“The Families, are they still ready and willing? We must ensure they are ready to move at a moment’s notice?”
“Domenico has been unreachable since the recent publicity, but Franky assures me that they have the needed congregation. Marcola is still detained, but he calls weekly, always speaking kindly to Giovanni. All reports show that Sao Paulo has well over the needed number. Sedat has promised us every member of the Grey Wolves, but I am assuming that is just his frustration with their behavior than an actual promise. Either way, Istanbul is secure. Lagos is so tied in with the Italians that I am not worried about anything there. Big Tony is a dick, but he is very efficient. Shinobu is a very honorable man despite his viciousness. His word is golden for Tokyo. Mick has moved his boys to Sydney, and Lubis is ready to hand over all of Indonesia.”
With an audible sigh of relief, Izzy smiled. “Aosoth, what you’ve done is—”
Before she could express her appreciation, the intercom sounded. “Ladies, if you would like to join us, we are finishing up here.”
The meeting had gone well, and Raf beamed as they left the hotel. Turning to Izzy, he asked, “Have dinner with me?”
She could tell by the surprised look in his eyes he had spoken without thinking, a spur of the moment gesture. “I’d love too, Rafael. Thank you. There’s a lovely little bistro just down the street, we can walk.”
The sidewalks were already crowding with people as they wandered in and out of the shops, enjoying the end of a warm day. The buzz of humanity ebbed and flowed, rubbing like sandpaper on Izzy’s skin as she tried hard to smile and nod at Rafael’s enthusiastic retelling of Giovanni’s plans for the portrait. With each step, the anger broiled up in her, reminding her of all the pretentious and spoiled little creatures she would soon help annihilate. Even inside the small bistro, the overwhelming sense of being trapped among vermin filled her.
“Iyzebel, I can’t thank you and your brother enough. You’ve changed my life. I was having a hard time before all of this.”
“Don’t think a thing of it, Raf.” Izzy laughed, tossing her hair in the gentle breeze and touching his arm. “We are so bored most of the time with all the business and such. It’s fun to dabble in the arts now and then. You earned this with your talent; we just gave you a nudge in the right direction.”
Oh for the love of the darkness, I hate flirting with simpleminded humans. She gave him another beaming smile. At least this really shouldn’t be that hard. He’s obviously not the demon slayer that the angel Rafael was.
Even as her demon raged inside, she batted her long lashes up at Rafael and smiled.
She let him pull out her chair, buy her lunch, and talk to her as if she were some sort of simpering female. Not truly unbearable, but not exactly pleasant. The longer she spent around him, the less irritation and hunger she felt.
Feeling more comfortable with his close proximity, Izzy reached out and touched his hand, eyes held wide and lips pouting a bit. “Thank you for painting me. I am truly honored.” The sensation of touching his skin made the demon in her growl. Images of the culling flashed in her mind as she struggled to focus on Rafael’s face and words.
He flushed, not the light pink shade over his olive cheeks, but truly a brilliant red. “I know it sounds insane, but I can’t get you out of my head. I-I can’t explain it. It’s as if I was meant to paint you. Would you pose for me, Izzy? Let me paint you as you, and not just these crazy visions in my head. Please?”
She’d thought it would take more work to get to him, but he’d made it simple. A chance for them to be alone, in his studio, with no one to interfere; she could almost taste her victory. Ashur would be pleased.
“I would love to!” she didn’t have to fake her enthusiasm. He didn’t have to know that it wasn’t the idea of being his model that had her nearly percolating in her seat.
“Really? We can go right now. My studio isn’t too far away. It’s still early. We’d have time to get the first setting done.”
“Raf, slow down. I can’t do it today. I—”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” His face fell in defeat. “I know you’re busy. I shouldn’t have asked. You don’t have to. Please don’t feel obligated.”
Iyzebel laughed, not her usual seductive and breathless chuckle, but a genuine laugh. “Rafael, I’m not making excuses. Ashur will be expecting a full report of how your meeting went with Giovanni. He keeps a very close eye on his investments.”
His eyes lit up once more, “Tomorrow? Could we do it then?”
“Yes, tomorrow evening. Should I wear something special? Do I need to do anything before coming over?”
“No. No. Dress comfortably, and whenever you can make time, I will be ready.” He borrowed a pen from a passing waitress, scribbled the address down, and pressed it into her palm.
Cursing her traitorous body for the zing of attraction caused by his touch, Izzy pulled her fingers away. The demon’s hunger rose up and gnawed at her insides like a rabid dog, and the paper grew damp in her palm. Trying hard not to sneer, she promised to call him as soon as she was able to get away from the tediousness of reporting to Ashur.
****
The images had come and gone the entire time they’d been together. At the Italian man’s apartment, Raf had glimpsed Izzy strung up by her ankles and gutted. Her blood had been a crimson waterfall cascading down onto the pale marble. On the street, he’d seen her drawn and quartered by four powerful horses, her body stretched and broken until her agonizing screams had echoed against the brick buildings.
The worst had come in the café, her touch rocking him so hard that he’d nearly confessed the gore and death he envisioned. The short and vivid flash of her had only lasted seconds, but it had been enough to bring the blood rushing into his face as shame filled him.
He’d seen himself standing over her as she pleaded for mercy, heavy wings extended behind him as he raised the sword, and his voice full of hatred. “I shall cast you out with the finger of God, demon.” His sword had come down, the sharpened edge slicing through her neck in one clean swoop. As her head fell to the ground in a spray of blood, the vision had ended.
She’d overlooked his stammering embarrassment, had even seemed flattered by it. Without thinking, he’d begged her to come to his studio. Watching her walk out of the café, Raf stared with longing at the figure she cut. Something about Iyzebel was different from any other woman he’d ever met. Even Sheila, the one he’d almost married, hadn’t inspired him as Iyzebel.
Yes, and you also didn’t fantasize about killing Sheila.
Chapter Seven
“How’d it go?” Ashur met her in the foyer, looking unusually anxious.
“For Hell’s sake, Ash! Give me a minute to get in the door. I’m tired.” Striding into the den, she ignored the glowering looks cast at her back. “Save the evil eye for someone who hasn’t spent the day surrounded by flocks of humans. I need a drink.”
The study was one of her favorite places in the massive house. Filled with dark wood and red leather furniture, it stilled smelled of the former owner’s black cherry tobacco and spiced rum. Her favorite aspect of the old world style room was the large globe that set near the desk. Striding over, she gently lifted the lid, revealing several bottles of aged Macallan whiskey.
“Must you be such an expensive drunk, Izzy,” Ash sighed from the doorway. “You can’t go to the kitchen and swig the cooking sherry, can you? No, you must toss back fifty year old liquor that cost more than most people will earn in ten years.”
“Oh, relax. We have eternities to collect such measly things, and today, I need something strong.” She tossed back the drink, and poured another. The familiar burn warmed her and muted the demon as she tilted back her head and poured the contents of a crystal tumbler down her throat.
“Are you done now?” irritation danced in Ashur’s voice.
Finally feeling as if she could face him, Izzy turned to meet his hard stare. “Not quite,” she poured another drink as she spok
e. “I suppose you must know what has happened.” Flopping into the large couch, she patted the cushion next to her. “Come, sit.”
Her nonchalance drove him to the edge of his control. “Iyzebel, I am not a puppy or a child! Speak to me of what has taken place, now!”
"Ash, you can be such a brute." The words were said with a roll of her eyes as she brought the cup to her lips.
He moved fast, knocking the glass from her hand before the thick flavor of the whiskey could even touch her tongue. In an instant, he had her by the arms, yanking her upward until her feet dangled off the floor. His true nature roared outward in an instant transformation from human man to demon prince.
"I have had it with you! Do not toy with me, Iyzebel! This mission is far more important to me than your life. I chose you, and I can certainly replace you. If you would like me to take away the demon that I breathed into your fragile little body, I will. Then what will you be? Nothing more than a dried up human husk disintegrating in the wind."
Izzy blinked back the tears that stung her eyes, refusing to allow Ashur to see weakness. In a way, he was no better than a wild beast. The more fear his victim showed, screamed, or cried, the greater was his hunger to destroy them.
"You are hurting me, Ash." She spoke softly, but with confidence. Not willing to invoke his ire further, she looked down at her dangling feet, and gently added, "Put me down, and we shall talk."
He glared at her, green eyes blazing with madness as his grip lightened, the talons retracting back into human guise. After a moment, he released her, letting her drop to the ground at his feet with blood running down the back of her arms from the puncture wounds his claws had left in their wake.
"Speak."
Izzy dragged herself off the floor and made her way to the desk. Punching a button on the intercom with a shaky finger, she ordered, "Ogwald, bring me paper towels, gauze, and tape to bandage some small wounds."
The butler did not question her request, only agreed, leaving Izzy to wonder just how much the elder demon knew or didn't know about what went on behind closed doors.
"Giovanni is holding up well despite quickly approaching that time when the humans die naturally. His contacts are very secure, and the bosses have all agreed to join us in the culling. Of course, their demands for reward are preposterous. Maud even went as far as too ask for a ridiculous monetary sum. I do not think they understand that the entire world will be ours for the taking. Nor do they comprehend that most of them will not survive the destruction. They are fueled by greed and lust, pity only a few have the mind to grasp that they are going to die."
Seeming calm and composed once more, Ash nodded his head, causing his blond hair to shift in the light. "Their inability to see beyond the here and now is why we have chosen them. They have spent half a century hiding behind the mask of propriety and business. The human authorities have dwindled their numbers down to a portion of what they once were. Their lust for blood and power nearly equals are own. I will keep a few, not many, but some will make excellent additions to our ranks."
Izzy laughed despite the crimson rivers dripping off her elbows. "I'm sure Capone would love that. He drives me crazy."
Quirking an eyebrow, Ashur asked, "And what of you, Izzy? Shall you wish to keep that ancient gangster at your side? Or perhaps the young Rafael? You've worked hard for this. Surely there must be someone you would like to gift with a demon."
Izzy saw the trap that he was laying out. If she admitted to wanting to spare Giovanni, it might be seen as a weakness for the human. If she dared to argue that a demon with angel blood on their side would be an accomplishment that Ashur could be proud of, he might think she was not capable of destroying the painter.
"I have thought about it, Ashur. I do not wish to spend eternity as your lapdog. Sometime in the distant future, I wish to be more. I do believe Giovanni would make an excellent demon and a loyal general. As far as that simpering human artist, I will have no more use for him after the culling. In fact, I'd rather taste his soul."
The spark of defiance twinkled in her eye, even as she regretted her words. She'd made a good argument for Giovanni, but she'd also given Ashur a reason to want him. Worse than that, she'd insulted her demon creator and could see the fight stirring once more.
"My lapdog?" Ash quirked his eyebrow and smiled the sardonic grin that meant he was on the attack.
"It’s only an expression," she tried to sound flippant, but her voice betrayed her.
"Ah, I see." He stood, prowling toward her as if he were a large cat on the hunt, gaze locking on hers in a fierce challenge. "And you have yet to mention if your outing with the little human was successful. That is a bit interesting."
Backing up a single step, she felt the wall behind her. Nowhere to run. "There isn't much to report, and I thought the mafia’s progress seemed more important. Giovanni was pleased with the artist. Afterward, we had lunch at Incognito, and he asked me to come to his place tomorrow night to model for one of his paintings. He shows clear signs of being infatuated already, so I should be able to firmly seal him to me come then."
With slow and agonizing steps, Ashur crossed the room as she talked. Coming so close she could not meet his eyes without tilting her head backward, he stared at her with keen curiosity. Izzy struggled not to flinch as his hand came up, the back of his fingers stroking her cheek until his thumb rested by her ear and his hand curled around the back of her neck.
"You have become very disobedient and disrespectful, Izzy. I'm not sure what it’s going to take to remind you of your tedious position here."
His name was a murmur, smashed between their lips as his mouth came down on hers, rough and insistent. Izzy knew better than deny him, but that didn't mean she had to encourage him either. Arms hanging limply at her sides, she allowed his tongue to search the depths of her mouth as she fought to control her demon's yearning.
The hand not holding her head in place came up to cup her breast, and the fire in her belly churned. A wave of heat and desire spanned out from the epicenter of pleasure, visions of their night together fanning the flames. She couldn't deny that her body wanted him, craved the taste of his skin and the feel of his lips on every inch of her being. However, she already knew her physical form was a traitor. Need and desire warred against pride and survival inside her head, the former gaining ground with every second that Ash's fingers worked her nipple.
Instead of displeasing him, her silent resistance seemed to only increase his passion. The proof of his lust pressed hard against her hip, and Ash moaned into her open mouth. The vibration of his deep voice ripped through her, and Izzy gave in, surrendering to the throbbing desire. Tossing her head back, she brought her hands to his shoulders, nails digging into fabric and flesh.
Roaming from her mouth, he nibbled her jaw line up to the ear, and growled, "Say that you want me, Iyzebel. Tell me that you want me inside you."
With his breath in her ear and the feeling of electrical explosions through her body, Izzy's mouth formed the words. "Ash. Damn you to Hell. I want y—"
The door opened, freezing the words on her lips as Ogwald appeared with the requested medical supplies in his hand. For a moment, she and Ash simply stared at the old demon before breaking apart. Izzy slumped against the desk, heart hammering, demon raging as if it might rip through her flesh, and hands trembling from fear and lust. Ashur nodded to Ogwald and strode out the room, not bothering to glance back.
Remembering the wounds, Izzy suddenly became aware of the burning pain radiating from the backs of her arms. The slick wetness an irritation to her already overly sensitive nerve endings, she grabbed for the paper towels.
“Iyzebel, allow me.”
The concern in Ogwald’s eyes and voice smacked against her brain and left her gaping in shock. “Thank you, but I think I can get it.” She’d meant to put some bite behind the words, but it had come out in a softer tone.
“You won’t be able to properly clean and bandage them. Unlike those of us wh
o descended from the first Fallen, your wounds will take time to heal. If you get an infection, it might fester beneath the new skin. Spending eternity rotting from the inside out is not the most pleasant of ideas.”
“Don’t talk to me as if I am an infant! I know damn well I do not heal as quickly, I am not as strong, and I am not a pure demon.” The anger in her voice dissipated into dejection. “It seems that everyone in this place feels the need to remind me of what I’m not.”
Oswald eyed her carefully, but Izzy couldn’t bring herself to care. What Ash was doing to her was far worse than anything the ancient one could do.
“I did not mean to be condescending, Iyzebel. I know you are frightened by me, but—”
“I’m not scared of you.”
Oswald made an impatient gesture to shush her. “Do not deny your fear. It is a potent fragrance all around you whenever I am near. It does not make you weak, it makes you intelligent. Self-preservation is always a virtue, and you are correct to be wary of one as old as I am, though it is doubtful that I would ever harm you.”
Izzy winced as his careful hands came up to brush the back of her arm with a cotton swab dipped in alcohol. For once, she found herself speechless.
As he worked to cleanse and bandage her wounds, Ogwald continued, “Everything that makes Ashur what he is, is also what will bring about his downfall if he is not careful. You must be more diligent, Iyzebel. It is not your fault that his fury and his passion are united into an uncontrollable rage, but you must avoid goading him if you are to survive the culling.”
She wasn’t sure if it were her confusion or the fact that he had told her he wouldn’t hurt her, but Izzy suddenly felt brave enough to ask, “Why are you telling me these things? I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but what does it matter to you if I survive?”
“Not all of us are always what we seem, and not every demon is an open book of emotions as Ashur is.” Ogwald gently patted her shoulder. “All done. Keep those wrapped up and you should be healed by morning.” Without another word, he walked away from her, but when he reached the door, he turned to look back. The smile wasn’t really a smile, more a lifting of the muscles in his drooping jowls.
Voices of Hell Page 6
