Demon Kissed (Cursed Angel Collection)

by Michelle Madow

Why do I feel such a strong attraction to a demon? It must be the curse.

  But that would be easier to accept if my feelings didn’t feel so real.

  I’m glad once the soup is served, since it gives me something to do with my hands. I blow on it and take a small spoonful, pleased to find it’s the perfect temperature.

  “So, Adriana,” he says, and I swallow a mouthful of soup, snapping my attention back to him. “What’s your favorite thing about our continent?”

  “The stars,” I say instantly, since they’ve been my favorite part of every place I’ve ever seen, regardless of the place and time. Not only do the stars remind me of Heaven, but I’ve always loved how they’re a constant within an ever-changing world. But I can’t say that without arousing suspicion, so I add, “The stars are beautiful and mysterious—it’s so peaceful to be alone with my thoughts while admiring them at night.”

  “You’ve found a good place to see the stars in the city?” he questions.

  “They’re not as bright as they were back home in my sector,” I say, since I assume that would be true. “But I can still see them.”

  Someone slurps loudly from the other end of the table, and I glance over to see that the young Red girl, Yolanda, has made quite a dent in her soup.

  Ezekiel glares at her, and then returns his attention back to me. “I hope that doesn’t mean you prefer your home sector to the city?” he asks.

  “Of course not!” My heart races as I try to morph this into a compliment. “I love the city—especially the Watchtower. My suite is beautiful. I was stunned the moment I walked inside. It’s so kind of you to give us such wonderful accommodations.”

  “It’s my pleasure,” he says. “Although… I do hope your room isn’t your favorite thing about living in the Watchtower?”

  Heat rises to my cheeks, and I fiddle with the napkin in my lap. “If you’re referring to yourself, I assumed my feelings were a given.” I raise my eyes shyly, finding myself captured in his gaze once more.

  “Nothing is ever a given,” he says, his eyes swirling with a never-ending depth of emotion. “Especially feelings—I’ve always found them to be the most fickle things. They appear without warning and are capable of changing in an instant.”

  My breath catches at his words—or was it a warning? Why does it seem like there are layers of meaning behind everything he says? I want to talk with him forever and excavate the depths of every crevice in his mind.

  But any response I might have made is cut off by another loud slurp of soup.

  Ezekiel rips his gaze from mine, shooting another death glare at Yolanda. But she’s oblivious—lost in the joy of finishing her food. I notice again how frail she is, and it clicks that she’s so thin because she’s malnourished. It shows in the way she’s eating—like if she doesn’t eat quickly enough, the food will be stolen from her hands.

  “The same way you appeared without warning the first night we met?” I say to Ezekiel, desperate to pull his attention away from Yolanda. Once this meal is over, I’ll have a discussion with her about table manners—for now all I can do is distract Ezekiel from noticing her.

  But she slurps again, and it’s like he doesn’t hear me.

  I glance toward the other end of the table in time to see Yolanda tilting her bowl, scooping out more soup and slurping again. Some of the liquid escapes her mouth, and she uses her other hand to wipe it away, licking it from her fingers.

  “Disgusting.” Ezekiel’s eyes blacken, and he doesn’t look at his hand as he wraps it around his steak knife—it’s as if he’s acting on autopilot. “I will not dine with animals for a year. Or anyone who eats like one.”

  He throws the knife, and it flies in an arc across the table, piercing straight through Yolanda’s heart.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Yolanda slumps over the table, her face falling into her bowl of soup. Her body twitches a few times and goes still.

  Panic races through my mind. She’s dead. Ezekiel killed her. I shouldn’t be shocked—I knew to expect this—but I didn’t expect it so soon.

  I suppose I’d hoped to complete my mission before any of the girls died.

  I should have known after the ball that it wouldn’t be the case. Now Yolanda is dead. All because she was excited to eat and was enjoying her food.

  She didn’t deserve to die like that. No one deserves to die like that.

  But somehow, throughout it all, I keep the horror from my face. I’m here to make sure girls like Yolanda don’t have to suffer the same fate in the future. I have a part to play—and no matter how much I hate playing it, I need to do it right if I’m to succeed in my mission.

  So I turn away from her body and lift my glass in a toast. “To a more peaceful meal,” I say, smiling at Ezekiel in what I hope looks like gratitude.

  I catch Gloria’s eyes for a second, and she nods in approval.

  “Yes,” he says, although his voice is robotic and dull. “To a more peaceful meal.”

  He clinks his glass with mine and tosses back his champagne.

  The servants clear away Yolanda’s body, and the meal progresses without any more tragedies. But her empty seat haunts me—a reminder of the girl who couldn’t even enjoy twenty-four hours as a concubine before being killed by Ezekiel.

  How had Ezekiel gone from being charming to murderous in what felt like a split second? I hate myself for being drawn into his spell at the beginning of the meal. Why does he have such sway over me?

  The obvious answer is the curse, but I don’t fully believe that’s it. It feels like something more.

  Then again, Ezekiel himself told me that feelings are fickle things.

  I’m starting to realize that he might be right.

  He makes an effort to speak with each of the girls throughout the meal, asking them about themselves. I listen, hoping to learn more about these girls who I’ll be seeing a lot of in the time to come.

  I already knew Elizabeth’s story, but she gives a much simpler, happier version when Ezekiel asks about her. The other Silver, Josefina, is a manager at a local dress store. I remember the name as one of the stores I visited with Sofia when we were shopping for the ball. She wants us to wear clothes from her store, to give it more publicity, and Ezekiel tells us that we should all go shopping there together.

  “You’ll find a significant amount of coins in the safes in your closets,” he tells us. “Your personal maid will refresh the amount daily.”

  This results in excited chatter breaking out among the girls. I, too, feel an unfamiliar desire to check out my safe to see how much daily allowance I’m given. I know this desire is the curse taking effect. Are the other women also able to recognize when the curse takes hold of their thoughts? Or are they unaware, having been born after the curse was placed upon the continent?

  “And you?” Ezekiel asks Maria once the chatter dies down. “What was your job in the city before coming to live in the Watchtower?”

  “I’m a dancer.” She pouts her lips in a way I think is supposed to look seductive, and I have to take a bite of my food to stop myself from laughing.

  He smirks, his interest apparently piqued. “What kind of dancer?” he asks.

  “That’s something I’ll have to show you in private.” She twirls a strand of hair around her finger, her hand so close to her chest that it’s clear where she’s trying to draw his eyes. Naturally, it works.

  My heart pangs with jealously as I watch Ezekiel run his gaze over her breasts.

  “I look forward to it,” he says, a clear hunger in his eyes.

  The Reds, of course, hold service positions. One of them is a waitress, and the other a housekeeper. Both refuse to look at Yolanda’s empty chair as they speak with Ezekiel.

  When dessert is served, I take only a sliver of cake, remembering Gloria’s warning about keeping Adriana’s body the same as it was on the night of the ball. Elizabeth, however, isn’t as cautious—she cuts the largest slice out of all the girls. But she’s a Silver,
and she appears well-fed, so I assume she knows what she’s doing. She must be blessed with a fast metabolism.

  “Adriana,” Ezekiel says as the dessert plates are being cleared. “What are your plans on Saturday night?”

  “None that I know of,” I say automatically, since given everything going on, I’ve hardly taken time to fill up my social calendar. “Why? Are you throwing another party?”

  “No.” He chuckles. Then his eyes go serious, and he says, “I’m spending time with you. I’ll be at your suite at eight-thirty to pick you up. Don’t be late.”

  I nod, stunned into silence.

  Because unless I’m misinterpreting the situation, Ezekiel just asked me out on a date.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Apparently, being asked on the first Saturday-night date is a big deal—the same amount of importance is put on it as the first dance at the ball. It should mean that I’m Ezekiel’s favorite.

  But the morning after the feast, the concubines have breakfast in the penthouse dining room. Maria struts in last, in a short, silky dress that clings to her body. She’s walking slowly—deliberately—as if her muscles are sore.

  “Sorry I’m late.” She smirks and flips her hair over her shoulders, not sounding sorry in the slightest. “Ezekiel simply wouldn’t allow me to leave my bed this morning.”

  “You saw him?” the Red girl who previously worked as a maid—Alicia—asks.

  “He came to my room after dinner.” She shrugs, as if it’s no big deal, but her eyes gleam as she speaks. “So yes, I saw him. Every single bit of him. And let me tell you—he’s more delicious than I ever imagined.”

  The other girls ask a million questions at once.

  I just stare at Maria, a fire burning in my chest. What does Ezekiel see in her?

  She couldn’t be more different from me if she tried.

  “One at a time,” she says as she sits down, raising her arms into the air in an exaggerated yawn. “I’m so tired. I don’t think I got a wink of sleep last night.”

  She answers each question. After listening to the play-by-play of her… bedtime adventures with Ezekiel, I’m glad he went to her suite and not mine. Because the acts she describes to us—they aren’t things people do with someone they care about. They’re carnal. Dark. Violent. And as she speaks, I notice the bruises on her body—on her wrists, her collarbones, her neck.

  Those bruises weren’t there at dinner last night.

  If Ezekiel has such desires that need to be satisfied, and if Maria is as happy as she sounds, then I’m glad she’s there to fulfill them.

  But will he expect such things from me? Last night, he specifically said he would be “picking me up” for our date. That implies we’re going out somewhere… or at least, I assumed it did. And he’s always been a gentleman toward me in the past. He could have had his way with me in that alley, but he didn’t. No—he saved me. He was gentle. Kind.

  The person Maria’s describing sounds like an entirely different man.

  But I know it’s not. Ezekiel and that man are one and the same. I can’t let myself forget that.

  How much longer will it be until he expects from me what he got last night from Maria?

  Hopefully I’ll be able to kill him before it comes to that.

  “Why so quiet?” Maria asks me with a smirk. “You don’t have anything to add to the conversation? Any of your own experiences to share, perhaps?”

  My cheeks turn red, and I glance away from her, hoping one of the other girls will change the subject. Because of course I don’t have my own experiences to add. I’m a messenger angel, bound to love and worship God for my entire existence. Some angels have had relations with humans—and many have even fallen from Heaven for humans they claimed to love—but I’ve never strayed from my God-given duties.

  And while I’ve always known I might need to be intimate with Ezekiel to complete my mission—although I pray it doesn’t come to that—it didn’t feel real until this moment.

  “You’re not a virgin, are you?” Maria laughs, as if it’s the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard. Her smile broadens when I say nothing. “This is great,” she says, laughing again. “How do you plan on pleasing Ezekiel as a virgin?”

  “Don’t be mean,” Elizabeth snaps, stepping to my defense.

  “I’m not being mean,” Maria says. “I’m just asking a question.”

  “No, it’s okay.” I sit straighter, not about to let Maria get her amusement from me. “There are many ways to please a man,” I say calmly, holding my gaze with hers. “In fact, many kings of old were only interested in virgins. Virgins were considered pure and untainted—the perfect prize for the worthiest man in the kingdom. I think Ezekiel will be pleased when he learns I’ve saved my body for him, and him alone. Don’t you agree?”

  Maria harrumphs and focuses on finishing her food.

  And I pray that if Ezekiel ever does come to my bedroom in the way he came to hers, I’ll have already acquired the sword I need to kill him.

  Chapter Forty

  On Saturday night, there’s a knock on my door at eight-thirty on the dot—just as Ezekiel promised. My stomach’s been twisting all day in anticipation. After hearing about what he did to Maria, I haven’t stopped worrying if he’ll try to do those same things to me.

  But I also know that this is a big chance to break through to him and gain his trust.

  So I take a deep breath, straighten my dress, and glance one more time at my reflection. I’m wearing a short white dress with swirling rhinestone patterns that I picked out during a group shopping trip to Josefina’s store yesterday. I hope the dress makes me appear innocent—bride-like.

  Ezekiel won’t like it if he’s kept waiting, so I push down my anxiety, hurry to the doors, and open them.

  He’s wearing jeans, a black t-shirt, and the same leather jacket he was in the first two times I met him. Seeing him like this reminds me of the man who walked me home and saved my life—not the man who killed two women in front of me.

  He stares at me, transfixed—the same way he did the first time we met. As if he can’t believe I’m here.

  “Adriana,” he says, breaking the silence. “You look beautiful.”

  “Thank you.” I keep my hand on the doorknob, not moving from where I stand.

  “You seem nervous,” he observes.

  “Do I?” I force myself to smile. “I suppose—well, to be honest, I’ve been looking forward to tonight since you asked. I’m excited.”

  “And nervous.” He tilts his head, as if challenging me to say otherwise.

  “Can’t excitement and nervousness go hand in hand?”

  “Yes,” he says. “But I assure you—there’s nothing to be nervous about. Because you’re going to love what I’m planning to show you.”

  He holds out his hand and leads me out of my suite. We go to a center elevator, and I’m surprised to see that this one has another floor—a fiftieth floor. He scans his thumbprint and presses the button for floor fifty.

  “I didn’t know there was a floor above ours,” I say as the doors close.

  “There’s a reason it’s called the Watchtower,” he says, and the elevator begins its ascent.

  The doors open quickly, revealing a lone staircase in front of us. He leads the way up. When we reach the top, we step out into a huge, glass-domed room. It’s circular and empty, except for a few bulky, sheet-covered objects scattered throughout.

  “Wow,” I say, looking every which way to take in my surroundings. From here, I can see out to the entire city—at least until the last lit-up houses. Overhead, the stars shine in the night. The moon is a perfect, glowing crescent—as if it’s smiling down at us.

  I’ve looked down at the world from Heaven before, but this is different.

  This feels like we’re standing on top of the world.

  “You like it?” he asks from beside me.

  “Like it?” I say, not having to fake my enthusiasm. “I love it.”

&nb
sp; “I’m glad,” he says. “And that’s not all. Come.”

  His eyes shine with excitement, and he holds his hand out to me. I take it, warmth spreading through my body at his touch. He leads me to one of the covered objects, pulling away the sheet and revealing what’s beneath.

  “A telescope.” I gasp, reaching for it. “Has this always been up here?”

  “No,” he says, and from the way his eyes dance as he watches me, I can tell he’s pleased by my reaction. “I got it for you. I got all of them for you.” He motions around the room, and I realize that each covered object is another telescope. There must be ten of them in all. “So you can see the stars in the city.”

  “Wow,” I say, truly amazed by the gesture. “Thank you. No one’s ever done something like this for me in all the years of my existence.”

  It slips out of my mouth because it’s true. My entire existence has been about devoting myself to God. No one has ever asked me much about myself, let alone given me something because they thought I would enjoy it. No one has ever thought my interests were important.

  “I find that hard to believe from a Gold,” he says, and I freeze, realizing my slip-up.

  I’d spoken as myself—as Rebekah. Not as Adriana.

  I frantically search for something to say to cover my mistake, while keeping my face serene.

  “I’m given coins, yes,” I say quickly. “To buy what I want for myself. And if I told my family I wanted something, they would usually get it for me, no questions asked. But no one has ever cared enough to listen between the lines of a conversation and gift me something I didn’t specifically ask for—something they intuitively understood I would love. So… thank you, Ezekiel. This means so much more than I can ever say.”

  “I thought we were over such formalities,” he says, and my heart pounds at the realization that he’s standing so close to me that there’s barely any space between us. He runs his fingers under my chin, and just like that, I’m trapped under his gaze. “I want you to call me Zeke. Not Ezekiel.”