Dark Promise (9 page)

He folded his arms across his chest. “You’re lying.”

She twisted the ring on her finger faster and faster, sending tingles up her arm. “No, I’m not.”

“When you lie, your freckles brighten across your nose.”

She touched her nose. “No, they don’t.”

He laughed. “Yes, they do. You are lying.”

“Eric, I don’t go around seeing wraiths.”

“You deny you see the undead?”

Her childhood flashed in her mind and all the cat calls rang in her ear. She wasn’t walking into the trap of admitting she could see the Wraith or the undead. “Only crazy people see things. I’m not crazy.”

His smile faded and sadness glimmered in his eyes. “People have told you this?”

Cassandra reached for her wine and took a big gulp. She choked and her eyes watered. “No.”

“Ah.” Eric motioned to the waiter. “A bottle of your best Pinot Noir.”

The waiter came with a bottle and showed it to Eric who nodded. Eric swirled the wine in his glass and sipped. “Very good, Troy.”

Troy smiled. “You’re welcome, sir.” He refilled Cassandra’s glass. She twirled the glass stem.

Eric jumped out of his chair, ran to her and rubbed her back. “Are you all right?”

She cleared her throat. “Yes, I’m fine.” Her voice slurred. Great! She needed to keep her wits around her, not be falling down drunk and giving into temptation now sitting across from her.

A waiter arrived with their food. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”

“No, we’re good,” Eric said as he poured A-1 sauce onto his rare meat.

Cassandra nibbled on a crunchy French fry and took a bite of her black and blue cheeseburger. The combination of juicy meat, blue cheese and applewood bacon melted in her mouth. But at Eric’s triumphant face, she put down the burger and sipped some more wine. Her vision turned fuzzy and her mind clouded. Stay focused.

“You think you’re the only one who sees the supernatural?” he murmured.

“I told you I don’t see anything.” Trying to ignore him, she seized her burger and took a large bite, anxious to get the meal done.

Eric swirled his wine glass. His eyes bore into her. “Wraith.” The simple word was a command.

The warmth around the table vanished. Goosebumps ran up her arm. Uneasiness gripped her. The room grew darker and lights flickered.

Eric smiled. “Good evening, Wraith.”

No, he couldn't see the Wraith. Someone with an icy grip grabbed her shoulder. “Cassandra.”

Choking, Cassandra spat water onto her plate. Tears blurred her vision. The Wraith.

Eric was at her side again, patting her back. He handed her a napkin.

“I’m fine.” She cleared her throat. “Just went down the wrong pipe.”

“Cassandra.”

Eric stopped patting her back and returned to his seat.

She slowly turned her head. White bony fingers clutched her. A billowy black robed figure gazed at her with burning red eyes. The hood covered the face. The Wraith leaned closer to Cassandra, and a chilly breeze rushed into her ear. “Come, Cassandra, come. We need you.”

The words and the Wraith faded. Go? Go where? Who needed her? Trembling, Cassandra closed her eyes and put her hand on her thumping heart. Opening her eyes, she took a shaky breath. She never got used to the Wraith’s appearance, but then, who would?

She grabbed the bottle, poured herself another glass. “You see her?”

“Do you?” He sat in his chair, eating steak as if seeing the Wraith was normal. If he had actually seen her, he wouldn’t be cutting his damned meat.

Tears threatened to fall. She wanted Eric to be different, to be like the man in her dreams, accepting her, believing her ability to see the Wraith and the dead.

He cocked his eyebrow. “Aren’t you hungry?”

“Yes. But you’ll excuse me, Eric. I have to go to the restroom.”

He stood as she got up. “Why do you need your jacket?”

“I have something in my jacket I need. It’s personal.”

He narrowed his eyes and clamped his mouth shut tight.

She’d fail to fool him. Stuff it. Stumbling, Cassandra forced her feet to amble. Once inside the restroom behind the bar, she slipped on her jacket, clutched her purse and waited. A heavyset woman exited. Crouching to the side of her, Cassandra used her as a human shield and prayed Eric couldn’t see her. Cassandra flung open the door and ran outside. A fist of cold air hit her in the face. Her head swam from all the wine she’d drank. The anchor of bacon and blue cheese burger and fries weighed heavy in her stomach. She ran in a zigzag line down the street.

Not only did Eric know her deepest secrets, but he had the power to summon the Wraith—How could he do this?

“Cassandra!”

She ran across the street. A car skidded to a halt, tires screaming. She stumbled backward.

A police car was inches from her hitting her. Oh, shit.

“Cassandra!”

His feet barely touching the ground, Eric rushed down the street. He was an avenging angel. She must be totally wasted.

“Miss, are you all right?”

Cassandra turned away from Eric and stared as the tallest police officer she had ever seen got out of the car. His broad shoulders and muscles strained against his uniform. With his dark reddish skin and long, thick, braided hair, he had to be Native American. He had the bluest eyes.

He clutched her arm and steadied her. “Can you walk? You appear to be intoxicated.”

Eric gained ground. She pointed. “That man’s following me. He scares me.”

The officer peered over her head. “You’ve got a right to be scared.”

Eric skidded to them. “Blackstone, what are you doing here?”

Blackstone shrugged. “My town. What are you doing here, Wyvern?”

Eric nodded at Cassandra. “She’s my mate. I’ve come for her.”

“No, no, I’m not,” Cassandra insisted. “Keep him away from me.”

Eric stepped toward her and Blackstone blocked his path. “The little lady doesn’t want to go with you Wyvern.”

“Out of my way, Blackstone,” Eric commanded.

Cassandra pointed at the Galena Mountain Street Inn. “My-my-my hotel’s right over there.”

“Go,” Blackstone said. “Now. While you still can.”

Eric hissed.

“Wyvern, now you need to get out of my town or you and I are going to have a problem. You can’t come and snatch humans when you want to. Got it?”

Eric narrowed his eyes. “You threatening me?”

“I’m not a puny human you can make cower, Wyvern, so don’t go there.”

Humans again? This was more of a nightmare than a dream.

Cassandra bolted toward the Inn. She whipped open the main door and ran up the stairs, stumbling into walls and tripping over her own feet. Panting, she stopped at the top of the stairs. The hallway swirled. Putting her palm on her forehead, she wobbled toward her room.

She turned the lock on her door and sprinted to the bathroom. She shuddered. Kneeling in front of the white toilet, she slammed opened the lid and lost her dinner. She sobbed and slumped, cradling her head in her arms on the toilet seat.

Someone pounded on her door. She tore herself away from the toilet and locked the bathroom door. Was it Blackstone or Eric?

“Wraith, open the damn door.”

Shit, it was Eric. Firm footsteps marched across her bedroom floor. She lurched away from the toilet and the bathroom door. She leaned against the wall and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Perspiration trickled down her face.

The doorknob unlocked and turned. Her stomach twirled.

She crawled over to the cabinet and opened the doors. Clean pipes. Stacks of toilet paper. Two burgundy towels. Nothing. What was she going to do, throw at bar of soap at his head or whip him with a towel?

She had fingernails. Long red ones. She’d get him to leave her alone.

Eric stepped into the bathroom. His eyes narrowed and his mouth set in a straight line.

She threw a plastic trashcan at him.

He easily sidestepped it. Tissue fell all over the floor.

“Get away from me!”

He took a step toward her. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I mean it. Stay away.”

His brown eyes turned red. He lowered himself to where she huddled on the floor. He reached for her.

Cassandra dug her nails into his hands.

His eyes widened and he flinched.

“Don’t touch me.”

Ebony wings flashed behind his back like switch blades.

She jumped back. Her head slammed against the wall. “What the hell are you? Get away from me.”

He lunged for her.

Cassandra screamed.

The Wraith appeared and snapped her fingers. Everything went black.

7

Eric cradled Cassandra's limp body close to his chest.

The Wraith pointed. “The portal will open when you arrive at the park, Prince.”

The Wraith disappeared leaving him alone with Cassandra. Not exactly how he'd wanted this to go. Her jasmine scent calmed the rising frustrations inside him. She had no idea the power she had over him.

When Cassandra had left the restaurant, the dragon fire roared within him, and he lost his mind. His mate had skipped out on him. No woman had ever done this to him. At least, not in the Underworld.

What the hell was Aiden Blackstone doing in Frisco? The Kachina spirit had left the Underworld years ago and now just happened to be a cop in Frisco? His heart stopped when Blackstone almost hit Cassandra with his car, but she'd torn it out of his chest when she denied being his mate. How was he going to convince her and get her to accept her fate?

Every time he appeared in Cassandra’s dreams, he had no problem charming her. His plan of wooing her had gone up in smoke. He should have known summoning the Wraith would have frightened her, but he’d hoped it would have created a bond between them.

He headed toward Walter Byron Park. Cassandra moaned in his arms and he ran his palm over her back, trying to calm her.

“I’m here Wraith.” The ivory covered park grumbled and a large crack formed, swallowing trees, swings and a slide. Bracing Cassandra against his chest, Eric soared into the pit. Mist and chilly air swarmed around him as he crossed the barrier between Earth and the Underworld. Wind screamed in his ears. He turned her head and admired his sleeping beauty.

Her sweet breath caressed his neck and a strand of her silky hair brushed his face. Raging desire surged through him. The dragon fire roared, demanding he take her. “No.”

He fought the darkness. He would never take Cassandra against her will. She was his mate. A mate was cherished, loved, honored.

Through the whirling tornado, the Underworld’s two suns burned bright. The tornado dissipated into a tiny cloud of dust as the opening closed and Eric sped toward Basilisk Castle. He passed the small village of Hydra. Demons worked and lived in the little village like their human counterparts, but now the darkness had overcome them and work consisted of honing their warrior skills. Squabbles of various sorts from minor to violent occurred daily, and what happened at the nearby middle and elementary school—straight out of nightmares. He had to find a way to stop the madness.

His father had loved the ocean and built the structure in the shape of a ship. It offered comfort to those living and toiling in the village, but his father also ensured the castle was strategic in case of an attack. His father had kept the swift River Styx at its backside and dug a wide trench to protect the three remaining sides.

Now, day or night, Basilisk was the lair of dark despair. Its foul dungeons were filled with those who had not succumbed to the darkness. By his father’s royal decree, they would remain there indefinitely. No silver-eyed demons who valued their hides wanted to pass the fiery jaws of the fortress gates and find themselves in the Chamber, a vile place where Gryffin Drake delighted in using his wicked devices to elicit screams from his victims.