Demon Lies: The Nora Kane Series, #1

By Cindy Tanner

Face the truth or accept the lies?

Long ago I accepted that I would never feel like I fit in, always yearning for something I couldn't place, I kept my nose in a book instead of participating in the world around me. Feeling like something was missing. Little did I know what was missing would come in the form of two sinfully sensual demons. They challenge everything I thought I knew and expose me to an entirely new world. One filled with unknown dangers and unimaginable power.

A war is brewing between Heaven and Hell and I just might be the key. The problem is I don't know if I can trust the words of the demon's that may want to possess more than just my body.

Demon Lies is a reverse harem, meaning our lucky heroine doesn't have to choose. She gets to have her cake and eat it too.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cindy Tanner
• Release date: Mar 11, 2023
• ISBN: 9780999184288

Cindy Tanner

Jacob Tanner is now 15 years old. He currently lives in Auburn Ks. and attends Manhattan Virtual School. He is passionate about animals. He is involved in clubs at Tanganyika Wildlife Park in Goddard Ks., as well as the Topeka Zoo in Topeka Ks. He was president of his middle school eco club at the Topeka Zoo. Jacob also works at Hidden Hill Farms. He enjoys attending youth group at his church, learning to play percussion instruments, and doing CrossFit. Jacob really enjoys hanging out with some of the friends mentioned in the book, building Lego, and writing scripts for YouTube videos.

Book preview

Chapter 1

I ignore the chime of the doorbell. Rain still pelts against the store window, making it more likely it is someone wanting to escape the weather rather than a customer.

Until someone clears their throat.

Sorry, I just got to the good part. Heat spreads across my face as I lay down my book, sliding my coffee receipt from this morning to keep my page.

Sex?

My jaw goes slack as I look up at the customer, who is gorgeous. Tall, pale-skinned, with dark hair, pierced, and wearing a deep red three-piece suit. He looks like an alternative billionaire bad boy. That is a book I would love to read.

A smirk turns up the corners of his lips, bringing my attention to the hoop at the corner of his mouth. I wonder what that would feel like pressed against my lips?

As if he can read my mind, the tip of his tongue flicks the ring as he clears his throat again.

Oh, yes, sorry. What was your question?

His smirk widens into a grin, showing a set of white fangs that makes my heartbeat speed up.

You finally got to the sex in your book? He nods toward the book I’d set on the counter. Something in my brain shorted out when his deep voice said, sex. My mind instantly envisions our naked bodies wrapped around each other as I wonder what it would be like to get bitten with fangs.

I clear my throat. The heroine has won over the alpha wolf but stumbled across the pack’s most lethal assassin. The chemistry with the assassin is amazing. At my answer, he arches a pierced eyebrow, his ice-blue eyes locking onto me for a minute. I gulp. I love your outfit. Is it an original character? I love cosplay and participate as much as a broke graduate student can afford.

He stays silent, making me wonder if I have offended him. Maybe it isn’t a costume but his style.

I meant that as a compliment, I blurt, continuing to rock the awk. Your fangs are so realistic. I ordered a few sets but haven’t found a good fit.

Silence fills the space, broken only by rain and the traffic outside. I try not to fidget as his gaze takes in my messy bun before lingering on my chest for a second before giving me another smirk at the Thou Shalt Not Try Me printed across my shirt.

I’m looking for a book. His voice is a sinfully deep timber. He could make millions doing audiobooks. I’d listen to him reading a dishwasher manual.

You’ve definitely come to the right place. I let out a nervous laugh. What genre?

What’s your favorite? His question sounds sensual.

What are your plans for the evening? Because that conversation would take hours. You can’t just ask a bookworm for recommendations without being prepared for a long conversation. Our newest releases are kept in the front, I say, pointing to the shelves in front of the store’s windows. Non-Fiction and self-help take up the middle. Most of my favorites can be found in the back. Paranormal romance, sci-fi, and horror. Our selection of manga isn’t large, but I’ve been working on my boss to stay up with the popular ones—which are really just my favorites since I do the ordering. I laugh again, but it comes out as a snort.

Kill me now.

You read horror?

I read everything, but we have some really good horror in the used section. If you want to follow me… I walk toward the back. We have all the classics, of course, Bram Stoker, Mary Shelly, Stephen King, Alma Katsu. We also have a good selection of indie authors. I look over my shoulder, noticing that under the lights his hair isn’t black like I thought, but a dark blue. Of course, that realization takes my focus, and I ungracefully trip over my feet. It’s his hand gripping my elbow that steadies me.

Thanks. I feel my face heat again. I’ve never been attracted to anyone like this before. I haven’t seen him around. Is he new in town or just passing by? Should I ask for his number? Or maybe I could ask if he wanted to sign up for our newsletter. Then I could scout out his social media and make sure he doesn’t already have a partner.

Or innocently stalk him online while letting his face be the hero of whatever book I’m reading.

Damn, that sounded sad, even to me. Okay, Nora. It’s time to get a social life.

The doorbell chimes again, and I can’t decide if it’s a sign not to make this even more awkward by attempting to flirt or if the universe is just trying to cock-block me.

I need to check on them, I say, waving a finger toward the doorway just as we reach my favorite corner of the store. The faded red chair in the corner is the perfect reading spot. Feel free to look around. I’ll be right back.

Leaving Mr. Tall and Mysterious to browse the shelves, I only make it two steps before a sharp pain radiates through my chest, ripping a cry from my throat as my knees buckle. It feels like my heart is being ripped apart. Fear and panic fill me as I fall face-first to the floor. The pain spreads through my entire body as another shrill cry rips from my throat before everything goes dark.

Chapter 2

I hear voices as awareness seeps in. I’m face down on the worn carpet of the bookstore. The fibers are itchy and damp against my cheek, forcing me to roll to my back, which makes the voices stop.

No, not voices, just one.

That deep, sinful one that made my thighs quiver.

Blinking up at the water-stained ceiling tiles, I take stock and remember the excruciating pain.

No pain or stiffness lingers. I feel fine.

I’m no longer looking up at the stain shaped like a poorly drawn rabbit. Black eyes stare down at me from a face that isn’t fully human—cheeks too angular, with a broad nose and a wide mouth that opens to emit a low growl, showing sharp jagged teeth.

Forcing my body into action, I try to crawl backward, my Chucks slipping as I scream.

With another growl, he approaches, closing the distance with one step. His wide shoulders nearly touch the shelves on either side. I pull a deep breath into my lungs, ready to scream again, but his massive hand closes around my throat and lifts me to my feet, slamming me against a bookshelf. Pain shoots down my back as books tumble to the ground.

Trembling, I try to balance on the tips of my toes, my hands gripping his wrist as I struggle to drag air into my lungs. I freeze as the black of his irises spread, bleeding out until his entire eye is eclipsed in obsidian. Blinking as my vision swims, I realize that contacts don’t do that.

How is she alive? that sinfully deep voice murmurs, the hand at my throat flexes, making me croak as tears slip down my cheek.

He isn’t alternative or cosplaying. The man cutting off my air supply looks every bit of a demon. Shit. Are they in a cult? Do I have a concussion? I decide to digest everything after—when I’m safe. I just need to get to safety, and soon, because if I pass out, it’s game over.

Keep her quiet. Blue Hair sounds inconvenienced by my pulse.

I start kicking and thrashing. Dropping my hands from the one still wrapped around my throat, my fingers brush against a hardcover book. With a clumsy hold, I grab it and swing it against the side of the demon guy’s face, making him grunt. The sound is more annoyed than pained as I keep hoping the pen truly is mightier than the sword.

Stop fighting. Blue Hair’s tone is empty of its earlier charm.

I ignore him as the hand on my throat tightens, completely cutting off my air supply. The book slips through my fingers. The precarious balance I had is gone. My feet dangle in the air, and he’s lifting me higher, single handedly, like I’m not packing a little more than the freshman fifteen.

How is he so strong?

The creature choking me snarls when my foot makes contact with his crotch. The grip on my neck tightens so much that I think he’s going to break something that I need to not break. I kick again, but he twists, pulling me against his chest. His hand leaves my neck, and I gulp air into my burning lungs. In that moment, I’m so grateful for breath I don’t notice his arms pinning mine to my sides in an unwanted bear hug, my feet still not touching the floor.

Once my breathing evens out, I find Blue Hair watching me with a curious expression. Like I’ve surprised him. If I wasn’t sure I was about to die, I would label this a swoon-worthy moment as he approaches. My heart beats so hard that my chest feels like it’s vibrating. Once he is close enough, I pull up my knees and kick both feet against his chest as I scream, ignoring the pain in my battered throat.

The man holding me doesn’t even sway against my shift in weight as Blue Hair catches my calves. Trapped and helpless, I continue to struggle, refusing to give up while it’s still possible for me to fight.

Except Blue Hair morphs. His shoulders broaden as he grows taller. That blue hair darkens to black to match his darkening skin. His ears elongate, not pointed like the fae in movies, but almost bat-like with jewelry hanging in them. Which makes me notice that the lip ring is gone.

Once more, we fall into a still silence, and I notice that I can’t hear the rain or traffic outside the store. We are too far from the windows to be seen. Still, I open my mouth again to scream.

No one can hear you, Princess. His voice sounds menacing, or maybe it’s just the fangs. What I admired before is lethal now. White runes appear against his skin, emanating a supernatural glow.

The hairs on my arms stand up as the air in the room shifts, becoming charged with something that feels like I’ve dived into water and sunk too deep. Pressure builds, but suddenly, I feel weightless.

Chapter 3

My eyelids feel heavy as I open them with a yawn.

I must have fallen asleep at work.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

But I’m not sitting in my favorite reading chair. The fabric touching my skin is soft, not scratchy. Sitting up, I realize I’m not in a chair at all but in a bed surrounded by silk sheets.

Things flood back. Black eyes, fangs. None of it was a dream.

Before I can make a sound, a hand covers my mouth.

If you start screaming again, I’ll rip out your voice box, comes a voice from beside and above me.

How did I think that voice was attractive? It is terrifying. At least the blue hair is back. His hand stays over my mouth until he seems satisfied I’m not going to burst into hysterics.

Where does the lip ring go? I ask, making him pause and give me a confused look. Probably not what I should have said, but I am curious.

You mean when I do this? One second, one of the most attractive men I’ve ever seen is in front of me, and in the next, what is in his place is only man-like and dark. Now, in better lighting, I can tell a lot of the facial features are similar.

I thought they were veneers or those fake fangs you can get at Halloween, I mumble, wondering if he would look more or less intimidating if he kept his hair blue. Probably less. Somehow, a blue-haired demon wouldn’t be as scary. White markings lighten his brow, but now, they don’t glow.

Why do you make yourself shorter? Don’t all guys want to be tall?

Let me amend my previous statement. Scream or ask pointless questions, and I’ll rip out your voice box. His voice sounds deeper.

My hand goes to my throat. The memory of how raw it felt from screaming and being choked, and of the pain in my back from being slammed against the bookshelves, is still fresh. But the pain is gone. Nothing hurts.

I lay back on the bed.

Shit. I’m dead.

Did I have a heart attack? I was adopted. My moms got me some preventative medical testing since they didn’t know my family’s medical history. Maybe I had an undiagnosed heart condition? I was only twenty-four. I didn’t exercise, but I wasn’t lazy either. I ate well. Most of the time. I had curves, but I was healthy.

How did I end up here? I don’t bother sitting back up to see if this is a stupid question. Touching my throat, I wait for an answer.

We brought you. A new voice answers, making me sit up and turn to find a man behind me. Tall broad. Lacking fully black eyes. He looks normal. Muscular, short-trimmed hair. Dark brown eyes that look so innocent. He has a jock-next-door kind of charm. Almost.

You look a lot less terrifying now. The changes in demon guy are more subtle than in Blue Hair. Do you have names, or am I just going to have to keep calling you by your nicknames?

A growl makes me focus back on Blue Hair as the other man shakes his head.

I don’t know about you, but I want to know what’s she calling you, Demon Guy says.

Blue Hair, I spit out. I know it’s not original, but I thought I was being kidnapped and sacrificed to a cult at the time. I panicked under the pressure.

Silence falls as I wait for someone to rip out my voice box or tell me what’s going on. I take in the room. Dark wood paneling. Really bougie-looking furniture that looks straight out of a Restoration Hardware catalog. Not what I would have pegged Hell to look like.

What have I done to deserve Hell? I didn’t attend church, but I picked up litter and helped little old ladies in the grocery store. I’m sure I committed a lot of little sins, but I wasn’t a murderer. I didn’t kick puppies. So maybe I wasn’t heaven material, but there must be a middle ground.

I’m not a bad person. I trap and release spiders. Both men stare at me. I might be a bit rusty on my biblical verses, but I’m pretty sure I have the part about demons being in Hell, not Heaven. So, I’d just like it to go on record that I object to being in Hell.

Moving faster than I can track, I’m pinned down to the bed. My pulse races, and I try to bite back the panic.

This isn’t Hell, Blue Hair snarls, but I would be more than happy to make it a painful stay. No more questions. It’s time you answer mine. How are you still here? This close, his teeth are more scary than sexy, and I did think they were sexy in the bookstore. Vampires are one of my favorite paranormal heroes. Tied with shifters.

Here, as in I’m not dead? I ask for clarification but am only answered with silence. You two aren’t cosplayers. And I have been kidnapped. I don’t even try to fight the tremble in my body. Oh, shit. I’m in trouble. I don’t have money. My moms don’t either. Not like ransom money. Just comfortable middle-class money. Like we take vacations, but always use coupons.

A hand wraps around my neck squeezing, cutting off my words. It should hurt. It should make me more scared. Instead, my body rebels by rolling my hips and making this whole situation awkward as I try to dry hump the demon on top of me. Only I would find a way to make my kidnappers feel uncomfortable.

I didn’t mean to do that. Only I want to do it again. Who knew that being manhandled by demons would unlock a new kink?

You’re wasting time, Demon Guy says, his voice gruff. Maybe you messed up the spell.

The man still pinning me down sits back on his haunches, keeping my legs pinned and looking utterly offended. In another scenario, the expression would be comical. I did not.

Then you know what that means.

The man above me looks down at me with disgust as I fight the urge to roll my hips again.

I’m Judgement, Demon Guys says. You can call Blue Hair Sebastian.

Judgement, I repeat his name, and my face burns from embarrassment. What is wrong with me? Maybe it’s brain damage. What was the spell supposed to do? I keep my focus on Judgement and try not to think about