Page 33 of Possess Me

The living area was dark, as was the kitchen. But he saw a faint glow in the hallway that led to the bedroom, and he moved in that direction, stalking his prey.

His skin tingled, his body on fire. A dark power raged through him, black as night, breathing fire into him. Strengthening him. Readying him for what was to come.

No. Not strength. Something else.

Something else was twisting inside him.

He fought to grab hold of his thoughts, but they seemed to scurry away, almost as if in terror.

Terror. Oh, yes. The time for terror had come, slithering closer with every breath. And soon she would know the extent of his wrath—and the pain that accompanies a punishment rendered without the weakness of mercy and—

No!

“Nikki!”

It took more effort than anything he’d ever had to do to force the word to burst out of him, and yet he heard no sound. He was silenced. Trapped.

He? The voice slithered through his mind. The “he” you used to be doesn’t even exist anymore. It is only I. The dark. The serpent.

The Basilisk.

Somewhere in a deep, dark hole, the soul that had once been Damien railed against the bars of an invisible prison, trying to escape. Trying to understand.

Then he saw her.

She stood in the middle of the room, looking at him with terror in her eyes, and he felt himself go hard when she parted her lips and whispered his name. “Damien.”

“Nikki.”

It was more of a growl than a word, and though he felt the coarseness of it in his throat, he knew he hadn’t spoken. More, he knew he wasn’t the only creature looking through his eyes at the woman standing before him. A stunning woman whose hair fell in waves to her shoulders. Whose body was clad in what must have been a scandalous evening gown decades ago, the thin material hugging her body in a way that made his chest tighten—with lust, with fear, and with something else he couldn’t name.

Desire. Greed. Need. And more. So much more.

It’s fury, too, and it’s beating down on you. Can’t you taste it, Damien? She’s cheating. The little bitch is cheating on you. You!

She thinks she can cheat on the likes of Damien Stark and get away with it. Tell her. Show her. Prove to her she can’t get away with it.

Ice water flooded his veins, the strength of it pushing him forward even as she ran toward him, her mascara running in dark streaks over her cheeks. “It’s Basil. Damien, please. The journal. It’s Basil. It’s Basil, and I—”

She lurched back as if something invisible had grabbed her from behind. He watched, feeling a cold nothingness mixed with glee as he saw her stumble—as he realized that she was going to fall. Served the cheating little whore right.

Then she was on the floor, the hem of her gown ripped from where she had caught it on the heel of her shoe, her temple bleeding from where she’d slammed it against the edge of the dresser.

He caught the smell of blood, threw his head back, and roared, the sound raw and primal. And not his. This wasn’t him. Dear god, this wasn’t him.

Oh, but it is. You are we and we are I. And she will get what she deserves. And the little adulterer deserves pain. And she sure as hell doesn’t deserve us.

He kept his eyes on Nikki, his heart pounding in his chest as he willed himself to run to her. To touch her. To make sure she was alright.

But he couldn’t move. Something held him back. Invisible arms seemed to tighten around his chest, holding him still as he struggled to breathe.

“Nikki!” The scream ripped out of him—or tried to. In truth, it was barely a whisper.

She has to die for us. The little bitch cheated, remember? She has to die. And her death will bring us more power. You will be more than a king. We will be more than a god. Ambition, Damien. We will burn across the world and feed your ambition. You have always sought power—and the little bitch has been keeping you down. Making you soft. Making you weak.

The words twisted in his head. In his gut. “No.” Somehow, he managed to rip the word out, but the rest was trapped in his head. Trapped with the basilisk. With the demon.

Fool. You say she is your everything. That she is your ambition. That without her you are nothing? You are weak. But once she is dead, you will learn. You will learn the meaning of power.