Games Demons Play (Mystic Isle, Book 3) Read online

  Games Demons Play

  Selena Blake

  Payment of the download fee for this ebook grants the purchaser the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to download and read this file, and to maintain a private backup copy of the file for the purchaser’s personal use ONLY.

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright ©2013 Ecila Media Corp.

  Smashwords version.

  Bugatti Veyron and Bugatti Grand Sport are ™ by Bugatti Automobiles S.A.S.

  Ferrari is a ™ of Ferrari S.p.A.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, places or events is purely coincidental. Characters, events, and organizations within this work are products of the author's imagination and are used fictitiously unless otherwise stated above and do not imply endorsement.

  Dedication

  To Jessie O’Brien. Thank you for answering all my casino questions.

  Chapter One

  “Hello, Gorgeous.” Izzy Lukin trailed the edge of her index finger down the flawless black paint. The Bugatti Veyron could have been a man, she lusted for it so.

  “Who are you talking to?” Avery’s voice echoed in Izzy’s ears thanks to her iPhone’s earbuds.

  “No one,” Izzy said quickly, snatching her hand back.

  The dim light in the garage made the sleek sports car extra seductive. Like a woman… bathed in candlelight. But a woman did not come with twelve hundred horsepower. Or a body with enough contours it could have been a world-class bodybuilder. And a gleaming paint job that called to Izzy like a droplet of blood.

  Like all vamps, she was attracted to shiny, sparkling things, and the coal black car in Valencia’s garage certainly glittered. Especially since Izzy had opened the enormous garage door, letting the pale beams of light from the full moon dance through the space.

  “You're not doing what I think you're doing?” Avery asked. Avery, the raven-haired American beauty with the exotic Asian features, was fast and loose with men, but when it came to coven rules, she might as well have been a nun.

  “Of course not. I was only talking to her.” Talking. Lusting. Her being Gorgeous, the car.

  “I still think it’s crazy-sauce that V nicknames her cars,” Avery replied. As a former Olympian and sports therapist, Avery was practical. Analytical. She was not particularly fantastical. At least not in the two years Izzy had known her.

  Izzy, on the other hand, had an impulsive streak as wide as the English Channel. She loved that Valencia, cool-as-the-Siberian-winter, gave her cars names. If she were ever able to buy a car like Gorgeous, she’d give it a sexy name too.

  “She nicknames her jewels as well,” Izzy reminded, bringing up one of Avery’s favorite topics. The vampiress might be practical, but her love of fine jewelry ran deep. It was Avery who single-handedly pushed Valencia into opening a chain of jewelry stores.

  “Well, honey,” Avery drawled, “if I had stones like hers, I'd name ’em too.”

  Izzy’s thought exactly.

  “I will be back before sunup. Do not worry about me.” Turning away from the car, she clutched the collection of hangers with her left index finger and tossed the garments over her shoulder.

  “I still don't understand why you don't let the butler take care of your dry cleaning.”

  Avery didn't mind being waited on. Izzy had not gotten used to it. And besides, sometimes she just needed her space. “I like to get out of the house.” Despite the enormous mansion and surrounding land, she still got restless sometimes and needed to be out among people. It was probably because she grew up in a big city where you could not move without rubbing shoulders with your neighbor.

  Izzy glanced at the gleaming motorcycle Valencia had given her on the one-year anniversary of the night she’d been turned. Jet-black with sparks of chrome. A beast of a machine that purred between her thighs.

  But it wasn’t the Bugatti.

  Against her better judgment, she glanced back at the car and a tendril of desire snaked through her body. What would it be like to drive such a precision machine? She could almost feel the bucket seats curving around her, hugging her, cupping her ass like tight denim. Like the ultimate caress.

  Over the top of the car, Izzy spied the shadow box containing keys to all the cars in the garage. Normally, Izzy drove her motorcycle or if she needed a car, she drove Lucifer, the Mercedes. But right there for the world to see… The keys to the Bugatti dangled off the distinctive silver key ring that bore the company logo. Did she dare?

  “Do not wait up.” As she hit the button on the phone to disconnect the call she heard Avery call her name. There was no way for Avery to make it from her room to the garage in time to stop Izzy. Unless she flashed.

  Valencia would never know. She was in New York City for fashion week, Izzy reasoned with herself. She would have Gorgeous back in her stall by sun up.

  Desire drove her to the keys. She was careful with the hangers as she laid her dry cleaning in the passenger’s seat. The fine leather interior smelled divine and a surge of excitement shot through her. Sitting in a Bugatti, surrounded by the cozy-yet-sleek interior, was like coming home.

  Like finding the perfect pair of shoes. Just the right color. Just the right heel height. Just the right fit.

  The engine roared, then purred. A tremor quaked through Izzy’s body as she adjusted the mirrors. The car was ridiculously expensive. The kind of money that very few people could afford. People like her father. Like Valencia. Her fingers wrapped around the steering wheel and she felt a flush similar to an oncoming orgasm. Perfection was in the details and this automobile was worth every penny.

  Breathless, she pulled into the courtyard and flipped on the lights. It was not often that Izzy got butterflies of excitement in her stomach. Being wrapped in this glorious car was one of those times.

  Smiling, she stepped on the gas.

  The gas pedal was sensitive, just as she’d expected. It would be so easy, too easy, to release the power. To accelerate across the countryside and experience the automobile as it was meant to be driven. Full on, without restraint.

  Too easy.

  When she rolled to a stop on the outside of town she looked at the sign across the road. An invisible power urged her to let the horses beneath the hood run free. Fast and far, unbridled.

  Left to town. Right… to Germany. To the Autobahn.

  Glancing in the rearview mirror, she realized there was one more direction she could go. Back.

  Home to the mansion. Put Gorgeous away. Get in Lucifer and do the smart thing. The boring thing.

  Drive.

  Not for the first time in her life she felt helpless, powerless against the unknown pull. Drawing her away from what she knew was the smart decision. The temptation was so strong she felt like she was not really inhabiting her body. Just a passenger along for the ride.

  Drive.

  She turned right.

  Chapter Two

  A speed-limitless stretch of highway wasn’t that hard to find. Gorgeous answered every request for power and precision. Each time she shifted gears, Gorgeous threw Izzy deeper into the seat. And into love. The power was like a full body blow, but the leather seat broke her fall. Izzy lovingly stroked the steering wheel and spoke to the car in her native tongue.

  The dial on the dashboard skipped past one hundred. One-twenty. One-thirty. Gorgeous wasn’t even straining. This car had been created for this road, Izzy was sure of it. And as she accelerated, the car dropped down, clinging to the road with a finely engineered mastery. Before her the road was wide open, curving gently, beckoning.

  Deserted.

  At one-sixty-five Izzy let out a yip of pure gl
ee. She’d bet her favorite boots that Valencia had never let Gorgeous run like this.

  A pair of headlights appeared in her rearview mirror, skipped to the driver’s side mirror and then disappeared. A red flash passed her on the left and disappeared down the road.

  Frowning, she gritted her teeth and pressed the accelerator harder. The engine gave her what she wanted. More power. More speed. One-seventy. One-eighty. One-ninety. Two-fifteen. At two hundred and thirty-five kilometers an hour, she saw the taillights of the Ferrari.

  “You are mine,” she said out loud.

  Gorgeous gave another burst of speed, her tires gripping the road like she was on rails. At two-sixty, she breezed by the Ferrari. Though she doubted the driver could see, she lifted a hand and gave a little see-ya-later wave.

  The Bugatti was the fastest street-legal car in the world. Top speed of two hundred and sixty-seven miles per hour. There was something undeniably, irreplaceably sexy about being the very best. Driving the very best. Having the very best. To Izzy, that was the ultimate aphrodisiac.

  If that guy wanted a race, he was going to lose.

  She smiled when she saw his headlights in her rearview mirror again. The Ferrari crossed into the left lane and pulled up next to her. It certainly was an incredible automobile. And he was a smooth driver, she’d give him that. At least, she assumed the driver was male.

  High on the power, the speed, she pressed the gas pedal a little further. The Ferrari matched her speed. A little more. Same result. Faster still. Faster until her heart was in her throat.

  She let her foot off the gas. Gorgeous slowed. Izzy glanced at the dash. Damn. Dawn wasn’t too far away.

  “It is time to go home,” she told the car, regretting that she could not stay out all day. One day she’d be as old as Valencia and could come and go as she pleased. Maybe one day she’d be as wealthy as Valencia and could afford a car like this.

  She took the next exit, crossed over, and pointed the car toward home. If she hurried, she’d get her dry cleaning dropped off and be back in the garage with plenty of time to wipe Gorgeous down.

  It couldn’t have been more than a minute later that the red Ferrari eased up next to her again. This time the passenger window was rolled down.

  She’d been right. The driver was male. But more than that, he was big. She glanced his way again. What was it Avery called them? An uber hottie? Yes, that was it.

  This uber hottie knew how to drive. Izzy found that very sexy.

  If he was this handsome in uneven dashboard light, what would he look like across the table from her? Or better yet, in her bed?

  She didn’t have time to imagine it. Gorgeous came up on a car and Izzy steered right. The Ferrari veered left. They passed the car and met up on the other side.

  Obviously, he wasn’t in a hurry to be anywhere since he’d turned around to follow her. She reached down and pressed the button for the driver’s window. A loud bang echoed through the cab and Gorgeous jerked right. Izzy clutched the wheel. Gorgeous spun across the pavement. Then she rolled.

  Something wet was trickling into her eye.

  “Oh…” She moaned.

  “I’ve got you,” a deep, masculine voice rumbled in her ears.

  She tried to open her eyes. Her head pounded. Too much light. Was it morning already? Panic bolted through her and she struggled.

  He murmured something in German. Then, “You’re going to hurt yourself,” the voice said again. Big hands held her wrists captive.

  “Impossible,” she murmured.

  “Don’t move.”

  The words sent a fresh tendril of fear through her. Not again. No. Not again. Fear.

  Struggle. Scream. Coco’s voice echoed through her mind. Scream. Fight.

  For the briefest of seconds, Izzy took stock of her injuries. Nothing felt broken. She opened her eyes and threw her arms out at the same time, breaking the man’s hold. He tumbled backward, clutching his nose, cussing.

  Eyes wide, she sprang to her feet. She had to get to shelter. She had to get out of the sun.

  “Jesus, woman!”

  The man from the car.

  It was still dark.

  But, how—oh no. No. “No. No. No. No. No!”

  She stumbled up the hillside to where Gorgeous lay, upside down, her windshield gaping open. Bits of her lay scattered on the slope. A fender. A side mirror.

  Her lights blinded Izzy.

  She squinched her lids shut and held out a hand to further shield herself.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” A twig snapped beneath his foot as he approached. A heavy hand settled on her left shoulder. Izzy spun away from him, hissing.

  “Whoa! It’s okay, little vamp.”

  “This is not okay!”

  This was bad. So very bad. Valencia was going to kill her. She would not be surprised if the mansion had a dungeon somewhere. Valencia would lock her up for all eternity.

  “It can be fixed.”

  She started to tremble. “Fixed?” Izzy screeched, feeling more unraveled by the second.

  Valencia saved her life. Turned her. Gave her a home. Protection. Taught her the ways of the vampire. And what had Izzy done? Wrecked the most expensive car in V’s stable.

  Oh heavens. She was going to pass out. Was it possible for a vamp to pass out?

  She quickly sat before she fell. The handsome man sat next to her. She squinted at the upside-down car.

  “Do you have any idea how much it would cost to fix,” she waved her hand in the general direction of the Bugatti, “that?”

  Izzy felt lightheaded and pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead. Blood pounded in her ears.

  “Put your head between your knees,” he said, putting a hand between her shoulder blades. She wrapped her arms around her knees and let him push her forward. His palm was warm against her back, almost searing through the t-shirt material and black leather jacket.

  “Surely if you can afford a Bugatti, you can afford to fix it,” he said several moments later.

  She turned her head to the side and glared at him. It was not his fault, though. She was driving the ridiculously expensive car. She had wrecked it. “It is not my car,” she admitted and then hid her face against her forearms.

  “Whose car is it?”

  “My friend’s.”

  “Surely he’ll understand the accident wasn’t your fault. A tire blowout isn’t anyone’s fault.”

  Izzy frowned. “She,” she stressed the word, “will not understand.” Valencia would certainly not understand the invisible force pulling Izzy toward the car. The indescribable yearning. The desire that made her do things shouldn’t. Izzy didn’t understand it.

  She tipped her head the other way and stared at the car. Such engineering perfection. Ruined. Her stomach heaved.

  He rubbed her back.

  Who was this gentle giant?

  “I took it. Without asking.” She lifted her head. “I— I could not resist. She sits in the garage begging to be driven.”

  He laughed softly but she did not get the impression that he thought she was crazy. “It’s a shame to let something so beautiful sit idle.”

  She lifted her head and turned toward him again. He was staring at her, his gaze tracing over her face. She got the feeling that he was not only speaking about the car.

  There was something about his eyes that calmed her. An unusual shade of gray, almost silver. But he was definitely not a vampire. For starters, he was warm. And big. Really, really big. She hadn’t seen a single flash of fangs.

  Up close, he was sinfully handsome. The kind of man a woman dreamed about but never actually met. Thick, dark eyelashes. A perfect nose. Kissable mouth. Strong, unshaven jaw. And dark hair that brushed his shoulders, giving him the perfect bad boy appearance.

  Over the pain in her heart and thundering of her heartbeat, Izzy was aware of two things. She’d most likely just totaled Valencia’s Bugatti and the man rubbing her back was not human.

  Som
ething wet was trickling into her eye.

  “Oh,” she moaned.

  “I’ve got you,” a deep, masculine voice rumbled in her ears.

  She tried to open her eyes. Her head pounded. Too much light. Was it morning already? Panic bolted through her and she struggled.

  “You’re going to hurt yourself,” the voice said again. Big hands held her wrists captive.

  “Impossible,” she murmured.

  “Don’t move.”

  The words sent a fresh tendril of fear through her. Not again. No. Not again. Fear.

  Struggle. Scream. Coco’s voice echoed through her mind. Scream. Fight.

  For the briefest of seconds, Izzy took stock of her injuries. Nothing felt broken. She opened her eyes and threw her arms out at the same time, breaking the man’s hold. He tumbled backward, clutching his nose, cussing.

  Eyes wide, she sprang to her feet. She had to get to shelter. She had to get out of the sun.

  “Jesus, woman!”

  The man from the car. It was still dark. But, how—oh no. No. “No. No. No. No. No!”

  She stumbled up the hillside to where Gorgeous lay, upside down, her windshield gaping open. Bits of her lay scattered on the slope. A fender. A side mirror.

  Her lights blinded Izzy.

  She squinched her lids shut and held out a hand to further shield herself.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” A twig snapped beneath his foot as he approached. A heavy hand settled on her left shoulder. Izzy spun away from him, hissing.

  “Whoa! It’s okay, little vamp.”

  “This is not okay!”

  This was bad. So very bad. Valencia was going to kill her. She would not be surprised if the mansion had a dungeon somewhere. Valencia would lock her up for all eternity.

  “It can be fixed.”

  “Fixed?” Izzy screeched, feeling more unraveled by the second.