“Believe me, I’ve tried. But he’s not done having his fun just yet. I think we’ll wear him down soon enough,” he replies with a wink.
I’m just about to open my mouth to … shit. What would I say? How can I tell them to back the hell off without jeopardizing my stance as their ruthless, philandering prince? And without dispelling the rouse and revealing who I truly am and what I truly want?
I look around at the jovial faces, talking over crystal glasses of fine bourbon and wine. Outside of Aurora, these are the people I have spent everyday with for the last several decades with. My so-called friends. They don’t know me. None of them do. Not even Nadia who genuinely cares for me like her own family. Not even Varshaun who has been my wingman and right hand for longer than a human lifetime. We’ve fought together, killed together … hell, we’ve even fucked together. Still, he has no clue of the conflict boiling right beneath surface. He doesn’t know that I struggle with this…with what I am. He doesn’t know that most days, I dance with death only to feel some semblance of life. That my hunger for power is as deep and real as is my guilt and shame.
“Don’t tell me Little Skotos has gotten attached,” Aurora jibes, placing a perfectly manicured hand on my chest. “Not the guy that screwed over half the continental US during the 60s. Surely they’re mistaken.”
I flash a devilish grin and lift a dark brow, ready to defend my sullied reputation when movement from over Aurora’s head catches my eye. Amelie’s eyes are wide and shining with unshed tears, her perfect mouth in a tight line. A tray of food visibly shakes in her trembling hands. Following my line of vision, Aurora turns her head slowly, her cold, piercing gaze sweeping the length of Amelie’s body. She turns back to me, wearing a mocking grin, awaiting my reaction.
“Ah, Little Skotos, looks as if the whores are getting comfortable around here. You may need to crack the whip a bit harder. Which I’m sure you’ll enjoy.”
I clutch Aurora’s hand hard enough for the bones to crack and remove it from my shirt. She winces as my eyes meet hers, my steely glare blazing with ire. “There’s nothing little about me, Aurora. But of course, you wouldn’t know that seeing as I’ve rejected every one of your feeble advances.” I move in even closer, so close that the iciness of my voice damn near leaves frost on her diamond studs. “And if you ever call her a whore again, I’ll cut your fucking tongue out and stuff it up your sagging pussy. Now if you’ll excuse me…”
I brush past her without another word, striding in the direction of Amelie’s retreating back. She nearly sprints to my room – to our room – before setting down the tray and turning to face me.
“Amelie, I…”
She holds up a hand and shakes her head. “Don’t bother. You don’t owe me an explanation. You don’t owe me anything.”
“But I do. I owe you more than I could ever give you. I owe you the truth.”
“The truth?” Her brow furrows and she places a hand on her narrow hip. “I thought that’s what you had been giving me this entire time. At least that’s what you promised when I vowed to be totally truthful with you. So what? That was all a lie?”
I sit down at the foot of the bed and pat the empty space beside me. “I have. At least as honest as I could be. Please. Let me explain.”
Amelie sits on the bed though two feet separate our bodies. A few weeks ago, that wouldn’t have bothered me. But now … now that I know what it feels like to have her body tucked into mine, my arms encircling her small frame, possessing her, it feels too far away. I didn’t even realize how much of a permanent fixture she had become in my life. How easy it was to fall into familiarity with her. How natural the burn underneath my fingertips had grown every time we touched. I crave it. It signifies the fire between us - the unmistakable heat that will never, ever die.
She draws her knees up against her chest and wraps her arms around them. Much like she did the first time she woke up in my bed. She’s afraid. Afraid of me.
“I need to explain why I asked you if anyone knew about you. And why no one can know about us…about how I feel.”
“How you feel?” Her voice is breathy and light, almost a whisper.
“Yes,” I nod. “But I need to tell you something first. And if you still want to know more, I’ll tell you. Ok?”
She nods and I take that as my cue to scoot closer beside her, taking her hands in mine. “Amelie, the Dark, the Skotos especially, have been sworn enemies of the Laveaus for decades. Many, many years ago, they ruled Louisiana. They were the most influential family in the gulf and held a great amount of power for human witches, something virtually unheard of. Throughout history, my kind has had to intervene when certain clans have grown too large or too powerful. But the Laveaus…they wouldn’t back down, especially after Marie was eliminated. Her family - your family – vowed to avenge her death.”
Amelie’s large, sparkling eyes urge me to go on. I brush a lock of hair behind her ear before bringing her hands to my lips, inhaling shallowly. “At my father’s command, we tried to kill them all. What history books call the Cheniere Caminanda Hurricane of 1893, the deadliest storm to ever plague Louisiana, was the work of the Dark. It was a deliberate massacre that killed even innocent women and children. The Laveaus had grown like a cancer, and the Dark fought to snuff them all out. However, some survived and went underground, so every few years, we do it again. Until every last one is gone.”
A tiny whimper escapes her chest, and she claps a hand over her mouth, fighting tears. “No,” she cries, her hand muffling her plea. “Don’t say that. I won’t believe it!”
I pull her into my chest and place my lips at the crown of her head, though she tries to fight against me. I just want to hold her. I need to. It may be the last time I ever kiss the sun. “I’m sorry, baby. I am. I didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“Why? How could you?” Her tears flow freely, yet I resist the urge to taste them. I won’t do that to her. I won’t let her see what a sick fuck I truly am. “I don’t understand. Help me understand why!”
“Housekeeping.” I don’t know any other way to say it. No matter how badly I want it to be a lie, the truth is as ugly and abhorrent as it has ever been. And it’s my truth. My ugliness.
“Can you stop it?” she asks, looking up at me with pleading eyes. “Please, innocent people are dying. Their homes, their lives! You can fix this, right?”
“I wish I could. I was sent here to monitor paranormal activity in the area. Anytime there is a rise in the use of magic, it’s my job to report it. So we can prepare…”
“…To kill more people. To destroy my city.” She pulls away from me and gives me her back.
“I need your help, Amelie.”
“My help?” She spins to glare at me, those amber eyes gleaming with anger. “You want me to help you? After you just admitted to sending hurricanes to demolish my home?”
“Yes,” I nod, swallowing around a knot in my throat. “Because if you don’t, something will happen. Something bad. And if you help me, we can avoid more destruction.”
“Fine,” she huffs out. “Tell me what you need.”
I take a deep breath, reluctant to conjure memories of Amelie’s face distorted in repugnance. “There’s been a surge in magic. Necromancy to be exact. And it reeks of Laveau Voodoo. Necromancy itself is grounds for action…for mass extermination.”
I wait for her to object, but she just continues to stare at me, the warmth in her eyes extinguished. I continue. “The other night, while you were sleeping, you had a nightmare. I tried to wake you because you were frightened, and when I did, something – someone - had taken over your body. It had possessed your soul and tongue. It spoke to me.”
“Wha … what? Possessed? What are you talking about?”
“Black magic, Amelie. The Laveaus know that I have you. And something tells me that they want to use you as a vessel, to have you do their bidding.”
“That’s crazy talk,” she refutes, shaking her head.
“Amelie, listen to me,” I command, grasping her shoulders. “They are willing to sacrifice you to exact revenge. They know you’ll be slaughtered and they don’t give a damn. I won’t let that happen, Amelie. I swear it. I can’t lose you. Now that I’ve found you … I can’t lose you.”
Her lips tremble as she brushes my cheek with her palm. “Ok. I believe you. Just tell me what I need to do.”
I tell her more about necromancy and its history among the Laveaus. I share with her the clues left around town, even information only my inner circle is made aware of. She listens intently, nodding, trusting me as I trust her. I tell her everything, even the parts that cause my chest to ache with shame. She listens, squeezing my hand, and looking at me with understanding and forgiveness.
I don’t deserve this girl. I’ll never earn the right to hear her laughter or to possess the goodness of one of her smiles. Or to feel those soft lips caressing mine. Even knowing this, I want her. I need her.
We lay side-by-side like we do every night, facing each other as the trees outside my window cast shadows across her face.
“You never did tell me how you feel,” she whispers, her eyes heavy with exhaustion.
“Do you want me to tell you now?”
“No,” she replies with a small yawn. “No, you don’t have to tell me. Just show me.”
I close the inches between us and wrap her in my arms, burying my lips in her wildflower-scented hair. She snuggles into my chest and sighs. I can feel every bone in her body relax in slumber.
I’ll show her. I’ll save her. Because I love her.
“Where are we going?”
I look over from the driver’s seat and wink, causing a blush to paint Amelie’s cheeks. “You’ll see. Patience, love.”
“Fine,” she replies, folding her arms across her chest. “Would have been nice if you would’ve at least told me how to dress. I must look ridiculous sitting in such an expensive car, looking like a pauper.”
“Nonsense,” I reply. And I mean it. Even dressed in tight jeans and a loose fitting sweater, Amelie looks incredible sitting in the passenger seat of my vintage Ferrari. She shrugs, and the sweater slides off one of her shoulders, revealing bare, mouthwatering skin. I don’t even think twice before I reach over to run my fingers from her collarbone to her arm, making her shiver. “Absolutely beautiful.”
“You’re insane,” she giggles. “You’re around naked chicks every single day. They’re ready to spread ‘em on command. I know I’m no ogre, but, hell, sex appeal is not really in my repertoire.” She shrugs again, and the sweater slips down further, exposing the swell of one full, naked breast. Fuck. She isn’t wearing a bra.
“Are you trying to make me lose my damn mind and crash my favorite car? You have no idea how fucking sexy you are.”
“Whatever.”
“Seriously. I can’t even describe it. Naked chicks are a dime a dozen in my profession. But you…you could make a burlap sack look obscene on your body.”
She shakes her head and looks out the window. “It’s fine, Niko. You don’t have to lie. You forget that I know how you are. How often you…have sex. You aren’t exactly subtle when it comes to that stuff. But with me…nothing. I mean, you’re sweet, and gentle, and romantic, and I love all that stuff. But I know I must not turn you on like that. I’ve been sleeping beside you for weeks in skimpy nightgowns, and you haven’t looked once.”
I pull the car over into the parking lot of a pawn shop, and my lips are moving against Amelie’s not even two seconds after the car is in park. My tongue tangles with hers in a rough, aggressive dance, desperate to taste every bit of her. When I pull away, I take her hand and mold it to hardness in my groin, drawing a gasp from her lips.
“Do you feel that? Do you see what you do to me? You did that, Amelie. It’s you that has me so rock hard that I can barely think straight. You and only you. If this doesn’t tell you how badly I want you, I don’t know what will.”
Amelie’s face is beet red with a mixture of fiery passion and bashfulness. But even after I remove my hand from on top of hers, she still grips my dick, kneading it gently through my slacks. I let out a low hiss between my teeth and let my head fall back on the seat.
“Damn, Amelie. Touch me, baby,” I rasp, my voice thick with lust.
Amelie licks her lips before running her fingers over my entire length. Her eyes dance with excitement and hunger, and I can hear her heartbeat pound faster with every timid stroke. The heat of her hand seeps through the fabric of my pants, causing the throb to evolve into an ache. I reach over and run my thumb along her lush bottom lip. The very tip of Amelie’s pink tongue darts out to taste it.
The fire in her eyes, the scent of her arousal that flavors the air between us, her blood racing in her veins with anticipation… I know that Amelie wants this. She wants me. Even after everything I’ve told her, everything she’s seen flash across her subconscious when she closes her eyes, she’s still drawn to me like a moth to a flame. Her nipples harden underneath the veil of her sweater, free and unrestricted without the coverage of a bra. Her breath quickens as she feels me pulsing underneath her fingertips. Her mouth waters as she imagines my taste, my feel.
I could give her what she wants, right here and now in this abandoned parking lot. I could recline her seat and bury myself in her tight body and make those dreams a reality. But I won’t. Amelie is better than that, and she deserves more than some quick fuck in my car. She deserves tenderness and care. She deserves for me to love her heart and mind, as well as her body.
“We should get going,” I mutter, hating the words even as I say them. I gently grasp her hand and bring it up to my lips, kissing every fingertip before placing it in her lap. Amelie lets out a half groan in response, or maybe in protest, of losing the heaviness of my erection in her hand. Still, I turn and force my eyes back on the road, though I’m almost dizzy with wanting her so damn bad.
Several minutes later, we pull up to a wrought iron gate located in the outskirts of town. Luckily, blood flow has returned to my extremities and I’m able to focus on punching in the key code and maneuvering my way down the long, winding dirt path.
“Where are we?” Amelie asks, seeing the makings of a large plantation-style home through the trees.
I wait until the entire grand estate is in view, before answering. “My house.”
Amelie’s eyes grow large and bright with wonder. “This is your house? You live here?”
“Yeah,” I answer, guiding the car around the fountain in the driveway before coming to a halt. I glance at her awestruck expression as she takes it all in. “Wanna see the rest?”
Amelie nods excitedly. “Yes! Yes, please.”
Before she draws her next breath, I’m outside her door, clicking it open and offering her my hand. She shakes her head, and takes it, a playful smile on those perfect, crimson lips. “Show off,” she teases.
We make our way up the stairs and through the front door, entering the grand foyer that’s immaculately decorated with artwork and tapestries from as early as the Renaissance. Amelie is nearly giddy with curiosity, her eyes and hands eager to explore every inch of the Greek Revival home.
“If you have this house, why the hell do you stay in the city? I mean, it’s nice there too, and nearly as large, but this place … this is spectacular.”
I shrug although I know she can’t see me, as she studies one of the many paintings. “Honestly? It’s more convenient to stay in the city. I need to stay on top of things to ensure everyone is taken care of. Plus … I don’t want to be alone. Even amongst all these treasures, the house seems empty. Lonely. And I hate it.”
Amelie turns to face me, sympathy etched in her soft features. “You’re not alone.” She squeezes my hand and smiles, filling me with comforting warmth. “Even before you even knew I existed, I was with you. A spectator, but I was with you just the same.”
I pull her into my arms, yet stop just before our lips meet. “Why are you so good to me? How
can someone so beautiful care for a monster like me?”
“You’re not a monster. No matter what you are, you could never be a monster.”
I kiss her like she’ll disappear in a puff of smoke. As if she is a mythical creature, birthed into an ugly world of disease and pain, sent here to bring beauty to the devastation. Sent here to smother the dark desolation with brilliant, golden light.
“I want to show you the house,” I breathe, my lips still brushing hers. “But I have to admit, all I’m thinking about is the bedroom.”
She giggles and nuzzles her nose against mine. “You’ve had me all to yourself in a bedroom for weeks. Show me your palace, my prince.”
I give her the grand tour, opting to leave the master suite for later. I know that once I lock her in there, she’ll never leave, not if I have anything to say about it. We end sometime later in the kitchen.
“The staff is off for the weekend but my cook left some food for us,” I say, opening up the refrigerator and removing a wrapped platter. “Hungry?”
“I’m always hungry,” Amelie replies with a wicked grin. The possibility that her appetite is for something else entirely causes my dick to twitch and I almost drop the dish of assorted meats, cheeses and olives. Shit. How long has it been? Weeks? A month? How am I even able to walk straight?
We sit at the marble-top island, talking and laughing over finger food and wine while watching the sunset through the floor to ceiling windows, wall-size windows.
“This is amazing,” Amelie breathes, as the setting sun casts hues of pinks and oranges across her face. “I don’t understand why you would ever leave this place. It’s like a museum, but it feels like … home.”
I reach out to grasp her hand, drawing her attention to my earnest expression. “I wouldn’t, if I had a reason to stay.”
“This beautiful home would be reason enough for me,” she shrugs.
“I’m glad you said that. Because that’s exactly what I’m hoping for.”
A cute little crease dimples her forehead in confusion. “What do you mean, Niko?”