Midnight Coven (Devil's Roses Book 7) (The Devil's Roses)

by Tara Brown

Seventeen games and fives days later and I move my king into check.

  His eyes lift, something is there behind them, a wry grin. He laughs suddenly, quite evil like too.

  He moves his queen and my heart sinks.

  “Holy hellfire, how the hell did you do—” My eyes lift. “You cheated. You son of a bitch, you cheated.”

  “Prove it.” He shrugs.

  He’s cut my magic somehow and I don't have any whispers in my mind. He musta known. I point. “I swear to the gods that was not a queen a second ago.”

  “You’re mistaken.”

  Son of a bitch.

  Shit!

  He gets up and skips around the room. It’s a weird sight but at the same time it makes me laugh. He bows gracefully when he circles back to me. “My lady, your bedroom awaits.”

  I sigh as Henry brings Lorri into the room. She cocks an eyebrow at Marcus’ shit-eating grin and the state of both of us. I’m in a velour leisure suit, lavender to be exact, and he’s in a reddish-orange one. She shakes her head. “The fashion of this decade is impossibly horrid.”

  Marcus plucks the safari-styled jacket. “This is Dior.” He says it like she’s way off base.

  “He never got you to have sex with him yet, did he?” She snorts.

  I bite my lip and look up at him. He instantly gets broody. “We were on our way now, to consummate our love.” He looks at me and forces a smile. “Of chess.”

  Lorri looks back at Henry who is still smiling. He’s been doing it for days, all the times I beat Marcus black and blue at chess. “Henry found them. Rydal is in New York, an odd place for him. And Whit is in the bayou. I imagine he must be kissing up to Momma Holt, begging her for forgiveness.”

  “That’ll get him far,” I scoff.

  “Do you want to get dressed and we’ll mosey over to New York and deal with Rydal first?”

  I nod but Marcus’ jaw drops. “There is no way in bloody hell she is leaving this fucking house until I am done snorting up the last of her blood like that movie I loved so much from the ‘80s.”

  I roll my eyes. “Scarface.”

  He points at me. “That's the one.” He gives me a look. “I won. Fair and square.”

  I tilt my head in disbelief but he’s indignant. “Fine, but I still won and you owe me—impressive sex too, not the kind where you lie there and I do all the work.”

  I laugh. I can’t even help myself. He’s having himself a fit.

  I nod at Lorri, “I owe him. So if he’s coming to New York and we’re killing Rydal, I’ll stay at Marcus’ hotel.”

  It’s Lorri’s turn to look surprised.

  “I suppose that will have to do, but I expect some serious room service.” Marcus folds his arms.

  I think even Henry rolls his eyes at that one.

  We travel to New York and check into our hotels. When we are done I’m still gagging from the travelling, Marcus is sniveling about not liking the room and wanting a better one, and Lorri is snipping at me. “Henry tracked him—and Brandon and Landry are there, watching the place. We need to go now. Right now.”

  Marcus reaches across her and wraps an arm around my chest. “I need an hour, Lorri. One hour.”

  Lorri looks ready to batter and deep-fry his ass so I lift my hand to his, sizzling his skin. “After Rydal. I want him dead before he finds another witch to eat.”

  He mutters something about welching on a bet. I roll my eyes and follow Lorri to the elevator. Marcus comes along, still grumbling. When we get to the doors she puts her hands out and winks us away while no one is looking.

  Every time Marcus pouts she snaps, “You said a day, it’s been five. God knows how many more witches are dead.”

  The building Rydal is in is creepy as cold sin. It’s tall and has gargoyles on it. I never did understand the need for a gargoyle. Why not have flowers or sculpture? Why have a big scary creature no one likes?

  We walk up to the front door. Brandon gives me a grin and looks at Lorri. “Landry is still up there, sitting down the hall on the ninth floor.”

  I look up, knowing I’ll be able to spot him from outside of the room. A thought crawls into my brain, tickling like it has the legs of a millipede. I put my hands facing down and push, using the wind to lift myself.

  Using the wind and the magic, I can fly.

  Lorri doesn't sound impressed on the ground below but I don't care. I can fly. I feel like Wendy Darling.

  I hover at a sliding door but the people inside don't reek of sin and pain, so I float past the next one and the next one, stopping at the fourth one. I know he’s in there the moment I am within ten feet of the door. He’s in there and he ain’t alone. I push myself to the patio and jump onto it. My leisure suit isn’t badass like my leather pants but it’s comfy.

  I push the door open, realizing too late that the noise of the city gives away instantly the fact that I’ve opened a door.

  Rydal comes around the corner with no shirt on. He scowls and looks around. “How’d you get in here?”

  I shrug, keeping my eyes on him but watching in the peripheral as well. “Flew.”

  “Ya can fly now as well, lass?”

  “You’d butter your butt and call yourself a biscuit, if you knew half of what I can do.” I nod.

  He looks lost but then gives up on the comment. “Why are ya here?”

  “I missed you. Ain’t that sweet of me?”

  He pulls back, looking around. “You alone?”

  I nod again.

  He tilts his head to the room next to us. “I’m not. Ya want to meet my friend?”

  “I do.”

  He holds his hand out, like he wants me to walk past him. But I know it's a witch in the other room. I can sense her like a duck on a June bug. I take a deep breath, readying for battle and walk into the room, pausing and giving him a smile. “Whit, I don't want to fight anymore. I just want this all over. If you turn your brother in, the Roses will be lenient.”

  He narrows his gaze. “They’re offering deals?”

  “Yeah. You can’t be eating witches and you have to find Rydal—he’s the one they want anyway.”

  I wonder how much of this Rydal’s believing. I need him to think he can trust me and come to the Roses without a fight.

  He takes a deep breath and nods. “I can consider it.” He puts his arms around me, pulling me in and smelling me. I’m almost confused on which one it is but he called me lass, and Whit hardly uses the word.

  I let him lead me into the room. The girl I smell is unconscious. Rydal holds his hands up, still pulling the Whit act. “I swear, last one.”

  I sigh, like I’m displeased, rather than disgusted. She’s alive at least. I hurry to the bed, touching her neck. She’s barely alive. I look up at the ceiling and call them. My head gets hot as the healing spirits enter me. They flow down into my hands, filling my entire body with heat. The girl gains color back and warmth, and then sits up on the bed, screaming blue murder.

  I wrap myself around her, shaking my head. “I found you, it’s okay. You’re safe, I swear.”

  She’s shaking and crying, pointing at Rydal. “Mo-mon-monster.”

  I rub her back, looking back at his mischievous face. “At least try to look guilty and mournful.”

  He shakes his head. “You weren’t kidding. I have never seen a witch pull healing from the air like that before. What else can you do?”

  I hear the Roses, probably the same time as he does. He jerks his head, but I pin him against the wall of closets as the door opens. He breaks through the air holding him. So I blast him with fire. He screams as it burns a hole into his abdomen. Lorri is in the room, winking me and the young witch out as Dorian and Marcus both attack Rydal. I flip him the middle finger as we fade. We land outside of a hospital with sirens everywhere. We’re behind an ambulance. The red flashing lights make me feel like I might have a seizure at any second.

  I look the girl in the eyes, compelling her blue stare with mine. “You don't remember anything abou
t the last week. Go on home and go to bed. Eat and rest and you’ll feel better. You got a bump on the head but you’re okay. Go inside of the hospital and tell them you need a cab home.”

  She nods weakly.

  Then she turns and stumbles out into the driveway of the hospital and inside of the emergency exit.

  Lorri looks at me, shaking her head. “You save them all the time, don't you?”

  “It’s hard to imagine how badly he’s treated her this last couple days. I bet she’s suffered real hard and forgetting might not be such a bad thing. I'd want to forget.” I shrug. I look around. “Where’s Gwen?”

  Lorri’s eyes darken even more. “With her daddy in Romania. She’s one of the people put in charge of making him a case study file for the Roses training. Whenever we come upon a hive of this type, we make a case study so that the next Roses being trained have knowledge of how things can work in different situations.

  She grabs my arm and winks us back to the hotel. Dorian and Marcus are in the alley where we stop. Marcus slips his hand into mine and squeezes lightly. “Good night all. Let me know when you would like to meet us for Whit’s massacre.” He pulls me into the hotel and down the hall to the elevator. When we get to the top floor he grins. “You ready or shall I order some food first?”

  I shake my head. “Let’s get this over with.”

  When we get inside he nods at the shower. “Go get in.”

  I salute him and walk toward the bathroom. “Yes sir.” When I get up next to the mirror I feel weird looking at myself. It isn’t like with Dorian or Whit where I feel forced, and yet, this is the first time I’m being forced. And unlike with Whit and Dorian, there is no magic forcing me, just a bet between friends. It started out disturbingly but it has truly become a friendship.

  Not to mention, I want to have sex with Marcus. I want to relax in a bed with him and slowly, languidly make love until I’m so tired I pass right out. I don't even care that he wants to drink my blood. I want to drink his.

  It’s an oddity, all of it.

  I pull off the ridiculous lavender suit and step into the hot shower. He steps in naked, right behind me and presses his body against mine. “I miss the modern ages of fancy hotels and livery. These outfits and rotten tiling jobs and vomit-based colors are enough to drive me insane.”

  It makes me smile. He’s pressed right up against me in the tiny shower, and he’s talking about clothes and décor. I turn to face him, letting my forehead rest against his chest. He wraps around me, kissing the top of my head as I mutter into him, “I miss cell phones and TV and books. Books in the ‘50s are lame. I miss how everyone talks instantly and how life is so efficient. And I hate that we have to live through the ‘60s, ‘70s and ‘80s again. Lord have mercy, if I have to watch the whole Reagan scandal on TV again I’ll skin someone.”

  He pulls me back. “You are the only person who gets this. Everyone else thinks I’m insane, but I try explaining that I lived in a time when everything was perfect for being a vampire. They all think it was the Renaissance. I say to hell with all that clothing. It was pomp then and it’s even worse now. And Reagan, Jesus save us all. I might just kill him and be done with it. The whole thing won’t ever happen.” We both laugh and then he stops himself. He pulls back. “Did you do something to me?”

  I cock an eyebrow. “Like what?”

  “Cast something on me to make me chipper?”

  I shake my head, noticing suddenly he is awfully chipper. “You feeling okay?”

  He nods slowly, very slowly. “I feel amazing. I’m happy—gleeful is the word I would probably use—“ He looks to the right suddenly and pauses. “Son of a bitch.” He looks at his groin, muttering to his limp penis. “Dorian.”

  “You named it—”

  “NO!” He leaps from the shower, wrapping in a towel and running from the room.

  I sigh, realizing the one time I really want some sex, I’m not going to get it. I wash up slowly, enjoying the hot water. When I get out he’s back but he’s sitting on the bed with the covers pulled up. I pause in the doorway. “You all right?”

  He shakes his head. “He’s taken all my sexual nature from me. Twenty-four hour tincture.” He sighs. “Henry gave it to him. I made the damned thing and now they’re using it against me. Said it was a joke but I’m not laughing.”

  I climb into the bed, realizing something. I climb into his lap, completely naked against his robe and grin. “I have the cure.”

  He looks down at my naked flesh and moans. “I know you do. My manhood is crying out for it right now, but there is nothing. I might as well be a eunuch.”

  “You might as well be a daytime drama star you mean. Stop being such a girl and let me fix this. Unless—you want to sit around and braid each other’s hair?”

  His eyes narrow. “You wish to use magic on me?”

  I drop my fangs. “It’s a combination cure.”

  He tilts his head to the side. “I’m getting excited now.” I lower my face to his neck, sinking my teeth in and drawing his hot blood into my mouth. The taste is unlike any I have ever had. It’s potent and I can feel something stirring inside of me as I take it in. I chant the spells to remove the tincture from the blood and draw him in. His cock grows underneath me as he moans and stirs. “You are a miracle worker.”

  I pull back, licking his blood from my lips.

  He lifts my chin. “It’s not all gone but I think I can manage from here.”

  “I’d hate to waste my night.”

  He rolls me over onto my back, licking my bare breast completely. He grazes my skin, leaving a trail of blood across my milky skin. He licks it up, closing his eyes and savoring the taste. When he opens them I can tell, he’s ready to go.

  He gets up between my thighs, dangling his erection between my legs and kissing my neck. His kisses become fire as he nibbles and sucks with each one. He gropes my breast, flicking his tongue across the peak of the pushed-up nipple. I’m aching for him. I don't even want foreplay. We can do that one with round two. I roll him over, climbing up him. He’s smiling and shaking his head. “Someone is in an awful hurry.” I reach down and sit his cock up, slowly lowering myself onto him. We both moan as I lower and rise again, trying to get it in with ease. He grips onto my hips. “You’re so wet already. What were you doing in that shower?”

  I put my hands over his lips and arch my back, sliding up and down his cock. He thrusts in small spurts, trying to get himself all the way in. He pulls me down onto him, sucking my bottom lip and piercing it with his fangs. He sucks and fucks simultaneously—my favorite kind.

  I ride his plunges, like he’s my stallion, pushing my ass down on each thrust. We’re moaning into a kiss the first time I come. He’s pinching both my nipples rhythmically and hitting my spot with his cock. He feels me come and rolls me on my back. Now it’s his turn. He lifts my feet in the air, pushing my heels onto his shoulders and arches my ass so when he drives into me, he is balls deep. I push on his shoulders for counterbalance as he pounds me with his cock.

  He turns his face sucking my big toe on the right-hand side, biting down on it and sucking my blood. I love feeding him. The feel of my blood going into him is somehow blissfully erotic.

  His body tenses and he comes with a force I dare say I have never felt before. My whole body lurches and clenches as he does his last few thrusts. He puts my feet down and pulls himself from me. He lays next to me and nods. “When this drug wears off, you’re in for it.”

  “Looking forward to it.” I nod.

  He pulls me into him, sweaty, bloody, and come filled. He holds me and takes in deep inhales of my hair.

  And that's how we fall asleep.

  Chapter Twelve

  I wake as I feel the sunset. His arm is draped across me and he’s heavy breathing in my hair. It’s the least and most sexy thing I have ever seen. If I close my eyes I can imagine him as my husband and me as his wife. I can imagine being in a house together and waking up, knowing the list of things
we have to do in a day. I can imagine them as simple and plain and boring. Making lemonade and drinking it on the porch, or me baking a cake and icing it, just the way he likes, after he mows the lawn. I can imagine all of the things I ain’t never gonna have.

  Each one is a small, dull ache in my chest.

  I don't know where that world went but it left me behind, in a shadow filled with things I neither like nor understand.

  But I know there is a place where people sit and do mindless things, I was trained for it. A life of garden parties, bridge, and planned dinners. Those people have the life I wanted to avoid because I was too young and naïve to understand how exciting simple could be. Those people—they laugh and make love and sip sweet tea, gossiping from a porch swing. That world exists somewhere else and it’s locked behind a gate that I can’t get past.

  Instead, I’m having casual sex in a hotel with a vampire I suspect is more. Then again, aren’t we all more? We are all more and then we are also less. I will never play in the sun, letting it warm my face and fill my heart. I will never have babies and love someone with all my heart.

  I will always be this. This cold existence is full of sex with guys like Marcus and killing things like Whit.

  He and I are gonna spend the day pretending this is more than just random sex, and then we’re gonna kill the first boy that ever pretended to love me. Then I’m going to Romania to kill that boy’s father, with his sister, no less. And then the sex I had with Marcus will be a notch on a belt I wear around my wrist, made of the innocence I once had.

  I can remember being back in Ms. Mitchell’s class, making fun of the life I would do anything to now have.

  God must really hate me.

  I sigh and lift his thick arm from my chest. He lowers it again and pulls me into him. “Buyer’s remorse already?” He mutters and kisses my cheek.

  It makes me smile but it can’t chase away the feelings I’m suffering through. I lean into the kiss and embrace and pretend for a little longer, before I turn and give him a narrow gaze. “What are you? I know you’re not a regular vampire.”

  “What do I get in return for my answer?”