Her Soul for Revenge (Souls Trilogy)
Her Soul for Revenge: Chapter 4

The blast splintered the beast’s head apart. It went down and curled like a bug, twitching violently before it was still. I exhaled heavily, catching my breath as I watched its body dissolve in mud and worms. They all died the same, these beasts; everything but their skulls rotted away within seconds.

Facing them used to fill me with cold panic. It used to make my heart beat so hard it hurt. But I’d been fighting the Eld for years. I’d once thought they were unique to Abelaum, but no, the Eld were everywhere.

They were drawn to me like flies to honey, but they didn’t scare me anymore. There were worse monsters out there, far worse. Monsters like —

“You can hold your own. How cute.”

I whirled around, gun at the ready. I didn’t know what to expect, but I certainly hadn’t been expecting him. That hot murderer from the bar. His clothes were even more blood-stained than before, and there was a dirty smirk on his face as he stepped out of the shadows — the “I’ll eat you alive and laugh while I do” type of dirty.

I frowned. “Of course I can. I had myself handled back at the bar too, if you hadn’t interrupted.”

He held up his hands innocently. Even his palms were tattooed, with elaborate pentagrams and strange runes. “I didn’t doubt you. I just wanted a little trouble for myself.”

I snorted, but I didn’t put the gun away. I knew better than that. “Well, you got it, didn’t you? You seem awfully calm for a man who just murdered someone. You do that often?”

He shrugged. “Not often enough to lose that fun, tingling feeling inside. You don’t look like you’re any stranger to killing either.”

I looked down at the mess of fragmented bone, mud, and worms that remained of the Eldbeast. The Eld weren’t common knowledge. The only people who knew they were real were those unfortunate enough to have encountered them. And if you encountered them, you rarely lived to talk about it.

I glanced back at him skeptically. “Are you familiar with these things?”

“I’ve seen them around,” he said. “You know, if you take one of those skulls in to be examined, they’ll tell you it’s just a regular old crocodile?”

I nodded. In desperation, I’d collected the skull of an Eld I’d once killed, and taken it to a local veterinarian to be examined. If I could prove the monsters existed, then maybe people would start believing me about everything else too. But I had no such luck. The vet told me it was nothing more than a highly decomposed wolf skull.

“You look like you could use a smoke.” He held out a slim, hand-rolled joint, but he was smart not to take a step toward me. I really needed the high. My alcohol buzz had worn off, and my mind was racing. This guy was a weirdo, and I didn’t understand how the hell he’d ended up out here in the woods. But he’d technically saved me back there at the bar, even if I’d never admit it. I didn’t see any weapons on him, at least not at a glance, and just one shot from my SPAS would rip him apart. I guess there was no harm in sharing a smoke with him.

I nodded. “Let’s get away from here at least. My Jeep is just back there.”

“The bayou is up ahead,” he said. “Short walk. It’s a nice view with the moonlight and all.”

I glared at him, adjusting my weapon. “Trying to get me out in the dark alone, pretty boy?”

He held up his hands innocently. “Hey, you’re the one with the gun. Pretty sure you’ve got the advantage.”

I pursed my lips in thought. “Lead the way then. But don’t try shit. I’ll blast your head off too.”

“I’ll be chaste as a saint,” he said, pressing his hands together in a mock prayer as I followed him. I rolled my eyes. Typical. A hot liar. What a shock.

It took only a few minutes to reach the water. The trees opened up and the marshy river stretched out before us, shimmering with silver moonlight. He sat down near the roots of a cypress and leaned back against the trunk, pulled out a lighter, and lit up.

“What’s your name?” he said, as the herbaceous odor of marijuana wafted around us.

“What’s yours?” I didn’t like giving out personal information, even so far from home. No matter how far I went, my past would follow me. I dreaded speaking my name only to see recognition in someone’s eyes.

Juniper, the girl who went missing? I thought you were locked up. I thought you were crazy. Seen any monsters lately? Didn’t you try to kill —

“Zane,” he said, passing over the joint. I took a long, slow drag, savoring the taste. It had been too long since I’d had good weed. “And you don’t need to tell me, if you don’t want to. I get the need for anonymity.”

“Are you local?” I said, coughing a bit as I passed it back. He shook his head.

“Nope.” He let the smoke cascade from his lips, around his face. It was probably just the weed talking, but damn, he looked good. Those honey-brown eyes, so oddly familiar, seemed to glow with golden flecks. He passed the joint back, and gazed out across the water. He had a strong jaw, and there were more tattoos beneath his buzzed hair.

“Where are you from then?”

“Here and there. Everywhere. Hell, originally.”

I shook my head, but I couldn’t hold back a smile at the smartass bastard. “Oh, yeah? Why’d you leave? Couldn’t take the heat?”

He shrugged. “All the monsters are here on Earth. Figured I’d join them. What about you? Where are you from?”

I hesitated. “Washington.”

“Beautiful place. I have a friend there. He’s a lot like you actually.”

The weed was making my head pleasantly hazy, the usual ache melting away from my muscles. It was the closest I’d felt to relaxed in a long time. “Like me? How’s that?”

“He’s been through shit,” he said. “It made him bitter. Angry. A little murderous.” He shrugged. “But damn, all that anger makes him a good fuck.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “There’s really nothing like a hate-fuck, is there?”

“No, there really isn’t.”

We sat for a while, sharing the silence and what remained of the joint. Between the moonlight on the water, the crickets chirping in the brush, and the high, I was feeling really damn good. So good that I began to let my eyes wander over that fine-as-hell body seated next to me. He’d kept his word; he wasn’t getting handsy. But when I looked, I could see the bulge in his jeans. And goddamn was it a bulge.

“You’re really not going to make a move, are you?” I said.

He glanced over at me. In the strange light, between the silver moon and the red cherry on the joint, I could have sworn his eyes were molten gold, like the sun right before it sets.

“Why?” That filthy grin was back on his face. “Are you just waiting for me to take advantage of you?”

I rolled my eyes and ran my tongue over my lips. “Why don’t you replace out?”

He shifted. I was seated on the ground, cross-legged, and he moved so that he was crouched next to me. He was tall enough that he could still look down at me like that. “Dangerous words, from a woman with a gun.”

I smirked, picked up the weapon, and aimed it at his head. “Scared?”

Oh, that grin was wicked.

He grabbed my ankle and yanked me. I found myself flat on my back beneath him, as his one hand pinned my arm with the gun and the other gripped my throat, with just enough pressure to keep me in place. He leaned close, his lips inches from mine. His scent was intoxicating, like weed and whiskey, like brown sugar and smoke.

Below the silver barbell through his eyebrow, I noticed a tiny tattoo of St. Peter’s cross. His gaze burned over me until it settled, smoldering, on my eyes. “Are you really prepared to face the consequences of what you just said?”

“Please don’t hurt me, mister,” I said, a smile on my lips despite the squeeze of his hand. “I’m just an innocent girl.”

He chuckled, deep in his chest. “Oh, you’re anything but innocent. And hurting you is exactly what I’m going to do.”

It’s strange to be haunted by dreams of pain and death, only to wake up and desperately seek the same things. Call it a kink, a fetish, whatever — I couldn’t escape the desire to take the very things that had hurt me and make them mine, control them, use them. Maybe someday it would make them less frightening. Maybe one day it would make the nightmares stop.

Monsters were real and Gods were evil, so the world was already going to Hell, regardless of my weird sexual turn-ons.

His mouth pressed to mine and my lips parted for him, drinking in his taste like it was the first shot of whiskey on a cold night. He squeezed my throat as he kissed me, his nails digging into my skin, far sharper than I’d expected. His tongue moved against mine, and I could feel the smooth, rounded metal of a tongue piercing — not one but two — and gave a soft moan as he bit my lip. Breathless, our mouths parted, but only so he could whisper, “Aww, did you really think I’d be that gentle?”

He reached down, his hand still tight around my throat as he tugged at my jeans, popping the buttons open. He rubbed his palm roughly over my panties, squeezing his hand tighter around my neck as he growled, “I feel that wet spot down there, girl. What a sick little slut. You really wanted to get taken advantage of in the middle of the woods by a stranger? Such a badass little bitch until you’ve got dick on your mind.”

If he’d said that to me back at the bar, I would have slapped him. But being degraded as he slipped his hand into my panties, his fingers encountering the wetness soaking through the cloth, was just one more bizarre thing I could add to my list of fucked-up turn-ons. He rubbed his fingers over my clit, my legs twitching as the stimulation jerked at my nerves.

When he pressed two fingers inside me, slick with my arousal, I gasped sharply and choked back the whimper that tried to escape. He pressed his forehead to mine, so I couldn’t avoid his eyes or the sight of that wicked smile, pumping his fingers into me as he said, “Don’t close your eyes now, girl. Are you trying to hold back those cute little sounds from me? Hm?”

I didn’t understand how the hell he knew I was holding back, but when his fingers curled inside me, any attempts at silencing myself were useless. He pressed against that deep spot that instantly tightened my abdomen, my legs squeezing together at the stimulation. He slid his knees out, using his legs to spread mine and keep them spread out. He hadn’t even gotten my jeans off my ankles and he already had me soaking my panties, about to orgasm on his fingers.

The sounds he was forcing out of me were pathetic, and they were increasing in volume. The louder I was, the more he began to laugh, and the more I began to think that his teeth looked a hell of a lot sharper than they had before. But it was dark, every nerve in me was throbbing, and because I’d tried so hard to hold back, my orgasm only hit me harder when it came.

For a moment, I forgot how to breathe. He didn’t stop pumping his fingers into me, he didn’t stop massaging his palm against my swollen clit or curling his fingers up to hit that spot. I couldn’t stop myself; I gushed over his hand. God, the way he laughed at me, taunting me for breaking apart as if I had a choice, was too goddamn hot. He withdrew his fingers to suck the digits clean in his mouth.

“Fuck, you taste good,” he murmured. He pressed his fingers past my lips, over my tongue, so I could taste myself on his skin. I moaned as he pushed his fingers deep into my mouth, far enough that my eyes began to water and I tried not to choke at the depth.

“Too much for you yet?” I gagged and he pulled his fingers back to slap them against my cheek — a sting that instantly made me smile. “Tell me to stop if it is.”

If I’d wanted him to stop, I would have bashed him across the head with the gun, but stopping was the last thing on my mind.

I was about to mouth off, about to challenge him, but it was as if he sensed it coming. He flipped me over to my stomach, straddled me, and ground his hips down against my bare ass as he scratched his nails down my back. God, even through his jeans, I could tell he was thick, and I could have sworn the man had claws from the scratches he left behind.

“I’m going to fucking wreck that little pussy.” He brought his voice close to my ear, and gripped my ass tight. I tried to look back at him, but he forced my head down against the dirt.

“I’ve heard that one before,” I said breathlessly. “I’ll see if you can actually follow through.”

As if he hadn’t just made me soak my panties squirting. As if I wasn’t still dizzy from the orgasm.

“Oh, is that how it is?” He chuckled, low and dark. “If I don’t follow through, feel free to shoot me in the fucking head, because frankly, I deserve it if you get up with that bitchy mouth of yours still capable of speech.”

I heard the movement of his belt, the sound of his zipper sliding down. With one hand keeping the nape of my neck pinned, he used the other to tug my hips up, forcing my lower back to arch before he pressed that thick cock inside me.

I cried out, and bit down on my wrist curled beneath my head at the stretch of him entering me. Fuck, his size wasn’t normal. Even slick as I was, so turned on I could hardly think straight, he was almost too big to fit. Every inch stretched me; every inch ached.

“Ah…fuck…” My voice broke on the words, and he reached around to grip my face as he pressed fully inside me.

“Going to beg for mercy?” he growled, squeezing my cheeks.

I would have snapped at his hand if his grip wasn’t so tight. But all I managed to grind out instead was, “No.”

All preamble was gone now. He pounded into me and I squeezed around him, throbbing on that knife’s edge between pain and pleasure. The hand he’d used to grip my face now forced my mouth open, and two fingers pressed on my tongue. His opposite hand slipped beneath me, teasing my clit as his cock punished me, another orgasm swelling uncontrollably. My cries heightened in pitch; every effort I made to stay quiet only made it worse — better — I didn’t know anymore.

He bit down on my shoulder, hard enough to break the skin. The sharp, stinging pain made me moan, and I shuddered as his tongue moved hungrily over the bite. My legs were shaking, my deep gasping breaths weren’t enough. His cock throbbed inside me, an animalistic growl rising in him with every thrust. The thought of him coming inside me, filling me, turned me on too much. Pulling out be damned, I wanted this freak’s cum dripping out of me for the rest of the night.

His brutal cock and his fingers on my clit had me writhing in the dirt. He was close, because he released my face to pull up my hips with both hands, fucking into me with urgency. With my head no longer restrained, I looked back at him right as I came, right as his cock throbbed inside me.

I wanted to see his face. I wanted to see the pleasure on it. I wanted to see how he looked as he fucked me.

What I saw instead was that his honey brown eyes were molten gold. There were rows of sharp teeth between his pierced, parted lips. There were thick black veins in his hands and neck. The angles of his face were sharpened, his muscles swollen. Sharp dark claws dug into my hips, rivulets of blood dripping down from where they were sunk into me.

“Fuck —”

I saw what he was and I still orgasmed on his cock. I still shuddered uncontrollably as he spilled inside me, gripping me tighter as he reached his own peak. But the moment his hold loosened, I kicked myself out from under him and scrambled back, trying to catch my breath as I snatched up the shotgun and aimed.

I remembered him. I knew where I’d seen him before.

He knelt there on the ground, his head tipped back, a smile full of sharp, wicked teeth on his face. His cock…fuck, no wonder it had felt so unnatural. Everything about him was unnatural, but his dick was thick and ridged, swollen on the sides and beneath, the head slightly slanted and cherry red. I shook my head, cocking the gun as he opened his eyes and fixed me with that gaze.

“Remember me now, little wolf?”

Cold dread rose in me. The night I’d fled Abelaum remained in my memory in only bits and pieces. I’d gone into a diner. I’d pointed the gun I’d stolen from Mom’s trailer at the poor waiter, because I was so hungry and had no money, and I didn’t know what the hell to do. I’d been followed that night, the Eld stalking through the woods alongside me. I hadn’t known what they were at the time.

He’d told me. This man, this…monster. He’d told me what they were.

“Aww, what? Do I scare you?” He opened his mouth, and extended his tongue. I was right about the piercings, but it was more than that: his tongue was forked, and each side was pierced. “I really hate that disguise. It’s such a fucking bother. But if I didn’t use it, all you humans would be running away from me, screaming.” He paused. “Oh, wait…I like it when you run and scream.”

I couldn’t pull up my jeans and aim at the same time, so I sat butt-naked on the ground and didn’t lower my gun. “Tell me what you are, now, or I’ll blast your head off.”

“You can’t kill me with that thing. You should know that from last time.”

Last time, I’d seen my bullet enter his body and it hadn’t even made him flinch. I’d watched him dig it out like he couldn’t feel pain. But I didn’t lower my weapon. “I can damn well try. This gun is a hell of a lot bigger than the last one.”

He stared me down, that shit-eating grin on his face. “It’s been a few years since you last saw me. Surely, you’ve done your research. I think you know what I am.”

I swallowed hard. I tried not to think about it. I tried not to remember. But he wasn’t the first of his kind I’d encountered. Those golden eyes, the sharp teeth, the claws…

The night the Libiri had tried to kill me, the night I’d crawled out of the darkness of the mine and fled through the forest, a being like him had pursued me through the dark. Relentless, merciless, I knew Kent Hadleigh had sent it after me to take me back.

It would have dragged me back to the mine if it had caught me. It would have thrown me back into the dark.

Of course I’d done my research. I had combed through old websites, locked forums, dusty long-forgotten books in the back of libraries. I’d hoarded those rare gems of knowledge from amongst the rubble of conspiracy and hearsay, trying to make sense of this fucked-up world I lived in.

“Demon,” I said, spitting out the word. “You’re not the first one I’ve met. Is that the friend in Washington you mentioned, hm? Do you serve Kent Hadleigh too?”

“I told you last time: I work for me, myself, and I,” he said. He rose to his feet, and I scrambled up too, trying to tug up my jeans and aim simultaneously.

“Juniper Kynes,” he drawled. “The girl who got away. The sacrifice who…wasn’t. A soul who escaped from a God.” He chuckled. He was walking toward me, and his face was changing as he did. The molten gold in his eyes cooled to honey-brown. The thick black veins in his throat disappeared, his teeth shortened and lost their sharpness. His claws disappeared. I was backing away, trying not to trip over gnarled roots and fallen branches.

But he took it one step further; even his tattoos were disappearing. His eyes were widening. He was just some boy-next-door, pretty and innocent, wide-eyed and sweet. But his smile was filthy, no matter what he did. “I’ve kept my eye on you, since that night. Does this face look familiar? Maybe you’ve seen it in a crowd, in a club, on the side of the road. But you probably didn’t even notice, did you?”

He’d been stalking me. All this time, these last three years, he’d been following me. It was horrifying that a monster like that could blend in so perfectly, but of course he could. Predators had to camouflage themselves to get close to their prey.

Demons disguised themselves to make people feel safe, they made themselves attractive to draw us in — only so they could manipulate us, their prey, into giving up everything. Body and soul.

“I didn’t think much of you when I first saw you, Juniper. Frankly, I didn’t think you’d survive this long. But I told you we’d meet again. You really are a fascinating little mortal specimen. You should have died so many times, and yet…you just…keep…going. Impressive. Very impressive.”

I stumbled, but my back struck the trunk of a tree and I pressed myself there. There was nowhere else to go.

I couldn’t run. He’d catch me.

I couldn’t hide. He’d smell me.

I could shoot, but that wouldn’t kill him.

He sauntered up and leaned one hand against the tree over my head. The muzzle of my gun was pressed against his chest, and he didn’t give a fuck.

“What the hell do you want?” I said. I should have shot him right then and there, but something kept me from doing it, something I didn’t fully understand and definitely couldn’t explain.

“You.”

That simple word felt like a block of ice had been dropped on my stomach. He leaned down, and again, I could have pulled the trigger. I should have. Perhaps some bizarre curiosity kept me from doing it, but it wasn’t fear.

The thing was, if he’d wanted to kill me, he would have done it by now.

He leaned down and whispered in my ear, “I’ve made my intentions clear. Now it’s your turn. When you’re sick of running, come replace me. Until then, stay alive, little wolf. I want to play with you again.”

I drove through the night in silence, the radio off, the windows up. My rage was growing, slowly, the pressure building until it burst. My pussy ached, my clit throbbed with lingering ecstasy. I slammed my fist against the steering wheel. “God fucking damnit!”

I’d done a lot of risky shit in the last few years, but tonight took the cake. I’d grown so numb to danger and risks, sometimes the fairly obvious ones went right over my head: like fucking a stranger in the middle of the woods at night. Most people would balk; I’d begged for it.

I hadn’t even brought up a goddamn condom, even though I always had a few stored in my glovebox, just in case. I spent too many long nights in bars and clubs to not come prepared, not that it had done me any good tonight. When I reached the next town, I stopped at the first 24-hour pharmacy I could replace and picked up a pack of morning-after pills. The last thing I needed was to get knocked up with some demonic baby, if that was even possible.

He’d been following me. He’d followed me all this way from Abelaum. How many places had I encountered him, without even knowing? How many times had our eyes met? How many times had he gotten close and I’d been none the wiser?

It should have been terrifying, and yet, he didn’t scare me. Not in the way I expected.

It was only in daylight, as I reached the next city and finally slowed the Jeep’s speed, that I noticed a small white scrap of paper tucked against my dashboard. I pulled into the next gas station, and as it was pumping, I plucked up the paper and found words scrawled messily across it. For business or pleasure. When you’re ready to make a deal, call me.

A phone number was scribbled beneath it.

A deal with a demon. A deal for anything I wanted, in exchange for all that I had left. I should have thrown that scrap of paper away. I should have forgotten all about him and kept running. Running, like I always had.

But I kept the paper. I tucked it away in my wallet, and when the nights were darkest and I was drunk and alone, I thought about it. I thought about what would be worth a deal with a demon.

I thought about his taste, his smell, his tongue, far more than I should have.

I thought about revenge, and I thought about home — the place I swore I’d never go back to.

But I would go back. A lot sooner than I thought.