Only One I Want (UnHallowed Series Book 2) Read online

  The tunnel opened to a large circular room with another tunnel branching off it, ending in another circular room and one empty bedroom at the end. Her new home wasn’t hers alone. She wasn’t quite sure how she felt about that, about him living beneath her feet in these austere quarters.

  Amaya pushed the thought away. They had a job to do, so Bane being here was practical. As long as they stayed out of each other’s way—he in the basement, she in the rooms upstairs—things would be fine. She’d find a way to share the house until the Cruor was safe. She had a home now, and no one, human or otherwise, would keep her from enjoying it.

  Amaya left the bedroom and walked down the dim tunnel. “Bane.” His name rushed out of her in a breathy whisper she hated. She almost didn’t see him standing along the wall at the opposite end of the tunnel.

  Had he been there all this time? Watching her? He had on a gray button-down shirt, the collar open, the cuffs rolled up, exposing his thick forearms, paired with dark jeans, and the same boots from before. The belt buckle was matted silver. He looked…good. His hair was orderly again, cropped close on the sides with just enough on top to grab. Not that he looked bad when he was dressed all in black and cloaked.

  Amaya cleared her throat and forced her thoughts away from the wayward path it had taken. “Are you responsible for buying the house and my mother’s bank account? The stocks also?”

  “No. Michael took care of that. I took care of this.”

  Figures! She snorted. He placed Bane on the mortgage to tie her hands. She couldn’t evict the man legally or otherwise with his name on the deed. Michael! That sneaky bastard. She stepped closer and pointed a finger above her head. “What about the furniture upstairs? The clean bedroom?”

  “I found almost everything in the attic and the barn. Figured you could use a head start on decorating. I’m sure it’s not your style. At least you have something to eat on, sleep on.”

  His kindness temporarily rendered her speechless. “Umm, thanks.” She didn’t know what else to say around the sudden anxiety tightening her stomach. She wasn’t afraid, just…nervous.

  “Tell me about you and Michael,” he demanded.

  His command didn’t surprise her. He had to ask and she was prepared to answer. “None of your business.”

  He ignored her and continued. “He doesn’t seem very protective of you. He treats you more like a tool to be used than someone he values.”

  The barb struck deep. She folded her arms to keep him from seeing her clenched hands. “He trusts me to get the job done.”

  “How did you end up with him? Michael doesn’t interact with humans by accident. In layman’s terms, you two didn’t bump into each other at the local supermarket. Did your UnHallowed father hand you over to the archangel? Do you even know who your father is?”

  Amaya seethed. Her fingers curled and released on their own accord. “I never had the pleasure of meeting Richard Prince, my father, because he died on a stretch of road minutes before I was born. My paternal grandparents raised me because my maternal, Caucasian grandparents wanted nothing to do with their biracial granddaughter. They were from the South and hadn’t evolved. Pop and Granny told me all about their son, the first of the family to graduate from college, who had just landed a job with GE as an engineer. He loved football and could’ve moonlighted as a pastry chef. He had a serious sweet tooth that forced him to learn how to bake. Oh, and he was excited about being a father. Any more questions?”

  Bane dipped his head. “Sorry. I want to understand how you came into Michael’s possession.”

  She bristled and had to refrain from reaching for the dagger at her hip. A few deep breaths and she spat, “No one possesses me. Got it? No one.”

  He gave her a clipped nod.

  She focused on the wall beside his head until she didn’t feel like stabbing him. “So why are you here at Michael’s beck and call?” A bit of red expanded around his irises and she gave an inner cheer. “I didn’t think you were a follower, the type to take orders. I see I was wrong.”

  A half smile she’d become accustomed to, raised the corner of his mouth. Not an ounce of humor reached his semi-red eyes. “The UnHallowed need direction, unity. We need to come out of the shadows and be of use. We need to return to Heaven, as equals, not fallen scum. I’m the one who will deliver all of that to them.”

  His anger reached across the distance, caused the fine hairs on her arms to stand at attention. “So, that’s what you want, to return to Heaven?”

  “As an archangel with my wings.”

  Good to know. “And that’s why you’re here.”

  His gaze skimmed down her body and climbed back up. “Among other reasons.”

  Goose bumps flashed across her skin. Not from a chill, but from an internal roasting. “The basement is yours. I really don’t care what you do with it. The house is mine. You are not welcome upstairs without my permission.”

  With a slow, relaxed stroll, Bane closed the distance between them. Amaya curled her fingers, prepared to battle, and stood her ground.

  “Plan on keeping me in the basement like a pet? Plan on throwing me scraps? Petting me on occasion?” The last sentence was drawn out until it was a paragraph. He stepped into her personal space so that he filled her vision. Now, she felt threatened by the heat radiating from his body, the leather and night scent clinging to him, filling her nostrils, and the frantic beating of her heart.

  He mumbled something and made a sound close to a purr, then he licked his lips. “I like being stroked. I’ll show you where.”

  She darted for the tunnel to the stairs. She couldn’t help it. Either she ran or he’d see the trembling in her limbs.

  “Amaya.”

  His sharp use of her name halted her on the stairs.

  “I’m not your dirty secret. I’m your partner. My name is on the deed to this property, next to yours. That means you can’t keep me out, can’t disinvite me. I created this basement for the daytime, when I can’t be upstairs. As soon as the sun sets, I will go anywhere I please, anywhere in this house, at any time.”

  Not if she had anything to say about it, and she did. Although, at the moment, she hadn’t a clue what to say or how to stop him, but that would change, and when it did…Bane would regret it.

  Or she would.

  10

  Taige peered from the recesses of a marble alcove in the private penthouse suite of his master’s casino in Las Vegas. He scanned the sun-drenched room, his gaze touching on several CEOs from various conglomerates around the world and dignitaries who, for the first time, had gathered for a clandestine celebration. A member of their inner circle had been elected prime minister of his country. Another gateway to unfettered wealth had opened. More money to line his master’s pockets. More power to wield in order to line his pockets, instead of controlling humanity, finding the Cruor, freeing their trapped brethren from the depths of Hell.

  Tonight, it was his assignment, both with direct interaction and preternatural means, to study his master’s partners and competitors. What better time than a celebration to do both.

  Taige gritted his teeth and left his seclusion. He circled the room, gleaning tidbits of conversations along the way. He paused to speak with a flunky of the British ambassador. The man had spent a lengthy amount of time schmoozing with his master. Taige exchanged pleasantries with the young man and planted the impression that he was a trustworthy confidante, available for discrete conversations any time of the day or night. Then Taige delved deep into the man’s psyche for a cursory scan of his memories.

  He pulled away and gave a mental spat. The human was in love. His thoughts centered on a woman he’d spent the night with. Taige pushed past the useless longing and traveled deeper. His master wanted information on the British government and wouldn’t be forgiving if Taige failed.

  He found some useful information and excused himself from the young man. Agon, a fellow Spaun, watched him from his position against a far wall. Taige schooled h
is features into a pleasant demeanor and moved on. He circled the room, his pace leisurely as he weaved through the CEOs and their female companions. A few females threw him a sultry, though covert, glance. The form he’d chosen was pleasing to the eye— tall, lean, with the appropriate amount of muscles, clean shaven with cropped blond hair. He copied the form after a picture of a male on a movie poster he’d seen after escaping Hell.

  The females wasted their time and efforts. The last thing Taige wanted from any human was copulation. Unfortunately, his master didn’t share the same opinion. He had already chosen his bed partner for the night. The female in the green dress would enjoy his attention, though enjoyment came in a variety of forms. What was pleasure to one, was pain to another. Either way, if she was fortunate, she wouldn’t remember much.

  His master laughed and the sound cascaded through the room, picked up and replicated by all in attendance, except him. Ninety percent had no idea why they laughed, the sycophants. Taige smirked, aware of the irony. He was the sycophant, at least that was his official job in Hell and here on earth. Catering to his master’s needs defined his existence. But his bootlicking came with conditions, conditions his master hadn’t met in decades.

  They escaped from Hell to conquer and pave the way for the others. Not to eat, drink, fuck, swill with the humans like pigs in slop. They came here to conquer the world, not the stock market. He needed to get back to the farm, back to his search for the Cruor. It was the one thing that could alter the tides on the mockery his master had made of their presence on earth.

  “Taige!”

  He jerked to a halt and turned slowly to face Agon. “Yes?”

  “Did you not hear me call you?” Agon stepped closer.

  “Obviously not since I didn’t respond. What can I help you with this evening?”

  “That is a question I was about to ask you. You are distracted, which is unusual for one with such focus.” Agon eyed Taige suspiciously.

  Once again, Taige schooled his features into the passive acceptance that was expected. “Only because of the amount of people here. I worry about his safety.”

  Agon’s voice lowered. “Your worry is commendable, but unnecessary. Our master is more than capable of taking care of anyone foolish enough to threaten him in any way.”

  Taige tipped his head and said, “You are correct.” He walked away before what he really wanted to say slipped free. Soon, he promised himself as thoughts of opening the Cruor teased him. Soon all the Spaun and Darklings would know his contempt for the one he called Master. But first, he had to get it, then find a way to open it.

  At the earliest opportunity, he slipped out of a side door and ran down the back staircase to the garage. With a flex of his power, he destroyed the surveillance camera and most of the overhead lights. With the darkness, came the Darklings drawn to him by their symbiotic coupling. They frothed outside the circle of light he stood in.

  A car door slammed and he targeted his first victim. A purple muscle car screeched into the garage, tires smoking. The driver whipped into a parking spot and exited the car full of swagger. Taige targeted his second victim. The third victim exited an SUV. All three headed for the elevators. One complained about the broken lights. The other two agreed about the shoddy management. The moment they crossed from the light into the murkiness, the Darklings struck. The struggle was over before they had a chance to react. He gave all the Darklings their instructions and returned to the party.

  “Salute!” Someone shouted and glasses were lifted in the air.

  Taige grabbed a glass of champagne from a waitress carrying a tray and joined the sycophants. “To Malphas!” he shouted and downed the foul liquid, using it as fuel to spark his grand ambitions, the death of a Demoni Lord.

  11

  Amaya called the bank. Having money really did bring privilege. Being the owner of a large account got her an after-hours meeting with the manager, at a time when she could leave the property in Bane’s care. She spent the earlier part of the day checking out the barn—there wasn’t anything useful in there—and mapping the land. It was her first home and she wanted to know every inch of it. There were benefits to having tall grass, traps she could hide. What if an animal stumbled into one and died? No, the grass would have to go, just not today.

  By the time sunset arrived, she was beyond sweaty and dirty. Still, she showered, grabbed all her paperwork, and headed to town. Bane was on the sagging porch, leaning on a warped post when she drove away, the last rays of the sun fading into the night.

  The bank manager was strangely accommodating, as if he had expected her call. He even opened a line of credit for her until all the paperwork cleared. Next, she stopped by the local home improvement store and got the names of a few contractors. It was close to midnight by the time she made it back to her apartment.

  This was her pattern for the next four days. Fourteen hours at the house, her evenings spent away from the place, making arrangements. She hadn’t seen Bane since that second day. Oh, she felt his presence, caught his scent time and again. She honored her word and never ventured to the basement even though he disregarded her wishes by being everywhere and nowhere, felt but unseen. Unnerved, she took to staying on the porch most of her shift.

  Today, she had arrived at the house more excited than the last few days. The architect would be there soon. They’d discuss taking the planks off the windows, fixing the leaky roof in the kitchen, and the sagging porch. She wanted to replace the railing to the stairs, gut the kitchen, and replace everything in it. She wanted her dream house, even bought magazines to show the architect what she had in mind.

  She didn’t have to wait long. By the time she finished her cream cheese bagel and coffee, a green Land Rover coasted to a stop at the end of the overgrown driveway. Holding a copy of Home and Garden, Amaya waited on the porch as the architect threaded his way through the tall grass between the road and the house. He was her height—five feet, ten inches—and leaner than she liked with a bit of salt at his temples.

  “This is a great piece of land. Lots of acreage to do whatever you want.”

  “Thank you.” Amaya held out her hand which he held a bit too long and stood a bit too close. It was flattering, except she didn’t know if he did it because he was truly interested in her or the contract for redesigning the house.

  The porch squealed under his weight and he gave a nod. “It’s tilted and warped, that’s why it does that.”

  She smiled instead of addressing his condescending tone.

  “Do you plan on farming?”

  She shook her head. “A farmer I’m not. Though I wouldn’t mind a garden. Vegetables and herbs.”

  “Good idea. We’ll include a garden in the landscaping plans. We can put in a pool and a nice backyard, if you have room in your budget.”

  A nice way of saying if you can afford it.

  He followed her into the house, pausing inside the doorway. “The first thing we’ll do is remove the boards from the windows and get some light into the place.”

  “What’s the second thing you will do?”

  They both turned at the unexpected voice. Bane stood in a corner of the room, in a patch of darkness untouched by the light seeping between the boarded windows and open front door. A muscle ticked in his left temple, though his gaze was clear of any red.

  “Hello.” The architect glanced between Amaya and Bane, the speculation on his face apparent. “I didn’t see you there.” He stepped forward and extended his hand.

  Bane didn’t move and he didn’t return the greeting. His gaze shifted to Amaya. “Send him away. Or I will.”

  The architect sputtered and drew himself up to his full height, three inches shorter than Bane. In a blink, Bane had the guy by his expensive lapels with his loafers two inches off the ground, bringing him eye level. Red had almost completely swallowed Bane’s irises. The architect’s sputtering stopped and he slumped in Bane’s hands.

  Bane’s cool gaze swallowed Amaya. Beams of light le
aked through the uneven slats of the warped window planks and burned dime-sized circles onto his forehead and the side of his neck. “You took too long.” His crimson gaze ended and he set the guy on his feet. “Send him on his way now.” Power rolled in his voice.

  Amaya was just as frozen, though not from Bane’s power. He hadn’t taken her will, shock had taken her ability to speak. She wanted to say, how dare you, like a damsel in distress, but her lips refused to move.

  “You’re going to go home, have a nice brunch and all you will remember of this day is that you came, saw the property, and declined the job. It was too small for your skills. Now, on your way.” He ruffled the guy’s hair. Like a good little boy, the architect wheeled about and walked out of the door, while Bane retreated deeper into the house.

  Amaya followed her nemesis through the living room and halfway through the dining room before she mustered the ability to shout, “What the hell? How dare—this is my house! I can do what the hell I—”

  He took her by the arms, his grip biting into her skin as she struggled to be free. “How do you know that wasn’t a Spaun? Unlike Darklings, which are a bit more substantial than mist, Spaun can shape shift, be anyone. That’s why Michael only wanted you and me to guard this place. Why he trusted us and no one else.”

  She stilled, dread tightening her chest until she couldn’t breathe. “I didn’t…”

  His palms smoothed down her bare arms, leaving goose bumps in their wake. “It’s okay. He wasn’t one. He crossed the threshold without an invite. Demons can’t enter a home without one. That’s why Michael put my name on the deed. Plus, I would have sensed it when I touched him, but you wouldn’t have. He would’ve forced you to tell him where the Cruor was, then killed you whether or not you gave him the information.”