Winged Passion Read online

  “Get. Out.”

  His eyebrows drew together sharply. “Excuse me?”

  “Get out of my room.”

  “I was leaving anyway. I just came to ask you to tell no one of my proposal.”

  As if she would. To think, she had wasted fifty years on him. Still... “Why?”

  “There is no need for two lives to be destroyed this day.”

  Two lives? Try six.

  “I see.”

  “I’m glad you do. For once, please do the right thing by me.”

  And then he was gone.

  For once? She thought back over the past fifty years, at all the times she had forgiven his tardiness, his moodiness, his selfishness. She had constantly done right by him, making excuses, being overly courteous to compensate.

  It was only now that she could see it hadn’t been reciprocated.

  He thinks I am worthless.

  No, she thought furiously, straightening her spine despite the physical ache. I’m worth more than you can ever imagine.

  Chapter 3

  Present day

  Trick had had a bad week. Hell, he was going to call it and say he’d had a bad month.

  And Trick had long ago decided that bad days were for everyone else.

  But fate had a way of sucker-punching you when you least expected it. First, his former slave and friend, Dru, had bought her freedom. Then she’d threatened to kill him because he’d sold her twin sister, Peony, to the Mortus. Like it was anything other than a business decision. Said twin had then gone and murdered the Mortus king and taken his crown for herself, making her queen of the Mortus and someone who you shouldn’t fuck with, ever. And all while these shenanigans were going on, the angel he’d purchased out of pity from a bunch of Infernus demons had escaped, only to turn up in Hell…by Peony’s side.

  Now the winged asshole was refusing to return to the Halcyon Guild.

  Trick rubbed his forehead. I think I am getting a headache.

  His species didn’t even get headaches.

  The door to his office slammed open, and Dru stood there, her white hair tied back in a bun, and her gray eyes aflame. She was dressed in blue jeans and a black tank top, a sight so familiar that it sent a pang through Trick’s deadened heart. For a moment, hope flared that she had decided to return—as a free member of the guild, rather than a slave. But from her thunderous frown, he quickly realized that this was unlikely.

  “Trick.”

  “That is my name.” He drummed his fingers over the surface of his desk, one of the two pieces of furniture in the room. This place was for him, not for others. Anyone who set foot in his domain should feel uncomfortable, and he’d furnished the room to ensure they did. Plus, he didn’t use his office for meetings frequently—he liked the guild thinking that he conducted most of his business within their purview. It made them more comfortable around him, more willing to do his bidding.

  Well, that had been the case until he’d sold Peony to the Mortus. He was still putting out the fires that had erupted after that decision.

  Like I’d had a choice. When the spawn of Satan come knocking, you answer the door promptly. Trick hadn’t wanted to start a diplomatic incident. Sure, he didn’t answer to Satan, but the Hell-lord could make waves for Hades, and Hades was someone Trick did have to worry about. After all, the Halcyon Guild’s headquarters were in the former god’s realm, Tartarus.

  “Are you going to invite me in?” Dru asked, voice dry.

  “I didn’t think you were going to wait for an invitation.” She never had before.

  She strode into his office like she owned it, leaning her hip against his desk; there was no chair on her side. “Still an asshole, I see.”

  “It’s been, what, four weeks since you left? Why’d you expect anything different?” He leaned back in his seat, the banter familiar and strangely comforting.

  “Miracles can happen.”

  “Yeah, like your sister killing the Mortus king. Who knew she had it in her?”

  Dru’s gray eyes bled to entirely black and a pulse of pure evil tingled over his skin. But when she spoke, her voice was calm. “About that...we need to talk.”

  “I can’t buy her back, and I wouldn’t, even if I could. Peony will be good for the Mortus.”

  She really would. Dru’s twin had an inner moral compass that most demons lacked. She’d help them sort their shit out, and the Mortus would no doubt become the most efficient—and feared—race of demons in all three circles of Hell.

  Actually, they were already the most feared.

  He’d chosen to sell Peony rather than her sister simply because he’d thought her chances of surviving in the Mortus den were higher than Dru’s. His former assassin had a tendency of killing first, asking questions later. Which, you know, was too late, since she didn’t have necromancy in her skillset.

  “It’s not about Peony exactly,” Dru hedged.

  He sighed. “You’re here about the damned angel.”

  Z.

  That fucker had just disappeared from the cells one day—the same day Dru had left the guild for good, so he could do the math—and had ignored Trick’s magical summons for three weeks. Most demons would have come crawling back from the pain by now.

  But not this angel.

  Prick.

  “Yes,” Dru said. “Actually no. Not me, exactly.”

  He frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I kind of brought someone with me; she’s waiting outside. I’ll let her explain.” She strode to the door, opened it, and left.

  A second later, a statuesque woman with midnight-black skin stood in the open doorway. Her hair hung to her waist in a multitude of braids, and she was dressed in a power suit, complete with a briefcase. She looked like a lawyer. She was far worse.

  She was a fallen angel, and a member of the rival Falling Star mercenary guild.

  He groaned.

  “Trick.” Her voice dripped poison that rivaled bloomshade, one of the deadliest Hell-plants in all the realms.

  “Seraphina.”

  This woman was the face of the Falling Star—beautiful beyond belief, she charmed her way through clients, winning contract after contract. He’d gone to a party hosted by her guild a month ago, and had been suitably impressed by the group’s grandeur, and by her even more so.

  But he knew what danger it was to mess with a woman who viewed men as nothing more than conquests. Perhaps that was why he’d had a thing for Dru for all these years. She didn’t chew up lovers and spit them out afterward—she couldn’t, since she every time she took someone to bed, they risked their life.

  Still, he wasn’t blind, and he could admire Seraphina’s beauty despite her cold demeanor.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” He leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands over his stomach.

  She closed the door and strode to stand in front of his desk. “You will transfer the blood contract you have on Z to me.”

  He blinked.

  Re-ran her statement in his mind, then blinked again.

  “Sorry, I will do what?”

  “I don’t like repeating myself.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  She placed the briefcase on his desk with a thunk, opened the clips with brisk efficiency, then held up several pieces of paper. “I have a copy of his contract here.”

  How’d she get that?

  “So?”

  “It says down here,” she flicked to the second-last page, “that Z’s debt can be transferred to another person. A life for a life.”

  He leaned forward, intrigued by the argument. “And like for like.”

  “Exactly. I am an angel, he is an angel. I would swap my life for his.”

  “But you don’t have wings.”

  “I am still an angel.”

  “You are fallen, he is not.”

  Her chin jerked up. “If he went back to Heaven, he would
have his wings removed and be cast out just the same.”

  “Again, he has wings.”

  “With toxic feathers. You couldn’t sell them. Anyway, angel feathers lose potency if they grow in Hell.”

  His wings had turned poisonous?

  Now that was something he hadn’t known. But Z’s presence in the Mortus den now made sense. He was likely to be Peony’s mate.

  Goddamn it.

  Angels didn’t have mates, but they could be someone else’s, and that meant taking him back from the Mortus would cause an inter-Hell issue—the exact thing Trick had been trying to avoid when selling Peony to the damned demons in the first place.

  He was between a rock and a hard place, and from the gleam in Seraphina’s eyes, she knew it.

  “So, while I may be wingless, I am still an angel. You won’t get Z back willingly, and do you really want to take on the might of the Mortus to just prove a point? I am offering you a solution to your problem.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why are you offering this solution? What do you get out of it?”

  “I am doing this for Z. We were comrades in Heaven.”

  She was being honest, but not completely so. Considering how he liked to hold his cards close to his chest, he couldn’t blame her. But privacy was not a thing he promoted—secrets put the guild, its slaves and its free members at risk.

  “What about the Falling Star? You can’t work for them and be a blood slave here at the same time.”

  The new mercenary guild had sprung up out of nowhere seven months previously, and had done very well, considering they lived in the Human Realm, and most of the work available was in Hell.

  “I will resign my role.”

  Trick ran a hand over his hair, thinking hard. The only problem, he figured, was that he couldn’t really see a way to refuse her offer.

  “Fine.”

  Triumph flared in her dark-brown eyes.

  “But let’s seal the deal properly.” Something wicked took hold of him. “With blood...and a kiss.”

  Chapter 4

  A kiss?

  Seraphina would not betray her dismay at Trick’s demand. Sure, he was a handsome devil, with burnished gold hair and chocolate-brown eyes, but she didn’t want to make out with the demon who would soon own her soul.

  Call her crazy for wanting to keep the relationship strictly business.

  “Too chicken?” he said, standing. “Worried you’ll like it?”

  She flicked her hair over her shoulder, defiance in every line of her posture. “I didn’t say no, did I?”

  Seraphina was tall, but Trick stood a few inches taller. Despite his smart business attire, the demon was packed with muscle and probably weighed a good fifty to sixty pounds more than she did. While she was a trained warrior, she wasn’t sure she could take him in a fight; she was fast, but size did count for something in battle.

  Funny how this is what you think of when a man tries to kiss you, rather than how soft his mouth would feel.

  That’s what she’d used to wonder about Paschar, before they had become lovers: how his lips would taste, how his body would feel pressed against hers...But look how that had worked out for her. Betrayed, left alone when she needed him most, and slandered in Heaven.

  Oh, she wasn’t meant to know about the latter, but she had heard the rumors, even working in the Human Realm as she did.

  Trick came around the desk, a knife appearing in his hand as he stopped next to her. “Shall we sign first?”

  “Of course.”

  If she had to kiss him, she wasn’t about to do it without a contract in place. Although, why’d he’d want to kiss her, she didn’t know. Maybe because she was exotic? A fallen angel for the newest notch in his no-doubt pock-holed belt?

  He waved his free hand with a flourish, and a contract appeared, the paper yellowed as if with age. But the contract was new, only a few weeks’ old, so she knew it couldn’t be. He’s showy. Trick placed it on the table, grabbed a pen, and crossed out Z’s thumbprint.

  He held out his palm. “Give me your hand.”

  She knew what he wanted, but she didn’t like the idea of his blade cutting her skin without her being the one to wield it. She didn’t trust him one little bit. “I can do it.”

  “Yes, but I don’t want to just hand you a knife that you can use on me.”

  “Who says I don’t have a dozen already strapped to my person?”

  To be fair, she hadn’t arrived armed, even though normally she didn’t go anywhere without at least four blades and a gun. She hadn’t thought it would send the right message. Besides, all killing Trick would do was transfer his blood-slave contracts onto his heir, whoever that happened to be. And Dru, his former assassin, didn’t know the identity of the Halcyon Guild’s beneficiary.

  Since the heir was an unknown, Seraphina wasn’t about to take the risk that whoever inherited the Halcyon Guild could be worse than Trick.

  “You don’t have any weapons on you at the moment, I know.”

  How he knows, that’s the interesting question, she thought. Although, I am a weapon myself. Best he not forget that.

  “Well then, by all means.” She placed her hand in his, fighting back a surprised gasp at the heat that emanated from him. He was like a mini-inferno.

  With a methodical slice, he cut open the skin on the side of her thumb. He then turned her hand, so that the blood ran down the digit, dripping onto the floor.

  “Press this against the contract, next to Z’s.”

  Following the direction, she left a bloody thumbprint right beside her fellow Dart’s. The only difference, she was willing, whereas Z’s print had been made when he was unconscious. Picking up the pen, she then signed her name next to the fingerprint, for added surety.

  “Unnecessary, but okay, let’s go with it.” Trick rolled up the parchment, before it vanished into thin air.

  Handy trick. She grimaced at her inadvertent pun.

  “Now the kiss. It won’t be so bad; I even brushed my teeth this morning.” He grinned, exposing pearly whites without a single coffee stain.

  “You demand a kiss to seal the deal with everyone you enslave?” How many people were in the guild, anyway?

  “Only the special ones.”

  “Females, you mean.”

  “Come now, don’t be so narrow-minded. Females, males, non-gender-specific individuals. Whoever tickles my fancy.”

  Narrow-minded? Her?

  She’d never judged a person for their sexual orientation, skin color or species—aside from demons, but that was an angel’s job. I am not a bigot. But back in Heaven, she hadn’t really known anyone who wasn’t straight or non-cisgendered.

  “Apologies.” She bowed her head ever-so-slightly.

  Trick appeared startled at her response. Then he clapped his hands together, the momentary surprise gone. “Shall we get this show on the road?”

  “Yes.” Better to get it over with. “But I hope you don’t expect me to pay off my debt on my back.”

  “No. Your talents are better suited elsewhere.” He laughed, the sound rich and decadent.

  Her stomach dropped. Someone as morally repugnant as Trick shouldn’t be able to make such a melodic and wonderful noise.

  The distance between them seemed to vanish, and Trick was barely a hair’s breadth away. Since she’d fallen, Seraphina had kissed and been kissed numerous times. Soon after arriving in the Human Realm, she’d worked out that people were drawn to her looks the way bees were to honey. Her appearance had become a new kind of weapon; sex had simply been a new way to fight. But she’d never been nervous before, not until now.

  Trick’s lips met hers, the contact searing in its intensity. His breath tasted of mint leaves. His tongue tickled the seam of her lips, and she opened, dueling with him, refusing to submit. She would never surrender to anyone again—not a boss, a lover, or even a
slave master. Her body and her mind were her own, and she would not put someone else’s happiness above hers.

  Soon though, the kiss deepened, grew hotter, sexier. Trick pressing his body flush against hers, the hard muscles of his torso meeting her breasts, which grew heavy and ached.

  No. This is just business.

  But she couldn’t deny that her body wanted to rub against him, to feel the heat of his shaft pressed against her stomach. Her blood flowed hotter, thicker, and her fingers itched to trace over the bare skin of his body. Would it be as soft as it looked?

  She had had numerous partners since her fall. None had tasted as appealing as Trick.

  His hand slid down over her back, around to her hip, his fingers tightening over the curve. Then, all of a sudden, he broke away, placing several feet of distance between them.

  “There, the deal has been sealed.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his mouth, like he was wiping away the taste of her. Strangely, she didn’t feel insulted. In fact, she wondered if he had done it to erase her taste, because it had been too good. Too delicious.

  Like he had been.

  No.

  His wasn’t the kind of kiss that left her craving more.

  Definitely not.

  But she knew it for a lie, even if she hadn’t said it aloud.

  A tingling sensation swept over Seraphina’s lips, then they burned. Raising a hand to her mouth, she placed her cool palm against her lips, but it offered little relief. Thirty seconds later, the pain faded, as if it had never been.

  He branded me there.

  If she ever ran away or disappeared, he’d be able to track her with it.

  The bastard.

  But then, should she expect more from the leader of a mercenary guild?

  You run one yourself.

  Yes, and if her guild had slaves, she might have done the same thing, damn it.

  It was a great way to mess with a new slave’s mind, to keep them on their toes, to know that wherever they went, whoever they kissed afterward, they had their master’s brand right there the whole time.

  Chapter 5

  That had been a bloody stupid idea.