Wicked Road to Hell Page 5

  She was on the verge of orgasm and Declan had barely touched her. He was breathing hard, they were both fully clothed, and he’d not even kissed her yet.

  “What are you waiting for?” she asked hoarsely.

  His hand slid to the base of her skull as his other cupped her from behind. In one graceful movement he placed her upon the counter and slid between her legs. The bright lights overhead dimmed, and for the first time Ana noticed the glittery energy that lit his dark eyes.

  He was silent as he looked down at her, and everything inside her melted. Her hands crept up hard abs until they rested upon his chest and she felt the heat of his skin through the thin T-shirt he wore. God, did he have to feel as good as he smelled? She licked her lips and her mouth went dry at the thought of tasting him.

  He was nearly flush against her and Ana felt the aggressive nature that was her vampire erupt from within. She wrapped her legs around him and pulled herself up until her breasts were crushed against his chest.

  “I’m waiting,” he murmured against her flesh.

  “For what?”

  Crap, don’t you go there . . . His lips skated across her neck and she hissed at the sensation left in his wake.

  “For you to ask nicely,” he replied.

  Her fangs lengthened, but she pushed them back. The darkness that always lingered around the edges of her mind was calling like a seductive whisper.

  She couldn’t taste him because she was afraid she’d never be able to stop.

  “I don’t think this is a good idea.” She closed her eyes and stifled a groan as he suckled the flesh between the crook of her neck and her collarbone.

  “Really.” His mouth was nearly to hers, her head held in place by a hand on each side of her jaw. “I think you’re lying.”

  Jesus, but she felt like she was coming apart, and it took nearly everything inside her to remain calm, to keep the beast at rest and yet . . . it had been so long since she’d fed for pure pleasure.

  She opened her mouth to protest but his lips were there, sliding across her own with an assured ease as his tongue darted inside. So much for waiting for permission.

  Her fingers dug into him and she tried to push him away, but his arms tightened around hers. He forced her head back as he attacked her mouth with an aggressiveness that teased the beast inside.

  She growled against his lips and then opened fully beneath him, not caring of the consequence, only knowing that the fire Declan had started was going to be a bitch to put out.

  Her legs were entwined around his waist and she clung to him like a child as he continued to kiss her long and hard, each pass of his tongue pulling on a chord deep within her that was so painful it was exquisite.

  Erotic images played in her mind, of naked limbs and dark eyes. That he could do this to her with just a kiss was insane, and as she continued to gyrate against him, she ignored the alarm bells ringing in her ears.

  She’d never had such a kiss, and though she’d envisioned this in her mind countless times as they’d been bunkered down working missions the world over, the real deal was so much more intense than she’d ever dreamed.

  She groaned into him and when her incisors broke skin and slid out, she paused. Slowly his tongue lapped at their length, but then he pulled away, taking his warmth with him.

  Outside the last of the cicadas played their sad lament, their song riding the breeze until the echoes faded into nothing.

  Declan’s eyes were like mirrors of chocolate. They shimmered with a brilliance that was mesmerizing. Silence fell between the two of them and they stared at each other for several long moments. His face was unreadable, closed.

  He set her back down upon the counter and Ana hated that she felt empty. Cheated. His blood still sang to her, teasing with the unknown. His pulse was steady and she licked her lips as she eyed his jugular.

  “I’ll stay and help the boy.” Declan pulled away and the moment was over. He was all business now.

  “That’s it?” Her nipples ached and they strained against the black tank top she wore. She fought the urge to run her hands along the taut peaks.

  He crooked his head to the side and her eyes rested upon the classic bone structure that he’d been gifted with. Declan O’Hara was every woman’s fantasy, every dark, tortured inch of him.

  She couldn’t help herself, and her gaze slid down the length of his body.

  “Did you want more?” His voice was like silk and she saw the smirk that hugged the corner of his mouth. What the hell was wrong with her?

  “No!” she protested much too quickly, and as his smile deepened Ana fought the urge to slam her fist upside his head.

  “The next time I put my mouth on your body I intend to take my time and indulge.”

  Ana jumped off the counter. “There won’t be a next time. You’re not my type, remember?” Liar, everything about him is your type.

  Declan was nearly out the door. “Yeah, and your eyes are not tattooed to my ass right now.”

  She blushed, which was something she’d not done in decades.

  “Where are you going?” She winced at the whine that accompanied her words. Did she have to sound so desperate?

  “Wards must be put in place if you’re to be protected. I’ll be outside.” The door slammed, and it echoed into the now-quiet room.

  What the hell had just happened? Wearily she rubbed her eyes, and it was saying something that she was in fact tired.

  What the hell had Bill been thinking?

  “If something happens to Kaden I’ll never forgive myself,” she whispered. In the space of a few hours her life had changed course in a way she’d never thought possible, all of it defined by two words, Declan O’Hara. He was a complication she wasn’t sure she was strong enough to deal with.

  She turned off the light and stood in the dark for a few moments, her fingers against her lips as she gazed out the window into the dark. She thought of her brother Jean-Charles, and her gut tightened as bittersweet melancholy hit her hard.

  If she wasn’t careful she’d end up just like him. Lost forever.

  The damp was biting and fog was rolling in as Declan worked feverishly to get some heavy-duty protection wards in place. Latent energy hung in the air—it stank of demon and otherworld. He couldn’t deny the potency of it, nor the pull he felt as he inhaled its stench and let it settle in his chest.

  The darkness was seductive, powerful, and for the moment he’d use it, manipulate it for his own purposes. What the hell. He’d always been an opportunist, and right now he could use a bit of extra mojo.

  Declan slipped between the shadows that bordered the large home, every sense alert as he carefully made his way to the backyard. The gloom was pierced by a ray of light that shone from a window above and yet the lower level now appeared to be in darkness.

  He drew charms into the air, exotic designs that glistened in the darkness. They hung in luminescent shadow, like the thinnest thread of a spider’s weave, and then disappeared as the magick took hold.

  Declan concentrated and infused his spells with many intricate layers of protection. He knew they were strong—probably the strongest he’d ever conjured—but with a demon lord like Samael after Ana and the boy, he wasn’t taking any chances.

  No fucking way. He’d had a major hard-on for the vampire for so long it was stupid. He’d coveted and dreamed about her for years. When he was in the bowels of Hell her memory, her scent, and the need to see her again were what got him through.

  He’d made a vow that when he made it out he’d claim her, tell her exactly how he felt, and explain to her why she needed to let him in. To be with him.

  It was his sorry-ass luck that a week after he escaped Hell with Julian Castille she was dead at his feet and his butt had been signed over to the Seraphim.

  He clenched his teeth so tightly that his jaw ached as he continued to work. He still could not think clearly of that day and the events that had led to her death.

  Fate had pretty m
uch kicked him in the ass, and yet now, two years later, he was getting a second chance.

  Declan felt his groin tighten at the thought of her lips against his, and of the way she felt against his body—so small, compact, and fierce. He’d waited years for that kiss and though he’d acted cool and in control, the simple truth was, in that moment she’d wrecked him.

  He was not going to let this opportunity slide by. He’d protect the teenager, something he’d have done regardless. He’d also do what he could for the others on the list.

  But his ultimate goal was the vampire. He would have her.

  His eyes flew open as a bolt of energy slid through him. It was only a question of when.

  Chapter 6

  Decatur Street was crazy. It was a typical Friday night in the Big Easy, yet the dark undercurrent that slithered beneath the crowd had Declan on edge. Everything was too loud, too frenetic. He could literally taste the chaos that rode the wind.

  Sad to say it was a taste he could learn to love.

  He glanced at Ana. She was tense. She’d deny it of course, but he saw it clear as day. Her hands were tight at her sides and her jaw was clenched as she scanned the crowd.

  “You feel it?” he asked.

  Ana nodded but remained quiet. She’d been like that since the night before. It wasn’t something he was used to, and in fact he much preferred her biting tongue and sarcastic comebacks.

  “Something isn’t right.” He nodded to the crowd. “They’re not right.”

  “It’s Samael. He’s close by.” She glanced up at him. “Are you sure the house is protected? I should have stayed home with Kaden.”

  He didn’t like anyone questioning his power but was willing to cut her some slack. It was obvious she was worried. “No one will get through my charms.”

  “Samael is strong.”

  “No shit,” Declan murmured, “and the pack of wolves Ransome sent over will keep him more than busy if he shows.”

  He spied the Voodoo Lounge and guided Ana through the dense crowd. The incredible hulk was once more on door duty, but this time stepped away and directed them inside.

  The club was filled near to bursting, hundreds of bodies gyrating to the heavy music that blasted from the stage. The room was hot, the atmosphere even hotter, and he inhaled a blast of sweat, booze, and sex. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t affect him. The energy was potent, just the kind he liked.

  A tall shifter approached them, a wolf, but his eyes were only for Ana.

  “DeLacrux.”

  Declan’s jaw clenched. Who the hell was this?

  Ana nodded. “Asher.”

  The wolf bowed. He was old school and carried a certain charm that wasn’t present in today’s world. Shifters lived longer than humans but maxed out around two hundred years. This shifter was mature and deadly.

  “I’m O’Hara,” Declan proclaimed as he moved so that he now stood between the two of them.

  The werewolf turned his attention to Declan. “I know exactly who you are.”

  “Where’s Ransome?” Declan asked.

  The wolf ignored his question and moved to the side. He smiled down at Ana. “It’s been what, fifty years?”

  “Closer to sixty,” she answered stiffly.

  “How’s Jean-Charles?” The wolf’s eyes glittered strangely and Declan felt an immediate shift in the air.

  Who the hell was Jean-Charles?

  “I have no clue.” Ana stepped closer to Declan. “Let’s go,” she said tightly.

  “Really?” the wolf murmured. “I’m sorry to hear of your estrangement, but then again he was always the wild one, no?”

  “You’re so full of shit,” Ana said tightly. “If Jean-Charles walked in here today you’d crap your pants.”

  “Where’s Ransome?” Declan asked once more, and took a step toward the wolf as he did so.

  Asher growled, a low warning shot from deep in his belly. “You will give me some space, sorcerer.”

  Declan’s fingertips burned with energy and he flexed them in warning. “I won’t ask you again.”

  “Back off, Asher,” Ana hissed. She took a step forward until she was at Declan’s side. “Or I will rip your throat out.”

  Asher’s eyes narrowed as a wicked smile cut across his features. The air around him thickened and Declan knew he was close to the change. “I think I might enjoy that but there’s no time tonight.” The wolf nodded toward the mezzanine. “Ransome is expecting you.”

  Declan grabbed Ana’s elbow and guided her through the crowd. The heavy beat was fueling the crowd something fierce. They walked through the sweaty, writhing bodies and he could taste the decadence.

  Ana yanked her arm from his grip and proceeded up the stairs, leaving him to follow. The jeans she wore were faded, soft, and worn, and they gripped her curves like a second skin. He tore his eyes away and glanced down at the crowd. Asher licked his lips and smiled up at him, though his eyes were on Ana once more.

  Declan ignored him even though he wanted to smash the wolf’s aristocratic nose. There could be no distractions. Not tonight.

  Ana made her way toward the office, and it occurred to him that she’d been there before—she knew exactly where she was going. She didn’t knock and he followed her into Ransome’s office.

  The wolf sat behind his desk, feet up, cigar in hand, and looking totally relaxed—a direct contrast to the borderline chaos that threatened his club. Declan nodded in greeting but it was the large man leaning against his desk who grabbed his attention.

  Nico.

  “Holy fuck,” Declan murmured. The jaguar warrior was dressed head to toe in leather and denim, but it was the blue Mohawk he sported and accompanying nose ring that had Declan’s attention.

  Nico pushed away from the desk. “O’Hara.”

  “What the hell happened to you?”

  The warrior shrugged his shoulders. “A dancer at Ringo’s. I thought it was time for a change.”

  “I see that,” Declan answered. “For most of us a change might mean more or less hair product, some facial hair. You look like you belong on the freakin’ A-team.” He glanced at Ransome and grinned. “Seriously, Mr. T’s got nothing on you.”

  The jaguar ignored him and turned his attention to the vampire. If he was surprised to see her, he gave no indication. Ana stood a few feet away, legs wide and hands held loose at her sides, though the fists were still clenched.

  Nico nodded to her. “You’re looking better than the last time I saw you in Vegas.”

  “Considering I’d just been staked I sure as hell hope so.”

  “Miss DeLacrux.” Ransome rose. “Welcome to the Voodoo Lounge.”

  Ana arched a brow. “I’m sure Asher has told you I’ve been here before.”

  “Yes, he did, though fortunately I missed your last visit and the ensuing chaos it produced.”

  Declan frowned. He didn’t like being in the dark but wasn’t about to ask the question. “Are the two of you done walking down memory lane? Because last I checked we have a situation brewing”—he glanced toward Nico—“and when we don’t return with the boy you can bet your ass the Seraphim will come looking as well.”

  “Boy?” Nico sounded surprised.

  Declan nodded. “Our target isn’t a man but a teenager.”

  “So you’ve found him.” The jaguar studied him closely, “and we’re not bringing him in because?”

  Ana stepped forward. The tips of her fangs peeked from between her lips. She stood as tall as her five-foot-two frame allowed and hissed as she faced the jaguar warrior.

  “First off you’d have to go through me, jaguar, and secondly, Declan has agreed to protect him.”

  Nico glanced his way and Declan winced at the fury in his eyes. Shit, here we go. With his newly shorn Mohawk, the jaguar looked like a deranged serial killer. “One word,” the warrior hissed. “Purgatory.”

  Declan clenched his hands into fists, at the ready, just in case. He was never going to live down the Church
of the Holy Fiasco but for fuck sakes he was getting sick of hearing about it. “Look, the whole purgatory thing was a mistake, but can we please move on? How the hell was I supposed to know the ladies were pure? That they’d been chosen to serve?”

  Nico snorted, disgusted. “They were living in a fucking convent. That might have been your first clue.”

  Declan narrowed his eyes and faced the jaguar. “I will not hand him over. You know how the Seraphim work. Their motives aren’t always pristine. We can’t guarantee Kaden’s safety.”

  “Kaden? You have a name, too?” Nico paced the length of the room and the air around him blurred. He’d always been volatile, and living on the edge of humanity for the last several years hadn’t done him any favors.

  Declan pulled up the energy that thrummed inside his chest.

  Ransome growled a warning but it was Ana who defused the situation. She was at Nico’s side before anyone could move and placed her hand upon his arm. Declan watched closely, his hands at the ready. He didn’t give a flying fuck that Nico was his partner, one of the Seraph. If the jaguar laid one paw on Ana he’d tear him apart.

  “Nico.” Her voice was soft, entreating. “He’s a boy. A sixteen-year-old boy.”

  “Why do they want him?”

  Ana exhaled slowly. “He has this mark.” She paused and looked back toward Declan. “I don’t understand all of it but he’s one of seven who have it.”

  Nico’s lips were tight as he glanced toward Declan. “It would be great if you could explain a little better than that.”

  “He’s the fifth of the mark of seven.” There it was. There would be no sugarcoating.

  Silence greeted his words, long moments that stretched taut until Declan felt it clawing at him.

  “Holy fuck.” Ransome looked stunned. “This changes everything.”

  “The mark of seven,” Nico repeated. The jaguar began to pace once more. “Shit.”

  Declan watched the jaguar closely. The mark meant nothing until Kaden joined with the others. Only then would the true power that was the mark of seven be revealed. The question, of course, was would they gravitate toward the dark or the light? Or hang somewhere in the middle.