Page 11 of Burn for the Devil
I snarled, “You’re out there fucking anything with a hole.”
“But I’m not killing them,” he shot back at me.
He had me there. “Since when do you care so much?” I asked, half-serious. Honestly, it wasn’t as enjoyable as it’d once been. But it was a fantastic outlet for the angst and aggression that’d been slowly building inside me.
Ilya glanced down at his tie and adjusted the diamond studded clip. “Since we noticed the effects of that wine, which, by the way, there’s a bottle missing out of the three. If there’s only three.”
I sighed. “For fuck’s sake.” Running my hand through my hair, I said, “What is wrong with you? You enjoy murder just as much as I do.”
“Self-defense or slaughtering in battle isn’t murder.” I didn’t miss the gleam in his eye. He could try to lie to me, but he couldn’t lie to himself. I had no doubt he didn’t manipulate situations in a manner under which he could indulge his compulsions.
“Keep telling yourself that. What are you so worried about? It’s not as if they can do anything to us.” Letting out a dark laugh I remarked, “When’s the last time someone arrested any of us? They can’t.”
Ilya started, “Ramone...”
“We’ll find the bottles, don’t worry. Where’s Alexander been?”
“Ramone, listen to me. The effects of that bottle—we don’t know the full ramifications yet. As you know, it’s having a serious effect on us. What if it doesn’t stop? What if it goes further than just conscience and emotions? Nobody knows.”
A trickle of panic slid down my spine. I hadn’t been taking the situation seriously enough and we had no idea how many bottles there were for sure. I felt fairly confident there were only four.
He was right, as much as it pained me to admit. “Okay. Point taken. We should all discuss this.”
Ilya nodded. “Thank you. I’ll spread the word.”
“We meet here,” I announced with finality. “No where else.”
An hour later, I sat in my car on a narrow side street in front of a small shop. I had the emerald-green velvet box I’d exited the store with clutched in my hands. I popped open the lid and peered at its contents.
My woman had extraordinary taste; craftsmanship such as this was an extreme rarity in this realm. The gold vines were exquisitely etched, displaying each striation as if the necklace had been plucked from the forest and transformed via sorcery. I couldn’t wait to see the piece adorning her graceful neck. In my mind I saw her spread beneath me, taking my cock, clad only in the gold and lavender necklace, my name on her gasping lips.
She didn’t even know I existed. I’d have to change that, and soon. It wasn’t enough to imagine her; I needed her physically with me.
Pulling up to the same curb as I had months prior, I eyed the house. Everything was dark and peaceful. The full moon shone overhead, the atmosphere performing its trickery, causing the lunar shape to appear larger than it was. I missed the Fourth Realm, with its crystalline stars and heavy moon. Everything here was muted, dimmed, a facsimile of what it should’ve been.
When my banishment was over—if it was ever over, I would take Samantha to the Fourth and show her the true night sky and the flowers that bloomed in darkness. I shuddered, imagining the feel of her flesh against my lips, the taste of her skin. She would feel as free as I did, there, I was certain. Without a doubt, I knew she felt as confined as I did, it was written all over her.
Waving my hand at the front door, it opened silently. My polished leather shoes swept across the front entrance soundlessly, as I wandered into the living room. Her home was unpacked and arranged to what must’ve been her liking. I could still smell Tim, the wretched stench of his useless being, and wrinkled my nose in distaste. How could she have let him touch her? A thin thread of anger wound its way through my veins, the air shimmering around me while I willed my heart rate to inch back down.
Tim was a nonentity at this point, my imprisonment of Samantha having worked out better than I’d intended. My purpose was to keep her and her temptations far, far away. She was too precious to destroy. She was a goddess, a siren, and I would worship at her feet if given half a chance.
Then, I remembered. I couldn’t be trusted, not with something as precious as her. Resigning myself to worship from afar, I let out a deep breath while a heavy weight settled over my heart. Kiara’s face entered my memory. I’d killed her unintentionally, just like she’d killed her parents. I would lie to Samantha, just as I’d lied to the little flame-girl. I’d let Kiara go, allowing her to think I was dead, but it was all in vain. She still ended up dying. No one had ever come back from where she went. I couldn’t resign this woman to the same fate; I cared for her too much to allow myself to poison her life.
Tim still needed to be poisoned—I’d completely forgotten about my previous plan. Maybe I would do it in front of her,a symbol of my devotion? Then, she would know she was safe from lesser beings, from humans unworthy of one moment of her attention. The thought of my own unworthiness teased the back of my mind again, forcing a sharp pain through my chest. Taking a deep breath, I pushed forward. I knew I should turn around and leave, just take my exit, but my feet seemed to have a mind of their own.
The bedroom door was cracked open a few inches, and I gripped the edge, my rings catching on the frame. Samantha didn’t stir at the sound. She lay motionless, blankets pulled up to her waist, her arm resting across her breasts, as I placed the jewelry box on her bedside table. Her deep brown hair was spread against her satin pillowcase, her lush mouth partly open. A tiny snore emanated from her mouth, and I bit back a chuckle.How cute.
I sprung to my feet. What the fuck was wrong with me? I spun on my heel and rushed outside. Shaken by the depth of my affection and the longing in my soul, I shuddered. My head was a mess and the rising emotions overwhelming. An unfamiliar dampness pressed the back of my eyes.
The cold day in hell had arrived.
I started up my car and punched in Ilya’s number. It rang and rang before going to voicemail. I left him a very direct message. The draw I felt toward Samantha was too strong, too encompassing. There was no way I could claim her without hurting her. I’d rather lose my life than cause any harm to this woman and yet I couldn’t bring myself to stay away. I wanted to fight my demons, but I was the demon. How could I fight myself?
It’d been a long time since I’d separated from Kiara, with Ilya’s more than willing assistance in my doing so. Thinking back on how I’d slowly created space between her and I and put the well-being of another person in front of my own, I couldn’tdeny the changes in me. The process was slow and insidious, growing and metastasizing as if it were a cancer, eating away at the very fabric of my being bit by bit. What would I become? My entire purpose was to replace my father when he took his leave. I was the prince of darkness for a reason.
Frustrated, I tried to call Alexander.
No answer.