Wicked Road to Hell Page 3

  At his refusal to leave her fangs slid out and she rushed forward, her body moving at a preternatural speed that most wouldn’t be able to evade.

  Except Declan O’Hara wasn’t like most others. He was fast and she felt the heat of his power slide by, barely missing her left shoulder.

  “Motherfu—” she yelped as another energy blast flew past, this time searing her flesh.

  A grimace slid over her face. Things were going to get ugly.

  She flipped in the air and landed just behind him, whirling around, and her hand jerked out as she shot a quick jab at his lower back. When in doubt, aim for a kidney.

  Declan swore as she made contact and stumbled forward, but then recovered and kicked out to the side, his booted foot colliding with her midsection and sending her flying backward.

  She heard him curse a string of foulness and rolled to the side as she went down, barely avoiding another energy blast.

  She was up in an instant and stared at Declan, chest heaving, feeling strangely exhilarated at this dance. Her tongue ran along the edges of her fangs and she arched a brow. “What happened to never hitting a lady?”

  “I don’t see a lady anywhere. Only a vampire ramped up on crazy.” Declan’s eyes narrowed into twin slits of darkness and she saw the way the air around him shimmered. He’d been different two years ago, when he’d come back from Hell. She knew then he’d fed from a dark power. One that had changed him.

  It made his blood all the more intoxicating. He was otherworld—his blood was naturally infused with heavy magick—but coupled with the darkness from below, it must be potent. Her mouth watered at the thought.

  He smiled at her though his eyes remained flat. He cocked his head to the side. “Are you going to tell me who or what the hell you are?”

  Ana snarled and shook her head, waiting for the perfect moment, and then she sprang forward, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as she took him down, hard.

  They rolled together, his body pinned tight to hers, and she grunted loudly as her head connected with the iron fence that bordered her home. She felt his hand against her stomach while the other went for her throat.

  Declan’s fingers burned hot—the energy licked her skin and the pain that radiated out from them was substantial. That—the pain—she could handle, but having him so close, feeling his flesh against hers, brought up all sorts of stuff she didn’t have time to deal with.

  The smell of his blood drove her insane. It had been one of the reasons she’d always kept her distance from Declan.

  In her three hundred years no one—human, vampire, or otherworld—had awoken such longing, such need.

  She’d known instinctively that he was the one man who could break her—the one she could love. But he wasn’t vampire. It was forbidden.

  “Who the hell are you?” he asked once more.

  “Why are you here?” she countered. “Who sent you?” She needed to keep him off balance.

  Declan was breathing hard and nudged his knee between her legs as he leaned toward her. Energy flowed from his fingers and rolled over her skin. She smelled the heavy magick that clung to him and heard the blood rushing through his veins.

  God, it was sweet, tantalizing.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to see the steady pulse at the base of his neck. And yet she immediately envisioned her lips against him, her teeth breaking skin, and her tongue lapping at the sweet nectar below his flesh.

  Declan called to her basest nature, and her fangs throbbed painfully. Her eyes flew open and her gaze traveled over his handsome face. The dark eyes, square jaw, and full lips hadn’t changed at all.

  She needed to be away from him. He was a distraction she couldn’t afford.

  His hand tightened around her throat, just enough to cause pain. “Why did the boy call you Ana? She’s dead.”

  She glared up at him, opened her mouth, but couldn’t answer until he relieved the pressure. Slowly her fangs receded and she hissed, “Are you that dense, Declan? Did Hell fry your brains? Bill not doling out enough vitamins or what?”

  His grip loosened for just a second and she grabbed the opportunity. Ana head butted him, hard, and brought her knees up sharply, smiling as she connected solidly between his legs.

  Declan cursed and she kicked out once more, rolling to the side, and was up on her feet facing him in less than a second.

  He glared at her as she continued to smile. “It’s not possible.” He spat.

  “Really?” Ana was annoyed. “After everything you’ve been through, you would question the fact that I’m not rotting beneath the ground?” How could he not know she was the real deal? “You spent six months in the Hell realm and came back. Why do you find it so hard to believe that I managed my own miracle?”

  Long moments of silence passed between the two of them.

  His eyes were like liquid licorice. She’d always loved that.

  “How are you alive?” he asked. She could tell he was wavering, on the cusp of belief.

  Ana clenched her hands as she wondered how much to share.

  “Freaky mojo, I suppose.” She stared up at her home and her lips thinned as she spied Kaden watching from the upper level. “We’re all players in a game much bigger than either of us can imagine. I was presented with an offer, life and servitude to a new master, or eternal death.”

  Ana turned back to Declan. “I chose life.” She shrugged. “Well, my version of it anyway.”

  Declan moved toward her until he stood so close his warm breath touched her face. He stared down at her, and when his hand rose in the air she tensed. Not because she was afraid he’d hurt her—that would be easy to deal with. Physical pain at its most basic level was one-dimensional.

  It was the other, the emotional pain that was hard to live with. It fragmented and grew until it became a monster. Hell, she’d done her best to avoid it for decades.

  And yet as she stared up at him, her gut clenched tightly, she wondered if it would be worth it. To have the one thing she’d desired for so long . . . if only for this one moment.

  His hand hovered, a whisper away from her cheek, and Ana’s breath caught in the back of her throat. Her mouth went dry as her gaze focused on his lips.

  It had been so long since she’d been touched. Her last lover, Diego, had died fifteen years earlier. There’d been no one since. What was the point?

  If only his scent wasn’t so enticing. So far she’d been playing nice. Declan had no clue of the strength that lay beneath her small frame.

  Ana groaned softly. She could do it. Take a drink.

  Would that be so bad?

  His eyes dilated until they were huge, round balls of ebony. He bent lower, so low that she could have opened her mouth and touched him with her tongue.

  She felt that moment come, and God help her, her mouth parted slightly as desire flooded her, hot and heavy. His hands slid around her neck once more and she didn’t care. They dug into the thickness of her hair, anchoring her body so that she couldn’t move.

  And then the warmth of his breath was on her lips.

  “How the hell do you know Bill?” Each word was pronounced slowly, carefully.

  Her eyes flew open. Shit. She’d fucked up. All desire fled until she was empty once more, and she gazed upon eyes that looked down at her with distrust and contempt.

  Her lips tightened. “I don’t—”

  “Bullshit,” he interrupted. “You mentioned him earlier and I’m guessing your Bill stands about five feet fuck all, with a gut as round as a basketball and a shiny bald head to match.” He pushed away from her, and the ground began to tremble. “Does the sun shine out of his ass if he turns the right way?”

  Ana opened her mouth to retort, but the ridiculous image Declan had just painted was so bang-on, she fought a hysterical giggle instead.

  “Never mind.” Declan hopped over the fence before she could stop him. “I know someone who will answer my questions. If he refuses I have no problem making him.”<
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  Fear sliced through her and Ana sprang after him, her body flying past his in a blur until she stood between Declan and the door.

  Kaden was just a boy—no match for a sorcerer with Declan’s power.

  “You will not touch him.” She could barely get the words out, so great were her fear and anger. There was no way she’d let the Seraphim get hold of Kaden. She’d given her word that she’d keep him safe. “Do you not know what he is?” she asked, exasperated.

  “Should I?” he retorted angrily, his eyes wavering from hers to drift upward. “Seems to me I don’t know shit.” He glared at her. “I watched you die two years ago. In my mind I buried you.”

  She watched him closely. Saw the myriad of emotions that crossed his face. His beautiful dark eyes flattened as his anger increased.

  “Looks like I got that all wrong.” Declan sounded bitter, and she winced.

  Ana had a hard decision to make. Bill had entrusted Kaden’s safety to her. She’d been his dirty little secret for the last two years, running covert missions Bill wanted no one to know about.

  He was one of the Seraphim and they were hard-core. They believed the end always justified the means. In the constant war between good and evil they were willing to spill the blood of innocents if they thought it would further their own agenda.

  Bill saw things a little differently. He knew the end didn’t always justify the means, and though he wasn’t always honest with her—he doled out information on a need-to-know basis . . . his need to know—Ana knew his cause was noble and in this instance he had her abject allegiance.

  Ana would die protecting Kaden. In the space of six months the boy had come to mean everything to her. He was so like O’Hara it was eerie, and she supposed on some level, the teenager represented all that she would never have. A child . . . a family.

  She exhaled slowly and rubbed her temple. What to do? The arrival of the ghouls this night told her that she was on borrowed time. Samael wouldn’t be far behind—the damn demon lord had been dogging her every move for weeks now—and with the Seraphim finally showing interest things were going to get ugly.

  Both Heaven and Hell were gunning for Kaden.

  Right now Declan O’Hara was her enemy. He’d been sent by the Seraphim to retrieve the boy. It was obvious he had no clue who the hell he was hunting. She supposed she could thank Bill for giving him such vague orders.

  She gazed up at the sorcerer. Would he try to take Kaden if he knew the truth?

  “Come.” She opened the door and stepped aside, her gaze wandering the quiet streets. The bats that protected her boundaries had made quick work of any remnants left in the street. It was clean of debris.

  The night was quiet, serene even, as if nothing out of the ordinary had transpired. She thought of the humans tucked away in their beds, blissfully unaware of the drama that was unfolding. The world that should stay hidden was suddenly spilling into the human realm once more. Sooner or later they’d find out that their nightmares were true.

  That monsters such as herself really existed.

  “We need to talk,” she said quietly, and held her breath as Declan’s eyes narrowed.

  He hesitated, ran his hands through the thick waves that hung over his left eye, and then walked past her without a word.

  He moved with a grace that was sinful, his tall frame shrinking her world as she closed the door behind him. Declan’s fists were clenched at his side, humming with dark energy.

  He didn’t trust her, and she supposed there was no reason for him to.

  A soft creak drew her eyes upward. Kaden stood at the top of the stairs, his hand on the railing, about to take another step.

  “Give us a few minutes.” She knew he was going to protest—saw him square his shoulders. She raised an eyebrow and it was enough. Kaden shot an aggressive look toward Declan and then disappeared.

  “Follow me.”

  She slid past Declan and headed to the kitchen located at the back of the house. She was edgy, still unsure if she’d made a huge mistake; however, there was no turning back now.

  She flipped on the light, though the rusting fixture that hung from the center of the ceiling didn’t do much to illuminate the room. The kitchen was as dated and tired as the rest of the house, with frayed, yellowed wallpaper and cracked linoleum. She rested her hip against the aluminum-framed table. The last time she’d sat at the damn thing it had been 1956. Elvis had been king, her brother had been home, and she’d been happy.

  As always, thoughts of Jean-Charles conjured up memories best left alone. It seemed a lifetime ago, and for someone who had lived for over three hundred years that was saying something. She pushed all thoughts of her brother aside. There was no room for bitterness and melancholy. Not tonight anyway.

  Ana straightened the cherry red vinyl chair and eyed the ancient fridge. Christ, she needed a drink. Badly.

  “I work for Bill.” Her words came out in a rush. “It was he who brought me back from the darkness two years ago.”

  Declan’s eyes widened for just a second. “After the fiasco in Vegas? You’ve been alive all this time?”

  His words were controlled, his tone conversational, yet his hands were clenched tightly. She nodded and waited as long moments of silence followed.

  “It doesn’t make sense. If he pulled a Lazarus with you, why aren’t you working for the Seraphim like Nico and I? Why did no one tell me?” His face was unreadable.

  “Bill doesn’t trust them.”

  Declan’s eyes narrowed and he took two steps until he was inches from her. Ana’s gut clenched and she wished he’d move away. His scent was irresistible, his heartbeat mesmerizing.

  “I’m in New Orleans because I’ve been ordered by that little fucker”—his words were matter-of-fact and he watched her closely—“to bring someone in for the Seraphim, of which Bill is one, last I heard.”

  “You would hand over a boy to them? Do you even know why they want him?”

  She saw the confusion on his face.

  “Boy?” He rubbed his jaw.

  “They want Kaden.” Her voice trembled slightly and she was pissed at the show of emotion. “I’ll die before that happens.”

  “Well that’s kinda hard, isn’t it? Since technically you’re already dead.”

  His smart-ass tongue was starting to get on her nerves.

  At Ana’s growl Declan raised an eyebrow. “So, let me get this straight. Bill has me on the trail of a kid that he has you protecting?”

  “That’s about right.” Ana was just as confused. “I don’t know why he didn’t warn me. He usually does.” She paced as she spoke. “He plays nice with the Seraphim even if he doesn’t always believe in their methods. Of course he sent you after Kaden. He was ordered to.” She stopped and felt a wave of dizziness wash over her. God, she needed blood. “It’s just . . . he usually warns me when the game has changed. If I’d known you were on the hunt I’d have taken Kaden deep underground.”

  “Bill’s away. He’s been called to council for Azaiel’s trial.”

  Ana was quiet as she digested that information. It made sense. If Bill was in the upper realm with the fallen, he’d have no way of contacting her. She shivered, suddenly so weary and tired of it all.

  For the first time in a long while she wasn’t sure she could carry out her mandate. She didn’t know if she could keep the boy safe from both the Seraphim and now Samael.

  The demon lord was like a dog, nose to the ground and tracking hard. It’s probably why the Seraphim had finally made a move. They didn’t want the demon underworld to get their hands on Kaden. They’d rather destroy the boy than chance it.

  “How long will he be away?” she asked.

  Declan shrugged. “I have no clue, but the last time he rode the golden elevator upstairs he was gone for months.”

  “I won’t let you take him,” she reiterated.

  Declan ignored her comment. “Who is he?”

  Ana pursed her mouth, her mind a total mess.
What had she done?

  “His name is Kaden.”

  “Yeah, I got that already. The kid have a last name?”

  Ana shook her head. “No, just Kaden.”

  “He’s full of magick.” Declan’s eyes narrowed. At Ana’s tight-lipped stare he swore under his breath. “Where did he come from?”

  She watched changing emotions flicker across Declan’s face, and swallowed thickly. “He was abandoned as a toddler. As far as I know his parents are either dead or long gone.”

  “Where did you find him?”

  Her gaze fell to the ground. “An orphanage in Los Angeles.” She grimaced. “A real shithole of a place. He’d been there since he was two.”

  Declan’s dark eyes bored into her. She felt them, the intensity, the anger.

  “What does the Seraphim want with him?”

  The vampire shrugged her shoulders. “I have no idea.”

  Ana met his gaze full-on but knew he wasn’t fooled.

  Declan O’Hara’s eyes narrowed. “You’re lying,” he whispered dangerously as he took a step toward her.

  Ana stared at him in silence.

  O’Hara was right.

  She was totally full of shit.

  Chapter 4

  Declan turned from Ana, not trusting himself. He glanced around the sparse kitchen and tried to focus on something other than the vampire.

  It was no use. What the hell was going on?

  He crossed to the window and stared into the backyard and though he tried to appear calm it was fucking killing him. He wanted to grab hold of Ana and . . . do what? Shake her until her head snapped? Kill her? Screw her?

  He was confused as all hell, pissed beyond belief, and—he clenched his fists tightly—full of anger.

  He’d watched the woman he loved die at the hands of his father. Every night when he closed his eyes it was Ana’s face he saw. Lifeless, pale . . . dead. That had been on him. It was his cross to bear and he’d held it willingly.

  Declan’s jaw ached from tension and he blew out a long breath in an effort to center himself.