Demon Kissed (Cursed Angel Collection) Read online

  “He kills them for that?” I ask, unable to believe it’s possible.

  “He does,” she confirms. “I was born Green myself, but I’ve never had a large appetite. I can’t say the same of the other girls. He killed a friend of mine at breakfast once, simply because she gained weight and wouldn’t stop eating pastries.”

  “He sounds awful.” I shudder, even though after witnessing him incinerate that Red girl, I know he’s capable of such atrocities.

  But the murderous Ezekiel seems like a different person from the Zeke who walked me home and saved my life in that alley. I’m going to have to constantly remind myself that they’re not different people—they’re one and the same.

  It’s the only way I’ll be able to follow through with killing him.

  “He mostly is awful,” Gloria agrees, but then she glances at a framed photograph—of what appears to be a younger version of her with Ezekiel. “But he’s also incredibly charming. I have many fond memories of the year I was a concubine. When he’s happy, he’s capable of making you feel like you’re the most wonderful person in the entire world, cherished only by him.”

  “That’s the two of you together?” I motion to the photo.

  “Yes.” She brushes her fingers against it and smiles. She’s glowing with happiness in the photo, and while Zeke’s lips are turned up in a closemouthed smile, his eyes tell a different story—one of torment and distress. “It was taken at the bull ring—he brought us there to watch a fight from the royal box,” she says. “Right before that photo was taken, he killed the only other remaining concubine from my group. She said something to anger him—something about how sad she got whenever a bull was killed. He said she wouldn’t get sad if it was her the bull was running toward, and had his guards take her down to the ring to fight. She didn’t last a minute before the bull ripped her to pieces in front of the cheering crowd. I cheered the loudest of them all.”

  “So if something entertains Ezekiel, I must act entertained by it as well,” I surmise from the story. “Even if I’m horrified.”

  “You must if you want to survive,” Gloria says. “Each time he killed one of my fellow concubines, I pretended to be just as amused as he was. I knew if I didn’t, I would be next. Clearly, it worked, as here I am today. Alive.”

  “Have you heard from him since leaving the Watchtower?” I ask.

  “No.” She chuckles. “Soon after I moved out, he had ten new girls to keep him entertained. I was used up, old news. He’s barely glanced at me since.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, my heart going out to her.

  “Don’t be,” she says. “I got what I wanted. I’m a Gold. I have more wealth than I could ever dream of. Yes, I still want more, but given the curse, I’m as close to happy as I thought I could ever possibly be.”

  I frown, because “close” to happy hardly sounds like enough. “Thank you for taking the time to speak with me today,” I tell her. “I hope I’m able to please him even half as much as you were.”

  “Do not hope,” she says sternly. “If you only hope, you will fail. You must do as I’ve said. It’s the only way to survive.”

  “You will survive.” Teresa watches me closely, as if she refuses to accept any other outcome.

  “I will,” I vow, my gaze unwavering. “I’ll do more than survive. Because I’m going to break this curse, and free the continent from Ezekiel forever.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  The feast isn’t until tonight, but a chauffeur arrives in a limo to pick me up that morning. I take a small bag of my favorite items—along with my violin, of course—since concubines aren’t supposed to bring much. Once we settle into our suites in the Watchtower, we’ll have access to anything we desire.

  “You’ll do great,” Teresa says, wrapping me in a hug.

  “Thanks.” I return her hug, and despite knowing that this is happening—that today’s the day—none of it feels real. I don’t think it will feel real until I’m inside the Watchtower, or until I see Zeke.

  “Just remember everything Gloria told you,” Teresa says, pulling away. “Stay alive, okay?”

  “I will,” I promise, although I feel hollow as I say it, since it’s technically not a promise I know I can keep.

  It doesn’t take long to get to the Watchtower. It’s a cloudy, depressing day, but the sides of the Watchtower are so shiny that they gleam anyway. It’s as if the tower itself is a beacon of light and hope to everyone in the city. But it’s a lie. A mirage, placed there to make the citizens believe that this cursed life isn’t as terrible as it might sometimes feel.

  The driver drops me off at the side door I entered for the ball. I go into the same waiting room, and find that most of the other girls are already there. I spot Elizabeth and hurry to her side.

  “I heard a rumor that you would be here, but I didn’t believe it until seeing it with my own eyes,” she says with a huge smile. “How did it all happen?”

  I summarize the story for her as quickly as possible, leaving out the personal contents of Ezekiel’s letter. His words were for my eyes only. I didn’t even like that Teresa and Marco had read them, although I didn’t have much choice there, since they would have read the letter regardless.

  “Wow,” she says once I finish telling the story. “I knew something was strange when he didn’t choose you—he almost always chooses the woman he dances with first. But none of that matters now—I’m just so glad you’re here with me.”

  “I’m glad I’m here, too,” I say, since it’s true—although not for the reasons everyone else might expect.

  Another woman enters—Maria—and I’m unsurprised to see that her everyday clothes of a tight skirt and a crop top don’t leave much to the imagination. Once she’s inside, a Gold guard member locks the door.

  I count the girls in the room—there are ten of us, including me.

  “Shouldn’t there be eleven of us?” I scan the room again and try to remember exactly whom Ezekiel originally chose. I don’t remember each of their names, but I do know there were three Silvers, four Greens, and three Reds.

  Now there are only two Silvers. Elizabeth and another woman who stands at the other side of the room. Her nose is upturned, and she refuses to look at us—I assume she views us as her fiercest competition.

  “There are only ten concubine suites,” Elizabeth says. “I suppose Ezekiel revoked Patricia’s invitation when he invited you.”

  “Oh.” I frown, hoping he only “revoked” it and didn’t do anything too extreme—such as eliminating her existence altogether.

  But I don’t have much time to worry about it, because the guard comes around and has us each press our thumb against a scanning device so we’ll have access to Ezekiel’s private elevators. I smile when he comes around to me, happily letting him scan my thumb.

  It’s a small thing, but being given access to Ezekiel’s private elevators makes me feel one step closer to finding the Flaming Sword.

  “We’ll be assigning each of you a personal servant,” he says once he finishes scanning our thumbs. “Whenever you need something, you’ll call upon them. Now, I’ll introduce you, and they’ll escort you to your suites.”

  My servant’s name is Martha—she’s small, timid, and appears to be only a few years older than I am. As expected, she’s a Red.

  She barely speaks to me as she leads me to the elevator. Once inside, she presses the button for floor forty-nine—the top-most one there.

  “What floor is Ezekiel’s?” I ask.

  “The same as yours.” She doesn’t meet my eyes when she speaks. “Only the concubines are allowed to live on the same floor as His Highness.”

  “Wonderful.” I smile—since I am happy to hear it. Better access to Ezekiel is beneficial to my mission.

  My ears pop as the elevator ascends, and soon it lets us out on the forty-ninth floor. The hallway is stunningly beautiful, with marbled floors, black shiny walls, and a mirrored ceiling. It’s crisp and elegant, like everything i
n the Watchtower.

  Another elevator dings, and I glance behind me to see another girl step out with her servant—the young Red named Yolanda. She wraps her arms around herself, looking scared and out of place. I shoot her a small smile in the hopes of giving her a bit of comfort. Happiness warms my stomach when she smiles in return.

  Martha quickens her pace, and I hurry to keep up with her. We pass many double-door entrances, eventually stopping at one near the end. Suite 4901. There’s only one suite farther along—suite 4900, at the end of the hall. Unlike the other rooms we passed, it has intricate columns around the entrance.

  “Is that Ezekiel’s suite?” I ask Martha.

  “Yes.” Martha nods.

  She doesn’t elaborate further, instead instructing me to place my thumb on the keypad to suite 4901—the place destined to be my new home until the completion of my mission.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  The room is huge and stunning. It’s decorated in the same flashy style as the rest of the Watchtower, and Martha leads me from room to room for the grand tour. It’s a two-bedroom suite, although the second bedroom has a door that leads to the first, and Martha refers to it as my “dressing area.” Apparently, the second room is meant to be a massive closet, to hold all the clothes, shoes, and accessories I can dream of owning. Right now, only a few items are inside. It’s expected that I’ll fill it up during my time living in the Watchtower—if I live long enough to do so.

  “There are call buttons in every room, next to the light switches,” Martha says, showing me the one closest to where we’re standing. “Press it whenever you need assistance.”

  “Are there certain times when you’re not available?” I ask.

  “I’m always available,” she says. “I live in the servants’ quarters of the Watchtower. It will never take me more than five minutes to reach you. You’ll also have a Gold guard stationed outside your suite at all times when you’re inside of it, so if you have an emergency, you can go to him.”

  She makes it sound as if the Gold guard is there to protect me, but I can’t help but feel like he’s also there to keep me in. As if I’m some kind of prisoner.

  “I’m allowed to leave my room on my own if I want to, right?” I ask, needing reassurance that I won’t be on complete lockdown all the time.

  “Of course,” Martha says. “Your guard will escort you everywhere you go—for your protection—but you are free to go wherever you please.”

  I let out a breath, since it’s better than being a prisoner. Not much better—since the guard will know my whereabouts at all times—but at least I’ll have some level of autonomy while I’m here.

  I don’t have much time to settle in before Martha returns to help prepare me for the feast. There are still a few hours to go, but it turns into an entire process—complete with a massage, a facial, manicure, pedicure, hair styling, and makeup. There aren’t many items in my closet, but she recommends a beautiful gold gown that matches the tattoos around my wrists—as if to remind everyone watching that I’m a Gold.

  I try to ask Martha about her life—since perhaps I can gain information from her about the whereabouts of the Flaming Sword—but she divulges nothing, instead always diverting the subject back to a topic about me. It’s the same when I ask her about her life in the Watchtower. Her life is either extraordinarily boring, or she’s talented at holding her tongue.

  Eventually, it’s time for the feast, and Martha gives me one last look over. “Perfect,” she says with a satisfied smile. “You look breathtaking.”

  I glance again at my reflection and stand straighter, unable to refrain from smiling at what I see. Because in my puffy red gown for the ball, I looked like a princess.

  In this gold shimmering gown, I look like a queen.

  I thank her for her help, and she hands me off to the Gold guard outside my room. I’m thrilled when I see his familiar face—Carlos.

  “You’re my guard?” I beam, feeling like it’s too good to be true.

  “Yes.” He nods and returns my smile. “All guards remain with the lady they originally escorted at the ball.”

  “I’m glad of it,” I say, meaning it. Because even though I don’t know Carlos well, I do trust him.

  He leads me to the elevator, and we descend to the first floor, taking back hallways to get around once we’re there. “Other than Ezekiel and the ten women he selected, the feast is also attended by the top Gold guards, and the women who have survived a year as a concubine,” he says as we walk. “All the current concubines arrive and are seated in order of caste.”

  “So I’m the last to arrive—besides Ezekiel,” I realize.

  “Yes.” He stops in front of a large double-door entrance. “I’ll escort you to your spot at the table, and then join my fellow guards at our table nearby. Are you ready?”

  “Ready as I’ll ever be.” I take a deep breath, allowing Carlos to link his arm through mine and walk me into the room.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Just like everywhere else in the Watchtower, the room for the feast is over-the-top elegant. It’s about half the size of the ballroom, but that in no way takes away from its grandness. The ceilings are high, the floors intricate marble, and in the center of the room—right below a gigantic mirrored chandelier—is an elevated table where the other concubines already sit.

  As Carlos told me, Gold guard members sit in small circular tables throughout the room. Near the back, I spot a few small tables with older Gold women. I suspect they’re the surviving concubines, and my suspicion proves correct when I spot Gloria among them.

  There are also men with cameras against the walls, which reminds me of what Ezekiel said at the ball—the event will be televised. A woman stands in front of one of the cameras—a Green—and as I pass, I hear her report on who I am and where I’m from.

  “Adriana’s being here is already the talk of the continent,” the reporter continues. “Not only is she the first Gold to audition in decades and chosen for the first dance, but Ezekiel didn’t even initially select her to be a concubine! For the first time in history, His Highness had a change of heart and extended an invitation to Adriana at some point after the ball. That’s all we know at the time, but given how unprecedented all of this is, I say she’s certainly one to watch.”

  Carlos escorts me away from her and toward the only empty seat that’s not at the head of the table. I’m thrilled—and relieved—to find I’m next to Elizabeth.

  “Your dress is beautiful,” she says as I sit down.

  “Thank you,” I say. I look around at everyone else, glad none of the other women are wearing the same color. They’ve all been quiet since I approached the table, and I take my cues from Elizabeth’s actions when I entered the audition room on the first day—to chat as if I’m not bothered by their silence. “How’d it go with getting settled in?” I ask her.

  “Wonderfully!” She brings her hands together and gushes about the luxury of her accommodations. The other girls chime in. Soon enough, we’re all talking about the process of preparing for the feast. They were all pampered as much as I was. As we chat, it’s like our caste colors are erased, and we’re simply ten girls chosen for the experience of a lifetime.

  If any of them are fearful about becoming a victim of Ezekiel’s wrath, they don’t show it.

  “Even my toenails are painted!” Yolanda gushes from the other end of the table. “I’ve never known anyone with painted toes.”

  “Get used to it,” the other Silver—Josefina—says. “Remember—no matter where we came from, we’ll be treated as Golds from now until the day we die.”

  Her eyes are hard and full of ambition, and everyone hushes at the reminder of death.

  “There’s no need to get all serious.” Maria smiles smugly and adjusts the top of her dress, making her breasts pop out more than they already were. “After all, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I plan on surviving. And while I’m here, I’m going to enjoy every second of it.�
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  “I’m sure you will,” a smooth, familiar voice says from the head of the table.

  I turn to see Ezekiel standing behind his seat, and he smirks as he stares at Maria, like a predator eyeing up his prey.

  “Although I assure you that you won’t enjoy it nearly as much as I.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Champagne is poured, and I feel Ezekiel’s eyes on me as my glass is filled. He raises his glass once everyone has been served.

  “To the start of an… entertaining year,” he says, and then he downs the entire glass in one gulp. A server is beside him immediately to refill it.

  I take a small sip of my champagne, making sure to smile after tasting it. Because like Gloria taught me, if Ezekiel enjoys something, I must show that I enjoy it as well.

  Anything else risks angering him and facing possible death.

  “You like it?” he asks, and it takes me a second to realize he’s speaking to me.

  “Yes,” I say, taking another sip to show my appreciation. “I love it.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” His eyes turn intense, and it suddenly feels like we’re the only two people in the room. “And I’m pleased you accepted my change of heart. After the letter I sent, I was sure you would say no… but it appears you never cease to surprise me, Adriana.”

  “I don’t see why it’s such a surprise,” I say playfully. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since we met.”

  “Neither have I.” His eyes darken, and I realize our hands are so close together that if one of us moved an inch forward, we would be touching.

  But he leans back, breaking the connection by shifting his attention to the other girls at the table. He asks each of them a question, but I’m so distracted by the connection I just felt between us that I barely hear what they’re saying.