The Devil Of Oz Page 4

  Chapter two

  Annabelle’s hand flew to her throat, and with trembling fingers she clawed the skin, struggling to force air down into her burning lungs. Her head swam and tiny black dots danced across her vision as fear reached into her chest, grabbed her heart and squeezed.

  Breathe girl, breathe. Oh no, don’t you dare faint. Come on, you’ve done the club scene and you’ve faced weirdos before, her sensible, practical side reminded her as she waggled her manicured finger in her face. That did the trick and instantly the adrenalin kicked in, clearing her mind.

  Her eyes flicked around, apart from her Bimmer, there were no other vehicles. So where did he come from and how did he get here? In the pit of her belly an iceberg formed and in spite of the day’s heat, her flesh broke out in goose-bumps.

  Sweat traced the curve of her spine and her underarms and palms moistened. Her eyes stung, and she swiped her hands across them, not giving a shit that her makeup was most likely being smeared into an exact semblance of a demented clown’s face-paint.

  “Come now Annabelle my darling, there’s no need to fear me. I’m not here to harm you. Au contraire sweet one, we’re old friends, you and I. Don’t you remember?” Tilting his head he stroked his lip with one long elegant finger. “You don’t remember me at all do you?” At her wide-eyed look he turned away. Shoving his hands in his pockets he glanced up at the crows which had settled onto the mottled limb of the gumtree and were intently staring at him with shining ebony eyes.

  Annabelle struggled to understand what this freak was saying. ‘Old friends?’ He was seriously deluded, quite possibly dangerous, and nervously she scanned her eyes sideways looking for help. The roadway which led to and from here was a barren, bitumen-desert, there was nothing to be seen in either direction for miles. It was just her, the crows and Mr. Totally-Mad.

  With her heart beating like a hummingbird’s wings she turned back to him and as soon as she saw his attentions drift to the tree, she took a cautious step backwards, completely forgetting about the chair. Her shoe brushed up against it, and in her ears the clink it made may as well have been a cannonball fired into a wall of cymbals.

  The warbling, trills and caws of the birds faded away, leaving a great gaping hole which the sound of her heel striking the chair leg filled. Her scalp prickled and freezing mid-step she held her breath, waiting for him to pounce on her.

  He was aware of her movements, but he wasn’t concerned. He’d waited so long for this moment and soon his long, lonely existence would come to an end.

  Allowing himself a smile he loosened his tie, and like a burlesque artist with a feather boa he slid it from around his neck before carelessly shoving it into his pocket. Undoing his top buttons he exhaled with pleasure as the warm breeze caressed his skin, running invisible fingers through the dark curls which adorned the base of his throat and peeked out from within the V of his shirt.

  “That’s better, now where were we? Ah yes, you and me,” he crooned silkily as he turned his face to her.

  Swallowing her fear Annabelle stepped around the chair and running her fingers along the hot duco she inched her way backwards. Rounding the front she narrowed her eyes and studied him. He was very good looking in a young, dark and menacing bad-boy-way. Standing at roughly six two, he was broad shouldered with cropped black hair and mahogany eyes so dark, they were like looking into two shots of espresso. Even from this distance she saw them turn black as they steadily gazed at her.

  Surely I’d remember someone this distinctive, she thought, the wheels and cogs in her head spinning wildly. And despite her fear, she had to admit he was gorgeous. Just my luck to finally meet someone sexy and he turns out to be a psycho.

  He silently registered her undisguised appraisal of him and his finely sculpted lips quirked up as he caught her last thoughts. Raising a hand he scuffed it backwards and forwards over his short black growth before dropping it and casually crossing his arms.

  She was sure she didn’t know him at all, yet the longer she looked the more familiar he seemed. Deep in her mind’s corridors, long-forgotten memories linked arms and waltzed around waiting for that wondrous moment when they could be set free.

  Her eyes flicked over his arms noticing the bulge of his biceps and the dark hairs which peeked out from beneath his cuffs.

  “Who are you, and what makes you think we know each other?” she demanded, her fear now replaced with a sense of outrage and the added courage that a car body between them gave her.

  He smiled. “Now that’s the Annabelle I know. The feisty, ballsy girl. I much prefer her she’s….”

  She raised her brows. “Look, I’m very sorry, but you must be mistaken Mr…?” She frowned. “You have me at a disadvantage, you know my name and yet you haven’t done me the courtesy of supplying yours. That’s not very gentlemanly of you, is it?” She thought that if she could just keep him talking, then the chances of someone turning up would be more in her favour.

  He took a step closer and Annabelle’s stomach clenched painfully.

  Raising his hands in supplication he bent and righted her overturned chair before retrieving her dropped cup and placing it down on the seat.

  He was pensive for a moment as he studied the army of scurrying meat-ants which already swarmed over the spilt coffee, studiously collecting the tiny sugary droplets.

  Raising his gaze once more he fixed her in the spotlight of his eyes and noticed with satisfaction that she didn’t move or drop her head. Glancing down he saw the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she waited for his answer.

  “Very well, I think that’s a fair deal. My friends call me Lucifer,” he said in a smooth voice.

  Annabelle felt the blood drain from her head and a wave of dizziness washed over her. Dropping her hands onto the hot bonnet she steadied herself as her knees trembled beneath her, threatening to give out.

  “No, Lucifer doesn’t exist. He’s a fable, a story made up to frighten little children and scare pious folk,” she breathed.

  He tipped his head back and gave a delighted chuckle. “Oh my lovely, I’m sorry to pop your bubble, but look at me, I’m real enough.”

  He rubbed his chin and looked at her, and she saw his eyes sparkle.

  “I know, you need a demonstration don’t you? I don’t usually do this, I don’t like a show-off. But for you….” His voice trailed off as he spun around and with a subtle wave of his hand he turned day to night.

  Annabelle gasped as she was suddenly plunged into a darkness so complete she felt blind. It was terrifying not being able to see anything -- him. She swallowed and silently said a prayer to the Archangels to watch over her. As she did, a low silky chuckle drifted through the velvety darkness. It seemed to come from everywhere at once, enveloping her.

  It was like the familiar touch of a lover’s fingers on sensitive skin and to her disgust she reacted to it, helpless as the sleeping-tiger-of-lust unfurled low in her belly. She closed her eyes and moaned as it slinked its way over her hips and padded up her spine.

  Oh no, Annabelle did you just moan? she yelled at herself, feeling tears of horror, shame and desire spill down her cheeks. Swiping them away she took a deep breath and counted to ten before letting it out steadily and calmly. She’d remembered reading somewhere that deep breathing helped to centre and control wild feelings.

  In the cover of the dark he smiled broadly. Her sweet little moan had sent sparks of pleasure through him and ignited his blood. He didn’t mind having his ego stroked now and then amongst other things, and it’d been quite a dry spell in both those departments lately.

  “So does that prove it or do you need more,” he asked as he clicked his fingers and reinstated the sunlight. “By the way, those Angels won’t help you, stubborn winged bastards. Look what they did to me, their own brother.”