CHAPTER ONE

BLOOD.

It’s everywhere. A dark red pool spreads across the floor, growing larger with every second. It clings to my skin, my hair, and my feet. The metallic tang fills my mouth, the sharp scent stings my nose, and the sticky heat presses against me. I’m drowning in it, suffocating under its weight.

No! Stop!

I try to scream, but no sound comes out. I struggle to move, but the ropes dig into my flesh, keeping me bound no matter how much I fight.

Her screams pierce the air—raw, guttural, and filled with agony. They tear into me, leaving my mind shredded by her pain.

He raises the blade one final time. The puddle becomes an endless sea, its waves pulling me under—

I wake up shouting his name, drenched in cold sweat.

For a moment, I’m disoriented, lost. Then the truth crashes down on me.

He’s never coming back.

I know that.

---

I was seventeen when I met him.

Seventeen and completely infatuated with Ace.

“Ella, come on, this is so boring,” Jenny complains as we sit on the bleachers, watching the football game. Football isn’t exactly my thing, but I pretend to care—it’s the only way I get to see him. Out there on the field, practicing every day.

Of course, I’m not the only one keeping an eye on Ace. He’s the star quarterback and hands-down the most attractive guy around—at least in our little Chicago suburb, Oak Lawn, Illinois.

“It’s not boring,” I reply. “Football’s actually kind of exciting.”

Jenny rolls her eyes. “Sure. Why don’t you just go talk to him already? You’re not shy. Why not make him notice you?”

I shrug. Ace and I come from completely different worlds. He’s surrounded by cheerleaders who can’t get enough of him, and it’s pretty obvious he’s into tall blondes—not short brunettes like me.

For now, it’s enough to admire him from a distance. I know what this is—pure physical attraction. Just hormones, nothing more. I don’t even know if I’d like Ace as a person. But every time he walks by, my heart skips a beat, and I feel a warmth that makes me squirm.

I'M SEVENTEEN YEARS OLD WHEN I FIRST MEET HIM.

Seventeen and crazy about Ace.

"Ella, come on, this is boring," Jenny says as we sit on the bleachers watching the game. Football. Something I know nothing about, but pretend I love because that's where I see him. Out there on that field, practicing every day.

I'm not the only girl watching Ace, of course. He's the quarterback and the hottest guy on the planet or at least in the Chicago suburb of Oak Lawn, Illinois.

"It's not boring," I tell her. "Football is a lot of fun."

Jenny rolls her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Just go talk to him already. You're not shy. Why don't you just make him notice you?"

I shrug. Ace and I don't run in the same circles. He's got cheerleaders climbing all over him, and I've been watching him long enough to know that he goes for tall blond girls, not short brunettes.

Besides, for now it's kind of fun to just enjoy the attraction. And I know that's what this feeling is. Lust. Hormones, pure and simple. I have no idea

I'd like Ace as a person, but I certainly love how he looks without his shirt. Whenever he walks by, I feel my heart beating faster from excitement. I feel warm inside, and I want to squirm in my seat.

I also dream about him. Sexy dreams, sensual dreams, where he holds my hand, touches my face, kisses me. Our bodies touch, rub against each other. Our clothes come off.

I try to imagine what sex with Ace would be like.

Last year, when I was dating Finn, we nearly went all the way, but then I found out he slept with another girl at a party while drunk. He groveled profusely when I confronted him about it, but I couldn't trust him again and we broke up. Now I'm much more careful about the guys I date, although I know not all of them are like Finn.

Ace might be, though. He's just too popular not to be a player. Still, if there's anybody I'd want to have my first time with, it's definitely Ace.

"Let's go out tonight," Jenny says. "Just us girls. We can go to Chicago, celebrate your birthday."

"My birthday is not for another week," I remind her, even though I know she's got the date marked on her calendar.

"So what? We can get a head start."

I grin. She's always so eager to party. "I don't know. What if they throw us out again? Those IDs are just not that good-"

"We'll go to another place. It doesn't have to be Aristotle."

Aristotle is by far the coolest club in the city. But Jenny was right-there were others.

"Okay," I say. "Let's do it. Let's get a head start.”

Jenny PICKS ME UP AT 9AM

She's dressed for clubbing-dark skinny jeans, a sparkly black tube-top, and over-the-knee high-heeled boots. Her blond hair is perfectly smooth and straight, falling down her back like a highlighted waterfall.

In contrast, I'm still wearing my sneakers. My clubbing shoes I hide in the backpack that I intend to leave in Jenny's car. A thick sweater hides the sexy top I'm wearing. No makeup and my long brown hair in a ponytail.

I leave the house like that to avoid any suspicion. I tell my parents I'm going to hang out with Jenny at a friend's house. My mom smiles and tells me to have fun.

Now that I'm almost eighteen, I don't have a curfew anymore. Well, I probably do, but it's not a formal one. As long as I come home before my parents start freaking out or at least if I let them know where I am it's all good.

Once I get into Jenny's car, I begin my transformation.

Off goes the thick sweater, revealing the slinky tank-top I have on underneath. I wore a push-up bra to maximize my somewhat-undersized assets. The bra straps are cleverly designed to look cute, so I'm not embarrassed to have them show. I don't have cool boots like Jenny's, but I did manage to sneak out my nicest pair of black heels. They add about four inches to my height. I need every single one of those inches, so I put on the shoes.

Next, I pull out my makeup bag and pull down the windshield visor, so I can get access to the mirror.

Familiar features stare back at me. Large brown eyes and clearly defined black eyebrows dominate my small face. Finn once told me that I look exotic, and I can kind of see that. Even though I'm only a quarter Latino, my skin always looks lightly tanned and my eyelashes are unusually long. Fake lashes, Jenny calls them, but they're entirely real.

I don't have a problem with my looks, although I often wish I were taller. It's those Mexican genes of mine. My abuela was petite and so am I,

even though both of my parents are of average height. I wouldn't care, except Ace likes tall girls. I don't think he even sees me in the hallway; I'm literally below his eye level.

Sighing, I put on lip gloss and some eye shadow. I don't go crazy with makeup because simple works best on me.

Jenny cranks up the radio, and the latest pop songs fill the car. I grin and start singing along with Rihanna. Jenny joins me, and now we're both belting out S&M lyrics.

Before I know it, we arrive at the club.

We walk in like we own the place. Jenny gives the bouncer a big smile, and we flash our IDs. They let us through, no problem.

We've never been to this club before. It's in an older, slightly rundown part of downtown Chicago.

"How did you find this place?" I yell at Jenny, shouting to be heard above the music.

"Martell told me about it," she yells back, and I roll my eyes.

Martell is Jenny's ex-boyfriend. They broke up when he started acting weird, but they still talk for some reason. I think he's into drugs these days. I'm not sure, and Jenny won't tell me out of some misplaced loyalty to him. He's the king of shady, and the fact that we're here on his recommendation is not super-comforting.

But whatever. Sure, the area outside is not the best, but the music is good and the crowd is a nice mix of people.

We're here to party and that's exactly what we do for the next hour here on his recommendation is not super-comforting.

But whatever. Sure, the area outside is not the best, but the music is good and the crowd is a nice mix of people.

We're here to party, and that's exactly what we do for the next hour.

Jenny gets a couple of guys to buy us shots. We don't have more than one drink each. Jenny because she has to drive us home. And me because I don't metabolize alcohol well. We may be young, but we're not stupid.

After the shots, we dance. The two guys who bought us drinks dance with us, but we gradually migrate away from them. They're not that cute.

Jenny finds a group of college-age hotties, and we sidle up to them. She

strikes up a conversation with one of them, and I smile, watching her in action. She's good at this flirting business.

In the meantime, my bladder tells me I need to visit the ladies' room. So I leave them and go.

On my way back, I asked the bartender for a glass of water. I am thirsty after all the dancing.

He gives it to me, and I greedily gulp it down. When I'm done, I put down the glass and look up.

Straight into a pair of piercing blue eyes.

He's sitting on the other side of the bar, about ten feet away. And he's staring at me.

I stare back. I can't help it. He's probably the most handsome man I've ever seen.

His hair is dark and curls slightly. His face is hard and masculine, each feature perfectly symmetrical. Straight dark eyebrows over those strikingly pale eyes. A mouth that could belong to a fallen angel.

I suddenly feel warm as I imagine that mouth touching my skin, my lips. If I were prone to blushing, I would've been beet-red.

He gets up and walks toward me, still holding me with his gaze. He walks leisurely. Calmly. He's completely sure of himself. And why not? He's gorgeous, and he knows it.

As he approaches, I realize that he's a large man. Tall and well built. I don't know how old he is, but I'm guessing he's closer to thirty than twenty. A man, not a boy.

He stands next to me, and I have to remember to breathe.

"What's your name?" he asks softly. His voice somehow carries above the music, its deeper notes audible even in this noisy environment.

"Ella," I say quietly, looking up at him. I am absolutely mesmerized, and I'm pretty sure he knows it.

He smiles. His sensuous lips part, revealing even white teeth. "Ella. like that."

He doesn't introduce himself, so I gather my courage and ask, "What's your name?"

"You can call me Lucifer," he says, and I watch his lips moving. I've never been so-fascinated by a man's mouth before.

"How old are you, Ella?" he asks next.

I blink. "Twenty-one."

His expression darkens. "Don't lie to me."

"Almost eighteen," I admit reluctantly. I hope he doesn't tell the bartender and get me kicked out of here.

He nods, like I confirmed his suspicions. And then he raises his hand and touches my face. Lightly, gently. His thumb rubs against my lower lip, as though he's curious about its texture.

I'm so shocked that I just stand there. Nobody has ever done that before, touched me so casually, so possessively. I feel hot and cold at the same time, and a tendril of fear snakes down my spine. There is no hesitation in his actions. No asking for permission, no pausing to see if I would let him touch me.

He just touches me. Like he has the right to do so. Like I belong to him.

I draw in a shaky breath and back away. "I have to go." I whisper, and he nods again, watching me with an inscrutable expression on his beautiful face.

I know he's letting me go, and I feel pathetically grateful-because something deep inside me senses that he could've easily gone further, that he doesn't play by the normal rules.

That he's probably the most dangerous creature I've ever met.

I turn and make my way through the crowd. My hands are trembling, and my heart is pounding in my throat.

I need to leave, so I grab Jenny and make her drive me home.

As we're walking out of the club, I look back and I see him again. He's still staring at me.

There is a dark promise in his gaze-something that makes me shiver.