Phantasma (Wicked Games, #1)

by Kaylie Smith

There were two golden rules their mother had taught them about roaming New Orleans after dark: the first was that if the dark looks at you, you never look back. That was a surefire way to be caught by a Devil.

The second rule was that if you did break the first, never ever make any deals with a Devil. Not unless you wanted to lose your soul.

Ophelia couldn’t help but wonder if she was wildly unprepared to assimilate into normal society without their mother as her guide. Death she was familiar with. Living would be the real challenge.

Ophelia had lain awake well into the witching hours—the time between midnight and four in the morning when the veil between the mortal world and the Other Side was the thinnest—after

Souls that are dead cannot cross roses of red,

Ophelia didn’t know why, but she wanted to answer them, to tell her name to someone—or maybe something—new. Someone paying attention to her, making her heart race just as she liked to fantasize about. But she didn’t dare answer. This wasn’t a fantasy. No, this was very real. And she knew in certain places, to certain kinds of beings, names held too much power to freely give them away.

“The dark is for people who are too cowardly to face their actions in the light,”

“Go home,” the stranger advised. “A house of Devils is no place for an angel like you.”

“A heart and a key would set me free,” it said. “But you should hope we do not meet again, angel.”

“Only those who are non-corporeal, or Devils, should be able to access the Whispering Gate,”

“Ophelia,” he repeated, tasting every syllable. Her name on his tongue sounded like a wicked prayer. “You are exactly the person I’ve been waiting for.”

“Angel, you have not seen even a modicum of what I am capable of,” the handsome, green-eyed bastard whispered in her ear as he pinned her back against the wall with a hand at her waist. “I could make you utter things you never thought you’d possess the will to say just to get a taste of what I have to offer…” His tongue flicked out to lick the pulse throbbing at the side of her throat to emphasize his point. She hated the way her body arched into him, of its own volition, as it searched for the friction it craved. He kept his grip on her waist as he slid his other hand into her hair and angled her mouth up to his. She made a sound of breathy pleasure when he bit down on her bottom lip, hard. Her hips began to writhe forward, into the hardness she could feel growing at the front of his trousers, and his hand at her waist began to slide down, ripping away the skirts of her dress to⁠—

“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—”

“Incredible,” Blackwell echoed. “The audacity of men worth less than dirt.”

“You’re going to be such trouble,”

Her eyes flicked down to his mouth, and like her brief lapse of control in the bathtub the night before, she wondered what it would be like to kiss him. Would he taste like the notes of vanilla and tobacco that lingered in the air around him? Would his ghostly nature make it feel cold?

“This is real,” he promised. “I’m real. I’m sorry the illusion used my likeness to trick you. I need you to know if you were to ever let me touch you, in any way, the moment you wanted to stop—I would. No hesitation.”

She desperately wanted to feel passion, even if it was only for a moment.

“That was… Does it always feel like that?” His brows shot up. “Have you never⁠—” “I’ve had a lover,” she interrupted before he could jump to any conclusions. “But he never made me do that.”

“Then he was useless and a waste of your time,”

The material was luxurious and soft against her skin and, best of all, it smelled like him. Vanilla and tobacco. It was becoming oddly comforting.

“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?”

“Ophelia.” His tone was firm now. “You don’t need to fix yourself. You’re not broken. But it’s okay to get outside help if it gets too loud.”

“After everything that just happened, Hell, I just want to feel good again.” The intensity in his eyes heated at her words. “And what would make you feel good right now, angel?”

“C’mon, angel. Tell me what I can do to make you feel good. I’m at your service after all.”

“I want you to let me see you.” His mouth began tracing up her jawline, languidly, torturously. His words tickling her skin. “All of you. There is nothing I have seen yet that has made me look away. No atrocity you could commit to make me not want you like this. No matter how forbidden.” He seared a kiss into the sensitive spot at the end of his trail. “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.”

“You taste like heaven,”

Haha!!! I would have said the same thing!

“You’re so beautiful. It’s quite irritating.” “I know,” he said wryly.

“You’re…”—he rubbed a hand over his mouth in wonder—“stunning. Angelic.”

The impressive length was considerably more than she had realized the previous night when she had ground herself to a climax against him. Part of her worried that what she was about to try wouldn’t work. She reached out, tentative, and wrapped her fist around his shaft—her hand too small to encircle it fully—then gave the hard length a single stroke.

“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.”

He broke their kiss and pulled back just enough to read her face in the dark. “Tell me you want this.” “I want this,” she swore, breathless. “Very much.” He sighed in relief and rocked his hips forward, sheathing himself inside of her, all the way to the hilt. The way he stretched her was sinful, euphoric. He was so deep she swore she could feel him in her soul. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as he pulled out, slowly, before rocking forward in another languid movement. She twisted her fists into the comforter at her sides as she rode out each wave of pleasure. She didn’t know it could be like this—Hell, if only she had. She wouldn’t have wasted time with anything less. And now she understood why some people sold their souls to experience even a fraction of this feeling. The feeling that she’d never be able to get enough, that she needed more or she might explode, overwhelmed her. Every thrust of his hips and she saw the stars. So clear in her mind, she had forgotten how much she missed them these past few nights until now.

“Blackwell,” she whimpered, her body beginning to tighten beneath his. “More. More. More.” “You can have everything, angel.” He leaned his forehead down against hers as he pumped into her, harder, faster, driving them both wild with each stroke. She moaned as she lifted her hips off the bed and met his next thrust with her own. Sweat beaded at her temples as she finally unraveled. Completely undone. When she began to float back down to earth, he flipped their position in one fluid motion, fixing her to straddle him once again. She leaned forward to balance her weight against his chest. His cock had slipped halfway out when they moved and yet she somehow felt it was even deeper than before. Biting her lip, she slowly slid herself all the way down onto his shaft, taking him completely despite the more intense angle, whimpering when their bodies became flush together. Blackwell reached up to gather her hair out of her face, pushing her long curls over her shoulders so he could see her fully. She couldn’t help blushing as she met his gaze and slowly rolled her hips forward before grinding them back down again. Over and over again

she moved up and down his cock, his hands coming up to grip her waist and guide her into a smooth, steady rhythm. Teaching her how to ride him perfectly. This time, when she began climbing back to that place of ecstasy, she could tell he was climbing with her. Rocking all the way forward, until only the tip of him remained inside her, she slammed herself back down a second later, eliciting a noise from him that wasn’t entirely human. “You’re such a good fucking girl,” he growled as she shifted forward again, moving one of his hands between their bodies to rub his thumb over her clit. “Come for me again, angel.” “Blackwell,” she whimpered as his thumb rubbed faster and faster between her legs, sending every nerve in her body into a lust-filled frenzy. “Fuck me,” he told her. “Harder, angel.” She ground atop him even harder, until the ...

Ophelia began moving against him again, and his brows shot up in utter shock. He quickly recovered and a devious smile slowly curled up at the corners of his mouth at her boldness. “Are you sure?” She shrugged and repeated his own words from earlier. “It’s only blood.” He hummed in approval and twisted his hands into her damp hair, angling her face down just enough for him to meet her in a rapturous kiss. It didn’t take long for them to return to their previous pace, their blood-slicked skin making their bodies slide together in a way that was utterly sinful. The storm came

down stronger and stronger with each passing second, building to a crescendo at the same time that they were building to their own, and this time, when she reached the edge, he crashed over it with her. Not even the thunder overhead could drown out the sound of his name being wrought from her lips.

“I am not your angel, but I will be your nightmare. If you sabotage my chance of getting my sister back, I will find a way to haunt you until every single one of your inner demons looks like me. You will never know a moment of peace again.”

“Gabriel White is your father.”

What?!?

“Your father was a Specter,”

But he could shift himself in and out of visibility and pass through solid objects and walls if he chose. Specters are incredibly rare beings, and I suspect that if he met your mother during his first experience with Phantasma… well, it doesn’t surprise me that two paranormal beings might find a connection with each other.”

“Ophelia,” he grunted. “Fuck, angel, I never want to be anywhere else but right here. Inside you.”

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

“You’re right, we won’t,” he said, tone solemn as he gripped her wrists and gently pried her hands from his coat. “When Jasper revealed what happened to your parents, when you said we were repeating history, I realized you were right in asking for space. There can be no ‘we’. We’ve been flirting with danger a little too much. It’s my turn to try and be the responsible one.”

“Excuse me for thinking that maybe all the times you were in my bed—my body—would make you regard me differently despite what you said then. We tried the space thing. It didn’t work. Because we find each other, remember? That’s what you said.”

She gave a humorless laugh. “Oh, this is rich. You know, the hot and cold thing is really wearing thin. You made the decision to stop flirting with danger. I, however, made no such decision. I will do as I please.”

“Not with him. He will never touch you again.”

“And why not?” she exclaimed, chest heaving with her anger. “You won’t be touching me ever again,...

“I can’t stand it,” he told her, his voice deepening as he fought for control of his emotions. “I can’t fucking stand the thought of him—of anyone—pleasuring you except me. I’d rather cease to exist than know you’ve looked at anyone else the way you look at me when I’m touching you.”