Games Demons Play (Mystic Isle, Book 3)

Selena Blake

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Bugatti Veyron and Bugatti Grand Sport are ™
by Bugatti Automobiles S.A.S.

Ferrari is a ™ of Ferrari S.p.A. 

This book is a work of fiction. Any
resemblance to persons, living or dead, places or events is purely
coincidental. Characters, events, and organizations within this
work are products of the author's imagination and are used
fictitiously unless otherwise stated above and do not imply
endorsement.

To Jessie O’Brien. Thank you for answering
all my casino questions.

“Hello, Gorgeous.” Izzy Lukin trailed the
edge of her index finger down the flawless black paint. The Bugatti
Veyron could have been a man, she lusted for it so.

“Who are you talking to?” Avery’s voice
echoed in Izzy’s ears thanks to her iPhone’s earbuds.

“No one,” Izzy said quickly,
snatching her hand back.

The dim light in the garage
made the sleek sports car extra seductive. Like a woman… bathed in
candlelight. But a woman did not come with twelve hundred
horsepower. Or a body with enough contours it could have been a
world-class bodybuilder. And a gleaming paint job that called to
Izzy like a droplet of blood.

Like all vamps, she was
attracted to shiny, sparkling things, and the coal black car in
Valencia’s garage certainly glittered. Especially since Izzy had
opened the enormous garage door, letting the pale beams of light
from the full moon dance through the space.

“You're not doing what I
think you're doing?” Avery asked. Avery, the raven-haired American
beauty with the exotic Asian features, was fast and loose with men,
but when it came to coven rules, she might as well have been a
nun.

“Of course not. I was only talking to her.”
Talking. Lusting.
Her
being Gorgeous, the car.

“I still think it’s
crazy-sauce that V nicknames her cars,” Avery replied. As a former
Olympian and sports therapist, Avery was practical. Analytical. She
was not particularly fantastical. At least not in the two years
Izzy had known her.

Izzy, on the other hand, had
an impulsive streak as wide as the English Channel. She loved that
Valencia, cool-as-the-Siberian-winter, gave her cars names. If she
were ever able to buy a car like Gorgeous, she’d give it a sexy
name too.

“She nicknames her jewels as
well,” Izzy reminded, bringing up one of Avery’s favorite topics.
The vampiress might be practical, but her love of fine jewelry ran
deep. It was Avery who single-handedly pushed Valencia into opening
a chain of jewelry stores.

“Well, honey,” Avery
drawled, “if I had stones like hers, I'd name ’em too.”

Izzy’s thought
exactly.

“I will be back before
sunup. Do not worry about me.” Turning away from the car, she
clutched the collection of hangers with her left index finger and
tossed the garments over her shoulder.

“I still don't understand
why you don't let the butler take care of your dry
cleaning.”

Avery didn't mind being
waited on. Izzy had not gotten used to it. And besides, sometimes
she just needed her space. “I like to get out of the house.”
Despite the enormous mansion and surrounding land, she still got
restless sometimes and needed to be out among people. It was
probably because she grew up in a big city where you could not move
without rubbing shoulders with your neighbor.

Izzy glanced at the gleaming
motorcycle Valencia had given her on the one-year anniversary of
the night she’d been turned. Jet-black with sparks of chrome. A
beast of a machine that purred between her thighs.

But it wasn’t the
Bugatti.

Against her better judgment,
she glanced back at the car and a tendril of desire snaked through
her body. What would it be like to drive such a precision machine?
She could almost feel the bucket seats curving around her, hugging
her, cupping her ass like tight denim. Like the ultimate
caress.

Over the top of the car, 
Izzy spied the shadow box containing keys to all the cars in
the garage.
 Normally, Izzy drove her motorcycle or if
she needed a car, she drove Lucifer, the Mercedes. But right there
for the world to see… The keys to the Bugatti dangled off the
distinctive silver key ring that bore the company
logo. 
Did she dare?

“Do not wait up.” As she hit
the button on the phone to disconnect the call she heard Avery call
her name. There was no way for Avery to make it from her room to
the garage in time to stop Izzy. Unless she
flashed
.

Valencia would never know.
She was in New York City for fashion week, Izzy reasoned with
herself. She would have Gorgeous back in her stall by sun
up.

Desire drove her to the
keys. She was careful with the hangers as she laid her dry cleaning
in the passenger’s seat. The fine leather interior smelled divine
and a surge of excitement shot through her. Sitting in a Bugatti,
surrounded by the cozy-yet-sleek interior, was like coming
home.

Like finding the perfect
pair of shoes. Just the right color. Just the right heel height.
Just the right fit.

The engine roared, then
purred.
 A tremor quaked through Izzy’s body as she
adjusted the mirrors. The car was ridiculously expensive. The kind
of money that very few people could afford. People like her father.
Like Valencia. Her fingers wrapped around the steering wheel and
she felt a flush similar to an oncoming orgasm. Perfection was in
the details and this automobile was worth every penny.

Breathless, she pulled into the courtyard and
flipped on the lights. It was not often that Izzy got butterflies
of excitement in her stomach. Being wrapped in this glorious car
was one of those times.

Smiling, she stepped on the gas.

The gas pedal was sensitive, just as she’d
expected. It would be so easy, too easy, to release the power. To
accelerate across the countryside and experience the automobile as
it was meant to be driven. Full on, without restraint.

Too easy.

When she rolled to a stop on the outside of
town she looked at the sign across the road. An invisible power
urged her to let the horses beneath the hood run free. Fast and
far, unbridled.

Left to town. Right… to Germany. To the
Autobahn.

Glancing in the rearview mirror, she realized
there was one more direction she could go. Back.

Home to the mansion. Put Gorgeous away. Get
in Lucifer and do the smart thing. The boring thing.

Drive.

Not for the first time in her life she felt
helpless, powerless against the unknown pull. Drawing her away from
what she knew was the smart decision. The temptation was so strong
she felt like she was not really inhabiting her body. Just a
passenger along for the ride.

Drive.

She turned right.

A speed-limitless stretch of highway wasn’t
that hard to find. Gorgeous answered every request for power and
precision. Each time she shifted gears, Gorgeous threw Izzy deeper
into the seat. And into love. The power was like a full body blow,
but the leather seat broke her fall. Izzy lovingly stroked the
steering wheel and spoke to the car in her native tongue.

The dial on the dashboard skipped past one
hundred. One-twenty. One-thirty. Gorgeous wasn’t even straining.
This car had been created for this road, Izzy was sure of it. And
as she accelerated, the car dropped down, clinging to the road with
a finely engineered mastery. Before her the road was wide open,
curving gently, beckoning.

Deserted.

At one-sixty-five Izzy let out a yip of pure
glee. She’d bet her favorite boots that Valencia had never let
Gorgeous run like this.

A pair of headlights appeared in her rearview
mirror, skipped to the driver’s side mirror and then disappeared. A
red flash passed her on the left and disappeared down the road.

Frowning, she gritted her teeth and pressed
the accelerator harder. The engine gave her what she wanted. More
power. More speed. One-seventy. One-eighty. One-ninety.
Two-fifteen. At two hundred and thirty-five kilometers an hour, she
saw the taillights of the Ferrari.

“You are mine,” she said out loud.

Gorgeous gave another burst of speed, her
tires gripping the road like she was on rails. At two-sixty, she
breezed by the Ferrari. Though she doubted the driver could see,
she lifted a hand and gave a little
see-ya-later
wave.

The Bugatti was the fastest street-legal car
in the world. Top speed of two hundred and sixty-seven miles per
hour. There was something undeniably, irreplaceably sexy about
being the very best. Driving the very best. Having the very best.
To Izzy, that was the ultimate aphrodisiac.

If that guy wanted a race, he was going to
lose.

She smiled when she saw his headlights in her
rearview mirror again. The Ferrari crossed into the left lane and
pulled up next to her. It certainly was an incredible automobile.
And he was a smooth driver, she’d give him that. At least, she
assumed the driver was male.

High on the power, the speed, she pressed the
gas pedal a little further. The Ferrari matched her speed. A little
more. Same result. Faster still. Faster until her heart was in her
throat.

She let her foot off the gas. Gorgeous
slowed. Izzy glanced at the dash. Damn. Dawn wasn’t too far
away.

“It is time to go home,” she told the car,
regretting that she could not stay out all day. One day she’d be as
old as Valencia and could come and go as she pleased. Maybe one day
she’d be as wealthy as Valencia and could afford a car like
this.

She took the next exit, crossed over, and
pointed the car toward home. If she hurried, she’d get her dry
cleaning dropped off and be back in the garage with plenty of time
to wipe Gorgeous down.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute
later that the red Ferrari eased up next to her again. This time
the passenger window was rolled down.

She’d been right. The driver was male. But
more than that, he was big. She glanced his way again. What was it
Avery called them? An uber hottie? Yes, that was it.

This uber hottie knew how to drive. Izzy
found that very sexy.

If he was this handsome in uneven dashboard
light, what would he look like across the table from her? Or better
yet, in her bed?

She didn’t have time to imagine it. Gorgeous
came up on a car and Izzy steered right. The Ferrari veered left.
They passed the car and met up on the other side.

Obviously, he wasn’t in a hurry to be
anywhere since he’d turned around to follow her. She reached down
and pressed the button for the driver’s window. A loud bang echoed
through the cab and Gorgeous jerked right. Izzy clutched the wheel.
Gorgeous spun across the pavement. Then she rolled.

Something wet was trickling into her eye.

“Oh…” She moaned.

“I’ve got you,” a deep, masculine voice
rumbled in her ears.

She tried to open her eyes. Her head pounded.
Too much light. Was it morning already? Panic bolted through her
and she struggled.

He murmured something in German. Then,
“You’re going to hurt yourself,” the voice said again. Big hands
held her wrists captive.

“Impossible,” she murmured.

“Don’t move.”

The words sent a fresh tendril of fear
through her. Not again. No. Not again. Fear. 

Struggle. Scream.
Coco’s voice echoed
through her mind.
Scream. Fight.

For the briefest of seconds, Izzy took stock
of her injuries. Nothing felt broken. She opened her eyes and threw
her arms out at the same time, breaking the man’s hold. He tumbled
backward, clutching his nose, cussing.

Eyes wide, she sprang to her feet. She had to
get to shelter. She had to get out of the sun.

“Jesus, woman!”

The man from the car.

It was still dark.

But, how—oh no. No. “No. No. No. No. No!”

She stumbled up the hillside to where
Gorgeous lay, upside down, her windshield gaping open. Bits of her
lay scattered on the slope. A fender. A side mirror.