days ago, she’d just driven away from campus when an elderly man with blood dripping down his forehead begged for a ride to the hospital. Pity moved her to open the car door. There was a sting to her neck, then nothing.
When she had awakened from the drug, she was in this dark basement. Her captor had brutally beaten her, leaving her chained to the pillar. And then she’d collapsed into the grayness of sleep, and the sensual world she’d mentally created to save her sanity.
Now she knew that no one would save her. She was on her own.
A slight breeze stirred the air. Starshine and moonlight spilled through a partly opened window. She rattled her chains, trying to reach for it. She had not yet explored all her powers since they emerged ten days ago. Both angel and demon lurked in her soul. Maybe, just maybe…
The chains bent a fraction as she concentrated. Hope filled her.
Heavy footsteps shuffled down the stairs.
“Please no,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Not again.”
The high-pitched voice screeched against her sensitive eardrums like a single talon drawing across a chalkboard. “Not this time, dear. You’re getting a reprieve. For all eternity.”
A door to another room creaked open and light pierced the darkness. She blinked hard, smelled smoke. Terror immobilized her.
Her elderly captor fed wood into a large iron furnace. He whistled as he worked. With a crazy fear, she realized the tune was “Disco Inferno.”
Stairs, where were the stairs? There! So close. Make a break for it, she could do it. Ignoring the burning, Mara twisted her wrist to free it from the manacle.
The heavy footsteps neared. “Time to go.”
The chains unlocked, slid to the floor with a loud clang. She kicked and struggled, but two days without food or water had left her weak.
“Why are you doing this? Please, don’t hurt me. Please, I’ll be good, I promise.” she cried out.
“You can never be good. You are evil. And evil must be sent back to hell.”
In the open furnace door, flames licked the air. Terror immobilized her.
“Welcome to hell, demon.”
Mara screamed.
Chapter 2
No one could force the hand of Lucien Marcello, the Society’s most powerful Ancient.
Not even Anderson Stamos, half-dragon shifter and the newly appointed director of the Society for the Elimination of Malevolent Magick.
Perched on the leather sofa at Lucien’s Michigan house, Anderson fussed with a briefcase while Lucien’s gremlin assistant, Petra, watched television.
Lucien propped one polished loafer on the distressed oak trunk that served as a coffee table. He gave the director a cool stare and sent a thought into Anderson’s mind. I could snap your trachea with a flick of my finger.
Other directors had trembled when Lucien tested them. He was the most powerful of all the Ancients, soldiers who fought evil for the Society. But Anderson did not even sweat. Lucien gave an imperceptible nod of approval.
The director opened the crisp manila folder. “Your new assignment. Mara Fuller, age twenty-one. Until a week ago she was a full-time student. But Dennis Jones, a human psychic who has crusaded to destroy those he deems evil, abducted her.”
At the mention of Jones, Lucien hid his rage. “That bastard is still alive? What did he do?”
“Tried burning her alive in a furnace.”
Revulsion filled him, but he did not even blink.
“The flames went out and she escaped without injury. But she wants revenge.”
“Jones should die.”
“You know we can’t do it, Lucien. It’s up to the human authorities to bring him to justice. We are forbidden from touching him.”
Reaching for the wine glass that Lucien extended, Anderson inhaled the delicate aroma of the fine French vintage before taking a sip. Then he put down the glass to pull a snapshot out of the folder.
Lucien stretched out his hand. Willing it to him, the photo floated into his palms. He studied it with apparent detachment.
The sweet face brought back a vision he could never forget.
Mara. Eyes blue as a quiet lake, ash-blonde hair sweeping down in a blunt cut just below her soft jawline. That cute tip-tilted nose. He’d wanted to kiss it, trail his mouth across the smoothness of her cheeks. Chase away those shadows darkening her eyes and instead hear his name upon her lips as her face glowed with arousal.
He wanted to feel her naked skin silky beneath him, taste a hardened nipple beneath his rasping tongue, feel her honeyed slickness coating his fingers as he stroked her, coaxing her closer to pleasure….
Lucien knew it was his destiny to lie with her. To make her his own.
Inside his pleated wool trousers, he became painfully aroused. Sweat dripped down his back, dampening his cashmere sweater. Mara stirred his jaded appetite, whetted his desire into fierce longing. Yet this was not the fate the Society intended.
He set down his wineglass and the photo, knowing what the director needed. His cold heart thudded harder.
“You want me to destroy her,” Lucien realized.
Anderson said nothing, but regret shadowed his face.
You bastard, he thought, pain sluicing through his guts. I fight for you, I destroy evil. But I will not destroy her. Not this one.
Anderson drained his wineglass. “She’s a Darklighter, half-demon, half-angel. The mother was a fallen angel. She fell in love with Aticus, a lesser demon who’d hidden his powers. They produced triplets before Elena discovered her spouse’s true nature. The girls were left orphans at age fifteen and Mara, the eldest sibling by a few minutes and the most practical, took care of her sisters…there was a healthy trust fund Aticus set up for them…”
“Spare me the family tree. Give me the specifics of my assignment.”
Anger glittered in Anderson’s eyes. “The family tree has deep roots. You need to know what you’re dealing with.”
Lucien waved a hand and another bottle of red wine floated over, uncorked itself and refilled Anderson’s wineglass. “You need to know whom you are dealing with.”
The director sipped, and his eyes bulged. Choking, he spit out the vintage.
“It’s a mild poison, but can be lethal. Do you need a hospital?” Lucien inquired.
Petra rolled her eyes. She dashed into the kitchen and returned with a glass of water. Anderson gulped it down.
“It’s only jalapeño
