by RJ Blain
Malcolm circled the car, slid behind the wheel, and chuckled while looking me over. “I’m so glad we’re going to a hotel.”
“Why?”
“I’ll explain when we get there.”
I blamed my feline nature for my curiosity. Malcolm spent a few minutes on his phone before starting the engine. While the rank odor permeating everything still bothered me, shifting had helped. I considered it a miracle when I regained control over my stomach. By the time we arrived ten minutes later, I could breathe without wanting to cut off my nose or vomit.
Unlike his previous attempt at checking into a hotel, his credit card was accepted without question.
One day, I’d ask why Malcolm liked the top floor so much. A pair of incubi joined us in the elevator, and they looked me over like I was dessert. My fur stood on end, and I flattened my ears, bared my teeth, and growled a warning.
No only worked on incubi if spoken early enough.
“She’s off limits,” Malcolm snapped, his tone colder than I’d ever heard him.
“Says who?”
I unsheathed my claws and hissed, “Me, asshole. You come between me and a shower, and they’ll be calling you Satan’s gelding. Got it?”
“Feisty,” the sex demon purred.
“Feisty with sharp claws, pointy teeth, and no desire to play with incubi today. No. If I find out you influenced either one of us, I’ll hunt you down and use you as an example.”
Both incubi grinned, and they took their time looking me over again. The one who thought I was feisty leaned towards me, licking his lips. “But you’re dressed for a good time.”
“Not with you, I’m not.”
“Don’t be such a prude.”
“I’m not a prude. I’m just not interested in a threesome or a foursome. Not my style. If you want to hook up with a succubus or two, I might be able to help you.” I paused, considering the many ways I could use a pair of incubi to do my dirty work. “It’ll cost you, though.”
That caught their attention. “You know a succubus?”
I sighed and rolled my eyes. Incubi had two modes of operation; they wanted sex, or they wanted productive sex. “I know someone who can help you out. What are you actually after? A quick fix, or are you after something a bit more?”
“More,” they whispered.
Lovely. The incubi wanted babies. I pulled out my phone and called my least favorite phone number in the universe.
“It’s like you can’t go a day without my affections, cupcake.”
“Do you know a couple of succubi looking for a pair of incubi? If I have to decline their invitation again, I’m shipping them to you in pieces. I think they’re looking to make a few little incubi babies.”
“I might. Where do you want them? When?”
“Twelve hours, Malcolm’s house. And no, you can’t go with them.”
“Spoilsport. What do I get out of this?”
I clacked my teeth and hissed, “I don’t ship you two incubi in a box, asshole.”
“You’re cruel.”
“If you talk back, I’ll send them to you via ground transit without refrigeration.”
“My, my. You’re so cranky today, cupcake. Very well. I’ll have two succubi at your Stewart’s home in twelve hours. You get a passing grade for your negotiations this time. When—”
I hung up on the devil. “Malcolm, give them your address, a set of your keys, and directions on how to get into your place. As for you two, you’re going to stay at his house with your succubi, you’re going to take care of the property, and otherwise house sit for a week. You’ll steal nothing. You’ll fix or replace anything that breaks, and otherwise make yourselves useful for the duration of your stay. In addition, you will recruit your succubi and help me with a research project. I want you to compile a list of all accidental deaths for the past two months. I also want a list of any orphaned children and information on where they’re located, if available. I’m sure a handsome pair of sex demons like you can get me the info I need.”
Malcolm’s mouth dropped open, but he did as I ordered.
“You are feisty,” the incubus murmured, taking Malcolm’s keys. “How on Earth did you win her?”
I smiled my sweetest smile. “He hasn’t.”
Not yet at least, but if I didn’t do something soon about him, he might—to hell with my morals.
The incubi whined about having to change their schedules; both worked at a devil-run brothel catering to humanoids, and the devil in charge refused to permit breeding, not even with a succubi. No wonder their desperation levels had peaked off the charts.
While they left me alone, Malcolm fidgeted, and I expected to be warding off his advances, knocking him out, or indulging in something I really shouldn’t: him. No one would care what I did—or didn’t—do with him. Well, the devil might, but he could kiss my ass if he didn’t like it.
I sighed. Work and pleasure weren’t supposed to mix.
“Why don’t we take a walk to the beach,” Malcolm suggested through clenched teeth once the sex demons had finally left.
Yep, the incubi had definitely gotten to him. “How far is it to the water?”
“Quarter mile; it’s a bit off the beaten path. We’re skirting the better beaches here.”
“Been to Savannah before?”
“A few times. There are a few good restaurants nearby, too.”
“I should shift then, unless you like wet fur.” Fortunately, cats didn’t get the equivalent of gross wet dog smell, but it would take forever to get the salt and sand out of my fur.
“That… might be wise.” Malcolm swallowed, and he shifted his weight from foot to foot before marching down the hall towards our room. “If being human doesn’t make you ill again.”
“I should be hunting them down and filleting them,” I growled.
“It wasn’t intentional. It’s not their fault I’m a male. It’s their nature.”
“All right, then, Mr. Demon Expert. Why am I fine then?”
“You’re stubborn, you threatened to castrate them, and you arranged succubi for them. You’re their best friend right now.”
“Valid points.” I followed him to the door, waited for him to let us in, and turned to engage the deadbolt. Maybe the incubi hadn’t gotten to me, but Malcolm doing his best to be virtuous in the face of two sex demons certainly did. “I’m not sure the beach is a wise idea.”
“Why not?”
I smiled. “If I decide to take your clothes off, I don’t want anyone photographing the goods.” I faced him, and before I could take another breath, he pounced, pinning me to the door with his body.
“If?” Malcolm captured my hands in his, weaving our fingers together. All I needed to do to break free was unsheathe my claws, but I kept still and waited. “What do I need to do to turn that if to a when?”
Wings against a wall hurt, so I shifted hoping for anything with two legs and no wings. I’d never shifted with someone so close before. When the flash of pain eased, I was human.
Along the way, I’d lost my new clothes but somehow managed to keep the boots. Nice. I could live with that.
“Is that an invitation?” he growled, pulling my arms higher over my head and securing my wrists in one of his hands. “Tell me yes.”
“And if I tell you no?”
“I’m a patient man. I’ll wait until you say yes—or nibble on you until you can’t resist me anymore. I’ll improvise.”
Patient and willing to fight an incubus’s influence intrigued me almost as much as his hold on me along with the way he ducked his head, his breath warming my throat. “And if I say yes?”
“I’m the jealous kind, and I play for keeps.”
The cat in me loved the challenge in his voice while the human in me demanded the loyalty he offered. The rest, a mish-mash of both, wanted him to put his money where his mouth was and scratch every last one of my itches. I didn’t even need a bed. The wall would do nicely. “Tell me more.”
&nb
sp; “I haven’t been with anyone in a few years,” he growled, and true to his promise, he nibbled on my neck.
Holy hell. If he did that again, I’d end up trying to bite his clothes off. “I obviously can’t take so much repressed masculinity outside.”
“No, you can’t.”
I wanted another nibble, but Malcolm teased me with a kiss instead. “Why me?”
The infuriating man dared to laugh, and he worked his leg between mine, nudging my feet apart. I shifted my weight, and he took advantage of the opportunity to slide his hand along the length of my leg to my knee. A moment later, he forced me to stand on one foot, trapping me so securely I’d have to shift to escape him.
Yep, I was a goner. He just hadn’t figured it out yet.
He chuckled. “Do you want the polite answer?”
Hell no. I wanted whatever motivated him to stop teasing me. “You can start with polite, I suppose.”
“The first time I saw you, I thought you were an angel, but then I learned you were a demon in disguise, my heaven and hell in living perfection. Then you were hurt because of me, but you refused to be a helpless victim. You’re smart, you’re wary, and those shorts you sometimes wear should be illegal in all fifty states. When you kept sneaking into bed with me because you were cold, I kept turning the thermostat down to lure you back. By the time you woke those mummies because I’d be shot, I had already figured out you were it for me. The longer I’m with you, the less I like the idea of letting you leave my sight. I’ll fight the devil for you if I must.”
“How about a pair of archangels?”
“Them, too.”
“I guess it’s a good thing you’re a picky Stewart man. I don’t share.”
“How tragic for me.” Malcolm took another nibble. “I could do this all night, you know.”
I growled. “Typical man, all talk. Why do men always promise all night and last ten minutes? Don’t make promises no man can keep.”
“Challenge accepted.”
I didn’t get the chance to even laugh before he let go of his restraint and gave me a very thorough demonstration of what Caitlin had foolishly given up.
I swore never to challenge Malcolm when it came to sex ever again. When I’d said all night, I hadn’t meant the entire night plus the majority of the next day. He took what he wanted, how he wanted it, when he wanted it, and long after I forgot most of my vocabulary, he did it all over again.
Maybe I should have asked him to stop after reducing me to a limp mess of quivering muscles. On second thought, could I afford to spare the breath? Probably not. After years of repressed sexuality, I considered myself lucky Malcolm rewarded me with tidbits of food when he wasn’t busy living up to his promise.
No, if I let him continue, he might kill me. Then again, if I were going to die, there were worse ways to go. “I surrender.”
Malcolm gave a low, throaty chuckle. “Too late. I’ve already conquered every last inch of you.”
No kidding. “What happens now that you’ve conquered me?”
“I marry you so no one, such as that Asfour fellow, gets any ideas. I vote we quietly elope so we have the appropriate legal documentation to prevent any unwelcome advances. After, we have a disgustingly elaborate wedding to snub the various assholes in our lives.”
“But what about the curse?”
“It is what it is. If we can’t have children together should we want them, I’ll cope. I’d rather have you.”
Having seen his home and the wistful family picture it painted, it hurt even thinking he’d let it go for me. He had no way of knowing what I’d already wagered. For the rest of my life, I’d remember his willingness to sacrifice so much. I’d also wonder how Caitlin could walk away from him—or treat him like property.
I blamed the curse, although I suspected she held equal guilt. Still, there was a simple solution to his problem. No, our problem. “Curse, schmurse. Should push come to shove and we want children, we’ll adopt an entire brood of them.”
Malcolm grunted, trailing his finger up and down the length of my arm. “Adoption hadn’t occurred to me before.”
“There are plenty of little brats running around who need asshole parents who won’t take their shit or sell them out.”
“You’ve decided we’re asshole parents already, have you?”
I rolled over, groaned at my stiffening muscles, and poked his chest. “You’re an asshole. I’m an asshole. That, by default, makes us asshole parents.”
“I prefer to think of myself as manly.”
I laughed. “That you are.”
“We should elope, then we should fake a honeymoon.”
Why the hell not? “How big will the real wedding be?”
“I think that’ll depend on if you-know-who figures out about it before we publicly tie the knot.”
“Good point. How do we elope?”
“Tomorrow morning, we’ll deal with it. Tonight, we’re busy.”
“We are?”
Malcolm pounced with a mock growl. “You’re still capable of talking. I haven’t worn you out entirely.”
Holy hell. What had I gotten myself into, and did I even want to escape?
Chapter Twenty-Four
My phone rang, and I groaned, reached for it, and ended up with a handful of naked male chest. “Make the noise stop.”
With one of his sensuous chuckles, Malcolm tucked me close to his side, then he said, “Kanika’s phone, Malcolm speaking.”
I supposed answering the call made the noise stop. Grunting, I snuggled close to steal his warmth. Before him, I’d been a ‘hit the floor running at dawn’ girl, happy to have a man scratch my itch and leaving before either one of us could become attached.
I’d have to file some sort of complaint later; how dare he sneak his way under my skin before luring me between the sheets?
“No, she’s not dead. What gave you that dumbass idea? Do you really think I’d allow anyone to touch her after that stunt in New York? No, I don’t want to talk to Caitlin. I don’t care what she told you. No, as in never applies. Really. What do you want from Kanika at seven in the morning?”
Some asshole had called me at seven? I lifted my hand and waggled my fingers. “Phone.”
It took two tries to get the wretched device situated where it belonged. “I don’t know who the fuck I’m talking to, but I don’t care. If Caitlin comes anywhere near my man, I’ll murder her at my convenience, which will be when I’m not busy sleeping with him. Understood?”
“Good morning, Kanika,” Bubba Eugene replied. “Are you just saying that to throw her off his trail?”
“Oh, no. I never tell someone I’ll kill them unless I mean it. What do you want?” I snarled.
“I wanted to ask you about that devil at the gala.”
“His name is Satan. He’s not ‘that’ devil. He’s the devil. He’s the real deal. I watched him turn a minotaur inside out once. What do you want to know?”
“What’s someone like you doing with the devil?”
I deliberately misinterpreted his comment and replied, “You’re confused. The only man I’m with is named Malcolm. What you saw in New York is exactly what reality is.”
“Shit.”
“Since you’ve bothered me about the devil at seven in the morning, tell me this: what does Caitlin want?”
Bubba Eugene sighed. “What Caitlin always wants: Malcolm.”
“Then maybe she shouldn’t have cheated on him. Tough shit for her. He’s mine.”
“She disagrees.”
“Do I really need to repeat myself? Apparently, I do. Tough shit for her. He’s mine, and I don’t share.”
Malcolm dropped kisses along my neck and chuckled. “You’re so grouchy before you’ve been fed.”
I needed to put a few warning labels around Malcolm’s neck—and get him to stop before his cousin heard some wildly inappropriate behavior from us. “Stop that, Malcolm. I’m on the phone.”
His growl sounded a lot like
a purr. “But I don’t want to.”
“Wait,” Bubba Eugene blurted. “Is he sleeping with you? He actually let you sleep with him?”
I swatted at Malcolm until he relented, although his pout almost did me in. “He’s not sleeping with me right now. And what do you mean by let me? He pinned me to the door and made me beg for it. Go away. It seems I’ve been booked for a morning seduction, and you’re interrupting us.” I hung up. “Obviously, I’ve learned your ulterior motive, Mr. Stewart. You need me to marry you to protect you from Caitlin. I have reviewed your application for a protectorate marriage and find the terms acceptable.”
Married to me was a lot better than letting her stalk him for the rest of his life when he obviously didn’t want her. Also, married to me meant I’d never have to let him go, and it wasn’t really violating all my morals if I married him, was it? “I need a shower, then I need to look into this eloping business so she can’t sink her claws into you.”
He pouted some more. “But what about the morning seduction?”
If I didn’t leash him, we’d never leave the hotel room. “Elope first, then breakfast, then work, then seduction, in that order.”
“I don’t like that order.”
How dare he make sulking so damned attractive? “You’ll live.” Leaning over him, I smiled and kissed his brow. “I’m going to make her regret that she thought she could hurt you like that.”
“You’re making it very difficult to skip the morning seduction.”
“Leash the libido until tonight, Mr. Stewart. At the rate you’re going, I’m starting to believe you’re an incubus in disguise.”
He laughed. “I’m not, sorry to disappoint. I have no incubus genes.”
I thought about it. “You’re right. It’s obvious you can’t be an incubus. They have nothing on you—and yes, I’ve been with one. You’re superior. Don’t let it go to your head too much. Let’s go take care of that paperwork so we’re both free of our past mistakes.”
Marriage to Malcolm Stewart might be a mistake, but at least it would be a mistake of my choosing, one I could live with.
