Wicked Road to Hell

by Juliana Stone

  She was hot. In a deranged sort of way.

  She sidled up alongside him and ordered a drink from the bartender.

  “You’re new.” Her voice was husky, held a slight accent.

  Declan nodded. The potion Samael had offered him masked his true signature, and to anyone here he appeared to be just another demon.

  “Where you from?” she asked casually.

  “District Three.” His answer was abrupt.

  She snorted, tossed her drink back, and carefully wiped the excess from around her mouth. “Well, you’re on holiday then.”

  District Three was one level above the pit. It was without a doubt the shithole of Hell and had been his home for the six months he’d been held by Lilith.

  “I’ve never been,” she said, her thigh touching his as she leaned against the bar. “I’ve heard it’s . . .”

  “Hot?”

  She laughed and cocked her head. “Among other things.”

  Declan smiled. He figured she was from the upper echelon of the demon world, the ruling class. They never ventured below.

  It was always Friday night in Hell and she was looking for some fun. Her hand was now on his thigh. Apparently he was on the menu.

  Declan shifted slightly, turned to order another drink, and her hand fell away. He was looking for a way into District Three and didn’t want to offend anyone. For all he knew, she could be his ticket back to Lilith.

  She leaned over the bar, her breasts inches from him, and licked her lips. “Have your drink and let’s dance.” Her hips moved in a sensuous motion, slowly gyrating as she smiled at him.

  The bartender shoved a glass his way and Declan grabbed it, welcoming the coldness of the brew it held. He took a sip and stilled as a familiar scent wafted in the air, teasing his nostrils.

  There was no way . . .

  Slowly he turned, ignoring the blonde beside him. The band was cresting a wave of hard-ass melody and the crowd was jumping, writhing to the madness. His gaze swept the entire room and didn’t stop until he spied her.

  Son of a fucking bitch.

  Ana.

  What the hell was she doing here?

  Anger crashed through him and he slammed his glass down. Already he saw several demons and otherworld creatures sniffing madly, wanting to find the source of this new odor.

  She was in Hell for fuck sakes. Did she think her unique vampire signature would go unnoticed?

  She looked up then and their eyes met. It was like a physical hit to his gut and he clenched his hands together tightly. She was frozen, a graceful gazelle about to be slaughtered.

  He needed to act fast.

  Declan pushed away from the bar, his long legs eating up the distance to her as he dove through the crowd, ignoring the noise, the insanity that surrounded him.

  He didn’t take his eyes from hers. She moved into the shadows along the wall and when he stood in front of her, he had to take a moment, afraid to speak.

  “Are you fucking nuts?” he whispered harshly, moving forward once more, crowding her small frame against the wall.

  “Apparently not as crazy as you,” she hissed. “What the hell are you thinking? Going after the kids by yourself—”

  His hand shot out and he gripped her chin between his fingers, effectively silencing her. She struggled, but something in his eyes held her still and she relaxed.

  Declan couldn’t articulate the absolute rage he felt. She was as good as dead if he didn’t do something quickly. He leaned down, his dark eyes intense, and when he spoke there was no doubt as to the severity of the situation.

  “This place is full of demons and every kind of otherworld creature you can imagine. Right now your sweet-ass scent is circulating and it will be both of our butts served up and thrown into the pit unless we mask it.”

  Her nostrils flared. Her eyes widened.

  “You will feed from me, now.”

  “I won’t,” she whispered hoarsely, “I can’t.”

  His lips were inches from hers. He saw the fear in her eyes and how she quickly covered it.

  “You will. It’s the only way. My blood is filled with a serum Samael supplied. It masks my true signature. If we get enough of it into you, I might have a chance at getting you out of here alive.”

  She opened her mouth but he gripped her harder, until a whimper of pain fell between them.

  “There is no other choice, Ana. If you want those children safe you need to listen to me. This is my turf, you understand?” he snarled.

  “There has to be another way.”

  “I know my blood repels you but you should have thought of that before you came here.” He was livid. “There is no alternative.”

  Ana’s eyes were shadowed, her voice subdued. “Your blood doesn’t repel me. It sings to me in a way that’s wrong.” She shuddered. “And I’m afraid . . .”

  “What are you afraid of?”

  She looked up at him and he was stunned at the emotion in her eyes. His vampire’s facade was slowly cracking.

  “I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop.”

  He pulled her in, held her head against his neck, and whispered urgently. “I trust you.”

  Her breath slid across his skin and he braced his body against the wall with his left hand. They were shielded from the crowd behind him, his frame covering hers effectively. His fear for her was making him crazy.

  “Now,” he hissed.

  Her mouth was against his throat, her body crushed to his, and when he felt the scrape of her teeth just over his jugular, his body hardened, more than ready.

  She broke skin and sank her fangs deep into his flesh.

  Instantly the connection was made and he leaned against her, eyes closed as she began to suckle. He heard her groan and then felt the pull as she started to take long draws.

  It was the most exquisite sensation he’d ever experienced, an erotic high that was instant.

  His cock hardened, his body was on fire with need, and his mind was filled with images of the two of them together. Her small, naked form above him, riding him, letting him fill her in a way he’d never thought possible.

  Declan ground his hardness against hers and felt like he was spinning out of control. He wanted to crawl inside her, to hold her and make love to her. He heard the beating of his heart, loud inside his head, and then it was joined with another.

  Ana’s.

  She broke away with a cry, but he held on savagely. “It’s not enough,” he managed to spit out.

  “I can’t . . .”

  Brutally he forced her head against his flesh and again she fed, this time with an aggressive abandon that made his head swim. His legs sagged and if not for the wall, surely he would have fallen. It seemed to go on forever, but in fact must have been only a few minutes. His body was cold, yet inside he was on fire.

  She wrenched away and he stared down at her. Ana’s eyes were huge pools of licorice, her fangs were distended, and his blood lay upon her mouth.

  He stared at the crimson stain for several seconds. He found the sight fascinating and bent down to gently sweep his lips across hers. He was breathing heavily and rested his forehead against her cheek.

  Christ but his head was spinning. His senses were on overload, and the joy, the sheer fucking thrill he felt at finally connecting with the vampire, was overwhelming.

  “Oh my God, are you all right?” she asked quickly, her fingers flying over his face. “If I hurt you . . .”

  “I’m good. Just need a second.”

  He was, in fact, weak as hell.

  He took a few more moments and then slowly turned. They were still deep in the shadows that clung to the corners, and he saw the blonde he’d left at the bar looking his way. His gaze swept the room; no one else paid them any mind.

  He inhaled Ana’s scent and felt relief. Her sweetness was no longer. She smelled like any other demon in the place.

  “We need to go.” His voice was hoarse. The room was now spinning. If shit was gonna st
art flying there was no way he’d be able to defend her.

  He tensed, expecting her to challenge him, and was surprised when she acquiesced. “Where?”

  His arms went around her shoulder and they started toward the door. “Anywhere but here,” he said roughly.

  They were nearly to the exit when the blond demon appeared, her eyes curious and maybe a little suspicious.

  “Who’s your friend?” she asked. “She on vacation from District Three as well?”

  Declan nodded, his voice curt as he dismissed her. “She’s mine.” He turned toward the door.

  “Sure you don’t wanna share?” The blonde stared at Ana, her serrated teeth glinting through the dark.

  Ana hissed, “I don’t share what belongs to me.”

  The demon smiled. “Honey, if you leave premium candy like that lying around”—she nodded toward Declan—“someone will come along and lick it.”

  “I need to go,” he whispered. Darkness skirted the edges of his vision and Declan feared he’d pass out. He pulled on the vampire, a wave of relief washing through him as she hurried along to follow.

  He reached for the door, afraid to look back, and when he yanked it open, felt the cool air caress his face, Declan groaned.

  They slipped outside, his heavy weight leaning on Ana for support.

  “Shit! Declan, I didn’t want to do that!” She sounded frantic as she whirled around. Dizziness washed over him and he took a second to center himself.

  “I need to get out of here,” he said, grabbing her hand as he started up the street.

  “You don’t understand. What the hell have I done?”

  He heard a dirge of loud music erupt from behind them and knew they were no longer alone. “Now.” His tone was urgent and she was quiet as they made their way up the street.

  Declan fought the urge to break out into a full-on run, but he knew that would be like painting a bull’s-eye on his ass. Besides, the dizziness that had settled inside his head wasn’t going anywhere. In fact it was making it extremely difficult to concentrate.

  They crossed the street several blocks down. Declan gritted his teeth, his gaze carefully sweeping the perimeter around them. He glanced to the right, felt relief when he spied the large clock tower. They were close.

  “This way,” he murmured, tugging Ana along. He was now stumbling like a drunkard.

  Ana gripped his hand, her nails digging into his skin. Her anxiety pressed on him and he shakily swept his hand along her cheek.

  “We’ll be fine.” He winced as another wave of dizziness washed over him. “It’s not much further.”

  “Declan, if I’ve hurt you I’ll never forgive myself.”

  He stilled, his breath hitching in his chest. Ana turned. She heard it, too. Footsteps echoing in the dark.

  He started to jog and as they approached the clock tower, the strange gray mist swirled faster, thicker until they were able to disappear inside it.

  “Where are we going?” she asked hurriedly.

  “There’s a place we can crash, next to the tower.”

  His head felt like it was going to explode, and the relief Declan felt when he spied the run-down hotel, Soul Sucker, nearly brought him down. The building rose thirteen stories into the air, though the last several weren’t visible due to the thick mist.

  “This way.” He pulled Ana along with him and tried to keep it together as they slipped inside.

  The lobby was large. An enormous chandelier hung from the ceiling, teetering dangerously as it swayed back and forth. There was no reason, no breeze to help it along, it just did.

  A grand piano sat upon a pedestal to their right; sitting at it, a demon. A melody fell from his fingers—the tune was off, the notes harsh.

  Good to see some things never changed.

  Declan carefully paced himself and the two of them walked to the front desk. A tall, thin ghost of a man stared at them in silence.

  “We need a room.” Declan nodded curtly. Sweat beaded his forehead, his belly was shifting uncomfortably. He was going to pass out. He just needed to hold on.

  He reached into his pockets and withdrew a thin, metallic card. A gift from Samael.

  The clerk grabbed it, long, wraithlike fingers caressing it greedily. He passed it through a device to his right, grunted, and handed Declan a key card.

  “Ten-twenty,” the clerk announced. His voice was like gravel underfoot.

  Declan heard the door open behind them. He pocketed both cards and turned toward the elevators. Ana was silent at his side, her arm wrapped around his waist, and he was grateful for the support.

  They slipped inside the elevator, footsteps echoing behind them, and as the doors slid shut Declan sagged against the walls, listening to the echo of footsteps fade.

  They rode the lift to the tenth floor in silence. He barely had enough energy to hold on. When the doors slid open, it was Ana who helped him out. She fished the card from the front pocket of his jeans and led him toward the end of the long hall.

  She opened the door, and by this time his head was spinning so badly, the groan that escaped his mouth sounded like a pathetic wail.

  “Here,” she whispered, and helped him toward the bed.

  “Don’t leave.” Damn, he sounded weak. Her eyes wavered above him. The mattress at his back afforded some relief.

  “I’m not going anywhere.” Her hand was on his cheek. “Oh, Declan, what have I done?”

  He tried to smile, but grimaced instead as his gut rolled. He opened his mouth, but no words came. The haze that lingered along the edge of his vision swept across him like a curtain.

  He closed his eyes and slipped away.

  Chapter 20

  Ana stared at Declan in disbelief.

  She’d taken too much.

  Her fingers were shaking, badly, as she traced them over the planes of his face. Declan’s breaths were shallow and she bit her lip as she looked down at him.

  She’d not been strong enough.

  The taste of him was still fresh in her mouth. Never had she felt so exhilarated. So alive . . . and so scared.

  Never.

  A sob escaped her and she rose from the bed. She began to pace, her eyes never leaving Declan’s ashen form. He looked like shit.

  She flew to the bed, pressed her finger against the pulse at his neck, and swore savagely. It was weakening.

  Hell yeah, she’d taken too much.

  A ragged breath slipped from between her lips. If she didn’t do something he’d die.

  She glanced around the room. Dingy walls, threadbare carpet, rickety furniture, and a television that was missing its screen. By the time her gaze returned to the man beside her, a decision had been made.

  Her blood was his only chance.

  Ana didn’t think about the consequence. What was the point?

  If he didn’t take her blood he’d die. The man she loved would die.

  The word whispered through her mind like a secret—love—and brought with it a certain clarity she’d not had before. She had history with this man. Infuriating, exhilarating, and painful history.

  She thought of the night before and what it had felt like to have him inside her. To hold him close and breathe in his spirit.

  She loved Declan O’Hara. Had loved the man for years. She would do anything for him, even this. She had to believe he’d be strong enough to take the change. Other than her brother’s lover, Cerise, she didn’t know another who’d been turned.

  Ana slipped her leather coat from her body, leaving her arms bare. She settled onto the bed beside Declan, leaned over him, and swept her mouth across his.

  He moaned, his eyes fluttered, but they remained closed.

  She didn’t have much time.

  She thought of Jean-Charles and his lover’s tragic end, but then quickly pushed it aside. She had no choice, and now neither did Declan. She would turn him.

  It was the only way. She’d deal with the consequence later. If he ended up a raving lunatic beca
use of the change, that would be on her.

  But she’d rather try than watch him die.

  Her fangs broke skin once more and she sank them deep into her wrist. Almost immediately, bright red, life-giving blood formed along the puncture wounds. Ana gripped Declan’s head. “You need to feed.”

  She held her wrist against his mouth, coaxing his lips open, forcing her blood onto his tongue. He moaned and turned from her. Nearly a minute went by and though her shoulders filled with tension, she pressed forward. He needed to drink.

  “Take from me, now,” she commanded.

  Declan groaned against her skin. His beautiful dark eyes stared up at her. She saw confusion and lowered her mouth to his. She swept her lips across him, tasted her own blood, and whispered, “Please.”

  He murmured something that was unintelligible, his fingers tightened upon her wrist, and then he latched on.

  In all of her three hundred years, Ana had never let anyone feed from her. Never. She was unprepared for the assault of emotion, of want and need that pounded through her.

  She hissed loudly as he pulled from her; each suckle was exquisite, pain-filled ecstasy. She couldn’t take her eyes from Declan as he continued to feed and forge a connection. Time stilled. She didn’t want the sensations to end. The feeling. The need. The desire.

  Her chest was heaving and she leaned closer. “Take more.”

  Their eyes held and as he continued to feed, her body became languid. Slowly she slid alongside him, her arm held tight to his mouth.

  She felt his warmth, the steady beat of his heart as she laid her head against his chest. There was a rightness in what she’d done and how she felt. It filled her with a glow that was not sexual, but one of completion, or rather, near completion.

  She closed her eyes and smiled at the ironic thought.

  She was in Hell. In the space of less than an hour she’d fed from Declan and let him take her blood. He would live; however, his fate was cloudy. If he survived the change he would be vampire. He would live and yet . . .

  Ana was royalty. A direct descendant of the queen. Would Isobel accept what she’d done and forgive her? Would she let Declan live if Ana promised not to complete the bonding ritual?