A Wicked Desire (Creatures of Darkness 3), page 9
“What would you do for me in return?” he asked in a deep suggestive tone.
Her jaw dropped as outrage kicked in. “I’m not going to sleep with you if that’s what you’re suggesting.”
“Sleep hadn’t even entered my mind, cher.”
“You’re despicable.”
“Then why do I see interest in your eyes?”
“You do not! If anything, you see disgust. You should be familiar with it. I’m sure you’ve encounter it on multiple occasions.” Her outrage was making her tongue sharp. She needed his help.
“Are you forgetting our deal? If I wanted you, I could have you anyway.”
She took in his cold mask, his gray shuttered eyes, the mocking tilt to his jaw, trying to find something humane in a man who was far from human. “Would you really force me? Is that who you are?”
His expression remained indecipherable.
“Our deal hinges on Mace’s survival,” she spat when he made no reply. “If you don’t help me save him, I’ll be inclined to cut you off completely. No more blood for Knoxy.”
A tic in his jaw betrayed his burgeoning anger. Then he offered a smile, but it was all fang and no humor. “You really think I would let that happen?”
She affected her best I have you by the balls expression, letting all the bravado she could muster seep through her pores. “You really think you’d have a choice?” It must have come across as she intended, because his arrogant smirk slowly faded to an uncertain frown.
“Help me, Knox,” she pleaded once more, sensing a ghost of compliance in the shadows of his gaze. “Help me and things can continue as they are. You can play the dominant, feed as you like, and I will play the submissive, and do most everything you ask.” She cleared her throat and set her shoulders. “But sex isn’t on the table.”
For a moment he was perfectly still—all but his eyes, busy searching her face for a crack in her conviction. After a moment, his smile returned on a throaty chuckle. He reached up and brushed his thumb over her lips. “Too bad, because that’s the only thing that might even remotely make me consider doing this.”
She bristled. “You would make me do that, even if I don’t want to?”
“I take what I want, when I want,” he told her harshly, adding, “And you most definitely do want to. You just don’t want to admit it.”
“So you are that type of man.” Something like sorrow constricted her heart. Or maybe it was disappointment. She knew he was a bastard, but at some point over the course of their relationship, without her even realizing, a spark of trust, tiny as it was, had begun to bloom in her— snuffed out with his next words.
“I am the type of man you force me to be.”
“Bullshit. You are who you want to be. And to me, it looks like you’re a selfish, self-serving little prick ruled by fear.”
“Just because I refuse to place myself in the path of an oncoming train doesn’t mean I fear the tracks. And believe me when I say there’s nothing little about this prick.”
“You’re scared shitless and I can feel it,” she said haughtily. “You can lie to yourself, but you can’t lie through the bond.”
The shock on his face was priceless. His head slashed hard to the right as if he was mentally checking his ability to block his emotions. As always, he was doing a phenomenal job, but as intended, Cora’s bluff seeded doubt.
“You lie,” he accused.
“I’m growing more proficient by the day. Do you really think I haven’t found a way to see through you by now?”
“You lie!” he repeated louder, making her wince.
“What did Sadira do to you, Knox? Why are you so afraid of her?”
His fist moved so fast, she didn’t have time to flinch. Knuckles collided with rock directly to the right of her head. Stone splintered, clattering to the ground. Smaller bits found a home on her shoulder and in the tangles of her hair. Dust wafted in a slow plume.
She blinked twice at the snarling fury bearing down on her, the promise of cold death in his eyes. Anyone else would have cringed away, cried mercy, maybe curled into a trembling ball at his feet. Anything to be spared the threat of his pounding rage.
She wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to.
Not long ago, that was exactly how she would have responded; found a safe place in the back of her mind till the thing threatening her either killed her or went away. But she’d been through too much, learned to sidestep that terrible need, to let it roll around in her head till it found a rift and seeped away.
She had to keep pushing him. She didn’t have a choice. She had to change his mind. If the promise of sex was the only way, so be it—deep down she’d known he would go there eventually, even if Mace hadn’t been cursed. She had already considered it, weighed her options, and tossed around alternatives.
When she said she’d do anything to save Mace, she meant every word, every syllable, every letter. So yes, if Knox demanded sex from her in exchange for his service, she would reluctantly comply, was already mentally preparing her shoulders for the thousand-ton weight of self-loathing, but she was sure as hell going to exploit every other option first—calling into question his courage seemed as good as any.
Some men crumbled under less.
The male ego was a fragile, breakable thing, thin as ice on a warming lake, a chipped window ready to splinter, and a woman with a clever tongue knew just where the cracks should go for proper flexibility without getting injured by falling shards—those who didn’t risked a storm of blades.
Right now, Cora imagined those sharp-edged blades suspended dangerously over her head, their tips gleaming and chiming with icicle fragility. She had to tread carefully.
“I know you want revenge on Sadira,” she said in a smooth tone. “I can taste it. I want it too.”
“You know nothing about me,” he hissed. “Don’t pretend that you do. You want lover boy back. That’s it.”
Instinctively she knew lying to Knox would only work against her.
“Yes,” she allowed easily, though she didn’t believe Mace would ever want to be her lover again. “Sadira’s trying to kill someone I care for deeply, and watching Mace go through such pain…” she paused for a calming breath. “It’s like watching my own heart wither before my eyes. Can you try to understand how that feels?”
His features eased an almost indiscernible fraction, and for a second, she got the impression he did understand. However, his gaze remained chilled, hard.
She pressed. “I won’t feel safe till she’s back in her prison. I know you want that too.”
“Ah, but you don’t know how to do that.”
“I will learn.”
His eyes narrowed. His anger still buzzed at the edge of her consciousness, so strong it nearly knocked down her walls with its raw potency.
The dangling blades above sang for her blood.
He despised the idea of her magical education, would have kept her magic bound if he could, rendering her as useless and weak as any human—the easier to control.
She vehemently ignored the fact that, had she still been under that binding spell, Mace wouldn’t be in this mess. It was her fault, and she would fix it! “I’m not going to stick my tail between my legs like a frightened pup and let her get what she wants. Will you?”
She couldn’t tell what he was thinking.
“We can do this, Knox. Together, you and I. We can beat her.”
Was he wavering? Resolved? He said nothing for so long, she began to worry anew.
Finally, he stepped back.
Cool air rushed her body, taking his place.
He turned, giving her his back, and to her surprise, started retracing his steps through the corridor, back towards the group.
He called hotly over his shoulder, “You ever call me by that name again and I’ll use your vocal cords as a bolas.”
It took her a moment to realize what name he meant: Knoxy, the endearment Sadira had given him.
“Does that mean you’ll do it?”
Chapter 10
The room was of decent size, three-hundred square feet by Cora’s estimation. The overhead lights had been dimmed. Three of the four doors, one on each wall, had been heavily warded with that white substance. Added to that was a continuous line that ran the entire perimeter of the room about a foot’s distance from each wall but for the fourth, unwarded door. Beyond which, according to Knox, Sadira’s specter was trapped. At the base, a U-shaped divot had been powdered partway into the room.
That was where Cora would stand and allow her body to become the vessel of another.
Sara was perched at the center of the room, hovering over a cauldron that was boiling atop a small portable stove. She had insisted on starting her brew before Cora allowed herself to be possessed, and was well into it. Cora thought that was wise.
Each of the others were preparing their positions as well with wide powdery circles. They were taking no chances. Bray, Trent, and Raven were to stay near one of the three doors in case of an emergency. If all went well, they wouldn’t have to get involved at all, merely spectate.
Since she needed a direct line to Cora free of the warding powder, Sara was to be the only one vulnerable to attack. That was where Knox came in. His job was to brush away the powder when, and only when, it was time, and then grab Cora, or rather, Sadira to keep her from shooting a spell at the only person who could expel her.
Cora stood, staring at the door, apprehensive, trying not to fret over her coming fray while gathering her courage. Now that she was here, everyone on board, she was losing some of her bravado. Could she really get the information she needed out of Sadira? What if Sadira proved more powerful—or worse, swallowed her soul in one consummate bite, no talking, no negotiations. What if the last thing Cora ever saw was the back of her own hand as she wiped away the mystical powder that bound Sadira beyond that door?
She shivered and tossed that thought away as hard and swiftly as she could. When you think you can’t, well then, you can’t. You’ve got to start thinking you can. Wise words from beyond the grave.
Besides, a soul shouldn’t be so easily destroyed, so easily devoured. There was an innate sense inside her, a certainty in her bones, her blood, her very molecules, that a soul, the undying, immortal essence of any individual, was made of tougher stuff than that.
Sadira had threatened to take hers, but hadn’t. Was that because she couldn’t? Or just because she hadn’t felt like it at the time? Was she all bluster?
According to Sara, the longer one was possessed the more energy it took to expel the interloper and keep the original owner seated in the body. Did that mean if Sadira got her claws in and held on tight enough, long enough, Cora could be flung out instead? That was probably why it had felt so terrible the last time. She recalled the unparalleled agony. It was as if her very essence was being ripped apart at the center, torn away section by section. Like Velcro, only stickier, and more maliciously intent on holding the connection. Part of Cora had always feared some residue had been left behind, little Sadira stains corrupting her soul.
She took relief in the fact that she wouldn’t be possessed as long as last time, so it shouldn’t be as agonizing when Sara began the process. She hoped.
She glanced at Knox. He had come to stand by her, joining her in her contemplation of the door. Was he worried? Would he perform as promised? Or would he vacate the room as soon as the wheels were in motion as he had last time?
She was putting her life, and Sara’s, in his hands.
Was she nuts? He wouldn’t mind being rid of the both of them.
Anxiety crashed like a giant wave against the base of her skull. A foreboding shiver danced between her shoulder blades.
She reminded herself he wanted Sadira incapacitated more than he wanted her or Sara dead.
Her eyes traveled to his waist where she now knew he had a trench knife sheathed at his belt, hidden under his coat. Before reaching the group at the entrance, he had pulled it out and tested the blade against his thumb. A silent warning? Or a bald promise?
He caught her gaze in a hard stare, his expression blank.
“You ready?” she asked tightly.
“Are you?” he replied.
She didn’t respond. Was she? She wasn’t entirely sure. But when Sara declared her spell was all but finished, she was out of time.
“Don’t betray me, Knox,” she muttered.
He gave her a belligerent glare. She didn’t understand why. But then, he was nearly always belligerent.
“If Sadira takes you over, I will do what I must.”
At least if Sadira did end up devouring her soul, she wouldn’t have to worry about being a helpless passenger trapped in the back of her own mind. Knox would kill her outright. There was a kind of morbid comfort in that.
“Thank you,” she heard herself mutter.
Naked confusion took the place of hostility before his expression blanked once more. “Let’s get this over with.”
After everyone declared their readiness, Cora stepped into the enclosure, released a heavy breath, opened the door, and gasped.
The adjacent room was filled to the brim with living rage.
For a moment she was stunned. It was like gazing at a dark nebula that had no substance, yet seemed so corporeal, taking up every corner of the room, beating like a massive black heart. Or was it breathing? It churned with a thousand small eddies, like mini galaxies drifting and crashing together, then breaking apart.
She realized her hands were shaking. To hide it, she squeezed them into fists.
A low gush of sound came from within the dark tempest. She strained to hear it. Was that…laughter? A cruel, pernicious vibration of the air with a perfect combination of madness and malevolence. If the devil laughed, this was what it would sound like. Evil, sadistic, and vicious.
Sweat beaded at her nape. The others looked as unnerved as she felt.
She glanced back at Bray. With his eyes, he was asking her not to do this. Do you need him? they said. Am I not enough?
She could back out. This was risky and dangerous and there was no guarantee of success. No one would think her a coward. Well, except maybe Raven. But she would be sentencing Mace to death, and she would hate herself forever.
She faced the dark nebula, knelt, and, heart in her throat, swept away the white powder linking the two enclosures.
Sadira wasted no time, and all that inky black stuff shot forward, engulfing her, pushing its way inside.
Initially, Cora thought the violent punch she felt had somehow come from behind, but realized quickly that her back had bowed so fiercely that her spine had nearly snapped. Her feet were off the ground as she was embraced by darkness.
Fine, sandy tendrils of the black nebula poured out, snaking around her, encircling her, filling her. It came in through her mouth, shoving down her throat, in through her ears, spearing her brain with the blades of a thousand knives, and wormed around into the sockets of her eyes, affecting her sinuses with what had to be the world’s worst migraine. The pressure was immense, nearly too much to bear. She almost blacked out but fought desperately to stay conscious. Her lungs burned and so did her veins as foreign power barreled through her like a rabid bull, grunting fire and digging up gristle with flaming hooves.
Something inside her gave out, surrendering. Her chest concaved, and breath was sucked painfully from her lungs.
Her vision clouded, growing dimmer and dimmer till blackness became the sum of her universe. Laughter broke the silence, growing from a small hymn to a deafening satanic oratorio. She couldn’t even move her arms to cover her ears. Her muscles were locked in place, no longer under her command. She thought she was on her knees now, still facing the door, but when her vision cleared, she was standing on her feet, scanning the room, assessing her enemies. They had her cornered like an animal. Trapped. Meant to do her harm. She would rip out their skulls and use them as croquet balls.
Her gaze slipped to her Knoxy.
Mine! Her mental growl rang truer now than ever, with the boisterous gong of a divine bell. Him she would spare. Then she would lock him in a cage till he understood his purpose.
She smiled at him sweetly. It must have come across a little feral because he tensed and hissed, “Sadira.”
“Soon you will say my name like an oath,” she informed him in a silvery tone.
“Cora, are you in there?” he said, ignoring her.
She laughed. “Cora doesn’t live here anymore. The silly twit.”
Knox cursed. As did another broadly-built male across the room.
“My, my. Cora has been a busy beaver,” she said. “Is this the one called Bray?” Yet another vampire bonded. That made what? Three? A small army. My army now.
“Give us the cure, Sadira.”
She turned toward the vaguely familiar voice and hissed at the one responsible for her incarceration: Trent, the master vampire. A violent cyclone of rage twisted around her, blaring with gale-force wind. Trent merely stared in that cold manner of his. He thought he was safe behind those weak ass wards. He had no idea the power this body held. She closed her eyes and mentally brushed up against that power, nudging it out of slumber, stoking it to life. When it flared, its strength surprised even her.
At her feet, the sandy blockade began to stir, at first only a few grains, then a few more. Soon a milky dust kicked up. Tiny pebbles rolled with the wind, slowly rising into the air. She threw out more power. More dust billowed, more sand moving to her command, till her lower half was curtained by a white-walled cyclone. Still, she was trapped. The warding line was thick. It would take some time to rip through it.
“What do we do?” Knox yelled at the little witch hunched around a boiling caldron. Sadira recognized her as the witch who had forced her out of Cora’s body last time. Saraphine. She would be the first to die.
“Stop this now!” Bray shouted over the din.
“Give her time!” Saraphine replied.
Ah. Sadira understood now. What had Trent said? Give us the cure. That was why they were here. Mace was getting worse and Cora thought she could waltz down here with her perfect lack of experience and beg for mercy. That misguided decision would cost the girl her life, and her body. Sadira would put better use to both.
