The Devil's Gate Read online

  Rue Volley

  The Devil’s Gate – Book #1 (The Devil’s Gate Trilogy)

  Rue Volley resides on Earth with her husband, Von Erik, and their two pug sons, Momo and Oshi. She is an award winning author, graphic artist, and screenwriter. She is also the Creative/Marketing Director for Crushing Hearts and Black Butterfly Publishing, and co-owner of Lovebites Production Company, which specializes in Dark Fantasy Films.

  Books by Rue Volley

  Hellhound

  Hellhound: Dogs of War

  Hellhound: Prince of Fire

  Hellhound: Handbook

  The Blood & Light Vampire Series

  A Witch’s Tale

  Finding Mia

  Finding Chloe

  Paper Dolls

  Heaven to Hell

  The Devil’s Gate

  Rue Volley

  This Book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, duplicated, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  ©Text Copyright 2015 Rue Volley

  Cover by Rue Volley

  Edited By Karmin Dahl

  All rights reserved

  This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this novel are fictitious and are products of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual events, or locales or persons, living or dead are entirely coincidental.

  Published by Hot Ink Press

  “I’ll speak in a Monstrous little voice.”

  A Midsummer Night’s Dream

  ~Shakespeare

  Contents

  Acknowledgements

  TO GRANDMOTHER’S HOUSE WE GO

  BLINDED BY THE LIGHT

  BLOOD AND BRANDY

  UNDERSTANDING THE HUNT

  THE GIFT

  PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT

  TRYING TO BE NORMAL

  CHARITY

  SAFE WORD

  CHERRY RED MUSTANG

  SLEEPOVER

  WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE SO CUTE?

  ROSE VALLEY

  SECOND CHANCES

  FAKING IT

  PAWNLESS ENDGAME

  HOMECOMING

  THE VAMPIRE CHECKLIST

  NEGOTIATION

  EVERYTHING FEELS LIKE THE LAST TIME

  LET ME IN

  GLIMPSES OF THE FUTURE

  HISTORY REPEATS ITSELF

  THE DEVIL’S GATE

  THE TRUTH WILL NOT SET YOU FREE

  NOW OR NEVER

  BLACKOUT SUN

  THREE LITTLE WORDS

  Acknowledgements

  I am forever grateful to the following people in my life.

  My husband, Von. Without you I would be lost.

  My Publisher and dearest friend, Sarah Davis Brandon. Thank you for always believing in me.

  My Personal Assistant, Karmin Dahl. You know that I think you are a rock star.

  My Publicist, Gladys Gonzales Atwell. Love you baby, you rock my world.

  My dear friend, Nicola Omerod. You signed me first. I will love you forever.

  My fans, friends, and family. For always supporting me on this journey.

  #Onehouseunited for being the best publishing house in the world. Mega Talent, Mega Love.

  Much love to the following team of people who helped me on this journey with The Devil’s Gate.

  Laurie Lambert

  Brandy Lowe

  Shyla Colt

  Pavarti K. Tyler

  Tonya Allen

  Lily Luchesi

  Cassie Hoffman

  Pyxi Rose

  Katie Shelby

  Amanda Muller

  Stacey Rourke

  Lilliana D’archangelo

  CarmillaVoiez

  Jeannette Joyal

  Sarah Davis Brandon

  Jessica Baker-Bridgers

  Jane Barron

  Amanda Wimer

  CShell

  Jacquie Talento

  Rebecca Poole

  He Kirchhoff

  Jenny Bynum

  Kitty Honeycutt

  Abbey Pearson

  Crissy Armenta

  Wendy Lovetiggi

  Enjay Taylor

  Miranda Anderson

  Michelle Clay

  Bella Doerres

  Shebat Legion

  Regina K. Ryals

  Channing M’Lynne Heater

  Amber Haynes

  Emily Hardy

  Katie Blythe

  Heather Hammond

  Branda Beachum

  Megan Matteson

  Sher Lynn

  Elizabeth Morgan

  Abby Garrett

  Stephenee Carsten

  Jamie Turner

  CHAPTER ONE

  TO GRANDMOTHER’S HOUSE WE GO

  I sat by the coffee shop window, twisting my hair between my fingers while the blank screen of my laptop stared back at me. There were so many words that I wanted to type, but they kept just out of reach, increasing my frustration rather than relieving my stress. Weaving tales was my escape from studying and now my looming graduation. Giving up for the moment, I sighed and slouched back in the chair to sip my coffee.

  I scanned the room and saw nothing of much interest until the door chimed. A man walked in, handsome, groomed, and very attractive. He calmly approached the counter and spoke. I found myself studying him and his height. He had to be at least six-foot-four or maybe three; it was hard to tell from where I sat. He was so tall, so powerful. His jaw tight and firm, he worked out, ate well, from the looks of his tailored suit and coat, he had money. His hair was dark, the low light made it look black, cut shorter on the sides and back, longer on the top. Slicked back and modern.

  I bit my lip as I twisted my hair a little too tight. I felt it pull in my fingers. I hissed, attempting to untangle it as he turned and glanced at me. I stopped fidgeting and grinned at him, not knowing why. His eyes were dark and framed with thick, black lashes. Blue, a piercing blue, the kind of stare that spoke volumes without a word having to be said. My heartbeat sped up without any control.

  He handed the girl his money and picked up his coffee, turned back, letting his eyes wander over to me again. I cleared my throat, adjusted in my seat and placed my hands on the keyboard as if I was indeed working on something. I guess he thought he would be intruding if he said hello, so he left and I relaxed.

  I looked up as the girl from behind the counter approached me. “More?” She asked, as she looked at my half-empty cup.

  “Sure,” I answered, not needing it, but being cordial for no other reason than to avoid conversation.

  She continued on. “Cute, huh?” I looked back up at her.

  “Who?”

  She leaned in and smiled at me, her eyes lit with excitement. “You don’t know Jack?”

  I shook my head. “No—who is he?”

  “The man who was just in here. He comes in everyday and I would love to ask him out, but he is just so—you know. He owns everything.” Her voice trailed off in a whisper like she didn’t want anyone else to hear her.

  “Everything?” I asked. She set my cup down, and I lifted it to my lips. The heat felt good as it rose up along with the delicious smell of the deep roasted coffee.

  “You know what? I should just ask him out, I mean, why not, right?”

  I shook my head as I set my cup down next to my laptop. “No, you said he owns everything.”

  She carefully looked back toward the door. “Yeah, that’s Jack Landon. You know, Landon Enterprises, Landon Library, Landon University…”

  Her words trailed off as I l
ooked out the window and saw him standing there. He turned and saw me staring. I rubbed my neck. Of course I knew who Jack Landon was, well—I knew who his family was. They did own everything, I mean, basically he does, along with his brother, Jerod. Their parents built this city, not unlike Gotham and the Wayne family. They had more money than God, or the Goddess, whichever you prefer. I just didn’t know what he looked like. I was a little shocked—I guess. I really don’t know what I expected.

  Jack was one of the two heirs to the Landon fortune. He was, if I remember correctly, a year older than his brother Jerod. Their father died in a plane crash—a small two-seater that he was flying himself. I remembered seeing the articles on it. It saddened me. I lost my dad too, not that way—mine died from a car accident. But an accident just the same. It’s a terrible thing to lose anyone that you love—even worse when it is so sudden. So when I saw the headline, I felt as if I could relate to it, the grief, the emptiness, and the questions about why it happened. Funny how tragic occurrences can make you feel closer to strangers. As if that one thing you have in common could connect you on a deeper level than it could with others.

  Jack was only twenty-three when he lost his dad. I was seventeen when I lost mine. I guess the age doesn’t matter. The loss is exactly the same unless you are too young to process it. He had lost his dad during my first year in college here, I was nineteen then but I still missed my dad. That would make him twenty-seven now. I glanced back at him. He looked young. Twenty-seven looked fine on him. I’m only twenty-three, but I felt much older some days.

  Age is a state of mind anyway. I had been drinking coffee and reading the paper since I was nine. I remembered sitting at the kitchen table, across from my dad as we mimicked each other. I missed him; I always would. That feeling of loss never goes away and I would have to guess that it’s the same for Jack Landon. Money doesn’t change anything when it comes to death.

  She continued to talk. I blinked a couple of times as I started to hear her again. “I heard that he is into some crazy stuff.”

  I narrowed my eyes as they went from him to her and back again. “Like what?” I inquired. She winked at me as she mouthed the words ‘in the bedroom’. I leaned back and cleared my throat.

  “Oh, well—I mean,” I blushed as she chuckled. Her eyes lifted as she stared at him out the window. “I mean, can you imagine?”

  I took a breath and closed my laptop, quickly packing it up and abandoning the coffee on the table. She watched me and crinkled her brow as I ran out the front door, clumsy as usual and dropping half of my stuff as soon as I hit the pavement. No, I don’t know what you mean. I have never had sex other than with my tiny bullet vibrator, thank you.

  I paused and leaned down, gathering my things and trying my best to not drop my laptop. I saw two very nice shoes step up to me. I slowly looked up at this towering man as he stared down atme. He blocked the sun from my view. I blinked a couple of times as he leaned down. It flustered me as I smelled him. Whatever he was wearing was completely intoxicating. It engulfed my senses like the event horizon.

  I reached for my purse as he did. His fingertips grazed the top of my hand. I jerked it back as if he had injured me. He paused, his stare intense and yet, not so intimidating as I first imagined.

  His voice was steady and soft.“Let me help you.”

  I swallowed hard as I pulled the contents of my purse back inside, quickly concealing my birth control. Not as if I need it, I use it to regulate my…well, you know. I blushed as I spotted my small silver bullet vibrator on the sidewalk. I reached for it, but before I could grab it, he had it at his fingertips and was staring at it. He smiled. His teeth were as white and straight as arrows. I snatched the bullet from him and shoved it into my bag, completely mortified.

  “I have bad arches—in my feet. I use it for that.” He nodded to me; surely he was amused as the red color rose in my cheeks. He reached out and held my elbow as I stood up. The smell of him was becoming more intense and completely consuming my senses. I closed my eyes and then opened them to see him standing close to me, staring down as his hand continued to hold onto my elbow. I bit my lip and pushed a loose strand of my hair behind my ear as he studied me so intently. I felt as if I was an oddity to him. His eyes moved from mine to my lips and then to my shirt. My heartbeat sped up as I stepped back and nodded. “Thanks.”

  I looked up as the first droplets of rain started to fall. Cold and somewhat welcome. The rain could give me a reason to run away. I certainly needed it after he had—I couldn’t believe I had my bullet with me. I could die. Surely someone like him would know what it was.

  I reached up and lifted the hood of my jacket, my red coat making me look more like Little Red Riding Hood against the bland gray concrete jungle. He extended his hand to me as I looked toward it and felt as if I should comply. His grip was firm yet reassuring. He shook my hand slowly as his other hand joined in and completely enveloped my own.

  “Just call me the big bad wolf,” he said, jokingly.

  I tilted my head. “Wolf, huh? Should I be afraid? I mean, doesn’t the wolf want to eat her?”

  I was kind of shocked that I even encouraged him, but for some reason he made me so nervous I found myself saying exactly what I meant, instead of filtering it as I normally do.

  He paused, studying me for a moment longer than he needed to, “Yes, he does.”

  I felt the heat in my cheeks and hoped that the chilly air would mask the blushing. I pulled my hand from his and his hands floated mid-air for a moment. I don’t think he was used to anyone just taking the upper hand with him. He lowered them as he scanned the city and then his eyes returned to me.

  “And you are?”

  I parted my lips as water ran down my face and over my mouth. He watched it and reached up and touched his bottom lip with his thumb. His gaze could make me wet, and not from the rain falling from above us. “Abigail—Abi for short.”

  He may, in fact, be the wolf. The thought didn't scare me as much as it intrigued me.

  “Abigail.” He repeated. He quickly shed the idea of a nickname. “Is that it, Abigail? Or do you have a last name?”

  The edge of my lip curled. This had turned into something I wasn’t expecting at all. A game of sorts. I mean, if I tell him my full name then he will be able to track me down, right? But does it even matter? He has all of the money in the world so holding out would not be that big of a deal would it?

  “Smith,” I jested, continuing to grin.

  He nodded slowly. “Oh?”

  “Or maybe it’s Jones,” I added, feeling coy.

  “Or—maybe it’s Watson.”

  My eyes became wide as he nailed it. “How did you…?”

  He stepped up to me and touched the tag on my laptop; a left over from my last trip home. I looked down and saw my name staring up at me.

  “Well, I lost that one didn’t I?”

  He lifted my chin with his fingers and made me look up at him. “There is no winning or losing, Abigail, there is only the game.”

  I narrowed my eyes as thunder broke the silence and I jumped uncontrollably. He stepped back as I looked at my watch and then shook my head.

  “I’m late.”

  His mischievous eyes gazed at the watch on my wrist. “So now you’re the rabbit.”

  I tilted my head. “You love fairy tales, don’t you?”

  He laughed as he scanned the people walking past us. His eyes returned to mine. “I love anything that gives me pause.”

  “Mmm,” I said as I glanced at my watch again. “I have to go; it was nice meeting you, Wolf, or should I call you Jack?” He touched his lip with his thumb once again. I guess my knowing his name impressed him to a certain degree and perhaps amused him.

  I turned and started to walk away from him before I gave him any more time to toy with me. I had never had a man flirt like he had, but then again, he may have just been playing with me. I mean, come on. It’s not like I am some Hollywood starlet, someone he could e
asily get at any time and probably had on many occasions. I am just Abigail.

  I stepped out to the curb and looked back at him. He stood next to his black limo and studied me. His stare bothered me, not in a way that made me uncomfortable, but one that entranced. I would assume he was a ladies' man. I mean, with wealth comes great power, even I knew that.

  I checked my watch again and then stepped out into the street only to hear brakes locking up. I turned, frozen like a deer in headlights, as a large bus came barreling toward me. I closed my eyes and suddenly felt arms around me. I was thrown out of the way with a body landing on top of me.

  My breath came out in quick bursts; white puffs of smoke rose from my lips as I tried to catch my breath and calm down. I couldn’t focus through the blurring rain that was now pouring down from above us, and a face finally came into view. It was Jack and my savior from a certain death.

  I sat very still next to a large marble fireplace. The stone was black in color, reflecting little to no light. The entire room was this way. Dark, mysterious, sexy. The artwork was minimal, but what did flank the walls was large and overbearing, matching the grandeur of the room. I looked to my left to see a half-naked woman, red hair flowing, wearing a see-through white dress. She lay sprawled out on a beautiful white and black Victorian couch in a dark room; light pouring down over her body. She looked angelic in nature, lifelike. The painting was exquisite.

  I narrowed my eyes to study it and stood up. I wrapped the red sheet around me very tightly. My clothing had been soaked through and Jack offered to have them dried for me by his staff. I was still in such a shock after the near-death experience that I had agreed without thinking. I sat here in my underwear, covered in a satin sheet in a house that cost more than the entirety of my possessions ever would in this life. So unlike me and yet I came without hesitation.

  I walked toward the woman and then stopped as her erect nipples came into view behind the sheer material of the dress she was wearing. Her gaze was familiar, eyes dark and somewhat mysterious. I jumped as I heard a voice behind me; Jack spoke as he stared up at the painting.