Priceless (Once Wicked #1) Page 3

  I could hear her heart beating out of control. Her fear blanketed her body like a scent meant to draw me near. I closed the gap between us so that there was little more than a thin sheet between us. It took all the control I could muster not to lay a finger on her. If I did, no matter how badly I wanted her, it wouldn’t end well—not with this hunger festering in me.

  “You are a liar, Piper.”

  “So what if I am?” she said as defiantly as one could in a pair of handcuffs. “You’ve already made your decision about what you’re going to do with me, haven’t you?”

  “There are many things I want to do to you. And I will. I own your ass,” I said more for my benefit—not hers. Her soul was mine; her mother offered it away. While I could steal other’s lives and kill them, Piper was different. I could literally do what I wanted with her because I owned her soul.

  “Yours? Ha! No one owns me! Not you. Not one freaking person. And as soon as I have access to the trust, I’m getting the hell out of Dodge. I’ll be free of every manipulative person in my life.” She mentioned freedom like it was an unattainable dream that only the privileged possessed.

  My chest ached. I hated it. She wanted exactly what I was so desperate to attain—what she already had but didn’t realize. Fuck! She wasn’t plagued with the same unsatisfying hunger, yet she felt trapped. For the first time in decades, I hesitated.

  Could I go through with my plan to pass this curse onto her and free myself of it?

  I’d set Piper up with a trust after completing my second agreement with Emilie. All I asked was for a small percentage of Emilie’s income to be put into a trust for safe keeping. Money should keep her semi-satisfied until she learned to control the greed corrupting her soul.

  Guilt—that wasn’t an emotion I’d felt in years. And yet, when I looked into her wild blue eyes, I was overwhelmed with it.

  “You’re free right now,” I whispered. The words sounded detached even to me.

  She clanged her handcuffs together. “Feels like it.”

  Pulling out a police issued key, I reached around her thin frame. A soft gasp fled from her lips. I relished in that beckoning noise! My demonic side wanted to coax it out of her over and over again. She’s no good to me if I fed on her. Instead of giving into my demonic temptations, I slipped the key into the lock and freed her.

  The cuffs dropped unceremoniously onto the floor. She wasted no time grabbing the dagger from the nightstand and pointed it at me. With much curiosity, I watched her struggle to hold up the sheets along with the dagger. Amateur.

  “You have a pair,” I said, half impressed.

  “Get out,” she demanded.

  She crinkled her freckled nose in an extremely endearing manner. It was meant to be intimidating, but it came off as…adorable.

  Crossing my arms, I raised my eyebrow and gave her the once over. Her adorableness was irrelevant. If I was going to be free of this curse, then I must stop staring at her Goddamn smile and focus!

  “I’ll leave when I damn well please, Piper. And I’m not done with you just yet. You stole from me. Remember? Or is that tiny detail insignificant to you?”

  We met people who inevitably changed our lives—even if they were seemingly insignificant. The random choices that brought us together were sometimes the ones that altered our destiny forever. Declan was one such person. I didn’t care if we’d just met or that we’d barely held a conversation. I knew that there was more to him than his superficial reputation. That inalienable truth burned in my soul. I ran into Declan for a millisecond, and I knew my life would be forever changed—however long that may be.

  Time slipped by. Seconds multiplied to minutes. Yet he didn’t seem to be alarmed I was armed with the dagger. He circled me, like he was inspecting a piece of merchandise. He stomped down on the corner of the sheet. It exposed my bare back, but I clutched it tightly to keep from giving him a peep-show. I shot him a glare.

  The fucker smiled.

  “Nice dimples,” his said, staring at the indentations in my cheeks even though he was talking about the ones south of the border.

  Son-of-a-bit— The way his grin curled upward was infuriating, but what I hated more was the way it made the corner of my mouth tug upward when he smiled.

  “So if you aren’t going to leave, what are your intentions?” I asked.

  He leaned against the wall casually and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’d like you to feel comfortable around me. I find your company to be quite…intriguing.”

  “Intriguing?”

  I expected him to give me the once over, glance at my lips or make a snide remark. But instead, he gave me the full force of his calculating stare. His eyes locked with mine, and I couldn’t remember how to breathe.

  His voice came out rough. “Quite intriguing.”

  Tearing his attention off of me, Declan picked up my jacket that was on top of the dresser. He flipped it between his hands and gave it a sniff.

  “You steal but have little interest in money.” He looked quizzically at me for an explanation. “You’re not instinctually greedy.”

  “Therein lies the essential difference between us, Declan.”

  “You are no different from me! I was exactly like you, before this blasted Incubus cur—”

  —he shoved me against the wall and pinned my injured hand above my head. The speed at which he moved was incredible, as was his grip. No wonder he wasn’t concerned about the dagger; his freaking body was a weapon! Clearly, he’d been toying with me.

  I may not be very apt in knife-fights, but even I couldn’t miss the gigantic vein in his neck. As he tightened his grip around my wrist, I brought the blade against his carotid artery.

  “Get off of me!” I pressed the dagger against his neck.

  In a flash, he ripped the dagger from my grasp and chucked it across the room with expert precision, like he’d thrown that dagger a thousand times before. Sparks flew from the blade when it slammed into the wall. It had to have struck an electrical outlet—there was no other logical explanation.

  “My apologies.” The words stumbled from his mouth like he’d never said them before. “My temper rules me, not the other way around.”

  Guilt showed in his eyes. It was like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be my enemy or my friend. No, scratch that. A friendship wasn’t right. He was contemptible enough to be my enemy, but the connection between us was closer than a mere friendship. But to define it wasn’t easy, especially when he was holding me so close.

  He brought my injured hand to my chest and then hesitated. “You must be more careful, Piper.”

  He cared? Normally, I would have responded with a witty retort, but I couldn’t remember how to speak as he slowly slipped his fingers over mine. His touch was so faint I could only focus on how he caressed my skin. This man—so cold and detached—had a gentle touch. It was so unexpected.

  Without warning, he pushed away from me and retrieved his phone from his pocket. He didn’t greet the person on the other line nor did he wait to hear what that person wanted to say. “Send a medic to Bellagio, room nine-o-one.” There was a pause while he glanced back at my hand that was bleeding all over the sheets. “No, a body bag isn’t necessary this time.”

  He ended the call. His indifference to the person on the phone had not gone unnoticed. People were disposable to him. Was I? If I was, wouldn’t he have done something already? So it begged the question: What did he want with me? He was dangerous. Period. But there had to be a reason why he was so desperately manic. People weren’t just this frantic for no good reason. What was his?

  I swallowed the lump in my throat and decided to start with a reason why I’d become so desperate. Why had I chosen to live on the streets instead of a mansion; why I cherished the kindness of strangers over family; why I wanted a different life? It all boiled down to my mother. Emilie was septic. Her corruption spoiled absolute. Declan knew her—or at least of her. Maybe it would shed some light on to why he was the way he was.


  “You whistle when you concentrate,” Declan stated.

  That took me by surprise. I hadn’t even realized I did that. But I refused to get side-tracked. “You thought I was Emilie when we were outside of the MGM. What do you know about her?”

  He jerked the dagger out of the wall. Again, sparks flew. That it hadn’t caused an electrical fire was a small miracle. He stared at the dagger possessively. The longer he glared at it, the more I realized he was reliving a horrible painful moment. The dagger had to be significant to him, even though it had been in my family for years. Nevertheless, nothing showed in his expression, which was his tell. When his face became vacant of emotion was when he was trying his hardest not to reveal his true self. Then, as if noticing that I was memorizing his every move, he became cold once more.

  He casually tossed it onto the bed, like it meant nothing to him. That was a bluff. It meant everything to him—or was symbolic to him in some form or another. I’d bet my life on it.

  Hatred seeped from his confession when he spoke. “I know that Emilie would sell her soul if the price was right.”

  I laughed. “No, she’d sell mine.”

  She’d sell mine.

  Piper’s comment resonated in my mind. How much did she know about the offer I’d made to Emilie? I watched demeanor to gage her knowledge about what she knew about the night I found Emilie sprawled out on Trevis faux tomb.

  “Why do you think that?” I asked casually.

  “I was merely a byproduct of a failed marriage,” I said. “I was simply a gigantic expense to her. It cost to clothe me, feed me, and so anything that wasn’t necessary to keep me physically alive was dismissed as unnecessary. I meant nothing to her and she’d give me up if it bettered her. And it was painfully obvious that Dad didn’t love her, so after he mysteriously died, money was all that mattered to my mother.”

  “Money comes first to many people,” I admitted. “You’ll learn that cold-hard truth soon enough.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean by that?”

  “I mean that I wished your circumstances were different.” I wished our circumstances were different.

  “By circumstances…”

  Unable to keep myself away—I pushed off of the wall. I strode closer to her, wanting her more and more with each step. Clenching my teeth, I tried to get a grip and focus. This girl—this prize I reaped from decades ago was unfurling my demeanor without even trying. She didn’t miss a beat, telling me off about how our circumstances were nothing alike—damn it. I didn’t care what she was saying. Her voice fucking called to me in a way that was both tempting and agitating. I just wanted to shut her up. Needed to. God, I’d do anything to make her speechless.

  “Stop. Talking.” I pried the dagger from her hand once again. I didn’t remember grabbing it. I didn’t remember taking her injured hand and clutching it safely against my chest. I didn’t recall tucking her hair behind her ear so that it didn’t take away from her gorgeous fucking eyes.

  Of course she didn’t stop talking. Why would she? She disobeyed my every order thus far.

  She yelled, “Why will nothing be the same?”

  Her heart pounded more rapidly when I traced my thumb over her bottom lip. Finally, she stopped talking but she was far from being soundless. A faint whimper slipped from her delicate throat.

  “Because we finally met.”

  The animalistic desires that accompanied the Incubus curse were magnified the longer she allowed me to caress her. I thought I knew what Greed was. I thought I understood what it was like to be consumed by a single feeling. But I hadn’t a clue until now. Until Piper.

  A knock on the door interrupted my lust filled scrutiny. I was actually grateful for the interruption—grateful that I hadn’t done something stupid like kiss her.

  In a few steps, I made it to the entrance and opened it. Jameson, posing as a medic, was on the other side of the door. I let him in. As soon as he assured me that Piper would be fine I left. I couldn’t stand to be in the room another second with her and not do something incredibly stupid.

  I couldn’t stand to be in the room another second with him and not get through my thick head that Declan was sooo wrong for me! I was on edge. And excited. And scared. And…and lonely? That he’d stormed out of the room left a void I didn’t know was empty.

  And then there was the way he looked at me when I talked about freedom. It gave me the chills…in a good way. I’d finally met someone who understood what it meant to be trapped. How he was trapped—I hadn’t a clue. But that connection between us was instantaneous.

  “That’s a lovely tune,” the medic said, interrupting my thoughts as he secured the bandage around my hand.

  Dang it! I was whistling again. I really needed to work on that “tell.”

  He commented, “You must be thinking about someone special.”

  “No one special,” I said, the lie saturating my tongue. I glanced at his name tag. “Jameson.”

  “To Mr. Stilts you are. He rarely leaves survivors and when he does, it’s just to use them, so watch your back around him, okay? He’s a genius at manipulation, and what he can’t get people to do willingly, he’ll buy. With as much money as Stilts has, you’d think he was printing it. The way he invests is like watching someone spin straw into gold. He’s got a talent when it comes to numbers. It’s unreal to watch him work.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “He got me out of a few sticky situations, so I owe him, but that doesn’t mean I like the guy. He has zero morality.”

  With his crew cut hair cut, tattooed-free skin, and clean cut style, he didn’t look like he had been in many sticky situations. “Gambling problem?”

  “Races,” he admitted.

  After Jameson left, I changed into my clean clothes and slipped on my jacket. Only then did I realize why Declan had taken his sweet time in fondling it.

  My carbon-copies were gone! The only way I could ensure my mother would hand over my trust fund from my father, the only proof I had against her had disappeared. My ticket to freedom was gone!

  Declan wasn’t done with me. Not even close.

  I wasn’t done with Piper—not even close.

  One of the first things a con artist learns was the slight-of-hand. Flipping Piper’s jacket in my hands should have been a dead giveaway that I was stealing from her. That she hadn’t noticed when I was taking one of her most prized possessions meant that she’d been quite distracted by me. I’d done due diligence in taking her mind off of things. That pleased me insanely.

  Nevertheless, I had to hand it to Piper. It was genius to obtain evidence to use against Emilie. The woman was ruthless, and I wouldn’t put it past her to try and lay claim to the trust I’d set Piper up with.

  So why did I take the carbon-copies from Piper? I needed a reason to keep her around and make it appear like her decision to stay in Vegas, not mine. That was how to be successful in manipulating others to do what you wanted.

  And I wanted to be free of the Incubus curse.

  However, guilt struck me each time I thought about passing along the Incubus curse to her. But I couldn’t do it anymore! Cursed for centuries was long enough. I hated that it had to be Piper. I wished it could have been anyone else, but I didn’t own anyone else’s soul. Everyone all had their price. People came to me, willing to wager all their property, their bank accounts, any one thing to get what they wished. But Emilie was different. I knew it as soon as I smelled her desperation, which was when I began planning my freedom. Emilie was the only person who’d ever taken me up on my offer to give away another person’s life.

  ***

  Weeks passed. Piper made no effort to contact me. Being in the public eye, the casino’s golden boy, and up-and-coming MMA fighter, it wouldn’t be difficult for her to get my contact information. But I didn’t even hear so much of a peep from her on social media. I fought the urge to go to the Bellagio. I knew she was there from the credit card statement.
However, it was quite irritating that she racked up the bill there. Pay-per-view, the massage service, extravagant shopping trips—I knew she didn’t care about any of them. This was her way of sending a message: Give her back her receipts and she’d stop racking up the credit card bill. I understood that asking anything of me would be a sign of defeat, just like it would be if I turned my card off…but damn I hadn’t expected her to be so cunning.

  Every day, her purchases got more and more. I knew she was daring when I got a picture message from her when in front of MGM’s gambling monitors, pointing out card counters to Captain Jameson. It was the first time she’d ever contacted me—apparently I’d gotten her a new cell phone last week. That was sure nice of me.

  The image was a selfie. The adrenaline rush that accompanied any thought of Piper was unlike anything I’d felt in centuries. An enormous black diamond chocker encompassed Piper’s neck. In the foreground was her fucking smirk. I could barely take my eyes off her dimples...when I was able to tear my gaze away from the picture, I logged onto my bank account. Ten grand!

  “Damn it, Piper!” I chucked the phone across the room, smashing it into the wall, shattering it.

  “Woman problems?” Jameson quipped.

  I gripped the table and willed the persistent rage to calm. I fought the urge to smash in someone’s fucking face in, which would just be a freaking delight to the captain who was just itching for a public excuse to lock me up. He may work for me, but I knew he loathed me. I could smell the stank on him. I wanted to end his life, siphon all the essence from his soul. But more than anything else, I wanted to kill her.

  Declan wanted my head on a platter. At least I figured he would want to kill me after I sent him the picture of my five-figure bling. Curled up on the hotel bed, I twirled the dagger in my hands wishing I knew why the weapon was so important to him. When I closed my eyes, I relived the moment when he pried it from my hands and looked down at me like it pained him to know I was hurt. The cut on my hand had long since healed, but his light touch was embedded to memory. He had a long-lasting effect on me.