by Mandy Lee
“It’s only a matter of time now.” Keir loped back and forth across the basement in front of B. “My friend will infect your brethren one by one until their souls are all tainted with pure evil, ripe for Satan to call them back to service, permanently.”
Keir gave B a smile that oozed evil. “You may even get to see your little darling get fucked by my demon. Wouldn't that be fun! Ta ta now, sweet cheeks.” He gave B a little wave, blew him a kiss, and took off up the staircase.
B heard the slam of a heavy wooden door and the snick of a lock sliding home. He drew his knees up to his chest and dropped his head in defeat. He slid his hands down to the shackles around his ankles. The chains that bound him rattled and clinked, a sound that was eerily familiar; bringing the past he tried so hard to keep buried right to the forefront. Remembered impressions of pain and humiliation in a dark, blood-soaked demon stronghold assaulted him. Chains rubbed his wrists and ankles raw. B knew his mind was going into a tailspin, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. Filthy floors running with blood flashed in front of his tightly-shut eyes. His skin felt tight as the phantom hands of his demonic captors poked and prodded at him, laying him out on a stone slab, carrying out the physical and sexual torture that would lead to his mental collapse. From across the room he could hear his best friend being subjected to the same pain and humiliation. He turned his head and locked eyes with Gadreel across the room, their gaze hollow.
B peered up at the magic screen Keir had set up on the opposite wall of the basement. Mara was crouched on the floor cradling the shape shifter, talking softly to him. His heart dropped to the soles of his feet. No matter how far he ran from his demons they always seemed to find him in the end. Helpless and hopeless. He hadn’t been able to save himself or Gadreel. Here he was, yet again, a chained up and helpless captive as the lives of Mara and his friends were at risk. He would never be worthy of her love, nor his friends’ respect. B dropped his forehead back down to his knees and screamed out in pain. It was time he finally admitted it to himself—no matter how tough and cocky he pretended to be—this is who he was and he was right where he belonged.
Chapter Eighteen
Mara sighed in relief as she ran her hands over B’s body yet again, reassuring herself that he was indeed all in one piece. He seemed to be back to his full level of immortal healing, all that blood must have equated to a massive amount of injury, but his skin appeared to be unmarred. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of her since she’d arrived at The Advocate. Amir had been with him and he’d struggled to his feet to get to her as soon as she’d entered the basement. Whatever had happened to him, something had clearly changed. Instead of pulling away from her touch, he was leaning into her, getting as much contact as he could. He’d cupped her cheek, run his hands over her arms, and clasped her hands. It was as though he couldn’t get enough of her. The intensity in his eyes harkened back to their first meeting. They’d been at The Advocate that time, too. He’d come to her begging for her help to turn Sergei before he died. Their eyes had connected and she’d felt a shiver run through her body, like meeting this man had been part of her destiny. She’d fed from him shortly after their first meeting. The way their eyes had connected, the sexual heat and electricity bouncing back and forth between them, she’d never experienced anything quite so intoxicating before in her long life. It had felt like every nerve ending in her body was pulling her toward him.
Mara glanced across the room at the rest of the group. They’d congregated over to the side of the portal, and kept shooting curious looks over at her and B. Mara imagined that this is what being in high school would be like — everyone pointing and whispering about the secret crush B had on her and vice versa. They were clearly not used to seeing B act like this. Mara knew it was corny, but she felt warm and fuzzy at the thought that she might be the first girl he’d gone a bit soft over.
She cupped his cheek gently. “How are you feeling?”
“Couldn’t be better now that I’m here with you.” B replied with a cheeky wink.
“Seriously?” Mara chuckled. “You must be feeling better if you’re flirting.”
“The only thing that would make me feel bad right now is if you took my behavior to heart earlier at Brimstone. I was freaking out; I don’t want you to think it had anything to do with you.” B looked her dead in the eye.
“I just…I thought we had a connection then you reacted like that. What was that all about?” She dropped her eyes, unable to meet his intense gaze while feeling this vulnerable.
“Mara, look at me.” B pleaded with her.
Mara gazed up at him through her lashes. “What?”
B placed his index finger under her chin and tilted it up so she was looking him in the eye. “I’ve been through some really bad shit in my life, Mara. It’s left a mark on me that I can’t ignore.” He swallowed hard. “Help me fix myself, Mara. I need you.”
“So, you feel it too?” she asked quietly.
“Of course, I felt it.” He took her hand gently.
Mara frowned. “So, you don’t anymore?” she asked, sliding her hand out from his grip.
“What?” B asked as he reached for her hand again.
“You said you felt it. Past tense.” Mara pulled further away.
“No, I feel it. Present tense. Our connection — it’s strong.” His words poured out in a rush.
Mara stiffened up as he ran his hand down her arm. “Look, it’s not like we really know each other. I felt something on my end, but if you didn’t that’s totally cool. You don’t need to lie to make me feel better.”
“Mara, I’m not lying. I’m just overwhelmed by everything that’s happened in the last couple of days. I’m confusing my words. Please trust me.” His eyes were so full of emotion, beseeching her to believe him.
“I…yeah, ok…look, let’s talk about this later. Right now you need to rest and get back on your feet.” Mara glanced over as the group of fallen made their way up the stairs to the main bar of The Advocate. “I’m going to go up with the guys and get you something to eat. Stay here and relax.”
Mara slid back and crouched, readying herself to stand, when she felt B’s strong arms band around her. He yanked her down to straddle his lap and she gasped in surprise. Before she could recover her equilibrium, B slid his hand up her back and wound his fist into her wild hair. With quick, steady pressure, he drew her lips down to his. If Mara’s heart could have beat it would have been running wild, she’d imagined kissing him ever since she’d tasted his blood. He licked along the seam of her lips, prodding her gently to open for him. Mara placed her hands on his strong shoulders and leaned into the kiss and tentatively opened her mouth for his invasion. He wasted no time, sliding his tongue in to tangle with hers. Mara met the thrust of his tongue as he set an erotic rhythm designed to drive her wild.
Mara didn’t know quite what was wrong, but it seemed almost clinical, detached. That connection that she’d felt with him should have ensured that any kiss would light them both on fire, but she felt nothing. She’d expected to feel that warm heat pooling low in her belly, and the desire to climb all over him, but it just seemed forced. Could she have been so wrong about what she’d felt with him? Was she just fooling herself, wanting a connection in her life that she just wasn’t destined to have?
Mara pulled away from the kiss gently. “That…um…that was quite a first kiss.” She stammered, not wanting to make him feel bad about her lack of desire.
“Hold on to your hat, I’m just getting started.” B started to pull her back down for more.
Mara pulled back. “Not now. You’ve had a bit too much excitement recently.”
B met her gaze and gave her a dirty smile. “A man can never get too much excitement in his life.”
Mara jerked back from him hard.
“What’s wrong?” B asked.
“Nothing. Nothing at all.” Mara said as she got to her feet. “I just need you to take care of yourself right now. I’m going to get y
ou food from upstairs.”
B winked at her. “All right. Just don’t take too long.”
Mara nodded and turned toward the stairs that would lead her back to the main tavern. She walked slowly up the well-worn stone staircase as she tried to make sense of what she’d just seen. When she’d met B’s eyes after their kiss she could have sworn that his eyes had started showing pinpricks of a kaleidoscope of different colours trying to break through the gorgeous hazel that she’d come to adore. There was something off about him, and she was determined to talk to his buddies about it. Shaking her head, she made her way back into the main hall to join the others.
Chapter Nineteen
That vampire really was a hot piece of ass — too bad he was going to have to kill her. He’d have to make sure he took advantage of his current form to have some fun with her first. Keir hadn’t given him any direction about not fucking one of his marks. That kiss had left him hard and aching. He’d clearly fucked up a bit with that kiss. He’d had flashes of hot, steamy sex when he’d taken B’s memories. The feelings he took from B were obviously real, but it seemed as though the captive fallen angel had been having wet dreams about her that he hadn’t acted on yet. That kiss must have taken Mara by surprise. Next time she’d be expecting it. He was going to have some fun on this assignment.
Mara had delivered his dinner a little while ago, telling him to eat up and get some rest, so it appeared as though the shifter had some time alone to put Keir’s plan into action. He reached over and dragged the discarded tray from his dinner closer. He fished around for his knife, wiping it off on the discarded napkin and examined it more closely. It was stainless steel and relatively dull. While it was certainly not ideal it would have to do.
He glanced down at his borrowed body and smiled in appreciation, he really did like this form. In a matter of hours he was going to start shifting uncontrollably until he was able to find another body to duplicate. He imagined his life looked pretty cool from the outside, getting to be different people all the time, but in reality he had no clue who he really was. It was rare for any of his kind to be named as children, and once they hit maturity they had to shift on a regular basis to stay alive. It was a strange life, not having a name or a face of your own.
The shifter turned the knife around, the blade pressed tightly against his stomach. He pushed in hard, the knife slowly cutting into his flesh. A thick, dark purplish-blue liquid began to ooze from the wound as he drew the knife down sharply. He sucked in a sharp breath as pain radiated throughout his body. He dropped the knife down to the stone floor with a clatter. He reached down and slid his right hand into the wound, groaning at the pain as he shifted his organs around like a kid searching the cereal box for the hidden prize. He hit pay dirt and drew his hand out of his stomach with a small glass vial clutched in his fist. With his free hand, he reached over and grabbed up the discarded napkin. He wiped the vial clean, and then ran the napkin over his almost-healed stomach wound. He raised the vial to eye-level. The black tar-like substance inside was alive, moving around of its own accord. Humans joked about bottled evil; little did they know it actually existed. The tiny little vial contained the very essence of evil, Satan’s own blood.
Keir had tasked him with infecting each of the fallen with Satan’s blood. The infection would take some time to move through their bodies and take over their souls, but once it did they would become permanent loyal servants. There was no cure for the infection in the human realm. The only cure was stored in the bowels of Satan’s castle in Halja. Originally, the plan had been to pick them off one by one, killing them outright, but being in Satan’s service for the rest of time seemed like a much more fitting punishment.
Heavy footsteps sounded on the worn stone staircase. As the shifter stashed the vial in the pocket of his jeans, Gadreel poked his head around the corner and gave him a friendly smile.
“Hey, my man. How’s it going?” Gadreel asked tentatively. “You keeping it together all right?”
The shifter looked up at him and felt the usual flashes of memory and emotion that came through the connection he’d made when he’d transformed into B. This was Gadreel. B and the fallen angel had a deep history together, a history that involved torture and survival, shame and humiliation. He saw flashes of blood and pain.
“Yeah, I think I’m doing okay for now.” He added a note of hesitation to his voice. “Thanks for checking up on me.”
“You’re looking way calmer than I thought you’d be after going through something like that again. I’d have lost my shit for sure.” Gadreel let out a nervous laugh. “I guess you’re actually tighter in the head than I am after all.”
“Was there ever any doubt?” The shape shifter replied in his cockiest B impression.
Gadreel laughed. “I don’t know, buddy. I was pretty sure we were neck and neck on the crazy meter.”
“Oh, come on! Why’d you stop flattering me with my supposed sanity? It was stroking my ego.” The shape shifter joked. He was really getting B’s attitude down. “Hey, can you give me a hand to get up here? I’m not quite back to one hundred percent, but I’ve gotta drain the lizard.” He held his hand out to Gadreel.
Gadreel reached down and grasped his buddy’s hand, yanking him to his feet. “Anytime, dude. I’d never want to stand in the way of a much-needed piss.”
“Thanks, man.” The shape shifter clapped Gadreel on the shoulder and reached into his pocket, grasping the vial and slowly easing the top off.
He had been about to draw the open vial out to infect Gadreel when footfalls pounded on the stone stairs. Sam’s voice echoed throughout the chamber as he shouted out a hello. The shifter contained his annoyed growl, popping the top back onto the vial and withdrawing his hand from his pocket. He gave Sam a wave as he moved carefully past him toward the stairs, faking stiffness.
“See you guys in a few.” He tossed back over his shoulder as he made his way up the stairs to the tavern. He really did need to take a leak, and while he was at it he’d have to come up with a plan to get one of these bastards separated from the group so he could start infecting them.
Chapter Twenty
He was losing his mind. He knew it, but there didn’t seem to be anything he could do to stop it. He’d been left alone for what seemed like an eternity. Intellectually, he knew it wasn’t that long, but his mind was playing tricks on him, and it was getting hard to distinguish between fantasy and reality. He saw the images of his friends on the magic screen Keir had left him, but the silence had given way to a soundtrack of screams from his past, and what seemed like a dubbed voice-over of conversations from the present. He watched his friends, but heard past conversations, new conversations about letting him rot in hell, and Mara talking about how weak he was and what a loser he was. Part of him knew that none of this was real, but the longer it went on, the more real it became. When he’d first been left alone, he had struggled against his bonds in a weak attempt to free himself. He knew the Wolframite was unbreakable and there was nothing he could do to get out of this on his own. Yet again he was too weak a man to save himself.
B’s heart shredded as he watched his doppelgänger make out with Mara. He hadn’t even kissed her yet, and here was the freaking shape shifter jamming his tongue down her throat. This evil son-of-a-bitch was out-B-ing him. He dropped his head back down to his knees and hoped that maybe if he folded himself up as tightly as possible he might be able to disappear. His captor knew exactly how to push his buttons. He wasn’t being beaten or abused; the simple fact that he was chained and unable to leave this place was enough to put him into a tailspin.
The clicking of high heels coming down the basement stairs caught B’s ear. He lifted his head up to see what fresh hell his brain was concocting for him. His eyes connected with a pair of blood red sky-high designer shoes. His eyes travelled up a pair of long, toned legs that disappeared under a skin-tight, black body-con dress. Blond ringlets cascaded down to cover what must have been a fabulous set of boobs
, an elegant neck, delicate features, and beautiful cornflower blue eyes. Oh Shit.
“Do you like the dress? It’s new.” Nyx gave B a saucy wink. “I think it does wonders for my tits.” She grasped her boobs and gave them a good lift and squeeze.
“Are you real?” B asked, squinting at her.
He didn’t see it coming, but his head whipped to the side, his neck cracking and his cheek was on fire. B lifted his manacled arm to put pressure on his quickly-swelling face.
“Was that real enough for you hot-stuff?” the woman said with a saccharine smile.
“Ouch.” B cracked his jaw back into position. “Nice to see you again, Nyx.”
“Whatever,” she said, flipping back her hair. “This isn’t a social call, buttercup.”
Nyx clicked her way across the cement floor and grabbed a metal folding chair leaning against the far wall. She carried it back across the room and flicked it open in front of B, clanging it down on the floor a few feet away from him. She sauntered around the chair, swinging her hips suggestively, and sat down; crossing her legs a la “Basic Instinct.” She may be Evil’s little sister, and sex on a stick, but for the first time since he’d been locked up here, B was happy. She had reconnected his addled mind to reality.
“So what can I do for you, Nyx?” he asked, raising his chained arms into her line of view. “I’m not much use at the moment.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” she said as she examined her nails. “You may still have a use or two.”
B raised his eyebrows in question.
“Your friend, the handsome one. I want you to tell me about him.” She shot him a pouty duck-face that would have made a perfect selfie.
