Page 63 of Feral Possession

“That was incredible,” Dove gasped.

Her delight filled him with disgust. The demon was wooing her, and the little idiot was falling for it. He pushed her away from him, raking his shaking hand through his hair. “Incredibly stupid.”

She spun to face him, smile fading. “Excuse me?”

“You had no idea if it would harm you. Yet you put yourself in danger. For what? Morbid curiosity?” Was that why she’d kissed him? Were her desires twisted?

Dove tucked the edges of her robe around her like armor and lifted her chin. “I was in no danger unless you intended me harm. The spirit is part of you. You are a part of him. Given what we were doing when it appeared, I didn’t perceive any threat.”

Of course she didn’t because she’d grown attached to the bastard. Felt affection for a creature that may very well ruin Marcus’s life. Her divided loyalties stung. “This was a mistake.” He never should have let his guard down around her.

She narrowed her eyes. “Did you ever think your issue isn’t the problem? Instead, it’s your reaction to the problem that’s the issue?”

What nonsense was she inflicting on him now? He glared at her. “I’ve little patience with riddles, and you’ve no time for them. Get back to work.” He flung out his arm, gesturing to the gate. “You’ve got twenty-four hours to rid me of this disgusting creature.”

“Yes, Lord Steele,” she bit out, turning on her heel, stomping away. “It’s a shame the exorcism won’t do anything to extract that enormous stick you have up your butt.”

And he would love nothing more than to tan hers. He studied the angry twitch of her hips. Even in his anger, his body stirred. Perhaps once his demon was gone, he’d give the defiant faerie what she deserved.

Sixteen

Thunder crashed, rattling the floors of the mansion. Dove glanced at the glass balcony doors, wincing at the flash of lightning. It was as if the universe knew she intended to disrupt the natural flow. “Would it be too much to expect a balmy evening on the night of an exorcism?”

“Just a passing storm. Nothing to worry about,” Bishop said, shoving the massive bed across the hardwood floor, helping her to prepare.

They’d chosen the former master suite due to the sturdy four-poster bed. That and the personal connection it would have for Marcus. The memories of his parents would help to tether his spirit here. Dozens of candles illuminated the space since too much artificial light would further agitate the demon. Chains rested on the bare mattress. There was no telling how Shadow-Steele would react once they got started.

Shadow. Her heart twisted. He was an innocent in this and yet he would pay the price for another’s crimes. Marcus hadn’t slept in days, refusing to let him rise. She’d had zero contact with the demon since they left the island. No chance to explain. To soften the blow she was about to strike. If this went as she hoped, perhaps in time, he’d forgive her.

“More to the left,” Dove instructed. Everything had to be exact.

Bishop hip-checked the frame, bumping the bed into the center of the pentacle she’d drawn on the floor. Inside the star were multiple smaller images. It had taken her most of the day to duplicate the symbols they needed. Bowls with different offerings were positioned at the tip of each star point. While the one at the top remained empty, the others contained soil, ashes, water, and a feather.

“Good?” Bishop glanced up at her, his thick brow lined with worry. They were both feeling the pressure. If this didn’t go well, Marcus could end up in worse shape than he was currently. That is—if he survived.

“Yep.” She checked the pocket watch she’d borrowed from Archie. Electronics were a no-no when working with powerful spirits. “Almost midnight. Now, all we need is—”

Knuckles rapped on the door. “Speak of the devil.” Earlier, she’d sent Marcus away, his presence rattling her already frayed nerves. Nerves led to distractions. Distractions to mistakes. Tonight, she couldn’t afford to make a single mistake. Goddess, for once, please let me get this right.

Marcus entered the room, and she took in the sight of him, her heart flipping. As per her request, he’d worn black pajama pants, leaving his gorgeous chest bare. While she understood he hated his damaged flesh, she found him beautiful. His left side was coarsely textured, painted in shades of cinder and ash. His right side was smooth and unblemished. Beneath it all, his build was sublime, muscled, powerful. His body was a living work of art. Life and death. Shadow and light. A testament to survival.

Their eyes met, and his harsh expression seized the oxygen in her lungs. He surveyed the space like a warrior preparing for battle. Fierce determination in the hard line of his jaw.

How could he look so determined while she was a quivering mess? If only she had a quarter of his fortitude, she’d be unstoppable. Since she couldn’t change her nature, she’d just have to work with what she had. Pure, unadulterated fear. It was a heady motivator.

“Ready?” Marcus asked in an emotionless tone.

“I think so. I’ve double-, triple-, and quadruple-checked every element and believe everything is in place. Everything but you.” She gestured to the bed.

“Very well.” He stretched out on the mattress on his back.

Bishop picked up the manacles. Casting Marcus a humorless look, he arched one thick eyebrow. “Don’t think this means we’re dating or anything.”

Marcus huffed a disgruntled sound, and Bishop restrained his wrists and ankles. Once he was secured, Marcus tugged on the chain that wrapped beneath the bed. “You’re certain this will hold?”

Bishop answered, his smirk taunting, “No. But it should give us time to run.”

“Well, that certainly puts my mind at ease,” Marcus grumbled. Earlier, he’d raised concerns about Dove’s and Bishop’s safety.

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