coming.”

  His lips parted as if he would speak, but then he merely gave a grim nod.

  “Luis…” She touched his arm. “I’m not afraid to see you kill. The idea that psychotic bastards are out there and that they might get to keep hurting and killing others—just like this prick has done—that frightens me.”

  His head cocked to the left side.

  “When I saw you kill, yes, for a moment, I was scared—but I was sure as hell terrified more when I realized just what old Jack was capable of doing—and what he’d already done.”

  His eyes were so very golden. She loved those eyes, even when they flooded black with his demon power. “Someone has to stop the darkness, and I think we’re all lucky that someone is you.”

 
“I-I can’t stop it all. I never can.”

  Of course not, he was one being. And the world was so very big. And so very bad. “You make a difference, Luis. To me, to others, you make a huge difference. I-I want you to know that, and to know that I won’t be forgetting you, either.”

  He bent his head. Crushed his lips to hers. “You damn well better not, sweetheart, or I might just have to come back and remind you of exactly who I am.”

  Then he was gone. Climbing from the car. Shutting the door.

  Serena inhaled slowly, then turned to shove open her own door. As she stood, she realized that she wanted him to come back to her.

  Hell, she didn’t want him to leave at all.

  Not enough time.

  She began stalking toward the house. She felt the stir in the air that told her one of her kind was close.

  One of her kind—one that had chosen the dark magic. So tempting, that magic. Offering untold power and, according to some, eternal life.

  “I’ve got him,” she whispered.

  Luis gave a slight inclination of his head. “So do I.”

  Almost in unison, they began running forward. If they sensed the warlock, then he would have to sense them. His warning.

  They bounded up the wooden steps of the porch. Luis blasted open the door with a wave of his hand. Serena darted after him, ready to face the bastard who had tormented her. She wanted to find him and—

  A sudden, fiery pain knocked her off her feet. She fell onto the gleaming floor of the foyer, a sharp cry on her lips.

  The burning cut into her muscles, dug down to the bone, and she didn’t need to jerk away the sleeve of her sweater to know what had happened.

  The third binding mark branded her upper arm.

  Bastard.

  Oh, yeah, she had him.

  But the asshole sure had her, too.

  8

  Serena’s cry iced his veins. Luis glanced back, saw her stumble to the floor. He reached for her—

  “No!” Her face snapped up toward him. Tears slid down her cheeks. “It’s the bind—go! Stop him!”

  He didn’t want to leave her on the floor, crying in pain, but there was no choice. With a last glance, he spun on his heel and stormed through the house.

  He could feel the magical pull of the warlock’s power. There, up ahead, to the right—

  A wave of his fingers sent the door flying inward.

  It smashed into the wall, missing the warlock’s blond head by about a foot.

  Lucky bastard.

  Well, not for long.

  The warlock spun around, a small cloth and a black-hilted athame clutched in his hands.

  He looked at Luis for a moment, then he smiled.

  Luis hesitated. Not the usual way death was greeted.

  “Where’s the little witch?” the warlock drawled, and the knife slashed across the cloth, cutting the fabric into two pieces that fluttered to the floor.

  Serena’s shirt. It looked just like one he’d glimpsed in her closet. “You’re not going to get her power.”

  The warlock’s smile widened. “I’ve already gotten the witch’s power—it’s all tied up and waiting for me.”

  Bound.

  Luis stepped forward and tried to block the image of Serena crying out in pain. His legs were braced apart, and he lifted his hands, letting his claws out. “You’re going to die here, warlock.”

  “Michael. Michael Deveaux.” The warlock shook his head. “Really, if you’re going to hunt, you should at least know the name of the one you seek.”

  The name was familiar. A Deveaux had attacked a coven of witches back in the 1900s in South Carolina, but word had passed that he’d died in the fire that consumed the coven house and—

  The warlock laughed. “Trying to figure it all out, are you, cazador?” He shook his head. “Come now, surely you didn’t think that one of my kind wouldn’t find the secret to immortality, too? Why let the vampires and your sick lot have all the fun?”

  Hell.

  “Most witches and wizards—those fucking idiots—think the dark path just brings pain, terror. Death. But they’re wrong. The dark—it can bring life, and the secret to living forever, it’s so simple, really.” He tossed the knife in his hand. The blade glinted. “All you have to do is steal a bit of magic…” His hand moved in a deceptively slow twist—and then the blade was spinning, tumbling end over end as it flew toward Luis.

  He knocked the knife away with a toss of his right hand. The blade clattered to the floor. “I’m not one of your bound witches, asshole. It’ll take a hell of a lot more than you’ve got to stop me.” He didn’t care how old the guy was.

  Or how powerful the idiot thought he was.

  Deveaux would die soon.

  “I’m stronger than you think,” the warlock growled. “And I know what makes you weak.”

  A scream echoed through the house.

  Serena’s scream.

  Deveaux lifted his hand—

  Serena flew into the room, fighting, thrashing, struggling against an invisible force that pulled her through the air.

  Luis lunged across the room. Caught the warlock in a fierce grip and threw him against the wall.

  Serena’s body dropped to the floor. She scrambled across the hard wood and—

  The warlock slammed his fist into Luis’s chest, the full wrath of his magic behind the blow. This time, Luis was the one who rocked back, stumbling and slamming into the side of a chair.

  OK, so the bastard was strong.

  He wasn’t strong enough.

  “To me, witch!” the warlock screamed, lifting his hands as power whipped through the room. Wind howled inside the house.

  Serena seemed to rocket to the bastard. The warlock smiled that sick, twisted grin as she screamed and shot toward him.

  Luis lunged to his feet and—

  Serena whipped the warlock’s knife from behind her back. “Here I am, asshole!” She plunged the blade into his chest.

  The warlock shrieked, an earsplitting cry of rage and fury.

  Luis grabbed Serena’s wrist and yanked her behind him. As fast as he could, Luis threw up a spell to shield her. The warlock wouldn’t touch her again—not with magic or hands.

  Deveaux pulled the knife from his chest. “You’ve desecrated my athame, bitch!”

  Serena gave a ragged laugh behind him. “Like I give a damn! You’ve desecrated all of our kind!”

  Enough talk. Luis grabbed the warlock. Lifted him into the air. “Tell me, Deveaux, have you killed witches? Bound them, stolen their powers and their lives?”

  The question of guilt or innocence was always asked before death. Though he knew what answer he’d get from the warlock straining in his grasp.

  “Yes, yes, cazador, I have, and I’ll do it again. I’ll kill those bitches and—”

  Truth.

  “Get ready to burn,” Luis whispered and the hot breath of his power flowed through him. His hands heated, the magic boiling beneath his touch and—

  “You get ready,” Deveaux snarled and slammed his forehead into Luis’s.

  Luis growled at the snap of pain, but never released his hold on the warlock.

  The fire of his magic burned brighter. His hands began to glow.

  “I’m not some weak demon, cazador! I’m the strongest warlock who has ever walked this earth! You won’t kill me, you can’t—”

  A gust of wind sent the pictures flying from the walls and slid the furniture across the room.

  Then the warlock managed to snatch his right hand free of Luis’s grasp. His fingers went for Luis’s eyes.

  “Let’s see what you fear, cazador!”

  The dark spell came at him, hard, fast, and too powerful to block.

  His mother. Burning. Screaming his name.

  His father, lost, dying.

  Serena. Three raised slashes near her shoulder. She lay curled on the floor. Fire raced toward her.

  “Luis! Help me! Luis!”

  “Dream t
o reality…” The warlock whispered as his fingers fell away. With a snap of sound, fire sparked near the curtains behind them.

  Then greedily swept across the room.

  “Witches burn so quickly. They’re so weak…”

  “No!” Serena’s voice. But not afraid. Furious. “Don’t let him trick you!” Her fingers dug into his arms. The nails he loved bit into his flesh. “Forget the flames—fight him!”

  But the fire burned so hot.

  I don’t want to be weak.

  She would never be.

  “Luis, forget about me. He can’t be allowed to hurt the coven. We have to stop him!”

  Never weak.

  The fire was too close.

  He gathered his magic, and let the soul-eater loose.

  His hands burned through the warlock’s clothes. Deveaux whimpered. Denial. Fear.

  His eyes widened when his magic was bound.

  The fire around them faded into weak tendrils of smoke.

  Deveaux’s mouth opened in a scream when death whispered in his ear.

  Luis pressed all the harder onto him. He felt the surge of all the dark power trapped within the warlock’s body.

  Power that would be his.

  Every last bloodstained drop.

  Deveaux began to shudder against him. Spittle flew from his mouth and the warlock choked, gasping for breath.

  His death was too easy. For the crimes he’d committed, he should have suffered, writhed in agony.

  But that wasn’t the way of the cazador.

  No, it was for another far stronger than he to give final punishment.

  His job was just to deliver the souls.

  Luis lifted his hands.

  Deveaux fell to the floor, body hard as a rock, breath gone.

  Heart forever still.

  Luis spun to face Serena then. She was staring, lips parted, at the warlock. He grabbed the sleeve of her sweater. Yanked—

  “What—”

  The seams snapped free and the sleeve fell to the floor. The three slashes lined her upper arm. Red, angry and—

  Fading.

  As he watched, the binding marks lightened. The raised skin lowered.

  “You did it,” she whispered.

  He touched her soft skin, smoothed his fingers over her flesh.