Dark Desires (Dangerous Warlocks Book 2), page 1
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Copyright 2020 – Ana Calin
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
CHAPTER I – Cursed Love
CHAPTER II – In The Devil’s Hands
CHAPTER III – The Choice
CHAPTER IV – The Betrayal
CHAPTER V – Beyond the Veils of Darkness
CHAPTER I – Cursed Love
Izzy
I SHOULDN’T FEEL THE way I do about Zillard Dark. He’s a half-demon, a prince of the Underworld whose pitch-black eyes could freeze the blood in Jack the Ripper himself. A half-demon who demanded my full submission in exchange for the souls he’d collected.
And he did free all the souls, by breaking the black crystal globe in which he kept them. Right before my eyes. He hurled it to the floor where it smashed into a thousand pieces.
It happened in the study of his mansion atop the Hill of Shadows, just a minute ago. A dark cloud escaped from the globe, exploding like the fumes of a nuclear bomb. I back up against the wall, watching as faces form out of the cloud, detaching from it and disappearing like ghostly fumes through the ceiling.
When the wailing and the darkness settle down, the sight of Zillard clears in front of me. He stands there, by the huge mahogany bookcase, the fire casting a golden glow on his deceivingly angelic face. He moves over to me slowly, the light drawing shiny patterns on his black suit. His moves are sleek. They remind me that this is a deadly man I’m facing, with devilish black eyes staring at me from his beautiful face.
I read somewhere once that when there’s so much contrast in people’s faces, or between the way they look and the sound of their voice, something is off about them. If I were to judge by those standards, I’d say that theory is spot on in Zillard’s case. The more he approaches, the shallower my breath. The tight black dress isn’t helping either—he has me wear elegant dresses at all times, strolling around in stilettos, which he says is for more than just his pleasure.
“Magic is elegance,” he’d say. “It will become as much a part of you as all the power that you’ll accumulate. Elegance must be your routine.”
He takes my chin between his fingers, staring deeply into my eyes. I hope he’ll finally kiss me again. He hasn’t done it since the last time we spent the night together, and I’m starting to worry that, now that he has me completely in his power, he’s lost interest in me. In the end, we’re not a couple. He’s the master, and I’m his slave, the woman who must submit to him forever in order for those souls to keep their freedom.
Not to mention that we’re still engaged in a battle of beliefs. He wants to prove to me that I’ve made a mistake, that those people didn’t deserve to be freed from the contract they had with him.
“But they will surely want to celebrate their new-found freedom,” he says. “How about we throw a feast?”
Without waiting for my response, he decides it’s going to be in a week, so that everyone has time to prepare.
The whole week I toss and turn at night, wondering what the catch is. Because I’m not buying the feast-of-gracefulness crap. Zillard has something to prove—to me, to those people, and to the world.
When the day comes, I try to appear cool and unimpressed, but it’s not easy. He looks perfect in a black suit that showcases his elegant, sleek frame that gives him the air of a gentleman, but his body language is that of a predator with intense eyes and blood red lips. I try, but I have a hard time looking away from him.
It doesn’t help that he hasn’t laid a hand on me in weeks. The uncertainty about where I stand with him makes me overthink every little gesture he makes. Thoughts have been spinning inside my head, consuming me, to the point that I have no appetite. Which means that I’ve lost weight, but I guess that’s not a problem right this moment. On the contrary. I’m wearing an emerald green one-shouldered cocktail dress that wraps very close to the shape of my body, and the mandatory stilettos. For the first time in my life, I might actually look fit for a catwalk.
To top it all, having spent all my days and evenings learning spells and reading about magic, my body has become imbued with it. That means that I’m more pleased with the image in the mirror every morning. My once mousy-brown hair has taken on a natural chestnut sheen, and it’s no longer tangled. It’s rich, and thick and healthy. My skin is better than it’s ever been, but the ghostly-blue of my irises didn’t change, which means that I’m still wearing my signature black eyeliner to make it look sexier.
“It’s time,” Zillard says, stepping into the fireplace portal and holding out his hand in invitation. “Your protégés are waiting.” His red mouth quirks up in a Machiavellian grin.
I put my hand in his, and step inside the portal. He smiles at me in that specific way that makes me feel things. Forbidden things.
“Why don’t you say the spell?” he invites. “It’s a good opportunity to practice.”
Magic sparks under my skin, giving me confidence. I close my eyes, lower my head, and speak the words. The air changes around us, and when I look around again, we’re no longer at Zillard’s mansion.
We’re in Professor Melvin’s library in the human realm, which is the exact replica of Zillard’s in the Flipside. The light is generous on the heavy bookcases, the mahogany furniture and the impressive fireplace that we’re stepping out of. This place feels more ‘alive’ than this same room in the Flipside, where shadows lurk in corners, hissing and moving about, magic oozing out of the books. Even the fire feels alive when Zillard snaps his fingers, and flames surge in the fireplace.
Professor Melvin and his daughter Sierra are waiting for us. They look uptight, rigid. They’re afraid. Which makes sense, considering that it was their idea that I try to kill Zillard the first time I traveled through the portal. They’re the ones who told me I might be Zillard’s own personal slayer, the only person able to kill him. So to him, they’re enemies whom he’d be well advised to eliminate before they come up with new ideas. But to me, they’re people I care about, and I won’t let him hurt them no matter what.
I wonder what he has in store for them, because he sure as hell didn’t set up the celebration at their house just because. He must have some wicked plan for them as well, so I must be ready to counter it.
Professor Melvin is wearing what clearly is one of his best suits, that of a Victorian gentleman, his silver hair curling at the nape of his neck. Sierra, his daughter, is a vision of brunette beauty with almond-shaped brown eyes, her hair cascading down her back in a glamorous ponytail.
Behind her there’s another beauty, one that makes my mouth curl in a sneer. It’s Astrid Nolan, Sam’s wife. The Scandinavian former model with the powerful green eyes and cleanly cut features. Sam stands next to her, his soft brown eyes lighting up when they see me.
I’m glad that he’s fine, but not nearly as ecstatic as I thought I’d be. On the contrary, I feel slight repulsion, knowing that he once sold his soul to the devil. Still, he is what Zillard calls ‘my protégé’, and it’s nice to see him as himself again, no longer sweaty-faced and acting crazy, babbling about apocalyptic prophecies.
Zillard steps up to my side and offers me his arm, making the glint vanish from Sam’s eyes.
“A pleasure to see the evening’s VIPs are already here,” he addresses them, then turns to Professor Melvin and Sierra. “Thank you, for allowing us to hold the celebration here. It was very gracious of you, considering that we’re not exactly friends.”
By the expression on the professor and Sierra’s faces, I’m sure they haven’t been given much choice. Zillard wouldn’t have invited as many humans as he did to this celebration if it was being held in the Flipside, and this house is as far as he’s allowed to step into the human world. The professor and Sierra are afraid of Zillard, and that’s why they’re doing his bidding with this event.
“Shall we?” he says, and we start towards the dining hall.
“You arranged it well,” I tell Sierra, forcing myself to smile as I take my place by Zillard’s side at the neatly arranged table, hoping to ease the tension that’s obvious in her every move.
“Thank you,” she murmurs back. “But I had help.” She looks to the people peeking out from the dark corridor by the far wall. Their servants. A few of them scurry inside, carrying trays. One of the girls hurries to pour wine in my glass as the bell rings, reverberating all through the dining room. Sierra hitches up her skirt and goes to receive the new guests.
My jaw drops as I recognize many of them as the faces I saw in the cloud where Zillard used to keep them before he freed their souls. As they flood the room, Professor Melvin and Sierra leading them to their places, my gaze sweeps over all of them. I recognize Mr. Barron, who runs the dairy factory just outside Heresia Oaks, and Judge Hamilton. Half the town works at the factory, and Judge Hamilton is the decision make
Uncomfortable muttering fills the air as people take their seats, Zillard presiding over the entire dining room from the head of the long table. I’m seated on his right.
Half an hour in, this gathering still doesn’t feel like anything remotely celebratory. Everyone here besides Zillard is uptight and uncomfortable, Sam more so than anyone. He keeps stealing glances at me, but then he always checks to see if Zillard saw him. I wish he would stop, because I know Zillard never misses anything. He only pretends to, so that people become bolder and make mistakes.
As for Astrid, her glacier eyes feel like blades every time they land on me. I look away every time our eyes meet.
After a welcome speech by Professor Melvin and a few awkward rounds of small talk that give everyone the opportunity to pretend they wouldn’t break out of here the first chance they get, Zillard stands, raising his glass.
“It warms my heart that all of you responded to our invitation.” His dark, chocolatey voice seeps into my system, and from the reaction of the other women here, I realize it does the same to them. I can see the lust in their eyes. They would drop to their knees and suck his cock under the table if he bade them to, even after everything he’s done. Jealousy bites me. I manage to keep it together, but only just. “I imagine you had the good sense to follow the instructions, and told no one where you were going tonight.”
His dangerous black gaze sweeps over them all, sending a ripple of fear through the room. It makes the men bubble up with tension, and women shudder with desire.
Letting my eyes wander over their faces, I ask myself in exchange for what all these people have sold their souls. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help but wonder just how bad was it, how low did they go, how dark were their desires?
“Then let us start by enjoying our dinner.” He grins. “We have a long evening ahead.”
Zillard snaps his fingers, and music starts to play from an unseen source, Jazz that fills the room at just the right volume. It fills the uncomfortable silence, but the tune reminds me of a vampire movie. It’s the kind of music that keeps you on edge.
“Mister Dark, if you’ll allow me,” the factory owner Mr. Barron begins, wiping his mouth on his napkin, and setting it back down on his knees. “I’d like to start by expressing my gratitude for—” He looks at the others, gesturing generously. “Well, for what you did for us. For what Miss Fabienne did for us. I would like to start by offering my, you know, my abilities, placing myself at Miss Fabienne’s disposal. Anything she might desire from me or any of us, she need only ask.”
It seems the food sticks’ in the others’ throats. Some look at him with a desperate ‘what the hell are you doing’ imprinted on their faces.
“You let us off the hook because of Miss Fabienne.” He stops and clears his throat, pulling his tie like it’s strangling him. “So, we’re at her disposal for anything she might need.”
Fuck, I wish he didn’t make me the center of attention like this. It feels like ants crawling all over me.
“May I address her personally, Mister Dark?” Mr. Barron presses when no reaction comes from Zillard, who apparently enjoys making this really hard on him. At first, he doesn’t react to this question either, and when he does, it’s only with a reluctant nod. That’s sure to put a knot in the man’s throat as he turns his attention directly to me.
“We are all in your debt, Miss Fabienne. Whatever you may desire, we will place at your feet. And I mean anything.” He stares me full in the face, but one of his eyes is twitching. It looks like his blood pressure is through the roof.
I saw the invitation, and I know the guests were required to offer me something as a sign of gratitude tonight. But nerves clearly got the better of Mr. Barron, and his offer came out too broad. Anything leaves a lot of room for exploitation. And he has gotten the others into the same trouble, too.
I can feel the energy in Zillard’s aura changing. It’s darker and more secretive, which tells me he’s got them exactly where he wanted them.
“That’s very generous of you, Mr. Barron,” he says. “You, along with all of the guests here tonight are some of the most influential people in Heresia Oaks, but still such a commitment can only come with a lot of uncertainty. Now, as we all know, uncertainty isn’t the nicest feeling to live with. But do not worry, Miss Fabienne will make her request this evening, or rather I will be making it on her behalf, so everybody can go home with a light heart.”
His hand slides over the back of my neck, warm and velvety. His touch electrifies my entire body. I purse my lips and squeeze my thighs together, hoping to suppress how much he turns me on.
“The main reason why we gathered here tonight is that I wanted you to meet the woman who saved you all,” he continues, and I know from the sound of his voice that he’s started to put his vicious plan into action. “Izzy sacrificed herself for the sake of your souls. They were that precious to her. She accepted my deal and submitted herself to me, in exchange for your freedom—which none of you deserved, if we’re honest.”
People fidget, their cheeks flushed with anguish.
“Izzy didn’t even ask what you had traded your souls for. What you had done. When I offered to tell her—because us devils don’t think much of information protection in a situation like this—she refused to know, which was the next thing that surprised me about her. But, if we’re all honest here, we know that no person in their right mind would have freed you at the expense of their own freedom, if they knew what you’d done.”
“Stop, Zillard,” I cut him off. “I still don’t want to know, and none of this is going to make me wish I’d chosen differently.”
“Oh, that wasn’t my intention, Izzy. I was only going to ask you to explain to our guests why you chose not to find out what they did.”
These people seem so normal, some of them even meek. It could make anyone wonder what could they have possibly done that was so wrong they deserved having their souls locked in that crystal globe.
“Knowing what people have done wrong only drives us deeper down the path of evil,” I say, feeling a pressing need to fill the silence. “Then we feel justified to hurt those people. Because, what the heck, they’ve done despicable things, maybe they even hurt our loved ones. But let’s be honest, what human being never did something terribly wrong in their lives? We judge each other based on that, but rarely ourselves. There’s always a reason to hate someone. So no, I don’t want to know.”
No one offers a reply. Only Sam stares at me like he has something to say but Astrid breaks the silence before he can do it.
“Yes, touching,” she says, setting her glass of wine on the table a little too roughly. I know her well enough to notice she resents not being the center of attention. “Very sophisticated of you, Izzy, we’re all impressed. But I have a question for you, Mister Dark, or rather a suggestion. You say you’ll help us leave here tonight with a light heart, that you’ll make the request for her, and be done with all this tension. I suggest we do that now. Let’s lose the stress and go straight to pleasure for the rest of the evening, what do you think?”
“I have no objection to that,” Zillard says, saluting her idea by raising his glass of wine. “So, short backstory. During the time Miss Fabienne and I have been spending with each other ever since she traded herself over to me in exchange for your souls, I was pleased to discover that she possesses magical abilities.”
The ripple of surprise that runs through the gathering is subtle, but I can feel it. I can’t believe the satisfaction I feel when I see Astrid’s catty green eyes flash with envy.
“But talent is wasted if not properly trained,” Zillard continues, “and I’ve taken it upon myself to train her, help her make the best of her potential.” There’s pride in the way he says it, and I freakin’ like it. Though I shouldn’t. This is a demon offering to train me in dark magic.
He snaps his fingers, and a hiss travels through the room. The finest hairs stand on the backs of my arms. Everybody tenses up, their eyes darting in all directions.
