Wicked Whispers Read online

  “The music is insidious and addictive. If you listened to it for long periods of time, you’d crave it more than any human drug.” His voice was hard. He made no excuses, didn’t try to sugarcoat the effects of his music. He removed his hand.

  Ivy mourned its loss, but at least she could think straight once again.

  She couldn’t help but respect him even as what he said horrified her. “How do you feel about that?” Jeez, she sounded like a shrink.

  Murmur’s stare was cold, expressionless. “I’m allowed to feel rage, anger, hate, and any other negative emotion you can name. Positive emotions aren’t covered in the demon’s handbook.”

  “But you do feel positive emotions. I’ve seen you smile, laugh.”

  “Lapses. Nothing but unfortunate lapses.”

  Ivy searched for sarcasm or humor in his eyes and found none. She sighed. “Well, that just sucks.”

  He smiled. “See, another lapse. I seem to be having a lot of them around you. Don’t feel sorry for me. I get my kicks in strange and unusual ways.” He glanced across the table. “And here comes the strange and unusual now.”

  Ivy followed his gaze.

  Asima appeared sitting on the chair across from them. Only her head showed above the top of the table. One ear looked a little ragged, and Ivy could see a few suspicious bald spots. Sparkle had done some damage.

  “Ohmigod. Someone will see you.” Ivy’s gaze skipped around the lobby. No one was staring.

  “The back of the chair hides most of me. And anyone who does see me won’t care. Humans rarely care about things that don’t impact them.” The cat seemed unconcerned.

  “Why are you still here? Didn’t Sparkle make you leave?” Ivy scanned the room, certain that at any moment someone from management would bear down on them, lift Asima by the scruff of her neck, and deposit her outside.

  “I’m still here because I’m the messenger of Bast, the Egyptian cat goddess. She who is the goddess of sensual pleasure, protector of the household, bringer of health, and guardian of firefighters would be insulted if her messenger was tossed out of a castle she helped save at one time. Sparkle knows this.” And if a cat could smile, Asima was smiling.

  “Why are you here?” Murmur didn’t sound friendly.

  Asima yawned. “I saw the ogre, and I know that you compelled Ivy’s silence.” She fixed her gaze on Murmur.

  “And?” He seemed more relaxed now, as though he knew what Asima would say next.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” The cat sniffed her disdain. “I’m here to make a deal.”

  6

  “Wait. You’re here to make a deal with him?” Ivy sounded outraged.

  Asima managed a cat shrug. “It’s nothing personal. You’d be much more entertaining. I could help you survive the slut queen’s tyranny. But I’m afraid you have nothing to bargain with.”

  “Bargain with?”

  Asima yawned. “As in, you have nothing that I want, so why would I do a favor for you?”

  “Because it’s the right thing to do?” Ivy’s voice rose.

  Asima looked puzzled. “What a quaint concept.”

  “I don’t believe you.” But Ivy’s expression said she did and that Asima had better guard her tail when Ivy was in the room.

  Asima shifted her attention to Murmur. “Now, my gorgeous music demon, we’ll negotiate. Which means that I’ll state my terms for silence, and you’ll agree to them.”

  Murmur smiled. He’d just gotten a crazy idea. Asima could solve his problem with Bain. If things worked out the way he planned, the bitch cat would earn an added bonus in this deal, one that might not entertain her. “Let’s hear them.”

  He could see that Ivy wanted to yell at them and walk away, but he could also see the curiosity in her eyes. She’d stay.

  “First, I want you to escort me to operas, ballets, plays, and other cultural events of my choice.” The cat glanced at Ivy. “There are so few in the castle who have any appreciation of the arts.”

  Ivy crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the cat. “Don’t expect any sympathy from me.”

  “How many ‘cultural events’ and for how long?” Asima would find that he’d done some horse trading in his day.

  “Twelve and for a year.” The cat’s eyes gleamed with excitement.

  “Wait. If that’s all you want, I can go with you.” Ivy looked hopeful.

  Asima gave the cat equivalent of a sigh before glancing at her. “Of course that’s not all I want. My silence comes with an expensive price tag.”

  “Six and for six months.” Murmur countered. He was enjoying this. “And you’re in human form when we go. I assume you can take human form.” He tried to look concerned. “You’re not ugly, are you? An ugly woman would damage my cool cred with other demons.”

  “Shallow jerk.” Ivy.

  “That offer doesn’t sound as though you care if I mention the ogre to Ganymede.” Asima’s blue eyes narrowed to calculating slits. “And I’m not only dazzlingly beautiful, I also know how to look glamorous without resorting to butt cheeks and nipple displays.”

  Murmur tried not to look disappointed. Butt cheeks and nipple displays would impress the hell out of the faery host. “I’m keeping the ogre’s presence from Sparkle and Ganymede to protect someone else. Demons have no true loyalty, so if you get greedy, I’ll simply pack and leave. It’s always about protecting my own ass. I’m selfish and self-serving. Deal with it.” He forced himself to ignore the contempt in Ivy’s eyes. “It’s your choice.”

  His loyalty comment bothered Murmur, because loyalty to Bain had brought him to the castle. He could understand why the Master wanted him back for a total refurbishing.

  Asima hissed. “Fine. Six glorious events within six months. Now, for my second demand. I want you to play my favorite musical pieces in my head when I command you to. Six months will have to do. I miss my music when I’m away from home, but a cat wearing ear buds makes humans act foolishly.”

  “I’m curious. If you can take human form, why don’t you do it more often? It would make life a lot easier.”

  Her hiss sounded impatient. “I have several reasons. The only one you need to know is that Bast is a cat goddess, and she wishes her messengers to remain in feline form except for emergencies.”

  Murmur grinned. “Do you have a lot of emergenices?”

  She sniffed. “Perhaps I stretch the rules more than I should, but I always make sure that only those who are deserving see me in all my amazing mortal beauty.”

  He nodded as he bit his lip to keep from laughing. “So, any last-minute demands?”

  Her expression turned sly. “You also must agree to stop at my command. I’m aware of how dangerous listening to your music for too long can be.”

  “Command, demand, you obviously like to be in charge.” He’d allow her that illusion.

  She widened her eyes. “Of course. Who wouldn’t if they found themselves in a position of power?”

  “I’ll play the music, but you can’t interfere with my sleep.”

  Asima flattened her ears and whipped her tail back and forth. “Fine.” She didn’t sound as though it was fine.

  “Now, I have a demand of my own.” Murmur tried to look as though what he was about to say wasn’t important. He hoped the cat bought it.

  “I don’t think you understand. I’m in control.” Asima purred her satisfaction with her on-top position.

  “I know. You’ve made that clear. But what if you could get the full year that you originally wanted just for doing one small thing for me?” He watched greed war with suspicion in her eyes.

  Greed won. “Explain.”

  Careful, careful. “You’d have to attend one function with me. My choice. Nothing dangerous, just a friendly gathering.” He made sure his mental shields were up for that lie. If she got a glimpse into his mind now, everything would be over. “You’d have to be in human form and look as beautiful as possible.”

  She frowned. It looked strange on he
r elegant Siamese face.

  “Not that you’d ever be less than spectacular.” He glanced at Ivy. Her expression said that he was such a slime lord.

  Asima twitched her tail and glanced away. “I don’t know…”

  “What possible problem could there be? You’re more powerful than most nonhumans”—she’d have to be if she’d survived a fight with Sparkle—“and humans don’t pose any threat.”

  She met his gaze. “Why?”

  He took a deep breath. “I need to impress my master. And having goddess connections opens all kinds of doors.”

  Asima nodded as though she understood that reasoning. “I agree. The deal is done. You can begin the music as soon as I leave. I’ve left a playlist in my mind.” Then she was gone.

  Murmur leaned back in his chair and waited for Ivy’s anger to explode. He’d ride it out. Too bad he couldn’t tell her how his little deal with Asima had probably saved her life, or at least her existence as she knew it.

  She remained silent, staring at Asima’s empty chair for a few moments, and then shifted her gaze to him. “Is this how you do everything—with force or coercion or making deals? Why don’t you ever just ask someone to do something for you?”

  What? Was she joking? “Were you even listening to Asima? No one does anything for me without wanting something in return. That’s the way things work in my life.”

  A frown line formed between her eyes. “Don’t you have friends that will help you when you need it?”

  “No.” He thought about Bain for a moment. Even Bain thought in terms of favors given and owed. “People don’t do favors for demons.”

  “When was the last time you asked?”

  He’d asked Bain to use someone other than Ivy to trade to the Sluagh Sidhe. Bain had only agreed after Murmur pointed out the flaws in his plans. “That’s not important.”

  “Maybe you should ask sometime, trust someone.”

  Her voice was so low he wondered if she’d even meant him to hear. Murmur wished she’d let it go. “My life, my terms.”

  Bain had trusted him enough to tell Murmur his plans. In his place, would Murmur do the same? Probably not. It was dangerous to ask for or give trust in his world. “Look, I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

  But she didn’t seem ready to drop it. “But everyone has someone they—”

  He knew how to stop this. “Come to my room right now and we’ll discuss all your concerns. Just you and me.”

  Her eyes widened. “I don’t think…I mean, I have to—”

  “Exactly. No one trusts demons, so we get things in other ways.” Suddenly, he didn’t want to spend any more time with her, with anyone. “I’ll probably see you tomorrow. Sparkle will find a way to make that happen.” He pushed his chair back and stood.

  “I’ll go to your room.” She got up, prepared to follow him.

  What the hell? She’d officially surprised him, not an easy thing to do. “Great. Let’s go.” And maybe on the way he’d figure out something to say. Unfortunately, talking wasn’t high on his wish list of things he wanted to do with Ivy.

  By the time they reached his room, he’d decided that this whole thing was a bad idea. He had nothing to say to her that she would want to hear. It shouldn’t take much effort to convince her to leave without actually ordering her from the room. He could get rid of her with his music, but somehow the thought felt wrong.

  Stripping off his shirt, he flung it onto the floor and then sat on his bed. After taking off his boots, he laid back on the bed with his hands folded behind his head. “Just getting comfortable for our nice long talk.” He looked at her from beneath lowered lids and then slid his tongue across his lower lip. “Feel free to make yourself just as comfortable.” The foolish part of him hoped she’d take up his challenge.

  She hadn’t moved, hadn’t blinked the whole time he’d been going through his act. Her expression said a silent war was raging somewhere behind those big brown eyes. Finally, she moved.

  Ivy looked regretful as she glanced at the nearest chair before sighing and walking over to his bed. She kicked off her shoes and propped herself up against the pillow beside him. “Your game, your choice of a playing field. Now, what else can you do with your magic besides compel people to dance until they die?”

  Murmur bit his lip to keep from smiling. None of this should amuse him in any way, but it did. She did. “I can make you feel any emotion I want with my music.”

  She shrugged. “Nothing special about that. Lots of songs can make me feel happy or sad.”

  “Not like mine. Never like mine.” His voice was soft, a whispered promise.

  Ivy hoped she was pulling off her laying-in-bed-with-you-is-no-biggie act. And it was an act. Her heart pounded as she forced herself to breathe in and out, in and out without gasping for air, without reacting to his scent—heated temptation and dangerous male. From the corners of her eyes, she could see every inch of his amazing chest—smooth, golden skin over hard muscle. All she had to do was reach over and slide her fingers across his ridged stomach. His flesh would feel warm, inviting her to move… higher. Danger lay in even thinking about going in the opposite direction. She’d place her hand over his heart and feel it beating, beating, beating… Did demons even have hearts?

  “You can touch me, you know.”

  His smile dripped with so much rich, sweet sensuality that it made her teeth hurt.

  She had no answer for that smile, so she pulled the first thought she came to from her jumbled mind. “Do demons have hearts?”

  “Yes.”

  Well, that didn’t generate much conversation. She’d try again. “Give me a sample of how your music affects emotions.” There, that should keep things going for a few minutes while she thought of other things to ask him.

  His glance told her what a complete coward she was. “Tell me when to stop.”

  “Bring it.” She tried for lightness, but it fell as flat as her deflated self-image. She’d always thought she was brave. But he’d unraveled her courage just by lying next to her with his shirt off.

  Suddenly, his music was in her head, music that was quiet, sad. It filled her mind with thoughts of things she’d believed long forgotten. She shut her eyes. The music swelled, the notes crying bitter tears behind her closed lids.

  Ivy had been five years old when her kitten died. The music became the slow strokes of her fingers across kitty’s fur, the confusion when kitty didn’t wake up, the way she’d cried all day because Mommy said kitty wouldn’t be coming back. Gone forever. Just like Grandma when Ivy was seven. She remembered holding her mother’s hand, not believing, certain that Grandma would be there to give her a big hug the next time Ivy visited her house. She wasn’t. Gone forever.

  Tears leaked from under Ivy’s closed lids. She refused to wipe them away at the same time she tried to deny the music. The melody hurt her heart, made it ache so badly that she wanted to roll into a ball and rock to ease the pain. Loss, so much loss.

  Voices joined the song in her head. She couldn’t quite understand what they were saying, but each voice clawed at her emotions, forced her to remember. Harry. Ivy had thought she loved him when she was seventeen. She felt once again the soul-deep agony when he said he didn’t want her anymore, would never hold her again. Gone forever.

  Every single memory crowded around her, slashing at her, opening wounds in the exact same way they had on the days they’d happened. She bled sorrow.

  “Please.” She could barely get the words past her lips. “Enough.”

  The music stopped.

  She opened her eyes and reached for the tissue box on the nightstand. It was a few minutes before she could speak. Murmur said nothing.

  When she finally felt in control again, she asked the question she already knew the answer to. But she wanted to hear him say it. “What would happen to someone if you decided not to stop?”

  He didn’t turn his head to look at her. “What would you do if the feelings I gave you went
on forever?”

  Ivy felt ice filling her veins, freezing her from the inside out. She’d do anything to stop the grief—go mad or die.

  “You had your choice of emotions. Why didn’t you choose a sexual one?” Maybe she should screen her questions before they popped out of her mouth.

  “Because it would’ve been too easy.” He looked at her then. “When it happens, I want it to be honest, something we both want.”

  When? His homeland would become a giant ice rink before that happened. Was the word “honesty” even in a demonic dictionary? “How do you use emotional attacks?” She tried to hide the coldness in her voice that matched the coldness inside her. After all, she’d asked for the demonstration.

  “Evil draws demons. I particularly enjoy claiming humans who’ve committed unspeakable crimes, who think they’re powerful because they’ve ended lives, who think no one can touch them. Then I scare them to death with my music.”

  He smiled. She shuddered.

  “So you become their judge, jury, and executioner.” She didn’t know why she was pushing so hard. Did she want him to tell her to leave? Did she want to sever the tentative connection she’d begun to feel? Yes. No. Damn, she didn’t know.

  He looked at her, surprised. “It’s never that. Demons don’t care about justice. Life is never fair, and most evil goes unpunished. Each of us chooses our victims. Some target the innocent. I get my thrills by targeting the most vicious among you. I love to see their expressions when they’re faced with the impossible—something more evil than they are.”

  Something. That’s the word he used to describe himself. She studied the painting on the wall across from her without even seeing it. He thought of himself as a thing. How could she feel any sympathy for a demon, for heaven’s sake? But she did. And felt the world as she’d always believed it to be tilt.

  “Next question, and then it’s my turn.” He turned on his side to face her.