Bewitching the Beast Read online

  He swiped a hand through his hair. “Yeah, but I lost my cell phone in the sewer tonight.”

  “Come again?”

  “I was trying to call you, and I tripped.” He rubbed his temples. “How about your phone?”

  “We’ll have to wait until we get to my place. My battery’s dead.” Tess scanned the subway car. All the seats were empty except for an old guy sleeping several rows down. “Given this streak of bad luck you’re having, I don’t think we can wait to figure out this whole gem thing. We need to try the banishing again,” she whispered in case the old guy woke up.

  “No.”

  The train stopped at the Third Avenue platform. No one boarded their car.

  “Dammit, Tess, I could’ve killed your mother.”

  His words snaked through her veins.

  The ugly truth marred his face as he leaned in, his voice determined. “And if you become a serious threat . . . If you make The Beast choose between you and survival, you can be sure he’s not going to choose you, and there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it.”

  Her breath caught. There had to be some other way.

  The doors slid open at their stop. They left the train and traveled the short distance to her apartment.

  Once inside, Ethan headed for the kitchen and motioned toward the base for the cordless phone. “Where’s your telephone?”

  “Good question.” She dug out her cell phone and plugged it in. “Here, use this,” she said, handing him the cell.

  As Ethan punched in a number and waited, she tried to think back to when she’d last seen the cordless. The couch cushions. Sure enough, the stupid phone was wedged so far inside the couch, it had almost become part of the furniture. She placed it back on the base, replaced the cushions, then took a seat. What a lousy day. Her gaze strayed to the broken lamp on the floor and the little altar next to it. Gram’s box sat solidly on top. What would Gram do? Another banishing was out. Ethan would have none of it, not in his current state.

  Two empty mugs sat on the altar. The brew they’d drunk before the banishing had been nasty. Nasty, but ingenious. Her mother knew her stuff. If only she could say the same. Mom would know what to do. She’d scry for the gem.

  Not exactly her strong suit, but maybe with more chocolate syrup. The memory of Ethan’s kisses popped into her mind, the sweet smell and sticky skin. Nope, not chocolate. Maybe paint?

  She yanked off her coat and tossed it onto the couch. Ethan wore a path into the floor as he canceled his cards. She passed him and made her way to her bedroom closet. Her paints and sketch pads were where she’d left them months ago. A brand new tube of black acrylic paint—Tess brushed her thumb along its label. Matt had bought her these paints. Expensive ones too. He’d always believed in her talent. Why couldn’t she?

  Taking a deep breath, she collected a pad of paper and a brush, then set up shop on the kitchen table. She studied the napkin she’d found earlier that day. 55-3-15. What did it mean? And why had Kade left it behind?

  Tess squirted some paint onto the paper and dabbed the bristles into the lump. To clear her mind, she stared at the far wall and focused on the energy around her—Ethan’s voice, low and somber, melded with a police siren’s urgent song. The subtle scent of incense laced the pungent smell of paint.

  The solid presence of the table and chair grounded her, the floor beneath her level and firm. In one hand she held the brush, its handle straight and smooth. In the other, she clutched the napkin, slightly stiff, every movement of her fingers giving off a soft crinkle and swish. On its surface, numbers written in ink, the pressure from the pen heavy, the thoughts of the one who had written it grim.

  Tess let her hand paint what it would. No thought of time or outcome, only the energy of the world around her and the lingering essence of Kade from the napkin in her hand. Minutes flew by, maybe an hour.

  “Do you have an aspirin? I looked in the bathroom . . .” Ethan walked up to the table, breaking the spell. “Sorry.”

  Tess blinked and glanced down at the paper in front of her. The image she’d drawn was a crude dragon similar to the pictures on Dr. Meade’s study wall. Great. Not exactly what she’d hoped for.

  “What’s this?” Ethan rounded the table. His face was paler than before.

  “A dragon apparently.” Tess set down her brush. “I tried to scry and ended up drawing a sketch of one of Dr. Meade’s illustrations.”

  Ethan’s gaze sharpened as he stared at the painting. “You’re right. This is a replica, but not of anything we saw at the doctor’s house today.” He laid his trembling hand palm up next to the drawing, giving Tess a good view of the dragon she’d seen up close once before. “An exact match down to the ankh symbol on its flank.”

  Tess brushed a finger over the image on his palm, and Ethan’s breath wavered. “So I’ve drawn the dragon on your hand?” Using the tip of one finger, she traced the outline branded onto Ethan’s warm skin. Horns, rather large ears, a long neck, wings. Wait. No tail. No tail? “I’ve seen this dragon before.”

  “Where?” Ethan asked in a choked rasp.

  Her focus rose to his face. “At the gallery. Are you all right?” A light sheen of sweat glistened on his brow, and his whole body vibrated. He blinked, and glittering green eyes replaced the blue. Oh, no.

  “I need to get out of here.” Ethan rushed for the door.

  “Wait.” Tess shot out of her chair, knocking it over in her rush. Could she stop The Beast from killing again? She pressed her hands to his throat and willed the power to stop The Beast to her fingertips. “Is it working? Is The Beast’s control lessening?” Just because it didn’t work the last time, didn’t mean . . .

  “No.”

  Her mind raced. What else could she do? “Take my aura.”

  Ethan hesitated in the doorway. “What? No. You need your energy to fight Kade if he comes.”

  His green eyes chilled her, but she grabbed his arm anyway. “There’s no need to hurt someone else. You can protect me like you did before.” Despite her reasoning, her voice shook.

  Ethan jerked his arm away, and a roar erupted from his chest. “No. Not you. Never again.” He turned and raced out the door as if he could outrun the demon inside.

  Chapter 16

  Ethan stumbled down the stairwell into the empty lobby of Tess’s apartment building. Everything around him had gone blurry. Heat scorched his insides, and one thought pounded in his head like a migraine: Must feed.

  He had to get out of here before The Beast turned on Tess. Even from three floors away, her aura tempted him to his limits.

  Ethan pushed open the door and stepped out onto the sidewalk, the icy air a balm against his hot skin. His body ached for nourishment as he staggered ahead. His labored breaths and the hum of light traffic broke the silence. Never before had The Beast’s hunger become his own with such intensity. One block, then two. He moved faster. His senses reached out for the energy he sought. There. Around the corner.

  Willing his legs to stop, Ethan braced himself against a brick storefront, resisting the urge to stalk his victim. He couldn’t do this, not again.

  A powerful aura closed in behind him. Tess. Dammit, she was following him. The Beast growled low. His lust for energy surpassed his desire to protect her. With a roar, he demanded Ethan turn around and take what Tess could offer, the consequences be damned.

  No. Ethan pushed ahead, away from Tess, his heart hammering against his ribs. Not her. He rounded the corner. A man fumbled with his wallet in front of an ATM machine, and his aura glowed in a blinding white light. Ethan’s senses zeroed in on his prey. Cigarette smoke tainted the guy’s breath, and his body shivered from the cold. He stepped closer to the machine with a card in his hand. The scruff of brown hair beneath his red skullcap drew Ethan’s gaze. Mesmerized, Ethan stepped forward, and his boot
crunched through a thin layer of ice.

  The human twisted around. “Hey there. I’ll be done in a minute.”

  Jerking his face to the side, Ethan hid his eyes from view and reached for his back pocket as if going for his wallet.

  The guy turned to the machine and punched a button, then glanced over his shoulder. “You wouldn’t happen to know a convenience store that’s open.”

  Ethan shook his head and tried to pull himself together. He still had time to stop this.

  “Too bad. I have a pregnant wife craving orange sherbet and dill pickle chips. I’m going to freeze my ass off before I find a place to buy them.”

  Pregnant wife? His body tense, Ethan battled The Beast for control, resisting the powerful urge to attack. Scorching pain consumed Ethan’s body, and hunger jolted through his system.

  Feed now. The impulse to heed the command was too potent to ignore. Ethan reached out a shaking hand and touched his branded palm to the nape of the guy’s neck. Energy coursed up Ethan’s arm in pulsating waves. And with it, pleasure.

  “Hey!” His prey spun around, breaking Ethan’s hold. “What’s your deal?”

  Ethan blinked. Why hadn’t The Beast put the human into a trance? Too weak? Didn’t matter. More. He needed more energy, more pleasure. Using The Beast’s strength, he seized his prey’s shoulder and slammed him face first against the ATM.

  Jabbing an elbow back, the human fought his hold.

  Ethan easily held him in place, leaning his weight into the thrashing body, and returned his palm to the spot it needed to be. Exhilaration shimmered through him as energy flowed into his hand and up his arm.

  Shrieking in agony, his victim kicked out, smashing his snow-covered boot into Ethan’s knee.

  Pain shot up his leg, and Ethan staggered. He bellowed in rage as the connection broke once more.

  His prey made a run for it, his aura a beacon.

  More energy. More pleasure. Ethan launched himself at the human, knocking him to the ground.

  “Take the money,” the human screamed. “It’s in the ATM.”

  “Money won’t help you,” Ethan rasped. He wanted only one thing. Pinning his quarry face down on the sidewalk, Ethan pressed his palm where it belonged.

  While his prey struggled, he welcomed the bone-deep warmth and the sense of bliss that rolled through his very soul. He stared up at the cloudless sky and basked in the sensation, embracing the dark within him.

  The body beneath him shuddered, and his prey’s aura drained to nothing. Ethan stood, and his chest swelled with strength and power.

  Dragging in ragged breaths, the human struggled to rise, the fear in his eyes palpable. The FDNY insignia on his jacket caught Ethan’s eye. The fireman staggered for the street on weakened legs.

  Ethan shook as the evil faded, and his sanity returned. Dazed, he peered down at his palm, the dragon image darker than before, and his stomach turned to lead. Fuck. He ground his teeth together. Looking in the direction the fireman had gone, Ethan spotted him rushing for the corner of the building.

  Maybe it wasn’t too late. He could save him. “Wait!”

  The guy glanced back and raced faster, stumbling. He disappeared around the corner.

  Ethan ran after him. This time would be different.

  A scream and a sickening crunch echoed off the building walls.

  NO! Ethan sprinted ahead. He rounded the corner and stopped in his tracks.

  The fireman lay sprawled on the pavement, a paper delivery van looming over him. Blood trickled from his temple in a long, red line, and his lifeless eyes stared straight ahead.

  ~ ~ ~

  Ethan’s apartment door gaped open, and Tess hurried down the hall and stepped inside. His leather coat lay in a messy pile on the couch while a police scanner droned in the bedroom. “Ethan?” She closed the door and headed across the living room toward the sound.

  Choking sobs rose above the steady hum of the scanner as she neared.

  “Ethan?” She picked up her pace.

  Ethan sat on his bed, facing away from her, his bare back muscular and tense. “Tess, get out of here.” His voice cracked, and his body trembled.

  Rounding the bed, she gasped and stopped short. “You’re bleeding.” Red gashes crisscrossed his right arm, blood dripping from the wounds.

  Tears dampened his cheeks, and his blue eyes glistened with anguish. “I said get out!”

  The black glove she’d come to hate lay on the floor at his feet. Her attention shot to Ethan’s left hand and traveled up his arm. In the glare of the overhead light, scales glistened like wet tar. His left hand, now a claw, clutched a blood-stained knife. “No,” she moaned. The Beast right here before her, in flesh and blood. Ethan’s flesh. Good God.

  “Do you like what you see?” Ethan snarled.

  Tess turned away and raised a shaking hand to her mouth.

  “Look at me, Tess.” Ethan stood. “See what I’ve become.”

  Her gaze lifted to his face. She couldn’t bear to look any lower.

  “I’m a fucking parasite,” he said in a broken whisper.

  Tears stung her eyes. “This isn’t you.”

  “How do you know that?” he scoffed. “You barely know me . . . I barely know me.”

  “That isn’t true.” She shook her head, praying she could say something to bring the old Ethan back. “What about those photographs on your living room wall? Photos of humanity, people helping one another. Would a beast care about humanity? Would a monster search out noble human subjects and display them?”

  “Tess, I attacked someone tonight. A firefighter. A hero. Someone who saves lives, instead of destroying them.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  Ethan stared down at his bleeding arm, his intent clear on his face—he wanted to feel the pain, to punish himself.

  “Put the knife down, Ethan.”

  He peered up at her. “I’m not who you think I am. I’m not the good guy.”

  “Shut up,” Tess snapped. “You are the good guy. I know you are, and so do you. Hell, Gram knew all along—years ago.” She squared her shoulders. “So shut up, and put the damn knife down.”

  He didn’t look convinced, but he dropped the knife onto the floor. “It doesn’t matter. The Beast will never let me do what I really want anyway.”

  Tess rushed forward. “What do you mean? What do you want to do?” The bleeding had stopped. At least it looked like it had. With so many rivulets of red trailing down his arm, she could hardly tell.

  “I’d like to end all this.” He stepped away and grabbed his shirt from the floor, wiping the blood from his arm. “To cut through my vein and bleed out right here.”

  Her breath caught. “No, Ethan.” The thought chilled her blood.

  He tossed the shirt aside. “Every time I put my blade to a vein, he keeps me from cutting deep—my knife barely scratches my skin, taunting me, reminding me of who’s really in control.”

  A sick sort of relief flooded through her. If it weren’t for The Beast, she might have been too late. “Why does he let you cut yourself at all?”

  Ethan shrugged. “I suppose he sees my suffering as a victory, the sadistic son of a bitch.” His brows drew low, and a scowl darkened his face. “I’m tired of fighting. Tired of losing.” Turning to a mirror hanging on the wall, he glared at his reflection. “Do it already, dammit. Take over.” He clasped his hand around the silver cross that hung around his neck and snapped the chain, throwing it across the room.

  “Stop it.” Panic washed over her.

  “I give up.”

  “You can’t.”

  Ethan barked a harsh laugh and turned to her. “I just killed someone. And what’s worse, I enjoyed it.”

  “You’re lying.” />
  A pained smile lifted one corner of his lips, but the misery never left his eyes. “It felt good. It felt right.” He grimaced. “The world would be better off without me.”

  “No, I don’t believe that . . . I won’t.”

  Grim determination sharpened his features. He grabbed her hand and yanked her along as he marched from the room. Half dragging her to the desk, he jerked open a drawer. He reached inside and retrieved a thick file, letting it drop onto the desk’s surface. “Here. You can’t argue with this.” He flipped open the file and picked up the first paper inside, an obituary. “These people are dead because of me. Look at them all, and tell me I deserve to live.”

  A lump rose to her throat as she stared down at the stack—newspaper clippings, funeral cards, obituaries printed from the internet, pictures from website blogs. “You went to their funerals?”

  “Some of them. Others took much longer to search out and identify.”

  “Why?” She turned away from the faces, the victims of The Beast. “Why torture yourself even more? The Beast already does that for you.”

  “Dammit, Tess. You don’t get it.” Ethan swiped his hand over the desk, sending the file to the floor. The newspaper clippings and cards scattered. “I am The Beast. We are one and the same.” His voice bordered on hysteria.

  “Stop it. That’s not true.”

  He clenched his eyes shut. “This is my destiny. Kade chose me for a reason. Maybe I’m meant to be this way.”

  “That’s it? You’re going to give up?”

  He opened his eyes and walked over to the couch. Sinking down onto a cushion, he dropped his head into his hands. “You should go.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so.” She pulled off her jacket. Frustration turned to anger as she motioned toward the papers on the floor. “You’re going to let all of these people die in vain? Let The Beast carry on until this pile doubles?”