Page 47 of Burn for the Devil

“He was,” I grunted. Her beautiful blue eyes looked up at me expectantly. “I thought,” I remarked.

“Then how is he here?”

I pulled my hand away from hers. “No one ever dies, not as you would imagine it. They go somewhere else. Somewhere out of reach. It is also possible that Ammar was critically injured and managed to survive.”

“Is that a problem?”

Samantha was staring at her feet when I answered. “That remains to be seen.”

“What, really, is going on?”

Letting out a breath, I said, “That is a question for another time.” There was no way to answer her while I was figuring things out myself. Plus, the sun was setting. It’d be dark in a moment, and we needed to get back to the cottage. I didn’t want to take us back while we were in the middle of the forest and exposed. There were too many variables and possible hazards when what was supposed to be clandestine and guarded, was not. It was bad enough the crystal I held in my hand was the equivalent of a homing device. I needed time to think and strategize.

We were plunged into darkness in seconds. The normally bright stars were muted, and the full moon dimmed. Samantha’s sharp intake of breath was the only sound I heard while I rushed her up the steps and hurried her into the small house.

“Is that normal here?” she asked, in response to the near-instantaneous nightfall.

Taking Samantha’s arm, I drew her against me, the feel of her small body an immediate comfort. “No, it's speeding up,” I said without further explanation as I slid a hand down her armsto grab her wrists with my free hand. “We’re leaving now.” The bottle of wine was pressed between us, interfering with the full body contact I wanted with her.

There was a brief moment where I thought I’d lose her; the normal ease of transition having felt different. There was a pulling away, a roughness, that I’d never encountered before. It was alarming. These were problems I’d never encountered and didn’t possess the solutions or answers for. I was slowly being rendered useless, powerless. It was terrifying.

My grip on Samantha slipped the moment we appeared back in her bedroom as I stopped the scrying glass from crashing to the floor. She fell against her bed and sat down, a bewildered expression crossing her features as she set the bottle down.

The crystal ball in my hands appeared dim, the ether once floating inside the sphere vanished immediately when there should’ve been a seed I could detect. Often, magic didn’t work the same way here in the Third Realm and had to be invited so I tried not to let the absence alarm me. This wasn’t a tool I’d ever used, or deigned to use; I merely hoped the lack wasn’t indictive of my growing problems.

Ammar may have stated he had no intentions toward Samantha, but I didn’t trust him. He’d died during the same battle that killed my wife. Or so I thought. That war had been messy, with beings from multiple different realms vying for power. Many different versions of events were espoused but ultimately, the fight was for freedom. Nobody enjoyed being told what to do—least of all me.

As my father’s son, I was mostly free to do whatever I wanted and generally, I did. When Julian was gone, I was to take his place, ruling over the demons and human inhabitants of the Second and Third Realms. I wanted the extra power my birthright afforded; no one would be able to kill me.

In times past, the position meant instigating wars, encouraging debauchery, and reveling in the destruction and entertainment that ensued, contributing to our sustenance. As humans evolved, multiplying more than ever before, that became more difficult and alternate means of feeding off humans’ sin was employed. This led to the company that Ilya helped me build, which in turn led to a more peaceful and convenient existence for all.

And to us becoming lazy—and to taking humans as lovers versus solely engaging in relationships with our own kind. In addition to generally being more attractive, human women tasted better, were more fulfilling, and infinitely more fun with a vast range of emotions to prey upon.

The same spiritual connection was never present with our own females. My relationship with Samara, while wonderful by demon standards, never compelled me in the same way the cyan-eyed creature staring at me from her bedside did.

My father’s threat hung over my head. It was true I’d failed with Kiara, letting the magic source go. She’d died anyway; without the benefit of extracting her wellspring of sorcery, and I’d deprived Ilya of a woman he’d claimed and who had been promised to him since birth. The only thing I could think of was she’d been intended for the use of joining together Lucian’s and Victor’s kingdoms through marriage. I’d never spoken to Ilya about it, having no interest in the affairs of the two symbolic kings.

Politics was more Stefan’s field than mine, seeing as he’d been a councilman for Lucian and highly educated in the appropriate subjects. He reveled in the games people played while I enjoyed a more physical touch.

I’d spent the last several hundred years since my wife’s death either sequestered in one of my homes or in a blind rage taking out my vengeance by wreaking havoc on unsuspecting humans.Until Kiara’s birth—when I found my focus and took her away from those who’d murdered Samara.

Julian demanded I find another source knowing full well it was a fool’s mission. It would be hundreds of years before another was born and only if the universe decided one should be.

“Ramone? Are you okay?” Samantha remained where she was, seated on the edge of the bed, looking at me imploringly.

I couldn’t leave her. I wouldn’t. Now that I had her almost where I wanted, there was no question as to whether I’d let her go. There never had been, rather, the instinct to force her by my side grew even stronger. “Yes,” I ground out, gritting my teeth.

She moved as if to get up and then changed her mind. “You don’t look all right.”

Her aura was still dimmed, and the weight of the sight pressed down on my heart. I didn’t know how to fix her spirit or address the muted essence of her soul. Carefully placing the glass sphere on her dresser, I approached the bed. “Everything will be all right,” I said, not trusting my own words. I grabbed the bottle from her and set it beside the ball.

“Can we talk about what happened?” She gazed up at me. “Please tell me more about that place. How are you able to do that?”

Her fear, while not overwhelming, scented the air while her hands trembled slightly. She attempted to disguise the shaking, wringing her hands and then tucking them under her thighs. There was no way to tell her I wasn’t human, not without terrifying her utterly, and destroying any discussion on the matter. If this was going to work, I had to let her know. But not right now. First, I needed to claim her in every way.

She was so beautiful. Her tiny human form, balanced on the edge of the mattress, bright shining eyes peering up at me, waiting to see what was next. She wanted to trust me; it was obvious.

Stepping directly in front of her, I nudged her legs apart. “I think I’ll show you instead.” Her lips parted a fraction of an inch, and her fragrance filled my senses, the deep heady scent of the blood-red flowers I’d associated with her. Samantha was my entire universe and she always would be.

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