Wicked Road to Hell Read online

  “I want everything.” His eyes were still flat, but they’d morphed into full-on black. “Every part of your body, your mind, your soul.” His fingers gripped her shoulders hard. “Do you understand? If we have but one night together, I want it all.”

  “Are you sure?” Ana’s eyes swept downward as a tingle of confusion rolled over her. What was she doing?

  He grabbed her chin and claimed her lips in a kiss that made her head spin. It was both gentle and aggressive, and she stilled when her tongue scraped over the unmistakable feel of a fanged tooth.

  She wrenched her head from him. “You’ve already been turned. Your life is no longer what it was. There will be no sunlight, no warmth on your skin . . . only darkness, and for that I’m sorry,” she managed to get out. Her chest was heaving so badly she could barely breathe. “But if you belong to me and I to you, all bets are off. You’ll be hunted till the end of days.”

  Declan’s finger traced the lines of her mouth. “Then we’ll be running together.”

  Ana saw the tips of his newly formed fangs peek through his mouth and an answering hunger erupted inside her.

  He lifted her from the bed, his mouth claiming hers once more. She tasted blood and realized he’d cut her. The scent rose in the air, mingled with the musky smell of her arousal.

  Dark thoughts crowded her brain and the world tilted precariously, the canvas turning red as her bloodlust stirred.

  His hands on her body stirred the passion inside. Liquid pooled, slid along her inner thighs, and knew that she was ready. That she ached for him to fill her completely.

  “I can’t take this, Declan.” Her voice was low, aggressive, and she nipped at him, her fangs grazing along his collarbone. He turned her body and threw her onto the bed.

  And then he was there, his long, torso covering hers. His hand slipped beneath her belly and he drew her hips into the air. She was on all fours, panting, and she growled when his mouth licked along the small of her back.

  Ana spread her legs in anticipation, moaning when his hand found its way to her heated core. He plunged long fingers inside. She was swollen, wet with need, and when his mouth hovered above her other opening, she stilled.

  He wouldn’t . . .

  He blew upon her, a warm breath that sent tingles racing across her flesh. She felt pressure there and stilled as he began to massage, to play and tease.

  Erotic sensations attacked her from every angle. He nuzzled, nipped her flesh, while both of his hands worked her into a frenzied mess.

  The fingers between her legs, inside her slickness, began to pulse. His energy sizzled, erupting along her channel and spreading fire in their wake. Her nerves were already raw and her muscles bunched as an orgasm ripped through her. The release was immediate and she cried out.

  “Sweet Jesus, what the hell are you doing to me?”

  Her knees nearly buckled and she heard him laugh softly.

  “Jesus has nothing to do with it.” Several shots of energy fell from his fingers once more and she bit her tongue, eating the groan that sat at the back of her throat. Declan bent lower and his breath caressed the side of her neck. When he spoke, his voice blurred, as if amplified. He was so close to the edge and she was right there with him. “Once you’ve had a man of magick, there is nothing else.”

  His hardness rested against her and she knew he was near the edge.

  Silence filled the room. The only sound she could hear was her ragged breaths. She throbbed, everywhere, and her fangs ached as she rolled her head. He kissed his way down her back once more, his hands gripping her hips tightly. The edge of his cock teased the slick center between her legs and she gritted her teeth in anticipation.

  She stopped breathing, frozen with a need so raw, it was painful. “Now, Declan, don’t make me beg.”

  The long, hard length of him slid inside her. Her walls stretched, gripping him tightly as he started to move slowly. It was torture, the way he held her and withdrew, taking his time before plunging inside once more.

  “Ah, Ana, you wreck me like nothing before.” She felt his heated skin, heard the slap of flesh against flesh, and reveled in the hardness that scraped every nerve inside her, leaving exquisite shots of pleasure in its wake.

  Her hips answered in kind and they rocked together, two bodies melting into one. As Declan increased the rhythm, his strokes bolder, harder, the pressure built down below and small guttural sounds fell from her lips as another crest threatened to spill.

  Ana arched her back and pushed upward, loving his touch as Declan’s hands fled her hips, and gripped her breasts to hold her in place.

  “I’ve never felt this before.” His voice was rough, soaked in passion.

  Declan’s words trailed into silence but Ana paid no heed. Her eyes were now bloodred and she hissed as the burning desire inside of her thrummed against her soul, tore at her heart.

  She heard him swear, cried out as he pounded into her flesh, and when he leaned into her, when their bodies reached that perfect plateau, his teeth scraped along her shoulder, grazing the curve of her neck.

  There was no coherent thought. Only the need to connect, to bond. To feed.

  “Now, Declan!” she shouted his name and began to mew as her orgasm ripped through her. When he broke skin, the pain was exquisite, intense. As he began to feed from her, to draw her essence into his body, her insides liquefied.

  His cock expanded, filling her tightness to the max, and he roared loudly, releasing his passion as he drew her blood into his mouth.

  Together they rocked, bodies still joined, and Ana brushed her mouth against his hand. She licked his wrist, hissed, and then plunged her fangs into his warmth.

  Her mind exploded. His taste, his emotions, his soul—all of it combined to create the perfect storm of need and desire.

  She wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, their bodies joined together, their minds and hearts now bonded. She only knew that for the first time in her life, she felt complete. Satiated.

  Carefully Declan withdrew, but his arms never left her. Slowly he turned her and for a few moments she couldn’t look up at him. She was too afraid there’d be regret in his eyes.

  Gently his fingers slid along her jaw and eventually she gathered enough courage to gaze up at him.

  She saw drops of her blood against his skin and wiped them away. He didn’t say a word, just stared at her.

  “Declan, I . . .”

  His finger closed her mouth and he pulled her into his embrace. Slowly they sank into the mattress and she smiled tremulously into the darkness.

  “I love you, Ana.” His mouth was at her ear and she shuddered against his breath. “Remember that.”

  A tingle of energy slipped over her, an awareness that all was not right. She kicked her legs and would have bolted, but his hands were sliding across her forehead. The world tilted, for just a second.

  And then sleep claimed her.

  How long she was under the spell of Sandman wasn’t clear. But when Ana finally dragged her mind from the clutches of darkness, one thing was apparent.

  Declan was gone.

  Son of a bitch!

  She flew to the door but was repelled backward as electric energy erupted up her fingers, singeing her flesh.

  Ana cursed loudly, several times over, and stood mouth tight, eyes grim. What was he thinking? He needed her help.

  Declan O’Hara was a fool if he thought to keep her contained. They were now bonded, for better or worse, and he obviously didn’t know how deep those strings pulled.

  She quickly gathered her clothes, her mind working feverishly, because she would find her way out. There would be hell to pay.

  She clenched her hands together, considering where they were . . . How fucking appropriate.

  Chapter 22

  Club Doom was as frenetic and wild as it had been several hours earlier when Declan had first arrived in Hell.

  He shoved his way to the bar, ordered a shot, and tossed it back, welcoming
the burn as the blood red liquid slid down his throat. His senses were hyper, his body tingled, and a weird sensation settled inside him. It was the blood. Ana’s blood.

  His heart sped up at the thought of her. What they’d just shared was indescribable. It wasn’t just the sex. It was something much deeper. Ana DeLacrux belonged to him. She existed inside him.

  He clenched his teeth tightly. He would do whatever it took to make sure they both made it out of the Hell realm with the children in tow. A smile tugged at his mouth. She was gonna be pissed when the sleep charm wore off. But she’d be safe.

  In the meantime he needed to track down a certain demon.

  “Back already?”

  Declan tensed, cleared all emotion from his mind, and turned. The blond demon from hours earlier stared at him, an elegant eyebrow arched in question.

  He smiled. “You complaining?”

  She slid beside him. “No, not at all.” Her nostrils flared and his gut tightened as her eyes narrowed. “I can smell her on you. She’s different, that one. I can’t put my finger on it but—”

  Declan cut in before she could continue and hoped like hell the panic he felt was invisible. “I’m looking for someone.”

  “And I’m guessing that someone isn’t me?” She pouted.

  “No.” He nodded to the crowd behind her. “A demon by the name of Seth. I’ve been told he hangs here.” The name was one he’d become familiar with during his forced stay in District Three. He knew that Lilith had no love for the demon and figured the feeling was mutual. Getting into District Three was nearly impossible, unless invited or thrown down.

  He needed a way in. Like yesterday. Maybe Seth could provide access.

  The demon’s fingers stilled and wariness crept into her eyes. “What do you want with Seth?”

  Declan smiled. “That’s my business. Can you point me in the right direction or no?”

  The demon chewed her lip, her eyes narrowed, and the smile that fell across her plump lips told Declan things were not going to be as easy as he’d like.

  She ordered two drinks and shoved another into his hands. “I suppose that depends.” She licked her lips and finished the drink in one gulp.

  Declan nodded, tossed his glass back and stared down at her. “On what?”

  Her hand was on his forearm before he could move, her hip pressed hard against his crotch. “On what’s in it for me.” Her breath was warm against his cheek and her razor-sharp teeth scraped along his mouth.

  His anger flared and he grabbed her wrist tightly. He grinned at her even as he spread fire along her flesh and lowered his mouth until it was inches from her ear.

  “If you know where Seth is, I’d appreciate the information.” He relaxed his grip slightly. “As for payment”—Declan’s eyes went black—“I’ll let you leave with your head still attached to your body.”

  She wrenched her hand from his and took a step back. “You’re a piece of shit, asshole,” she said angrily.

  “I’ve been called worse.”

  She glared at him, licked her lips slowly as a tall demon with an impressive physique sidled up beside her, intent on getting to the bar. Her gaze shifted. In the background the music continued to pound, a heavy beat that thrummed loudly in his chest.

  Declan’s muscles were bunched into all sorts of tension. The need to move, to get things done had him sweaty and jumpy.

  “When Seth is around he’s holed up three blocks over. A nice little area of town called the Dunes, though it’s the critters that hide in the shadows you need to be wary of.”

  She turned and grabbed the demon between the legs, before pushing the male back into the darkness that skirted the corners of the bar.

  Declan watched them melt from view, turned to the madness that was Club Doom, and slipped through the crowd. Hundreds of bodies writhed and moaned, high on the dark undercurrent that slithered along the ground, fueled by demon drink and whatever nasty-ass shit was being sold in the corners.

  And yet this was fucking paradise compared to where he was headed. Declan exited the club, inhaled the cool, wet air, and pulled the collar of his jacket up around his ears. He chanced a glance toward the tall clock tower. It was barely visible amidst the ever-swirling fog.

  For the moment Ana was safe; it was up to him to finish the job and get her out. He peered into the darkness. The dunes. A shudder rushed over his flesh.

  He disappeared into the shadows and missed the tall form that slipped into view.

  Samael unclenched his hands and frowned. He stared into the back alley that Declan had just traversed. He itched to follow. To make sure things got done.

  Instead he reached for the door and entered Club Doom, which in fact was his. It wasn’t as quaint as the Grease Pit, there were no orders of poutine available, or humans to play with, but it did provide an endless bounty of darkness. And a good demon needed a certain amount of crap in his diet.

  He paused, swept the dark aviators from his face, and took in the scene before him. It was full of every kind of demon imaginable and anything in between. Shades, vampires, shifters . . . anyone or anything sentenced to the fringes of Hell. His tall form moved with the grace of a much smaller being and he was aware of the interest he created, of the eyes that followed him.

  And then slid away to avoid contact.

  They were afraid of him. Of the power he represented. And they should be. Samael was a grand duke, a demon lord who commanded an impressive army of over one thousand legions of doom.

  He made his way to the bar and tossed his leather coat at Jim, the bartender. The red demon had his favorite brew ready and he grabbed it, took a long swig, and leaned toward his trusted employee.

  Time to test the waters, see if Declan was on track.

  “Anything interesting happen while I was gone?” His voice was light, inquisitive.

  Jim tapped a keg. “Not really. Some crap dude who crawled up from District Three pissed Tasha off, but that’s about it.”

  Samael sniffed the air and turned to the right. The shadows were particularly strong there but he knew bodies hid amongst them. He finished his beer, wiped his mouth, and turned.

  “Pour me another. I’ll be right back.”

  A shade passed in front of him, its ghostly smile etched in a permanent macabre greeting. He ignored it, pushed through it, in fact, and quickly made his way toward the shadows.

  He let the darkness cover him, inhaled the magic of its scent as he felt its coolness caress his face. He saw them. Tasha’s body pressed tight between the legs of a massive demon—green skin, brainless, and no doubt well hung—an apt plaything for her.

  He watched them for several seconds as their bodies rocked in a raw, frenetic dance. He enjoyed their base display of the sex act and just when victory would have been theirs, when she moaned on the cusp of orgasm, he cleared his throat. The demon snarled, its eyes glowing a fiery red as it turned its massive head his way. The tongue that darted out fell limp, lolling to the side as it panted and moaned in an almost painful fashion.

  Immediately it pushed Tasha from its body. “Sorry to offend, master, I had no idea she was yours.”

  “What the—” Tasha whirled around, breasts hanging freely, mouth pulled back in a menacing growl. The surprise on her face fled quickly as she stepped away from the demon and bowed her head. “Samael.”

  He nodded toward the demon and watched, amused at the speed the beast gained in its attempt to get away from him. He then turned to Tasha.

  “I hear someone from District Three is trolling my club,” Samael said lightly.

  Tasha made a face, her fingers twirling around the hard nipples of her exposed breasts. It was a nervous gesture and one he would forgive. He could, after all, end her with the flick of his wrist.

  She nodded, swallowed, and met his eyes. Score one for the demon whore. It was more than most of the patrons in his club could muster.

  “I didn’t get his name, but he’s looking for, uh . . . Seth.”

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nbsp; Samael’s face remained blank and he said not a word, but turned toward the bar. Good. O’Hara was headed in the right direction. Seth would be able to provide a way to the District Three without Samael’s interference. The less he was involved, the better.

  “He had a woman here, too. Not sure about her.” Tasha spoke quickly, and Samael paused, but didn’t turn back.

  “A woman? Another visitor from District Three?”

  “I don’t think so. The smell from below didn’t cling to her, to him, either, now that I think of it.”

  Samael whirled around, his hands clutching the demon’s head tight. He stared down into her wide, terrified eyes and smiled as he massaged her skull. “This won’t hurt,” he murmured, “too much.”

  She moaned and shook as his fingers fed from the images in her mind. When he was done he settled her onto the low-slung bench and left her to the shadows.

  Tasha wouldn’t remember Declan or the green demon she’d been riding. His face was grim as he grabbed his beer from Jim and headed outside. She definitely wouldn’t remember the vampire, Ana DeLacrux.

  Samael walked with slow, precise steps through the darkened streets of District One. A storm had just blown in, he’d rode the tail end of it as he’d ascended from the human realm, and another threatened on the horizon. Such was the way of it here.

  He exhaled twin shots of mist as the warm air from his body mingled with the cold. Shrewdly his gaze swept the street. Declan would have stashed the vampire close by. He knew the sorcerer was attached to the woman. He’d made it a point to know everything about the man.

  He snorted as he cut through the thick gloom. Feelings were for the weak.

  Ahead he spied the watchtower and without breaking stride, turned toward it. His long legs ate up the distance in no time and he shook the excess moisture from his thick hair as he walked toward the front desk of the ramshackle hotel adjacent to the tower.

  The Soul Sucker was a dump, as was ninety-five percent of District One, but he paid no heed to his surroundings. What did he care? His palatial estate was nothing like these ruins.