chapter five

I shivered uncontrollably, despite the afghan I clutched around my shoulders. The setting sun cast dramatic colors of warmth through my window, but I couldn’t shake the presence of Hell under my skin. I closed my eyes, trying to find the golden spark and coax it back to life. I didn’t know what it was, but I needed it, needed something to survive this place and the outrageous demands of my father.

I didn’t know what I was—but a murderer? Because that’s what Father expected—for me to help Miriam make that final leap from life to death. Scratch that. Not just any death, but an eternity of desperation and need.

Shouldn’t it feel right, if this was my destiny?

I doubted I would ever solve the mystery of myself, the impossibility of the warmth that hid inside, my need to resist the demon that pressed my limits and threatened to burst forth.

I didn’t know why I couldn’t just embrace it. Become, like Akaros had commanded so many times. All I knew was that whenever I considered it, I just . . . couldn’t. Something always held me back. If it didn’t sound crazy, I’d say it was the spark that restrained me. Like a whisper, it promised there was more. Just . . . more. Not this. Not Hell.

But where could I possibly belong if not there? Not Heaven, certainly. And the human world was so full of Sin; it was really like a carnival version of Hell. Except for Lucy. Lucy was in a league of her own. A simple sinner, with a pure heart.

I reached for the golden warmth in the center of my soul. But as always, it hovered just beyond my grasp.

A light tap at the door jerked me out of my introspection, but before I could tell whoever it was to go away—in no uncertain terms—James walked in.

“Hey! That door was locked.” I jumped to my feet, pulling the blanket even tighter around me. Adrenaline surged through my veins—I’d fight to keep my privacy, to keep my fortress sacred.

James held up a key and quirked an eyebrow.

There was no point in arguing with him. I’d known all along the lock on my door was only a pretense—it would never offer any real safety.

I sighed and sank back on the bed. “What do you want, James?” I pushed all my frustration into those words, hoping he’d take the hint and shove off. I should have realized there’s little James liked more than a challenge.

He sauntered over, and I fought hard to still the thrill of attraction that zipped through my veins. I didn’t want to want him, but I couldn’t help myself. And I hated it.

Hated the way I wanted to throw myself into his arms.

Hated the way I couldn’t seem to keep my eyes off his lips.

His chest.

And . . . other parts of his anatomy.

Hated the way he knew it.

The walk from the door to my bed seemed to take forever, like time had slowed and he was on some sort of catwalk of hotness. He had this whole Spike thing going on—I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d watched every episode of Buffy just for research purposes. Except, he didn’t come off as a poser—you’d think Spike was modeled after James, not the other way around. Platinum blond messy-spiked hair, slim jeans that he filled out in just the right way, black tee that he wore as if just begging me to rip it off.

The spark might not have given me the warmth I needed, but James offered a different kind of heat.

When he finally sat down beside me, his arm slipping easily around my waist, my breath whooshed out in an embarrassing rush. Apparently I’d been holding it in. Always classy.

He leaned into me, gently pressing his face behind my ear. My body responded with an almost-painful shiver of desire. James followed with his hands, pulling my face toward his while lowering me down to the bed. James could chase the cold away, chase everything away. James could make me warm.

A whole flock of hummingbirds flew around in my stomach. I felt like throwing up—or letting James do every little thing he wanted. And I’d like it.

A lot.

His lips landed on mine, lightly at first. A touch. A pause. His breath caressed my lips and then he bit my lower lip oh so gently, until I pressed into him, begging to feel him against every inch of me.

He groaned, a soft rumble of desire that left me quaking and reaching for him. He crushed his lips against mine and my world exploded with sensation.

The salty sweet taste of his mouth.

The musky bite of cologne, clean laundry, and guy.

The feel of his lips, yielding, soft. The way they demanded more and more from mine.

But then my fingers brushed against Aaron’s coat, and I remembered.

This wasn’t love.

This was conquest. Bragging rights.

This was Sin.

And I didn’t want to belong to Father. Didn’t want to give him what he wanted, to give him control over me.

With Herculean effort I pushed James away and sat up.

“No,” I said, wiping a hand across my mouth. “No.” I stood up and pulled Aaron’s jacket on. I could barely keep my balance, but I took a few stumbling steps away from the bed.

James lay back, propping himself up on his elbows. He didn’t look too put out by my rejection.

“Come on, princess.” He nodded toward the space beside him that I’d just vacated. He laughed, a low seductive sound that made me burn with want.

I walked across the room on wobbly legs and pulled open the door. I didn’t trust myself to speak, so I just gestured with my hand in the universal get-the-hell-out-of-here sign.

James took his time. He stood. Ran his hands through his hair. Walked toward me. When he reached me, he ran his thumb across my jaw and looked at me sideways, his face a study of calculated desire and frustration.

Except James was a professional charmer. I had no way of knowing if his frustration was real or affected. Was it me he wanted? Or was I just another would-be notch on his belt? My body told me he wanted me, needed me. But my heart knew it wasn’t true. Not really.

James was Father’s.

Which meant he’d never be mine.

“Daniel wants you downstairs,” James said, finally revealing the real reason he’d come to my room. He knew I’d have a hard time going down to the party as it was—let alone with his taste and smell all over me.

I balled my fists and glowered. He just chuckled and walked out. And didn’t even look back.