Chapter 34
34
Samantha
Ramone wasn’t wrong, I could most certainly feel his reactions toward me. As time had gone on, it’d gotten stronger. What I didn’t tell him was that at that art exhibition so long ago, I’d felt something. I hadn’t been able to put a finger on it at the time, but I’d been overwhelmed with a sensation that something had changed. The feeling was so strong that it stayed with me, and I’d never forgotten it.
It was hard to excuse Ramone’s mistreatment of me. I understood his logic, to a degree, but that didn’t make it right. He’d said he was the devil—or a devil? Did it even matter? His behavior was in line with such a moniker.
Sitting up, I asked, “Do you really believe you’re a devil? You act like one.”
Annoyance lit his gaze before he smirked at my observation. “There’s a reason there’s a common saying about the devil’s greatest trick. No one ever believes in me.” He almost seemed sad over the words he spoke. “It's not a matter of belief, it's the fact that I am. The devil, not a devil. Well, when my father steps down I’ll be him.”
The correct response to what he’d just said eluded me. “You need therapy.”
“I know,” he replied, arching a brow. “It wouldn’t go well, in any form or fashion. But not for that, there’s no need of counseling for my identity. Perhaps if you met my father, you’d believe me. Pray that you don’t and maybe someone will answer your prayers.”
I chuckled at his dismissive instructions for prayer. My family went to church when I was younger, but it was just for show and nothing I was interested in. “I can’t imagine therapy going good when you claim you’re the devil.”
“If you don’t believe me, then what do you think I am? What do you think has been happening to you?” Ramone laced his fingers through mine, sending a shiver up my spine.
He was too irresistible, and I found myself sliding closer to him, so our shoulders touched. He bent and kissed the top of my head. His question slithered around in my mind. It almost made more sense to believe him than not.
“I don’t know. It's just weird.” He pulled my hand onto his lap. “Do you have a Facebook page?” Supernatural creatures wouldn’t do something like that, use social media, I guessed. It was such a random thought, I felt compelled to ask.
“What?” Ramone looked horrified.
“Social media. It's all the rage. I was just wondering if the devil has an online presence. I mean, everything else is weird so why wouldn’t you?”
“No,” he snapped. “What a waste of time. I have more important things to do than send people pictures of myself.”
I laughed. “That’s not exactly what it is but if you own such a massive company, why wouldn’t you at least have Twitter? For your company? It’s good for business.”
He still looked appalled. “I do know what it is, and yes, my company uses it. I, however, personally don’t. It's a great source of useful energy.”
“You just said it's a waste of time?”
Ramone appeared pensive for a moment. “My kind feed off energy; the internet is the main source although there are others. I don’t want to get into it right now.”
He rolled onto his side, taking me in his arms so we were face to face. I let him, despite my earlier protestations and complaints about his behavior. It galled me, but he was right when he said I wanted him. Before I could ask him what he was talking about, his lips molded to mine.
Ramone moved me, pulling me underneath him without breaking our kiss and then began tracing my thigh with his hand. All I could do was focus on the pleasure he was giving me, with his smooth touch and the soft feel of his lips against mine. The air around us felt charged with electricity, as if it had a density or weight and was a living, breathing thing.
He thrust his tongue inside my mouth as he slid his hand up my side, to finally wrap around my throat. He shifted his body away, and I shook, the separation instigating a full body ache as if I’d lost a vital piece of myself. I know I whimpered over being left wanting, and he brought himself right back, partially undressed.
“You can taste it, right?” Ramone asked, his lips lightly brushing mine. “Can you taste how much I want you, how much I need you? My violence and darkness for you?”
Shivering, I shoved my mouth against his as he pulled my leggings down with his free hand. My heart raced while he dragged the material from my body, one of my hands clawing his shoulder when he bent my legs, finally freeing me. My hand slid away to unbutton his shirt, with his full lips kissing me everywhere he could reach. My shoulders, my collarbone, my cheeks. His sensual assault left my mind blank, unable to drag my previous concerns back to the forefront.
For now, I was unrestricted. I was free to just be myself and indulge with someone who expected nothing of me other than my heart. I had no lofty standards to live up to, no contrived words to utter, no future expectations of fulfilling a predestined, illusory role.
Ramone sat back and nudged my legs open with his knee before settling between them. He pulled his shirt off and tossed it away, gazing down at my now naked body, licking his lips. He fisted his cock, sliding his hand up and down, drinking me in with his bright eyes. The air seemed to shimmer between us as he leaned down and slid up between my legs. My upper thighs were sticky with moisture, my body craving his. The moment I felt subconscious over the evidence of my arousal was the same moment his head darted down. He dragged his tongue along my flesh, groaning, and then bit me. When I yelped, he laughed darkly, before crushing his lips to my own.
Reaching for him, I curled my arms over his shoulders. He switched his focus to my neck, feathering his lips along the skin below my ear leaving my skin tingling under his warm breath. The same sensation I’d felt in the car wound its way through me, an impression of being caressed from the inside out, the softest touch of satin smoothing its way around every pleasurable nerve.
A soft fragrance filled my consciousness, spicy and sweet. The bliss was like nothing I’d ever felt before. It was almost better than an orgasm, however it was that Ramone joined us in this way. If Ramone wasn’t the devil, he was some type of sex god. A short chuckle escaped my lips, earning me a growl.
He gripped the nape of my neck, a dazed look in his eyes. “What?”
I whispered, “If you’re not the devil, you’re a sex god.”
“Only for you. Now be a good girl and take my cock.”
Ramone nipped my lip and then pressed his teeth in until I tasted blood. He plunged his tongue into my mouth as he filled me and then began rolling his hips. Waves of pleasure consumed me, and I raised my hips to meet his thrusts.
He backed away after a little bit, eliciting groans from me as I reached for him, but he snagged my wrists with his hand and used his other to pull my legs up. “Keep your arms up,” he ordered me, after setting them above my head on the pillow.
Ramone leaned down and sucked one of my nipples into his mouth before biting and my arm jerked, earning me a warning. My back arched off the bed as he thrust into me, hard and fast. It was all I could do to keep my arms above my head while I writhed beneath him. I wanted to tangle my fingers in his hair, claw at his back. The desire to touch him, feel his flesh was unbearable.
So, I chose to no longer bear it, dragging my limbs from the pillow and sinking my claws right into him. Ramone stilled and grabbed my chin. “Not very obedient, are we?” His tone was serious, but his eyes sparkled with amusement.
“I need to touch you,” I pleaded.
He narrowed his eyes and dragged his length out, sliding his hands down my body slowly, and leaving the tip right at my entrance. “My little witch, you’ll do what I tell you. Put your hands back.”
Slowly, not taking my eyes off him, I did what I was told. It felt like torture, not being able to revel in the feel of him, being restricted from smoothing my hands over his sleek shoulders and back. The necessity to do so was similar to the need for oxygen. I would choke without either.
Whimpering, I attempted to angle myself to force his dick back into my pussy. He stalled my movements with a firm clasp of my hips, his fingers digging into my skin hard enough to bruise. “How does it feel being denied the one thing you really want?” he hissed in my ear. “You feel like you’ll die without touching me, don’t you?”
Goosebumps flared across my flesh as his words chilled me and sent a fresh cascade of desire coursing through my blood. That was precisely what it felt like. Imagining being without him was unthinkable. I was fucked and I knew it. It didn’t matter what he’d done to me before, the connection between the two of us was unquestionable. Even though he was manipulating me during sex, it did nothing to douse the flames.
If anything, it was like throwing lighter fluid on a bonfire.
My lover spoke again. “That’s how I feel, thinking about being without you.” He slammed into me, taking my breath away, holding onto my hips. He kept up the pace, plunging into me, over and over, trapping me exactly where he wanted me.
“Ramone,” I said. He knew what I wanted and reached up for my arms, kissing my fingers before setting me free. I clung to him, finally feeling like I could breathe. He began to lose his rhythm and I reached for his hand, bringing it to my clit.
He opened his eyes and bent down to trail kisses up my neck before settling on my mouth as he stroked my most sensitive area, expertly bringing me to climax as he found his own. We shattered in synchronicity, ending up a tangled sweaty mess on my bed. I drifted asleep in his arms as he whispered to me.
When I woke up in the morning, the bed was empty. I laid in bed for a moment instead of getting up right away as I normally would. While I was mildly disappointed Ramone had left, I was also slightly relieved as it gave me time to think. What if what Ramone promised me was true and he’d never let me go? What if he was the devil? How does that even work? He seemed more like an unusually handsome human with magical capabilities than an irrevocably evil being who would damn sinners to hell.
Shaking my head at the unbelievable thought, I threw my covers off and got up. A paper sat on my nightstand, and I picked it up. Ramone had left me a note in flowing script, wishing me a good morning and telling me he’d see me later. It was the same penmanship I’d seen before, with the dress box. He had beautiful handwriting as if he’d learned cursive in the sixteen hundreds.
Bringing my phone with me, I settled on my living room couch with a cup of coffee and answered text messages and emails. There was an event I was to attend tonight with my parents, a benefit dinner. The plates were thousands of dollars each. Seeing as our social circles had recently begun to cross, I texted Ramone asking him if he would be there. His answer was instant, “Yes, sweetheart.”
The effect he was having on me, from one simple text containing two words, was almost embarrassing. I was sitting all alone in my house grinning as if I were thirteen years old again. Then I laughed to myself because who the hell cares? I was falling in love—if I wasn’t already there—with the prince of darkness.
When I got dressed for work, I didn’t bother to even begin to attempt to cover up the bite mark and bruise on my collarbone. I wouldn’t tonight, either, unless my outfit happened to cover it on its own. A dress hadn’t been decided on yet.
“Is that a bite mark?” Toni stared at my chest when I walked behind the counter after arriving at my shop.
I hung up my coat and turned back toward her, absentmindedly running my fingers along my skin. “It is.”
Her eyes widened. “From who? I’m going to assume it was consensual?”
“It was,” I answered, heading toward my work bench.
Toni was hot on my tail. “Okay, consensual with who?”
My assumption, based on Ramone’s dedication toward me, told me he wouldn’t mind me saying anything, but I also knew he was very private in many ways. “Please keep it between the two of us but it was Ramone.”
“Ramone?” Her brows furrowed.
“The man who came in looking for demonology books.”
Toni’s eyes widened. “The gazillionaire?” Marshall had filled us in on the details of Fulgere Industries not that long ago. I nodded.
Pulling my mixing equipment forward, I sat at my bench, my head spinning. Toni hovered like she wanted to say something else before moving away.
After a minute she came back, hovering. She said, “That guy?”
Sighing, I replied, “Yes.”
“Okay.”
“What’s the problem?” As hard as I tried, I couldn’t get myself in gear to focus on my work. All I could think about was Ramone, the place he called the Fourth Realm, and the crazy visions I’d seen in the crystal ball.
“He’s a biter?” She moved away again.
Laughing, I called over my shoulder, “It would appear so.”
Toni was doing something by the front register; I could hear papers rustling and things moving. “Are you gonna cover the marks later?”
She meant for the benefit dinner. “No. Not on purpose, anyway.”
I heard Toni suck in a breath. “Woman.... I’m proud of you. I mean, that’s a little extreme but you go girl.” She giggled.
Joining her in a laugh, I said, “Yeah, I guess he has that effect on me.”
“I’ll say,” Toni said. “Pretty soon you’ll only being going out when you want to, like me. It's a slippery slope.”
I’d always admired Toni’s freedom to do whatever she wanted. Like myself, she didn’t need to work, but she did so anyway. Unlike myself, she only went to social events in our circle if she felt like it. We’d hit it off right away when we met and I’d been so happy when she decided to work with me, here at my shop. She understood the pressure I felt, having had it instilled in both of us at an early age that we must live up to certain standards and only mingle with those of similar social and financial status. Granted, because of my little sister, my situation was more extreme. She broke free, and I never did.
Until now.
The fall out wasn’t something I was certain I was prepared for, but I had to rip the figurative band-aid off. I had the insight to be more than aware that to most people, having a bruise visible to the public was no big deal. To my parents, it was completely unacceptable. It’d also remind them of my sister’s battered body after the accident and my mother couldn’t handle even the slightest reminder. Everything had to be perfect all the time. I’d always wanted to be free of the restraints, the desire had sat just below the surface, festering. I’d never given nearly as much thought as I should about changing my life. I’d been just content enough to go with the status quo—it was easy. I’d never put in the hard work to develop the way I should have and show my family a backbone. Not after my sister’s death. I’d allowed my parents’ fears and insecurities to infect me.
Remembering the man smoking inside at the cancer fundraiser, I giggled softly. Those men, Ramone and his associates, didn’t care what anyone thought. A small thrill ran through me. I needed to not care what anyone assumed of me, too.
“Toni?” I turned my head toward my friend, getting her attention. “I’m scared.”
Her face softened. “You’ll be okay. It's just a tiny, tiny step. Start with that, and then go farther.”
My hands trembled and I placed the glass vial I’d been holding, down. “I don’t want to disappoint my mom and dad.” An uncomfortable feeling trickled through me from opening myself up the way I was. Sharing vulnerable feelings wasn’t something I normally did.
“They’re your parents, they’ll love you no matter what, I’m sure. It’s just a bruise, it’s almost pathetic it’s your first act of rebellion but I get it. You can’t live your life for your mom and dad, though.”
Drumming my fingers on the desk surface, I sighed. “I know. My life’s just been a little weird lately and I guess it's made me take a deeper look at things. I’m old now. It feels too late to start over, in a way.”
Toni laughed. “You’re not old,” she giggled. “Not even close. If you are then I am too. Who ya callin’ old?”
I smiled at her. “I feel old but yes, okay, you’re right.” It was a refreshing feeling, talking to her about these deeper things. “Thank you.”
She grinned. “Of course.”
“This is dumb. I should just show up in jeans. I feel pathetic starting with a visible bruise.” I hung my head down, before setting my forehead on the edge of my table.
Toni came over and rubbed my back. “Well, knowing your parents, it's good to start with something that small. Plus, if you look closely, it's a sex bruise, so...” She giggled.
Lifting my head, I said, “Good point.” Turning, I gave her a small smile and then took a deep breath.
I set the vial I held in my hand down. “It's all fake, isn’t it?”
“What? What do you mean?”
Biting my lip, I tried to think of the right words. “All of it. I don’t think my parents really care. I don’t think anyone really cares, as long as they look good.”
Toni appeared pensive. “Only you would know, about your parents. The rest of them—yeah, screw them. Why do you think I stay away?”
“I don’t really know what to think, but I think, if I just disappeared, my parents would only miss what I can do for them.” My heart ached at the thought, the tumult of emotions I’d been suppressing assaulting my heart.
“Well, if you do disappear, try to give me notice before hand.”
I laughed. “I’ll give the standard two weeks’ notice.”
The rest of my workday passed without incident although Ramone’s warning that I would be a “target” lingered, hanging over my head. He’d never specifically told me what that entailed and I’d kept one eye on the front door of my store most of the day and once I’d arrived home, my nervous thoughts overtook me.
Having seen the visions in the crystal ball was surreal and confusing. Why me? There was no reason I should be able to get a glimpse of the past, and in a completely different world. It made no sense.
The images I had been subjected to were brutal and depressing. I shuddered, remembering the bloody scenes. Ramone had asked what I’d seen, but I’d only mentioned a small part of what I’d been forced to view, not wanting to relive the memories.
After I took a shower, I chose a dress that exposed my chest a bit, leaving the bite mark on full display. Earlier, I’d been uncertain but now I was positive I wanted to wear whatever I wanted to wear, whether it displayed imperfections or not. It was okay for there to be cracks in our family, Everyone had them, to one degree or the other. I’d never brought up Zoey’s death when I’d been in counseling the nights I was trapped in the cottage; it was so engrained in me not to speak of her death or do anything out of line.
Allowing a bruise to be on display wasn’t that ground-breaking an act of rebellion in general, but it was a step in the right direction to my feeling free. In my family, it would be a tiny signal that I wouldn’t be subject to their crazy rules.
Sighing, I sank down on the edge of my bed. It was ridiculous that I had to think this way. It was just a bruise; nobody would care if I had one. Sure, I might get a few questions if anyone looked close enough and saw the distinct tooth marks.
But to my parents, it was everything. It would signal failure. A pang of guilt clutched my heart, knowing how hurt my mother would be. She would know right away that I was done upholding her carefully constructed family image.
But Zoey was dead and gone and anyone with a lick of sense knew it wasn’t my parents’ fault we lost her on that fateful day.
One would think, with my new independent streak, I would’ve driven myself to the benefit dinner. Instead, I’d accepted the ride with my parents. It was easier and it provided me with a fail-safe since I tended to drink the champagne at most of these events. It also sent the clear message that my family didn’t drink and drive.
The dim lighting inside the vehicle hid the marks by my collarbone and I relaxed. It was enough I knew it was there, and I wasn’t looking for a fight.
One was brought to me, regardless.
“Have you met Senator White?” My mother asked.
I groaned inwardly, thinking of the slimy, leering middle-aged politician. “I have, mom.”
“I’ve arranged for you to sit next to him at our table.”
Visions of his wandering hand entered my mind. “No, I made my own arrangements already.”
Puzzled, she asked, “What do you mean?” My father flicked a glance at me before returning to scrolling his email on his phone.
“I mean I won’t sit next to that groping pig of a man and I’m meeting friends.”
My mother gasped. “He’s a nice man, you shouldn’t say such things.”
Tugging at a strand of my hair, I said, “Mom. He’s ‘handsy’, and old enough to be my grandfather.”
“Handsy,” my mom repeated. “Okay.” She didn’t look like she believed me.
“Please stop trying to set me up with people. You met dad at a coffee shop, you never know when or where I’ll meet someone.” There was no way I’d ever tell them I fell in love with my jailer. I had to stop myself from snickering out loud. I didn’t have the romantic meet-cute moment like my parents did, tripping over each other. No, I had to have a meet-horror where a man who claimed to be the devil imprisoned me in a vintage-style cottage in an alternate universe and could make me cum just by looking at me.
Can’t win them all, I guess.
My mother smiled lovingly at my dad, but his head was buried in his phone. “I just want what's best for you, Samantha.”
“I know mom, I appreciate you. Please do me a favor and stop trying to set me up, though. Please.” I paused for several seconds. “On second thought, don’t set anyone up with Senator White. Trust me on this. And I’m much too old for your interference in my love life.” There’d been too many evenings where me or someone else found his wandering hand traveling up their thigh under a table. It was disgusting.
“You seem pretty serious about this,” my mom remarked.
“That’s because I am. Just trust me on this. All of this.” I was expecting more of a backlash, but it never came.
The car pulled up to the estate where the benefit dinner was taking place. I wasn’t even sure what the dinner was supposed to benefit, never having looked over the details my mother sent me, but there were a lot of cars. It must be an important one. Most of the faces I saw getting out of cars and entering the large estate were familiar, people I’d mingled with or knew personally. I followed my mom and dad inside.
The building felt more like a castle indoors, than a mansion, with the soft cream and beige colors and curved molding. Elaborate lighting hung overhead, full of crystals and gleaming gold. Priceless artwork lined the walls, likely worth millions. There was no sign of who the dinner was meant to aid, but I
wasn’t surprised. We wouldn’t want to mess up the decor with gaudy pamphlets and posters, would we? My snarky attitude would get the better of me if I wasn’t careful, but it sure did feel good.
My parents were separated from me by some friends of theirs and I wandered farther into the building, crossing the foyer. When I spotted Caroline and Helen, I headed toward them.
“Hi,” Caroline greeted me.
“Hey,” I replied, smiling at her and then Helen.
“Did you hear about Julia?” Helen leaned in.
She had my attention; I remembered Julia’s tryst with the handsome stranger. “No, what happened? Is she all right?”
Helen nodded. “She is but Clint caught her with that man with the scar, Ilya. He’s here somewhere.”
I winced. “Oh no. What happened? Did they break up?”
“No but I guess Clint came home early and found them in bed. Ilya messed him up pretty badly, but nothing happened. Some hot shot lawyer got him off. They’re still getting married.” Helen laughed.
“You look stunned,” Helen said to me.
Grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing tray, I said, “Well, whatever works for them.” It was a lot to take in, but I really wasn’t that surprised. The newcomers in town appeared to not have to face any consequences, between Ramone's murderous proclivities and his friend’s back-alley ways.
After John’s and Timothy’s unfortunate fates, I didn’t have to ask Ramone if he was responsible for the waiter’s death outside the restaurant that my mother and I had stumbled upon that day. It was a foregone conclusion.
“So true. I wouldn’t kick him out of my bed,” Caroline said before turning to me. “Where’s Ramone? Anything come of that?”
“We’ll see,” I answered noncommittally. “What have you two been doing lately?” I wasn’t going to give them anything to gossip over.
Helen leaned forward. “Is that a bite mark?” She pointed at my chest and Caroline leaned in, her eyes almost bugging out of her head.
“Maybe?” I smirked.
“Oh my god,” Helen hissed. “It is. Why didn’t you cover that up?” Her expression was both disapproving and envious.
Taking a sip of my beverage, I said, “I just didn’t get around to it.”
Caroline narrowed her eyes at me. “Hm.”
“Are you into that BDSM stuff?” Helen asked, tilting her head.
“What? No, why would you ask that question?” Now, everyone was going to think I was into it. Maybe I should’ve covered it up, but it was too late now.
Caroline shrugged her shoulders. “I just want to know who you’re seeing.”
I tossed back the rest of my champagne. “I’m going to go mingle.” Caroline and Helen exchanged glances as I made my exit.
Passing through the hall, I made my way to a much larger room where tables were spread out with elaborate settings. Floral arrangements, greenery, and candles of varying sizes decorated the tables in a gorgeous display. Twinkle lights were wound through the greenery and small linen bags full of swag were set at each place setting.
People milled between the tables while I took it all in. My eyes lifted when I felt an electrical thrill course through me. Ramone was several tables away, his eyes lit on me, a small smile on his lips. He was standing with the scarred man my friends called Ilya, and a few others. People passed between us, blocking my view, but not severing the connection. My heart thudded in my chest, and not from fear.
“I think I know who bit you,” Helen suddenly whispered in my ear.
Feeling myself flush, I repeated what I’d said before. “Maybe.” When I looked for Ramone again, he smiled slightly bigger this time before turning back to his friend.
“It's really not fair,” Caroline sighed wistfully. “We need more like him.”
“That’s a terrifying thought,” I remarked, looking for more champagne.
Helen cut in, “Sure, it is. I can see just how terrified you are.”
I felt his heat before I saw him, his presence a tangible force of its own. “She should be terrified,” Ramone said to Helen, curling an arm around me. “Come.”
“Where are we going?” I glanced up at him. When I looked back at Caroline, she was biting her lip, and her eyes were hooded. Ever the arrogant ass, Ramone smirked at me and led me away.
The pressure of the crowd’s eyes on us grated at me but I kept my practiced small smile on my face. Ramone was taking me over to where he was earlier, his friends still gathered there. Before we could meet up with them though, we were interrupted by Senator White.
“Samantha my dear, I can’t wait for us to catch up while we dine,” he purred, apparently ignorant of my being escorted possessively by the man at my side.
“I’m afraid there’s been a change in the seating arrangements, senator,” I replied. His oily gaze dragged over me, sending a shudder up my spine.
Senator White stared at my breasts before his interest focused on my bite mark. Ramone let out a deep growl and took a step closer to the man.
I grabbed his hand and he tried to pull away, but I held on. “No, Ramone.”
He stopped, the Senator watching us with interest. “If anyone dares to eye you the way this insect is, I will kill them. Then, I’ll paint your body with their blood and lick it from your skin.” Ramone nuzzled my neck, inhaling deeply, before staring the man down.
Mister White blanched and began backing away.
Twining my fingers with Ramone’s I said, “You can’t just go around murdering anyone who looks at me.”
“Yes, I can.” He chuckled. “Who’s gonna stop me?”
“You’re gonna get in trouble one of these days,” I stated.
He huffed. “I’m too rich to get in trouble.”