Wicked Road to Hell Read online

  “Two nights ago I still had possession of the other two.” Samael shook his head. “The game has changed. I no longer have them.”

  “How the hell did that bitch get her hands on them? Are they still alive?” Declan was breathing hard, his anger palpable.

  “The details aren’t important, but trust me. They live. They’re no good to her dead.” Samael’s brows furled and his mouth tightened. “I will do whatever it takes to make sure Lilith never gets her hands on the mark of seven.”

  “Just as the Seraphim can never have them,” Cale added.

  Samael nodded. “Seems we are on the same page, brother.” The demon turned to Declan. “Believe what you will but know you have until tomorrow evening to give me your answer.”

  “Or what?” Declan asked, his voice tight. “I don’t like being pushed into a corner.” And yet it was so much more than that. The thought of diving into the pit of darkness below, of seeing Lilith again, filled him with dread. No one knew of his torture at her hands, though he suspected Samael had an idea.

  The demon shrugged his shoulders and moved away. The air around him blurred and his image wavered until he disappeared altogether, yet his words echoed inside Declan’s head.

  “Do this, sorcerer, or I will kill the children and make it my mission to hunt down the rest until they are no more.” Soft laughter echoed eerily in his brain.

  “And then I will take your vampire.”

  Chapter 13

  It was hours later when he returned. Ana knew the moment Declan stepped foot inside her home because the energy in the air shifted. She drew a deep breath and rose from the kitchen table.

  She and Nico had made it back to the mansion without incident, but as the night wore on and Declan remained absent, she’d begun to worry. It had taken every ounce of control she had to stay and not rush back to the Lounge. But with Kaden to watch over and the woman Francesca as well, she knew she needed to be vigilant and stay put.

  Declan was one of the Seraph now as well as a powerful sorcerer. He could look after himself. Yet her mind ran through all sorts of scenarios, each of them ending with her sorcerer dead or gravely injured.

  It had been years since she’d worried so, and anger pinched her cheeks red as she listened to his slow gait. He walked as if he had all the time in the world. Not a care to bother him. He paused, just beyond the doorway, and for a second she thought he’d turn and leave her.

  She bit her lip and considered slipping out the back. Did she really want to face him when she was a vulnerable mess? On one hand she wanted to bitch slap him for worrying her, but on the other . . . she didn’t want to dwell on the things she craved.

  Ana knew she’d be better off alone in her room or out hunting. Even now the hunger inside was making noise. She’d ingested nearly a decanter and a half of blood and yet it did nothing to quench her thirst.

  With Declan back she could breathe easier. He would keep her charges safe. Decision made, she was at the door in less than a second, her hand on the knob.

  “Don’t leave.”

  He sounded weary. She stared out into the darkness beyond the windowpane. It had rained again. She smelled the dampness of it, saw the glistening drops that clung to his hair and sat upon his skin as she gazed at his reflection.

  An image of her tongue slowly licking them away flashed before her eyes and her mouth went dry.

  Ana heard his heart beating steadily. The rhythm called to her like no other and she shuddered as she closed her eyes and prayed for strength.

  “I need to hunt,” she said carefully. “I’ve been waiting for hours.” Accusation rang in her words. Her hand closed around the doorknob once more and she was about to yank it open when he spoke, so softly she barely heard his words.

  “Don’t go.”

  Ana stared down at her feet, afraid to glance into the window and see his face. She didn’t know what the hell was going on. What had changed?

  The room became a vacuum, as if everything had been sucked into a void leaving only the two of them and the slow ticking of the clock. Each second that passed by sounded loudly in her ear. Tick tock, tick tock.

  Her fingers gripped the knob and she twisted it. “I can’t stay. I need . . .” She gave a mental shake as once more she envisioned her mouth upon his flesh. “I need something you can’t give me.”

  He was there, just behind her.

  “Don’t go,” he whispered again. His voice was rough and there was a new depth to it that sent shivers rushing across her skin.

  Ana stared at her hands. Her knuckles were white, a testament to how tightly she gripped the handle, and she relaxed her hold a bit. Slowly her gaze rose until she once more stared out into the darkness beyond. The moon was incognito, fog was a constant, and everything glistened with a wet sheen.

  If she was smart she’d disappear into the velvet blackness and forget about Declan O’Hara.

  Don’t do it. The whisper slid through her mind even as her gaze traveled upward. She met his eyes in the reflected glass. It was like a physical touch and she licked her lips nervously as he moved closer still.

  The heat of him was at her back and she dragged a long, torturous breath into her lungs.

  His hands fell to her shoulders and she let him turn her body until she faced him fully. Ana stared up into his dark eyes, and it felt like everything inside her was falling away. She couldn’t describe it any other way.

  He was beautiful and her hand reached for his cheek. She frowned as he rested into her palm. There was pain, deep within the recesses of his eyes.

  Declan had always been so adept at hiding his true self that to catch a glimpse of something real was somehow sacred. It scared her. She let her gaze fall, suddenly uncomfortable. She didn’t want to see into his soul. That was much too intimate, something they could never be.

  Intimate.

  “What happened?” she whispered.

  “Shhh,” he answered. “No words.”

  Ana shuddered at the intensity within him. He seemed lost somehow. “What is this, Declan?” she asked, glancing up.

  His eyes never left hers and for a moment there was silence. She sensed his struggle and fought the urge to clasp him to her breast, to hold him tight.

  His hand crept up until he cradled hers within his large grasp, and he held her firm against his cheek. She felt the rough stubble on his skin and her eyes drifted away from his, traveling over the planes of his face before settling on his lips.

  Her breaths fell faster as she eyed his mouth. So strong and firm.

  Ana looked away. Her control was thin at best.

  His arms slid around her waist and Declan pulled her flush against his body. Her first instinct was to resist but something held her still. Was it his need?

  Or her own?

  She felt every inch of his hard frame and as she laid her head upon his chest, the beat of his heart called to her.

  “This,” he whispered into her hair, “this is what I need.”

  Ana exhaled slowly and relaxed a bit. She listened to his even breaths and relished the warmth of his skin. She bit her lip when he lowered his head, and as he nuzzled the hollow between her neck and shoulder, she couldn’t help the groan that escaped.

  “Declan, I don’t—”

  “Shhh,” he interrupted. “No words. I just need to feel something real tonight, nothing more.” His lips brushed along her neck once more. “I want to hold you.”

  Declan straightened and arched away, his dark eyes piercing as he stared down at her. “Let me hold you.”

  Ana’s breath hitched. Shadows played across his face and when he bent low she froze. The need that sat in the pit of her belly burned hard. The tips of her fangs broke skin, and sweat beaded along her forehead.

  If he kissed her now there was no telling what she’d do. She ached for the taste of his blood, for the touch of his soul.

  She should turn away.

  If she was a good girl she would, but Ana remained still, her body g
ripped with the seductive pull of bloodlust. His hands slowly spread across her lower back, and without warning he hoisted her into his arms.

  He paused and hugged her to him as if she were breakable. The gentle rise and fall of his chest rocked her, and inside, buried deep within her soul, she heard a cry. It was a sad lament for what would never be.

  And in spite of the fact that it was all kinds of wrong, Ana ignored the cry and the urge to break from him. Instead her arms clung to his shoulders and she relaxed against his body as he carried her from the kitchen.

  Swiftly his long legs strode down the hall and he took the stairs two at a time, showing no effort as he climbed yet again to the next level. Declan walked with purpose toward the end of the landing, as if he knew where her lair was. He waved his hand and the door opened, allowing him passage into her secret world.

  One she’d not shared with anyone since Jean-Charles.

  The loft was large and bare of furniture. It smelled of paint, oils and canvas. There were a few rugs tossed about the wood floor, a large cupboard to the right, and several paintings hidden in the far corner. An easel stood with a clean canvas resting upon it.

  Underneath the tall window was her bed and it was there that Declan stopped. Gently he lowered her onto her back, his hands quickly removing her boots before he did the same to his own.

  Ana turned onto her side, her mind a whirl of confusion. There’d been no words between them, no talk of what the night would bring.

  She should order him to leave. If she was stronger she would.

  Instead, Ana watched the shadows on the wall disappear as Declan closed the wooden shutters that dressed the window. And then the bed sank as he slipped behind her, his arms going around her midsection to pull her in tight to him once more.

  She reveled in the warmth of his breath and the safeness of his embrace. Her small body tucked into the curve of his as if it was meant to be. How many times had she visualized this very thing? It was heartbreakingly perfect. Heartbreakingly wrong. The words whispered around the corners of her mind, bringing with it fear and the fury of her hunger.

  It was the hunger that scared her more than anything. She knew in that moment that her thirst would plague her until the end of her days. He was the only one to quench it.

  Declan’s arms tightened as if he knew she was about to bolt. “Just one night. That’s all I ask.”

  Ana frowned. He sounded different. Troubled. Something was off.

  “What happened tonight?” she whispered.

  A long silence followed her question and his breathing slowed. Declan held her so gently, his head nestled into the crook of her neck, that after several moments she thought maybe he’d not heard her.

  “Declan?” she whispered, not understanding any of this. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  After a few moments he spoke. “Fate,” he said simply.

  “What?” She tried to turn, to look into his eyes, but he held tight. Declan was definitely hiding something.

  “Fate happened tonight.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “No more words,” he murmured, “just let me hold you.”

  So many questions crowded her mind, yet Ana remained silent. She would honor his wish and leave it alone—for now.

  She tried to relax but her hunger was biting. It clawed at her something fierce. She stared into the darkness and thought about puppies and rainbows. Eventually the hunger abated.

  Ana closed her eyes, settled into his embrace, determined to enjoy this moment for what it was, a slice of Heaven that would end as soon as the sun rose.

  Declan woke abruptly and was immediately aware of the fact that he held Ana tight to his body. She felt amazing in his arms and he groaned softly as he shifted. Her small form fit perfectly against him, her ass especially exquisite, and his cock swelled at the thought.

  She was asleep. The gentle rise and fall of her chest, the way her head lay to the side leaving her neck exposed and vulnerable, told him so. His arms tightened and he lowered his face, drank in the scent of her as his mouth graced the pale skin along her neck.

  If he could stay like this and never let her go, he’d die a happy man. Yet Declan felt the weight of his cold, hard reality. It was heavy. It sucked. He was going back in.

  Back to Hell.

  There’d never been a question he wouldn’t accept the gauntlet thrown by Samael. How could he not? There was no other who stood half a chance of getting to the children. Cale was unacceptable. His light was too pure, his link to the Seraphim too strong. He’d be outed before he got anywhere near the children.

  He’d not fed from the darkness as Declan had.

  Declan felt it—Lilith’s cold, seductive power circling through his veins. It was a craving and it ate at him constantly. When Declan had first broken free from the underworld it had been bad. He’d been like a junkie jonesing for his next fix. Yet he’d struggled through, thinking that once he’d accomplished the mission, returned Azaiel to the Seraphim, it would be over. Bill would return the damaged half of his soul and all would be well.

  What a joke that had been. His soul had been restored but the hunger for something more, something dark, was always with him. Turned out, he was as bad a seed as his father, Cormac. Maybe worse.

  He was a warrior of the light, a Seraph, and served a higher order, but his soul was stained and perhaps beyond cleansing.

  Fucking Lilith.

  She’d gone after him like a bitch in heat the moment he’d arrived in Hell and pounced upon his weakness, his desire to be free. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but Declan knew in the end, there was no one to blame but himself.

  He sighed and shifted once more as his thoughts turned to the woman he held. She was so small, fragile almost, and yet he knew how fierce she was. He loved that about her, the contradiction.

  “Do you know how much I want you?” he whispered. “How much I regret the things that will never be?” Was it only a few nights earlier he’d envisioned a future with Ana at his side?

  Fate was a bitch and for him her name was Lilith. He had to face the fact that his chances of escaping her clutches a second time were not great.

  Declan smiled wryly as he cradled Ana to him. He knew she desired him. That had been plenty obvious when he’d kissed her a few nights back. Christ, but he wanted more, and yet just holding her was almost enough. The demons inside were at rest.

  The sound of her breaths lulled him momentarily and he glanced at the awakening shadows that licked along the edges of the wall. Outside the moon had given way to the first rays of sunlight. Though he’d closed the shutters hours earlier, brightness still found its way in.

  The loft was large and he found his gaze centered on several large canvases that were seemingly tossed into the far corner. An easel and paint supplies were scattered along the floor.

  Ana was an artist. That was something he’d not known.

  Declan glanced down at her and shook his head. There was much about her that remained a mystery. If only he had more time. If only she’d let him in.

  He grabbed an errant strand of auburn hair that lay against her pale cheek. Slowly he twisted it around his finger and then bent low, inhaling the richness of her scent. God damn but the woman smelled like every fantasy he’d ever had. She was exquisite spice and her hair was like silken sheets of sin.

  She moaned softly and he froze. There was no way he was ruining this moment. Declan knew that as soon as she woke she’d bolt. He considered using a charm to keep her lulled into sleep, but dismissed the thought just as fast.

  She’d kick his ass if he ever attempted something like that.

  His gaze fell to the soft swell of her cheek, the full lips, and the small chin. She moved and he could not help the groan that escaped as her butt settled deeper into his body. Her softness was pressed tight to his aching cock, and Declan tried to shift once more, but it was no use.

  Jesus fucking hell. This was not good.

  His a
rms tightened around her and his hand fell to her small breasts. He felt her nipples beneath the cotton. They were hard, puckered. His thumb massaged the hardened peaks with a controlled precision that belied the madness inside him.

  Her softness swelled beneath his touch. She sighed and turned slightly, snuggling into the crook of his arms even more. Her long lashes swept downward but the eyes remained closed, her breaths even.

  With regret he withdrew his hand. Who the hell was he kidding? Nothing good could come of this, and what was the point in torturing himself with something he’d never be able to claim?

  Declan fell back against the pillow instead, taking Ana along with him so that she lay on top of his chest, her cheek turned toward his shoulder.

  “But this feels so right,” he whispered.

  The shadows on the wall now mingled with streams of light. They caught his gaze and mesmerized him, lulling him into a sense of peace he knew was false.

  “I’ll take it,” he murmured to himself, even if it was only a taste. He closed his eyes and relaxed, content to just be with Ana.

  Outside, the clatter of a bike chain echoed sharply and the methodical thwack of newspapers hitting pavement could be heard. Down the way the neighbor’s sprinkler system engaged and a dog barked as it was let outside.

  The humans that dwelled in the Big Easy had no fucking clue what lived beyond their vision. No idea that the struggle between darkness and light was a constant battle and if he lost, the consequence would be deadly.

  A sliver of energy rippled over his flesh and pulled Declan from his thoughts. He stilled, letting the quiet wash over him as he listened. Ana’s breathing had changed. She was awake.

  She moved against him, slowly, sensually. The exquisite feel was torture and he hissed as she wiggled and pulled herself upward, along his torso. His eyes slid open and he stared up into her face.

  The expression that graced her features was unlike any he’d seen before. Her eyes were round balls of navy and hung huge in her pale face. The skin of her cheeks was tight and her lips held the barest hint of pink to them. Slowly his gaze moved lower until they rested upon the fangs that glistened in the early gloom.