Dark and Damaged: Eight Tortured Heroes of Paranormal Romance: Paranormal Romance Boxed Set (59 page)

Demons who had worshipped him as their master.

Lucifer hadn’t realised the power he possessed as the ruler of Hell until Heaven had chosen to create a new race of angels to serve it. He had tainted the soul of the first angel during its creation, a mere drop of darkness that had spread through it and corrupted it.

He had seen the extent of his power in that moment and he had embraced it.

He had thought of nothing but revenge since then. Every act he had undertaken had been done with the intent of dealing a blow to Heaven as they had dealt a blow to him. He had begun to grow an army, welcoming the fallen angels into his fold and giving them power so they could destroy any of the remaining demons who sought to punish them for their sins and could carry out his orders in the mortal realm. He had shaped the weaker demons and sent them forth to corrupt the humans. He had done it all to strike a blow that would shake Heaven to its foundations.

Wars had followed, a struggle for power that was endless and beautiful.

Lucifer smiled grimly at the pleasing memories as power coursed through him, darkness that bled from his skin like smoke and writhed as shadows around his arms.

He pulled his fist from the wall and turned his palm towards him, splaying his fingers as he watched the black ribbons fluttering around them.

He had lived shrouded in darkness. A king in his realm. He had passed millennia without feeling a thing.

No trace of light left inside him.

Until Erin.

The day he had learned of his daughter’s existence, he had been filled with a new purpose.

A desire to use her to finally achieve his dream of bringing down Heaven.

And the day he had first set eyes on her, something else had happened to him, something he had been fighting to hide ever since.

A tiny spark of light had burst to life in the dark cold pit of his soul.

Lucifer pressed his hand to his chest, the soft fabric of his black jacket, tie and shirt cushioning his palm. He curled his fingers, digging the tips into the material as he felt that light inside him, tormenting him, growing despite his attempts to squash it out of existence. It refused to die though, kept spreading tiny tendrils through him, reaching ever outwards and gaining ground against the inky dark.

As it grew, it restored parts of him that were better off dead, softer emotions that had no place existing inside him or in his realm. Emotions that were dangerous to possess in Hell. There were still creatures here drawn to the light in angels.

If his legions learned of the light waging war inside him, if the demons learned of it, a battle for his throne would erupt.

Every creature with power in his realm would seek his head.

He growled from between clenched teeth and vowed that none would ever know of it. He made sure that his men never witnessed his moments with his daughter and grandson, and those were the only times he felt powerless against the light, unable to contain and control it.

He would find a way to expel that light from his soul again, because he would do anything to protect his position. He might not have asked for his role in this realm, but it was his to play now and he had come to like his life in Hell. This realm was his home, his everything, and no one would take that from him.

His golden gaze dropped back to the floor.

No one.

Any threat to his throne would be dealt with.

He had given the mortal female time to become accustomed to her situation, but now that time was up.

Now he would use the small sliver of trust she felt towards him and her attraction to him to his advantage.

The trick Mihail had used on her to scrub her memories would be wearing off. While she wouldn’t remember that she had been taken by an angel, she might remember if Mihail had said anything to her or taken her anywhere before bringing her to Lucifer’s fortress.

And now that Mihail’s power was fading, Lucifer could employ his own abilities to sift through her memories as she tried to recall the events that had brought her to him.

If he discovered that she wasn’t in on Mihail’s plan, he would set in motion his own one.

He would implant orders into her head, ones that Mihail would unwittingly trigger if he returned for her.

The little mortal would become the instrument of the angel’s fall.

And Lucifer would be waiting for him with open arms.

Nina paced the small apartment she had been moved to, wearing a groove in the polished stone floor. It was cold beneath her bare feet. She wasn’t sure what had happened to her shoes, but thinking about where they might be was a distraction she didn’t need, not when she was beginning to panic again.

She had tried to sleep, but had woken sharply, roused from her slumber by something she couldn’t remember now. It had been important, she felt sure of that. A memory? She frowned at the floor, turned on her heel and paced back towards the large tapestry hanging on the black wall, ignoring the niggling voice that mentioned for the thousandth time that there were no windows in her room.

It felt like a cell.

The walls closed in on her and she screwed her eyes shut, breathed out slowly, and drew down a deep breath to calm herself. She had to maintain her focus. Whenever she managed to get her mind off her current situation and unimportant details like her missing shoes, she could catch a glimpse of the shadowy figure that lurked in her fragmented memories.

Her head ached and she paused mid-stride, pressing her hand against her forehead. Sweat dampened it. She was pushing herself too hard again, but she felt that if she just kept her focus for long enough, kept driving forwards and not relenting, that she might remember what had awoken her.

It felt important.

She wanted to have something she could tell the man when he returned.

She hadn’t seen him since he had brought her to the room, given her a set of clothes that were still laid out over the back of the red velvet couch in front of the unlit fireplace to her right, and had left her alone with instructions to remain in the room.

She hadn’t seen anyone.

Not in all the time she had been here.

The grim corridors of the insanely huge house had been empty as the man had led her through them. Every single one of them. She hadn’t even heard a trace of life in the building, other than her escort, and he had been silent the entire walk between the room where she had come around to find him watching her and her new one.

Nina flopped onto the four-poster bed to her left, the dark red silk covers cushioning her fall, cool against her back and her arms as she stretched them out at her sides. She stared at the black ceiling and the crystal chandelier that hung in the centre of it, her mind wandering as her focus slipped.

To the man.

He hadn’t mentioned his name.

Because he was a servant?

She had never met a servant before, so she wasn’t sure what the protocol was for them, or whether she should have given him her name.

It wasn’t as if he had asked, and she felt sure that if it had been important or he had wanted to know it, he would have asked her.

Nina sighed out her breath and sank deeper into the soft mattress, her head filling with a replay of the hours she had spent with him and in this building. Questions began to replace the images, her curiosity getting the better of her now that she was beginning to feel bolder.

She was going to ask him his name when he returned.

She was going to ask him where they were, because this house didn’t look like the sort she would find in London. The ceiling slipped out of focus and she struggled to bring it back to sharpness again. It wasn’t the first time it had happened, but it was happening less often as the ache behind her eyes gradually dulled and the fog in her mind lifted.

The shadowy figure had drugged her.

It was wearing off, but he had definitely drugged her.

That meant she could be anywhere. She might have been out for hours. Days.

Her throat closed, her heart beating harder against her ribs, and she tugged the soft blanket beneath her into her fists, clinging to it as she fought the wave of panic.

She breathed through it, slowly and steadily, methodically pushing all of the frightening thoughts out of her mind so she could find calm again. With calm came clarity, and she needed that right now. She needed a clear head so she could think.

She needed to figure out what had happened and whether she was safer out there, or in this building.

The handsome man flashed across her eyes, his half-smile making her belly flutter and knees weaken even when she was lying down.

Part of her didn’t feel safe around him.

Not because he was a danger to her, like the other man and her ex-husband.

But because he was too alluring, and the pull she felt towards him was too strong. She couldn’t fight it, even when she knew that she had to in order to protect herself. She had learned long ago not to trust men.

Especially the handsome and charismatic ones.

And her host was as charming as they got.

Nina pressed her right hand to her chest, feeling her heart beating rapidly against her palm. She needed to get control of herself and shove aside the attraction she felt towards the man, because giving in to it wasn’t an option.

She wouldn’t put herself through that hell again.

The door in the right corner of the far end of the room opened and she shot into a sitting position, her heart leaping into her throat as her gaze darted towards it.

The man stood there, dressed as impeccably as before in a fine black suit and polished leather shoes, with his dark hair swept back from his face. All that black made him look as pale as a ghost, his skin white and flawless. Only his amber eyes added a touch of colour that added life to him.

That fiery gaze burned into her as his eyes came to settle on her, narrowing slightly so his long black lashes darkened his irises to burnished gold.

“You are awake,” he said, his voice as smooth and deep as an ocean, lulling her as gently as waves.

With practiced precision, he carried a silver tray into the room and set it down on the black coffee table near the red couch.

Her stomach grumbled at the sight of it. Fruits, something that looked like a sponge cake, and chocolate. Her belly growled louder, her mouth watering as she thought about breaking off a piece of chocolate and popping it into her mouth. Beside the food on the tray stood an elegant silver teapot and a single fine china cup on a saucer, with a tiny pot of milk and a sugar bowl.

Nina stared at the offering, wondering if she would look rude if she ran across the room to stuff her face with the food.

The man arched an eyebrow at her and then at the tray. “I can ask for coffee if you prefer it.”

She quickly shook her head. “Tea is fine. Perfect. I love tea.”

And she was rambling. She didn’t need to catch the amused look on his handsome face to know that.

She edged off the bed and walked as casually as she could towards the couch. He shifted aside when she neared him and she almost paused to look at him, part of her curious about why he always moved away from her whenever she approached him. Was he merely trying to make her feel more comfortable?

Or was there another reason he wanted to keep his distance from her?

The suspicious part of herself locked on to the latter, filling her head with theories about why he might want to avoid being near her. She shoved them away as she sat down on the red velvet couch and snapped off a square of dark chocolate. Her stomach rumbled as she brought it to her lips and she had to fight to keep her eyes open as she placed the piece on her tongue and chewed. Heaven.

Nina swallowed the chocolate, sank back into the couch and sighed.

The man’s gaze on her intensified and she lazily lifted her eyes to meet his. He was closer now, standing at one end of the coffee table and staring down at her, his head cocked to one side.

She was about to ask whether he had never seen a woman blissing out on chocolate when he spoke.

“Tea?” He was crouching before she could respond and she couldn’t help noticing how his black trousers pulled tight across his toned thighs and higher.

Nina dragged her gaze away from the bulge and fixed it on his hands, watching as he nimbly lifted the silver teapot in his left hand and pressed the fingers of his right to the lid as he tilted it, pouring a tall stream of golden liquid into the waiting white cup. Steam swirled from the hot liquid as it rose towards the brim. With an equal measure of care and perfection, he slowly righted the teapot and set it back down on the tray.

Golden eyes slid across to meet hers. “Milk?”

Nina nodded and he picked up the small china pot and began to pour, his gaze constantly on hers. She held her hand out when the tea was golden, not too pale nor too dark for her taste. When he reached for the sugar, she shook her head.

“Sweet enough as you are?” he said with a wide smile that made her heart thump ridiculously against her chest.

She opened her mouth to bat the comment away, but he rose to his feet, coming to tower over her. Something about him standing over her like that, the warmth draining from his eyes as his smile faded, set her on edge. She wrapped one arm around her waist and reached for her cup of tea with the other.

“I make you nervous.” He backed off a step and then another, and she wanted to tell him that it wasn’t him, but she couldn’t bring herself to voice that lie.

He did make her nervous.

He made her nervous when he was close to her, when he was kind to her, when he asked her things about what had happened to her.

When he looked at her as she knew he was looking at her now when her gaze and focus was on picking up the tea he had poured for her.

She could feel the heat of his gaze on her, knew if she lifted hers to meet his that there would be a touch of hunger in his eyes, desire that she had spotted in them before and that left her feeling breathless. The room closed in on her and she struggled to breathe as she reached for the cup. Her fingers shook against the delicate handle and she closed her eyes to shut out the room and everything in it, hoping that it would help her steady her nerves.