Demon Kissed (Cursed Angel Collection) Read online

  Chapter Thirty-One

  I barely sleep. My mind whirs with memories of the ball, replaying the night as I try to figure out what went wrong. But I come up with nothing. One moment, I was confident that Ezekiel favored me. The next, he acted as if I didn’t exist.

  I suppose that trying to rationalize the situation is silly. After all, he’s a demon. Demons are even more erratic than witches.

  Well, than most witches. I must admit that Teresa and Marco have begun to change my mind about their species.

  I wake with the sun the next morning and get dressed, styling my hair and makeup in a way that I know brings out Adriana’s beauty. Once finished, I stare at my reflection and take a deep breath.

  The plan is crazy. Nothing will stop him from incinerating me on the spot.

  But it’s the only plan I have. And at this point, I have nothing to lose. After all, I remember the way he looked at me both times we met on the street, and when he danced with me at the ball. I remember the way he kissed me in the alley. I know that demons can’t truly care for people, but if he wanted me dead, he could have let those Red thieves kill me. Instead, he saved my life.

  There must be a part of him that wants me to remain alive.

  I remind myself of that as I leave my room, walk down the steps, and head for the front door.

  But when I go to open the door, it’s stuck. I pull at it harder, but it’s no use. No matter how hard I try, the door refuses to budge. I try the back door as well, but it’s the same thing. Even the windows are impossible to pry open.

  “Teresa!” I march up to the master bedroom and fling the doors open. She and Marco are fast asleep, but she stirs, moving slowly to see what’s going on. “Did you cast some kind of spell to keep me locked in the house?”

  She sits up and stretches, a satisfied smile on her face. Marco stays where he is and pulls the blanket over his head.

  “It’s a boundary spell, and until I lift it, no one’s getting in or out of this house,” she says, still smiling smugly. “I can’t allow you to follow through with your crazy plan to confront Ezekiel.”

  “Why not?” I cross my arms and glare at her. “Do you have any better ideas about how to proceed with the mission?”

  “No,” she admits. “But we’ll figure one out. There has to be another way we can approach this—a way that won’t get my sister killed.”

  “Ezekiel’s not going to kill me,” I say. “If he wanted me dead, he would have let those Reds kill me in that alley. He wouldn’t have gone out of his way to save my life.”

  “You’re giving him too much credit,” she says. “You forget that I’ve seen him with his concubines before. Certain ones always capture his attention, infatuating him for a brief period. Most of them end up dead. Because he kills them. He’s a monster. You—an angel—should know that better than anyone else.”

  “I do,” I say. “But I honestly don’t think he wants me dead. At least not right now.”

  “Why not?” She sneers. “What makes you so special?”

  I search for an answer, but nothing comes to me. Luckily, I don’t have to respond, because someone rings the doorbell, interrupting the conversation.

  I hurry to the window, anxious to see who it is. “It’s one of the guards,” I say, pressing a hand against the glass. “Carlos—the one who escorted me to the ball last night. He’s holding…” I squint, making sure I’m seeing this right. “A large envelope. Some kind of letter?”

  Marco throws the comforter off himself and gets out of bed, walking over to the window. Teresa huffs and comes over to join us.

  “Remove the spell,” Marco says to Teresa. “We should hear what he has to say.”

  “I’ll remove the spell, but she’s not getting anywhere near the doors,” she says, glancing at me. “You two stay up here. I’ll go down and see what he wants.” She throws a shawl over her shoulders and heads out, leaving Marco and me alone.

  I move to follow her, but he hurries in front of the door, barring my exit.

  “You’re really going to go along with whatever she says?” I ask him. “You haven’t even said what your opinion is about my plan.”

  “Your plan is impulsive and it puts Adriana at risk,” he says bluntly.

  “Auditioning to be a concubine also put Adriana at risk,” I point out. “But the two of you supported me in that.”

  “That’s different,” he says. “If you were chosen, you would do everything possible to placate Ezekiel, to keep him from lashing out at you. This plan to confront him will only anger him. It will surely get you—and Adriana—killed.”

  “I won’t ‘confront’ him, per se,” I tell him. “I’ll just… nicely ask him if he might consider changing his mind.”

  “Questioning Ezekiel’s decision will anger him,” he says, his eyes strong and determined. “There’s no predicting what he’ll do when he’s angry. And I love Teresa, and I will not let her lose her sister.”

  I want to tell him he’s wrong, but I can’t fault him for doing what’s right by the woman he loves. So I walk back over to the window, catching sight of Carlos letting himself out through the gate. He’s no longer holding the letter.

  I try to open the window, but find the boundary spell back in place.

  Now that I’m trapped in the house again, I hurry downstairs, eager to find out why Carlos had stopped by.

  It had to have something to do with me. What else could it be?

  When I get downstairs, I find Teresa standing in the living room, the letter in her hand.

  “Well?” I ask. “What did he want?”

  “He came to deliver this.” She holds the letter up. “It has your name on it.”

  I take it from her, glad to see it’s unopened, and rip the seal. Inside, there’s a letter. It’s written in thick black ink, with beautiful penmanship. I glance at the bottom, curious who wrote it, and gasp when I see his name.

  Ezekiel.

  “What?” Teresa leans forward to peek at it. “What does it say?”

  “I haven’t read it yet.” I pull it to my chest to keep her from reading it before I can. “But it’s from Ezekiel.”

  Without another word, I hurry over to the couch, turn on the lamp beside it, and begin to read.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  My dearest Adriana,

  I’ve been up for hours contemplating how to start this letter. The truth is, I shouldn’t be writing it at all. I should let you go on with your life. I should let you find love and happiness, all while striving to stay away from you, to keep you from the dangers that constantly surround me.

  But I cannot. I tried—when I resisted calling your name at the end of the ball—but I desire you too much, and I’m far too selfish to let you go so easily.

  At the end of our shared dance, when I told you to get used to a life by my side, I meant it. I wanted you, you came to the ball for me, and I planned on having you. Not calling your name hadn’t crossed my mind.

  Then I lost my temper on that young woman. The darkness overtook my soul, and the next second, she was gone. I will not apologize for what I did, nor will I attempt to explain it. After all, you know what I am. A demon. Just as cursed as everyone else in this city.

  You knew it, but you came for me last night anyway.

  Immediately after incinerating her, I saw the horror on your beautiful face. In that moment, I realized—if my temper got away from me around you, what might stop me from losing control and lashing out at you the same way I did to her? Reducing you to nothing but a pile of ashes? I couldn’t put you in that position, nor could I forgive myself if I allowed that to happen. And so, for the first time in a long time, I put aside my own desires, not calling your name in an effort to keep you safely away from the darkness that haunts my soul.

  However, I’m no martyr, and I won’t pretend to be what I’m not. So I’m changing my mind. I want you, Adriana, and I’m inviting you to the grand feast in three days’ time, at eight in the evening, where you’ll b
e inaugurated as one of my ten chosen concubines and given a suite in the Watchtower for the next year.

  If you choose not to accept my invitation, I understand. Hell—I shouldn’t want you to accept, because if you don’t, you’ll be safe. But like I said, I’m selfish, and my desire to have you by my side has consumed me to the point where I can think of nothing else. If you’ll still have me, I hope to see you at the feast.

  Carlos will return tomorrow morning to retrieve your response. Make this decision carefully, Adriana. Your life may depend on it.

  Yours,

  Zeke

  I read the letter once more, my heart pounding with every word. Zeke didn’t reject me because he didn’t want me.

  He rejected me because he wanted to protect me.

  It’s almost as if he’s capable of love, and a part of me yearns to have that love all to myself. How must that feel—to be the one person in the world loved by a creature believed incapable of it? To be by his side as his queen?

  “Well?” Teresa taps her foot, snapping me out of my thoughts. “What does it say?”

  I blink, forcing myself to focus. Whatever I was feeling after reading that letter must have been the curse seeping its way into my heart. Those feelings couldn’t have been real. I’m being overtaken by greed for a love I can never have.

  And so, I push the feelings away, steadying my breathing and getting control over myself. I need to stay focused on my mission. Because Zeke being worried he might lose his temper on me and incinerate me is hardly romantic. He’s right—if he truly cared about me and believed himself capable of killing me, he would stay far away from me.

  But he’s not. Because he’s a demon… and no matter how tragically romantic his letter might be, demons don’t care about anyone but themselves. I can’t let myself forget that. I won’t.

  I hand the letter to Teresa, unable to appropriately summarize its contents in words. It’s best she read it herself.

  Marco hovers over her, and the two of them read it together, silently.

  “He’s giving you a choice?” Teresa says once she finishes reading it. “Since when does Ezekiel give anyone a choice?”

  “Never,” Marco says. “He doesn’t give choices. He gives demands.” He eyes me suspiciously. “What have you done to bewitch him like this?”

  “Nothing.” I hold my hands up in innocence. “At least, nothing that I know about. He must have some kind of… primal attraction to Adriana’s looks. It could explain why I was commanded specifically to enter her body.”

  “If that’s true, then I suppose Adriana would have become entwined with him whether you were here or not,” Teresa says.

  “Most likely,” I agree. “Although we’ll never know, because once I leave her body, Ezekiel will be dead.”

  “You’re accepting his offer, then?” Marco asks.

  “Of course I’m accepting his offer.” I take the letter back, my heart leaping at the sight of his beautiful handwriting. Stupid, cursed emotions. Fighting them again, I fold the letter so I can’t see its contents, hold it to my side, and explain. “Not only will living in the Watchtower be beneficial to my mission, but it also seems as if I’m already on the way to earning Ezekiel’s trust. If all goes as planned, it shouldn’t be long until I’m able to pry information from him about where he’s keeping the Flaming Sword. I’ll write my response now and have it ready for Carlos to pick up in the morning.”

  “Of course,” Teresa says, a shadow crossing her eyes. “But when you’re in the Watchtower, be careful not to do anything that might set him off. For my sister’s sake.”

  “I will,” I promise. “I actually have a plan to help me do that. But I’ll need your help.”

  “What kind of plan?” Marco looks worried.

  “Can you get me that meeting with the woman you know who survived a year in the Watchtower?” I ask. “Gloria?”

  “I can definitely do that.” Teresa nods. “In fact, I’ll get in contact with her at once.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Teresa and I head to Gloria’s apartment that afternoon. The building is small, but luxurious. The halls are bright and airy, with papered walls and decorative carpets. Even the air smells sweet and crisp.

  Gloria’s apartment is on the first floor. Once we arrive at the elegant double doors, Teresa knocks. There’s a shuffling from inside, and a few seconds later, the door opens.

  Gloria is around my height, and while she’s older, slightly hunched over, and her skin is wrinkled, I’m still able to see past that to the beauty she once was. And, of course, gold tattoos circle her wrists.

  “Hello, Teresa,” she says, and then she turns her gaze to me. Her eyes are green—emerald green—and they shine with love and kindness. “You must be Adriana,” she says with a smile. “Please, come in.” She opens the door wider, and both of us step inside. “I hope you’re hungry, because I’ve prepared cookies.”

  I step inside, the smell of chocolate engulfing me. If I wasn’t hungry before, I sure am now. Gloria ushers us to the living room, and Teresa and I take a seat while Gloria grabs the cookies from the kitchen. The apartment isn’t large—after all, it’s only meant for one person—but everything inside of it screams luxury. Not the flashy luxury of the Watchtower, but traditional luxury reminiscent of a time long past.

  “So,” I begin once we’re all seated and have started enjoying the cookies and drinks. “How do the two of you know each other?”

  “As Marco implied at the ball, Gloria is also a witch,” Teresa says.

  “I can’t believe you told her.” Gloria shakes her head.

  “I wouldn’t believe it either,” Teresa says. “I never planned on telling my sister. Except… the person we’re speaking to right now isn’t my sister.”

  “What do you mean?” Gloria asks. “I thought you were bringing your sister over so I can instruct her how to survive her year in the Watchtower? If this young lady isn’t your sister… then who is she?”

  “Technically, this is my sister,” Teresa says. “Well, it’s her body. Beyond that, it gets a bit complicated…”

  And together, Teresa and I catch Gloria up on everything she needs to know.

  “Well,” Gloria says once we finish the story. “I expected today would be exciting—I rarely get visitors anymore—but I didn’t realize it would be this exciting.”

  “You’ll help us, then?” I ask.

  “I thought I would die before seeing the continent released from this curse,” she says. “Now, I might be able to help break it. So yes—of course I’ll help.”

  “I’m so glad to hear it.” I make myself comfortable, ready to begin. “So… I guess we’ll just get down to business. What’s your advice about surviving life in the Watchtower?”

  “The only way to survive is to never anger Ezekiel,” she says, her eyes serious. “To do that, you must be graceful in your behavior, and always submit to his opinions. Show support of everything he does—even if it’s something so horrifying that it makes you feel sick.”

  “He incinerated a Red for tripping while she was dancing with him.” I shudder. “I have to support him even in that?”

  “You must,” she says. “Criticizing Ezekiel’s actions means criticizing who he is, and he doesn’t take that lightly. In my year, he killed a woman for simply looking at him wrong after he killed one of our fellow concubines.”

  “What else does he kill for?” I pick up a cup of tea to have something to do with my hands, but I realize I’m shaking and place it back down.

  “The concubines represent Ezekiel himself, and he hates when they look anything but their best,” she says. “You must keep up an image of perfection. Every morning when I lived in the Watchtower, I got dressed and ready as if I had a date with Ezekiel—even on days when I never saw him. He’ll sometimes call on concubines unannounced, and being unprepared to see him angers him, because it means he must wait around for you to get ready. Ezekiel hates waiting. It’s important to look fresh a
nd beautiful, even while sleeping. The only time I went without makeup was in the shower. I would freshen it up before going to bed and sleep with my face up to not cause any smudges, just in case he called on me in the night.”

  “And when he called on you in the night…” I swallow, dreading the answer to my question. “What did he expect from you?”

  “He expected what all men desire when they come to a beautiful woman’s bedroom in the middle of the night.” Gloria’s eyes sharpen, and for the first time since meeting her, I feel like she’s challenging me. “And he expects you to be happy to provide that to him. Surely you were aware of this when you decided to audition?”

  “I was,” I say, although for some reason, that part of being a concubine hadn’t felt real until this moment. “I’m simply… inexperienced in such matters, is all.”

  “A virgin.” Gloria smirks. “He’ll love that.”

  My cheeks heat, and I glance down at my lap, saying nothing.

  “Let’s pray that Rebekah completes her task before it gets that far.” Teresa snaps us both to attention, sitting stiffly in her seat. “She’s in the body of a Gold. Surely Ezekiel will show her the respect a Gold deserves.”

  “Perhaps,” Gloria says, although from her distant tone, I have a feeling she doesn’t believe it.

  “What else should she know before going into this?” Teresa asks, looking desperate to change the subject.

  “She should know not to eat too many cookies.” Gloria glances at my hand, which is midway toward reaching for a cookie.

  I pull it back, placing it in my lap.

  “Ezekiel chose his concubines based on the way they looked during the ball,” she continues. “As I’m sure you noticed, none of the women who made it past the checkpoint to the waiting room were heavy. You must make sure to keep your figure as close to the same size as possible. This is toughest for the Reds and Greens—most of them haven’t been exposed to the variety and abundance of food they’ll be given as a concubine. They overindulge and gain weight. Ezekiel doesn’t like that.”