by Celia Kyle
Caith tilted her head to the side. “It’s been you, hasn’t it? You did something to Dead Nettle. Your hand guided it all, didn’t it?”
She took a step around the altar, eyes scanning his body from head to toe, hunting for any telltale clues that would confirm her suspicions. His skin was gray, no longer the lush peach of life. The flesh on his face was sunken exposing the harsh lines of his features, but his eyes were what struck her. They were no longer the chocolate brown she’d used to admire as they cuddled in bed.
They’d make love for hours, bodies entwined and then collapse into a heap on the straw mattress. She’d seen him as… Not her mate, her wolf hadn’t been intent on claiming him, but he hadn’t been a random male either. She’d loved him in her own way. As much as Satan’s niece could love another person that her wolf wasn’t aching to claim.
Liam had been hers and hers alone. At least, that’s what she’d thought.
Yet, she’d been so very, very wrong.
It wasn’t just Liam who’d suffered for his actions back then. The town of Chicago had as well. The screams and cries, and the agony she unleashed on the population still vibrated in her bones. Her wolf howled with guilt while her fire flared hotter in appreciation of her actions. It wasn’t just those two parts of her that remembered Chicago. She hadn’t killed in battle, had she? No, she snuffed out so many lives because of pride and pride alone.
“You destroyed an entire hive, and for what? Revenge? You took control of the zombies and vamps, you destroyed my car, asshole, and you forced my father to…” She swallowed the sob that rose to her throat, pushing it back into the recesses of her body. She wouldn’t let him see her cry, wouldn’t let him see the grief that overtook her when she thought of Georges. “You forced my father to kill an innocent animal.”
Liam grinned, lips parting to reveal two rows of blackened, rotted teeth. “I failed with the zombies and vamps. It wasn’t until I saw you with that gel, that I realized how to truly hurt you.” Liam pressed harder against Bry, drawing a line of blood over the child’s skin. “For all the evil that lives inside you, you still have a heart. A worthless heart, but one nonetheless.” Those green eyes glowed in the darkness and that smile seemed to grow. “The car was a bit of fun, but the gators… Those were pure joy.”
Caith fisted her hands, battling her hellfire once again. Her wolf’s claws dug into her palms, drawing blood to the surface. The red fluid dripped and puddled at her feet. She shouldn’t injure herself in this way, but it was harm herself or attack Liam which would put Bryony at risk.
“You still haven’t told me what you want.” She’d sate her curiosity and then burn him to a crisp. Done. Just like she should have, or tried to, all those years ago.
“That’s obvious, even to you, Caith.” His gaze collided with hers. “You.” Liam drew another line over Bryony’s body, and she fought to suppress her wolf’s howl. “First, I want you beneath me. I want to possess you, I want to fill you, I want to listen to your pain-filled screams. She screamed, Caith. She begged for death.” The words came with a harsh rasp.
She. His lover. Mary Katherine. Yes, the woman had screamed and writhed, suffering under the twisted weight of Caith’s anger.
“Then I want to destroy you.” Tainted magic swirled around him in sparkling tendrils of power. “But I can be generous. I’ll even give you a choice. You can submit, and give yourself to me voluntarily, or you can watch me feast on this child’s heart.”
“What’s to say you won’t kill him anyway?”
Was she really considering this deal? She’d almost call it a deal with the devil, but she didn’t think her uncle could even be this much of an asshole. Uncle Luc was a lot of things, but he wasn’t one to destroy innocents in this way. He was content to go after people whose souls were already blacker than midnight.
“Trust, dear Caith. Trust.”
“That’s not something I have in abundance right now. Why don’t you quit with all your bullshit and finish this right now? We both know that you’re a lying sack of shit. You were a lying sack of shit all those years ago, and you’re a lying sack of shit today.”
Fury filled his features, that gray skin flushing with more darkness, and she realized why Liam had hit her with the undead first. Because he was so near that condition himself.
“How long has it been? Hundred forty-three, hundred forty-four years, right? So you managed to survive my hellfire. How? Who saved you? Who made you this way?”
“No one made me,” he sneered. “I did this myself. Magic born aren’t the beginning and ending of power. There’s so much more.” A vivid green light filled his eyes. “The born tweens try to keep it to themselves, but I found the truth.” He smirked. “You can bury the truth, but you can’t destroy it.” He licked his lips. “And I survived because you’re a poor excuse for a demon,” he sneered.
You can bury the truth, but you can’t destroy it…
Ugh. She so didn’t want to think about what he’d unearthed that allowed him to transform into this disgusting powerful sack of rotted flesh and bones.
He wasn’t done. “You may be the princess of Hell, but you’re also nothing more than a whiny, weak girl.”
She sighed. Caith could withstand a lot of insults. She’d endured more teasing and taunting growing up than she’d ever admit. But being called a poor excuse for a demon? That was not something she could tolerate. “So… You’re basically saying you read a book.” She prayed it was only one book he’d discovered. “Which just makes you a really big nerd, not some badass warlock or whatever.” She took a step closer to him. “You’re a dork and a bully, Liam. Quit trying to be someone you’re not. I may not have ended your life in Chicago, but you can bet you’re not walking out of this dungeon alive.”
Triumph filled his gaze. “You’re willing to kill an innocent then? The only way to save the baby is to submit.”
“Nothing is going to happen to the babe. Just you.” With that, she struck. She didn’t give him a chance to react or retaliate.
One great shove pushed him away from Bryony, putting space between the baby and the piece of shit she was ready to get rid of already. Everything inside her was put into the shove, every morsel and snippet of power she possessed sent Liam flying through the air. But unlike her other recent opponents, he simply slid a few feet.
Not enough space.
She went after him again, another punch, another slip until six feet separated Liam and Bry. It was enough room for her to place herself between the male and the child. She’d already lost so much, she wasn’t about to lose Bryony.
“Nice. I knew you were stronger. It will make my success that much sweeter.” He peeled his jacket from his shoulders, letting it drop to the ground with a low thump. “Are you ready to be mine?”
“When we celebrate Christmas in Hell.” The last syllable had barely left her lips before she was on him, going after the man who’d caused so much pain over the last two weeks. Her car was an annoyance. But Georges… The brownies…Sam… And now he was after Bry.
One strike of flame became two, then four. Liam responded with his own magic—her red battling his green. She did her best to duck and dodge his blows, but more than a handful struck home. It wasn’t long before blood soaked into her shirt and stained the cloth a deep red. More than a dozen magic-coated wounds peppered her body and she was heartened by the fact that just as many marred Liam’s skin.
They exchanged distant blows, fire and magic doing their jobs for them, but with each new hit, more of her strength fled her body. She wouldn’t last much longer, not when she was doing her best to destroy him and nothing else. She didn’t have the quiet and focus necessary to kill him and leave everything else unharmed.
Could she level Orlando? Sure. Hell, she could rid the world of all of Florida, even the United States. But she wouldn’t allow herself to sink that deeply ever again. Life was worth more than anger.
So she went to him, pounci
ng like the wolf that lived inside her, and taking him to the ground with her body. She straddled him, claw-tipped fingers digging into his flesh as she reveled in the midnight blood that welled to the surface. Her wolf knew the fluid was poisonous. It would harm them, but she craved it anyway.
Liam struggled against her, countering her strikes with blows of his own. It came to a point where she wasn’t sure where he ended and she began. Claws were met with sharpened fingernails while his magic-smeared fists were met with fiery skin. She no longer felt pain, no longer recognized the agony that slid through her veins. Her thoughts were consumed by the desire to end his life.
This went beyond the rage that consumed her in Chicago. It went beyond the craving for blood after Georges’ death. The demon inside her rose, clawing from the depths of her purity-wrapped soul. It wanted to be free, ached to bathe in the blood of the man who’d hurt her so long ago. Who hurt her still.
He rolled their bodies forcing her beneath him as their raging battle continued. He struck out at her, digging those nails into her flash and exposing bone. She snarled at him, baring her wolf’s lengthening fangs. It would take only one bite, one closing of her teeth around his throat, and this macabre battle would be at an end. But it was easier said than done. Because while she tired with the continued loss of blood, he seemed impervious to weakness. While her movements became sluggish, his were as firm and strong as ever.
Her clothing was in tatters, the blood-soaked fabric sticking to her skin, exposing her. Yet he continued to rip at the cloth even more. Then she remembered his other promise. He didn’t just want her dead, he wanted her. He wanted her body. He wanted her now, even though he hadn’t desired her so long ago.
It was easy for him to part her shirt, and it was no effort to rip her bra from her body. His green eyes sparkled as his gaze traced her curves and snarled when his eyes landed on the waist of her pants. She continued to fight him, continued to struggle against his stronghold, and yet she still couldn’t break free of his grip. Her arms were held above her head, one of his hands pinning her to the cobblestones, while he straddled her thighs.
Once again she was captured beneath a dangerous being, once again close to losing her life.
Despite the grief that overwhelmed her when she thought of Georges, she knew Liam would suffer the same fate as her friend. There was no going back. There was no redemption. There was only death. Her demon couldn’t wait, her wolf couldn’t wait, and even the pure heart that came from her father couldn’t wait to see Liam dead.
He reached for the waist of her pants, fingers curled under the hem, and tore the zipper from the leather. Her body was exposed to him, flesh that belonged to Sam, and Sam alone, displayed to this embodiment of evil. He wanted her. This bastard wanted her.
Meeting his gaze, she didn’t see anything left of the man she knew over a century ago. She had thought she loved him, she had been prepared to speak with Helene Renard about extending his life, and she had been ready to promise herself to him until the end of time. Now he resembled a demon destined to call the ninth circle his home.
Well, she would send him there. She would draw on what she desired most, she would go into the layers of Hell and wrench what she needed from those very depths.
As her essence dug into the earth, she slid past the first circles that contained the weak beings. She continued on and flew beyond the circles of lesser demons, and into the home of her uncle. It was where her demon soul ached to live and breathe, it was where it felt most at home, and it was where she collected the hottest and brightest flames. She held them close, gathering them to her, and waited as Liam continued his assault. He palmed her bare breast, his hand running over her exposed skin and then his fingers delved beneath the waist of her torn leathers. She was prepared for him, ready to give him everything she collected.
It burned her, blood searing her veins, scorching her from inside out and yet she held it, waiting for the perfect moment. She was ready for him, ready to destroy and demolish him as she had tried to do in the past. His right hand left her body just as she was prepared to turn him into a pile of ash, and those fingers yanked at his own pants. The leather that held his arousal captive was soon gone. As much is it sickened her, she rejoiced in this additional skin that became available to her touch. His dick was thick and flush with arousal, showing her just how ready he was to violate her body. Yeah, so not happening.
“Liam…” When his gaze met hers she licked her lips teasing him and hoping he believed her feigned desire. “Liam,” she whispered. “I accept your bargain. If you swear he’ll live, I won’t resist.”
She rocked her hips pressing herself more firmly against his aroused body writhing just how she knew he would like. They’d been lovers for so long, she knew exactly how to touch and stroke him, tempt and tease him. The actions revolted her, sending her stomach roiling, and she swallowed the bile that grew in her throat. She had to pretend to want him, pretend to crave him. Bryony’s life depended on it.
“Liam.” He narrowed his eyes, his glare weighing her words, and she prayed he believed her. She added another promise to the pile. “I’ll stay with Uncle Luc. You’ll never see me again. I’ll call Hell home.”
When his hold on her wrist slackened and gradually allowed her movement, she knew she’d won. She let desire fill her gaze, let her body twitch and tremble as if his every touch aroused her. In reality, she was lulling him into believing her silent message.
He wrapped his hand around his dick, stroking himself from root to tip and back again, drawing her attention to his hardened cock. The sight had her fighting nausea once again, but she didn’t let the need slide over her expression. Instead, she gently tugged one of her hands free of his grip and slid her fingers down her chest. She teased her breasts, a single finger ghosting over her soft nipple as she continued her travels south. Instead of touching herself, she reached for his shaft, wrapping her fingers around his thickness.
“You win.” She let a smirk toy with her lips. “One fuck for the road?”
Thankfully the guy was as dumb today as he had been when they were together. Instead of brushing her hand away, he allowed her to strengthen her touch, become more firm in her strokes. Even the hand capturing her wrist released her so he could palm her breast, squeeze and knead her flesh. Now was the time to rid the world of Liam’s hatred and evil. Now was the time to do what she had tried to do so long ago.
The fire bubbled beneath her skin, ready and waiting for her to release her stranglehold on the power. And release she did. In one blinding rush it flew from her fingertips, sailed from her skin onto his and sank deeply into his flesh and bone. She knew what would happen first, knew that his very structure would turn to ash. Next it would eat at his muscles, and cook him from inside out. Then there was his skin… His skin that blackened and charred beneath the strength of her hellfire.
Shock registered on his face first. His disbelief that she’d managed to gather so much of that powerful heat in one pull on her uncle’s domain was almost laughable. But she had, and now she would give it to Liam.
At first he tried to resist, trying to send his magic into her body to stop her, but it was a useless attempt at protecting himself. He knew she was Caith Morningstar, niece of the devil, but like so many others, he refused to see her as anything but a woman.
And in a man’s world, in the world he came from, in a world of On High, tween, and Hell, she didn’t pose a threat. Which meant Liam wouldn’t just be the elimination of a threat, he would be a reminder to everyone in Orlando that she was not a bitch to be messed with.
His body burned, crumbling into a useless pile of ash beneath her gaze, but she didn’t stop. No, she continued, heating him, gathering what was left of him with her hands, and then finally pressing her palms together with a pressure that rivaled the deepest recesses of earth. She pushed, concentrating her strength and heat in that small space until her hands glowed the purest white with the heat.
&nbs
p; Seconds passed, time sliding beside her and beyond her, and it was only Bryony’s soft wail that managed to tear her from her task. As quickly as the heat rose, it dispersed and slid back into the ninth circle of Hell where it belonged. Her breath heaved in the aftermath of losing all that power and her muscles no longer allowed her to hold the remnants of Liam’s body. She dropped the colorless rock clutched in her palms, ignoring the way it tumbled over the cobblestone, and went to the wounded child.
She gathered him close, brushing off the way her wounds screamed with the movements. “Hush, sweetheart.” She pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, “I have you. You’re safe. I have you.”
She let her senses spread through the house, reaching and hunting for anyone else within the home. And she found… Nothing. No Sam, no brownies… No one but her, Bryony, and the woman upstairs.
Which was fine, she didn’t need anyone else. She was okay on her own. Hell, she preferred it that way. She would simply take the baby and the massive diamond that used to be Liam and forget this day ever happened. No dark elves, no brownies, no Nettle, or Liam, and definitely no Sam. Because if she thought about Sam—about his pure red eyes, the stench of sulfur that clung to him like a second skin, and the evil that gleamed in his gaze as he vanished—she may just destroy everything she’d worked so hard to build.
Bry whimpered and she tightened her hold. “I have you, sweetheart. I’ll protect you.”
But who would protect Caith? She almost kicked her own ass for the question. Who would protect her? No one. She’d protect herself and everyone else could suck a dick.
Chapter Twenty-three
Caith bounced Bry on her knee, making the baby giggle and coo with happiness. It’d been a week since the ordeal and the boy had rapidly recovered. The markings were gone courtesy of Momma R and now she had one healthy brownie child in her life.
Where he would stay, no matter what others said.
