Wicked Deal (Shadow Guild: The Rebel 2)

The Devil’s gaze burned into me as I tried, but nothing came. The bastard was too far gone. I looked up, searching for the head. I’d touch it if I had to—anything to get my answers.

But it was nearly gone, too.

I removed my hands from the demon. “You’re going to tell me about your connection to this.” The Devil’s gaze shuttered, and I glared at him. “I’m not doing anything else until you tell me.”

The body between us was nearly gone, and we were surrounded by a tiny collection of items that had been in the demon’s pockets. A few colored stones that I now recognized as enchanted objects—charms, they were called—along with keys and a wallet, which seemed weird for a demon. But then, this whole world was weird.

“Carrow.” The Devil’s voice was heavy.

“You’re going to tell me.” I surged to my feet, and the Devil’s gaze followed my movements. His jaw tightened.

Crap. I was still mostly naked.

The memory of our kiss flashed in my mind, and I shoved it aside.

“Don’t look at me.” I stomped to the bathroom and found a robe, then pulled it on.

When I returned to the room, the Devil was standing near the fridge, a glass of amber-colored liquid in his hand. He hadn’t put on a shirt, and his front half was just as magnificent as the back. There were even more scars there, but somehow, they just emphasized his power and strength. I liked him more because of them, even as I was afraid of him.

He was impossibly handsome despite the shadows in his eyes. The slate gray had darkened, as if he were fighting off horrible memories, but I hardened myself against him.

“Well?” I demanded.

He sighed, then sat in one of the two chairs near the window. I joined him, perching on the chair across from him and nearly vibrating with anger.

“I didn’t trust you when I agreed to help you,” I said. “But this is worse than I expected.”

“That’s good.” His voice was flat. “I’m far worse than you could ever expect.”

“You’re Vlad the Impaler, the famous vampire, right? And you murdered all those people.” My gaze flicked back to the spot where the body had lay. “Why do you have the same markings as both of the bodies?”

“You know that I’m a turned vampire.”

I nodded.

“Most vampires in the world are born. They’re not much different than any other supernatural. They have magic, they’re mortal. They’re not monsters any more than witches or sorcerers or seers are. Some of them are evil, but it’s not the nature of their species.”

“But it is the nature of yours?”

“Some think so.”

“You think so.”

His entire dark history seemed to be reflected in his eyes. “It’s hard not to. I own my actions, and I regret them.”

“You killed those people?”

“Most of my worst deeds occurred in the past, shortly after I’d been turned.”

I waited silently.

He leaned back and stared out the window. “Vampires are rarely made because few are capable of it. Few are willing to do it because their progeny—like me—become insatiable monsters, out for death and blood. They rampage across the countryside, killing anyone they come across.”

I swallowed hard, horrified.

He continued. “Often, they don’t live long. They’re so out of control…so horrifically consumed by bloodlust…that they aren’t good at covering their tracks. Vampire hunters take them out if others don’t get to them first.”

“You survived.”