Authors: Michelle A Valentine
When the room grows still, I know he’s here and my pulse quickens. I can sense his presence and, after all, this is his trademark tornado entry.
One of the daggers I had blessed by a priest off the internet few days before presses hard into my back. The steel handle warm against my skin as the blade remains covered in the waistband of my pants. It’s the next method I’ll use to try and kill the little demon bastard.
“Hello, Natalie.” I open my eyes to the sound of the little dark-haired demon boy’s voice. He looks innocent as he stands in the doorway of the lobby in his black slacks and white button down shirt and vest, definitely not what first comes to mind when you think of evil creatures from hell.
My eyes roll. Here we go again. I wish he wouldn’t address me like we’re friends, because we are so not. Sure, I’m grateful he didn’t kill me when he had the chance, but still, he’s ruined my life with his little visits. The whole town thinks I’m a crazy nut-ball thanks to him. Hopefully this dagger will take him out once and for all and I can finally get my life back.
My right hand inches behind my back. The hilt of the dagger is firm in my palm. This is it. It’s now or never. My muscles tense in my shoulder as I start the motion to jerk the weapon from my waistband.
Wind whips in my face and I suddenly find myself pinned against the chair. Damn. He’s quick.
The demon grips my arm with his tiny fingers with a force not even an professional body-builder can budge. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You know your plans to kill me never work. Why even try anymore?”
He grabs the dagger from my hand and checks it out, flipping it over and over in his hand. He smiles at me, and shakes his head before he takes a couple steps backwards. With a flick of a wrist, he throws the dagger straight up into the ceiling. It sinks into the fancy marble with ease clear up the handle, like it’s cutting through butter.
My mouth goes dry. Damn it. There goes that idea. I really thought that dagger would finally do the trick. I’ve nearly tried everything on him. Now, I’m forced to sit here and watch. Powerless, yet again as he collects another soul.
His dark gray eyes stare into me and my insides churn. Why does he look at me like that, like there’s more he wants to say? It scares the hell out of me, but I can’t let him see my fear. If I’ve learned anything at all over the years it’s fear is a weakness to him and I can’t let him know he has that much power over me.
I clamp my eyes shut again, and take a breath in through my nose to stop the quiver that prickles in my throat. “Just do what you came here for and leave me alone. I’m not in the mood for one of your little chats today.”
His footsteps echo off the marble floor, each one sounds closer than the last. When he stops, I can sense he’s about an arms length away. “Have it your way, but you did promise to be mine. You’ll have to get used to talking with me eventually. We made a deal, remember?”
How could I ever forget making a deal with him when I was five to save my mom? If only she hadn’t chosen to make us hot dogs for lunch that day, she wouldn’t have choked. And he would’ve never came to my door and been able to trick me into promising him my soul.
When I don’t answer he takes a slow breath and then sighs. My eyes snap open in time to watch him squat next to the dying man. Mr. Wellington’s humongous frame dwarfs him, but the boy exudes power, and is in total control of the situation at hand. Mr. Wellington’s skin is a faint shade of blue, signs of no circulation—heart attack victim this time. The demon bends down and slips a faint whisper—words I can’t hear—in Mr. Wellington’s ear. He closes his eyes and slowly nods.
I’ve never figured out what the demon says to the people he steals souls from, but whatever it is he promises them, they always say yes. He knows what gets to a person. He knows what it takes for a person to hand over their soul to him, just like how he knew how to get to me when I was a kid.
Mr. Wellington attempts to extend his shaky hand to the demonic boy. The boy’s eyes light up and his little pink lips curve into an angelic smile. The demon shakes the outstretched hand. When their skin meet, my palm screams with the same electrical shock I felt when I shook the boy’s hand. I can feel the energy that flows between them as they seal the deal. A low grunt escapes my lips and I grimace from the pain. Every time he makes a deal in my presence and shakes a hand I’m tortured.
Without warning the little boy whips his head toward me, his gray eyes flash a blinding, white light. “Natalie, close your eyes.”
The vibration in my bones heightens as the demon exerts more power. On command, my eyes snap shut once more, and I bury my face into my knees. He always tells me not to watch. My index fingers jam into my ears, but I can still hear Mr. Wellington’s screams while the demon finishes off what the heart attack started.
Curiosity wins out and I peek over my knees. It’s like a car wreck. I can’t help but to look.
My body trembles as the soul of the man darts through his open mouth. It hovers like a see-through angel above him. A black-glass vial positions beneath Mr. Wellington’s hovering soul. The demon chants some foreign language and his eyes glow a brilliant white as he says the last word. His fingers twist off the lid of the vial. Mr. Wellington’s soul morphs into a ball of white light and bounces in a current of air. It’s ready to be collected.
The demon extends the black vial away from his body. His white eyes stare at the hovering ball of energy, like if he blinks it will disappear. The soul shrinks to the size of a dust particle and plummets into the tiny, glass container. After the demon double checks the lid, he stuffs it back into his pocket like it’s a pack of gum. Mr. Wellington’s lifeless body is all that’s left behind. Cold and unmoving.
The demon always kills them. Not once has he ever left a person who made a deal alive. Not one, except me.
Acknowledgements
First I want to thank you, the reader, without you writing would be meaningless. The love and support I feel from you guys drives me to keep writing. So, thank you, from the bottom of my heart.
Next comes my writing pals! You ladies truly inspire me and make me want to be a better writer. Thank you for talking me off the ledge many times and threatening to kick my ass when I get down. You three, Emily Snow, Katie Ashley, and Kelli Maine, mean the world to me and I am so unbelievably happy we’ve been through this crazy writing journey together. You guys are my eagle eyes. Thanks for everything you’ve taught me about the business over the years. Love you guys. GGBT foreva!
To Kristen Proby, I value our friendship and am so glad 2012 led you into my little smutty writing circle!
My new friends in the romance book blogging community, you know who you are. Thank you for pimping me and my work. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate every Facebook share, retweet, post, review, author day and any way you’ve spread the word about my novels. You guys rock so much and are turning the publishing world upside down with your awesomeness! You guys are the life blood of all of us indie writers. We couldn’t do it without you.
Tanya Keetch, aka THE WORD MAID, thank you for your keen editing eyes and always being there for me in a pinch. I am so thankful our paths crossed and am happy to call you a friend.
To Cris Soriaga Hadarly thank you for being one of the best readers EVER! Thank you for all the time and hard work you put into making fan trailers for this series. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve watched them and just sat in awe of your mad ninja skills! Thank you for everything you do.
Holly Malgieri, my girl and one of favorite partners in crime. Thank you for all the laughs, interesting pictures and most of all for always putting together my book tours. I know how much work goes into coordinating them, and I want you to know I appreciate every minute you’ve spent on it. You rock, girlie!
My girls in Rock the Heart Discussion group, you all make me smile every day! Thank you for all your love, support and friendship.
Last, but never least, a huge thank you to my family. Thank you for putting up with an empty refrigerator, piles of dirty laundry and me hiding away until this novella was done. You guys are the best, and I couldn’t/wouldn’t do this without you. Love you lots.
About the Author
New York Times
Best Selling author Michelle A. Valentine is a Central Ohio nurse turned author of erotic romance of novels. Her love of hard-rock music, tattoos and sexy musicians inspired her sexy BLACK FALCON series.
Find her:
Facebook
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Michelle-A-Valentine/477823962249268?ref=hl
Twitter
@M_A_Valentine
Blog:
http://michelleavalentine.blogspot.com/
Table of Contents
Black Falcon Series Reading Order
ROCK MY BED (Black Falcon, #2)
Chapter 1