What’s Halloween without an appearance by the Devil… Or his son in this case.
Sly – Book 1
Born of Hell, will he destroy the pure heart he desires?
Sly Sathariel possesses his father’s genes, and on Earth he creates all sorts of havoc for humans, though he never takes a life. His father, Satan, reserves that power, yet not even he could keep Sly from the arms of the pure and spiritual woman representing the Tree of Life. She entangles him in her roots, pulling Sly in a direction his hellacious soul dare not follow.
Waverly Malkuth has a premonition no human should be privy to — she witnessed her own death. It’s tearing her apart, filling her with anger and thoughts of vengeance that go against the grain of everything she knows. Giving in to the malevolence growing in her heart carries her into the arms of a man who can only hurry her journey down the deadly path she follows.
Sly didn’t have the elder triplet’s power but he could hold his own. Combing minds in the room for happy thoughts, he bundled them into an icy arrow, and blasted his brother’s heart. “Not this one.” Sly sent enough joyful noise into the devil’s firstborn to attract an avalanche of ice to the godly bliss he deposited there. Cold scorched any demon, but it carried deadly pain to Satan’s sons who survived on daddy’s heat. Wicked’s red eyes flashed blue for an instant.
As if nothing had happened, Wick slouched back against the bar. You’re growing stronger. He twisted toward the bartender and ordered a drink. “Shot of Rare Breed.” The bartender returned and placed the bourbon in front of Wick, who lifted the glass and drained every drop before speaking. “Do that again, Sly, I’ll rip your cock and balls off and send them to the frozen tundra of Neptune.” Twisting back to face the woman who continued to move in their direction, he added, “She’s damn short.”
“You mean fuck her, right?”
“Are you talking to me?” Her voice was low, void of feeling.
“My brother, Sly, wants to fuck your brains out.”
“For hell’s sake, Wick.” Sly jerked toward the woman. “Forgive my brother, he’s rude.”
“Am I lying?”
Damn, Wick’s right, her ache is palpable. Makes me hungry. Slick pawed his genitals.
Enough! He didn’t need his younger brother’s two cents.
Her brown eyes carried a wretchedness humans would miss. Sly and his brothers didn’t. Her breasts rose up and down with each breath, and he couldn’t decide if it was anger or excitement. Something else rested deep in her dark pupils. Pain, utter loneliness… and fear. All three attracted creatures like him; it empowered them. Sly had no wish to draw on her emotions. Damnation. He swore silently at his thought of foregoing the use of any powers or magic on the woman.
Wick leaned over and whispered, “Sly, you’re a pussy.”
Identical triplets, the brothers were best friends and practically inseparable. Someone always had your back. The downside, someone always fucked around in your head. “Go to Hell, Wicked.” Sly peered at her and wanted nothing more than to erase those shadows from her eyes, see the true woman beneath the hard veneer she presented to the world. “He’s not lying, but I would have come to that in a much different manner.” He extended his hand. “I’m Sly Sathariel.” Pointing out his brothers, he added, “Slick’s the youngest, Wicked, the oldest.”
Her small hand was cold, and empty laughter followed the smile curving full red lips as she stared at him. “Your brother is right, why not cut to the chase? Life is far too short, right?”
Who, or what, had caused such immense anguish, left her so damn wounded? A demon would have thrived on anger, sucked it from her, leaving her broken and without memory of ever feeling good or alive. Sly envisioned tearing the motherfucker limb from limb because the bastard who did this had not at least given her the solace of forgetfulness.
It wasn’t one of us. Wick’s words concerned him, but his brother should know, as he’d left far too many shells of life in his wake. Who or what else could make a human feel so… So lost and hopeless?
“Can I buy you a drink?”
“I’ve had enough, but you can take me to your place.”
Slick pushed into his thoughts. She’s afraid to go home. If his younger brother felt it, the power must be really great. Slick possessed his brother’s abilities, but not to their degree. And the bastard was just too damn good.
Sly couldn’t take the cacophony battering his mind. Stop, both of you. Monitoring Slick and Wicked took too much energy to concentrate, and everything they said he already knew. Her soul swirled with anger. She wanted to strike out, hurt someone.
He’d be her whipping boy. “You’re sure?” Sly sniffed the air. She didn’t notice because her brown gaze was glued to the front of his slacks. His swollen dick throbbed in anticipation of filling her pussy. The blatant fury, the anger blazing toward him, excited the demon inside, pulling it damn close to the surface.
Licking her lips, she swept a stray lock of hair from her face. “No strings?”
“No strings, no bullshit.” Without turning to his brothers, Sly said, “Catch you guys later.” He took her arm and guided her to the front door.
Mom would be proud.
Go fuck yourself, Wick.
Think I’ll pay Pops a visit.
Sly went weak in the knees but caught himself by grabbing the doorjamb.
She asked, “Are you okay?”
Never had he experienced Wick this afraid of anything, and he no longer felt his brothers’ essence, nor could he enter their minds. They’d already reached the bowels of Hell. “Yeah, just tripped.” She’d shone a glimpse of genuine emotion and the air grew cold around Sly. “You never told me your name.”
“Waverly… Waverly Malkuth.”
Beautiful brown eyes gazed at him, touched his very soul. Sly exercised every ounce of control he could muster to remain still. Did she hear air expel from his lungs? If her surname was to be believed, he was exiting the bar with an integral part of the Tree of Life — and somehow, she didn’t know.
Growl and roar-it’s okay to let the beast out. –J. Hali Steele