Kingdom of the Wicked (Kingdom of the Wicked, #1)(21)

“By earth, blood, and bone. I invite thee. Come, enter this realm of man. Join me. Bound in this circle, until I send thee home. Aevitas ligati in aeternus protego.”

I held completely still, waiting. For the earth to crack, the gates of Hell to snap open, hordes of witch hunters to rush me, or my heart to stop. Nothing happened. I was about to start chanting again when it began. Smoke swirled around the circle’s edge like it had been trapped in a jar, never crossing into the rest of the cave. It pulsed with energy; almost lovingly caressed my hand. I dropped the dagger and yanked my arm back, hugging it to me until the sensation ceased.

I couldn’t believe what was happening. A stronger wave of darkness shifted around the circle, obliterating the inside of it completely from view. Black, glittering light emerged from the center. I could hardly breathe. A sound like a crackling fire in winter preceded the demon’s arrival. I’d done it. I’d actually summoned a creature from Hell! If I didn’t pass out from the shock, it would be a true success. I waited, heart hammering, for the smoke to clear.

As if answering my unspoken wish, a phantom breeze carried it away, revealing a tall, dark-haired man. His muscular back was to me and he wore only low-slung black pants. He wasn’t at all what I expected from a lesser demon. Golden skin glistened in the candlelight, the smooth perfection broken only by an assortment of shimmering ink. His beauty was an affront to what evil ought to look like. I supposed I should be thankful he didn’t have a serpent tail or wicked horns.

The demon rotated in place like he was getting acclimated to his new location. His chest and torso were chiseled in a way that indicated he was well-acquainted with weapons. My attention dropped to a metallic gold tattoo that started on top of his right hand, and coiled up and around his arm and shoulder. A fearsome snake. I didn’t have time to catalogue its details because he was now fully facing me. I sucked in a sharp breath as I finally met his gaze. Dark gold irises with flecks of black stared back at me.

Beautiful. Rare. And lethal. Even though Nonna claimed their eyes were tinged red, I knew in the very marrow of my bones what he was.

“Impossible,” I whispered.

He raised a brow. His expression was so human, I forgot, for a second, how he’d arrived in this cave. He shouldn’t exist. Yet there he was defying all of my expectations. Tall, dark, and quietly seething. I couldn’t drag my attention from him, worried he was either a figment of my imagination, or proof of madness. I’d used the dark arts. Maybe this temporary delusion was my price.

It was much easier to think that was true, rather than accept I’d done the impossible—I’d bound one of the Wicked to this realm. Which was very, very bad.

He was human looking enough, but was the physical embodiment of a nightmare.

Blood drinking, soul stealing, immortal creature of the night. I fought the urge to jump away from the circle and held his gaze instead. A storm raged within those eyes. It was like standing on the edge of a darkened shore, watching lightning dance closer across the sea. A lick of fear trailed down my spine as he defiantly stared back. I had never been more grateful that I’d also bound him to protect. Instinctually I reached up and held my cornicello for comfort.

He looked ready to—sweet goddess of fury. His luccicare was black and gold. I’d only ever seen that once before. Recognition slammed into me, and I immediately dropped my cornicello and snatched my dagger from the floor. His dagger.

The hilt was as cool as the icy rage now rushing through my veins.

“I’m going to kill you,” I snarled, then lunged for him.





Ten

Bones scattered as I attacked. The blade arced down, slicing a long, thin line across his hard chest. It should have pierced his heart. And it would have, if he hadn’t maneuvered back so swiftly. A strange, searing pain erupted under my skin. I didn’t want to consider what it meant—that maybe the mixture of our blood on the strange blade created a charm of its own. Or maybe the protection incantation also prevented me from striking him with a killing blow.

He yanked the dagger away with ease and tossed it on the ground.

I balled my hand into a fist and aimed for his center. It was like hitting a rock wall.

The demon stood there, allowing my assault to continue. While I exhausted myself with kicks and punches, he calmly looked around the chamber, enraging me more with his nonchalance. The demon didn’t seem too worried, and I wondered how many times he’d been summoned and subsequently attacked. He studied the circle and his attention jerked down toward me, immediately narrowing in on the fresh cut on my arm. A slow frown formed before he hid it.

“Why. Won’t. You. Bleed? Monster!” I was feral as I kicked and punched. My hatred and wrath so strong I almost got drunk on the intensity of it.

I glanced up in time to see him close his eyes, like he was enjoying those dark feelings, too. Nonna said demons pulled emotions to them, allowing them to wriggle and writhe around theirs. From the expression on his face, I was beginning to think that was true.

Disgusted, I stopped punching him and took a moment to catch my breath and regroup. Blood slipped down my arm and dripped to the ground. It wasn’t his, though. It was from the cut I’d made to summon him. I didn’t care if I bled myself dry if I took him to Hell with me.

“Bit of advice, witch. Yelling, ‘I’m going to kill you’ takes the surprise out of the attack.” He grunted as I landed a swift blow to his stomach. My punches were slowing and he didn’t look any worse for the wear. “You won’t succeed in killing me, but it would be a vast improvement in skill.”