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Authors: Bethan Tear

Wicked Game (7 page)

BOOK: Wicked Game
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“The tarot cards are ancient, powerful divination tools for seers such as my mother,” Marguerite spoke quietly, stroking one of the cards with a long finger, “But to me they are useless. Worthless. I do not posses the sight, nor have I ever claimed to but I don't need tarot cards or a crystal ball to see that you are in danger...terrible, unspeakable, mortal danger.”

             
She spoke each word slowly and deliberately, confirming everything that Hazelle had already believed in her heart and been too afraid to admit. Kaden was no good, as charming as he was, as captivating as he was, his beauty was unholy, his heart black as midnight sin, void of human emotion, filled with the devil's dark desire. This woman knew it, and now Hazelle knew it too.

             
“What can I do? There must be a spell, or an incantation, or
something
. Please, you have to help me,” Hazelle pleaded, tears making her voice crack.

             
Marguerite turned over one of the cards, cringed, and replaced it.

             
“There is no spell. No incantation. No choice,” she spoke matter-of-factly, with no sympathy, “You summoned the demon for a reason and he will not return to the underworld until that reason is fulfilled.”

             
“You mean I have to...to...”

             
Hazelle swallowed, a painful lump in her throat, unable to finish the sentence because if she did, if she said it out loud, for somebody else to hear, that it would make it seem like the only solution. Her only choice.

             
“Yes, child. Your way forward is clear. You have no choice. No second chances. No hope of salvation.”

             
Marguerite leaned forwards over the counter, her pale eyes scary and serious.

             
“You have to give him what he wants.”

 

Chapter Five

             


I told you there was no spell.”

             
“I know.”

             
“I told you there was no other way.”

             
“I know.”

             
“I told you countless times and still you did not listen.”

             

I know.

             
Hazelle whirled around frustrated and devastated, almost knocking over the pile of dry laundry she had been folding as a distraction. Kaden was leant against the opposite wall, one foot up against it, giving him all the appearance of that idle, insolent arrogance she loathed in all gorgeous men, and more so in him. She currently couldn't stand the sight of him. It was like he was immune to her emotions, to anything human, as if nothing touched him, not her anger, or her disgust, or her fear. She was already stressed from her earlier encounter with Chris and reeling from the confirmation that there was no magic to release Kaden from her services.

             
She had told him only of the later concern, not knowing how he would react to Chris, or to her past, not wanting to invoke a jealous rage in him. She knew what men were like from reading trashy magazines on her lunch break and listening to office gossip. When men thought another man was moving in on their territory they became aggressive, reverting to the territorial beasts that had once roamed the earth. Hazelle was surprised some men didn't just piss up a woman's leg to claim them and warn off other males, and though Hazelle belonged to no man she wasn't foolish enough to purposely provoke a demon.

             
Bundling up the clean bedsheets in her arms she dumped them unfolded into a basket. She could see the shadow of the pentagram on the floor, the one with which she had summoned him, the one she had hoped would play some role in sending him back. Apparently that wasn't to be.

             
She needed to get away from him and so she picked up the basket and stomped up the basement stairs. He followed on her heels, persistent, losing his patience.

             
“You can't run from me,” he drawled, “I won't disappear in a puff of black smoke like you want me to. This isn't the movies, this is real life and I'm not going anywhere until I give you what you want. So what are you going to do about it?”

             
“Nothing,” she said scathingly, dropping the basket on the breakfast bar. She fled from the kitchen as fast as she could, up the stairs and into her bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her with such force the china dolls on her dresser rattled.

             
Hazelle pressed her back against the door, trying to catch her breath, trying to calm herself and not cry like she so badly wanted to but then she heard him on the stairs, the tell-tale creak and she reacted automatically by locking the door. It was all she could do, it was only the power she had over him and it wasn't enough to keep him out, not if he truly wanted to get in. She needed solitude, time to think, time to mope.

             
“You can't avoid this forever,” his sinister voice came through the door, sounding so close, voicing the very thing she was so afraid to hear. “Sooner or later...I will have you.”

             
“Please,” she implored, closing her eyes and gritting her teeth, “Just give me tonight. One night is all I ask. I just want to be alone.”

             
“As you wish.”

             
She heard him leave, the creak of the stairs, the sound of the door opening and closing. She rushed to the window and drew back the curtain in time to see a tall, dark, menacing figure striding down the garden path with purpose, snowflakes flecking his dishevelled red hair. He didn't look back once as he crossed the road and vanished into the shadows.

             
Her shoulders sagged with relief, needing the respite, unable to bear the presence of him knowing what she knew, knowing that she had no choice but to accept him into her bed, to humour him, to surrender to him, to have sex with him or be burdened by him forever.

             
She didn't hear him return that night and retired to bed alone, her heart aching, knowing that when the dawn came her innocence might very well come with it.

             

*~*~*

 

He pressed long, lingering, bloody kisses to her breast as she squirmed beneath him, her body burning, responding to his lust as it brushed her hip, inviting his touch and begging for more with every breath. His tongue flicked out, serpent like, and lightly licked the nipple before taking it into his mouth. She sighed and he turned his attention to the other breast, teasing it with his teeth, nibbling on the nipple, his breath hot and inhuman on his skin as he stroked the other breast, leaving neither neglected for long.

             
Hazelle's vision was misty and shiny pleasure, her flesh tingling in every single place he touched her, whether it was with his fingers, his lips, his tongue or his swelling manhood. Her skin was so sensitive, to his every caress, his every kiss. He was so enthralling, so bewitching that it was impossible to look away from his luscious lips and talented tongue, from his untamed hair and enchanting dark eyes currently dilated with depraved, demonic desire. He was uncivilised, inhumane, irredeemable and she wanted him, more than she had ever wanted anything else in her entire life. Nothing else mattered in the heat of passion, when all she could concentrate on, all she could care about was his skin gliding against hers as their lips danced with such harmony it made her head spin.

             
She was lost to lust, too disorientated and dizzy with desire, helpless against the irrefutable appetite and longing she'd harboured for Kaden since she first clapped eyes on him, primed for sex and as naked as the day hell had spawned him. He was a devoted lover indulging all her fantasies, all her wishes, and she gave everything to him freely and without regret, with no walls between them, no boundaries, no secrets, no lies and no locks. There was only her and him, him and her, and she wanted him inside of her, heart, mind, body and soul. She wanted him so badly it hurt.

             
She didn't even flinch as his nails grew, developing into curved black claws that tickled her breasts. His eyes darkened more so, it that was possible, all the white was obliterated by obsidian light, and in them she saw the beast that had come scratching at her door, the brute her body begged for. He was here at last. His top lip curled up to reveal sharp teeth, fangs elongated to a length and sharpness that should have terrified her. But instead they intrigued her,
excited
her. They only made him more ethereal, more beautiful, more
hers.

             
“More,” she moaned, “More...”

             
He obliged. His talons scraped her breast, not painfully though enough to break the skin. He lapped up her blood, closing his eyes, savouring the taste. She wriggled beneath him, her blood pounding through her veins, staining his lips.

             
“Mine,” he growled, his voice distorted and inhuman, thick with bloodlust, with nothing of the Kaden she knew beyond her dreams. “Always.”

             
Something twisted sweetly in her stomach at his words, at being claimed. When he kissed her breast again she bit her lower lip, her body arching against his, her soul lost to the total, all consuming bliss of another earth-shattering, star-spangled orgasm.

 

*~*~*

 

Hazelle jerked awake, expecting to see Kaden hovering over her, his black eyes brimming with menace, his lips peeling back to reveal razor sharp teeth.

             
Instead the other half of her bed was vacant, sunlight streaming through the window and illuminating the spot where he had slept the previous two nights. She frowned, having fully and fearfully anticipated him coming to her in the night, forcing her to accept his intimate company and give herself to him so that he might be free to leave her. If he found her in the same mood she had been in during the dream then she wouldn't need much intimidating or convincing. In the dream she had been so ready for it, ready for him, teetering on the edge of perfect passion, every sweep of his tongue between her legs making her want to fall.

             
Was she falling for him? A part of her was curious about him, about his origins, about his way of life, the same way an isolated tribe in the middle of a jungle was curious when it saw white man for the first time, intrigue mingled with fear and a respect that this new and unknown creature could conquer them, could take them over completely. Did she want Kaden to conquer her?

             
In the dreams she did, there was no denying that, but she lived in the real world where demons were not supposed to exist, and if they did she was most certainly not supposed to desire one.

             
Sitting up she wiped sleep from her eyes before tiptoeing to the window. A light dusting of snow had fallen during the night and was melting quickly in the bright sunshine. She didn't see any boot prints leading up to the house. She checked the locks on her window and door, finding them both untampered with, her bedroom having apparently not been breached. There was something different about the house too, a lightness, an airiness, as if the demonic burden had been lifted, and she knew then that Kaden hadn't returned.

             
Miffed and mystified she showered and dressed quickly, trying not to dwell on the dream. Mom had already left for work so Hazelle munched on a couple of strawberry poptarts and drank coffee alone, flicking apathetically through a newspaper while wondering where Kaden was and when, or indeed if, he was coming back.

             
He had to. He didn't have a choice, just as she didn't. If he wanted to go home to hell he had to come back to her first.

             
She waited for as long as she could without being late for work. There was no sign of him. More worried than frustrated now she arrived at work just in time, clocking on a moment before Mr Thompson strolled into reception with a smile. Composing herself to make it look like she had been there for a while, and not as if she had run flat out up three flights of stairs, she approached him.

             
“Did you manage to get in touch with my mom?” Hazelle asked pleasantly, trying to keep her voice as light and unassuming as she could. She didn't want her boss to think she disapproved of his dating her mother. She honestly didn't know what she thought about it. She didn't know enough about dating and relationships to have an opinion.

             
“Yes, we made dinner reservations for tonight but I should tell you that-”

             
“Hazelle?”

             
The other receptionist's voice interrupted them. Sophie stood by the desk, grey eyes widening with surprise as she held the phone out to her.

             
“It's for you.”

             
Hazelle was as surprised as her. She never received private calls at work. Did Kaden know how to use a phone? Was he going to suck up his pride and apologise first? She knew she needed to talk to him, that neither of them could hold a grudge forever if they wanted to resolve this, though she thought he'd be able to sulk for a little longer than this.

             
“Sorry sir, I have to take this. We'll talk later.”

             
Mr Thompson gave her a nod and an uneasy smile before heading into his office and closing the door. Hazelle marched to the desk and snatched the receiver from a stunned Sophie, ready to give Kaden a piece of her mind, or a more like a whole slice.

             
“Kaden? Where are you? You can't just walk out whenever you like and except me to...”

             
She paused. She thought she'd heard a quiet growl from the other end but all she heard now was silence. It wasn't like Kaden not to have some smart-ass retort ready, especially when she was giving him a tongue lashing, completely different to the ones he had given her in her dreams.

             
She pressed the receiver closer to her ear. “Kaden?”

             
The sound of heavy breathing came down the line, hard and haggard, as if he had been running. Was he in trouble?

             
If he wasn't he was about to be.

             
“Kaden, this isn't funny...”

             
There was a laugh then, not the menacing, wicked, slightly amused laugh that Kaden used to frustrate her so much. This one was cruel, contemptuous and more than a little disturbing. The breathing was also unusual, not the sultry sighs of Kaden when he was trying to seduce her, which was most of the time.

             
She didn't need to think long on who it could be.

             
“Chris?”

BOOK: Wicked Game
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