DANCE WITH THE DEVIL

A WORK IN PROGRESS

By Lisa Shannon

When the Devil wants a woman's soul, he must first steal her heart.

Excerpt:

The fine mist turned into light rain that quickly plastered Kinesha's thin nightgown to her body. Groping for the iron balcony railing, she backed away from Diablo as the moon disapppeared behind a cloud. It took the stars with it, leaving them in inky blackness

“Nothing is impossible if you want it enough.” Diablo's voice was a deeply hypnotic rumble. “You could have anything you want, My Love. Anything. Any wish, any desire. I will do everything in my power to make it come true for you. All you have to do is trust me.”

"I can't. I hardly know you." She was torn between staying and fleeing back to her own room. She'd been shocked to find he had the room next to hers in the ancient hotel. Even more so to discover their rooms shared a common balcony. This man was exciting, but something told her he was also dangerous. And she was foolhardy--telling this stranger about her inner-most desires.

“This is inevitable, Kinesha. Don’t be afraid, and don’t fight me.”

“It's not inevitable," she said, not entirely certain what he was talking about, not certain she wanted to find out. "I have a choice.” It seemed strange, talking to someone she couldn’t see. "I do."

“You chose when you came here, lovely lady," he said. "How do you think La Isla de Angeles Deshonrados got its name?”

“I don’t know. I don't even know what it means." Her travel agent had enticed her to come here for the Fiesta de la Musica de la Noche--The Fesival of the Music of the Night. The island, in the Bay of Biscay, with its Spanish and Portuguese heritage, had looked exotic and exciting in the brochures. Pictures of historic stone buildings on cliffs jutting over a brilliant blue sea had spoken to her love of history. Couples holding hands on white beaches tugged at her heart. How could she have resisted?

Diablo's hand stroked her hair, sliding down her cheek and over her shoulder. “This is the Island of Fallen Angels," he murmured.

As soon as he withdrew his touch, she wondered if she’d imagined it. “B-but, I’m no angel, and I certainly haven’t fallen.”

“I’ve fallen,” he whispered.

She was surprised to feel his breath on her mouth.

"Fallen for your beauty, your charm,” he continued. “You’ve cast a spell on me.” With that, his mouth claimed hers.

Kinesha swore she could feel his soul wrap around her own and take possession of it. She gave herself up to Diablo, unable to care that she was indeed about to fall. Her heart surged with a sense of destiny. It had been lonely, seeking another to make it whole. Was he the one--the second half of her? Perhaps he was right. Perhaps this was inevitable--whatever it was. With a sigh, she melted into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck as he swept her up into his arms and carried her through the balcony doors.

His room was lit only by glowing embers in the fireplace. It was a dark kaleidoscope of wine-colored silk and lush green brocade. The room stroked her senses like a velvet glove and made her want to run her hands over everything. This was nothing like her tidy, neutral room.

Diablo set her in front of the fireplace. Kinesha's toes dug into a rich-textured, ancient, oriental carpet. “This is your home, isn’t it?” she asked.

“One of many.”

“It’s wonderful. A little frightening, maybe.” She crossed her arms, hugging her shivering body.”

“How so?”

She scanned the black candle over his fireplace. An ivory sculpture of a flower unfolding stood next to it. It seemed to glow from within and reminded her of a Georgia O’Keefe painting she’d once admired. The bed was turned down, exposing buttery satin sheets in slight disarray. The fire gave their folds and wrinkles an appearance of slithering flames.

A mural was painted above his weathered iron headboard, a naked man and woman chained to each other, their expressions frozen in ecstasy. They were surrounded by demons and nymphs. Kinesha wanted to stare but was embarrassed. She dropped her gaze. “It’s very, ummm--”

“Decadent?”

She nodded. “Why do you live in a hotel?”

“I don’t spend much time here.” His voice deepened and slowed, his accent became more pronounced and guttural. “But when I do, it serves its purpose.”

Kinesha danced her fingers over a tiny, pearl-encrusted box that sat on his Jacobean dresser. In the mirror’s reflection she noticed his eyes had narrowed and focused on her.

He flicked his tongue over the bottom edge of his teeth.

“What purpose?” she asked.

“You might call it a vacation home.” He smiled, but there was no hint of amusement in his tone. His gaze dropped from her face to her feet in a long, slow slide. “Why don’t you get out of that wet thing?”

She shivered again, hugging herself tighter. “I--I’m okay.”

“Not ready yet?” He dragged his tongue across her shoulder where the gown had slipped, exposing bare skin.

She watched in the mirror as he licked up the side of her neck, giving her a kiss beneath her ear, like the one she was ashamed to remember she’d expected from the man who’d spilled his drink on her in the nightclub. 

His tongue was hot and wet. His kiss pebbled every inch of her skin. Kinesha’s knees almost buckled from the snap of excitement that came and left like a streak of lightening.

“No, I can sense you are not ready, yet," he whispered. He turned her to face him and leaned close. "I have all the time in the world.”

The ridge of his dresser pressed against the small of her back. This time her shivers weren’t caused by cold.

“You have nothing to fear from me, Kinesha. I promise to do nothing to you that you don’t want. All you have to do is say, ‘No.’. If I believe you, I will cease to bother you.” He rocked against her, then straightened and backed away. “I have something for you. A gift beyond gifts.”

“What kind of gift?" she asked.

“Knowledge.”

“Knowledge of what?”

“Of yourself. Of me.”

“I’m afraid.”

“Aaah, Sweetheart. I should be afraid of you.”

“What? Me? Why?”

“You do things to me I’m powerless to fight. You make me feel things I cannot control.”

“You’re making fun of me.” She blinked against sudden tears. There was nothing about her that would appeal to a man like him. She was boring and ordinary, definitely not the type to set any man's heart afire.

“No, Carissama. I would never make fun of you. You have a power over me. Let me show you.”

He took her hand, guiding it inside his shirt, dragging her palm against his stone-like nipples. She stroked his chest, marveling at the hills and valley of his hard torso. Tiny shocks zapped her hands leaving them hot and trembling.

“Curious?” he asked.

“Yes.” She withdrew her hand. “But I’m still afraid. I think I’d better go back to my room.”

“I‘m not keeping you here. If you want to leave, you may. But first . . .” He picked up the pearl-covered box. “These are for you.”

Kinesha gasped as he snapped the lid. There, nestled like two perfect stars, were sinfully gorgeous diamond stud earrings, at least three carats each. The jewels absorbed light from the now-evident moon, the stars, the candle on his mantle, and shot it back from their fiery centers, splashing shards of gold across the midnight velvet box.

“They are flawless, just like yourself.”

Kinesha licked her lips. A greed like suffocation stole her breath. They were the most beautiful jewels she’d ever seen, and she was starved for beauty.

“Here,” he said, taking one stud from the box and dropping it into her waiting palm.

It burned like ice. “My--my ears aren’t pierced,” she stuttered.

“No problem.” He chucked her under the chin until she drew her attention from the earring to his face. “There is always a price to pay, Kinesha.” His mouth slowly curled up on one side, exposing his strong white teeth. “How badly do you want them?”

“I want them.” Her voice was firm and unwavering.

“So you learn something about yourself, My Sweet,” he murmured. Taking the stud from the box, he popped it into his mouth. He lifted Kinesha onto his dresser, the huge baroque mirror at her back. “Relax. Don’t fight me.” He spoke around the earring clenched between his teeth. “Don’t move and don’t make a sound or I’ll take them back.”

Kinesha’s heart slammed so hard she felt every pressure point on her body. His hands on her knees forced her legs apart until she gave in and tried to relax her quivering thighs.

He stepped between them and leaned into her, pressing hard.

Desire blossomed with insidious tendrils as she twisted her head away from the heat in his eyes. His hands trapped hers on the smooth wood behind her.

He sucked her earlobe into the furnace of his mouth.

Kinesha felt everything in exquisite detail: his tongue maneuvering the earring until the sharp shaft stabbed at the tender center of her lobe; his breath shooting heat down her neck.

Saliva dripped on her jaw, scalding her with passion. She was ready. Ready to have him assault her waiting body with a quick, ripping jab.

It wasn’t to be. The bite of his teeth and suction of his mouth held her in place while his tongue slowly, slowly pushed the sharp point of the diamond stud against her ear. His hips pressed her inner thighs, mimicking his tongue as he pressed the earring shaft against her lobe, then sucked it away. The uncomfortable prod and retreat had her muscles jumping with the need to be done with it.

He pushed the shaft into her in minute increments that made her want to scream in frustration. But she wanted those earrings. She involuntarily tightened her abdomen against the slow invasion. She held still and gritted her teeth, becoming aware of a high keening sound she was sure was coming from her.

The shaft of the earring suddenly pierced her skin with a pop. The electric shock she felt became a blowtorch as the metal passed through her flesh and out the other side. Kinesha sucked in a full breath and released it in a series of short, choppy pants. Her body quaked from the assault. It burned and throbbed with pain and promise.

Diablo arched away so his piercing eyes could stab her thoughts like he’d stabbed her body. A thin trickle of blood leaked from the corner of his mouth.