Demonic Revenge, part one #StayingHome #RomFantasy #BadGirl

Surveying the chaos, Rémy des Quatre-Frères cringed at the cacophony assaulting his ears. It wasn’t so much the strangely dressed crowd or the general frivolity that tortured his sensitive lupine hearing, but the electronic noise les étrangers considered music. As if.

A large red banner bore the words: Welcome to Alpha-con! Meet and greet tonight 8pm. There were hundreds of women of all types milling about. Ordinarily, this would please Rémy to no end, but judging by the tone of the message he had received, this was no ordinary night. What exactly was an “Alpha-con” and why, in the name of the Gods, had his écrivaine summoned him here?

Conventioners thronged to what les étrangers called a “dance floor” and a scantily clad troupe of half-naked men gyrated in the most alarming manner. So appalled was Rémy by the spectacle he couldn’t force himself to look away.

But then he spotted her.

“Excuse me, pardon me.” Bustling his way through the crowd, he struggled to part the sea of bodies.

“Why aren’t you performing, cupcake?” One of the human women rubbed against him, laying her hand on his cock.

“Madame, I assure you I would not be caught dead in an outfit such as that.” He removed the offending appendage, motioning to the tiny scraps of fabric that hardly covered the male dancers privates.

Finally reaching Cindy’s side, he pressed his lips to her ear. “I trust you have a good reason to call me to this den of iniquity.”

“Rémy.” Relief washed over her strained expression. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

Taking him by the hand, she offered no explanation. Once she’d led him to a quiet hallway near the hotel kitchen, she threw her arms around him. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

Whatever had come to pass, his lovely writer shook from head to toe. Wrapping his arms around her, he made comforting sounds.

When her trembling lessened, he released her and asked, “Qu’est-ce qui se passé?”

“I didn’t know how to explain it in my message, but she’s missing. Vanished without a trace except for…well, you’ll just have to see it to understand.”

“Cindy―” he squeezed her hand, halting her frantic march toward the elevator― “who has vanished?”

She dropped her gaze to the carpet, mouth a tight, thin line, her face pale in the dim lighting. “It’s Denysé; she’s gone.”

A jolt of adrenaline coursed through his veins and he struggled to catch his breath. Throat constricted, muscles around his ribcage tense, he felt as through Cindy had hit his chest with a mace.

“Show me.”

Cindy led him to the elevator and pushed the button for the fourteenth floor. Chewing at her thumbnail, she tapped her foot as if she would will the infernal machine to move faster. Finally the doors parted with an odd dinging sound. The moment they opened, Rémy could smell brimstone and sulfur. His stomach churned, twisting in on itself.

Once she’d opened the room, the cause of her fright became apparent. A straight line punctuated with two small circles and flanked by two overlapped V’s smoldered in the center of the carpet. Despite the heat emanating from the symbol, the room was so cold Rémy could see his breath.

“Azazel.” He exhaled the name of the demon more than spoke it.

Tears in her eyes, Cindy huddled close. “I know. But why here at a writer’s convention of all places? And why Denysé?”

“I do not know, but this I promise you: Azazel will rue the day he clawed his way out of hell to prey upon my beloved.”

“Do you think she’s still alive?” Cindy’s voice cracked as she pushed out the question.

Rémy nodded. “As gruesome as it sounds, Azazel’s kills are always messy. It appears he has abducted her.”

Cocking his head to one side, he sniffed the air. Though the stench of brimstone made it nearly impos-sible to detect anything else, he picked up the faint aroma of something…no, not something, someone. The earthy scent of someone more ancient than he and definitely Old World.

“Stay behind me.” He stepped in front of Cindy, shifting to full lupine form. A black wolf with piercing blue eyes, Rémy stood ready to fight.

As if materializing from vapor, a tall, slim yet muscular figure stepped out of the shadows.

Shifting back to his human-like form, Rémy’s upper lip curled, a growl resonating in his throat. “What is he doing here?”

“I sent for him. I thought he could help,” Cindy replied.

As much as he wanted to toss the Romanian prince out a window―or gouge his eyes out with a fork―Rémy knew Cindy was right. If Azazel was indeed the enemy they faced, Rémy could use all the help he could get…even if that help came in the form of an Old World cur.
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To be continued... find the next installment here: http://boundpassion.blogspot.com/