Midnight Coven (Devil's Roses Book 7) (The Devil's Roses) Read online

  My jaw drops.

  He smiles wider and leans against the wall. “How long should we give them?”

  “How long would you need?”

  “Hours!” He winks but doesn't travel.

  I scoff. “Right. I’m going to bet fifteen minutes and that's being generous.”

  “I’m an angel. I’m made to be perfect, at everything.”

  “Mmmhmmm.”

  He cocks an eyebrow. “You don't believe me?”

  “No.”

  “Have you ever had an angel?”

  I nod. “I’ve had men, y’all are the same.” It’s a lie but I don't care. I don't want to talk about how I’m dangerous and evil and blah, blah, blah.

  “If you promise not to electrocute my dick, I’d be happy to show you how wrong you are.”

  I hold a hand up between us. “Pass, but thanks for the offer.”

  “You don't know what you’re missing.”

  “Ditto.” I grin.

  He leans into the wall and shouts, “Pinch it off, Landry. We have a date with destiny.”

  “Tact—have you ever heard of the word?” I wince, imagining how embarrassed they both must be.

  He sighs. “I don't have time for tact. I’m a busy bloke.” He leans over to me, licks my neck and takes a deep inhale, whispering, “I saw everything that happened in that room. I was in the dream too. Pretty sure you owe me for that level of cock teasing.” He shoves off the wall, leaving me there with the cool wind brushing against where he licked and my insides suddenly churning.

  Chapter Eight

  We walk across the field, watching the castle come into sight.

  “We really had to travel this far from the castle and walk up?”

  Gwen nods. “They won’t expect it if they have new witches. They will have barriers.”

  I’m ignoring them, as I walk sensing everything. I don't feel a spell until we are in the forest on the left-hand side of the castle. It’s only a hundred feet from the walls. I stop dead in my tracks, feeling the air thicken just ahead of me. It sparkles with life. “Stop!”

  I lift my fingers, pressing them against the wall of magic.

  “She’s strong, whoever she is.” The barrier is thick. The second we enter she’ll know. I feel the magic, testing it and letting it fill me. The ancients inside of me run their fingers across it too, using my hands for their own. Ideas form in my mind. One stands out. I lean forward, sucking the magic into me, making it my own. Then I turn to Dorian and grab his face—planting my lips on his. He doesn’t struggle. He lets the magic fill him. I can feel it mixing with him. His fingers grip, as memories wash through us both. I let go, before I start moaning and climbing him like a tree. He sparkles a little with magical energy.

  “Put your hand into the wall, just here. If the magic doesn't change, she won’t feel the interruption in the barrier. You should be one with the magic she used.” I hold my neck out for Gwen. She licks her lips but shakes her head. “I had witch once, Lorelei. I swore I’d never have it again.”

  I understand and grab her face, kissing her the way I did Dorian. He mutters. “Now this is what I’m taking about.” Her lips are soft and sweet, just like they look. Kissing her is like kissing myself, with her delicate features and plump lips that wait to be invaded by an aggressive tongue. But neither of us is that kind of girl—we’re used to being kissed by men. The kiss is filled with the anticipation of things that don't ever come.

  She pulls back and nods. “It’s tingly.”

  I am dreading the last kiss. I lean into the wall and draw more of the magic, turning and closing my eyes as Landry’s firm lips meet mine. I let his mouth invade mine. Flashes of his thoughts fill my mind. He really doesn't like me. He wants to mount me, make me lesser than him. I pull back from his rapey thoughts and scowl. His cheeks flush.

  We turn and face the forest and the invisible wall. When we step into the barrier, the magic doesn't ripple at all. We are completely one with it. She shouldn't feel us. I almost thank the voices in my head—almost. The idea was clever, even if it wasn't mine.

  When we get to the basement door Gwen walks ahead, opening it slowly. She puts a finger to her lips. We creep inside, into the dark. The overwhelming feeling of the dead witches is gone. There is no one lingering about like before.

  I fight the urge to snap my fingers and let the sparks play. I know that she might be able to sense my magic, like Momma’s ghost. When we get to a long staircase Gwen whispers. “This will take us to the main hall. The witches normally are kept below in the dungeons.” Her cheeks redden as she presses her lips for a moment. “The one they have must be upstairs, if they’re using her for magic and blood. Just remember if they’re drinking from her, they’ll have some of her powers. I’m the only one who has no magical ability.”

  I nod, wondering how often Whit exploited that from me.

  My heart aches, regardless of not working properly.

  Dorian pats me on the back. “Lucky we have our own special brand of evil.”

  Gwen scowls at him before giving me a headshake. “I’m sure there is a compliment in there somewhere.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Don't be like that, love.” Dorian rubs my back. I roll my eyes at Gwen and walk past her, slipping up the staircase silently. Everything in my life has become dark hallways and dense forests and creepy dead things. I just want to be normal and lie in the heat somewhere with the sun beating down on me. That's a dream now but it’s a good one.

  When I get to the top of the stairs, I touch the doorknob. Nothing moves beyond it. There is no sound or feeling that a person would get. I open the door, stepping out into the hall. It’s dimly lit and completely empty.

  The house feels empty, except for the whispering wind.

  I take a step forward, seeing a mirror in the hall. The hair on my arms stands on end and I spin to shout the warning that something is wrong. But I’m too late. Whatever it is that's there has me. Everything goes completely dark and I’m falling.

  I don't land though. I just fall in the blackness, almost floating. I don't know if hours pass or days or seconds. I struggle to get out of it, but it’s like liquid all around me, smothering me.

  Suddenly, I’m standing with my nose pressed against something wooden. I press my hands against it, feeling the wood everywhere in front of me. I push on it but it doesn't budge. I scratch at it but nothing. I punch and hit but I can’t get much swing, there isn’t room. Wood surrounds me—front, back, side, and side.

  I scream but my voice is raw and comes out like it’s hoarse.

  There is nothing. I am in a box, trapped and lost. No noises outside of the box and no way out.

  I close my eyes, imagining the box is gone but my magic feels like it’s on the other side. I can’t reach it but I know it’s near.

  “HELP ME!” I cry out but no one comes and nothing moves.

  I don't know if I’ve fallen asleep or not but one second I am alone in the box and the next it opens on a hinge, like a door might. Marcus smiles at me from the other side and opens it wider. “How are you?” He asks like I’ve just rung the bell at his front door.

  I stumble out of the box, my legs collapsing. He chuckles and lifts me up. I try to zap him but nothing happens.

  I am impotent.

  I am weak and vulnerable.

  There is nothing left of my magic.

  I swear I can hear it screaming for me on the other side of the room or above me like it’s everywhere, but it’s nowhere at the same time.

  Marcus carries me to a bed, laying me down and sitting next to me. “You must be exhausted.”

  I start to cry. Perhaps it’s from the loss of magic or the being lost in space and time or being trapped in the box, or all three. Whatever it is, I lose myself and my senses, sobbing uncontrollably.

  He is an odd man. He hugs me to him and lets me cry.

  I wake with a start, not realizing I’ve fallen sleep. I leap across the room, slamming my back
into a wall and readying for whatever violence they have planned for me.

  But there is no one.

  I am completely alone and in a very nice room. It’s plush and decorated like an Elizabethan bedroom. It’s got to be in the castle still, a room I hadn’t seen perhaps.

  A woman comes in with a tray of food. She closes the door and locks it. I never noticed the door before this moment. It’s sort of creepy the way it’s so black and shiny like a strange sort of stone. The woman gives me a soft smile. “I’ve brought you some food.” She sets the tray down and then tilts her head to the side. She is an innocent so I shake my head. “The food is enough.”

  She frowns. “I give you my whole permission to drink from me. I know you won’t kill me. I don't mind. You’ll need your strength.”

  Those words seal it for me. I shake my head. “I’d rather die.”

  She shrugs and leaves the room, locking me in again. I walk to the door, feeling a painful buzzing sound the closer I get to it. When I am a foot away my head feels like it might explode, but I push until I reach the door. When I touch it, a blast of something hits my hand, sending me sailing backward onto the floor.

  I turn and drag myself back to the bed.

  I don't want to eat but the food looks delicious. Sausage, eggs, bacon, and waffles smothered in whipped cream and strawberries.

  It smells like heaven, regardless of being in hell.

  My face is covered in food and my stomach is expanding beyond my slacks when I take the last bite of bacon and moan into the glass of orange juice. The food and drink puts me into a food coma. I curl into the sheets and close my eyes again, listening for sounds and desperately trying to reach the voices inside of my head.

  When I wake again there is a plate of grilled cheese and fries. My stomach groans and I realize I’m starving again.

  The lock on the door clicks and Marcus comes strolling in, again smiling and cheery, for an evil bastard. He sits on the chair across from the bed and nods. “Hungry again?”

  I narrow my gaze. “This feels an awful lot like Hansel and Gretel.”

  “I’m afraid I don't recall the reference.”

  “You’re fattening me up to eat me.”

  He chuckles. “Then, yes. It is, although I dare say I hope you don't get fat. I’m not fond of larger women. I’m not picky either, but stamina is an important feature in a girl.”

  I pick at the fries, hating that I’m starving and a plate full of carbs feels like the right kind of comfort food.

  “I heard once that your mother starved you. Always trying to whittle you down from voluptuous to skin and bone.”

  I put the fry down.

  His brow furrows. “I didn't mean to offend you. I just can’t believe someone would see you and think you need to lose weight. You are perfect. That's all I meant.”

  He’s being too nice.

  It makes me uncomfortable.

  He gets up and walks to me, perhaps sensing my discomfort at discussing my size. He drops to a knee in front of me and lifts my hand, kissing and inhaling at the same time. “Would you fancy a bath and some clean clothes?”

  I nod once.

  He kisses again and gets up, opening a door that looks like a closet, but inside is a room. “I will have Leah bring you a change of clothes.” He turns and leaves the room, locking the shiny black devil door again.

  I look out the windows, noticing for the first time that they are black, like the door, but it’s on the other side of a pane of glass. I am surrounded by devil glass.

  Before I get up I look at the plate of food, hating that I still do it, and scarfing it back. I eat like Momma has been starving me for an event and it’s finally over. It’s so good. I can taste the real butter on the bread and the cheese is the good stuff. I’m sweating and cramping up as I stagger back into the bathroom, stopping, stunned at what I see. It’s incredible. The room has a huge tub that could easily fit me and Em in it, even now. It has a large shower, filled with different types of shampoos and conditioners and body bars.

  As nice as these ones are, hair products are still one the things about being back in 1950s that really sucks. I strip down, rubbing my food belly, and climbing into the bathroom to start the process to feeling human again. As human as I can feel.

  Chapter Nine

  His idea of clothing is a joke. The nightdress he leaves for me is sheer. My clothes vanished while I was in the shower and I have nothing but a wet bath sheet and my bed to cover up with. I pull on the ridiculous thing and hurry back to my bed. I pull the covers up to conceal my nakedness.

  A baron of beef sandwich, with dip, is sitting there in all its glory. I savor the smell of the rare meat and dipping jus. I don't even check to see if I’m hungry, I eat. The bread is moist and chewy. When I take my first bite I moan and savor the flavor of it all. Marcus comes in as I’m taking my last bite and washing it down with a large lime spritzer of sorts. I sit back and wipe my face, all the while hugging the blankets to myself.

  “Are you feeling better yet?”

  I nod. “Where is everyone else?”

  He shrugs. “I try not to get too involved in the Roses’ business. They’re like having a pet—they die far too young. It’s a type of heartbreak I prefer to live without.” He sits on the bed, eyeing up the blankets around my neck. “I was hoping you might be well enough to let me have a small taste again.”

  I shake my head.

  “I will have it, Lorelei.” He nods. “I will have you.”

  He gets up again and sits in the chair across the room. He closes his eyes, like he’s going to nap in here. A puzzled look crosses my brow. “Why are you staying here?”

  He sighs. “The thing I love the most about the gift you gave me,” he pauses and inhales slowly, smiling at the sentence he has yet to murmur. “I remember everything. I remember the good, the bad, and the ugly. One thing I particularly liked about hanging with the Roses was the research I was able to do.”

  He makes me even more nervous with the devilish smile crossing his lips as he leans forward and blinks innocently. “You wouldn't believe the tinctures I came up with.”

  I inch away slowly, pulling the covers even tighter to me, but something happens to the grip I have on the blankets. His wicked smirk is the last thing I recall as my eyes flutter and fade to total darkness.

  When I wake my head is pounding. I try to move my hand to rub my eyes but it doesn't move. I look up at it, reaching for the bedpost behind me. A silver cuff is on my arm. I turn the other way, gasping when I see the other hand is cuffed. My legs don't respond to my tugging either. My head is so heavy I can’t look past my body to see if my feet are cuffed but I can guess the answer to the question.

  I take deep breaths, willing my mind to calm.

  The room spins and my heavy lids try to close again but I refuse them that. I refuse to let the darkness take me. I’m tired of all the darkness. The door opens, and I manage to turn my head, seeing a face I don't expect. Whit smiles sheepishly, like his boyish grin will do anything for the amount of hate I know is seething through me, but I can’t reach it.

  He closes the door and walks to me, sitting on the bed next to me and puts his hand on my bare thigh. I feel his warmth touching me. I can’t lift my head to see why my thigh is bare, but I can see my chest is hardly covered with the sheer nightdress being all I suspect I have on.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Get the fuck outta here and leave me the fuck alone.” The words are mumbled and slurred. I don't love cussing but he has worked my last nerve.

  “I just want us to be friends again, Lorelei.”

  “I never thought we were friends, asshole.” I groan, trying to wriggle my body, desperate to reach even a drop of my magic.

  He leans forward, pressing his lips against my struggling cheek. The strength of his face it too much, I can’t get away from the warmth of his lips. His hand is sliding up my thigh. I scream, raging in desperation.

  He whispers as his f
ingers bite into my thigh. “I wish you could love me again. Love me as I am.”

  “Well, Whit, let me tell you the thing Ramón always told me, before you murdered him mercilessly anyway. Put that wish in one hand and shit in the other and see which one fills up first.” I shake my head, laughing like a mad woman. I’m actually afraid I’ve lost my mind.

  He doesn't laugh. He frowns like he’s doing the math on that one, making me laugh harder. Tears fill my eyes as I laugh. He grips to my face with one hand and my thigh with the other. He smiles cruelly as he lifts his hand from my thigh, revealing my black blood and licking it from his fingers. “Laugh it up, but you’re our new buffet.”

  His fangs drop as he lowers himself to my chest and bites down hard on it. I scream, hating the feel of him against me.

  He lifts his face, wipes his mouth, and gets up. “I’ll come back and visit you later, lass.”

  It dawns on me then he wasn't Whit. He was Rydal acting like Whit and trying to make me think it was him.

  I lie there, tied to the bed for a while, long enough that my wounds are healed and I’m bored, even with panicking. Finally, the door unlocks. I wince when I see Inger. His eyes are lit up as he looks around and closes the door. He leans back on it, grinning like a cat might at a canary. He cocks an eyebrow. “Lass, ya think what ya’s saw in the dungeon was bad. I’ve had a hankering for you and your sweet blood from the moment I met ya.” He undoes his trousers, making my breathing stop and my stomach churn. I shake my head. “Please don't.”

  He nods, smiling and dropping his fangs. “Where do ya want me to put it? I’ll be a gentleman and let you pick.”

  I clamp my mouth shut, contemplating if I’m strong enough mentally to bite his cock off.

  He shrugs and climbs on the bed, sliding between my thighs. I’m about to beg for my life as the door opens and Inger starts running a finger down my thigh. Marcus leans against the doorframe. He narrows his eyes, tilting his head to the side.

  “Either come in and fuck her with me or bugger off and close the door,” Inger shouts at him.