by Lee, Kimber
Once inside, I slid my aviators on, shielding my eyes from the psychedelic lights as well as from anyone who might recognize me. It felt strange being there in a T-shirt and shorts when every other female was in a flimsy dress. But tonight wasn’t about blending in.
Tonight was about finding JP.
Even if his sister was a mental patient, I had to know for myself. JP was, as she’d said, an “okay” person. It wasn’t his fault he’d gotten himself tangled with the supernatural.
WWAD, Temp mentioned in his message. He’d probably slice my clit off and feed it to me for disobeying him... yet again.
I winced at the image, feigning enthusiasm when Stromae’s Alors On Danse came on and the dance floor suddenly became congested. Never in a million years was I going to find the guy in there. So I sidled up to the bar, elbowing my way to the front and capturing the gangly bartender’s attention.
“Qu'est-ce que je vous sers?[1]” he asked in a hurried tone, leaning across the bar to hear me over the pulsing music.
“Do you know JP Fontaine?” I asked in English.
He leaned back, quirking a dark brow. “Who’s asking?”
I rolled my eyes at him from behind my shades. See, this was where Temp’s incubus charm would’ve come in handy. “Forget it.”
That was the problem with shady guys. They always had someone paranoid to protect them.
Deciding that my sleuthing would probably only get me killed, I shoved my way to the exit, all the while attempting to inhale air that wasn’t 99.9% cologne.
“What’s the rush?” a deep voice said, close enough for me to make out the words. “Is this club not to your liking?”
I turned around and a hand shot out to grab my forearm.
Fear prickled my skin, peppering it with tiny goosebumps.
Damien Ivanov was holding me, and his grip wasn’t the least bit loose.
“You look like a vodka girl,” he said, casually regarding me from his seat on the edge of his desk. “I have a private bar.”
Sitting on the chair opposite his desk, I could’ve reached out and touched Damien… if I wanted to… which I most certainly didn’t. Andrei was going to kill me, if Damien didn’t beat him to it.
“So you want my last meal to be… Stolichnaya?” I sucked in air. “It’s only fair that you give me actual food and not alcohol. Preferably Italian. I want to die smiling.”
Damien surprised me by laughing. “That’s actually my favorite brand of vodka. The Russians certainly know what they’re doing with that one.” He gave me an assessing gaze before reaching out and removing my sunglasses. “Feisty until the end. No wonder the lord of ‘oversexed’ demons is interested. But who said anything about killing you?”
I stared back at him in bewilderment. The last time I’d seen Damien, he’d been in a suit. Today, he wore a powder blue long-sleeved T-shirt that made his eyes look even bluer, and brighter. Dark jeans hugged his thighs and calves, and some of his flaxen hair fell across his forehead.
No wonder I didn’t exactly notice or recognize him standing by the exit. He looked way too Abercrombie & Fitch-like. Or Disney Channel-esque?
I could’ve sobbed with relief. “So if you’re not going to kill me…”
“I just want to talk,” he said brightly, sitting up straight. He winked at me. “Get to know you. I presume you wanted to get to know me, which is why you were snooping around in my office last week. Correct?”
I glanced at the closed door, my only viable way out.
“Don’t even bother,” Damien said darkly, following my gaze. “By the time you stand, I could be in the process of snapping your neck in two.”
“I kind of… need my neck.”
“Yes, you most certainly do.” He grinned at me. And if I thought he was beautiful before, he was positively Pre-Raphaelite just then.
His smile literally made him glow, made the whole room glow.
I shook my head, dispelling the warmth I felt inside my belly. “What’s your game?” I snapped, balling my hands into fists beside me.
“My game?” He blinked at me. “I have no idea what you mean.”
“I recall you calling me an eavesdropping bitch. And let’s not forget a pet,” I bit out, annoyed that he was grinning at me like we were tighter than Jay and Bee. “And today… today you’re being nice.”
“I was kicked out of heaven. I think that gives me the right to have a bit of a temper.”
I snorted. “Right.”
“If it means anything, I apologize.”
It was my turn to blink at him in confusion. “You’re… sorry?”
“Your demon and I have history. I fucking hate that creature,” he told me, the smile permanently etched on his face even as he said the words so vehemently. “That was no excuse though to treat you, Miss Erickson, with such disdain. That being said, do you enjoy fucking him?”
I flew to my feet, my skin on fire. “What did you say?” I snarled, tilting my head back to look him in the eye.
“You’re filthy. Tainted with the stench of the lord of fucking.” Then, darkness marred his beautiful features, the smile dropping from his face. “Do you enjoy it?”
“Fuck you,” I hissed, barely able to get the words out through my quivering lips. “Go to hell!”
He let out a joyless laugh. “I’ll see you there.” He sidestepped me, striding toward the bar. “You’re an untouchable, aren’t you? Which means you might or might not be a demon hunter.” He grabbed a bottle of water and flung it at me. I automatically reached out and caught it. “A demon hunter… that fucks demons,” Damien mused, shaking his head. “Did you get your job description confused with that of a whore?”
“I am not a hunter and I don’t go around…”
“Oh, don’t justify yourself to me, Miss Erickson,” he cut in, holding a hand in the air. “Far be it for me to judge. I was cast out for committing lustful, sordid acts. I’m no angel.” He let out a bark of laughter at his own joke.
I dropped the bottle of Evian onto the floor. “I’m leaving now,” I firmly announced, sounding more confident than I felt. “Thanks for the heavy dose of creepiness, but I have a headache now.”
In a flash, he was before me, blond hair everywhere. “You don’t leave until I tell you to leave.”
Sweat snaked down my back and my heart jogged a mile within my chest. Damien’s breath tickled my face, cool and minty, and his eyes burned into mine, daring me to look away.
I couldn’t.
“Now that we’ve established that,” he began with a slow smile, “I think it’s time for me to inspect the merchandise.”
He’ll rape you then kill you…
Niggling fear turned to blinding panic. It throttled me, choking the very breath out of me. I took a step back from Damien, the flesh beneath my ass hitting the edge of Damien’s desk.
Frantic. Trapped. Weak.
Even if I attacked him, what good would it do? What good was a roundhouse kick to his sadistic head? What good was my knife, which wasn’t even on me? I would only succeed in pissing him off.
Damien’s tongue swiped across his pink bottom lip. “Relax,” he growled. “I’m not going to touch you.”
“You’re… n-not?” I stammered, hating the sound of my own voice.
He shook his head, swiping a handful of golden curls out of his eyes. “You made it too easy for me,” he said brightly, giving me another disarming smile. “It’s no fun when the gazelle skips into the lion’s den,” he informed me. “No matter how badly the lion wants to fuck the gazelle senseless to teach its master a lesson.”
I scowled at him, at his choice of degrading words. “If you so much as come near me…”
“Of course, knowing that creature, he’s been inside you bareback,” Damien mused, ignoring me. “You’ll have to disinfect that pussy. Only when I’ve ripped you from the inside out will I return you to him. We’ll see how much you mean to him then, won’t we?”
He closed the distance between
us as he spoke. I held my breath.
“I will enjoy shutting you up,” he whispered into my ear, toying with loose tendrils of my hair. “Fucking every orifice, ignoring your desperate pleas for me to simply kill you. And Miss Erickson, you will beg. That, I can promise you.”
A knock at the door became my respite. Damien turned slightly, barking a “Come in”.
I bit back a gasp when JP stood in the doorway, looking alive and well, if slightly worn-out.
“What is it, you dumb shit?” Damien asked, his voice impatient.
“Downstairs.” JP slid his eyes in my direction. “Basement.”
I squeaked out a protest when the angel threw an arm around my waist. “Seems like you’re on a mission to find out all about me, demon’s whore,” he said, ruffling my hair in a demeaning fashion. “Well, you’re in luck. I’m feeling very… forthcoming tonight.”
“You said you’d let me leave!”
“You are a very gullible gazelle, Miss Erickson,” said Damien, removing his arm from my waist and gripping my hand instead. “You’re coming with me.”
I struggled, dug my nails into his skin. No dice. Utterly futile.
My phone was off and something told me Damien wouldn’t just allow me to whip it out.
JP was standing stock-still in the doorway. I cut him a pleading look and received nothing but a blank look.
And then his entire body shook, his eyes widening in horror, in fright. “Help me,” he wailed, his body slamming into the doorjamb. “Aidez-moi. Please!”
Help him? How could I, when I was frozen to the spot in shock?
Damien reached out, grabbed a handful of JP’s dark hair, and slammed the back of his head against the door. “Fucking demon can’t even possess this idiot right,” he muttered, shaking his head as JP’s limp body slumped to the ground. “They’re all useless.”
I was five seconds away from a complete and total meltdown.
“I really don’t know what possesses some mortals to willingly fall for these beasts,” Damien was saying to himself, his iron grip still on my wrist. “They’re stupid, irritating wildlings with no sense of ambition. What’s your opinion, Miss Erickson?”
“Tell me where you’re taking me,” I demanded, my voice hoarse for some reason. Damien stopped in front of a set of elevators. The thought of being in such a confined space with someone who just threatened to rip my insides apart moments ago made my knees buckle.
“You must have a magical golden pussy if Andrei can put up with your whining.” He shoved me inside the elevator once the doors opened and strode after me. “Don’t be offended. Mortals, in general, are whiny pests.”
I watched as his finger pushed a button that made the doors close, sealing me inside my metal coffin.
Where the hell are we going? And then I realized…
B… for Basement.
Chapter 19
I stared at my ring until the ruby became a blurry haze of crimson. But trying to convey every ounce of my fear and apprehension into the little piece of jewelry seemed to be futile. This was the one thing that was supposed to protect me when I couldn’t protect myself—and it wasn’t working.
Andrei isn’t coming.
That was my sole thought as Damien half-dragged, half-carried me into the large, vast space beneath the club—the basement. Above it, the steady thumping of the bassline of a song made the chandeliers (damn chandeliers!) tinkle prettily. The place was packed, and it wasn’t a normal crowd, that I knew.
Men and women sat on high-back chairs, which were arranged in a large circle. And beneath my shoes, I could vaguely feel cold hard concrete. But it was the figure inside the circle that made my heart race. It was a little inconspicuous at first, but as I got closer I could make out a young woman tied up in an uncomfortable-looking wooden chair. I instantly recognized her as one of the college students who had been standing outside the club a few days ago.
“What the fuck?” I twisted to get a look at Damien, who was just as comfortable hovering in the background as he probably was in the limelight.
“Welcome to the Russian Inquisition, Miss Erickson,” he said, his voice eerily calm. “You have a front-row seat. You should be honored.”
He shoved me into the waiting arms of his henchman—one of many, I’m sure—before sauntering into the ring—for that was what it was, and approaching the young woman. She had glassy red-rimmed eyes and a split bottom lip. I tasted bile.
“Do you claim to hear the voice of God, Miss Roche?” Damien asked her, digging a hand into her unruly brown curls and tugging hard so that she was forced to look up at him.
“Yes,” she answered, her voice nothing more than a whisper.
“I can’t hear you, Miss Roche. Perhaps you should speak louder.”
“Yes!”
“You’re a liar. Where is your God now? Why isn’t He saving you?”
She remained silent, and that was answer enough.
“Let me go!” I hissed, sensing what was coming. I tried to yank my arm away from the man, but it was utterly useless.
In response, he rolled his eyes down at me and tugged me to him, his arm snaking around my waist.
“Maybe we should put you in the ring, hmm?” His hot breath fanned the shell of my right ear and I instantly recoiled.
“Maybe you should go fuck yourself,” I spat. “That girl’s barely a teenager!” I screamed the last part out, praying that someone would be decent enough to feel even a hint of fucking remorse.
But no.
The scene was disgusting. Damien didn’t physically harm the girl, but it was clear that she was broken inside already. Then he repeated the question, “Where is your God now?” And her shoulders sagged.
“Why would You talk to this mortal and not to me?” Damien growled, looking up at the ceiling. “Save her now! Save her!”
“Lord, God of vengeance, God of vengeance, shine forth,” the girl murmured. “Rise up, judge of the earth; repay to the proud what they deserve!”[2]
“Psalm 94. How quaint,” Damien sneered, lowering his face to hers. “Say hello to Him for me, Miss Roche.”
Meanwhile, Damien’s henchman hissed, “You need a closer look,” as he dragged me to the frontline.
People parted for him like the Red Sea, and before I knew it, I had a highly unwanted front-row seat to how long the brunette had endured emotional and physical torture. Eyes swollen shut and one lip torn, she was held up on the chair only by the rope around her upper body.
She’s dying, I thought in horror.
And next thing I knew, I used all of my strength to whip around and punch the tall man in his long, almost elegant throat, so hard that he instantly released me, wheezing a flurry of curses that would make Satan blush. But I didn’t hang around to listen.
In all the commotion and shouts of “Kill her!” and “Her god won’t save her!” that were brought on by Damien’s sudden grip on the girl’s neck, nobody noticed that I’d clouted the demon holding me. I could’ve run, could’ve unassumingly crept away and sprinted upstairs to relative safety.
But that wasn’t who I was.
Kickboxing was something I did to keep fit, flexible and strong enough so I wouldn’t be helpless in an alleyway. The funny thing about doing something you love is that even though you haven’t done it in a long time, your muscles remember. Your brain remembers. It’s like riding a bike.
So I made a frantic dash to the makeshift ring and lashed out at Damien, but he was faster. In one effortless move, he crushed the girl’s windpipe with his bare hand. Then, with a finger to his lips, he vanished into thin air.
Cheering from the crowd was deafening, but funnily enough, no one lunged after me. I mean, I was more than prepared to die even if my attempt at saving someone else was a complete and total failure.
At least I tried.
“Oh, God,” I breathed, pressing two fingers against the side of the girl’s neck. There was no pulse there… nothing but broken bones and purpling marks
. She was gone.
She was so young. I couldn’t understand how someone could be this evil. Evil enough to hammer a baby-faced redhead, who was still wearing little black Mary Janes. Then I realized that the “why” didn’t matter. Andrei had already said it: Damien did things for the hell of it.
“Did you think you could save her? Do you think you can save any of them?” Damien’s smooth voice came from behind me.
It took me half a second to realize that the room was jarringly quiet. The mob’s sudden shift from chaotic uproar to statue-like stillness was creepy as hell.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked, my voice surprisingly calm as I crumpled to the ground, unable to stand any longer.
“Can you imagine being denied entrance to the only home you’ve ever known, Miss Erickson?” Damien stared down at me, looking godlike and freaking innocent. “Unable to communicate with the One who should have loved you unconditionally? I suppose that His unconditional love only applies to you mortals.”
I went from being a “demon’s slut” to an esteemed “Miss Erickson”. His “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde” shtick was getting old fast. I bit back a scathing response and just slowly undid the knots of the rope around the young woman. It was a blessing that I wasn’t convulsing from being around so many supernatural creatures. That could only mean that the crowd was made up of humans—humans who were little more than vessels for Damien’s demon cronies. They were probably trapped in their own bodies, watching the world from the inside out.
“No, I don’t think you truly know what that is like,” Damien surmised, crouching down low beside me. “Well, I do. And if these human girls can indeed commune with God, what better way to exact my revenge than to take them away from Him?” He was running his hand up and down the girl’s pantyhose covered thigh. I yearned to chop that wandering hand off.
“You humans are so expendable. Kill one and a human female breeds more,” Damien went on, chuckling to himself. “Do you know that every second, four of you inferior beings pop out? You’re like rabbits, but less tasty.” He continued his exploration of the girl’s leg. “So I figured, if I’m stuck as a godforsaken being on this godforsaken planet, I might as well enjoy myself. Right, guys?” He gestured to his mob of merry demons and they cheered as if he were a talk show host.
