Prologue
June 2018 (Six Months After the Deal)
RemiGoldingshouldn’thavedone that last line of coke.
He shook out his hands, trying to expel the jerky sensations rioting through his body.His publicist, Jillian, shot him a ‘get your shit together’ look.It was only the barest of glances, her eyes darting up from the phone camera that she was yammering into as she gave his introduction for the livestream.
Remi flicked his lip ring back and forth with his tongue and tried to ignore the taste of gasoline from the residual coke trickling down his throat.
The top of his mouth was numb.
Hereallyshouldn’t have done that last line.
Jillian had positioned him strategically in front of his tour bus.His band’s name was scrawled in big letters just over his shoulder, announcing to everyone who saw them driving down the road, saw them parked at a concert festival, saw them on this goddamn livestream—they’d done it.
Tilted Haze had finally made it big.His wildest dreams came true, and they were in the middle of their first sold-out stadium tour.
Jillian stepped up and aligned the phone camera toward him.
She glared at him over the phone, though her tone was sickly sweet as she said, “Remi, the first question that was submitted by your fans was…to what do you attribute the success of your band?”
The deal I made with a demon, he thought, but instead said, “It all comes down to luck.Our band practiced and worked hard and got a lucky break when we were seen by our record company, Sprites Records.”
“And what advice would you give to bands just starting out?”
Don’t make a deal with a demon, he thought, but said, “Keep working hard and don’t give up.Even if you think it isn’t working, you can never know when one night will change everything for you.”
Just like it did for Remi that night in New Orleans.The night he met Skye.Found out she wasn’t just a figment of his dreams.The night she showed him what future could be possible for him if he’d only sell his soul.He shook his head.No, the night sheliedabout that future.
“If you could go back and change anything, what would it be and why?”Jillian asked.
He looked into the distance, squinting against the blaring sun.Sweat prickled on his upper lip.His heart raced.The harsh rays of light made him feel as if he were melting.Like God was staring down and smiting him.Like hellfire was surrounding him, burning him, torturing him, but never giving him the relief of death.
He’d never get that relief—never get out of this.
He should have known it the second he’d seen Skye’s gleaming red irises.When the corners of her mouth pulled into that devilishly sexy smirk of hers.She was promising more than a life sentence—an eternity—and he’d taken it.
He’d sold his soul to a demon, but would he go back and change it?Erase the last six months of torture and pain that he and Skye had inflicted on each other?
Maybe it was a side effect of no longer having a soul that he’d developed an addiction to the misery they made together.
It’d been three weeks since she left, and he was hungry for another fix of her.He wanted her back yelling at him.Wanted her back taunting him.Wanted her back ruining his life.
Just wanted her back.
Remi shifted his gaze back to the phone.He could have blamed it on the bliss of the coke hitting his brain cells when he said, “I wouldn’t change a damn thing.”
But deep down he knewit was the cold, hard truth.
Chapter One
January 2018 (One Week Before the Deal)
Theblood-orangemoonhunghigh in the sky, casting an ominous glow over the brick roads of New Orleans.Skye knew better than to interpret it as the end of times.There was no merciful Lord coming to save those who called.
A chilled wind snaked its way between the Creole townhouses.Their cast-iron balconies were empty of the usual party-goers.It might not have been the end of times, but dread shivered down Skye’s spine.She couldn’t help but feel the impending doom lying heavy over the city.She put her hands in her pockets, pulling her leather jacket closer to her body.The air was warm, but never as warm as it was in Hell.It always took a few days to adjust.She called upon the flames that lived in her veins to heat herself up and walked faster down the sidewalk, the heels of her thigh-high boots clicking on the cement.Instinct drove her forward, the call of her prey.It’d raged hot under her skin when she read the band flyer stapled to a telephone pole outside the hotel she was staying at.
In most respects, it was just like any other flyer.It would have been torn down in a few days, only the corners left stapled to the pock-marked wooden pole.
