Suzanne Wright lives in England with her husband and two children. When she’s not spending time with her family, she’s writing, reading or doing her version of housework – sweeping the house with a look.
She’s worked in a pharmaceutical company, at a Disney Store, at a primary school as a voluntary teaching assistant, at the RSPCA and has a First Class Honours degree in Psychology and Identity Studies.
As to her interests, she enjoys reading, writing, reading, writing (sort of eat, sleep, write, repeat), spending time with her family, movie nights with her sisters and playing with her two Bengal kittens.
To connect with Suzanne online:
Website: www.suzannewright.co.uk
Facebook: www.facebook.com/suzannewrightfanpage
Twitter: @suz_wright
Blog: www.suzannewrightsblog.blogspot.co.uk
THE DARK IN YOU SERIES
Burn
Blaze
Ashes
COPYRIGHT
Published by Piatkus
978-0-3494-1320-4
All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Copyright © Suzanne Wright, 2017
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher.
The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.
PIATKUS
Little, Brown Book Group
Carmelite House
50 Victoria Embankment
London, EC4Y 0DZ
www.littlebrown.co.uk
www.hachette.co.uk
Ashes
Table of Contents
About the Author
The Dark in You series
COPYRIGHT
Dedication
Acknowledgments
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
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
To Mrs. D.,
Sorry for laughing when you said I’d be
a writer one day, I just really didn’t
expect things to pan out
Acknowledgments
These sections are so hard to write because there are so many people to thank. Like my amazing family, who make room in their lives for the voices in my head. Like my awesome assistant, Melissa, who reminds me to do my calming breathing exercises in social situations. Like everyone at Piatkus, most especially the extremely awesome Anna Boatman. Like my Bengal cats, who clawed at someone I really don’t like the other day… but we won’t talk about that.
Lastly, I want to say a big thanks to you! Yes, you (hi! *waving*) and to all the other people who’ve read my books. Thank you so much!
If you wish to contact me, you can reach me by email at [email protected] or via social media.
CHAPTER ONE
If I were a set of keys, where would I be?
Shoving the drawer closed, Harper Wallis cursed. She’d searched the reception desk, her office, the breakroom, and every tattoo station. There was no sign of her keys, which was a major problem since she couldn’t leave without locking the studio.
Having been raised by imps, she was very security conscious. Breaking and entering was merely one talent that imps possessed. They also excelled at lying, cheating, stealing, and identity theft. She might biologically be a sphinx like her mother, but Harper was an imp in every other way that counted.
Speaking of imps… Harper turned to her teenage cousin. “Did you find the keys?”
“Nope,” Robbie replied.
“Well, maybe if you got up off your ass and looked instead of lounging on the sofa flicking through the portfolios, you might actually find them.”
Heidi, her other cousin who was only five, came skipping out of the breakroom and crossed to Harper. “They’re not back there.”
Harper stroked the little imp’s white-blonde hair. “Thanks anyway, Heidi-ho.” The kid truly did look like an absolute angel. As a demon, she was, of course, far from it.
“Why not just call Raini?” asked Robbie. “She’s the co-owner; she must have her own set of keys.”
“She does,” said Harper. “But I’m not calling her all the way back here.” It wasn’t exactly a simple location to arrive at. Six months ago, they’d relocated the business to the Underground, a demonic paradise that was pretty much a subterranean, hyperactive version of the Las Vegas strip.
Harper’s mate, Knox Thorne, had built the Underground a long time ago, and it was globally popular – mostly because demons were impulsive creatures that had instant gratification issues, loved adrenaline rushes, and were plagued by boredom and restlessness.
“Done,” declared Richie, her uncle. Dusting off his hands, he backed away from the vending machine. “It should work fine.” He lightly pounded his fist on the side of the machine, and it sprung to life with a whir as it dropped a bag of chips.
Harper shook her head. “It doesn’t matter how many times I do that, it never works for me.” His daughter, Khloë – who also happened to be Harper’s receptionist – did it just as effortlessly. “Thanks, Richie, I appreciate the help.”
He frowned at her. “I still don’t understand why you want to work here when you could earn a hell of a lot more money working for me,” he griped. Her uncle could fix anything. He could also recreate any piece of art. He’d produced and sold countless counterfeit paintings, and he’d passed on his expertise to Harper. As such, it disappointed him that she chose to “waste her artistic talent by drawing with needles”.
Harper raised a hand. “I’m not having this conversation with you again.”
Richie grunted. “Come on, kids, your mom will be waiting for you.” Although he was unmated, he had dozens of kids with five different mothers. He was a good dad, though. Financially and emotionally supportive. Never missed a single baseball game, school play, or ballet recital. In that sense, he was very unlike Harper’s nomadic father who could go for months at a time without contacting her, though Lucian did actually consider that to be full-time parenting.
Gathering his tools, Richie spoke. “Where’s your bodyguard?”
“Tanner has the night off, since I’m riding home with Knox.” Her mate was a busy guy, so their work days didn’t always finish at the same time. “I’m meeting Knox at his office and then we’re going out for a meal.”
Honestly, she didn’t feel up to it. She was so tired that her mind was foggy with exhaustion, and all she wanted to do was go home and crash. Not that there would be much point in that. Sleep hadn’t been coming easy to her lately. That might not have been so bad since, as a rule, demons didn’t need much sleep and could even go days without it. But when she did sleep, it was restless and didn’t restore her energy.
“Want us to walk you to Knox’s office?” asked Richie.
She shook her head. “I can’t leave until I find the keys.” In general, she wasn’t a forgetful person, but it had been a long, tiring day and her brain just wasn’t cooperating. “Don’t wor
ry, I’ll find them. They’re here somewhere. Thanks again for your help.”
Richie nodded. “Ready, kids?”
“Yep.” Heidi peppered Harper’s face with kisses and then turned to skip away, but Harper grabbed her by the back of her sweater.
“What?” asked Heidi, blinking innocently.
Harper held out her hand. “I want whatever you’ve stolen with those sticky fingers of yours.”
Heidi pouted and then fished a diamond belly button ring out of her pocket. The little girl could always be counted on to take something shiny. “You’re no fun,” she said.
Harper gaped at her. “How did you even get this?” The glass reception desk doubled as a display cabinet for jewelry and other products, and Harper always kept it locked.
Heidi gave her a look that said, “Don’t insult me.” Then she skipped over to Richie.
He patted his daughter on the head. “You make your daddy proud.”
Harper rolled her eyes. “I’ll see you all soon.”
They said their goodbyes, and Robbie then ushered the kids out of the studio.
Determined to find the damn keys, Harper restarted her search. She checked every desk drawer, the spaces between the sofa cushions, and then underneath the table and couch. Once she was positive they weren’t in the reception area, she moved onto the tattoo stations and thoroughly searched every one of them – still no keys.
Harper’s inner demon huffed at her in sheer exasperation, like she was failing on freaking purpose. It had absolutely no sympathy for her; it just wanted to be with its mate.
Sharing your soul with a dark predator that was essentially a psychopath could be a bitch of a situation at times. The demon had no conscience, no empathy, no ability to love. It also possessed a strong and annoying sense of entitlement that made it a persistent motherfucker.
As Harper made her way through the breakroom and into the stockroom, a mind – dark, familiar, and comforting – brushed against hers. You’re late, baby. It wasn’t a reproach; more like a need for confirmation that nothing was wrong.
She smiled as the velvety, smoky, rumble seemed to slide over her skin. Knox’s sinfully seductive voice truly shouldn’t be legal. I’m sorry, I can’t find my keys.
You don’t think anybody’s taken them, do you? There was a promise of retribution in his words.
No, they’re here somewhere. But as Harper scanned the inventory, she didn’t see them.
I have a spare set. I’ll bring them to you.
She lifted a brow, even though he couldn’t see. And just why do you have spare keys to my studio?
A vibe of amusement touched her mind. Apparently, her snippy remark didn’t bother him. It used to be one of my security offices, remember?
Oh, yeah, she’d kind of forgotten that. Give me ten minutes. If I haven’t found mine by then, I’ll use the spare set.
If that’s what you —
She frowned when he abruptly cut off. Knox?
I need to have a quick talk with Levi, he said, sounding distracted. After that, I’ll come to you if you haven’t already arrived.
If he was doing that “keeping things from her to protect her” thing again, there’d be an argument for sure. But since his mind had already pulled away from hers, she didn’t bother saying as much.
Turning her attention back to the mystery of the disappearing keys, Harper looked in the small restroom and gave the kitchenette a thorough exploration. Nothing.
Cursing, she returned to her office to give it yet another search. Looking under her sketchpads, she froze as a prickle of awareness danced across her nape.
She was about to turn when a heavy weight slammed into her back, propelling her forwards so that she was bent over the table. Just as fast, the back of her shirt was ripped open and a body appeared in front of her as two meaty hands grabbed hers, fisting her own hands and pinning them in place.
“We need to do this quickly,” said a gruff voice.
What the fuck? Knox! No response. A familiar, protective power rushed from her belly to her fingertips. They prickled as the power fought for release. Harper would be more than fucking happy to release it on her captive, but her hands were trapped. “Get the fuck off me!”
“Do it now.”
Someone blew into her ear, and suddenly Harper was at home. She stood in the doorway of her bedroom. It was almost eerily dim. Weirdly, the entire space was bare apart from one thing: a cradle. It would have been deathly quiet if it wasn’t for the sound of a baby crying.
For some reason, the sound made her stomach tighten. She crept forward, feeling disturbingly compelled toward the cradle and —
Abruptly back in her office, Harper hissed through her teeth. The flesh of her back felt like it was on fire. Her demon raged, freaking the fuck out. Harper writhed and struggled against her captive’s grip, scrambling to understand what the hell was happening.
“You want to release me,” she said in a compelling tone that came with the sphinx package.
A dark chuckle. “No, we don’t.”
Her surroundings shifted once again, and she found herself walking toward the cradle again. Time was slow here. There was no pain, no panic, no anger. But it wasn’t real… was it? She didn’t know, so she kept her mind focused on the vision in front of her. The crying seemed louder now and —
Finding herself bent over the office table once more, she blinked, disorientated. Her body bucked and writhed as what felt like some sort of magnetic force called to her wings. They snapped to the surface and fanned out around her – huge, gold, heavy, eagle-like, gossamer wings that were silky-soft but strong as steel.
“Look at the black and red streaks running through the gold feathers,” said the demon subduing her hands. His shock was understandable – they were the colors of the flames of hell.
A covetous hand stroked one wing. Red-hot rage whipped through her, and she writhed like crazy. “Let me go, you motherfuckers!”
“She shouldn’t be partially aware!”
“Well I know that, but she is!”
Knox! Knox! Where the hell was he? Was someone attacking him too and —?
She was back in her bedroom again, closer to the cradle now. The cries had eased a little, as if whatever lay there was calmed by her presence. A part of her wanted to retreat, but she needed to see the source of the crying. Needed to know if —
Arching like a bow, Harper screamed around her gag – gag? – as something sliced into her back. No, into the stems of her wings. The son of a bitch was trying to sever her wings! Tears stung her eyes each time the jagged blade mercilessly cut into the stems. She redoubled her efforts to be free, even as it worsened the pain that was burning her from the inside out. Her heartbeat was racing so fast that she wouldn’t have been surprised if it collapsed.
The male behind her cursed. “If sphinx wings were as flimsy as they look, this would be a lot goddamn easier.”
“I swear I will fucking kill you!” she growled around the gag.
The males just laughed. Laughed.
Her inner demon shoved its way to the surface and pulled back its lips. “You will die for this,” it told them in a flat, emotionless voice that was barely audible, but the demon’s presence still made both males pause for a moment.
“For God’s sake, put her out!”
A warm breath blew into her ear once more, and she was back in her room. Two single steps were all it would take to get her up close to the cradle. She took one step, then another. And there, eyes closed as it fussed and kicked its little legs, was a baby. It looked so tiny and sweet, sucking on its fist.
Harper’s smile was slow but real as she tentatively reached out and ran the tip of her finger over the small hand, warmed by the feel of its petal-soft skin. The baby’s eyes flipped open, and all she could see were flames.
Harper snapped back to reality, pain ripping through her as someone continued sawing into the stems of her wings. Black spots filled her vision, and the sickly tastes of
blood and fear flooded her mouth until they almost choked her.
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