His Seductive Target (Afterlife, #2)

by Nichole Severn

  A groan punctured through his self-loathing. Isabel’s mortal disguise knitted itself over her one black wing and skin beside him. Her eyes returned to blue as she stared up into the fiery expanse of clouds. Neither of them had the energy to move. Nika’s burst of power had depleted their reservoirs dry. The shear amount of power required to knock him out cold would power New York City for over a week and she’d collected it in a matter of seconds. He’d never seen anything like her.

  Never would again.

  The hatred that’d filled her eyes as he’d begged for her understanding said it all. She didn’t want him. He’d lied to her when all she’d asked for was the truth. The pain spreading throughout his ribcage took the sulfuric air from his lungs. He’d never heal. Not without her. Searing agony ripped through him, but, combined with Nika’s final words, he had no other choice than to end this himself. Even if it meant he’d never get her back.

  “Why did you bring us here? We won’t last more than an hour with every demon hunting us for the bounties on our heads.” Isabel stood, stumbling. Her torn armor slid off one shoulder. She pulled it back into place. Those pitch black eyes centered on him after a moment. The weight of pure evil crashed into him. “All you had to do was give him that bitch of a detective like you were told and none of this would’ve happened. We wouldn’t be here.”

  Boiling waves of rage he’d swallowed back the past two minutes rushed to the surface. He gathered every ounce of energy he’d saved, and, in an instant, locked his hand around the demon’s throat. Depleted oxygen tore through his lungs as he struggled to stay upright. Her pulse pushed back in the palm of his hand in a rhythmic dance. They both knew he had the best location of killing her instantly. “Talk about her like that again and I will end you.”

  “Why haven’t you already, Grayson? That was your mission. Me and the mortal. You had your chance back in that clearing. You could’ve slaughtered me right then and there when she took my power, but you didn’t. Even now, you can squeeze a bit tighter, but something tells me you won’t.” The words wheezed through Isabel’s constricted windpipe, but delivered the Arch-demon’s message clearly: she wanted to make a deal. “That tells me you don’t have a plan. All you can think about is her.”

  He swallowed hard. His hand squeezed in warning. “Don’t push me.”

  “You love her, which makes her a target to anyone remotely interested in the bounty on your head. I can help with that. You just have to get me out of this hellhole.” A smile thinned her cracked lips. “No pun intended.”

  Her proposal smothered the heat burning him from the inside. Pushing the Arch-demon back with a hard thrust, he dropped his hand to his side. “You can’t get inside my head, demon. I know exactly what you’re capable of and who you are. You’re a survivor. You’ll do anything to make it out of this alive.”

  “Lucky for you, you have no idea who I am.” A cruel smile crossed Isabel’s lips as she straightened. Her dirt-caked blonde hair danced and jerked with the intense winds cutting through the dead trees and low mountains around them. “I heard your mortal reject you. She doesn’t want to see you ever again, but you know for a fact the Deceiver won’t give up on her. He’s killed every Destroyer since he took over the Underworld. To him, she’s just another threat that needs to be dealt with.”

  No. Impossible. Nika couldn’t be the Destroyer. The legend he’d read about killed without thought, neither taking the Father’s or the Deceiver’s side, but solely sided with the very first beings in existence. The Old Ones. Grayson closed his eyes against the harsh winds. Page after page of text and drawings from his research on how to break his oath to the Deceiver flew across his mind. It’d taken him weeks to come to terms with the fact both the Father and the Deceiver weren’t all powerful, but only held power over this earth. Raised Catholic, it hadn’t seemed real. But that simple idea had led him to the only chance of breaking his oath. While God and the Devil kept the balance of power on this planet, others like them watched over the universe. But the Old Ones needed an insurance policy, a being who couldn’t side with either good or evil and would annihilate earth if that balance got too out of hand. The Destroyer. Drawings of the legend flashed at the back of his eyes. It’d been beautiful. Pale blue skin, ice-like frozen blue eyes, deep sapphire hair and lean build. He opened his eyes and locked on Isabel. But those drawings weren’t of Nika. Or were they?

  She didn’t kill without thought. Standing in for justice, she’d worked years to keep New York City safe. And she sure as hell never followed orders from anyone but herself. Including him. She couldn’t be the Destroyer. She couldn’t take six billion innocent lives because she’d been ordered to. That wasn’t the mortal he’d fallen in love with.

  But she wasn’t mortal. And the Deceiver wanted her dead for a reason.

  “That look on your face tells me you know exactly what I’m talking about and what she’s capable of,” Isabel said. “Given the right motivation, she could kill every demon in the Underworld. Actually, she could kill anyone. Even the Father.”

  Tightness coiled the muscles across his back tighter. His instincts urged him to disagree with the demon, but it all made perfect sense. Her outburst of power, the way her body fought Isabel’s infection, the reason the Deceiver wanted her dead. Air rushed from his lungs. Why hadn’t he seen it from the beginning? The echo of her rejection hit him square in the gut. Had she known what she was?

  Didn’t matter. Without him to protect Nika, the Deceiver would hunt her down and ensure his survival. Unless Grayson got to him first. “Then you probably shouldn’t have killed her sister.”

  “That wasn’t my call.” The Arch-demon hiked the strap of her armor higher on her shoulder. “But let’s not dwell on the past, shall we? You have a choice here. You can march me into that throne room and hand me over to the Deceiver or you can go back to your little…whatever she is by getting rid of the threat altogether. What will it be?”

  He knew better than to trust a demon, especially Isabel, but hope had set up residence in his head and he couldn’t let it go. Nika had awakened something inside of him so desirous he’d forgotten the reasons he’d pledged himself to the Deceiver. His skin tingled at the fantasy of waking up beside her each morning. She’d taken his pain and healed the space where his soul was meant to reside. The answer rested on the tip of his tongue, but his throat refused to work. The choice would change him forever, would change the battle between the Father and the Deceiver.

  His heart skipped a beat. And it’d all be for nothing.

  He ignored the stinging pain bolting down his spinal column. “And how am I supposed to go back to her without a soul? The Deceiver took it from me when he turned me into a demon.”

  “You probably wouldn’t believe me, but I’ve thought of that myself at one point. When I hated what I’d become.” An evil smile spread across the demon’s features. Isabel reached behind her and pulled a short sword from her back. The red sky reflected off the pristine steel. Not a scratch or knick in the blade. “Turns out any being that kills the Father or the Deceiver inherits everything under their control. Including the souls they’ve taken. Kill him with this and you’d get your soul back and live happily ever after with the woman of your pathetic little dreams. I happen to get what I want too. Everyone wins. All you need is this blade.” She stretched both hands out, palms up, and offered him the sword.

  “What’s this?” He wrapped his hand around the warm handle. Surprisingly light for steel, the blade cut through the air with little effort.

  “Let’s just say it’s done the job before and leave it at that,” she said. “The less you know, the better.”

  “So I kill him with this and become the next Deceiver.” Interesting. Warning bells rang loud in his head. Their eyes locked. Darkness pressed in on him from every direction. No other demon made him anxious the way she did. As though Isabel had hidden her true nature all this time, an untapped power more ancient than she’d led everyone to believe sent a tremor down h
is spine. She was right. He had no idea what she was and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He lowered the sword to his side. “If I’m going to do this, I need to know what you get out of this.”

  “After you’ve taken his power, I want you to give me back my soul. That makes me my own boss. I’ll even swear to leave you and your Destroyer to your pitiful lives after the deed is done. Now’s the time to make your choice, Grayson.” Facing him, the demon disintegrated in a cloud of black smoke, but her voice echoed throughout his mind even after she’d gone. “Follow me.”

  As Eve had been lured in the garden by the Deceiver for the beginning of man, Grayson faced his own temptation. His choices: become the Deceiver to protect the woman he loved or fight an eternal battle for the bastard that’d stolen his Afterlife.

  A life without Nika wouldn’t be a life at all. Not with her swimming through his thoughts, through his veins. They’d been one for only a few moments, but it’d been enough to give him a glimpse of what it’d be like to take back control of his fate. The memories would stay with him for the rest of his existence. No matter what happened next, he wouldn’t give up on her the way she’d been willing to give up on him.

  He’d fight for her until his last breath. Even if it was a few short hours away.

  “All right.” He rolled up the remnants of his shirt’s sleeves. “No big deal. It’s just two demons that don’t trust each other off to kill their creator. I can do that.”

  He wasn’t stupid enough to believe Isabel wouldn’t betray him. It was the demon’s nature. Still, having her on the opposite end of “enemy” for a few hours was the only way this idiotic plan would work. Gathering the remains of his recovering energy, he visualized the Deceiver’s throne room and vanished.

  Within a single second, he clamped onto two columns to keep from falling head first fifty feet. Coming or going, the Deceiver wouldn’t have a chance in hell. His perch high above the throne provided him a visual from any direction. Fire burned beneath him, licking up the walls, and illuminated every inch of the massive throne room where he’d sworn to bring Nika to her death. All except the corner he’d chosen against the structure’s original ceiling. Surrounded by carved gargoyles, he’d given himself the advantage. The Deceiver wouldn’t expect an ambush in his own kingdom.

  The feel of the same endless walkway he’d knelt on when the oath bound him bit into his memory as he studied it from above. In that moment of surrender, of desperation, he’d never imagined turning back, never imagined escaping the life he’d been dealt. Now it was all he could think of. He had something greater—someone greater—to live for and nothing would stop him from going back to her.

  He’d killed before, but the conviction he’d had then didn’t exist any longer. His hands shook. A newfound devotion blossomed in its place. To a being that could destroy the world. Nika gave him strength as he closed his eyes. The memory of her fiery intelligence and determination steadied his nerves. Of everything they’d been through since he’d forced himself into her life, she’d never wavered.

  And neither could he.

  Not unless he’d suddenly become capable of giving her up, which he hadn’t.

  Where had Isabel gone?

  Movement registered at the end of the walkway, opposite the enormous onyx-carved throne. Two hundred feet from his position, a thin figure stepped into the chamber and his heart froze mid beat. Blonde ponytail, thick cargo jacket, scuffed boots. He grew excited and relaxed at the same time. Tension gripped every muscle in his body.

  Nika.

  Confusion clouded his judgment for the series of four deep breaths. He’d specifically told her not to follow him to the depths of the Underworld, but he couldn’t deny the relief of setting eyes on her again. She approached the throne, searching, but something about her stiff approach set him on edge.

  “Grayson?”

  His name on her lips sent a shiver down his spine. Never had that happen. Her presence alone forced his body to react in ways he’d never imagined, but dread had never been a response. Until now.

  Whoever waited for him below wasn’t his mate.

  His target had been known for his mind games dating back to the Garden of Eden and apparently still enjoyed watching his servants suffer. He only prayed Nika hadn’t really come looking for him and been caught in the diversion. His instincts told him she hadn’t. Yet. She’d follow Isabel into the Afterlife if it meant bringing her sister to justice, but he’d do whatever it took to ensure nothing waited for her on the other side.

  Rushing air blocked out his hearing as Grayson dropped fifty feet from his lookout nest. He landed on the balls of his feet, but rolled silently behind the massive throne dedicated to destroying souls. He still had the upper hand. The Deceiver might’ve sensed his diminishing power, his soul most likely recognizing its owner, but with his own energy battling for purchase, the bastard hadn’t pinpointed his location. He slipped the right side of his body from behind his makeshift cover, his chest pressed against the back of the throne, and reached back for the blade Isabel had lent him.

  The imposter had vanished.

  Where the devil himself had stood a moment ago, empty space consumed his attention for two breaths. He swallowed hard. He maneuvered around the base of the throne, but kept his body low and senses on high alert. His back pressed against the solid onyx as he inhaled thick, sulfurous air deep into his lungs. Ornately carved serpents stared down at him from the edges of the massive chair, poised to strike if ever brought to life. Where was Isabel? Shit. He could never rely a demon for anything. He gripped the blade Isabel had given him harder when a pair of boots swung up and over the throne’s arm, right above his head. Nika’s boots.

  “You don’t have to hide down there, Grayson. I already know you’re here to kill me.” Her voice, so alluring, sliced through his murderous intentions, an obvious distraction on the Deceiver’s part.

  And it’d worked.

  He straightened to his full height. Confronted by this version of his mate, a simple glamour, he’d lost the advantage of surprise against the one opponent he’d needed it against the most.

  The monster caged inside stirred at the mention of Nika, desperate for release against the strongest enemy it’d ever faced. Nearly stripped of his power, he straightened. Nika’s crystal blue gaze stared back at him. A small smile thinned one corner of her lips. That same smile had sent desire surging through his veins in their own private encounters, but now pushed bile up his throat. Rage replaced his initial shock. No matter how hard the Deceiver tried, he hadn’t fooled him. Lounged across the throne where so many had lost their lives, the master residing inside his mate’s skin shifted forward and stood.

  “No matter what you say or do, I know how this will end, Grayson.” The Deceiver shed the glamour, thousands of changes occurring simultaneously in the blink of an eye. Dark hair, brown eyes, and a strong jaw materialized. The devil at his finest. “You can’t kill me, not when I’m the one in possession of your soul and frankly, I’ve run out of patience with you. Of all the chances I’ve given you to prove yourself, to make a life here, you’ve chosen to mate with the one being capable of destroying everything I’ve worked for.”

  “Are you looking for an apology?” He intensified his hold around the short sword at his side. Wait for the the right moment.

  “The only apology I want from you is your death, Grayson. You owe me that much.” The cynical laugh that bubbled from the Deceiver’s throat simmered nausea in his stomach. Taunting the bear had rarely worked in his experience, but sooner or later, the asshole would show his weakness.

  And he’d exploit it fully.

  “Did you really believe your Destroyer could break your oath to me? Every one hundred years she’s reincarnated and every one hundred years I’ve had her killed. You’d think the Old Ones would stop trying to take what’s mine, but parents really think they know best,” the Deceiver said.

  Absolute control over his hatred disappeared. Grayson swiped Isabel’s
blade across the Deceiver’s throat. He relaxed as his master’s hands went to his neck. Shallow gasps echoed throughout the chamber. Eyes wide, the Deceiver collapsed onto his back, his life escaping through the thick cut across his airway. Silver blood dripped down into his collar and ruined the dark, wrinkle-free suit. He’d always hated those damn suits. “Go to hell.”

  His muscles released one by one. It was over. He’d done it. Grayson stumbled back one step and turned his back on the demon that’d transformed him into one of the deadliest monsters over a year ago. Relief washed through him. His oath had been broken, his soul set free. His mate saved. And nothing in the Underworld would keep him from seeing her again.

  An arm wrapped across his torso from behind, pinning the blade to his side. His instincts urged the beast inside free, but with so little power left, he couldn’t force his true nature out. He ground his teeth together as the blade was ripped from his hand.

  “I intend to.” Breathtaking pain erupted throughout his torso. Steel tore through the front of his ruined dress shirt. Fire scored through his system as the Deceiver withdrew the blade from his chest. The clang of metal against stone rang loud in his ears, the sword discarded at his feet. His lungs refused to cooperate. Shock dulled the pain and rushed adrenaline to his extremities, but not enough to fight. Pulling away, Grayson tried to place a hand over the wound to contain the vast amount of silver blood escaping from his back, but dropped to his knees.

  “I made you into what you are, Grayson. I control you.” The rip through the Deceiver’s throat disappeared as the demon rounded into his vision. Two sides of the wound knit together as though the blade had never separated them. “And when I’m finished ripping you into pieces, I’m going to find your Destroyer.”