19. Armageddon in a Lilac Blouse

Once the howling tempest of shadow and lightning dissipated, Liora stood tall in the crater it left behind. His eyes devoured every inch of her. She was a beautiful denial-of-service attack.

Dressed in a lilac blouse and a dark skirt, hair a wild copper cascade flowing down her back. Her familiar frenetic energy crackled down the bond. She looked as if he had interrupted her on a coffee run.

Her shadows thrashed and wove around her in an opaque shield. Her back was to him as her head swivelled, scanning the hunters scrambling to their feet. One had pulled a gun from his pocket.

His hand hung limply at his side, finger jumping and struggling to wrap around the trigger. She scoffed, and her head whipped round to face Ashton at last.

Those black eyes roiled and narrowed as he winked at her. He winced as the slight movement nudged the knife sticking out of him.

Her gaze dropped to it, then to the hunters he’d killed, lying crumpled and broken around him.

You almost missed the show, Red.

A pulse of fervent fury dripped down the bond as she bared her teeth at him. He almost heard the insults she screamed in her mind. She faced the hunters instead of voicing any as they chose wrong. They clustered together and braced to fight her.

Ashton held his breath as she spoke.

“I’ll only warn you once.” Her voice rent the night. It sounded like the clash of tectonic plates. “His death is mine.”

Mine, mine, mine.

His mind snatched that word and wouldn’t let it go.

It wasn’t a claim, at least not yet. It was close enough for Ash. His grin solidified. His aching spine straightened out. The air between them vibrated with the unspoken promise of pain.

Glorious.

He couldn’t wait for it. The demon felt the bond now. He was certain. The terrified young hunter stuttered and stumbled over himself, gun hand still quaking.

“He... he’s ours—”

Wrong, little hunter.

Liora’s head shook as if agreeing with his mental statement. Her scent strengthened. Shadows stilling. But she moved.

Her claws sparkled with electric energy as she lifted a hand. Pointing to the man now aiming his gun at her chest.

Lightning—dazzling, destructive, and alive—arced from her fingertips. Its ozone fragrance saturated the docks. The hunter shrieked and froze in place as it struck his weapon.

The gun fused to his hand; electricity spidered up his arm. Her shadow snake curled around his wrist.

She forced him to turn it on himself. It happened in slow motion.

The man’s eyes widened, his heartbeat rattling like a wind chime in a tornado. His head shaking. Gun trembling as it pushed against his forehead. He sobbed, wordless and useless, delicious.

Bang.

His masked face exploded in a shower of scarlet viscera, tacky fabric shreds, and white bone fragments. His body crumbled to the floor with a wet, fleshy smack as the remaining seven gaped under their masks.

Shit. That’s hot as hell. Do it again!

The hushed quiet deafened; the atmosphere held its breath in solidarity with Ash. He’d bet his fangs the fish swimming in the water were just as captivated as he was as she spoke again.

“You sought to tip the Scales. Now you will weigh them.” Her voice resonated with a power he’d never heard.

It made his every instinct sit up straight and listen. And despite the knife sticking out of his chest, the lack of blood available, his cock stirred as her words settled in him.

The hunters cowered. He stared, eyes darting between Liora and them. Brow furrowed low, he filed her claim away to ponder over later.

She wasn’t just a succubus. He’d known it the moment they’d met. Now he knew for sure. He almost wanted to laugh.

Time had appeared to stall, but it came slamming back at full speed as her shadows lashed. The hunters found their footing. Liora didn’t pause as they turned to run.

She moved through the hunters like a virus deleting files. She was Armageddon in a lilac blouse. Or Death on a Saturday stroll. He should write a book. All these pretty metaphors needed somewhere to go. Thirteen of her slow heartbeats.

That’s how long it took Liora to paint the lot red.

She was a whirlwind of shadows and sinew. Talons flashing like star-strewn obsidian. He wished he’d brought his phone to film it. Next time.

She’s stunning when she’s murdering people for me, his brain sighed. She used none of her usual finesse.

Just brutal, efficient termination. Shadow ropes snapped a neck. The next one never saw her coming. Her claws sliced into his throat. Creating a geyser of scarlet that sprinkled her face with a grotesque mimicry of freckles.

She’d always hated those marks, as though desperate to hide her mortality. Here, they glistened like rubies. The only crown suitable for his bloody tyrant.

The next three tried to form a defense as she tilted her head. He wondered if she was savoring the rampant thudding of their mortal hearts, or smelling their fear.

He was. Liora moved faster than they could think to regret their choices. Heat and want coursed through his veins, helping him ignore his body’s demands to feed as more blood spilled like communion wine.

It would be worse if I could drink it, silver linings.

Ash catalogued it all. The flex of her shoulders, the savage snarl twisting her lips. And the way her pulse pounded now. In tandem with his own ragged breaths.

Her dark tendrils hooked around their ankles, tripping them. They slammed face first into the icy concrete. Curses and screams rang out as she dragged them toward the mass of inky cobras waiting to swallow them whole.

She carved a symphony from them.

She yanked them down into the void. The squelch and crunch of bone, their broken pleas and prayers snuffed out before they could echo. Heat crawled up his neck, muscles loosening, knife grinding his bones to dust.

Magnificent.

The remaining two shivered like rats caught in the rain. Knives held loosely in their hands. Their pathetic, futile resistance had failed before it began. They deserved all the Hell she gave them.

Even if she didn’t know what they’d done, it was a priceless gift to watch them break. One lunged, and Ash almost yelled to warn her.

She didn’t need it. Her hand shot out, wrapping clean around the blade arcing for her stomach. She squeezed it tight.

Her potent blood bloomed bright, dripping black and shimmering between her clenched knuckles. She twisted her wrist until the hunter’s arm trembled and turned too far the wrong way.

The bones creaked, harmonized by his snivelling. Her blood called to him. Mouth filling with venom as he ignored the impulse to crawl to it.

His tongue ran along the sharp edges of his fangs as they dropped. A terrible ‘crack’ resounded as she broke the hunter’s arm. His dagger clattered to the ground.

His pained hollering died fast. Her cut palm gripped his tactical vest, and her free hand plunged into his chest. Claws buried deep as the man went rigid and quaked. Eyes locked on the sky as she ripped his beating heart clean out of his body.

She gripped it in her fist, scowling down at it before she tossed it over her shoulder. Ash laughed as it rolled to a stop at his knees.

Aww, a valentine? You shouldn’t have!

The organ still pulsed, glittering under the full moon’s pale glow. A pale ribbon of steam curled off it. Its rotten coppery tang made his nose scrunch. He groaned as the laugh died, stiffening as agony burrowed deeper with the sound.

He was still cold. Still aching. Her return had melted the freeze, but the emptiness was eating him alive.

He thought she’d dispatch the last one and come beat him up next. She didn’t.

Her shadows wreathed around the final one. Drawing them nearer in. Holding them there as Liora turned Ash’s world upside down.

Again.

She leaned in as if to kiss them. Ash went rigid, eyes honing as the bond pulsated with green flame. Roasting him.

No, don’t you dare.

A growl clawed up his ruined throat, lodging there and thrashing. The air shifted, or maybe it vibrated, as she grabbed the hunter’s neck and he at last got to see how her manipulative thrall worked. Ash memorized every second to archive it all later.

Her voice had that dual tone quality, silk and black widow rasp. Even the waves fell quiet. Tension thrummed.

Her scent sweetened a bit. The mortal’s eyes turned glossy. Hers glowed amber and violet. Fractal shadows danced under their influence.

The hunter’s body arched closer to Liora, Ash scented the rotten arousal rising in them. He battled the instinct to demand the bastard step away from her. Irrational, yes, but he was running on fumes and instinct.

His mind said what his mouth wouldn’t.

Don’t look at her like that. Leave some goddamn room for the Holy Spirit!

Liora crooned, “Tell your masters the Shroud-Keeper is done watching. The vampire’s death is mine to design.” There was that word again. Mine. He hated how much he loved it. “Harm him again and I will unmake your world to save mine. Spread the fucking word.”

Then she stepped back and watched the hunter stumble and trip over themselves to leave. In seconds, the pier was silent but for the lapping of black water against its frozen pillars.

Ash was breathless, riveted on the monster he’d bound himself to. Survival, control, and power were the last things on his mind. He snapped mental images and memorised everything she’d said.

Shroud-Keeper?

What the fuck did that mean? What had the cryptomancer told her? He had so many questions. He wasn’t entirely prepared when she spun to him.

He blinked, and she stood before him, her scent—pomegranates, bergamot, blood, and fury—infused his null void. She grabbed his face. Her sharp touch was an arctic kiss as her claws pricked his jaw. Her fingers frozen to the bone, too.

Oh, she was as drained as he was. He sensed it now. He saw the fraying edges of her shadows. Noticed how her left eyelid twitched and her nostrils flared.

Perfect.

He couldn’t resist making a joke. He was his own worst enemy. “Fucking hell, demon,” he breathed, hands clapping weakly, grimacing as it annoyed the blade still spearing him. “And they say romance is dead.”

Her eyes were endless black, the VII brand burning through her glamour and blouse. He forgot about the hunter who had escaped with the vial of his blood as electricity sparkled between them. The time and distance apart hadn’t been kind to her either.

She appeared a little thinner than she had been before she’d vanished. Sooty thumbprints marred her under eyes, and her cheekbones were more pronounced than normal.

Her breathing was even as she glared at him. Her pulse skittered too fast, giving her away.

“You stupid, reckless leech,” she spat, her voice a power surge that shook the docks. Her shadows coiled close, some curled around him. Warm and gentle now. “What in the seven hells did you think you were doing?”

She didn’t wait for an answer. Her hands went to the knife hilt. She gave it a vicious yank, pulling the iron from his chest.

He grunted and lurched forward; the world buffering. Before the wound could weep more than a drop of black blood, she rebooted his entire system.

She hesitated for a split second, then slit her uninjured palm with the bloody knife and slammed her hand over the wound in his chest. His roar shattered his pretense of cocky indifference.

Fire and ice collided. Agony and ecstasy, all branded with her signature. His spine arched, teeth gritting as his vision whited out.

Jesus Christ. We really need to work on her bedside manner.

When he could see again, he shuddered as her venomed-blood seeped through him. “Give me... a little warning next time,” he said, pausing and letting his voice drop even lower. “But the caveman method is on brand for you, I suppose.”

She met his eye. Something he didn’t recognize, something that she was trying to hide, flickered in her gaze. “Just be grateful I’m bothering to fix your mess.”

He chuckled, leaning into the pain of his collapsing arteries rebuilding. Her blood was a forced firmware update, sealing the wound, burning out the last of the cold, rewriting him from the inside out.

Again, the shocking, overwhelming rightness eclipsed the hurt.

Does she feel it too?

He hoped so.

She’d hate it.

Karma for running away and letting him starve. His attention snagged on her outfit. Ridiculous that she fought and won a full skirmish in that get-up.

He managed a weak, bloody smirk. “So let me get this straight, you wear leather armour and braids to train me,” he said, the words like gravel crunching under heel. “But you face a reality warping demon dressed... like that? Is there a uniform I’m not aware of? Is apocalyptic chic not in this season?”

“Unlike you, Barbatos doesn’t make a hobby of bleeding out on my Sunday best.” There was a delicious pause as she steeled herself.

Liora glared at him with the heat of a midnight sun. “Why, Ashton?”

A thrill ran through him at the sound of his name on her tongue. It was only the second time she’d used it properly.

He shoved it down. He had hell to pay before he could obsess over it.

He gave a wet, sanguine cough that was mostly for show. “Thinking? I was freezing.

Starving. It’s no fun being shackled to a demon when she forgets you.”

Liora couldn’t believe her ears. How long had he known of their predicament? Pressure built in her temples as he’d talked, a soreness she had to endure for eternity, apparently. She didn’t care what he knew.

It was too late to care. She clung to the heat licking through her veins. Her eye twitched, claws itching to gut the stupid leech and string him up on the tallest building by his intestines.

She continued to press her hand to his chest, using her blood to seal his wound, an act that seemed less like healing and more like a catastrophic failure on her part.

Something glacial crept into her pounding heart. Something she’d never get out of her without destroying the very thing she’d vowed to protect.

The vows she’d made to herself still scalded her collarbone. The chill kept streaming in. It was his cold, his weakness, his stupid, careless mortality trickling into her.

He was far too calm for someone who got ambushed. She had not known what she was walking into. All she’d known was the closer she got to him, the better she’d felt.

Her demon whispered, smug.

I kept telling you. Crawl back. Ask him to ruin you again. Maybe his tongue can be put to better use!

She had despised every moment of the bond strengthening on her way here. She wanted to carve it out. The way her power grew stronger and the ice within her melted... but she hated that she had been glad of it most of all.

It had drained now. Hunger and using magic without taking the time to draw it out properly left her as cold as him. Ashton was unrepentant. Victorious, almost.

Why would he— the realization was a bucket of tar tossed over her head.

Her stomach wrenched to the side so sharply she thought something had torn. The coldness settled deep as heat washed up her neck, gold veins like cracks in porcelain as they splintered her jaw and wrists.

He’d done this on purpose. Rat bastard.

Her eyes snapped up to his, to the bloody, smug smirk on his face, and the last vestige of her control shattered. Her shadows writhed like stepped-on serpents, braiding around the vampire’s throat.

She shuddered. Grave dirt overpowered her scent as she clenched her teeth. The wall she’d kept between their minds crumbled, and a single, furious thought screamed through the newly opened channel, a thought meant only for herself:

You arrogant worm, you staged this—you let them stab you just to— And in the psychic nanosecond that followed, as that thought hit Ash’s consciousness, he seized the open connection and flooded it back with his own reply.

It slammed into her mind laced with pain, cold, and triumph.

Worked like a charm. It got you back, didn’t it?

She froze as his inner voice bounced off her skull. No, no, no. Her claws trembled, jaw rippling, as she swallowed a wail. Her inner succubitch cackled.

Ashton observed her, a flare of heat flashing inside him. She hauled the wall back up before he could use the connection again.

It would fall again. He was sure of it. She didn’t deny it, though.

She hadn’t run off as usual. She glanced away to view the carnage she’d caused. Head shaking as she turned back to him, and ordered, “Get up. We’re leaving.”

He chuckled, limbs still leaden, and his bones seemed as if they’d all fractured. It was incredible how fast her mood changed. “I’m not exactly in good health, Sweetheart. If you want a fight, you’ll have to feed me first.”

Her shadows tightened on his throat, squeezing hard enough he gasped. It transformed into a groan that wasn’t from pain as her heat prickled his gelid skin. She leaned in, close enough he tasted the lie she’d told herself all the way here.

I don’t need him. I don’t need him. I don’t need him.

She sighed through her nose. Her shadows wound around him. They were almost tender as they hauled him to his feet.

He swayed, vision doubling and filling with static bursts as her darkness held him. Her claws cut into his bicep as she grabbed it.

“Hold on. Don’t fall. I won’t catch you.”

Liar, he didn’t have time to wonder what was happening. Usually, she’d dissolve into her magic and leave him to walk home. Restlessness rolled off her as she closed her eyes and summoned her power.

Ashton’s world turned black as his body dematerialised and became one with the shadows. His internal organs seemed to remain on the docks, and then the dark cleared. He found himself back in the hotel suite.

He nearly flopped to the floor, mind wheeling as his innards caught up with the rest of him. She dropped his arm, but her shadows still carried him.

She said, “Pack your things. We’re moving. Try no more clever plans. I refuse to rescue you twice in one night.”

She walked away. Heels clacking off the hardwood, hips swaying, a legion of shadow fluttering behind her. Her magic eased his jerky steps as he followed her down the hall. He couldn’t stop the joke from slipping out.

“Killjoy. It would be like our first date all over again, Red.”

She stopped, turning to stab him with her stare as she snarled, “We aren’t dating!”

The sound vibrated down his spine and pooled low in his belly as he laughed, rough. Her shadows helped him invade her personal space, static fizzing between them as he pressed a frosted fingertip into her chest.

“Really? What do you call this then? I’m calling it fate."

He waited for a slap or an insult or at least a warning to shut up. She didn’t argue. Her gaze drifted from his as her claws retracted. Her scent grew thinner as she repeated her earlier orders.

“Get. Your. Things. We’re leaving. If you’re not ready in ten minutes, you can find your own way there.”

She stalked away, pulse hammering in her neck and making his mouth water. His needs wouldn’t let him ignore them much longer. But her reaction was odd.

He’d expected fire and spite. Venom and violence. Not whatever this was. His stomach dropped. Oh. The demon was rattled. By him? The massacre she’d just performed for him?

Or was it the bond she couldn’t refuse anymore?

She probably wouldn’t tell him. For now, he pushed it aside and did as she asked. He had little to pack. He’d bought only a few new outfits and some tech gear to better enable his online hunting skills since arriving here.

His brain at last shut up as all his remaining energy fuelled his pained movements. He soon finished packing, a terrifically painful process when one was dying of thirst, and waited in the hall for her.

The rage still hung from her tense shoulders, glamor flickering as her shadows swallowed both their things. He arched his eyebrow.

“Will I get that back?”

She sighed. Voice tight and quieter than he’d ever heard it as she said, “If you behave. Come on. Let’s go.”

He backed up as she reached for him, an arduous task when her magic dragged him closer. The smell of her blood singing through her veins... he had to stop breathing before he lost control and attacked her.

Her shadows were still bloodthirsty from the fight and looped around his wrists and ankles to keep him there. He grit his jaw, eyes hardening, a cramping sensation in his dead gut as he demanded answers.

“Why? Where are we going, Liora?”

The quiet strained as she wouldn’t look at him. It set his fangs on edge. It wasn’t her. Her hand wrapped his upper arm, darkness rearing to take them away. “Another safe house. This one’s compromised.”

She didn’t elaborate. He slumped, vision speckled with black spots at the corners. He fisted his hands, split knuckles reopening as his nails cut into his palms.

There was no use pushing against an immovable object. He let her take the reins and closed his eyes as they disappeared. He’d miss the hotel.

He hoped they’d return one day.

He might make a habit of staging his own demise just so she had to rescue him. This was more of an aphrodisiac than the combat training was. They travelled for a longer period this time.

It was warm in the ether. He felt her hand around his bicep but couldn’t see her when he chanced a look.

All that existed was endless black velvet studded with diamond-bright stars. The shadows had the texture of spider silk but were even less tangible. Silken smoke, really.

When it cleared, he noted the humidity and temperature change instantly. It was suffocating here. They stood inside a penthouse apartment in the heart of Manhattan.

The style of decoration implied she hadn’t lived there for a few decades. Everything appeared brand new but followed no modern trends. He barely saw it.

He slid into a leather armchair as her dark tendrils released him. He couldn’t hold his own weight anymore.

Which was unfortunate. His demon was ready for another fight.

She paced like a caged panther. Heart beating fast and he wished he had earplugs to avoid it. His mind filled with the noise. His fangs wouldn’t retract. They sliced his bottom lip as he tracked her.

The air shivered with the weight of words unsaid. Of everything neither would admit aloud.

At least, not yet. He should provoke her, find a sore spot to press on, just do something to make her act like herself again.

She should be screaming. Wailing. Clawing him to fucking ribbons. Not doing whatever this was.

“Do you want to talk about it or—”

She halted and stared out the floor to ceiling windows, back to him as she cut over him. “No. You talk enough for the both of us.”

He forced a chuckle, fingers tracing the seam of the leather under them. “Alright. Can you brood in another room then? It’s hard to rest in peace with all this tension.”

It was as if he’d tossed a grenade at her. She hissed, facing him at last, eyes like collapsing stars as her shadow fangs formed. Her darkness buzzed and surged as the temperature rose, a haze coming off it.

“If you wanted peace, leech, you should never have crawled into my bed.”

Silence rang again. Loud and full of caramelized danger. Ash offered her a bloodstained smile.

He’d take her Hell over heaven any day. Bring it on.