Phantasma (Wicked Games, #1)

by Kaylie Smith

To those who’ve had to claw their way out of the dark and still choose to be a light in this world⁠— I’m proud of you.

“Who in the unholy fuck is knocking on peoples’ doors this early in the morning?

“Call her a name one more time,” he threatened, his tone bored but his eyes alight with mischief. “I dare you.” Cade gawked at the sight of Blackwell’s tall frame, but his expression quickly soured as he spat, “Incredible, even Demons have whores⁠—” Blackwell grabbed Cade’s wrist and twisted his arm until he screeched in agony. “Incredible,” Blackwell echoed. “The audacity of men worth less than dirt.”

He leaned down until their eyes were level. “Hearts with teeth.” He reached out and gently gripped her chin in his hand, rubbing the pad of his thumb across her full, bottom lip. She was frozen in place. “C’mon, angel, show me your teeth.”

A shame, too. I feel robbed of my first time laying eyes on you.”

She buried her face into the crook of his throat. “You came.” “You called,” he answered.

“You are such a thorn in my side.” She glowered. “Honestly, I’m surprised you got my corset off so easily in the first place.” He leaned in close enough that the tips of their noses nearly touched as he spoke. “There’s no article of clothing I don’t know how to take off efficiently.”

“Exquisite,” he remarked as his eyes roamed over her bare body.

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about,” he vowed. “Next time your mind tries to convince you otherwise, remember this: there is nothing about you that I find undesirable. Okay?”

“I want to know everything. I want to see all the darkest corners of your mind.” He tilted his face up to whisper his next words right into her ear. “I want to taste your sins.”

With Blackwell, he’d made it clear there was nothing she felt like she needed to hide. He’d seen some of the worst parts of her already, and by the end of this, she was sure he’d see it all. The woman. The Necromancer. The monster.

“You can do anything you want, angel,” he inserted, voice gruff. “I’d let you drag me to the depths of Hell right now if that would please you.”

She had always adored the way he spoke her name. Like a wicked prayer.

to watch. As evenly as she could, she asked, “You’re leaving?” He glanced at her as he bent to swipe his shirt from where it had been haphazardly discarded on the floor. “Do you want me to stay?” A beat. She felt strangely more vulnerable in this moment than she had during their throes of passion, but she swallowed and whispered, “Yes.” “Then, I’ll stay,” he avowed.

She trailed her finger down his cheek. “You have pretty eyes.” He reached out and cupped her face, brushing his thumb across the apple of her own cheek. “So do you.”

The problem with secrets was that they festered and tore open wounds that were starting to scab.

“Men are always useless,”

You only ever want me after near-death experiences.” “So?” He leaned down until their eyes were level. “So, maybe I don’t want to just be a distraction to you.”

I want you.” “Then you’ll have me,” he told her,

“I think you might be the closest to heaven I’ll ever get,” he whispered.

Blackwell was the one to speak first. “I feel less alone with you, too.”

“If there were ever a divine entity I’d worship,” he murmured, “it’d be you.”

“In a different life, in a fair one, I would’ve kept you until my eternal soul withered away to dust,” he vowed to her.