Page 59 of Burn for the Devil
I grabbed her by her throat without laying a hand on her and tossed her off my lap and onto the seat. Carefully. I did love her, after all.
“There’s no such thing as Lucifer and if there was, he’s long gone. As for Satan, well, you can speak to my father about that,” I hissed at her.
Releasing her, I sat back, adjusting my jacket. I was sick and tired of the misnomers and misunderstandings. If people would only take the time to learn their history, this could all be avoided. It was beyond disparaging and bordered on abusive.
Samantha coughed and rubbed her throat, glaring at me. “That’s no way to get a woman to love you, you bastard.”
I let out a low laugh. “It's too late, you already do.” If she’d had anything she could’ve thrown at me, she would’ve. She’d be even angrier if she knew I could see the small red aura around her heart when she was in my presence.
She loved me.
The car pulled up in front of her house and I forced her to stay in the car as I got out. It was stupid to leave her here by herself, but I’d placed some heavy wards around the perimeter of her property. I’d also had Alexander assign some lesser demons to keep an eye out for disturbances. Lesser demonswere quite fickle, but the promise of some fresh bodies seemed to have done the trick. The ones I used were different than my father’s and more corporeal, making them more loyal to me as they understood the pleasures of the flesh on a deeper level. If they weren’t, they’d pay a steep and irreversible price. They were here, I could feel them, but no one would dare step anywhere near me unless absolutely necessary. I wasn’t known for possessing a moderated temperament or an ounce of mercy. Absently, I noted how my moods remained more erratic than normal. I’d hoped the blood wine would cure that a bit faster.
Opening the car door for Samantha, I took her hand and helped her out. “Wait—the driver. Where’s John and his driver?”
She crossed her arms the same moment another thud sounded from the trunk. I was sure she’d heard it earlier, but she’d never said a thing. I had no idea where the driver was, or who he was for that matter. “John knowingly placed you in danger.”
Another thud and her eyes tracked to the trunk. She stopped when I grabbed her arm. “Is he in the trunk?”
“Go inside and get some rest,” I directed her, leading her to her front door. “Or are you coming home with me?”
Samantha flung a dirty look at me and whipped her head around, furiously punching the security keypad at her door while she entered her code. She slammed the door shut behind her, severing me from the fragrance of her soul.
As adorable as she was, I’d only put up with this behavior from her for so long. Once I was satisfied she was safe, I got back into the car. Leaving was the last thing I’d wanted to do. As much as I wanted to feast on her, I would’ve been content just to hold her and alleviate some of the pain that plagued me every second I was away. Briefly, I considered joining her once she was asleep and then decided against it. She needed to match my pain and then come to me. I was sick and tired of her lying to herself.
I knew Samantha wasn’t a source. I could barely detect the magic within her and only since I’d made love to her had I come to feel it. I’d tasted her—thoroughly. It was ideal, in light of past circumstances, she wasn’t.
A diary Alastair’s wife had recently recovered stated only a source could choose their mate and I was following that protocol despite Samantha not being one of them. There had to be a reason for that rule, some advantage to be had. Plus, I didn’t want to go through the nonsense I went through with Kiara all over again. Especially when Samantha was so much more and meant so much more to me.
Of course, as always, my pride played a major part in my decision. No one could say I hadn’t followed the rules.
Afresh arrangement of deep red roses was on the corner of my desk. I hadn’t approved it, yet it was perched there anyway. My first thought was the man I’d dubbed my probation officer, Branko, had arranged this glaring reminder, but he hadn’t been seen or heard from in weeks now. Lucian, Victor, Julian, and him together had instituted and enforced my banishment from the other realms in cooperation with other kings and leaders from realms I didn’t bother with due to my own lack of interest. Branko had liked to play dangerously, playing both sides in the past, so I couldn’t put it past him to instigate me, to throw it in my face how I’d failed. Even if he was on the other side of the country.
The last I’d heard, Branko and his woman, Margaret, had shacked up with some vampire clan in Northern Canada. Branko, or most of the others for that matter, couldn’t stop mefrom going where I wanted, when I wanted. They could severely inconvenience me, but they couldn’t stop me.
Julian, my father, could kill me if he so chose. His impossible directive to locate another source of magic remained hanging over my head as an ominous warning. Rarely, did I ever feel this powerless. The combination of magical decay and my father’s threats were unabideable.
My cellphone chimed, annoying the hell out of me as usual as I sat at my desk attempting to plan my next move. When I saw the notification was only from Alastair, my ire lessened. Then, the next thing I knew, he’d materialized in front of my desk—with Devane.
Somehow, he’d gotten around my wards and transported the two of them directly into my office.
“Hmm,” Alastair drawled. “I wasn’t expecting this,” he said referring to my obviously weakened barrier.
Rubbing my hand over my face, I sat back. I wanted to be angry he’d violated my personal space without warning, but he’d done me a favor. “You know better. What if I had been in a compromising position?”
Alastair snorted. “Wouldn’t be anything I hadn’t seen before.”
True. “Devane is with you.” She gave me a tight-lipped smile.
“She knows better than to look at your cock.” He waved his hand at me, and I heard his woman giggle.
“Enough about Ramone’s dick. He’s a dick but we all know that.” Devane pulled a notebook out of her bag after sharing her unsolicited opinion.
“You’re still not my type, Devane,” I drawled, leaning my elbows on my desk’s surface.
She approached my desk holding the book in front of her. “Likewise,” she said, mildly amused.
“At least you’re not checking me out this time,” I said, trying to rile her. It worked.