Dancing With the Devil

by Cate Masters

  Dancing with the Devil

  The Goddess Connection: Book Two

  by

  Cate Masters

  PUBLISHED BY:

  Cate Masters on Kindle

  Dancing With the Devil

  Copyright © 2012 by Cate Masters

  Kindle Edition License Notes

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  For Gary, always.

  Chapter One

  The cool night air hit Lily MacInnis’ face like a smack, a much-needed refresher after the stale smoke and crowded atmosphere of the bar. Thanks to the rounds of drinks her friends bought, her head swam. She’d pay with a nasty hangover tomorrow. The price of turning twenty-one, though she wouldn’t make drinking a habit.

  Bryn stumbled, her pink-tinged spiky blonde hair bobbing as her grasp on Keb’s waist slid lower. When he caught her, she lifted her head to meet his kiss. “Let’s hit another club.”

  Keb slung a lazy arm around Lily’s shoulder, overdeveloped biceps thick around her neck. “Birthday girl’s choice.” Pitched higher than most men’s, his voice contrasted his dark brown skin tone, leading others to think him less of a threat. Lily knew better.

  “Dancing again?” Lily danced every day, the main reason men flocked to the Polaris.

  Beyond the sidewalk, figures moved within the shadows, shades of black on black. Lily barely lent the activity a glance.

  Until one silhouette pulled away from the wall and stood in their path, thick as the darkness inside a cave and shaped in the silhouette of a man taller than Keb, less bulky, but well built.

  Whoa, that’s new. Probably an aftereffect of mojitos. Lily shook it off, and made a mental note to steer clear of the potent drink.

  Bryn came to a wobbly halt and peered up. “Who the hell are you?” Her grip tightened, forcing Lily to an abrupt stop.

  She sees him? Prickles ran across Lily’s nape. She gave the figure her full attention.

  As if approaching from the depths of the cave, the man’s features grew visible. Soulful dark eyes appeared below quirked brows. Dark brown hair fell above the collar of his black knit shirt, which his broad shoulders and chest filled out, long legs in jeans cinched by a belt at his narrow waist.

  “We dumped all our cash at the bar.” Keb eased in front of them. “Be on your way.”

  Keb sees him, too! “He’s not a mugger.” Lily pressed her lips together. It slipped out.

  If they spoke to him, they saw him. Apparently they’d missed his grand little entrance from the dark side. No one of his kind would cross over for a simple mugging.

  “No,” the guy said, his low voice like a wind across the desert. “I’m not.”

  Keb stepped back, his outstretched arms forcing Lily and Bryn further away.

  “Then what do you want?” Bryn’s hiccup stole any threat she attempted to make.

  The guy fixed a bemused stare at Lily. “I want to wish you a happy birthday, dearest Lily.” He held out a single lily. Pure white lent it a glow in the dimness.

  Her breath returned, ragged. Then she did what she always did in bad situations, and made her face a mask of apathy. All the better to keep the ball of control in her court. In this case, the bad situation spurred confusion tinged with spine-tingly wariness.

  “Thanks. But no thanks.” Whew. Her voice hadn’t wavered one bit.

  Accepting even tiny trinkets gave guys like him too much encouragement. Handsome as he was, she had no room in her life for psychos from anywhere along the reality spectrum.

  The slightest twitch of his eyes indicated displeasure, maybe surprise, and he suddenly gave off a dangerous vibe.

  Oh shit. Instinct braced her muscles, poised for fight or flight, she wasn’t sure which. No, she wouldn’t abandon Bryn and Keb.

  Instead, he tilted his head and clucked his tongue. “Lily.”

  One word. Her name.

  Worse than any physical attack. He’d lowered her defenses with a single utterance that wound through her head, breaking down her defenses. When he spoke it, it was as if he’d reached inside her, touched something deep, his voice striking sharp as lightning. He’d placed the word in her mind; she couldn’t explain it. She’d heard it clear enough, and at the same time, heard it in her head. That was the sensation she got.

  Irritation bubbled up. How dare he use her first name like an old friend? Who the hell was he anyway? She had no idea, and was fine with leaving it that way.

  “We have to go.” She grabbed Bryn’s arm, to rouse her from her stupor as much as move her forward.

  “I understand.” The guy ducked his head and stepped aside soundlessly.

  Too easy. A glance at Keb told her he had the same suspicion. Keb gestured Bryn ahead and strode forward, wide hand at the small of Lily’s back, a barrier between her and the stranger.

  All her senses switched to high alert. Tough as he was, Keb might not be equipped to deal with this guy.

  In passing, she fought the compulsion to look. She lost.

  Head bowed, amusement lit his eyes as he held her stare like they were playing a kid’s game of chicken. Irritation slowed her pace. She wanted to slap that quirked brow, knock the mocking look from him.

  They cleared him without incident, easing her worry. She glanced back. Tension stiffened her again when she saw him still watching.

  “Lily?” he called in a casual tone, as if he’d done it a million times before.

  Something about his voice, his head raised in defiance, ground her to a halt.

  “You’re not my type. Get lost, will you?” True, he had a strangeness about him, a mystique that appealed to her deepest senses, too close to the bad boy types she had such trouble breaking away from. The kind that spelled trouble and regret.

  The kind that infested her world.

  “To every soul is given the key to the gates of heaven,” the guy said, twirling the lily like a kaleidoscope. “The same key opens the gates of hell.”

  The saying she remembered from her childhood. Who used to say it? Not her adopted mother, Jean; she was certain. “Where did you hear that?”

  And why did his words hang in the air like an accusation? They wormed inside her head, reawakening long closed-off doors of her mind.

  After slipping the lily behind his ear, he strolled away. “If you need help, call and I’ll come.”

  “You didn’t give me your number.” Confusion diluted her sarcasm.

  He stopped only long enough to say, “Just call Bodie. I’ll be there.”

  Bodie? Her brain raced to find some trace of recollection. “He is from the club, right?” She never paid attention to the faces in the audience, not wanting to see their leers. Even as she said it, she knew his face had never been among those men.

  “Doesn’t look like any guy I remember,” Bryn slurred. “And I’d have remembered him. He’s hot.”

  “Too many assholes a day to remember just one.” Keb’s arm went around her waist, and drew Bryn close to his other side. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Yeah.” Bryn leaned into Keb.

  “Okay.” Lily let him lead them in the opposite direction down the street, and looked over her shoulder.

  From the same place he’d emerged, the st
ranger melted into the shadows. Bright as if illuminated by a spotlight, the lily hung suspended in the air, then winked into darkness.

  Lily’s shudder dug into her bones. “You’re right, Bryn. We need to hit a dance club.” And stay there all night, so her imagination didn’t freak her out every time a car’s headlight moved shadows across the walls of her loft. The one place the shadow people didn’t follow.

  Maybe it was time for a new occupation. A nice, nine-to-five job with benefits and people who pretended respectable fronts, even if they snuck away from sleeping spouses to visit Polaris. The mere thought made her cringe with boredom. Too bad the ambition to be “normal” didn’t dog her the same way as bad luck.

  I’m used to fighting the odds. She had plans. They’d win out over bad luck or any other barrier thrown in her path.

  ***

  Bodies swayed beneath the flashing lights, silhouettes anonymous in the darkness. People crammed everywhere, each table and barstool. Standing room only tonight.

  Keb leaned between them. “I’ll get the first round.”

  Bryn beamed up at him. “You know what I like.”

  “Oh yeah, baby.” He gave her rear a playful slap, then turned to Lily. “One for you, too?”

  “I guess another won’t hurt.” Only one. She needed nothing more than the music. Already, it twined through her veins, pushing away the tension. Yeah, Bryn suggested coming here because she knew Lily’s sole weakness: nothing got her off like letting the music wind through her, her body responding in the deepest, most primal way. When the rhythm got inside her, she felt complete freedom. The world, like her inhibitions, fell away.

  The otherworld, too. Usually. Tonight, the shadows extended onto the dance floor, mingling with people, slipping between couples.

  She narrowed her eyes and peered at the strange scene. That never happened before either. She half-expected to see Bodie emerge through the tangle of bodies pulsing to the rhythm.

  And half-heard his voice, warning her. Oh, that voice got inside her too, deeper even than music. Remembering its timbre sent a shot of heat through her veins faster than tequila. And more dangerous. The heat ignited to a wildfire. Made her wish he were here. Yeah, she’d love to show him her moves, and love to watch his reaction.

  Sheer craziness. What had gotten into her?

  “You okay?” Bryn’s scratchy voice shocked her back to the present.

  “Fine. Let’s dance.” She grabbed Bryn’s wrist and tugged her to a space on the floor. Not a very big space, but others would make way.

  A man once told Lily watching her dance was like watching an Olympic athlete perform. Her moves so precise and graceful, she stirred appreciation as well as passion.

  She only knew how dancing made her feel: at one with herself, and with the world. Both sides of it.

  The moment her boot touched the floor, it hit her. Bangle bracelets jangled down her arm as she raised them above her head, hips swirling in a slow, mesmerizing circle. A head taller than Bryn, Lily instantly captured the attention of everyone nearby. Closing her eyes, she blocked them from her consciousness like she did at work, where her sensual acrobatics at the pole teased and taunted men to wave bills in the air, inviting her to allow their touch, only long enough to slide the bills inside her g-string.

  When strong hands grasped her hips, Lily snapped open her eyes, ready to roar like a lioness at whoever disturbed her.

  The stranger who stared back silenced her with his dark, smoldering gaze, teasing and daring her with his sexy half-smile. Black silky linen jacket cut across his wide shoulders and tapered to his slim waist as if custom tailored, accentuating his black layered hair falling across his forehead. Strikingly handsome as Bodie. Weird, it was almost like looking at a negative image, darkness edging him. As if he drew it toward him.

  His eyes gripped her. Black as ebony, and rimmed with thick lashes. Maybe the flashing overhead lights made them appear deeper. Lily had to steady herself from falling into their depths. As if sensing her sudden vertigo, his grip tightened.

  No, you don’t. She never let anyone touch her. She lowered her arms, ready to break free.

  He released her, raising his arms, and twisting lower in front of her. He moved like one who’d trained to dance. Only long, grueling practices could allow him the muscle control to move with such incredible finesse. He exuded sensuality and power. His legs scissored around hers, never touching, leaving a trail of disappointment in his wake as he undulated. Now she understood how the guys in the audience felt, watching her.

  The heavy beat of the club music thrummed through her, and her body responded to the rhythm as it pulsed like a heartbeat, blotting out everything except her release through dance. She whirled away and fitted her back near the guy’s chest, her ass grazing his crotch, and ran her fingers through her hair. With every sway of her hips, she sank into an unfamiliar place, dark and filled with unseen tendrils reaching out. Each step robbed more of her self-control.

  A whispered warning rushed up from the recesses of her mind. What the hell was she doing? She never dirty danced with a stranger, never tried to seduce a guy in public, let alone one she’d not even spoken to. Nor had a guy ever tried to seduce her this way, letting his body make the invitation. And in such a tempting way, she found it hard to resist.

  A harsher whisper urged, Stop. The sobering image of herself with this man, sexy though he was, opened her eyes. Stop playing at things you don’t know.

  Don’t know? Dancing was all she knew. What she knew best.

  Black figures flitted between people, nearer and nearer.

  While a girl, she used to give in to fascination and blatantly stare at those shadowy forms, and imagine it a parallel universe populated by silhouettes. Like a barely remembered dream, she’d hear murmurs, nothing else. Never audible words. Occasionally one or two might stop and seem to turn in her direction, causing her to still like a rabbit spotted by a hawk. Then they’d go back to their business. Sometimes she wished she could step through the veil to see their true forms, to understand exactly what their business was. Over time, the notion faded. The shadow people never did.

  Tonight, finding them so close – so much more real than normally – threw her off guard. Get away. Go find Keb. She turned to excuse herself from the man’s company, and met only the stares of strangers. Not the one she expected.

  “Where’d he go?” Asking out loud made her feel foolish. Still, she scanned the faces all around.

  Gone. Disappointment warred with relief. The second time tonight a guy had made a hasty exit.

  Lily found Bryn dancing alone, so immersed in the music, it was the only world she knew. The place Lily had wanted to go.

  She touched Bryn’s shoulder and called over the heavy beat, “Hey Bryn, I think I’ve had enough.”

  Too much, if her strange encounters were any clue. If that’s what alcohol did to her, she’d never touch it again.

  ***

  Zeveriah scanned the swath of dwellings and businesses that stretched as far as he could see beneath his balcony. His sharp nails dug into the marble railing.

  Worthless, all of it. A century ago, he’d have given his right horn to stand where he stood now, and know that because of his hard work, it encompassed his realm. Hades Section Six. As archduke, every resident fell under his command. Subjected themselves to his will. Followed his every order to the letter. Hades hinted strongly Zev was in line to become his CFO, the dream of a thousand lifetimes.

  Yet it meant nothing.

  Not after meeting her, albeit anonymously. Not after seeing her flawless beauty at close range. And especially not after touching her.

  In his silken boxers, his cock burned for relief, engorged to the hilt at the first brush of her hips. And the way she moved, so beautifully, yet so primal and raw... Hell, he could howl. He almost had at the club. Thank Hades he had enough sense to get out while he could. It might have ended in a bad scene.

  Definitely not the way he wanted to intr
oduce himself to her.

  He paced, the hot breeze rifling through his layered hair, cut so perfectly no matter which way it fell, he caught the attention of every being with a libido.

  First objective achieved. He could pass for a present-day rock star, with the attributes he’d acquired.

  Italian soles thudding against gleaming marble, he strode the length of the balcony – what in human terms amounted to half a football field – yet it only increased his anxiety. He spun on his heel and walked again.

  He should have researched further. Her pet likes, pet peeves. What chocolate did she like, or did she not like any? What wine? What fashion?

  He threw his arms out, fists whirling as he released his frustration in an anguished cry. Godforsaken fool. He’d known this night was coming. For decades. Yes, he’d looked forward to it, in an abstract way. It ranked among his spoils, the earnings rightfully due an archduke who earned The Prince more than nine hundred percent above projections. Ruthlessness had its rewards.

  Yet it had no bearing on anything since inhaling her tantalizing scent, a spicy orange that made him want to peel away her layers to taste it. Since seeing her long dark hair fall like a silken curtain, making even a hard-ass shrew like himself yearn to comb his fingers through it. And oh Hades, since he’d seen the sway of her slim hips, how her muscles rippled when she danced, yet her flesh looked so soft, perfect for yielding to his hardness.

  For the past decades, he’d vaguely imagined The Destined One’s first visit here. And he’d been stupid enough to delight in imagining her reaction. Many of her predecessors rejected the notion of having relatives in Hades. Shocked, it always took awhile to fully absorb the truth, oh the awful truth of realizing she was related to The Prince of Darkness. That she must adapt to a new set of rules, so complex they appeared to the ignorant as chaos. That she must marry into The Realm.

  And this time, The Destined One would marry him. Archduke Zeveriah. The Prince had promised. Eons of grueling work, dedication and increasing the bottom line of profitability had earned him the right.