From Ashes and Embers (Ceasefire Series Book 3) Read online

  From Ashes & Embers

  Ceasefire Series Book 3

  Claire Marta

  Edited by

  Tracy Roelle

  Copyright © 2018 Claire Marta

  Cover Design © 2018 by Alora Kate – Cover Kraze

  Formatted by

  Edited by Tracy Roelle

  The moral rights of the author have been asserted.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this work may be used, distributed or reproduced in any manner, including photocopying, recording or other methods electronic or mechanical, whatsoever without prior permission from the Author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  The book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Contents

  Prologue

  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

  Epilogue

  Playlist

  The Ceasefire Series

  Author Links

  About the Author

  Also by Claire Marta

  Prologue

  Flames rise boldly, licking upward into the darkened sky, the aroma of burning wood heavy in the crisp autumn air. Eyes fixed on the bright fierce rage, the screams of my mother fill my ears. Legs moving swiftly, they stumble to a stop as the beat of the heat has me cowering back. Shadows of the forms around the bonfire stretch ominously, beckoning me closer in the darkness.

  “Raziel!” Her petite frame comes into view through the inferno. Bound to the wooden stake, ropes coil around her body, keeping her trapped in place.

  Tears I’ve been fighting for the last few seconds spill free at her shriek to stream down my trembling cheeks. I don’t want to watch, but I can’t look away. The blaze has already ravaged her simple cotton dress and lower half. Blackened and destroyed them beyond recognition. Now they twist and dance up the rest of her writhing torso, eating away at her flesh and hair. I can only imagine her agony. It’s written across her face, once beautiful but now haggard with suffering. Her screams so filled with anguish and pain.

  “Mother!” Her name is a sob. I should have been with her. Protected her. Guilt at leaving her to go fishing gnaws at my gut. Why can’t I be strong enough to save her? If I were a grown man, rather than a ten-year-old boy, I would’ve killed the bastards who’d taken her. Cracked in their skulls. Gutted them with my fishing knife. Kicking futilely at the burning logs, I try to dislodge them. I’m too late. Even in my heart, I know that, but I can’t stop trying to rescue her. Love keeps me battling right to the end.

  “That’s the boy. The witch’s son.” One of her accusers points, bloodlust clear in his hate filled eyes reflected orange in the light.

  “Devil spawn. Burn him, too.” Another shout. Cries go up among the villagers. Savage howls to take my life just as they’re taking hers. Superstitious and God fearing, my mother’s healing ways have always been looked on as witchcraft. She saw to them all, from the eldest to the youngest. Yet none of them stepped forward to prevent her death.

  The smell of burning flesh fills my nostrils as they crowd around. Panic setting in, I return my gaze to the victim on the death pyre. Glassy empty eyes stare back. What’s left of my mother is lost in the swirling smoke. Hope withers and dies. A wail works its way up from my chest. Pain, rage, and a thirst for revenge sends me over the edge of control.

  “The Devil take you all!” I spit, grief poisoning my being. “I hope he comes up from the bowels of Hell and makes you all suffer for your sins. None of you are innocent or pure. Murderers! My mother’s death is on your hands!”

  Pain explodes through my skull. A fist snapping back my head. More punches follow. Small as I am, I don’t go down so easily. Blind, wild like a cornered animal, I fight with all I have. Hands claw at my clothes, the thin, thread bare material no match to the brutality. They won’t burn me, too. I’ll kill every last one to make them pay. I don’t care what it takes. Loathing drives me. Possesses me to the depths of my very soul, stirring something darker. Hatred takes a hold. Festering becoming stronger.

  A hard foot sweeps my legs out from under me. Crying out, I smash into the dirty ground hard, palms stinging. Cruel feet connect with my ribs, abdomen. Curling up into a ridged ball, I do my best to protect my organs, pain radiating through my frame. Maybe they’ll beat me to death instead. Why waste more wood?

  Blood fills my mouth as a boot finds my jaw.

  Just when I think they’re going to finally tear me apart, a roar soars up over their excited shouts. Exploding outward, the flames roll from the bonfire in a wave, consuming those closest in a fiery orange ball. The intenseness of the heat steals my ability to breath for a moment. Hands over my head, I wait for the sounds to settle. Through my splayed fingers, I see a figure step from the flames.

  A man.

  Black robes swirling around his bare feet with a life of their own, his handsome face holds the haughtiness of a confident king. Dark hair smoothed back from his features, when he moves it’s with all the grace of a predator on the prowl. Untouched by the fire, he walks toward me with a purposeful gait.

  The villagers start to scream in fear. Like the true ignorant cowards they are, they scatter, running in terror for the safety of the church. As if that place will keep them safe. God’s forsaken us. They're all self-righteous sinners, and a hollow stone shell won’t protect them now. Nothing will.

  The male smirks, amusement playing over his features. He doesn’t appear concerned by the people’s reactions. In fact, he seems to revel in the chaos. Delight in it.

  I know who he is.

  My mother has always taught me to be afraid of the Devil. The ultimate evil. He doesn’t bring love, only death and destruction in his wake. Bargains and promises to tempt mortals from princes to beggars.

  My anger builds. This is his fault. The blame lays at his door. Any sense of self-preservation vanishes like the smoke twirling around me in the air. Vengeance beats in time with the rhythm of my heart. A desire for retribution.

  Pain forgotten, I stagger to my feet, moving to meet him. The taste of blood still lingers in my mouth, my small body aching and battered.

  Halting a few steps away, he watches me with an enquiring tilt of his head.

  I don’t know why he’s here, but all I feel toward him is dislike.

  Fists beating his chest, I release my emotions. “This is your fault. Why didn’t you save my mother? You could ha
ve stopped this before it started. You let her die!”

  “And why is that? It’s not in my business to save humans,” he asks with a lift of one dark eyebrow at my snarl.

  “They said I’m your son.”

  Cupping my chin tightly, he raises my face to his. For a moment, he studies me in silence with piercing green eyes. “You’re not mine, but an angel did fuck your mother, and you are the result.”

  It’s true. All her stories. A heavenly being fathered me. Ruined my mother’s life to satisfy a moment of lust. Left her to her fate without a second thought.

  I let out a shaky breath. “Did her soul go to heaven?”

  The grip on my chin releases, Lucifer’s hand falling idly to his side. “No. It’s bound for Hell where it belongs.”

  Fresh tears flood my eyes, leaking unhindered down my dirt and blood smeared cheeks. “Please let her go. She never did anything bad in her life.”

  The Devil lets loose a humorless chuckle at my plea. “She was a whore, who sold her body. Stole food. For the sins she knows she has committed, she is now mine, and I will find a fitting punishment.”

  No.

  Not this. Kind, sweet, my mother’s lovely countenance flashes through my head. Her soft voice singing me to sleep. The gentle brush of her graceful hand in my hair. Her love like the warmth of the sun cocooning me. All ashes. Gone forever.

  “She did it to keep us fed and clothed. She doesn’t deserve this. Those sins are so small compared to others. Before she birthed me, she was a sister of the cloth. A nun. That has to count for something.” I tell him, my voice unsteady with the weight of her loss.

  Please let it count for something.

  Sorrow threatens to crush me, send me weeping to my knees, but somehow, I manage to push it down. Cram it deep inside until I’m alone. Forsaken by her faith, all she had left was me and her belief. Her certainty that something better and beautiful awaits us in Heaven. If she’s condemned to darkness, she’ll never find her paradise.

  Lucifer’s lips slink up in a sardonic smile, calculation in his pitiless stare. “Let me guess. When she found she was with child, they threw her out?”

  “Yes,” I admit gruffly.

  “And she always talked about the angelic being who visited her at night? The male who sired you. That’s what got her burnt as a witch. She should have known better and kept her mouth shut. Where was her God to save her? The angel who seduced her out of lust, hmm?”

  He’s right. Neither came. The only one who heard my call was the Devil himself, but even he didn’t stop her being burnt at the stake.

  “I’ll do anything if you just let her soul go to Heaven…please. I’ll trade my soul for hers,” I beg, too caught up in grief and bitterness to know any better. A child in mourning. Loss eating into my soul. Hatred for the father I’ve never known searing through my despair and misery. The fire continues to burn behind us, the corpse wilting beneath the hunger of the flames, feeding my darker feelings. Any goodness within me shrivels and dies.

  “If I release her, then you’re mine for eternity. Everything you are will belong to me.” He turns, beginning to walk away like he doesn’t much care what I decide either way. “There will be no room for anything else.”

  I don’t even hesitate or think of consequences. Stumbling after him, I try to keep up with his longer strides in the dark. “Yes. I’m yours. Anything you want, I’ll do. Please just let her find peace.”

  Pausing Lucifer turns to wait for me, green eyes shining with self-satisfaction. “Then we have a deal, young Raziel. Your soul is now mine, and your mother’s is free to nestle in the embrace of the heavenly hosts to find eternal happiness. You will refer to me as Master, and you will obey my every command, no matter how depraved or sinful without question. The life you knew is gone. Hell and all its unholy fire is your home now.”

  I nod, throat thick with emotion. I don’t care how he knows my name. All my thoughts are centered on my mother. No chance to say goodbye. No one last farewell or the comfort of her arms around me in a hug. Her words of love. Wiping the dampness from my cheeks with the back of my fist, I stand tall under my new master’s watchful gaze.

  I’ve damned myself.

  I know that.

  Lost everything in a single moment.

  Whatever comes next in my heart, I will know it was always worth it to set my mother free to where she truly should be. Surrounded by love and acceptance. She didn’t deserve what was done to her. They called her a witch and unnatural, unjustly. I’m to blame. My existence condemned her.

  Lucifer riffles his fingers through my hair in an oddly comforting gesture. “Now come take your revenge on these human sheep. That’s the reason you summoned me, isn’t it? Retribution for what was snatched away from you so cruelly.”

  Thirty minutes later and we stand in silence on a hill top, watching the village below. It’s a glowing sea of orange, red, and yellow. The frightened voices have long ago died away. Smoke rises into the darkness as the righteous flames rip through building after building. Nothing stirs. Only death remains as the bodies of every man, woman, and child lay slashed to bloody pieces, their blood still drying on my murderous hands.

  Chapter One

  Raziel

  “A Wedding?”

  Staring up at the Devil on his throne of human bones, I can’t keep the disbelief from my tone. He’s lost his fucking mind. All these centuries working as his right-hand man, all his games and schemes, I never thought I’d ever hear him say words like these.

  Tipping his head to the side, he regards me with a sharp gaze. “I wooed Mavi with blood and destruction to win her over. Now I finally have her, it’s time for something different. I wish to cement our union not just as mates but with her right as my Queen. Legitimize her statues and her claim.”

  I know he’s sensed my annoyance. He looks every ounce a stylish business man in his expensive black Armani suit. Each perfect button on the front as crimson as the color of his eyes. Shoulders broad, his clothes accentuate his warrior physique, honed by eons of combat and brutality. Calculating, hated, feared, it’s hard to resist his magnetism. It’s the reason so many humans sell their souls.

  “We all know who she is. You fuck all day long when you’re not killing those who displeasure you. Why in the name of all that’s unholy do you need a wedding to prove what’s obvious?” I question with exasperation. All of Hell knows her name. Her place at his side. The feats she went through to achieve her standing in his unholy court.

  “I do not answer to you, Raziel. I intend to propose to her properly. All you need to know is we will be gone for a week, at the most, if my Flower doesn’t decide to shake things up a little,” he adds with a sly grin.

  Mavi StClair. His new mate. The only female who has managed to hook Lucifer so deeply she’s become his greatest obsession. More fearless than the Devil himself. They’re deadly motherfuckers apart, but when they come together, they’re unstoppable.

  I’ve seen so many women who think their bad arse but when it comes to the crunch sit back and let a male protect them. That’s never the case with Mavi. She holds her own. Fights her own battles with the rage and power of a hurricane. If you get in her way, prepare to have her hand you your balls. No one else keeps the Devil on his toes like she does. He’s fully aware she doesn’t need him, and that just makes him crave her more.

  They may not have a conventional relationship, but it works for them.

  Pushing my shoulder off the enormous fireplace where it’s been resting, I straighten, rolling out the muscles in my neck with a satisfying click. “Mavi certainly has that butt clenching quality.”

  We both know not all his plans, where she was concerned, went smoothly or came to fruition. He put her through hell. Instead of breaking her, she picked up tricks on the way and beat him at his own game.

  “I find it arousing I can’t always predict what she’s going to do next,” he confesses, voice dropping to a hushed murmur. “I never know if I’ll awake
with her lips sucking my cock or a knife blade at my throat.”

  “You really took a gamble the night you confessed everything.”

  Raising a hand, he places it over his muscled chest where scars are hidden beneath the fineness of his shirt. Deep, permanent, he’ll wear them for eternity. “There was one split second I thought she was actually going to carve out my heart,” he tells me with a hint of amusement. We both know how close he came to losing. Mavi brought him to his knees. The only creature that ever has.

  “I’m not sure your timing is right for this though.” Although the hall is heated from below by the fiery pits of damnation, I miss the warmth of the fire as I pad toward his throne. The usual furs I wear have been replaced with a t-shirt and a pair of denim jeans. There not my usual thing, but Mavi’s been hounding me to wear them. Something about my arse looking tight in the manmade material.

  “We’ve only just come out of a major war with renegade demon fractions.” I continue halting at the steps, leading to where he’s seated. My loyalty bound through centuries of service, he’s always valued my council. “The eleven seals still haven’t been secured properly, and it’s so cold outside it feels more like the north fucking pole than Hell.”