by Karina Halle
“Yeah, but if I go in that line, and you get to the front first, you have to pay.”
“I can handle it,” I tell him.
He kisses me on my temple, making my heart do a loop-de-loop in my chest, and then walks over to the other line.
Unfortunately, people are slooooow and both lines are taking forever.
“Hey,” some guy says from beside me.
I glance at a dude in a Gwar T-shirt, a pretty boy with blond hair and nice eyes and the kind of expression that tells me he thinks all the ladies want him. Not me though. Even if I wasn’t with Max, I’d never go after a guy who wears the band’s tee to the concert.
“Hi,” I say uneasily, my brows pulling together. “Do I know you?”
In other words, you a demon?
He smiles. Not a demon. Possible veneers though.
“No,” he says. “Just noticed you’re here alone.”
“Uh, I’m not alone.” I look over his shoulder at Max who is frowning at us from the other line, a hard edge to his jaw. “My boyfriend is over there.”
I mean, I don’t think Max is really my boyfriend, I have no idea what the hell we are, but for this moment he totally is.
The guy looks over his shoulder, but I don’t think he’s looking at Max because he says. “That guy? You can do better than that.”
There is some scrawny little short dude with overgrown sideburns standing right beside Max, so maybe he thinks that’s my boyfriend?
“Glad you seem to think so. Now, if you’ll go away, that would be great.” I make the shooing motions with my hands.
“Hey, I’m trying to be nice,” the guy says, his expression changing, voice getting testy, “you’re being rude.”
My mouth drops open. “Rude? You think this is rude? Honey, you have no idea who you’re dealing with. Now get the fuck out of here before I kick your ass.”
“Oh, your boyfriend can’t do that for you?”
“I can,” Max says from behind the guy, voice low and threatening. He towers over the guy, the expression in his eyes growing dark and oh my god Max, please don’t Darth Vader this guy.
“Max,” I warn him.
The dude turns, stares up at Max. I expect him to cower and apologize and walk away, but he doesn’t. I guess he has some sort of foolish pride to think he’ll survive it if Max punches downward.
“Strawberry Shortcake here?” the guy says, pointing at Max. “What decade did you come crawling out of, the fifties?”
Max is wearing his leather jacket, white t-shirt, his hair pushed off his head in an Elvis/James Dean hybrid, so the insult does have some legs.
“Actually, the fifteen-hundreds,” Max says idly. “And I suggest you get the fuck out of here unless you’re looking for trouble. If you are looking for trouble, then you’ve come to the right place.”
I’m suddenly conscious of people around us watching, seeing if a fight is about to break out. All I know is it won’t be a very long fight.
“So, are you looking for trouble?” Max asks, staring at him steadily, and there’s something about the calm tone of his voice that has me paying attention. “Because I don’t think you can handle what I’m about to give you.”
The guys blinks, then shakes his head. “No sir. No trouble.”
“Then you better be on your way.”
“I better be on my way.”
“Actually, you owe us both a drink. For wasting our time.”
“I will buy you both a drink.”
The guy takes out his wallet and then holds out a twenty.
“No,” Max says, smirking at him. “I think we need all the cash.”
“Okay,” the guy says. He takes all the cash out of his wallet and hands it to Max. “Here you go. I’ll be going now.”
Then he turns and walks away.
“Buh bye,” Max calls out after him.
“Wow,” I say under my breath, leaning into him. “I really thought we’d have a body to bury.”
“Violence isn’t always the answer, Ada,” he says to me, shoving the cash in his jacket pocket. “Not when robbery is.”
“Too bad, I was looking forward to you throwing down in here.”
He eyes me, nose flaring. “Oh yeah? That does it for you?”
I nod, giving him my sexiest I want to fuck you smile.
I can feel the energy leap off of him from here.
“Because I can punch the next guy right in the face, if you’d like,” he adds. “Lord knows there won’t be a short supply since every Tom, Dick and Harry wants to hit on you.”
“Can you blame them?” I ask sweetly, biting my lip for show.
“Fuck no,” he practically growls. Then he grabs my arm and pulls me away from the alcohol line. We were so close to actually getting service, but when he leads me over to the private handicapped restroom and opens the door, practically throwing me in, all is forgiven.
He locks it, his long legs cross the room in two strides and then he’s leaning over to cup my ass in his hands, lifting me up like a feather, and shoving me back against the wall, kissing me long and deep and wild.
I wrap my legs around him and he shoves my dress up to my waist. It was no accident that I wore a lacey strappy sundress dress today, and that I’m also going commando. Easy access all the way.
“Fuck, darlin’,” Max says through a shaking groan, his hands sliding up over my bare hips, thumbs gliding in over my pussy where I’m already wet. “I had no idea.”
I giggle as he licks my earlobe, breath hot and frantic as he unzips his jeans. “Serves you right for not trying to feel me up earlier.”
“I’ve been a stupid, stupid man.” He grabs his cock, hard as concrete, positioning it against me. “How about I make it up to you?”
Before I can answer he shoves inside me, leaving me gasping, my fingers digging into his head, grabbing his jacket as he pushes to the hilt.
“Oh god,” I cry out, my words catching.
“That’s what I like to hear,” he murmurs, pulling out and thrusting his cock back in, my head hitting the tiles. He kisses me again, a soul-searing kiss that makes my body fill with butterflies, then the pace gets faster, wilder.
I press the heels of my shoes into his ass, wanting him deeper still, loving how far he goes, how he fills me.
“You called me your boyfriend,” he says gruffly, kissing down my throat.
My breath hitches, hoping that didn’t bother him. “Sorry about that.”
He pulls back, breathing hard, running a thumb over my lips. “Don’t be. I can be that for you. Or I can just be the man who’s about to make you come. I can be anything you want.”
“What do you want?” I ask, and I realize that maybe we shouldn’t be having this conversation while he’s screwing me in a bathroom stall at a Gwar concert.
“I have what I want.” He kisses me deeply, pulls back to look intently in my eyes. “You.”
“And what am I?”
His gaze drops to my mouth, to my cheek, to my nose, back to my eyes. “You’re everything and the only thing.”
I’m momentarily speechless.
God damn it.
I swallow hard. “If you didn’t have your dick inside me, I might say that’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.”
He gives me a lazy grin. “Good thing I have my dick inside you, then.”
Then he thrusts inside me, that big fucking dick of his, so deeply that my lungs are emptied of air, and starts railing me until I think he might just impale me on the tiles.
I had a feeling it would be like this with him, that it would be this good.
But it’s even better than I imagined.
He works me fast, I hold on tight. His skilled fingers bring me to a boil while he pistons his hips into me, swift stabbing movements that makes me see stars. He’s in complete control for most of it until his breathing gives away to husky feral cries and then we’re both coming at the same time.
His pumping slows, his groan
s fading, my world spinning. I don’t feel like I’ll ever come back down from this, but I literally do when he pulls out and lowers me back to the ground.
Fucking hell that was awesome.
If we weren’t in a dingy bathroom in the House of Blues, I’d be tempted to have another round.
But we are.
And the best thing for us is probably to go back to the hotel room to continue.
“You know, I think I’ve seen enough of Gwar,” I joke to him, pulling down my dress. I lean over and grab a few sheets of toilet paper for the insides of my thighs (I know it’s NOLA and everything goes, but I refuse to walk around with dried cum on my legs).
But when I clean myself up, stealing a glance at him, I notice he’s gone totally stiff.
“Max?”
He turns to face me.
Eyes on fire.
At the same time, that white lightning sparks inside me, almost painfully hot, stealing my breath away.
“Oh shit,” I manage to say.
He stares at me, swallowing thickly, looking pained. “This isn’t good.”
I eye the door. “There’s a demon outside that door isn’t there?”
“I…” he trails off, shaking his head. “Consider ourselves lucky if there’s only one. I’ve never felt this before.”
I know what he means. Even at the bar when Michelle walked on stage, that was powerful, but it felt more centralized. Like she was just affecting Max, more so than me. Here, now…it’s chaotic and all over the place.
I have to admit. I’m a little scared.
“What do you wanna do?” I ask, trying to sound brave.
He gives me a sympathetic look and puts his hand behind my neck, giving it a firm squeeze that’s supposed to steady me. I guess it does a bit.
“We get the hell out of here.”
“No fighting?”
“No fighting. We just run. Okay? Back to the hotel. At least there’s a sword there.”
“Might just be some loser demons?” I suggest hopefully, but I know that’s not true. The last so-called loser demon I came across put me in the hospital.
“We need to go,” he says to me. “But we can do this. Are you ready?”
I find strength somewhere inside and raise my chin. “Let’s kick some ass!”
“No, Ada, we’re running away.”
“Let’s run away!”
He goes over to the door.
Turns the lock.
Opens it.
We step out into another world.
Oh, it’s the same House of Blues.
And Gwar is on stage.
But they’re frozen in place.
And so are half the people in the crowd.
Totally still, not moving. Like insects posed in amber.
Then there’s the other half.
All of them demons.
Shit.
They’re all looking at us.
Hundreds of them.
“Max,” I whimper. “What’s plan B?”
He gives me a grim look. “We fight.”
As soon as he says that, the two closest demons run for us, fingers turning to claws, jaws unhinging to reveal rows of teeth, coming fast.
Oh my god.
I push off from my feet in the nick of time, summersaulting over their heads. I land in front of a big dude with white eyes and I drop low to the ground, kicking out until I connect with his shins and he falls down, making the floor shake. I reach out and grab his head before he can get up, twisting it off into a pile of dust.
“Ada!” Max yells.
I turn to see him punching someone in the head so hard that their head swivels violently, snapping right off.
Okay, is he showing off for me, or—?
“Behind you!”
I whip behind me to see three women dressed up in Playboy bunny ears for a bachelorette party, all of them lunging for me.
I scream and jump up over their heads.
One of them grabs my leg while I’m soaring over them, claws digging into my calf.
I scream and she rips me from the air until I’m landing on my back, hard. She jumps on me, trying to take out my face, but I manage to headbutt her in the nick of time, disorienting her enough to grab her head and rip it off, the demon dust coating me.
I spit it out of my mouth, rolling over to get to my feet, but then there’s a foot on my back holding me in place before claws reach down and grab my shoulders, hauling me back as if to snap me in two.
Then Max appears, taking off the head before grabbing me under my arms and hauling me to my feet.
“You okay?” he asks.
I nod only because the adrenaline is keeping me from feeling any pain.
Or embarrassment. Since I’ve been doing flips and summersaults and I’m wearing a dress with no underwear.
“We can get out that way,” he says, pointing to the edge of the balcony where no demons have gathered, only people frozen in place.
He pulls me along quickly as the demons from behind us follow, their demented jaws snapping hungrily.
We reach the edge and see the exit down below, only a handful of demons between us and the door.
Only problem is we’re high up. Very high.
“What do we do now?” I say to Max, looking behind me as they get closer and closer and I’m counting at least fifteen here, no time to kill them all and survive.
“We jump,” he says.
And then he climbs up, stands on the edge of the railing and just fucking jumps.
“Max!” I scream, leaning over the edge watching as he just lands on his feet, thirty feet below on the dance floor, no problem.
What the fuck is with this guy?
He reaches up with his arms, beckoning me.
“Now your turn.”
“Are you crazy!? I’ll die!”
“I’ll catch you.”
“Then you’ll die!”
“No, you’re going to die if you don’t jump!” he booms. “And then I’ll die. Remember?”
Fuck he’s right.
I turn around in time to see the demons starting to run at me.
I step up onto the railing, trying to balance myself to make the leap, but I lose my footing right away.
I fall, twisting, turning in the air, the scream ripped through my lungs, expecting to hit the ground.
But I land in Max’s arms, so strong and so steady, that it’s like he’s catching a pillow.
He puts me down on the ground, gives me a cocky smile that I totally deserve, a told you so, and then we start running to the exit.
I take out one demon with a kick to the head.
Max rips the head off another.
Then we’re bursting out of the doors and into the outside, gulping the humid swampy air.
Pedestrians pass by on the street, laughing, drunk, taxis zoom along, zydeco music plays from a nearby store.
It’s normal out here.
But there’s no time to waste.
Max grabs my hand and we start running down Decatur Street, him leading the way, dodging people as we go, navigating the uneven sidewalks.
We run all the way to Jackson Square, then cut across it past the statue, adrenaline keeping me sprinting.
“What do we do now?” I yell at Max as our legs are pumping, mine working double time to keep up with his. I look over my shoulder to see if demons are following us, but immediately trip over some grass.
Max reaches out and steadies me just in time and I’m stumbling for a moment before we keep on going.
Problem is, I’m pretty sure I saw demons behind us.
“I think we’re being followed,” I tell him, my lungs burning.
Max looks over his shoulder, and that’s when I notice the flames in his eyes are still flickering. “I reckon you’re right.”
“Should we call for backup?”
“Backup?” he says, pulling me to the left along Saint Ann Street, then across the road, nearly getting hit by a car as we go. “Is t
hat another name for my sword?”
“Rose!” I yell at him. “She’s a demon slayer, she should be helping us.”
“She doesn’t do that anymore,” he says, the two of us dodging a couple with a stroller. Who brings a baby to New Orleans?
“What do you mean? She just stopped?”
“Yeah, she quit. She told me as much last night.”
“You can do that?”
“She did.” He glances at me quickly. “You know you don’t have to do this either, right?”
I shake my head. No way. I am what I am. “And leave you on your own to fight these bastards without me? I don’t think so.”
He bursts out laughing, grinning at me. “I fucking love you, you know that?”
My mouth drops open.
Dead.
I’m dead.
I stop running, rooted in the ground and Max stumbles a few feet, his momentum ripping him out of my grasp.
“What did you just say?” I say incredulously, my heart pounding even louder now and it’s not the fact that we’ve been running for five minutes.
Max walks back to me, determination on his brow. “You heard me.” He looks over my shoulder. “And I think they’re all close enough to hear me too.”
I blink, feeling dumbed up in love, and look behind me to see about twenty demons running after us. No one else in this damn city seems to be paying any of this any attention.
“Come on,” he says, grabbing my hand. “We can discuss this later.”
We start running again, but I’m having a hard time shaking what he said.
He loves me.
Did he actually mean that?
Was it a joke, something said in a burst of adrenaline, like how two people will make out if they think it’s the end of the world?
I’m still pondering this, jumping between his words and the fact that demons are after us, as we head down Royal Street, about a block from the hotel. Luckily the car is parked closer to us.
Unluckily, there’re a shit ton of people out on the streets.
And none of them are frozen.
Some of them are already wondering why a girl in a bloody sundress and Ginger Elvis are running down the street.
Whatever time manipulating voodoo shit the demons were doing for the sake of Gwar, they aren’t doing it here.
