Deal with the Devil (Dark Desires Book 1) Read online

  Deal with the Devil

  Dark Desires Book 1

  M.L. Mountford

  For my amazing husband and two wonderful daughters.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Epilogue

  Hell Hath No Fury

  Hell’s Angel

  Mailing List

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  1

  Lucifer

  He was late. Time was not precious to me—I was immortal after all—but he wanted something from me, and he was doing himself no favours. I’d arrived at the bar earlier than we’d arranged, but by making me wait all he was achieving was pissing me off.

  I was happy with the surroundings, which was in his favour. If he’d kept me waiting and had taken me to a shithole, blood would have been spilt—probably his.

  London by night was glorious. The lights, the people and, most importantly, the sins. The city oozed with desire which led people to sin, and that was where I shone.

  I was seated at the best table in the place, perks of being me. I always got what I wanted. I’d flashed a brilliant smile at the waitress when I arrived, and she did everything she could to keep me happy—nothing was too much trouble. The world was mine.

  I took in the bustling lights of the city from the massive floor-to-ceiling window in front of me. I could see for miles from the top of the Shard. He’d chosen the location, and I was more than happy. It suited my needs.

  It was a high-end club, and therefore the people inside were beautiful—well at least on the outside. Men and women danced, drank, and flirted. There was a lot of desire in the city tonight; I could sense it, and it made me feel powerful.

  The music was loud, the bass pounded through my chest, and my eyes were assaulted by the severity of the neon lights that flashed though the room. Places like this, though, were like a second home to me, and to be honest, it was no hardship.

  I could sense him before I saw him. He made his way through the throng of people on the dance floor. They swayed to the music, bodies grinding together in harmony with the beat.

  Daniel Turner was on his way to a meeting he would never forget.

  Mr. Turner was visually not what I expected. People sought me out for so many different reasons. The majority of people who needed me for the reasons Mr. Turner did, usually weren’t like him.

  They tended to be shy, timid, and very much lacking in self-confidence. Not Mr. Turner. There was more to this man than I first imagined. This will be interesting.

  On his way through the crowds, he was gaining a fair amount of female attention, and as he made his way to me, he flirted with a number of them.

  He worked in finance, but his muscular six-foot-one frame did not quite fit that job. His build did not scream finance, yet he wore a clearly expensive designer suit, so he obviously wanted people to know he had money. Mousey brown hair was worn slicked back away from his face in a distinguished style, and dull, blue eyes scanned the bodies of the women who danced before him.

  As I took him all in, I would have made a bet that he was a wolf, but I knew better and that he was indeed just human.

  “You’re late.” I stressed the words, making sure the displeasure in my voice was evident.

  “Sorry, London traffic. My apologies—” He stopped, clearly waiting for me to introduce myself.

  “Luke Albright, though you can address me as Mr. Albright.” I was aware that was not the name he expected, but he did not push it further.

  I motioned for him to sit down and without skipping a beat raised my hand to summon the waitress. She was with us immediately.

  “Would you like a drink, Mr. Turner?” I already knew that he wanted one—who wouldn’t given the circumstances?

  “Double tequila, neat,” he addressed the waitress in a demanding tone, never once raising his eyes to look at her.

  This guy was a prick, and I would enjoy my time with him should he choose to accept my terms. I raised my own glass to the waitress, indicating I wanted another. I flashed her my best smile, and she nodded while hurrying off.

  “So, can you get this done?” He asked, straight down to business.

  “First of all, Mr. Turner, I have some questions for you before we discuss the terms of our potential agreement. Is that acceptable?” He nodded.

  “What is the nature of your relationship to the woman in question? Who is she to you?” I knew all of the answers already, but I wanted him to tell me. I wanted to feel it.

  “She is my everything. I need her, and she was ripped away from me. I need her back. I have to have her back.” When he answered, I could see the desire and want for this woman. But there was something else… anger. It bubbled just below the surface.

  “She is yours? In what way?” Again, I knew the answer.

  “In every way. Everything about her is mine, and I want her back!” The anger grew; it was visible under the façade, but it was taking more for him to control it.

  “If she is yours, Mr. Turner, then why is she not with you?” The potential agreement was beneficial to both of us, but he needed me more—and, in all honesty, I enjoyed having my fun and toying with people.

  “Because she’s a fucking snowflake who couldn’t handle me. I… may have lost my shit on a couple of occasions and scared her. There was no need for her to vanish off the face of the fucking Earth.” I knew it was more than just him losing his temper, so I continued to prod him.

  “A couple of trips to the hospital and a restraining ordered would suggest to me that she is less of a snowflake and you are more of a bully, Mr. Turner.” I didn’t care either way what the outcome of our meeting was, but I liked the game too much to make things easy for him.

  “Go fuck yourself,” he said with a scowl, pushing up from his seat.

  “Sit,” I ordered. He did so immediately. It was a command that his body obeyed. My hands were clasped together, fingers laced, and my eyes had gone as black as the night sky. My demeanour had changed in an instant. He knew he’d fucked up.

  “My apologies, Mr. Albright. Sometimes my temper gets the better of me,” he admitted, looking at me sheepishly.

  The waitress returned with our drinks and placed them on the table in front of us. He didn’t acknowledge her as he downed his drink in one gulp. I thanked her, and she smiled at me. There was pure lust in her eyes; that was often the way with human women… and a fair few men.

  Everybody wants a bad boy, I thought to myself.

  When this meeting with Mr. Turner was done, I’d find her, take her
to the toilets and get her to suck my dick. She had, after all, been an excellent waitress and deserved a tip.

  Her eyes scanned the length of my body, from my face, down over my chest, and rested on my crotch; I thrust my hips a little, and I noticed her visibly flush. I could hear her heart beating faster in her chest, and she was undeniably aroused when she scuttled back over to the bar.

  A smile graced my lips. I would never tire of the effect I had upon people. They were the perks of the job, and I always made time to indulge in them.

  “Tell me, Mr. Turner, why would you not seek out the services of a private investigator? Surely they would be able to track her down for you?”

  “No, no, I don’t want them involved,” he said immediately in a hushed tone.

  “But why? I’m sure it is something they would be able to do. I don’t think it would take them very long to find her.”

  “Are you saying this because you can’t do it? Are you not able to find her?” His façade was slipping, and the anger was becoming more visible.

  “Not at all, Mr. Turner. I can, of course, do this for you. I just want to know why you’ve turned to me? There are other, easier methods at your disposal. Given the circumstances, I would have thought you would utilise them. I tend to be a… last resort.”

  “Private investigators would leave a trail.” His voice was low, almost a whisper.

  “Go on,” I prompted, gesturing with a wave of my hand for him to continue.

  “I don’t want to just find her. I want to find her, and I want to fucking kill her. A private investigator would be compelled to tell the police, and then I’d get put away. I want her dead, so I can be free to live my life.” His voice was a low, angry growl.

  “That woman is my entire world, and if I can’t have her, no one can. She’ll die at my fucking hands, and she’ll be glad it was me who ended both our pain. Now can you help, Mr. Albright?” He had conviction; I’d give him that.

  “That depends, Mr. Turner. Are you willing to pay? I can give you what you seek, but everything has a price. Everything.” I could see the anger in him, raging, coursing through his veins. I knew he would say yes.

  “What… what happens to me?” This was a common question. Most people wanted to know what would happen to them afterwards. In all truth, this was as much a mystery to me as it was to him. We wouldn’t know till it happened—I could guarantee it would not be good. I wasn’t going to tell him that though.

  “You get what you want from me; I fulfil our agreement. Then you live your life. When the times comes, you become mine. After that, I do not know. It depends on you, Mr. Turner.” I could tell that he hadn’t been expecting that response. He sat for a while in silence, contemplating the decision before him.

  “Alright. Agreed. When can I have her?” He was impatient and reckless. Both of which were good for me. He’d make mistakes and get into trouble. He would likely be mine sooner than he thought.

  “Did you provide my people with the information we requested?” He shook his head as he pulled out some documents from the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

  “No, but everything I have is in there. She’s been gone two years, so a lot of it is probably outdated, but it’s all I have.” He looked dejected when he passed me the information.

  I examined the picture of Mr. Turner and the woman. He was a few years younger, and they looked like a normal, happy, young couple. It must have been prior to his darkness taking over. She was pretty, and they looked good together. I leafed through the other documents. None of them would be much use compared to my contacts. My team were quicker, better, and everywhere. All-knowing.

  “I’ll have someone look into it straight away. This is your last chance, Mr. Turner, your final opportunity to walk away. Once you shake my hand the deal is done, and there will be no turning back.” I held my hand out.

  He observed it for several seconds. Finally, he leaned forward with purpose, taking my hand and shaking it.

  The deal was made; it was done.

  “Thank you, Mr. Albright,” he said, smiling at me.

  “Daniel, please… call me Lucifer,” I said with a grin.

  Now, where’s that waitress.

  2

  Tess

  I’d been taking photos of the venue in preparation, prior to the arrival of the guests and bridal party. Simon was at the hotel, taking photos of everyone getting ready.

  “Simon, the guests are starting to arrive. How long will the bridal party be?” I’d called him for an update so I could get everything ready.

  “The groom and his party left about fifteen minutes ago, so they should be with you soon. I’m leaving now, and the bridal party will be heading out in about ten minutes. How did the set-up shots go?” He was such a perfectionist.

  “The venue is beautiful, so it hardly took any work. I’ll see you when you get here.”

  I loved weddings. Everything about them: the outfits, the decor, the food, the wine, the dancing, and the love shared between two people.

  I, however, was nowhere near getting married—hell, I didn’t even have a boyfriend. That was a bit hard when you were as closed off as I was.

  This was my job. Simon, another photographer, had asked if I could help him out with the shots for the day. He was doing the formal ones, and I was in charge of the candid photos. As a freelance photographer, I did a lot of different jobs.

  Weddings, though… I was a sucker for them.

  I’d always loved capturing different images ever since I used my first camera. My mum got it for me, and I never looked back. I was lucky that one of my passions was my job. I knew it wasn’t that way for most.

  The location was spectacular. The happy couple had chosen to have both their ceremony and reception at a boathouse in Central Park. I’d walked or run around the park at least once a week since moving to New York but had never really paid much attention to the boathouse nestled on the lake.

  It was stunning.

  The ceremony room had huge, fully glazed doors that wrapped around the entire room. Deep, dark wooden floors were broken by a cream carpet which served as the aisle. Along the edge of the carpet were huge lanterns with pillar candles flickering inside. Either side of the aisle, there were ornate cream coloured chairs with light-green bows on the backs. At the end was an archway decorated with green foliage and a variety of stunning flowers.

  I began taking photos as the guests arrived; I guessed there were around 200 people there, so I knew I had lots to do. I noticed the groom, best man, and ushers had arrived and snapped some photos.

  Everyone made their way inside the beautiful venue, and the groom ventured up to the floral archway and stepped to the right of it. His best man followed.

  Both men were very handsome, around mid-thirties. Tall with broad frames. They wore black tuxes. No one looked bad in a perfectly fitted suit.

  At least that’s what I thought until I saw one of the ushers who approached the archway. I noticed both the groom and best man rolled their eyes slightly as he approached them. The usher was small in every sense of the word, and his suit made him look like a child. He was probably around the same age as the others but had a shaved head and a round face. The best man seemed annoyed and quickly dismissed him.

  As the usher made his way back down the aisle, he saw me and wiggled his eyebrows. I thought he was trying his best, “How you doing?” but I ignored him. Even if he had been my type, I still wouldn’t have done anything; I was working, I was a professional, and he was definitely not my type.

  Simon found me and filled me in on how we would be shooting the ceremony. He’d be at the front taking the majority of the shots, and I’d float around in the background grabbing any photos I thought worked.

  With everyone in place the wedding procession started. The music was a classical piece, and I recognised it as Pachelbel’s Canon in D Major. I didn’t know a lot of classical music, but this one was common at weddings. Rock was much more my thing, and I loved seeing li
ve bands in any setting.

  The doors opened, and the bridesmaids entered. There were two smaller ones who entered first, and I guessed there were about four and six; they threw petals from little baskets. Next were the adult bridesmaids; they made their way down the aisle on the arms of the ushers. I took shots of them all.

  The last pair entered, and it was the usher I’d seen earlier. He was escorting an elegant-looking woman, in her early thirties. She was much taller than him, even without her heels on. She smiled, but I could see she was putting on a brave face. I knew it because I’d worn the same face so many times.

  He, however, was completely oblivious to her discomfort. As I continued shooting, I saw him sway slightly, and the bridesmaid wobbled on his arm. He’d clearly already had a few drinks.

  With the pair reaching the end of the aisle it was the bride’s turn to make her entrance. Heads swivelled to the doors as they opened, and she entered.

  I was watching the groom. I thought that you could always tell how much a couple loved each other by looking at the groom’s face when his bride entered. I remember a couple of weddings where the groom looked indifferent, and I felt sorry for the women having to be with pricks that didn’t appreciate them.

  This groom, however, was not one of those. His eyes lit up when he saw her, and they glistened slightly with tears. The biggest grin spread across his face.