Cleopatra's Return: A Paranormal/Vampire Romance (2 page)

Slender fingers pulled back the
concealing hood, and Cleo—who’d long ago shortened her name—shook her hair to free the sticking strands, a wild golden mane that contrasted nicely with her tanned skin. She’d ditched her ebony tresses a long time ago, loving this new age of perms and peroxide.

With a shake of her
fist at the ground below her feet, Cleo yelled, “I’ll be back, Lucifer. I earned my spot in Hell, and you know it.”

Silence answered her
, and she sighed. It figured that the one male in the whole world, or should she say known planes of existence, who wasn’t affected by her charms would be the Lord of Darkness himself. Not only that, but he kept blaming her for the riots her presence in Hades caused.

Like it was
her fault that the sight of her enflamed her followers and the lusts of males and demons alike? Alive, she’d boasted she was the living incarnation of the goddess Isis. In death, while she didn’t quite become a goddess in truth, no one could deny she wasn’t like the other damned souls in Hell.
I don’t care what Lucifer says, I am more than just another soul.
Of course, she’d not know that at first.

T
he first two thousand years of her descent into Hell hadn’t exactly allowed her to enjoy that unexpected aspect, what with her punishment for her sins and all.

In
a surprising twist to both her and Satan himself, while she’d done many vile things, some of her most violent acts had fallen under the category of good deeds by necessity. In other words, she got a free pass on some of her beheadings and strict rulings because they were considered required by her as ruler of Egypt to keep her people safe.

Who would have believed killing her brother before he could kill her would fall under the category
of self-defense? Then, in a twist her adversaries in Hell still screamed about, some of the nastiest crimes attributed to her were disproven by Lucifer. The look of incredulity when it was realized she hadn’t killed her sister on hallowed temple ground had made her stick her tongue out at the vast audience who’d attended her trial. As for the kiss she’d blown the loudest protestors, fuel on the fire, but oh so much fun.

She didn’t emerge completely unscathed
during her trial, after all, she had done some vicious things during her reign on earth. After spending a few hundred years receiving the lashes she’d earned—she’d learned not to scream with pain after the first decade—she served the rest of her time with grace, scrubbing the many latrines of Hell. Males were such pigs, she expected them to miss the seat. But the women? The things she found in their bathrooms boggled the mind and clogged the toilet.

Satan assigned her
the debasing position as a way of teaching her humility. Or as he explained, “Bitch, down here, you’re not a queen. You’re a nobody. And it’s time you learned you’re not a special fucking snowflake.”

Oh yes she was. S
he knew better, and so did those around her. Her supporters rallied around her and offered to do her chores for her as she watched and supervised. Even funnier, Satan couldn’t punish her for shirking her duties, not when he discovered she didn’t compel them to take over her punishment. They volunteered and even begged. 

Eventually, her years of repayment to humanity for her sins came to an end and she found herself free
, of a sort. While once human, in death she’d also become something more than the simple souls in Hell. Not a demon, not quite a goddess. She knew her state of existence baffled Lucifer, especially since, like a damned soul, she was bound to the confines of the nine circles of Hell. She lacked the magic to create a portal out, although she did finagle trips to the surface by calling in favors with her demon friends. Fun times where chaos and adventure often tagged along.

But, those trips broad side never lasted beyond a few weeks. Lucifer’s hunters always found her and brought her back.
Something about upsetting the balance, blah, blah, blah. She tended to tune him out when he got in to one of his lecture modes.

Besides, she didn’t mind her new home in Hell. She’d rebuilt her palace out of the molten rock, while enjoying the view of thousands of shirtless men sweating and laboring. She wielded power, not as much as the Lord himself, but damn close.
Which irritated him to no end. Especially when she threw a party at the same time as him and hers had more attendees.

Things were going well, too well.
As had always been the case in her life—and now death—things happened around her. And that was when the problems began.

Her
supporters, who were also fanatics—just check her Twitter following #lovequeencleo— petitioned for her to reign at Satan’s side as his queen, even though Satan himself was opposed. Actually, so was she for that matter. While Lucifer had a certain male charisma, and a decent bod, he was also a womanizing dick.

Fuck that. She wasn’t about to allow herself to get shackled to a controlling
, cheating jerk. She’d endured that enough while she lived.

However
, the movement to have her reign over the legions in Hell and the damned snowballed, so Lucifer did the only thing he could. He kicked her out. Declared her sentence fulfilled, took away her Hell membership, and gave her a one-way ticket to the surface—“And don’t come back.”

Being a contrary type of woman, Cleo didn’t see it as a gift, but rather a challenge.
You just wait, Luc, baby. I’ll find a portal back and when I do, if you thought I caused chaos before, then you’re in for a surprise.

Reminiscing would have to
wait, though, because the soft thud of footsteps approached. Friend or foe, it didn’t matter. She reached for her tungsten daggers, only they weren’t in their sheaths.

“Fuck and double fuck.”
She’d tossed the boomeranging knives when Satan’s guard came to fetch her. They’d lacked the time to return to her hands before her ignoble bum rush out of Hell.

Lovely
. Here she had a second chance at life, or unlife depending on how she looked at it, and it could all end in the next few minutes depending on whom she encountered.

Looking down at her feet, she cursed again
because she wasn’t even wearing stilettos. Nope, she’d gone for comfort with a pair of chunky heels. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time the odds were stacked against her, and she refused to remember how poorly those times had sometimes gone.

Pivoting
in the direction of the now-silent strangers, she smiled and tilted a hip. “Hello, boys. Looking for me?”

From the darkness a familiar f
igure emerged, braced on either side by hulking demonic muscle. Ugly fucking bastards with mottled gray skin, thick horns, and razor-sharp claws, but they were better looking than the guy they supported. Marc Antony, her vile ex, had found her again, and this time he’d brought friends.

“If it isn’t the
Whore Queen,” he sneered. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“
And Lucifer’s looking for you. He’s not happy you escaped again.” She actually had no idea what Lucifer thought. She just liked seeing the color leach from Marc’s face. Not an improvement.

Hades had not been kind to her former lover, and that was
an understatement. Marc looked like shit. His punishment in Hell had left its mark, and from what she’d heard, it wasn’t even close to being done.

Marc was such a bad, bad boy when he was alive.
She didn’t blame him for escaping when he got a chance, but for some stupid reason, each and every time, the bastard came sniffing for her blood.

“
He and his legion won’t find me. I’m too smart for those idiots in Hell. But don’t worry about me. I’m so glad I found you. I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time.”

She rolled her eyes.
“Geez, are you still bent about the whole I-killed-you-first thing? Get over it already.”

“Whore, because of you I’ve spent centuries being tortured.”

“Oh and my time in Hell was such a walk in the park? It was over two thousand years ago. Give it a rest already. You suffered, I suffered. We all suffered.”

“And yet here you are
, free to do as you wish, while I am still being punished when everything was your fault. You bespelled me with your body and forced me to do your evil bidding.”

A snort escaped her
. “Oh please. Don’t tell me you believe your own lies now. You and I both know you did a lot of bad shit. Don’t try and blame me. I freely admit to the things I’ve done, like killing you for instance. You know what’s funny though? Your death counted as a good deed, liberating the world from evil and all that.” She just couldn’t resist taunting him.

Marc’s face turned an interesting shade of purple
, and spittle flew when he yelled, “Kill the Whore Queen!”

Cleo
shook her head and tsked him like a naughty child. Marc really needed to learn some new curse words. His insults were so old—like BC old.

The
muscled gray demons—a breed she’d not encountered before in her time in the pit— came at her from two sides, and while they carried no visible weapons, long claws projected from their stubby fingers. If experience with demons had taught her anything, the claws were fucking sharp and, depending on their demonic caste, poisonous. Fevered, puking, and possibly dying wasn’t exactly the way she wanted to celebrate her first day of freedom on earth.

Instead of waiting for the
demonic duo to reach her, she darted toward the one on the left. It braced itself and held out its arms, waiting to grab her. At the last moment, she dropped to the ground and slipped under the demon in a slide that would have made a baseball coach drool but caused havoc on her buttery soft leather pants.
To think I had them broken in just right finally too.

She popped
to her feet behind the demon and landed two hard kicks on the back of its legs.
Crack
. The well-aimed shots made them buckle.

Lacing
her hands together, she swung them like a club at the back of the beast’s head, which threw it further off balance and into the path of the other demon charging her.

Crash. Down they tumbled in a heap of scaly limbs.
Awesome.

But she should
n’t celebrate so quickly.

An almost inaudible whistle, a sound she well knew from her practice with blades, came
from behind. She ducked just as Marc swung his sword in the space her head occupied.
He almost decapitated me.
Not cool. Having died once, she wasn’t sure what would happen the second time. Nor did she want to find out.

With the odds against her and
still weaponless, Cleo dashed toward the alley entrance. Hopefully she’d run into some human witnesses because, while Marc might lack a few important screws when it came to his mental health, even he wouldn’t dare break the prime rule—
Don’t let the mortals see us doing supernatural shit and keep the demons out of sight.

A
n unknown power, not of Heaven or Hell, took care of those who intentionally defied the unwritten law. A law she was now banking on.

A third demon appeared from the shadows
a few feet in from the exit of the alley and blocked her way.

“
Damn it.” This was not shaping up to be a good day.

The nasty chuckle at her back could have
only one source. How she’d love a chance to punch him in the mouth. If her tenure in Hell had taught her anything, it was how to defend herself, not just with armies and guards but also using her hands, feet, and a vast assortment of weapons. After her capture by Octavian, she’d vowed to never let a male control her by brute force again. She was happy to say she could hold her own when the fight was fair.

A pity her enemies didn’t play by any rules. Then again, neither did she.

With both ends of the alley blocked, she whirled halfway trying to keep everyone in sight. She took slow steps back in an attempt to use the brick wall of the building as a rear shield.

“There’s no escape
, my treacherous queen.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

Marc laughed. “So defiant even in the face of defeat. How I’m going to enjoy seeing you submit. Kneel before me and maybe I’ll let you suck my cock for old time’s sake before I take your head.”

“I’d rather
screw a zombie with a decaying dick.” Her insult hit the mark and enraged Marc even further if that was possible. Perfect. Angry men tended to make mistakes.

Growling in rage, Marc
Antony advanced on her flanked by his demons, and if she’d had money to lay a bet, she wouldn’t have wagered on herself. The situation seemed rather bleak.

Until
something unexpected happened.

From the night sky, a dark figure
dropped, landing between her and her enemies.

Friend or foe?

From her place behind him, all she could see was his back, which was wide and stretched the silken linen of the black shirt he wore. She couldn’t quite distinguish his hair color in the gloom, but the strands were long enough to brush the tip of his collar. A peek lower showed a scrumptious ass in tight jeans.