Demons & Djinn: Nine Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Novels Featuring Demons, Djinn, and other Bad Boys of the Underworld Page 30

  The idea should have turned her stomach, but Asta thought of those humans she’d seen in passionate embraces over the last century. That connection, that explosion of feeling — it seemed to move beyond crass sensation into something divine. Her traitorous mind substituted the human female for herself, arched backward, supported by another’s arms, every nerve ending alight, floating away in sinful sensation. Yes, she was tempted, but not by this creature. Or was she?

  A century among the humans in this dangerous corporeal form had clearly been too long. A wild week sampling food and drink was one thing, but sexual stimulation was another. No, she had to draw the line somewhere. Just one more week, and then she would be free from such temptation, free from such thoughts.

  Then she’d never get the chance. Never ever have the opportunity to kiss someone. Shaking her head to free herself from the thoughts and disturbing images, she scrambled to think of a suitable rebuke.

  “You’ll be kissing my toe as I soccer kick your nose into the back of your head.” Soccer kick? Yeah, she’d been hanging around these humans far too long.

  I might like that. I’m a demon, after all. Rough stuff really turns me on.

  “Well, get ready to get turned on.”

  Wait, that probably wasn’t the right thing to say. The rat-demon confirmed it by laughing. Great, now he probably thought she was even more of an idiot.

  With a deep breath, Asta gritted her teeth and began moving through the throng of rats. They shrieked at her as she shoved them aside, biting her hands until she felt blood drip through her fingers. She could do this. They were just animals. She could prove to the odious demon that she wasn’t a silly fool by crawling through a hoard of rats and putting her fist into his smug face. Easy.

  Not so easy. Rats tugged at her pants, tore sharp teeth into her arms and waist. Still, she pushed down the panic and moved forward. Just a few more feet. The demon’s grinning face and beady red eyes were right in front of her. Just a few more feet and she could lay her hands on the arrogant sot.

  A rat grabbed her hair, tugging until she felt strands tearing free from her scalp. Not my hair! There was minimal physical pain, and no damage to her spirit being, but the thought of a filthy rat chewing on her hair was more than the angel could take. Asta jumped to her feet, screaming and whirling as she grabbed the rats off her hair and clothing and flung them against the wall. Their bodies made a sickening thump as they hit, but she had no time to feel regret for either her irrational display or the death of innocent, blameless creatures.

  My hair, my hair! She spun until she was free of them then leaned against the dumpster, breathing heavy. Red eyes surrounded her, and Asta glared at them, her composure shot. One move and she’d blast them all into oblivion, her moral code be damned.

  The demon shed his rat form, rising to his feet and shooing the rats away from Asta. They fled obediently, darting into nooks and crannies in the building wall and along the fence line until the only two beings in the alleyway were Asta and the demon.

  She should have blown him to bits, should have dove at him, wrestled him to the ground and ripped his head from his neck, but all she could do was try to catch her breath and keep from bursting into tears. Some angel she was, some powerful enforcer. A century of exemplary service wiped out in one evening.

  “Get out of my city and stay out. If I catch you here again, I’ll kill you.” Her voice wavered, giving the ultimatum an edge of desperation.

  The demon cocked his head to the side, a surprised look on his face. “Oh now, surely you’re not giving up so quickly. We’ve got all night, and I’d hoped you’d play a bit longer. No more rats. I promise.”

  Play? She’d freaked out, dancing around like a junkie on crack. She’d probably killed several of those rats. Tonight had to have been the worst night of her two-and-a-half-million-year life, and she wasn’t about to compound the damage by playing his game. She was done. He’d won.

  And he’s naked. That stupid, snarky voice inside her head teased her.

  He was. Asta got an eyeful of what had been under that expensive suit. The gray eyes were shadowed, glinting with red lights. Full lips curved into a smile that was both mocking and bold. Her eyes roved downward over broad shoulders and muscular arms. Not the slim form that usually appeared to advantage in suits — this demon was ripped. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on his toned stomach and narrow hips. She looked lower, down to . . . hmmm. He hadn’t needed those tube socks at all.

  Oh no. Not going there. Not going there at all.

  “Like what you see?”

  Asta felt her face heat up. “Do you lack the basic skills to make clothing, or are you making some futile attempt to seduce me? Because, I assure you, your efforts are wasted.”

  Well, not totally wasted. How warm was his skin? How smooth? If she tasted . . . nope. Time to end that line of thinking right there.

  He shrugged, keeping his distance. “I lack the skill to make clothing. Although I make up for it in other areas. Want me to demonstrate?”

  Yes. No. “Put your clothes back on.” She gestured to the neat pile.

  “No way. I like the way you look at me when I’m naked.”

  Argh, she was ready to punch him, even though he was right. She couldn’t keep her eyes from drifting downward to his. .. It wasn’t like seeing a human naked. He was a demon, and the presence of that spirit-being inside made the flesh all the more appealing.

  “Besides,” he continued. “I get the feeling you’re going to smash my face in or rip one of my arms off. No sense in getting my clothes all bloody. You should probably get naked too, although I think those pants are beyond salvage. Pity. I like the way they hug your ass.”

  The reminder of her ruined clothing irked her even more than his comment about her backside. This demon had to go before she did something drastic, like rip his head off or.... No, not going there at all, no matter how nice he was from the neck down. The neck up, too. Sheesh, what was wrong with her? Perhaps the coffee was a gateway sin, leading her recklessly down the slippery slope of damnation?

  Or she just hadn’t been intimate in a very long time. Yeah, that was it. Desperation was making this demon appear a viable partner.

  “You’ve got five seconds to get out of here before I lose my temper and kill you. This is your one pass. Get out of this city, because if I sense you here again, nothing will stop me from turning you into a pile of sand. Got it?”

  Worst threat ever. She’d made it sound so halfhearted that she wouldn’t be surprised if he laughed at her. Instead, he took a few steps closer — close enough that she felt the heat from his skin along with the scrape of demon energy against her senses.

  He leaned forward, his face almost touching hers as he whispered in her ear. “You’re not getting rid of me so easily, sweet cheeks. I’ve got immunity. See?” The demon revealed a household mark in his energy signature.

  Asta jerked back and stared at him openmouthed. Then she dove at him, spinning him around as she slammed him against the wall. Before he could react, she pressed herself against him, her arm circling his neck in a choke hold.

  Holy carp in a pond, he was as solid as a slab of concrete. His rear smashed against her upper thighs, making her lean forward at the waist to hold the rest of him immobile against the concrete block wall. Her breasts were crushed against the angles of his shoulder blades, her cheek brushing the softness of his black hair. She shifted slightly, adjusting her grip, and reveled at the feel of his flesh against her. Even through her clothes, she felt his heat, making her imagine she was naked too. How would it feel if their positions were reversed, and it were him pressing her against the side of the building, her hands pinned above her head as his mouth traced the line of her neck down to that sensitive spot where it joined her shoulder. . . ?

  “Hot damn. If I’d known all it would take for you to fuck me was a little— gargh.”

  His words cut like a knife through her ridiculous fantasy. “Shut up.” Asta tightened her g
rip around his throat. “I don’t believe you. No one has immunity. No one. You’re going to get out of my city and stay out, or I’m going to kill you.”

  Well, no one used to have immunity. Frowning, Asta contemplated the slim chance he was telling the truth. Things had changed in the last few years. There was an Iblis — a demon on the Ruling Council of Angels who represented Hel. After millions of years of nothing but violence between their two races, it seemed there were now all sorts of complicated exceptions to the already complicated rules. Demons lied far more than they told the truth, but just in case this one was having a rare moment of honesty, she’d check his claim.

  Unfortunately, checking his claim would involve even more intimacy than pressing herself against his naked body.

  Sandwiching him harder against the wall, the angel dove her spirit-self into his body, exploring and reading who he was beneath the human form. It should been like frisking someone for weapons, searching for ID. It should have been simple, impersonal, except, in reality, this was more like a strip search — a very hands-on strip search. She’d never been this close to a demon’s spirit-being before. She’d never been this close to an angel’s either unless they were joining. . . . Oh my, not going to go there.

  But she was. She just couldn’t help herself from taking liberties that were terribly inappropriate given the circumstances. The similarities between him and the other angels were surprising, but not as much as the differences. She could tell he was strong and loyal, sly and devious with a dark and bawdy sense of humor. He wouldn’t hesitate to sell out anyone for personal gain. She’d found what she was looking for, but couldn’t help exploring further, couldn’t help falling into him as she did. Edges of her spirit-self joined with his in a swirl of light. Suddenly realizing what she was doing, Asta yanked away, loosening her grip on the demon’s physical body as she retreated.

  “Damn, girl. I usually get dinner and a movie first. I had no idea I was going to wind up getting to second base with an angel up against the side of a building in a back alley. And that autoerotic asphyxiation thing really did it for me, too. You wouldn’t happen to have a cigarette handy, would you?”

  Gah, he was horrible. “I wasn’t . . . I didn’t. . . . I was just checking to see who you were.”

  “Very thoroughly, too. Feel free to check again any time you get the urge.” He turned to face her, still scant inches away, his back against the building. “I’m Dar. Second demon in the household of the Iblis, who is also my sister. You know, you could have just asked. You didn’t have to grope me to find that out, although I really enjoyed it. Want to do it again?”

  “Yes. I mean, yes, I see who you are, not ‘yes I want to do it again’.” Asta took a step back. Once again, she was sounding like a total idiot. “You sneaky little rat, leading me around all night when you were off limits.”

  “Yep. Fun, wasn’t it?”

  Her temper sparked, mostly fueled by the embarrassment of feeling him up like a horny teenager. “I don’t care whose household you’re with, you’re going to die. Sooner or later you’ll slip up, and I’ll be there to dust you when you do. If you’ve got an ounce of sense in your tiny little brain, you’ll go back to Hel tonight.”

  He grinned, and although it was the type of grin a tiger gives its prey, Asta’s shiver was not from fear. “See you in the morning, sweetheart.”

  He dropped, snapping back into the rat form, and in a blink, he was gone.

  Morning. Asta eyed the black of night and wondered whether she hoped his words were true or not. Just in case, she’d better grab his suit, still folded on the pallet. It was far too high quality an outfit to leave beside a dumpster. Scooping it up, she smelled sandalwood and pepper, dark chocolate with a hint of citrus. The fabric was soft and smooth, and she couldn’t help burying her face in it for a brief guilty moment. It seemed this demon was here to stay, which would make her final week here very interesting. Interesting and most likely very detrimental in regards to her eternal salvation.

  Chapter 5

  Best. Fucking. Vacation. Ever.

  Dar grinned, throwing a beer bottle at the packed cruise boat heading down the Chicago River. It missed the bald man he’d been aiming for and exploded on the deck, showering nearby passengers with a spray of cold beer and chunks of green glass. Morning had dawned with an unseasonable warmth, but temps had dropped to sixty degrees this afternoon as thick clouds moved in. The Heineken shower wasn’t going to do anyone’s body temperature any good. It would have been more fun to give the bald dude a concussion, but this was still an enjoyable activity to round out his day. Two politicians led into corruption, a new pothole on East Wacker, and a really pissed off angel he’d been following around since sunrise. Yep. Best vacation ever.

  Turning away from the boat of angry, wet tourists, Dar headed down Michigan Avenue. There was a lot going on — bands, parties, and Friday night happy hour. Some convention had taken over the top floor of The Wit for a private party. The olive green suit he had on today wasn’t as nice as the one he’d left in the alley, but it would still be appropriate for a corporate function. He wasn’t invited, but crashing a party was at the top of Dar’s list of fun things to do. The only thing holding him back was the faint, intermittent energy signature that hinted another demon might have beaten him to the fun. Back in Hel, Dar would have joined in, but here demons guarded their territories fiercely. Two would definitely be a crowd, although if there was another demon prowling around, his angel was bound to be there too. Hmm, crashing a party was sounding more appealing than ever.

  There was no guarantee the demon at the party wouldn’t want to tear his heart out for more personal reasons beyond encroaching on territory. Dar belonged to the household of the Iblis. Being second in command to Satan tended to put a big bull’s-eye on a demon’s back, in or out of Hel.

  Pretending to talk on his cell phone, Dar lingered and watched humans stream into the building. Damn it; was the demon there or wasn’t he? The energy signal was fleeting, flickering in and out, as if the creature straddled two worlds. Fuck it. Dar shoved the phone into his pocket, resolved to take his chances. He’d just started toward the revolving doors when a familiar woman caught his eye.

  Not a woman, he corrected himself, an angel.

  A grin curved his lips. An angel with warm-brown skin, a poof of coffee-colored hair that lightened to dark gold at the tips, and the longest legs he’d ever seen. She might look like an angel, in the metaphorical sense as well as a species designation, but she’d hardly behaved like one today. He’d caught her flying twice, vanishing her wings with a guilty snap each time she’d sensed him. Then she’d lingered outside a coffee shop, pacing back and forth in front of the entrance for half an hour before sneaking in to get an espresso. Just before lunch, she’d slipped into an exclusive boutique in the Gold Coast district and exited with a shopping bag. Yes, his angel was a naughty girl.

  She’d come, as he’d expected, drawn by the demon signature Dar had sensed, even though she’d tried to avoid his presence all day. Dar let his energy out, not caring if the other demon sensed him or not, and was rewarded by an irritated twitch of the angel’s head.

  She stood before the revolving door as if she wasn’t sure how to navigate it. Her fingers flicked against her legs, drawing his eyes to their long lengths.

  This had started out as a fun, annoy-the-angel prank, but it had quickly turned into something else. She’d been intriguing last night — endearing even, with her fear of rats — and today he’d found her to be smart, with surprising compassion. She’d watched the humans go about their day with such affection in her eyes. She’d held the door for a man with a huge box, smiling in pleasure at his thanks. She’d erased graffiti from several bus shelters, snatched a reckless cat from certain death beneath a taxi’s wheels. She’d tripped a pickpocket, returning the stolen wallet to its owner without anyone the wiser.

  In flight, her wings had reflected the light, rivaling the sun with their brilliance. Each
time they’d burst from her back, tearing her shirt with their width. Each time she’d somehow repaired her shirt to its undamaged state as she landed and hid her wings. The humans were none the wiser as she flew around the city, sat beside them on park benches, browsed the sale racks at Carson Pirie Scott. Were they all like this? The few angels he’d met so far had been insufferably pompous. Whatever few sins she indulged in, he doubted pride was one of them.

  Yes, this angel was very intriguing . . . and she looked completely ridiculous standing there chewing her bottom lip as the humans parted around her to enter the building. Silly angels. Holding his energy tight within to conceal his location from the other demon, Dar walked forward and grabbed the edge of the revolving door.

  “Going in?” He flashed her his most charming smile, faltering as she stared at him with unblinking brown eyes. Okay, maybe it wasn’t a charming smile. At least she wasn’t running away screaming like human females sometimes did, or threatening to poke his eyes out as she’d done this morning.

  “Yes. Thank you.” The angel’s voice was coolly professional. Dar waved her in, trying to keep his grin from becoming even toothier.

  The angel swept into the space between the doors with an inhuman smoothness of movement. And stopped. Okay. Guess he was supposed to push the door for her too. Holding back a laugh, Dar shoved the door forward, hitting the angel on the ass, propelling her forward.

  “Hey!” She stumbled, grabbing the glass in front of her for balance as she glared back at him.

  “Where the fuck are you from, angel? Don’t they have revolving doors in Aaru? Or maybe you’ve spent the last hundred years as an enforcer in Po-dunk, Iowa?” He shoved the door once more.

  The angel ignored him, staggering into the lobby as the doors forcibly ejected her. He choked down a laugh and followed her to the elevator.