“You look like shit,” Nico observed, moving to the side to allow them entrance.
Declan followed the group into the foyer. “Yes, but at least I’ve got a full head of hair.”
“And you smell bizarre,” Nico stated warily.
The sorcerer snorted and flashed his fangs at the jaguar. “You have no idea.”
Surprise lit up Nico’s eyes. He glanced at Ana and then back to Declan. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted as Francesca flew down the stairs, Ransome close on her heels.
“For Christ sakes, she fucking kneed me in the groin.” The werewolf was livid but no one paid him any mind.
Declan stood back as the necromancer enveloped her sister in a hug that was full of tears and words that were hard to understand.
“Where’s Kaden?” Ana asked softly.
“Here.” The teenager shuffled forward, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. He wiped the remnants of a beignet from his mouth and hunched his shoulders forward. “You made it back.” His eyes were on Ana. “That’s good.”
“Good for you, my friend,” Declan snapped. He pushed past Ana and crowded the teen. “I gave you an order.”
Kaden didn’t shrink from him. “Yeah, well, I don’t take orders from you.”
Declan bent down until he was close enough to count the fuzz patch sprouting along the teen’s jaw. The anger inside him was dark. “I don’t negotiate with children.”
“Declan, stop. He did what I asked.” She yanked on his arm and he turned away. She glanced up at him and his breath caught at the look in her eyes. They smoldered with heat, promises, yet he saw sadness as well.
“Anyone hear from Bill?” she asked.
Nico shook his head. “There’s been nothing. Cale was by this morning. He’s heard nada.”
Ana turned to the gathered group. “Let’s call it a night and get some rest. We’ll regroup, catch up, and figure out our next move in the morning.”
She started for the stairs and didn’t bother to look back. “Alex, you’re with Francesca. Daniel, there’s a room beside Kaden’s, he’ll show you.” She paused, hand on the railing. “Ransome, if you’re staying, the sofa in the parlor is all I’ve got left.”
Declan watched as her small form disappeared at the top of the landing. He turned, catching the look in Ransome’s eyes. “Spit it out, LaPierre.”
The tall shifter’s eyes were narrowed. “Just never thought I’d see the day, is all . . .”
Declan shook his head. “I’m not in the mood for riddles. Say what the hell you mean.”
The teens slipped by, with Francesca leading the way up the stairs. Ransome’s eyes lingered a little too long on the necromancer in Declan’s opinion.
“She’s slave to Samael.”
Ransome snorted. “Don’t worry ’bout me. I’m not the one with a problem.” Ransome smiled widely and cupped his crotch. “Ana’s got you by the balls.” He laughed softly. “Vampire, sorcerer . . . that’s some fucked-up shit. Are you officially a hybrid?”
“You’re an asshole.”
“Yeah, but I’m ball and chainless.”
“Fuck you.” Declan started for the stairs.
“I’ve got business at the club, but my men will patrol for the remainder of the night. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Declan grunted an answer. He was nervous. They were out of Hell and back in the real world. It was still the same twisted reality he’d left behind, but his personal situation had done a 360.
He belonged to someone.
He reached Ana’s bedroom and slipped inside. The lamp near her bed glowed softly, casting an arc of light that cut through the dark. His breath caught in his throat when he spied her. She was naked, her pale form glowing eerily as she stood beside several large canvases along the wall.
“I paint,” she murmured, affording him a side profile as she turned slightly. “My father taught Jean-Charles and me.” A long, shuddering breath escaped her. “So long ago.”
Declan could not take his eyes from her.
“He was . . .”
He felt her pain. It punched him in the gut and yet he found himself baring his teeth, jealous at the thought of the mysterious Jean-Charles. “Who was he?” The question slipped from his lips before he could stop himself, and he grimaced. Christ, Ransome was right. The woman had him in knots.
A soft smile tugged at her mouth and she turned fully. Her face was half hidden in shadow, but the red of her lips burned through the gloom and he focused on them as she ran her tongue along the bottom.
“He was my twin brother.” She took a step forward, her eyes shimmering like liquid glass. “My best friend, and for nearly two hundred and fifty years my constant companion.”
Declan unclenched his hands and strode forward until he was able touch the softness of her cheek.
“Where is he?” He thought of the crypt with Jean-Charles’s name inscribed and felt like an ass for asking the question.
Ana leaned into him, her head resting against his chest, and his arms slipped around her to hold her tight. She whispered so lightly he barely heard her reply. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him in nearly sixty years.”
Declan was torn. He figured something pretty bad had happened to separate her from a brother she clearly loved. Should he pursue it or leave well enough alone?
She wriggled out of his embrace. “You smell of Lilith.” She pushed away and took a step toward the ancient bathroom off her room. “Coming?” Gone was the sorrow from moments before. It had been replaced with raw hunger and need.
She slipped away and ran into the bathroom. His eyes fell upon the paintings, but they were deep in shadow and he couldn’t see them clearly.
The sound of the shower tore his gaze away and jump-started him into action. Declan’s clothes were hastily shed. The hunger inside was gnawing heavily, as was the need to hold Ana close.
Steam was already rising fast as he entered the large room. The decrepit light fixture that hung from the center of the ceiling didn’t throw much illumination, but it was enough. His gaze found her immediately.
The tub was a mammoth thing, with four clawlike feet holding it in place. She stood inside, staring at him in silence as water fell from above, running over her porcelain skin, touching the places that belonged to him.
If he could take the time to just watch her, he would. He’d memorize every nook and cranny, every single dimple and curve of her body. But there was an urgent need in her eyes and his energy fed off it. It propelled him forward until he was beside her, touching her and claiming her with his hands and his lips.
The spray was hot and felt like heaven against his skin. It seemed as if he’d been cold for days. The wetness slid between their bodies as they strained together. His hand held her head firmly while his mouth skated across her jaw, nipping lightly as he worked his way to the open mouth that he craved.
He ate the groan that slipped between her teeth, his tongue aggressively tasting everything she had to offer.
God, that he had her now, after so many years of want. He growled and the darkness inside him stirred. The need to protect was powerful and he trembled from the ferocity of it. He would kill anyone who would harm her.
“Ana.” Her name fell from his lips as he broke away. He couldn’t shake the sense of doom hanging over his head. There were still so many unanswered questions.
“No words.” Her voice was hoarse. He saw tiny veins appear beneath her skin. Her fangs poked out and the now-familiar ache spread inside his mouth. She grabbed a bar of soap. There was no washcloth or bath sponge, just fingers and slippery smooth bubbles.
He stood still while she slowly ran her hands along his shoulders. His eyes moved lower, fixated by her small, round breasts as she rose on tiptoes to accomplish her task.
She spread the clean-smelling soap along hardened muscles and damaged, scarred skin. Her eyes claimed his and never left as she moved lower, her fingers kneading, massaging. When her fangs became fully distended, when
they scraped along the side of his straining cock, she did not waver.
He hissed when her fingers closed around his erection and when her tongue teased, stroking in tandem with her hands, he started to pant, and a growl did indeed escape.
His eyes bored into hers. “Keep that up and it will be over before we start.” He slid his hands along her body, yanking the soap from her grasp. The tub was now nearly full of hot, silky water. He turned off the tap and slid down into the welcoming depths, pulling Ana between his legs.
His body raged with need and yet he knew somehow that she needed comfort. Her back rested against his chest and he took his time, running his large, soapy hands over her skin.
Declan cleaned every single delicious inch of her body and took special care to massage her delicate feet, running hands along the arches and in between her toes. She was mush in his hands when he was finally done and the water was no longer hot, but tepid.
Declan scooped her up and slid from the tub, grabbing a large towel as he moved into the bedroom. Gently he laid her on the bed and she stared at him in silence as he rubbed the moisture from her body.
When he was done he tossed the towel aside and rested on his haunches as he gazed down at her. The moon had found her way out and small slivers of light drifted through the slats in the blinds. They caressed her pale flesh in a wash of stardust.
She looked like a fucking goddess.
She sat up and placed her hands upon the torn, scarred flesh of his chest. Her shoulders trembled and she shook her head. “If I could take this away I would.” Her eyes were wide, their blue depths darkened, intense. “I would do anything for you, Declan.” She rose the last few inches and he groaned as her hands cupped his head. She lowered her mouth and kissed his lips, a butterfly touch, but one heavy with meaning and emotion.
Her tongue wove a path of desire along his jaw and she whispered, “Anything.”
The energy changed and it was no subtle thing. Declan frowned, a sliver of unease subduing the passion somewhat. He tensed as her fangs broke skin on his neck and closed his eyes as she pulled from him, taking his blood. It was an exquisite sensation, one that overrode any feelings of danger.
Each draw was like fire over ice. He groaned as his head started to spin and a host of erotic images fluttered in his brain. His own fangs were ready, his body filled with need.
He tried to shift but Ana was astride him now, her grip firm, and he was unable to move her. He’d forgotten how strong she was. Too late he realized something was wrong. She was taking too much.
His eyes flew open but he couldn’t focus. He was losing himself.
There was pain. He started to thrash, but her claws dug in and held him tight. And then there was nothing. The connection was broken.
Declan fell back onto the bed, his head limp upon the pillow. He was cold, disoriented. A whisper of warmth touched his face and forced his eyes open.
Ana’s blue gaze held him firm, but she could not hide her anguish and regret.
“I’m so sorry, Declan. I had no choice.”
He closed his eyes, surrendering to the darkness that called, and her scent lingered in the air long after she fled.
Chapter 33
“Hey lady, watch where you’re going—”
Ana hissed and pushed past the tall eighties wannabe rocker as she slid into the darkened interior of the Voodoo Lounge. The Quarter was still hopping and it was no different inside the club.
She paused near the bar, her gaze moving quickly over the crowd. There was only one face she wanted to see and irritation slid over her when she came up empty.
Where the hell was he?
“Can I get you anything?”
She turned, her gaze falling upon the hardened bartender she’d met a few evenings before. The faded eyes narrowed and the woman frowned.
“What do you want? ’Cause I sure as hell know we don’t serve the kind of refreshment you seek.”
The woman made no attempt to hide her dislike. Ana smiled. Like she gave a damn.
“I’m looking for Asher. He around?”
Surprise flickered in the depths of Sarah’s eyes, but she quickly hid it. She nodded toward the mezzanine. “Ransome hauled his ass up there ’bout half an hour ago.” She shrugged. “As far as I know he’s still chewing the slimy bastard out.”
Ana pushed away from the bar.
“How’s the magick man, O’Hara?” Sarah was concerned. It was obvious in her tone. Ana paused, her lips tight. “He’s fine.”
“Lady, as long as he’s got the hots for you, I highly doubt it.”
Ana ignored the comment and headed toward the stairs. Once on the landing she strode toward Ransome’s office and pushed the door open. The air was thick with the putrid taste of hatred, a healthy dose of blood, and an insane amount of testosterone.
Ransome stood near his desk, hands loose and bloody at his side. He was shirtless, his powerful chest showed signs of a fight. Long smears of blood ran along his pectorals and down his abs.
The scent hit her hard and Ana’s eyes widened, the blue receding to black as she glanced toward Asher.
The werewolf was breathing heavy. His face was a bloody mess and his arm was held at an awkward angle. Definitely broken. She smiled and hoped it hurt like hell.
“Out for a stroll?” Ransome smiled, though his eyes hardened. He knew this wasn’t a social call. “Where’s Dec?”
Ana ignored the question and responded with one of her own. “What’s going on? This some weird werewolf foreplay or what?” She took two steps until she stood in front of Asher.
The werewolf looked up at her, his left eye swollen shut, and sneered. “What do you care?”
“Actually, I don’t.” She bent low and let her fangs slide into view. “At all.” She smiled. “I came to see you.”
The werewolf’s eyes narrowed and he straightened, hissing as he held his arm close, tight. “Whatever do I owe the pleasure?”
“Cut the crap, Asher. You hate me as much as I hate you.” She let the anger inside flush her skin, loving the boost of energy that accompanied it, and clenched her hands together tightly. “I want to know where council hides these days. I need to see them.”
“The Velvet Rope is at the far end of the Quarter,” Ransome butted in, his large frame sidling alongside the two of them. “Same as it’s always been.”
Ana’s eyes never left Asher. “I’m not talking the club. I’m more interested in their lair. ”
“This is my city and even I don’t have that kind of information.” Ransome sounded more than a little annoyed.
Ana snorted. “Asher knows. He’s been in their back pocket for over a hundred years. How else do you think he’s managed to keep that slimy neck of his attached to his head?”
Ransome growled and bared his teeth. “That sure as hell doesn’t surprise me.” He shoved his face in Asher’s. “And you thought to challenge for alpha? On what fucking planet? LaPierres do not get into bed with vampires. That kind of alliance never ends well.” He paused and glanced at Ana. “No offense.”
“None taken.”
Asher’s face whitened and he tried to back away but there was nowhere for him to go. The wall was at his back. The bastard’s eyes were huge and Ana loved that his whiny voice trembled slightly as he spoke.
“I can’t give you that information. You know the rules. Only those invited are allowed inside. There is no negotiation.”
“I don’t care,” Ana bit out. “You will tell me or I’ll drain you dry right now.” She smiled brightly. “How’s that for negotiation?”
Ana pushed past Ransome and sank her long nails into his broken arm. Asher screamed and tried to shake free but she was too strong. Stirrings of Declan’s magick, remnants of their joining flooded her and she considered trying an energy blast, but her fangs seemed to do the trick.
He broke immediately. How fucking pathetic.
“They’re living in English Turn.”
“Where the hell is t
hat?” she spat. “Never heard of it.”
“It’s a gated community full of new money,” Asher managed.
Ana twisted his arm and smiled as he screamed.
“Why, thank you, asshole. Before I leave, I need another piece of information.”
Asher stared at her with hatred, his chest heaving, his eyes flat, black stones.
“I know it was you who tipped off council as to the whereabouts of Jean-Charles and his lover. You put the blame on me. If I hadn’t been out of my mind with grief I would have ended your sorry excuse of a life sixty years ago.” She grabbed him by the neck and brought his face so close she could see the tiny veins that ran beneath his skin. “Why? We were all friends. Why would you betray them?”
Asher’s face was pale, but the growl that erupted from his chest brought a fresh wave of heat to his skin. He bared his teeth and spat, “She was mine. She was always mine.”
Ana fought the sadness she felt as the memories of that tragic night from so long ago swept over her. It welled up until her chest hurt from the breadth of it, and then she let it go.
She dropped Asher to the ground, and smacked him hard across the face. Blood spurted in every direction as he slid into a pathetic heap of animal. She stared down at him for several long moments and then turned, her voice barely a whisper.
“Sadly, Cerise belongs to no one, because you ordered her execution. I wonder how you live with yourself.”
“What the hell are you planning?” Ransome was once more fully clothed and spoke from across the room. He was directly in her path to the door.
“I don’t have time to explain and you need to get out of my way.”
“Lady, I’m not moving and don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m some weakling like that piece of shit over there.”
Ana knew his type. Alpha—used to getting his own way—and strong as hell. “I need to get something from that house.”
“For who?”
“A demon, Seth.”
“Christ, lady, I thought you were smarter than that. No deals with demons. They always bite you in the ass.”
“I had no choice.”
His eyes narrowed. “So spill the details.”
Wicked Road to Hell Page 29
