Page 38 of Burn for the Devil
“You’re stronger than you know.” Ilya’s lips slid into a smirk. “Did you know you weren’t supposed to come back when I put you under?”
My jaw started twitching. “I was unaware of that minor detail.” The man had once put me in a coma designed to keep me immobilized and disempowered for a length of time so he could possess Kiara. If not done correctly, the process can be permanent.
“I would’ve done anything it took.” He shoved his fingers in his pockets, his thumbs fiddling with the seams. He was nervous, and possibly traumatized, still, if he was going as far as to wrinkle his clothing.
I sighed. “I could’ve survived without that knowledge.”
“Just fucking take her. Do whatever you have to, or you’ll go crazy, and someone will dispose of you.”
My father would, either way. Just because he could. I’d rather die with the woman I loved by my side, if I had a choice in the matter. Ilya didn’t have to say the name for me to know exactly who “someone” was.
22
Ramone
All I wanted to do was go out and feed. I hadn’t, not for a while. It wasn’t a necessity, but it felt like one. The need for discretion and the wisdom behind using caution were the only things stopping me from leaving a trail of corpses in my wake. Serial killers’ odds of being caught were higher than what was convenient, and an investigation wasn’t a good look for Fulgere Industries.
Stefan and Alexander had voted down my suggestion of completely veiling our activities once again, concerned it may provoke undue attention by us disappearing so suddenly after beginning to make ourselves known. We weren’t the only beings out there; we were merely the ones using the Third Realm as our playground and enjoying its sins. I was in the upper hierarchies, obviously, but I could still be torn down—as difficult as that may be.
The thought of anyone attempting to overthrow me was enraging and the resulting red fog at the thought was interfering with my vision. The amount of alcohol I was consuming while sitting and trying to relax would kill a human. Thankfully, itwas biologically impossible for me to get drunk. The effects were comparable to only a mild sedative, no matter how much I imbibed.
Alastair’s wife had been busy translating cursed books and transcribing them. The spells she’d found were ancient and previously unknown, from what I could tell. At my request, she’d found one that should hide me well enough to venture undetected into other realms. The paper I held in my hand looked like a macabre shopping list. Many of the components were here in my home, a few of the others would need to be procured.
It seemed as if this would now have to be a regular activity, physically manipulating activities through witchcraft and spell work, rather than easily utilizing solely spiritual means. It was a major inconvenience not being able to visit the Fourth Realm for magic.
Some of my colleagues frequently engaged in the popular human craft, but I shouldn’t have to unless I chose to.
As frustrating as that was, therewasthe fact that I knew exactly where to go to get some of the oils I would need for this endeavor if I couldn’t visit where I truly wanted to.
The Crow’s Nest shop was a bit of a drive due to Boston’s horrendous traffic, and frustrating, twisting roads, and construction. I passed the time answering emails and reading industry articles. It was a boring pastime, and one I’d have to make far more interesting when the opportunity arose. The term “hostile takeover” was intriguing, piquing my interest as I learned more and more about corporate life. I made a mental note to discuss the possibilities with Stefan, whom I was certain would happily assist. I had the feeling “hostile” was overstated, dramatized for effect but it couldn’t hurt to play.
Adam opened the car door for me after we pulled up to the curb, directly in front of the entrance. Samantha was inside; Icould feel her. She’d seen my car stop and must’ve recognized the vehicle. Her anxiety and desire had reached me beyond the building’s walls.
The smell of incense inside the store was almost overpowering and partially blocked her personal scent. Wandering down an aisle, I unbuttoned my coat and my suit jacket. There could be nothing in the way if her hand found my waist again and I knew she liked what she felt when she’d reached for me. She could touch me all she wanted, when she wanted, and where.
A sound of approval left my lips as I pulled a demonology book from the shelf.She thought about me. Briefly, I wondered if I could get her to write something in it, the energy infused into her handwriting would provide a useful link to the woman. My index finger moved across the paper in the beginning of the book, imagining her signature while I visualized the connection it could give me.
With a start, I realized how strange such a request may sound and closed the book. I’d purchase it without voicing my desire.
I’d never thoroughly perused the contents of her shop, being much too busy watching the woman behind the counter. This visit, I took my time examining her offerings. There was an unusually prolific number of rose-scented items. Soaps, perfumes, mixtures designed to provide a pleasing fragrance in one’s home, candles with the petals pressed into the wax, and other curiosities. I would have to bring her roses again soon.
A narrow table was set against the far wall with a storied rack of small glass vials. I made my way over to it, feeling Samantha’s eyes burning a hole in the back of my head, and I longed to use compulsory magic. I refrained; I wanted her to come to me of her own free will.
In fascination, I scanned the display. Samantha had made potions for nearly every malady known to man.
While I stared at the choices, I felt Samantha’s hesitation. She’d begun to approach me, and then changed her mind, her still-muted aura temporarily visible out of the corner of my eye. I felt my back stiffen and I exhaled, relaxing my shoulders. My tension would do nothing to dissuade her anxiety.
After procuring what I needed, I went to the front of the store. I’d subtly encouraged all other patrons to leave by manipulating their auras, and then Samantha was by herself.
“Why are you here?” Samantha glared at me as I placed my items down. She glanced down at the counter, eyes shuttering. “I sent you this book. To your office, I think.”
Someone’s head was going to roll seeing as I never received it. “Thank you.” Samantha looked up, mildly confused. Her lips parted, as if to say something, before closing again.
She gave me a total and I passed her a credit card. Her discomfort was increasing with every second that passed. I watched her struggle with the small piece of plastic.
“Stop staring at me,” she complained.
I didn’t, getting lost in the cyan shade of her eyes, wanting to taste her, wanting to touch her, and taking deep but subtle inhales of her delectable scent. Her aura brightened slightly, sparkling around her head and her chest, suspended in the air and dancing in the shaft of sunlight streaming through the side window.