Forged in Fire (29 page)

“You want me first, baby? I’m more than happy to oblige.”

My head buzzed from the punch across the head. I felt my body being flipped onto my back. Hard, cold hands fumbled up my dress. My instincts launched me out of the stupor. I struggled, jerking my knee up toward his groin. He narrowly blocked me. This was the worst position to be in for defense—on your back with someone much larger than you clambering on top. I couldn’t punch out, so I grabbed his hair and yanked. He gripped my throat and slammed my head against the ground.

“You wanna play rough? Not a problem.”

He fumbled with his pants with one hand, the other tight on my throat. I bent my leg up so that the slit in my dress opened. A look of confusion crossed his face, flushed hot with anger and lust. He thought I was inviting him to continue. Panic retreated. Hatred—cold and stealthy clamped down on me with a venomous bite. My fingers slid along my thigh. Nathaniel stared stupidly, starting to grin, feeling triumphant in a sure conquest. I refused to let my gaze shift from his as my right hand found the dagger. Before he could register what I held, I put the ball of my left hand behind the hilt and thrust the dagger hard and deep up into his chest. I stabbed only once, but he slumped forward instantly on top of me.

Trembling with fury and fear, I shifted his weight off, flipping and sliding out from under him. Pulling out the dagger, slick with blood, I put it back into its sheath, my movements robotic, the acrid taste of hatred still bitter on my tongue. I’d hit him directly in the heart. A pool of crimson spread across his white tuxedo shirt on the left side of his chest. His eyes and mouth gaped wide in a frozen expression of shock, unmoving. Dead. He was dead. So quick, so fast.

I sat back, staring at my hands in horror, shining wet and black under the moonlight. An uncontrollable quivering shook me from head to toe. I hadn’t intended to kill him. The thought of what he was going to do had driven me into a madness of fury. My breath came out in quick white breaths, the temperature dropping rapidly.

A billowing, cool mist floated around the body, Mindy and me. I whimpered, bloody hands in my lap, shaking uncontrollably. It was not a natural mist. The dread making my heart hammer with violent force inside my rib cage grabbed hold of me with icy fingers.

“No,” I cried, like a child in the dark.

“Mmmmm, my sweet.” A sinister whisper, so horrifyingly familiar, rose from the coalescing shadows in the gloom. “Bloodstained hands. My darling is wonderfully
tainted
.”

A wicked laugh I knew from the darkest of nightmares snapped my chin up to see Danté walking sinuously toward me, the supernatural mist curling around his legs in a cold caress.

Chapter Twenty-Five

What had I done? The sparkle of triumph in ice-gray eyes taught me a new definition of fear. I couldn’t move, paralyzed in shock, as he drew closer with slow, deliberate steps, sliding through the mist like a serpent.

“Wrath is an awfully deadly sin, my sweet.”

“What do you”—my breath was coming out in quick white puffs, the temperature having plummeted in minutes—“do you mean by that?”

I knew the answer, but still, I thought, hoped that maybe I was in a nightmare, that this wasn’t real. When you talk to the monsters in your dreams, they sometimes go away. The beautiful monster crouched right in front of me, his golden hair glinting silver under the moonlight.

“But I-I was defending myself, my friend,” I protested, trying to justify what I’d done.

Danté shook his head back and forth as if to chastise a naughty child.

“Tsk, tsk, Genevieve. You cannot lie to a supreme liar. I felt it,” he cooed, eyes shining darkly, “I can still feel it now. Pure unbridled loathing pumping through your lovely veins. You didn’t want him to simply stop. You wanted him dead for what he would do to you and to her. So the savage beast called Revenge seduced you to do her bidding. And, oh, my sweet, you did it so well.”

Untainted heart, hands and body.
Oh God. I could feel the malevolent sin of hatred and murder wrapping around my heart, clouding my Vessel power to a dim glow. This was what it meant to be tainted, to let the darkness in. It crawled into the very corners of my being, whispering. The trembling in my hands spread to the rest of my body.

“Thanks, friend. Much obliged.”

Danté spoke to the corpse off to my right. I refused to look at those sightless, accusing eyes. Something in his voice spread a chill straight through me.

“You knew him,” I whispered, tears stinging my eyes.

“Oh yes. Nathaniel and I made a little deal, and I must say he kept up his end of the bargain.”

“What bargain?” My voice came out in a hushed whisper, the truth dawning slowly in a cold, sickening wave. I’d been tricked, trapped.

“Nathaniel, being the lusty fellow that he is”—he paused, laughing—“was—had a predilection for petite women. I promised him a most succulent peach and that he’d never go to prison for it. In return, he only had to be sure you would find them together. He didn’t mind voyeurism, rascal that Nathaniel was and so you see, he kept his end of the bargain, and so have I. He’s certainly not going to prison.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. I thought I was going to vomit. Then I heard Danté’s voice much closer.

“You are the most stunning creature, Genevieve.” My eyes snapped open. He had edged much closer, lifting the braid along the left side of my face, and smoothed it along his smiling lips. After a second of gazing, he dropped it lightly. “So unbelievably beautiful with fresh sin painted thick on your hands.”

I gazed down at them, quivering in my lap, covered in Nathaniel’s blood. Danté picked up my wrist delicately. Truly, I was in shock, for I could do nothing but watch as he elevated my hand and drew my bloodiest finger into his mouth, sucking it clean in one long motion and staring into my soul.

“Your sin tastes so good, my sweet. Like a decadent dessert.” His mouth quirked into a wicked smile. “Or perhaps an aphrodisiac.”

That got me moving. I fell back, scrambling on my backside closer to Mindy. What was I thinking? I couldn’t get away. Before I could even think what to do next, Danté lunged forward, grabbed my ankle and yanked me hard. The friction with the ground hiked my gown up as he pulled me toward him. Frantically, I clawed at the grass and pushed my dress down at the same time, cold blades of fear spiking through my veins. He had both ankles now, hauling me back bodily, then pressed his full weight on top, pinning me facedown to the cold earth. He grabbed my forearms, keeping them still, and laughed in my ear.

“Hmm, this seems pleasantly familiar.” He ground himself into me and nuzzled my neck. I struggled to no avail, nearly choking on my own fear. “You’re right, my sweet. This is no place for an amorous encounter. We don’t want Nathaniel over there watching. Let us go where we can have some privacy.”

Then we were sifting. Clutched tightly from behind around the waist, I felt the suction and weightlessness of the Void. The roiling nausea gripped me at once as we descended. Gray shapes blurred around us. I closed my eyes to quell the nausea, but nothing would help. It wasn’t the Void that had my body revolting; it was being once again in the arms of sadistic Danté. I murmured a prayer the second before I felt my feet on solid ground.

Spinning away from him, I backed against a wall. I didn’t recognize this room but knew from the heavy air and slate-gray walls that I was in Danté’s castle. The room was carpeted in plush burgundy. The furnishings were sparse—a four-poster bed covered in red silk sheets, an ornate vanity with brushes and hair combs displayed, and a standing wardrobe near a changing screen. I stared wide-eyed at the bed, my heart sinking at the metal chains and cuffs linked to each post, heart pounding painfully. I skimmed over the wardrobe, trying not to see the abundance of sheer nightgowns in varying lengths. A fire crackled in a black-manteled fireplace. I shuddered at the sight of the white fur rug, identical to the one in his bedroom. I swallowed hard.

“Here we are, darling. This is your suite. Shall we get you into something more comfortable?”

He snapped his fingers. A wraithlike woman in a maid’s uniform appeared from nowhere, holding a slip of a black nightgown, the exact same one I wore the last time Danté had soul-sifted me. The night he’d possessed my soul and had nearly—

Calm down, Genevieve. Think. Think.

Danté propped one arm on the mantel, the other hand casually in his pocket as he watched me. I needed to leash this fear and think of a plan to get out of here. He hadn’t seen the weapon strapped around my thigh, or he would’ve taken it. I forced my expression into a blank slate, covering the inner turmoil bubbling in my gut.

“Come on, darling. While I do so like the Egyptian-goddess charade, it’s time we made this official.”

Danté leaned casually against the fireplace, but the hard look of lust in his gaze warned me he was at the breaking point. I gulped, staring at the zombielike creature with haunted yellow eyes like his slave Claudius, who I noticed was guarding the door. The zombie maid moved closer with the silky garment outstretched in her hands.

“I’m not changing in front of you.”

I was surprised, impressed how confident I sounded, the trembling gone from my voice. Danté managed a half smile.

“The blushing bride. Of course.”

He gestured to a changing screen in the corner near the bed. I took the nightgown and vanished behind the screen, which bore a tapestry of seven dragons, some roaring, some sleeping, some breathing fire.

I slipped out of my ball gown, removed the snake cuff on my arm and touched my fingers to the opal. I lifted and kissed the back of it where Jude reminded me who I was—the moon in the darkness,
his
moon in the darkness. The blood cast would keep Jude from saving me. I must save myself. I closed my eyes, clenching the opal, cool in my palm, a comforting talisman giving me the strength to do what must be done.

“Hurry, my sweet. I grow impatient.”

You bastard. I’ve got something for you all right. I slipped the black gown over my head, the silky clinginess more abrasive than when I was soul-sifted here. I reminded myself that I was here, body and soul, more powerful than before. Readjusting my strap and sheath to be sure it was hidden but in perfect position for my reach, I stepped out from behind the screen.

Danté stood in the middle of the room, bare-chested, wearing only black silk pajama pants. Man, did he have an obsession with silk. “Ah, Genevieve.” His gaze brightened with open hunger, meandering over my body, making my stomach churn. “Like mother’s milk.” I quelled the sickness with the thought of my dagger buried in his heart.

He disgusted me. I smiled. The golden demon sauntered closer. My heart skittered in a panic, but my mask stayed in place. I even managed an alluring light in my eyes. How? I don’t know. Something still and quiet guided me now. The horror and fear muffled by purpose—the fervent need to punish this beast and avenge myself.

“I don’t want an audience,” I said with dark sensuality, glancing at the maid and Claudius.

“Your wish is my command.”

Without saying a word, the two vanished into the walls. Literally. The door to my bedroom remained open. As he drew closer, I knew that I’d have to kiss him. I couldn’t let him put his mouth near my neck. He might bite, drain and weaken me. I needed my wits and strength. I needed to be in control.

“There now,” he whispered as if trying to quiet a frightened animal, slipping his arms around my waist to my back. “Isn’t this more pleasant than last time?”

I managed a small smile, anxious because his arms blocked me from getting to the dagger. He must’ve sensed it.

“Shhhhhh. It’s all right. We can go slow, my sweet. I can be gentle when you’re a good girl.”

His finger tipped my chin up. I marveled at how absolutely beautiful he was in perfect hard lines. The paradox was staggering, knowing what this mask of perfection concealed. I forced myself to be absolutely still as he leaned down to me. Cold breath, cold lips pressed hard, prying mine open. My body wanted to reject—kick, bash, slap. I kept steady, my mind calm.

“Oh, my sweet. I can’t wait to crawl under your skin again.”

Terror gripped me hard. He meant full possession, a violation of body and soul, one that would surely send me over the edge into madness. His slow affection transformed into something raw, rough. This was the Danté I remembered. His right hand pulled up the hem of the gown, squeezing my thigh opposite the dagger. I still couldn’t reach my weapon.

Take control, Genevieve.

As his hand drifted higher, I grabbed his wrist, pulling back to pierce him with sultry eyes.

“The bed,” I ordered.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He grabbed my hand as if I still might try to get away. A liar knew a liar. He might not have fully believed me just yet, but the one fatal flaw of so many men was ego. Vanity was an awfully deadly sin.

He tried to ease me back onto the bed. I shook my head, pushing him onto his back instead. His eyes sparked brightly, like lightning in a winter sky. Evidently, he was pleased with my idea. He spread himself out across the red silk, one arm propped casually behind his head, arrogant smile wide and confident. I crawled on all fours, up along his body till my knees straddled his pelvis. Running my hands slowly along his abdomen up across his chest, I did my best to lull him into a stupor. I leaned my upper body over his, moving closer as if to kiss him. But I didn’t. He’d gotten all the kisses he was going to get out of me. His eyes closed. I continued to pet, rubbing my hands back over his chest and down his torso. As I braced myself with one hand on his abdomen, my right hand unsheathed the dagger, raised it high and plunged it violently into the left side of his chest.

My body flew, knocked clear of the bed onto the floor. A gurgling shriek of rage had me scrambling to my feet, still clutching my dagger. Danté stood at the edge of the bed, staring at the wound seeping black blood. I’d hit him exactly where I’d hit Nathaniel, yet there was no real reaction. No fatal reaction.

Liquid crimson eyes pierced a chill straight through me. He laughed. I stood, legs apart, ready for him.

“I have no heart, Genevieve, so there’s no need to go for the vitals. It will do you no good.”

I watched as the wound slowly closed, healing instantly, though black fluid streaked across his chest where his fingers had touched. He circled toward me as I inched toward the door. He held out a hand, curling his fingers as one might summon a child.

“Come to me now. No more games.”

When I didn’t obey, he vanished, sifted directly behind me. I elbowed him hard enough to crack something and spun, swiping out with the dagger.

“
Flamma intus!
” I screamed, beckoning my VS that had felt dormant since I’d killed Nathaniel.

A dim flicker of inner power hummed down my arm and through the razor-edged steel as I sliced across his face, from ear to lip. He howled. I ran.

Disoriented, for I’d never seen this hall, I ran, bare feet slapping hard on the slate floor, not knowing how to get out. There were doors randomly placed along the hallway. I ran toward one, throwing it wide, and halted.

Creatures that might have once been human were chained to the wall by different limbs. Eyes yellow, hollow, seemingly lifeless glanced disinterestedly at me. They were in various stages of starvation. One small creature was no more than skeletal bones with a thin layer of papery gray skin. What was this? A torture chamber? No. It was cold punishment. A place to punish disobedient slaves who could not die. This was hell, one small room in one realm of it.

I ran again, knowing Danté was close behind. The hall seemed an endless path into gloom. I saw another door and thrust it open, screaming as one foot fell into endless air. The shock made me drop the dagger, which clattered to the stone floor of the hallway as my body swung over the abyss. I gripped the doorknob with both hands and clung to the edge of the entrance with one foot. I hung over impenetrable darkness falling away beneath me. The cold emptiness of a deep gulf stretched wide and far. Using leverage and my foot still crooked on the edge of the door, I managed to pull myself back into the hallway, slamming the door shut.

“Genevieve.” An echoing, singsong whisper. “I do so love a chase, but I’m in no mood anymore.”

I grabbed my dagger and kept running, now in a frantic state to find the stairs or some other way out. Sweaty strands of hair clung to my temples and neck.

A large door stood at the very end of the hall, the walls narrowing toward the iron-studded entrance. A special room. A way out? Opening more cautiously this time, I entered a vacant space, gray stone on every side, with six tall, rectangular windows—three on the left, three on the right. Wait. No. They weren’t windows exactly. I walked up to the first on the right, peering inside. Through the glass, I saw a cathedral-ceilinged room, walls and floors of white marble. A long red carpet led to, well, a throne. A throne of shining silver with clawed feet and arms. There was a second smaller one molded from sparkling gold. There was no one sitting on either throne, but two muscular, blackened demons with ghastly yellow eyes stood on either side, staring straight ahead, oblivious to me. The glass separating the room I was in from the other moved, shimmered. I lightly touched one finger to the surface and drew back. Ripples blurred the image for a few seconds, then righted itself. My finger felt wet but wasn’t.