Pushing Up Posies

by Eve Langlais

  “He usually wears a human guise, without any accoutrements, unless you count his couture. He’s highly intelligent, but sly. In many respects, given the amount of sins in the world, he is the most forgiving and at the same time most unrelenting. Meddlesome, too. Thinks he’s some kind of Cupid.”

  “The Devil setting people up?” She laughed. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “Yet he’s apparently quite good at it.” After all, Lucifer had been bugging him to go after Posie. If he’d given in to his passion earlier, the wager would have never happened. Meaning the Devil would have bet on something else…

  She reached out and stroked a hand over his cloak. It shivered in response. “Do you ever take it off?” she asked of his magical garment. His armor. His identity.

  He shook his head. “Part of the transformation bonds us to the robe. It is what gives us our power.”

  “So you were human once?”

  “A long time ago, before my bargain with the Devil.”

  “How long?”

  Rather than reply, he offered her more of the lore. “A reaper would die if they were to lose their cloak. It is bound to our lives. It is our shadow that keeps us from being seen on the mortal plane.”

  “And the scythe?”

  “More of our magic. It takes but a thought to call it forward.” He held out his hand and his scythe appeared. “We can change it, too.” It turned into a pitchfork then a martingale such as dog handlers used. Regular dogs that was. Hellhounds couldn’t be controlled by any but a Baphomet and the kennel master.

  “Do you miss being alive?” she asked.

  “Not until I met you.” How to explain that she made him remember how it could be to feel? To want to be with someone. To live for a smile.

  She reached for him, her fingers brushing his cheek. “Can you be with someone?”

  He turned his face into her touch. “Yes.” In a moment of brutal honesty, he admitted, “But you’re the first since my death that I’ve wanted for more than a night.” He wanted eternity, and yet, her mortality was plain to see.

  “Why do you look sad?” she murmured, brushing his lower lip.

  “Because while you and I can be together for your lifetime, the moment you die…”

  “You’ll drag me to Hell. How is that bad? You said you lived there.”

  “I do. However, reapers can’t associate with the damned.”

  “Why not?”

  “The magic…” He shrugged. “I don’t understand it, only that the souls in hell can’t touch us. And once they cross the Styx, they even stop seeing and hearing us.”

  “Meaning, when I die, it’s over.” She frowned. “Am I going to die young?”

  “I don’t know.” Rumors had been swirling since the beginning of time that a person’s time on Earth left a mark that pinpointed their death. If it did, he couldn’t read it.

  “A few years ago, I had some psychic tell me that I’d end up in the arms of death before I turned thirty-seven.”

  “A prophecy,” he exclaimed.

  “I guess. As some of the other things she said came true, I’ve been getting more and more anxious the closer my birthday gets. It didn’t help that right after seeing her was when I started spotting”—she paused—“non-humans. Up until recently, I thought I was going to die. But now that I’ve met you, I really wish she’d mentioned death would be so handsome.”

  She kissed him. It was sweet. Soft.

  Forgiving.

  He groaned as he let himself touch her, his hands gripping her by the waist, lifting her to more deeply plunder her mouth.

  She uttered a sound, half moan, half passionate need. She held his face as she kissed him right back. They ended up on the couch, him sitting with her in his lap. As his hands roamed her body, she molded herself to him. The tips of breasts pressed into him, her nipples hard nubs. He ground his erection against her bottom. She gasped and squirmed.

  It was too much. He had to…

  Taste her.

  Yes.

  He dumped her onto the couch, ignoring her soft protest that he might kneel. Her eyes half-lidded, she watched him as he tugged at her pants, pulling them past her hips and down her legs. Her panties quickly followed.

  He parted her knees, exposing her, feeling the heat of her shyness and yet loving the bold demand in her gaze at the same time. Holding it, he dipped until his mouth was level with her sex.

  At the first lick of his tongue across her nether lips, she cried out. “Brody.”

  Oh, how he liked hearing his name on her lips.

  He wanted more. He wanted her screaming it. He licked again. And again. Feasted on her, spreading her honeyed lips to lap at her core. He jabbed her with his tongue and flicked her clit.

  She moaned and squirmed at his touch. Bucked when he sucked on her swollen button. Stiffened and panted as her pleasure peaked, ready to tilt into climax.

  But he was too greedy to finish her with his tongue. Maybe the next time, because there would be a next time.

  Right now, he wanted to feel her. To have her come with his cock buried deep. He shoved open his pants, freeing his shaft.

  Grasping her by the thighs, he positioned her on the couch, close enough he could rub against her, shuddering at the heated slickness of her sex. Moaning as she reached to grab him.

  He might have tortured them both forever if she’d not locked her legs around his waist and drawn him closer, pulling him into her.

  Heat. Tight. Wet. Molten. Pleasure.

  His head went back as he thrust into her sex. Stretched her with his thick shaft. Felt her clenching him.

  “Brody.” She panted his name. “Brody…”

  She was coming. He wanted to come with her. He slid his hands under each of her cheeks and began to pump her, in and out. Stroking deep. Hard.

  Her gasps turning to high-pitched squeaks. Then a cry and shudder as she came, her flesh clutching him, fisting him.

  Fuck. It felt… Ah. He kept thrusting and pumping through the tight vise of her sex, keeping the angle that had her gasping.

  “I’m going to come again.”

  And she did, a hard second climax, so hard that he was caught buried to the hilt inside her as her body bowed and held him. Squeezed him until he huffed, “Posie. I—”

  He came and lost the words he was going to say.

  Came harder than he ever imagined possible.

  A century’s worth of pent-up ardor.

  And yet the second and third times were just as intense. She’d just fallen asleep in his arms when he felt the tug.

  “Not now.” He groaned.

  “What’s wrong?” she grumbled in her sleep.

  “I’m being summoned.”

  “Sucks to be you.”

  “I’ll be right back.” He kissed her softly.

  “M’kay.” She snuggled into his pillow and he’d never hated his job more than in that moment.

  Which might have been why, when he appeared in Hell, the first thing he barked was, “What the fuck do you want now?”

  17

  Posie had barely managed to fall asleep when there was a knock. She tried to ignore it. It proved most insistent.

  Rap. Tap. Rap.

  She didn’t want to answer. This wasn’t her apartment. Brody had left, but she had no doubt he’d be back. Call it a gut feeling. After everything he’d shown her, the way he’d worshipped her body… Something had happened between them.

  She’d been in the arms of death and loved it!

  “Open the door, Ms. Ringwald. We really should talk.”

  Her eyes popped open at the loud voice. She glanced at the bedroom door almost expecting to see the person.

  “We don’t have much time.”

  She pursed her lips. It sounded like the angel Raphael. The same one who’d tried to cause trouble by sending that message. She had a thing or two to say to him.

  She took a quick moment to dress but couldn’t do much for her hair
. Only then did she swing open the door and huff, “Stop harassing me.”

  “I am merely trying to prevent a grave mistake from happening.”

  “Too late. You lost. Brody won.”

  How could such a handsome face be so ugly when it smiled? “He hasn’t won yet. The wager wasn’t about copulation, but affection. You haven’t told him you love him.”

  “And? I feel it.”

  “Feelings don’t matter. The bet was quite clear.”

  “Since you’re going to whine about technicalities, then fine.” She tilted her chin. “As soon as he returns, I’ll tell him.”

  “What a shame that he’ll be too late.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “That you’ll never see him again.” Handsome features didn’t make him appealing, and his words only made it worse. “Shall we go for a ride?”

  Raphael reached for her. She tried to evade his grasp, but he proved quick, too quick, and strong. Burly arms wrapped around her and dragged her from the apartment.

  “Let me go.” She struggled to escape his grip.

  “Not yet. First, I’m going to prove to you just how real I am.”

  “Will you release me if I say I believe you’re an angel?”

  “We wouldn’t want there to be any doubts.” Now that he had a hold of her, he dragged her down the hall to the stairwell, shoving her through and then up the steps, all the way onto the roof.

  A few rattling units for air circulation lined the roof. Someone had attempted a bit of outdoor space with strung Christmas lights and mismatched outdoor furniture. Raphael ignored it and dragged her to the parapet.

  Would he kill her? Rather than trying to escape, she clung to him as he stood on the lip. “Put me down.”

  “Haven’t you always wanted to fly?” He dove over the edge.

  She screamed.

  She opened her eyes when she felt a jolt and heard a strange snap. She saw the wings first over his shoulder, massive, beating to draw them upwards.

  She wasn’t going to die, a meat pancake on the sidewalk. Yet. She had to find a way to escape the mad angel.

  “What are you going to do with me?”

  “Do? Nothing now that you’ve let that reaper taint you. It really is a shame you chose him over me. And without even giving me a chance.”

  “Is it really worth having a tantrum over it? Killing me won’t change the fact I am not interested in you.”

  “Who said anything about killing you?” Raphael glanced at her. “I’m about to bestow upon you the greatest honor imaginable. I’m taking you to heaven.”

  “What? No.”

  “Don’t be foolish. This is a rare present I am bestowing. Do you know how many of your kind would do anything to receive this gift?”

  “Then give it to someone else. I don’t want to go with you.”

  He ignored her and continued to arrow upwards.

  “Let me go.”

  “We’re almost there, where you will live for an eternity. In a cell, unfortunately, as we can’t allow someone like you to roam around freely, but better than the alternative.”

  “I’m supposed to go to Hell.”

  “Only the dead are taken there. And with Heaven’s care, that won’t be for a very long time.”

  Oddly enough he gave her the answer she needed. The way to escape.

  Maybe Brody would be there to catch her before she hit.

  18

  “What the fuck do you want now?” Brody yelled into the ash-filled sky of Hell the moment he set foot in it. There was no one there to reply, which didn’t improve his ire.

  Leaving a warm bed with a naked Posie didn’t rate high on his list of things to do. Especially to answer a summons from the Dark Lord.

  However, the reaper contract meant he also couldn’t say no. He noticed that rather than being summoned to the guild ring, he stood outside the Dark Lord’s gate in the first ring, where the most prestigious lived. The castle was directly in the center with no one but the Devil and his wife able to port directly inside.

  Upon passing through the rusty gates—not something he did often, and still awe inspiring after centuries in Hades—Brody found himself in a massive courtyard. The distance was quickly crossed, needing only one pace to bring him to the castle steps where a short, bald fellow with scaly green skin waited for him. Polkadot something or other.

  Poke-a-butler peered over small round-rimmed glasses, a clipboard in hand. “Name.”

  “Brody Reaper. I was summoned.”

  The major domo ran his finger down the parchment before murmuring, “Ah yes. The pimp master.”

  Brody winced.

  “You are right on time. If you would follow me.”

  Polk-a-butler moved more quickly than expected. Brody had to almost jog to keep up as they wound through a series of hallways and even through some chambers. The artwork on the wall proved detailed and brilliant, some of it moving, others watching. Carved statues were scattered, many of impossible beasts. Eclectic furniture crowded some rooms. A collector gone mad.

  Eventually they entered a wide hall with red carpet trimmed in gold, lined with armored statues. Although the occasional shiver of the outfits and creak of a metal joints made him wonder if there was someone inside.

  Polk-a-butler gave a brisk knock at a pair of giant battered gold doors before swinging them open. A pair of hellhounds basked in front of a roaring fireplace and turned flame-filled eyes on him.

  The Devil’s office hadn’t changed much since the last time Brody visited. Still some giant skull of a long extinct animal carved as a desk. Violent and yet captivating murals across the walls. Leather-wrapped club chairs, and the Devil, wearing hospital scrubs in a deep red, smoking a cigar.

  “There he is, the man of the hour. The defiler of humans. About time.”

  But Brody wasn’t in the mood for the Devil’s antics. “What do you want now? I was kind of busy.”

  “No, you weren’t. I waited until you were both worn out before calling. Most excellent job by the way. Despite your long bout of celibacy, you defiled her most profoundly.” The Devil proffered a hand-rolled cigar. “Rolled by Castro himself. Even has a few tears.”

  Brody accepted it but had to say, “I don’t need a reward. Even without the bet, I would have ended up with Posie.” Because his attraction to her had everything to do with the woman herself.

  “The cigar is not because of your dicking skills but because of mine. Gaia just birthed me a fine daughter. A man can never have too many, you know. I recommend them as the progeny of choice, as they tend to take longer to turn against their fathers.” An odd remark that brought a momentary sad cast to the Devil’s face. Ruined by a smirk. “So how was the sex?”

  “I’d rather not discuss my relationship with Posie.”

  “Oh ho, so it’s a relationship now.” Lucifer smirked. “Take it from me. Run, boy, run, before she snares you in the marriage trap.”

  Thunder clapped inside the room. Which seemed odd.

  The Devil glared at the ceiling. “Bloody wench is always listening. Leave me alone.” He shook a fist at the air. “I’m having guy-talk time.”

  “Did you require something from me, my lord?” It was hard to keep respectful when all he wanted was to return to his apartment.

  “I wanted to say that, while I know you tried your hardest, your failure to get the woman to admit her love for you is a disappointment. But in good news, the angels are just as fucked as we are. Once that anti-abortion bill passes, they will slow down their recruiting for a bit.”

  “Wait, what do you mean lost? Posie and I—”

  “Fucked. Yes. I know. And I’m sure had you put the meat to her a few more times, she’d have been emotionally tenderized enough to say the big L word. But alas, we’ve been outmaneuvered.”

  A chill filled him. “What are you talking about? I wasn’t aware there was a timeframe put in place.”

  “There wasn’t. However, I’m afraid Raphael n
ever was a good loser. And yet do they toss him from Heaven? No. Because he’s Elyon’s favorite. Which means he’ll probably be forgiven again for what he’s about to do.”

  “What is he doing?”

  “The thing I’d have expected one of my minions to do if the roles were reversed. Get rid of the woman before she makes them lose a bet to me.”

  The meaning sank in, and Brody got lightheaded then cold. His cloak rose to smother him head to toe.

  “Raphael is an angel. Even he can’t murder in cold blood.”

  “He won’t. I imagine his plan to is lock her up somewhere in heaven and forget about her. Perhaps in time, she’ll end up falling for the handsome angel. Or not. By taking her out of the game, neither side wins the bet.”

  “He can’t lock her up. I won’t let him.”

  “It’s too late.”

  Brody might have called the Devil a liar, but he felt a sudden tug. A summoning of his reaper for a death, the first since his change in job. Icy fear jolted him as he stepped into the nothing place. The knowledge of whom he went to collect hitting him as he crossed space.

  No.

  No.

  No!

  His anguish didn’t matter. He’d arrived too late.

  Raphael didn’t even bother to hide his smirk as he surveyed the mess he’d wrought. “Such a tragedy. I blame her excitement when I told her I was taking her to heaven forever and ever.”

  “Why you—” Brody swelled, his cloak spreading shadow, his scythe bigger than he’d ever managed before.

  Raphael shone bright and sneered. “What will you do, reaper? We both know you’re not allowed to touch me.”

  “You know what the Dark Lord says. Rules are made to be broken.”

  “And you know the consequences.”

  He didn’t care. Not with Posie dead.

  Brody took a step toward the angel, his cloak a ripple of storm and impending doom that suddenly wilted as a tentative voice said, “Brody? Is that you? I knew you’d come.”

  Posie’s soul hovered amidst the wreckage of her mortal body and reached for him, only to have her hand pass right through.

  She frowned and waved her fingers through him again. “Brody?”