The Death Skull: Relic Defender, Book 2

by Cassiel Knight

  Lillian DeMartinez paced in front of the large fireplace, the silk of her evening gown making a soft, whispering sound against the thick-pile carpet. On her fingers, jewels winked red, blue and green as she wrung her hands. The only outward signs of her annoyance.

  “Where the hell is he?” Her fine, cultured tone held the sharp edge of a knife.

  When the front doorbell rang, Catherine prayed it was the man her mother was waiting for. An unhurried, confident gait followed the quick steps of Angella Morales, their housekeeper.

  Lillian whirled around, her face taut with anticipation. The same anticipation that sang a siren song through Catherine’s veins. Her mother had spoken at length of the man she’d added recently to her conquests. And of his bodyguard—the man she really wanted but had done something no other man had ever done.

  Turned her mother down.

  For that, Lillian desired and hated him in equal amounts. Many evenings lately, Catherine had heard her mother muttering in her chambers about this man and what it would take to make him hers. But even her mother would not be stupid enough to have an affair while she was seeing the boss, given how dangerous she’d said he was.

  Catherine wanted to meet the man who hadn’t succumbed to her mother’s potent sexuality. The same sexuality she herself possessed, but didn’t want. After watching her mother manipulate first her father, then the endless parade of men walking through the front door, Catherine would much rather find her own way without using sex.

  A hesitant knock at the door pulled Catherine’s gaze to the entrance of the room.

  “Come in,” Lillian called out.

  Hastening over to the settee, her mother arranged herself on its cushioning surface. Well, more like draped herself. She settled her skirt about her trim form to cascade over the couch in a satin waterfall. After tossing her long red curls, she schooled her expression into one of pouty unconcern and stared at the door.

  Catherine smiled—a quick pull at her lips. Lillian was quite the actress. She’d seen her mother do this act before. Had seen the effect on the men who’d witnessed her little show. Catherine sat back in the plush Victorian chair at the ornate desk and waited to see the two men who had occupied so much of her mother’s time lately. So much that Lillian had missed several tapings of the soap opera she starred in, which had prompted the director to call. Her mother basked in her role as a seductress who worked her way through the men on the show. Catherine had heard that art mirrored real life. In her mother’s case, it seemed true.

  The door opened, and Angella walked in. Catherine eyed her flushed expression, Hmm. Flushed cheeks, chocolate-brown eyes with the sheen of brightness. Angella’s lips quivered as she seemed to struggle with keeping a smile from breaking her serene expression. Looked like the men had another conquest.

  “A Mr. Davar and Mr. Slay are here to see you, ma’am.”

  “Yes, yes. For God’s sake, Angella, step aside and let them in.” Impatience edged the posh accent. “Bring some tea for Catherine and champagne for the rest of us. We have much to celebrate.”

  Catherine lifted a brow. Celebrate? When her mother had asked her to participate in what was usually a private meeting, she’d expected it to be another one of those times where she watched her mother jerk some poor guy’s strings until he was panting to do whatever she wanted. There had been no mention of a celebration.

  She eyed her mother. Yes, there was something there. Some extra gleam in her mother’s eyes Catherine had missed before.

  Angella bobbed her head and stepped back. Through the door came the handsomest man Catherine had ever seen. Perfection. From the top of his blond head to his wide shoulders framing a deep chest atop a trim waist. Blue eyes, brighter than the bluest sky, glinted with the smile that crossed his full lips. Teeth, almost too white to be real, flashed. He made his way directly to her mother’s side, bent and kissed her hand. He murmured something and her mother giggled, simpering like a young girl.

  When the second man stepped through the doorway, Catherine completely forgot all about her mother and the first man. Mr. Slay—what a last name to have—took her breath away. He was not classically handsome like Mr. Davar. Dressed in black from head to toe, the severity of his clothing should have made him seem austere and boring. He was not.

  The long-sleeved, button-down shirt tucked into tight black jeans coated his frame like a second skin, leaving little to the imagination. Shoulder-length dark hair flowed over his shoulders, brushing his cheek as he moved his head. She wanted to run her fingers through the silken mass to see if it was as soft as it seemed.

  His appearance reminded her of the pictures of dark angels. Sinister.

  Dangerous.

  Sex personified.

  All he needed was a pair of coal-black wings to spring from his back and he’d be perfect. Now that Catherine saw him, she could see why her mother wanted to add this man to her conquests. Sin leaked from every pore.

  As if he felt her eyes upon him, his obsidian gaze swung to her. She sucked in a deep breath. Even from the distance, she felt the weight of his stare as if he’d penetrated deep into her mind searching out her secrets.

  The corner of his lips curled upward. If anything, it made him seem even more deadly.

  “Catherine!” Lillian’s strident tone pulled her attention from Mr. Slay, but not before she saw the gleam of interest—and of something else—shining in the shadowy depths. What had he seen? While she knew she was attractive—many men found her so—she did not have the same exotic appeal her mother had. With the dark streaks mixed among her blonde hair, she took after her long-dead father more than her mother.

  She had never felt less like being compared to her exotic mother. And her mother didn’t like to share the attention of men, even with her own daughter. Not even her father’s attention. Though he’d still managed to find a way to share his love with her.

  Once Lillian, ever the consummate actress, held everyone’s attention, she gracefully stood, took Mr. Davar’s arm and walked across the room. Dark annoyance tinted her mother’s emerald depths. On her arm, Mr. Davar had an easy smile firmly fixed on his face. Almost as if it had been chiseled there.

  Lillian approached Catherine. The exaggerated motion of her hips drew the gaze like a bee to honey, and Mr. Slay was no exception. For a strange reason, Catherine was disappointed he had so easily fallen under her mother’s spell.

  “Asher, darling, so good of you to join us today.” Lillian held out her hand. Mr. Slay, Asher, took it and brought the fingers to his lips where he pressed a quick kiss.

  “My pleasure to see you again, Lillian.”

  “Come, darlings,” Lillian purred and drew Mr. Davar closer. With both men at her side, she stopped in front of the desk. “Bill. Ash. I’d like you to meet my daughter, Catherine.”

  Catherine stood and held out her hand to Mr. Davar, sensing he was the power in this threesome, despite her mother’s assertions that she controlled him. The languid strength in the blond man was clear to anyone who was not as self-absorbed as her mother.

  “I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Davar.”

  “Ah,” he drawled, his voice as smooth, and as sticky, as glue. “The daughter is every bit as beautiful as the mother. But, please, call me Bill.”

  “Thank you,” Catherine said, but darted a quick look at her mother.

  Her mother didn’t like when other women were praised in front of her. Especially her own daughter. And by the two lines between her eyebrows, and the flash of pursed lips, her mother hadn’t liked Bill’s comment.

  Which was proven when she clutched his arm tighter to her chest and leaned into him to murmur, “But she is so young. So innocent. You need an experienced woman.”

  She reached a hand behind his neck and pulled his lips down to hers, locking him into a passionate kiss, pressing her breasts into his chest and grinding her hips against his.

  Catherine’s eyes widened. Good grief, her mother must really like this man. For all her flirta
tious and forward attitude, she didn’t usually maul a man in public. She must want something from him. Something important.

  As Catherine suddenly remembered she was not the only witness to her mother’s behavior, Catherine’s gaze turned to Ash. Heat rose to her cheeks. It was one thing for her mother to behave in such a way in front of her daughter, but in front of another?

  Almost as if he’d read her discomfort, he extended his hand and warm fingers enveloped hers. “Delighted to meet you, Catherine.”

  His voice was a low hum of scented sheets, firelight dancing off sweat-sheened muscles and a face dark and hungry with passion. She felt her sex clench in response to his seductive tone. Oh dear God in Heaven.

  Thankfully, her mother had finished with Bill and was pulling both men away to the settee before Catherine had to open her mouth and try to speak around her thick tongue and dry lips. She swallowed hard several times, trying to force the saliva to flow. Angella came in with a tray of tea and champagne, which she set in front of Catherine.

  “Thanks, Angella,” Catherine whispered, not trusting herself to speak above a soft tone.

  Angella nodded, then took the champagne to her mother. After the drinks were served, Lillian settled against the cushions, tossed back the alcohol then pinned a questioning gaze on Bill.

  “Bill, darling, you said you had some good news for me. A reason to celebrate.”

  After placing his untouched champagne on the side table, Bill nodded. “Indeed I do. Thanks to the spectacular investigative efforts of Asher, I know where the crystal skull is.”

  Lillian clasped her hands in delight. “Wonderful! Where is it?”

  Bill smiled, the reflex touching his lips but not moving to his cold eyes. He flicked a glance at Asher, then focused the full weight of his stare on Lillian. “Ah yes, that is the best part of the news.” He leaned forward and took her hands between his. “How would you like to take a trip to Iraq?”

  She frowned. “Iraq? Why on earth would I want to go to such a pitiful country in South America?”

  “Because that’s where you will find the skull, my dearest,” he crooned as he leaned forward, looking deep into Lillian’s eyes.

  Catherine saw the annoyed expression in her mother’s face fade a bit but not disappear. At least he hadn’t made Lillian angry by telling her Iraq was closer to Africa, not South America.

  “I’m sorry, Bill, as much as I’d love to, I can’t go. I have two shows to film and there’s this A-list party I absolutely must attend if I want to break into movies. I just don’t have the time.”

  For as long as Catherine could recall, her mother had longed to be on the silver screen. She’d started out taking bit parts in soap operas and her brand of natural seductiveness had elevated her from a walk-on to a soap-opera goddess. She’d received a number of daytime awards but still coveted a movie role. There’s no way she’d give up a chance to mix with Hollywood directors and producers. Not even for Bill, whom her mother seemed to idolize.

  Bill leaned forward. Catherine hid a gasp at to flash of something she’d seen in his eyes. Had they just been red? Or had she imagined the flicker of scarlet as a reflection from the fire?

  “What if I told you that the man is a big fan of yours and can help you with your movie career?” His voice was pitched soft and soothing with a fake ring Catherine heard but was sure her mother didn’t notice.

  Her mother sat straight, her attention fully on Bill.

  “And that he has connections with Spielberg, Lucas and Bruckheimer?” he continued. “If you do this for me, I’ll make sure you receive your fondest desire.”

  Her mother sucked in a breath, causing her breasts to swell, pushing them upward and almost out of the confines of the gown. “Really? You would do that for me?”

  Catherine could see the petulant look on her mother’s face soften and recognized the signs that said for that elusive movie contract, she would do whatever Bill wanted her to do.

  “You are the only one I can trust to get the skull for me. Will you do this, my treasure?”

  “Of course, I will, my darling.” Her mother leaned into his touch, bending to rub her cheeks against the backs of his hand like an indolent cat.

  Catherine looked away, turning to stare out the window. She clasped the teacup. The fragile object rattled against the saucer and she set both down. Her stomach turned at seeing her mother play with men the way she did, as well as watching her get played by those men with the talents and skill to see through Lillian’s games. There weren’t many men like that. Which proved exactly what a sad gender men truly were and why Catherine avoided them like the plague.

  “Do not let what you see make you think ill of all men.”

  The masculine voice rumbled at her side. She let out a squeak of surprise. Thank goodness she hadn’t still been holding the teacup.

  Unwilling for Mr. Slay to see her uncomfortable, she lifted her chin. “What makes you think I’m thinking anything about men?” she tossed back. At least my voice didn’t tremble as much as my knees.

  His lips barely stretched into a smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. “I can see it in your expression.” He looked down. “And the way you are clasping your fingers. Your knuckles are whitening.”

  Catherine’s gaze tore from his. He was right. She was holding on as if her fingers touching were the only thing keeping her from collapsing. She disentangled her grip.

  Why couldn’t she be more like her mother? Confident. Serene. Seductive around men. Why did she feel as if every time a man looked at or spoke to her she was on the verge of splintering into tiny pieces?

  Get ahold of yourself, Catherine. You are your mother’s daughter. You can do this. She lifted her gaze to his. She rested her palms on the desk and leaned forward, her upper body inclining toward him.

  She smoothed her features into what she hoped was a provocative expression like the type she’d seen on her mother’s face hundreds of time. “Oh?” Catherine breathed. “And just what do you see in my eyes, handsome?”

  Even as the words came out of her mouth, she cringed inside. This was so not her, but before the men had arrived, she’d promised Lillian she would try to seduce Bill’s companion. Oh, not sleep with him. Her mother would never permit Catherine to sleep with a man Lillian desperately wanted. Merely to make him more palatable, more agreeable, to whatever machination her mother had in mind.

  Mr. Slay’s long lashes swept down, partially concealing his eyes. Only a glint of light remained and it showed nothing of what he was thinking. Or feeling. He moved closer, his lips near enough now she could feel his warm breath on her own mouth. She sucked in a gasp of air, both wanting him to kiss her and fearing he would.

  He stopped moving in and hung there. Just when she thought she would have to close the distance or scream, he spoke. “Don’t play this game, Catherine. It’s beneath you.”

  Heat rose from her chest into her cheeks then drained, leaving her cold. She watched him pull away and walk over to Bill, then bend to whisper into his ear. Bill threw back his head, laughed and stared right at Catherine. Any blood she had remaining in her face fell away. Her mother looked over, her eyes narrowed on Catherine.

  That was enough. She could not take the humiliation any longer. With a soft sob, she bolted from behind the desk and fled for the exit.

  As the door to her mother’s receiving room closed, she heard her mother say, “Sometimes I just don’t know what to do with that girl. If I hadn’t birthed her myself, I would never believe she was mine. Come, Mr. Slay, I’ll find you someone worthy of your attentions.”

  Catherine cupped her hand over her mouth and ran upstairs to the sanctity of her room and library. The only places she felt completely safe and comfortable. At peace.

  Using the pretense of a summoning by Lucifer, Asher left the cold mansion, left Beliel and the clinging human woman. Outside, in the heat of a Californian summer, Ash still felt the chill of the woman’s predatory nature and barely resisted a shudder.
By the black waters of the river Styx, he’d thought Beliel cold. That woman nearly outdid the son of the devil.

  As for the other…

  Well, Ash regretted how he had behaved with the daughter, but that didn’t mean he’d change what he had done. He couldn’t. Not if he wanted to see his plans to fruition.

  “When did you become such a coldhearted bastard, Asher? Or have you always been and I just couldn’t see it?”

  As the warm-honey tone rolled over him, Asher closed his eyes.

  “Kitty.” He opened his eyes and turned to face the ghost.

  What did he say to the woman he helped murder? Every time he looked at her, his chest hurt in the region his heart would be, if he actually had one. When he’d chosen to fall with the rest of his brothers, he’d made another choice. And from that day, anything resembling a heart had turned to stone. It wasn’t until he saw her a few weeks ago he realized he could still feel something. Seeing her in her ghostly form, in Mikos’s home while she berated his friend for his treatment of the new Defender, the past had come flooding back.

  Her smiling eyes with the little crinkles at the corners that deepened the harder she laughed and the rich brunette hair that fell over his chest like a silken waterfall as they made love rushed into his mind. And the tenderness and love in her gaze that washed over him each time she saw him. All that, he destroyed with one choice. A choice that even with what had come with it, he could not regret. He’d lost Kat, but others had been saved.

  “Not coldhearted.” He sighed as he answered. “Realistic.”

  “Realistic, my ass.” She placed her hands on her hips. Dark thunderclouds rolled behind her glare. He half expected lightning to strike him from the force of her displeasure. He’d always loved her anger. “You didn’t use to be such an insensitive jerk.”

  His lips twisted. “Oh I was. You just didn’t see it.”

  For a moment, uncertainty darkened her eyes further. His gaze wandered over her insubstantial form. Over the last few months, she’d gotten better at being able to keep herself more solid. Sometimes the edges blurred, especially when her emotions were high. As they were now.