A Touch of Brimstone (Magic of the Damned Book 1)

by McKenzie Hunter

  His finger moved from my cheek and was resting against my hand. Warmth slithered around me, his intoxicating smell enveloped me, and I let myself be submerged in the depth of his eyes. Searching for answers that he wouldn’t willingly offer. He was a mass of contradictions. Raw power and violence but capable of gentleness. A fuse just waiting to be ignited but stalwart tolerance with Helena, and even with me.

  “I wouldn’t have stopped you,” he admitted.

  “Really?”

  “It wouldn’t have stopped the plans I have, but if you needed to be with him, I wouldn’t have stopped you.”

  “I don’t think I will ever need to be with him.”

  He let the surprise show on his face.

  “It’s time for him to be out of my life. Today was a lot for me, and it would have been nice to have a little normal. But something was off with him.”

  Dominic moved back to the chair, canted his head, and waited for me to continue.

  “I’m not sure what it was.” I explained about him being compelled by the vampire and my suspicion that it had been broken by the vampire’s death, and about Jackson’s return to the store.

  “You are correct. Just as a spell is broken when the caster dies, the same happens with a compulsion from a vampire.”

  “He just seemed odd, and I don’t know why he’d return to the store.”

  “Someone made him do it. The Dark Caster was there.”

  “The wall,” I concluded. “It was the Dark Caster who erected it, which was why you couldn’t break it.”

  He confirmed. “Your boyfriend—”

  “Ex.”

  “Your ex, could he be the Dark Caster?”

  “If he had magic, there’s no way he would have kept it a secret. He would have been found immediately. His ego couldn’t handle godlike powers.”

  Dominic gave me a faint smile. His swift movements were as off-putting as Helena’s. A frowned beveled the corners of his lips as he looked out at the garden.

  “Tell me about your boy—ex-boyfriend, Jackson.”

  Since I’d never given him Jackson’s name, I knew he had all the information he needed. The general information.

  “Why?”

  He turned to look at me, his eyes lazily traveling the length of my body, lingering over my lips before they met my eyes. “Because I asked.”

  “Technically you didn’t ask, you sort of ordered me.”

  “Consider it a question.”

  “Then phrase it as one. Give me the option to decline.”

  He chuckled and returned to admiring the view. “It is rare that I ask and even rarer for me to be declined.”

  “I’m overjoyed to be giving you such a rare experience.”

  Abandoning whatever held his attention outside, he flashed a roguish smile, making me wished I’d phrased things differently. “Rare experience,” he said. “Intriguing.” He approached me in a slow, easy stride. I focused on the light splatters of other people’s blood on his shirt and how comfortable and oblivious he was with it.

  “Will you tell me about your ex?”

  I shrugged. “I’m not sure what you’re looking for. I can assure you that there’s nothing magical about him. And if there were, he’d be leading the Awakeners and you wouldn’t be able to keep him from letting people know he’s a special little being.”

  The love goggles were nowhere to be found. I’d loved Jackson’s confidence, but with clear vision, I could admit it had descended into self-aggrandizement. “Why are you curious about him?”

  “Knowing him, I get to know you better.”

  That caught me by surprise.

  “You want to know me better. Why?” I sputtered. I had no chill in me.

  “Helena was right. I find you intriguing. And the reason the Dark Caster chose you even more perplexing.”

  Join the club.

  “What drew you to a man whom you clearly don’t seem to like? The ending of your relationship is new, your dislike of him, but there are hints of residual feelings. He’s pursuing you, but you lack interest and don’t show any signs of rekindling the relationship. That speaks to a betrayal, and he’s seeking forgiveness.”

  “He’s not seeking forgiveness. It’s acquiescence that he wants.”

  His eyes narrowed on me. “You’re too nice to be aggressively rude enough to force him away,” he surmised.

  “I’m plenty rude, he just has a high tolerance for it.”

  Dominic continued to scrutinize me. He ruminated over my response to the point I felt uncomfortable under his intense gaze.

  “Did Rei try to persuade you to go with her?”

  Keeping the conversation between us seemed moot now that she was dead. I eyed Dominic’s bloodstained shirt again.

  “Yes. The irony of her wanting to protect me from you—a lowly human she wanted to subjugate once the supernaturals were revealed.”

  “You seem to want humans to know of our existence.”

  He waited patiently as I considered his statement, still acutely aware of his light touch on my hand. His magic seemed subdued enough to ignore.

  “No, I don’t,” I finally said. “I just don’t want us to be victims of your whims. Your anonymity makes us easy targets.”

  “Do you think knowing would give you an advantage?”

  It was a rhetorical question, but I still felt the need to answer it.

  “Not an advantage, but it would arm us adequately.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know, if you wake up a little foggy headed, it might be a vampire, so you won’t think it’s you. Laws can be put in place to better regulate the supernaturals’ use of magic.”

  “You think human laws will be obeyed by people far more powerful than them? A vampire could compel your politicians. Spells could manipulate outcomes. Shifter and vampire strength could dominate any human. But humans will attempt to regulate how we deal with things, muddling our system.”

  Frustrated by his interrogation pointing out the holes in my solution, I moved back from him, shoving my hand through my hair.

  “Your system doesn’t work either,” I snapped. “Kane tried to compel me to injure myself and he’s part of the Conventicle. He blatantly ignored—”

  “Kane was handled,” he reminded me.

  “I know, but he still went against the wishes of the Conventicle. And what about the people who killed Rei and company?”

  As he pointed out the holes in my suggestion, he needed to see the flaws in theirs, as well.

  “That, I’m not sure. They wanted you dead.”

  “You, too.”

  “Many people want me dead. I’m not sure if my death was a bonus or an objective. You were definitely a target. I have no idea what their part is in this. It needs to be investigated.”

  Did he just flex about people wanting him dead? Hey, Prince, that’s not a good thing!

  “Why didn’t you go with Rei?” Satisfaction lifted one side of his lips. “Despite your apprehension, you’ve chosen a side.”

  I shook my head. “No,” I admitted. “I’m an unwilling participant. Our goals align. You want the prisoners back and to find the Dark Caster. I want the markings removed and out of this world. That’s the crux of the matter.”

  “Ah, so you haven’t determined I’m the good guy.”

  My mouth dropped open and I snapped it shut. Perhaps it was the fatigue and the assassination attempt, or the fact that I was firmly in “I don’t give a fuck territory,” but I said, “I definitely don’t think you’re the good guys. I’m not sure you’re even the somewhat okay guys. It’s debatable whether you’re even the barely humane guys. You take lives effortlessly.”

  His face had been pitiless, totally lacking any mercy or remorse.

  “They were trying to kill me and you. I defended us. What should I have done—ask them not to do it?” His mocking annoyed me. “Or do you have a death wish, Luna?” he tacked on, derision heavy in his voice.

  He was right. But it st
ill felt wrong. Like there should have been an alternative.

  “People are killed all the time in your world. Does it bother you?”

  I nodded. “But the difference is, I’m not there or hanging out with the murderers.”

  He nodded slowly as he regarded me. I wondered if he could mute the searing intensity of his gaze.

  “The prisoners aren’t responsible for their escape,” he said, seeming to be in need of a subject change. “Our speculations were wrong about them being involved. If they were, you wouldn’t be with me. If they knew you were the only person keeping them out of the Perils, they would have found a way to you. They’re lying low, because they need to figure out things just like I do,” he speculated.

  This wasn’t the time to point out there wasn’t really a “we” in this when it came to finding out the truth about the prisoners’ involvement. Whereas he seemed to desperately need the why of the situation, I was firmly in camp how. How do I untangle myself from this situation?

  His finger glided over the light shadow of a beard as he was drawn into further speculation. My interest remained piqued by Rei’s apparent hope that he encountered Roman. More specifically, Roman’s claws.

  “What effect do Roman’s claws have on you?”

  He diverted his eyes from me, moving his attention to the wall behind me as he deliberated.

  “His claws are poisonous,” he eventually said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Even to us. Weakens us and mutes our magic.”

  “For how long?”

  “Until it’s out of our system. The last time, it was about thirty-six hours. I was unable to return home, use my magic, or fight at my normal level,” he admitted. There was a reluctance to his confession and a hitch in his voice. Was he embarrassed that he’d been clawed, or that he had vulnerabilities? It humanized him and dampened his intensity. I closed the distance between us.

  My voice was low and entreating as I continued the questioning, learning more about his world. If I was forced to live in it, I wanted to know everything about it. Whatever my expression revealed to him, it caused him to relax.

  “Dark Casters’ magic can affect us, even with my immunity to witches’ magic.” He gave me a knowing smirk. “But that’s information you already know.”

  Well, I upheld my promise. I hadn’t revealed that I knew the information. I wondered if Nailah had confessed. Based on the self-satisfied look on his face, he was speculating and I had confirmed it.

  “Go on,” I urged.

  “Their spells I can break, but their magic can be used against me.”

  “Some witch magic as well.”

  He nodded. “Atmospheric and some elemental. If it rains, it rains on me as well. Snow, I get chilled. And if there’s a cyclone, I can be swept into it like anyone else.”

  His eyes narrowed on me, searching my face. “What are you thinking, Luna?” He might not have added the “Little” to it verbally, but the taunting gleam in his eyes had.

  I had a speech about how they arrived at the average and pointing out that for five-six to be the average, there had to be people significantly shorter and that there were scores of people shorter than I was. Emoni, at close to five-eleven, would just look at me with a combination of amusement and a trace of mockery, urging me on. “That’s right,” “You tell them,” “I’m with her and the Lollipop Guild.” On the opposite end of the height spectrum, Emoni didn’t seem bothered when people commented on her height.

  “I thought you said I wore my thoughts on my face. You tell me.”

  “I’d like to hear it from you.”

  “These reveals make you seem—approachable. Real,” I admitted.

  “Real?”

  “Normal. Like other people.” These were all wrong descriptions. So. Very. Wrong. But telling him that he seemed less of a larger-than-life figure, insurmountable presence, or ethereal force, although true, seemed hyperbolic.

  “It shows the many dimensions you have. Like everyone else.”

  Self-assurance bloomed over his features, in the fire that banked in his eyes, his supple lips, and carved features. “But I’m not like everyone else.”

  That was apparent.

  “Can bullets and blades hurt you?”

  “They hurt,” he offered in a level voice.

  They hurt. Well, Prince, they hurt everyone, but will you die? “That’s nothing notable. I think they hurt everyone.”

  “I’m very difficult to kill.” He leaned toward me, a hint of a warning.

  It wasn’t even a fully formed thought—just a fleeting moment of me knowing I had other ways to protect myself against him and Helena. One freaking passing thought. A half thought. Not even a complete thought.

  “Tomorrow, we’ll get you magic and you’ll do the spells and this should be over for you.”

  “But not for you?”

  He shook his head. “There are other players involved and I need to find out who they are. What their endgame is. Those people who came after us—after you—weren’t the Conventicle guards and they aren’t allies of the Awakeners. If I figure out their objective, then I’ll know how to deal with them.”

  “Perhaps they’re just the ruthless arm of the Awakeners,” I tossed out but quickly added, “but that wouldn’t explain them killing Rei and the others. If they were allies, they wouldn’t have tried to kill me. If anything, they’re more aligned with the Conventicle.”

  He nodded, then frowned. “Unless there’s about to be an attempt at a coup. Perhaps they don’t like the agreement the Conventicle has with me. That may be why killing me was a bonus.” Looking down at the blood splatters on his shirt, he added, “I should shower and change.”

  Had he only just noticed that?

  I had to drag my eyes away from the exposed warm, olive-colored skin, the sculpted stomach muscles, and the light trail of hair leading into his pants when he tugged his shirt from his pants, examining the crimson stains on the bottom of the shirt.

  “Do you need anything, Luna?” he asked, dropping his shirt.

  “What?” I wasn’t leering. I know I wasn’t. It was just a casual perusal. Of the Prince of the Underworld, Luna, I scolded. The Underworld.

  That should have been sobering. I blamed my gawking on everything that had happened today. My body still hummed from the adrenaline rush. The highs and lows. The attempts on my life. That was all. I’d be ogling any moderately attractive man. That was my story and I was sticking to it.

  “Food, drink, a platter of chocolate?”

  I nodded. I hadn’t eaten since lunch. “Food—definitely. Vodka in a Big Gulp cup, and I’d take a small tower of the chocolate you had earlier.” I planned to take that home with me. It was expensive, decadent, and the type of chocolate I couldn’t afford to treat myself to.

  “Very well. I’ll see what I can do about the Big Gulp of vodka. We usually only have wine.”

  I shrugged; my taste in alcohol wasn’t very discerning. I wanted something to take the edge off and to make sure it didn’t involve being naked with the prince.

  “Very well.”

  He left, but there was a smugness to him. His teeth gripped his lips.

  “Meet me in the kitchen in an hour.”

  18

  After a half-hour shower, I headed down and found Dominic seated, with an empty plate off to the side, a different notebook than our original in front of him, and sipping on wine. He gave me a once-over: the damp hair pulled into an untidy bun, loose-fitting Dorian Gray t-shirt, threadbare leggings, and fluffy ankle socks. I wasn’t going for sexy but wouldn’t have known that from the look Dominic gave me. He seemed most intrigued by my t-shirt, giving it a long, languid look.

  In a black, soft-looking cotton t-shirt and age-worn jeans, he was the most casual I’d seen him, but he still possessed the refinement of someone wearing a bespoke suit. The edges of his exposed tattoos shimmered under the halo of the warm yellow lights.

  “No Big Gulp,” he said, “but we had enough to make you a
French martini.”

  I took a small sip. It was really good.

  It wasn’t until the smell of the steak, caramelized potatoes, and tomatoes skewered with mozzarella hit me that my stomach start growling uncontrollably. Since he hadn’t waited for me, I tore into the food.

  I drank the water provided instead of the martini. Looking up from my plate, feeling the heat of embarrassment inch its way up my neck and cheeks, I said, “I was hungrier than I thought.” I wiped my mouth with the napkin and took a sip of martini. “Thank you.”

  He smirked and pushed the wrapped chocolate toward me. It wasn’t a tower, but a small pyramid.

  Unwrapping one, I popped it in my mouth, convinced that the wrapping had actual gold in it so I wouldn’t crumple it.

  He slid the notebook over to me and I looked at it. The spells were sectioned into easily readable chunks. Dominic was committed to us striking true.

  “I have divided them into the ones most likely to succeed based on the response of your markings and in the dungeon. Most are educated guesses, but I believe what was hindering the success of the spells was my magic.”

  Perusing the spells, it was really difficult not to be overtaken by the hope forming. Once the spells were reversed, I could work on damage control because I wasn’t convinced there wouldn’t be some fallout from what happened at Books and Brew.

  “Is it just you and your family here?” I asked after I moved the notebook aside.

  Dominic seemed comfortable with silence. I saw it as a missed opportunity to learn more about this world, and him.

  “Anand, the guards, and staff. The guards are resident here, as are some of the staff. We have humans—indentured.”

  “Enslaved,” I corrected.

  He shook his head. “Contractually obligated. Presented with the option to work here for money, or a favor. I’m sure the number of people willing to give up a short period of freedom for money, opportunities in your world, a new and better life, doesn’t surprise you.”

  Dominic’s jaw was set, awaiting new questions, but I had none. Money for ten years in the Underworld. Five years to return to our world with the job of your dreams, home, and spouse.