Devilish - A Demon Stepbrother Romance (4 page)

Chapter Six

              The bathroom slowly began to grow hazy with steam. The hot shower ran beside me while I stood in front of the sink, gripping the edge so tightly my knuckles were turning white.

              As the edges of the mirror began to fog, I could still see my body clear in the center. I had taken off my clothes except my bra and panties when it had all hit me. My breath came ragged and my vision swam. I nearly collapsed when I fell onto the sink, holding it tightly.

              Yesterday, I had finally gone into the living room. The house had been completely empty as I had walked down the stairs. I was dead, as far as anyone else knew. Without anyone to cook and clean for, all of the staff in the house had left. There was no Ethel waiting in the kitchen, a twinkle in her eyes and a ready “Miss Lazybones” on her lips.

              The house was silent.

              I knew if this was where I was going to be living until I achieved my revenge, I would eventually have to face the living room. I had thought about moving out into a hotel for a bit. I certainly had the money to reserve a whole floor if I wanted to.

              But there was something right in staying in the house. This is where they did me wrong. And so this is where I would stay and plot.

              But as I walked down the hallway, literally only a step or two away from the living room entry, I stopped. The blood rushed against my ears and I felt like I was drowning in the sea. Taking in a breath, not deep enough though since my lungs felt like they would collapse, I quickly stepped into the room.

              Immediately the dull smell of iron hit my nose. Someone had tried to clean up the blood. Stepping gently as if I’d wake up the ghosts of the room, I walked closer towards the couch and coffee table.

The oversized coffee table had been a medium dark brown. Now a large patch of darkness stained the middle of the table. Clearly my mom’s blood had soaked in too far for removal.

The leather recliner my father had died on was relatively clean. He hadn’t left much of a mess. Below by the feet of the chair were some brown drops of dried blood, probably from my father coughing it up.

And there on the opposite end was the wall I had been propped up against right before I had died.

How many people could say they experienced this—walking back to the site of your murder?

I didn’t step any closer. The entire area was still stained with blood—
my
blood—but it was clear someone had tried to clean it up. I imagined Ethel on her hands and knees scrubbing while crying over the loss of the girl she had practically raised.

It was hard but I had needed to see this. This is what would fuel me. I remembered fighting back against the men, trying to hit them with all that I could. But I had lost. And in my failure, my mom had been raped and murdered, my father shot.

I would not fail this time.

I would not let them die without being avenged.

But now, as I stood in front of the steaming bathroom mirror, my body shook uncontrollably.

I wasn’t scared…exactly. Or maybe I was. It was hard to think that I would be in the same room as someone who had successfully murdered me. Liam was right, I wanted revenge. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t scared.

I ran a finger lightly down between my full breasts, pulled up high by my bra. I had always been quite slender. That had probably only added to my downfall. How could I throw a devastating punch with these spaghetti arms? How could I save anyone?

And if I had failed before, how could I really succeed this time around?

Liam’s green eyes flashed in my mind.

He had
said
he would help me. But could I really trust the word of a demon? How did I know he wasn’t planning to just eat my soul in the next minute? What difference did it make for him if I got my revenge or not?

I knew I should be showering. The hot water was still steaming up the room. I knew I should be making myself up, dressing the part, so I could head out to the Senator’s dinner.

But this was just so
surreal
.

Although my body was whole, I still remembered every burning touch, every painful break from that fateful night. I could look in the mirror all I wanted at my flawless body but all I saw was the echoes of every bruise and break.

Knock knock!

I nearly jumped in surprise at the sound. But before I could say anything, the bathroom door opened. I gasped as Liam stepped in, dressed in dark black dress slacks and a loosely buttoned white shirt, his sleeves rolled up over his thickly veined forearms.

I fumbled around for a towel. “What the hell!” I cried out, feeling completely embarrassed and heated. I grabbed the towel clumsily and held it up against me instead of wrapping it around me, too desperate for cover to think clearly.

Liam raised a brow in amusement. “As much as I might look like him, I am
not
your stepbrother,” he said, his voice smoother and deeper than Liam’s had ever been in life.

I still clutched the towel to me. “I-I know that!” I stuttered, although my body clearly still had a hard time believing it. “Regardless of who the fuck you are, you can’t just barge into people’s showers!”

Liam flicked a lazy glance over at the empty shower, the showerhead still spraying out steaming hot water. “I would think a shower requires you to be
in
it,” he said sardonically.

“I was just about to before you came barging in!” I said, pulling the towel up closer to my chin. God, had Liam ever looked this good before? I knew it was crazy to even be thinking such things and I felt like a tramp just entertaining the thought but it was impossible not to.

The man moved like a panther—smooth, graceful, but with a definite note of restrained power. He wasn’t the goofy, sweet older stepbrother I had known growing up. This Liam was lethal, raw, and dangerous. He made the steamy room feel thousands of degrees hotter just with his presence.

Well, I guess he’s more at home in hotter climates, isn’t he?
I thought almost hysterically.

Liam closed the small gap between us. My en suite bathroom had always been quite large and spacious. But standing here with Liam, I suddenly felt like I was trapped in a tiny closet.

Leaning one hand against the wall behind me, he looked down at me with those unfathomable green eyes. “I don’t think you were,” he said, referring to the shower. I felt pinned under his gaze. “I think you were standing here, losing your nerve.”

I bit my lip, feeling a bit of my pride get wounded by his shrewd guess. But I was unable to help the subtle shivers that still rolled through my body.

“What do you care?” I whispered, sure my voice would get drowned out by the shower. “What do you care if I get my revenge or not? In the end, a soul is a soul, isn’t it? Why should you care when you get it?”

Liam stared down at me. “Do you know why I picked you?” he asked. “Do you know why you’ve gotten the nearly impossible opportunity to taste living breath again?”

I shook my head, feeling tremors still run down my spine.

“Your rage,” he answered simply. “Your absolute indignant rage at being murdered.” He ran a finger down my cheek, making me swallow hard. “Most people die resigned or in denial. They die peacefully or full of regrets. But hardly ever do people die with so much fight in their heart, as you did.”

He never broke his gaze. “You watched your entire family get tortured before your eyes before being murdered yourself. You were tortured and then killed in the room right below us. Your soul was on
fire
when you came to me. Your heart was so angry, so indignant.” He closed his eyes as if recalling a beautiful memory. “It was delicious.”

“Then why didn’t you just eat my soul then?” I asked, breathless. My heartbeat echoed against my ears. I felt Liam’s thumb brush against my bottom lip.

Liam quirked a lip. “Believe it or not, there are rules in the afterlife just as there are rules here. Souls cannot just be eaten. They must agree to it. And most people wouldn’t agree to such an act without getting something in return.”

“Their heart’s desire,” I said softly, remembering those words from that airless black space.

Liam’s eyes darkened at the words. “That’s right,” he said softly. “But it just so happens, your heart’s desire only makes your soul that much more desirable. So much anger, so much determined rage in one so young…when you finally come to me, it will be incredibly sweet.”

“So you
will
help me?” I asked. It wasn’t just a ruse as I thought?

Liam gave her a slow, lazy grin. “Oh most certainly I will help you. I am beholden by the oldest laws to always uphold bargains struck between demon and soul.” Reaching down, he yanked the towel away, making me gasp.

I was standing there in a flimsy pair of panties and bra, nearly naked. I fisted my hands to hide the trembling.

“Now the question is, are you going to
use
my help at all?” he asked. His finger traced down my cheek toward my neck, leaving a blazing trail of heat in its wake.

“What do you—”

Liam’s hand suddenly cupped my breast, pinching my nipple through the bra so hard, I gasped. The pain shot straight down my belly to the traitorous wetness that was quickly growing between my legs.

“I am not your stepbrother,” he murmured against my ear, the stubble of his cheek brushing harshly against my own softer cheek. He pulled against my other breast, emphasizing his words with his actions.

“And I did not give a once in a lifetime opportunity to a little girl who cowers in her bathroom.” His hand plunged lower, slipping below my panties. A magma of fiery need melted through me. This was more intense than anything I could have imagined. His hands were so familiar and forceful. They touched me like they knew me. And from the responses it was eliciting from me, perhaps they did.

“I gave this chance to a soul on fire,” he said, pinning me again with his glowing eyes. “That was the soul I saw. And that’s the soul I want.”

Suddenly, he thrust a hard finger into my pussy, sliding deeply through the wetness. I gasped, my eyes widening in shock. My whole body shuddered at his thrust. His gaze, hard and unforgiving, pinned me body and mind. “So be that fire, that rage, or be nothing at all,” he whispered, his lips only a breath away from mine.

I feel his hand cupping me, his finger deep within me. Instead of quenching any desire, his touch only stoked the flames. I looked up at his green eyes, the steel beneath them. My trembling stopped. My spine straightened.

A soul of rage and fire.

I shoved him off me, as hard as I could, although it felt like pushing a brick wall under water. “Get out,” I said, straightening my bra. “I need to shower.”

Liam grinned. He raised his hand, his fingers still glistening with my wetness, and took a long lick of his middle finger. I watched, mesmerized, my cheeks flushing and my heart racing.

“Mmm,” he said, looking delighted. “There’s my girl.”

Chapter Seven

              “Quite the ritzy area we’re in, aren’t we?” Liam said casually as our driver pulled us up to the mansion Senator Folsom’s dinner was being held.

              “It’s Connecticut. This is where all the moguls of New York have their mansions, e.g. Madewell Ltd,” I said.

              It was all very familiar. I remember going to dozens of dinners like this growing up. At first it was all very exciting to get dressed up for the parties. I remembered going into New York with my mom on countless excursions, just to look for the perfect designer gowns. Eventually I got tired of it all. It was all too much. Too much fake laughter. Too much wealth envy. Too much everything.

              But tonight, it felt different.

              I had looked through my closet and found an old gown that I had purchased for a dinner that I had decided against going at the last minute. Sitting at my vanity, I carefully applied my make up, feeling like a soldier applying war paint.

              I smoothed on some blush, carefully curled my lashes, and clipped on a pair of diamond earrings. With each step, I steeled myself for the evening. I would show whoever had sent those men that I had not been beaten. And I had not forgotten, either.

              Unzipping the garment bag, I pulled out the deep red silk gown. The rich color looked maroon at some angles. It was cut slim, meant to hold onto each curve all culminating in a deep low cut back that gave a luscious glimpse of skin.

              It was perfect.

              I did not want to slink into this dinner, dressed in a forgettable black, and plain as day. I would come in on a burst of color, sparkling with jewels, and radiant with the energy of the hunt.
The hunt for my killer
.

              The car pulled up. The nameless driver from a car service I had randomly looked up nodded over his shoulder at me. “We’re here, miss,” he said.

              Outside the tinted windows, I could already see the photographers and reporters outside the beautiful Connecticut mansion. It wasn’t a red carpet event. It wasn’t a movie premiere. It was a political event so it was only a modest smattering of both photographers and reporters. But regardless, once she stepped out of the car, she would be making headline news.

              The small group of journalists here will thank their lucky stars and editors that they had been sent to cover some boring, perfunctory fundraising dinner. Because at tonight’s boring, perfunctory dinner, they would have the first hand scoop of an heiress coming back from the dead.

              I took in a deep breath.

              I looked over at Liam. He looked like a fucking male model. Tall, broad shouldered, and gorgeous as the devil. He had found Liam’s suits in his old room. The black of his jacket only seemed to enhance the darkness of his face and the brightness of his green eyes.

              “Shall we?” he asked, a smile on his lips, his hand extended.

             
You’re taking the hand of the devil,
a small voice chastised me.
You’re taking the hand of the devil without even thinking about the consequences.

              I looked up into those green eyes and squashed that small voice inside me. I took his hand.

              The car door opened and I was blinded by the lights of the camera.

              “Smile, sweetheart,” I heard Liam murmur from somewhere. “The game is on.”

***

              “Is that Sophia Madewell?”

              “Oh my god! Sophia Madewell?”

              “Holy Shit! Sophia! Sophia!”

              “Sophia! Where have you been? You were buried two weeks ago!”

              “Miss Madewell! You’re not dead!”

              I choked on laughter, hearing the reporters near climb on top of each other to grab a moment of my time.

              But instead, I smiled and posed with Liam. Standing tall next to him, I felt in control. I felt in power. My heart was still racing but I felt the fringes of adrenaline pouring into my blood.

              “Isn’t that Madewell’s son? Liam? Liam!”

              “Liam! What do you have to say about the reports on your murder in LA?”

              “Weren’t you buried with your family here? Liam! A word, Liam!”

              I smiled and made sure to lift my chin and angle my hips so I didn’t get awkward shadows and my dress flared out beautifully. I had left my hair loose and long, letting the brunette waves fall across my back.

              Cameramen were literally leaning over the red velvet ropes that had been strung up to separate the press from the guests to get another shot of the Madewell kids. I smiled vivaciously, looking as alive and well as possible.

              A reporter suddenly jumped over the rope and stormed our way, the look of determined hunger in his eyes. “Sophia! Sophia! John from Channel 7, can you give us the personal scoop on—”

              I immediately took a step back but soon realized I didn't need to. Liam stepped in front of me and immediately grabbed the reporter by his jacket, swinging him away from me.

              “Miss Madewell is taking no questions at this time,” Liam said, his voice quiet and smooth.

              “But—But!” the reporter stammered, determined to get his piece. “What about you, Liam? Weren’t there reports—”

              “Miss Madewell is not taking any questions,” Liam repeated, before throwing the reporter towards a pair of security guards rushing towards us. “And neither am I.”

              Taking me firmly around the waist, Liam led me into the grandly lit foyer of the house, leaving the reporters gawking and clamoring for us.

              As we stepped into the foyer, I watched as every guest dropped their jaw, stunned by your miraculous and clearly unexpected appearance. Standing in the grand marble foyer with politicians and business magnates surrounding me, I suddenly felt an overwhelming gratitude that I wasn’t alone tonight.

              Feeling Liam’s strong arm around my waist, holding me close, made me feel stronger and safer. I knew it was irrational. It was crazy. But it was also true. Just as he kept that over-eager reporter away from me, I knew he would keep harm and danger away from me as well.

              I wasn’t alone.

              “Miss Madewell?”

              I turned around. Standing behind me was Senator Sebastian Folsom. Even before the alliance between the mining companies, Senator Folsom had been a long time friend of dad’s.

              Dad had always been a little protective of the sickly Senator. From a young age, Senator Folsom had had his hips broken severely and had always walked with a cane. Constantly getting sick, the man looked older than his sixty years. It was a constant source of surprise and triumph every time the public would reelect the crippled and sickly politician. But I could think of no better man to be seated in Congress.

              I smiled warmly, feeling my lips tremble a bit. Seeing the Senator only reminded me of my dad. Countless dinners around the dining room table, hazy evenings of cigar smoke out on the veranda, deep laughter around snifters of scotch—all memories of my dad and the Senator that tore at my heart.

              “Senator Folsom,” I said, extending my hands out to him. “How good to see you again.”

              The Senator took hold of both my hands within his large left hand, his right one holding onto his cane. His lined face looked at me with awe. “Is that really you, Sophia? Is that really you?”

              Fighting back the urge to cry, I squeezed his hand. “Yes, it’s me,” I said.

              The Senator looked like he was about to cry himself. “But the terrible news! The terrible reports!” he said in a raspy, emotional voice. “Your father then? Is he okay as well? Your sweet mother?”

              I could now feel the tears gathering at my lashes. Knowing others were watching us with unabashed interest, I shook my head and cleared my voice. “No, Senator,” I said, thankful my voice didn’t shake. “I’m afraid that part is true. Three men broke into our house and murdered my parents.”

              “But you managed to get away?” the Senator asked, his large eyes, made larger by his glasses, looked torn between grief at his loss and surprised happiness at my return.

              “Myself and Liam, yes we both did,” I said, making a gesture towards my escort.

              Senator Folsom’s head snapped up, as if woken from a trance. “Ah, yes, Liam,” he said, smiling warmly. “It has been quite a long time, indeed.”

              Senator Folsom had only met Liam on a handful of occasions, usually during family functions or holidays. I doubted he’d have even recognized Liam if I hadn’t mentioned him. He had a deeper fondness for me since he had known me since I was a little girl. And the fondness was mutual as I squeezed the older man’s hand again.

              “It has, sir,” Liam said respectfully.

              “I’m so glad,
so glad
, both of you are safe,” the Senator said emphatically holding onto my hands. His eyes shone brightly with unshed tears. “I’m glad to see that tragedy hasn’t befallen on your entire house.” He pulled me into a hug. “We must have dinner soon. I want to hear about everything. We will find the bastards who did this to your family.” As he pulled away, he smiled and looked at me warmly. “My little So-So,” he said softly before greeting the rest of his guests.

              Hearing the old nickname, my throat tightened with emotion. A cold waft of loneliness struck my heart. How many people were left on this earth who knew my old nicknames?

             
Don’t you worry, Uncle Sebastian
, I vowed to myself.
You won’t need to find the bastards.
I
will. And they will most definitely pay for what they did.

              I looked over to Liam. Standing so straight and tall beside me, his gaze focused so clearly on me, nobody dared to approach me while my dark guardian angel stood over me.

              I snorted.
Dark guardian angel.
Oh, if they only knew.

              “We should head on in, don’t you think?” Liam murmured close to my ear, putting a hand to the small of my back.

              I nodded.

              Together we moved through the large house and out towards the back gardens. Large tents had been set up and lamplights brought in, making the space seem like a magical night garden. Round tables were carefully spaced out across the garden and people were slowly starting to find their seats.

              A waiter in a crisp white jacket walked over, carrying a tray of champagne. Liam swiftly picked up two glasses and handed one to me. He looked down at me affectionately. Any person passing by would think they saw an older brother looking protectively and adoringly over at his younger sister, both putting on a brave face amidst their personal tragedy.

              But below this look of affection, Liam murmured to me, “Do you see the men?”

              I quickly scanned the space. Beautifully dressed women and men in impeccable suits filled the tent, all murmuring genially and laughing. And yet I could see each one of them unable to help themselves a quick glance our way. I couldn’t blame them. A mining magnate heiress comes back from the dead. Who could resist a look or three?

              But off to my far right, I saw Harrison Dell sitting at a table that was nearly half full of people. Harrison was a tall man and built like a redwood—wide around and tall as all get out. Even sitting down, he was nearly eye level with some of the women standing around him.