Bedeviled - Sable Grace


Haven Monroe’s legs trembled as she looked over the black waters of the Atlantic. She couldn’t remember coming here. Couldn’t remember how her clothes had gotten soaked, or why her hair and skin felt sticky with salt water. But what worried her most was the three-pointed weapon in her hand, and why it was covered in blood.

She wasn’t bleeding. It wasn’t her blood.

This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. Over the last couple of days, her lapses in memory had grown more and more frequent.

Each time she’d tried to remember how she ended up in the strange places, she’d blacked out and had awakened somewhere new. And when she was aware of what was happening to her, her mind kept pulling forth images of a small trailer and the scent of beer and cigarettes, and the possibilities that her new strength could bring her.

Go. Do what you’ve longed to do for twenty-seven years!

But she couldn’t. A small piece of Haven clung to the knowledge that, should she listen to that evil, masculine voice that had been taunting her for days, there would be no coming back to humanity. Ever.

The thirst for revenge was so strong, she couldn’t shake free of it. Revenge on her father whose own out-of-control rage had murdered her sister so many years ago. Revenge on the world for giving up on Haven when she’d tried so hard to keep it safe.

And at the top of Haven’s list, Kyana. No longer just her closest friend, but her Sire. Kyana, a Half-Breed Vampyre/Lychen with balls of steel and a heart of concrete, had made her what she was now. Had created the beast inside her in a misplaced attempt to save her life, and Haven hated her for it. She held on to the anger that had kept her company when the voices in her head left her alone. She would rather have died than become what Kyana had made her, and yet right now, Kyana was Haven’s only hope.

She closed her eyes, wishing the smell of blood wasn’t so strong. Wishing she could block out the horrible feeling that came with the weapon in her hand. She shouldn’t even be able to touch it. But there was a god inside her. An angry, hate-filled god who wanted revenge of his own. She wanted him out of her. Now. Wanted to lose the pain of her skin stretching to encompass him, of her own soul shifting to make room.

If she could link to Kyana . . . Maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe revenge wouldn’t need to be found on anyone . . .

They’d linked once before, and she had known the moment Kyana stepped into her head. But that had been days ago. She tried it now but nothing came. Kyana wasn’t there when she needed her. Revenge sounded better and better.

“No! I am not this person!”

You are whoever I say you are.

The low, masculine baritone was a quiet scream.

“I am not your toy!”

You are whatever I say you are.

She again felt the floating sensation that had become as familiar as her breath. That blackness. The reason for her gaps in memory. She knew if she couldn’t find a way to fight him, he’d consume her. Make her do things she couldn’t remember.

How did one fight back when the darkest god ever to have lived had taken up residence in one’s soul? If she’d ever suspected her powers as a Witch might leave her susceptible to this—gods save her . . . How could she have known?

He was speaking to her now, a cold whisper on the breeze lifting from the ocean. She nodded her compliance, told him she understood his commands though all she wanted was to scream that she wouldn’t obey. She knew she would. She had no control anymore.

He was inside her, forcing her to smile, to caress the sharp points of the bloody weapon like a lover’s body.

Poseidon’s trident. She remembered.

And she couldn’t push past his influence long enough to embrace the horror of what she’d done.

Of what she was about to do.

Chapter One

Kyana Aslan shook off the exhilaration shivering under her skin and tossed a grin at Ryker. The demigod smiled back, his teeth blindingly white in the shadows of Matanzas State Forest.

Becoming a goddess certainly had its perks. Like running fifty miles in under five minutes without the smallest hint of exhaustion. She’d only been the new Goddess of the Hunt for a day, and while she didn’t yet