Incubus Chocolatier PG-13 Version

by KuroKoneko Kamen

Incubus Chocolatier

  PG-13 Version

  Beware this demonic cupid’s arrows…

  By KuroKoneko Kamen

  Copyright 2015 by KuroKoneko Kamen

  Cover Design by Kyoux

  This is a work of fiction. All characters are invented. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Chapter 1: Smooth White

  Tristan Savant, chocolatier of Dark Heaven, was on top of the world. It couldn’t get any better than this for a single, twenty-three-year-old man - owning his very own chocolate shop that attracted a delectable assortment of young women. Being a chocolatier was the best job. And nothing can beat this view. Tristan thought as he stood behind the display case, which was filled with dozens of different kinds of chocolate bonbons, while observing his shop.

  Several beautiful women were seated at the round tables enjoying tea, coffee and chocolate bonbons that had been served on antique porcelain. The chairs that the women were seated upon were also antiques and had soft, velvet cushions. The most unique feature of the chairs was the pair of white, feathery wings that had been attached to the backs. Some of his other customers were browsing around the shop and checking out the store’s merchandise. There was a wide selection of pre-boxed chocolates, mugs filled with chocolates, and boxes of tea and chocolate combinations. Tristan wanted his customers to feel like the angels they were. A few of the women noticed Tristan watching them and batted their eyelashes at him.

  Tristan was currently filling a gold bag with a half pound of small, heart-shaped chocolates for one of his female customers. On the surface Dark Heaven appeared to be a normal, run-of-the-mill chocolate shop, but that was only until a woman would bite into one of Tristan’s bonbons. She would moan with utter delight as tingles ran up and down her spine.

  The chocolate shop Dark Heaven had a dirty little secret.

  Its owner and chocolatier wasn’t human, but an incubus or sex demon. Well, half-incubus to be entirely accurate. Tristan’s mother was a succubus who’d seduced Tristan’s father Adrian Savant while the man had been sleeping…or perhaps half-awake.

  Because of his dark heritage Tristan needed sex in order to survive. During intercourse he would feed from the sexual energies a woman produced. He was a little like a vampire in that respect - those mysterious creatures of the night that fed on human blood and that had so many stories written about them.

  Since Tristan was only half-incubus he didn’t need to have sex everyday in order to survive, but had to have sex at minimum once a week. If he went longer than one week without sex he would begin to weaken…and would eventually die.

  Tristan knew this because he’d once tried to refrain from having sex for eight days, and had almost died as a result. Thanks to a young woman, who was now a friend of his, he’d been saved. Her name was Carmen Rodriguez, and she was a pianist and singer. It had been a close call and he shuddered at the mere remembrance.

  As a result of Tristan needing sex with women in order to survive he’d decided to open up a chocolate shop. After all women loved chocolate. And maybe women even liked chocolate more than sex. A survey made in the UK with more than two thousand women showed that women prefer chocolate to sex, wine, and cosmetics.

  According to the statistics, 33% of the women dreamed of chocolate during the day, while only 18% thought about sex. As for men, it was discovered that 60% of them thought about sex while only 11% of them thought about chocolate during the day.

  It was pretty obvious that women enjoyed chocolate. But Tristan wondered what would happen when the two were combined? Sex and Chocolate. Fireworks.

  For this very reason Tristan knew the shop would attract young, single women to him and that they would flock to his shop in droves, unwittingly falling into his dark, perverted clutches.

  One bite into one of Tristan’s chocolates and no woman would be able to resist his charms. They would be overcome with a primal lust. The secret to Tristan’s chocolates was that they contained a powerful aphrodisiac. And this aphrodisiac was - get ready for it - actually Tristan’s own spit. Yep, Tristan’s spit was a powerful aphrodisiac that drove women wild with sexual need and desire. For instance, one French kiss from the chocolatier would have the same affect on a woman as an actual aphrodisiac.

  Because Tristan’s chocolates made women feel sexual desire, and some of his chocolates even had the ability to bring a woman to orgasm, Tristan had become an urban legend of sorts in New York City and had gained several nicknames: The Chocolate Sex God, The Chocolate Sex Guru, and the Demonic Cupid.

  Tristan finished filling and weighing the bag of chocolate before handing it to the pretty brunette in front of him. “Here you go, Miss. That will be fifteen dollars and ninety-three cents.”

  “Thank you.” The brunette said as she handed Tristan a twenty-dollar bill. “Keep the change, Loverboy.” She winked the chocolatier’s way before she turned around and sashayed out of the shop.

  A smug expression formed on Tristan’s face as he gazed at all of the horny young women who were currently in his shop nibbling on chocolate and eyeing him like a piece of meat…or chocolate.

  The chocolatier ran a hand back through his silky hair in a pensive gesture. He’d just opened up for the day but he was feeling a little turned on already. Morning wood. Go figure. Tristan decided he could grab a few girls, head on up to his room for some fun, kinky times and take a twenty, no, one hour long break before returning to attend to his other customers. He was sure his customers would understand since it wasn’t like he hadn’t done something like this before. In fact, the girls here expected and anticipated it even. Yep, my life is perfect.

  Tristan was about to hop over the counter and do just that, when-

  He felt a strong grip on his shoulder stopping him. Doh. Tristan turned to see none other than Michael. Michael’s appearance from the kitchen caused a few of the girls to go wild and blurt out random comments. “Eeee! It’s Michael!” “Hey Michael!” “Who’s he?” “The new assistant chocolatier, duh.” “Michael, I love you!”

  Yep, Tristan’s life had been perfect - until Michael.

  Tristan had been handling the shop all by himself until last Valentine’s Day when his friends had discovered him unceremoniously passed out on the kitchen floor. After that they’d stubbornly insisted that Tristan get someone to help him out at the shop. His friends had recommended Michael to become his assistant chocolatier and Tristan had naïvely agreed.

  Tristan looked Michael over. He was wearing his new chocolatier uniform that consisted of a white, double-breasted jacket with two rows of black buttons going down the front, a red neckerchief, black pants, a long, chocolate-colored apron and a pair of dress shoes. Tristan wore a similar jacket, but with a dark blue neckerchief, black pants, a black apron instead of brown, and Italian dress shoes.

  Michael was looking handsome and slick in his chocolatier outfit…not that Tristan swung that way or anything, but he could appreciate another man’s good looks (he was an incubus after all). Michael had wavy, shoulder-length, blonde hair, golden-brown eyes, bronzed skin, and chiseled features. He was taller than Tristan at six-five whereas Tristan was six-three. Michael also had a more muscular physique than Tristan who was more lithe.

  Tristan frowned at the women’s response to Michael’s appearance. It wasn’t that Tristan felt challenged by Michael’s good looks…

  Michael wasn’t even human. In fact, Michael was a straight-laced Archangel in disguise. Well, he claimed to be Tristan’s guardian angel. But the angel had already let the cat of the bag about the real reason why he’d wanted to work at Dark Heaven, and that was that Michael felt Tristan needed supervisio
n due to his sinful ways.

  Tristan wasn’t stingy with his admirers and wouldn’t have minded having a threesome with the guy, but unfortunately Michael was a complete goody-two-shoes. A real stick in the chocolate. A prude. The list went on.

  For some crazy reason, Michael didn’t like it that Tristan had so much sex. Well, sex with a different girl each time and never with the same girl. Tristan preferred one-night stands. He didn’t want to make love to women; he just wanted to do them. And Michael kept trying to convince Tristan to pick one girl and get into a serious relationship with her. Crazy angel.

  “And where do you think you’re going, Boss?” Michael growled in a low voice.

  Tristan turned to give Michael an innocent look. “Nowhere…apparently.” Michael let go of Tristan’s shoulder. The Archangel kept an annoyingly close watch on Tristan and had known exactly what the chocolatier had been up to, which is why he’d put a stop to it.

  That was just mean, man. Tristan pouted mentally. He supposed that he’d just have to deal with the feeling of being turned on for the rest of the workday. Darn it. Luckily, his apron hid his arousal.

  Michael crossed his arms over his chest as he continued to watch Tristan serve customers. His expression turned suspicious and he frowned when Tristan began to act as though everything were normal and under control.

  Tristan ignored him. He was so turned on that the briefest movement caused Tristan to shudder. As a result, Tristan’s pheromones began to leak from his pores uncontrollably. The scent of spicy oranges and dark chocolate began to waft through the shop and drifted to the noses of the female clientele. The women breathed in deep, and trembled with desire. Some even fainted.

  Michael’s eyes widened when he realized what was going on and he reached out to grab Tristan’s shoulder again before squeezing it painfully. Tristan hissed at the sensation. At this point any kind of physical contact felt divine even if it was from a stubborn, male angel. “Tristan, do try to control yourself. You’re affecting the women.”

  “I…can’t help it…I’m turned on…” Tristan whined petulantly. “If you’d just let me grab one of these girls and head up to my room I could-”

  “No. No way.” Michael shook his head, his expression adamant. “No more meaningless romps in the hay. Go take care of yourself in the bathroom.”

  “Romp in the hay? No one says that anymore, man.” Tristan gave Michael a look of disbelief as the last part of what he’d said sunk in, “You mean alone?” He gave the angel a dismayed look.

  Michael just raised his eyebrow at the chocolatier.

  “What about a toy or two?” Tristan ventured to ask. Hey, if you don’t ask you don’t receive.

  The Archangel’s eyebrow twitched. “No toys. Just go!” Michael steered Tristan to the bathroom with both hands on Tristan’s shoulders, shoved him inside, and slammed the door shut.

  Tristan sighed as he pictured the women inside of his shop with their lustful gazes, and took care of his affliction. The chocolatier felt a little weak afterwards instead of being strengthened by his sexual activity, however. This was because he’d just expelled sexual energy - not received it. He needed to get laid…and soon. But with Michael watching him like a hawk, things were getting desperate. Well, if Michael wouldn’t let him sleep with one of his customers, his next best bet was…a bridesmaid.

  Yep, a bridesmaid. Tristan had a wedding to go to tomorrow and it wasn’t just any wedding either. It was the wedding of his two friends Joan Simone and Dante Cromwell. Joan happened to be the reincarnation of Joan of Arc and was currently working as a waitress at an Irish pub called Dullahan’s. That’s where she’d met Dante, who was working there as a bartender.

  Formerly, Dante had been a demon known as Duke Dantalion. He was human now. It was a long story. But Dante had been awakened on Earth in order to await Satan’s orders and the Apocalypse; only he’d chosen to be with Joan instead. Tristan had also learned that Dante had been Joan’s lover in her past life. Actually, Dante had been the reason God had forsaken Joan of Arc and she’d been burned at the stake. She’d fallen in love with the demon commander whom she was supposed to kill. Joan had spared his life and God had condemned her.

  But the lovers had been reunited more than five centuries later at Dullahan’s, fallen in love with each other all over again, and after several trials were finally allowed to be together. So it was a happy ending.

  Ah, star-crossed love. The chocolatier mentally sighed. This is going to be the wedding of the century.

  Tristan had met the couple at Dullahan’s and through a strange series of events had ended up befriending them. Tristan valued their friendship because they were some of his only true friends. It wasn’t easy for Tristan to make friends. Men would grow jealous of Tristan’s appeal to women and women would fall in love with him. But Joan was different. She loved Dante and only had eyes for him. And Dante could care less about Tristan’s appeal to women as long as he kept his perverted paws away from Joan. (Dante’s words not Tristan’s).

  Previously, Michael had been Joan’s guardian angel, but had been reassigned to Tristan. At first, Michael had claimed that he just wanted to help Tristan out at the shop by being his assistant chocolatier and guardian angel. But Tristan had the feeling Michael had been assigned by the Big Dude in the Sky to watch over Tristan and his sinful ways. Later, Michael only confirmed his suspicions. And now Tristan was struck with Michael The Prude.

  Tristan shoved his limp member back into his pants and sighed heavily at the thought. He made his way back into the main shop area and went behind the gigantic glass display case. A few women were still passed out on the floor…

  Michael was back inside of the kitchen practicing how to temper chocolate. Feeling loads more relaxed, Tristan handled customers professionally for the rest of the day without incident. Being professional kind of sucks.

  At six o’clock Tristan closed the shop and made his way into the kitchen where Michael was making a mess. Chocolate was everywhere - splattered across the counter and on Michael’s white jacket. Tristan moved behind Michael and grabbed his wrists that still held the pastry scraper and angled spatula. “That’s not how you do it, silly angel. Here, let me help you.” Tristan offered as he began to guide Michael’s movements as he spread melted chocolate across a marble slab, moved it to the center, and cleaned the scraper with the spatula.

  “How long do we do this for?” Michael asked.

  “The process of spreading and scraping the chocolate is continued until the desired temperature of 82 degrees Fahrenheit is reached…since this is dark chocolate.”

  “What is this ‘tempering’ supposed to do to the chocolate exactly?” The Archangel asked curiously.

  “When you temper chocolate the finished product will have a profession sheen, snap and taste. I get that you’ve just been copying what you’ve seen me doing, but you really should learn the proper steps from the beginning. Traditionally, chocolate is tempered by pouring melted chocolate onto a tempering stone and worked into a ‘mush’ as it cools. To begin, melt up to one pound of chocolate in a double boiler. Check the temperature of the chocolate using the infrared, point-and-shoot, digital thermometer like the one we have on the counter.” Tristan nodded in the thermometer’s direction. “For dark chocolate the temperature should be 120 degrees Fahrenheit, for milk chocolate 115 degrees Fahrenheit, and for white chocolate 110 degrees Fahrenheit. Pour two-thirds on the marble slab while keeping the other one-third at the same melting point temperature, and do not let it harden.” Tristan readily explained the process to Michael and there was a note of passion in his voice.

  Michael let out a low whistle at Tristan’s knowledge, and suddenly felt a little bad now since he’d thought Tristan didn’t really care about making chocolate or whether or not he was doing it accurately. Michael had always assumed Tristan was only making chocolate since it would attract the ladies, but…Tristan’s extensive knowledge in how to properly temper chocolate r
evealed that Tristan really did care about being a chocolatier.

  “At that point you’ve reached the stage we’re at now where you spread and scrape the chocolate until the chocolate cools to the following temperatures: dark chocolate 82 degrees Fahrenheit, milk chocolate 80 degrees Fahrenheit, and white chocolate 78 degrees Fahrenheit. Afterwards, we’ll add the ‘mush’ to the remaining one-third melted chocolate and stir the chocolate until smooth. Then we’ll return the mixture to heat, stirring constantly until the desired temperature is reached. For dark chocolate it should register at 90 degrees Fahrenheit, 86 degrees Fahrenheit for milk chocolate, and 82 degrees Fahrenheit for white chocoalte. Think you can remember all that, angel?” Tristan gave the Archangel a haughty look over his shoulder.

  “Yes, I believe so.” With Tristan’s guidance Michael’s movements instantly became more fluid. Michael was a fast learner. However, when Tristan pressed up against him further Michael could feel that Tristan was turned on. “You’re still freakin turned on?” Michael’s lip curled with disgust.

  “You know it.”

  Michael growled low in his throat and shoved Tristan away from him. “Freakin pervert…control yourself!”

  Tristan sighed. “I can’t. Come on, just let me get a woman.” There was a desperate edge to the chocolatier’s voice.

  “Oh, you mean a girlfriend? Then…okay.” Michael said in a tone of voice which pretty much said ‘do you want to argue about this?’.

  Tristan’s bi-colored eyes narrowed. “You know I can’t have a girlfriend. I don’t make love to girls, Michael…I do them.”

  “Why?” Michael challenged.

  “None of your business.” The incubus snapped.

  “Actually, it is my business. I’m your guardian angel now and I can’t condone your sinful lifestyle. It’s got to change, and that means no more one-night stands.” Michael crossed his arms over his chest causing more chocolate to splatter onto his jacket.

  Tristan cringed at Michael’s messiness and clenched his hands into fists at his sides. “You know what, Michael? Screw you. You just don’t understand!”

  “You’re right. But I don’t understand because you won’t talk to me! After all this time you still won’t tell me your reasons for not wanting to get into a serious relationship with a girl.” Michael let out a frustrated huff. “But I won’t let you condemn yourself.”

  Tristan ran a frustrated hand back through his hair, “I don’t have time for this crap. I have to make Joan and Dante’s wedding cake.”

  Michael blinked and gave Tristan a surprised look. “Their wedding cake? But I thought you said that your skills at baking were sub-par?”

  Tristan rolled his eyes. “I do suck, but…I couldn’t refuse a beautiful woman’s request. I’ll figure something out. How hard can it be to bake a cake? At least, I know I’ll be able to ice it and decorate it with chocolate panels to perfection.”

  “Fine. I’ll help.” Michael offered.

  “No offense but…you’ll just get in my way. I don’t need another amateur in the kitchen. It would just be the blind leading the blind in here. I have to figure this out on my own. And I don’t feel like dealing with you right now either.” The chocolatier’s bi-colored eyes held a coldness as they gazed back at the Archangel.

  “Fine.” Michael took off his apron and threw it on the kitchen island angrily. “Good luck with that.”

  Tristan watched Michael leave the kitchen and head towards the back of the establishment where there was a staircase that led to the second floor. The second floor had a series of rooms - one was Tristan’s bedroom, and another was a guest bedroom that was currently being used by Michael. The angel had moved into Tristan’s guest bedroom without his permission.

  Tristan’s perfect bachelor lifestyle had been ruined by the arrival of that pesky angel. The incubus let out another sigh. He’d been doing that a lot lately. Tristan cleaned up the chocolate and counter before getting out all of the needed ingredients to bake the wedding cake.

  He looked down at the recipe on the open page in his recipe book: 1 cup of butter, 3 cups sugar, 7 eggs, 1 teaspoon vanilla extract, 3 cups all-purpose flour, 1/4 teaspoon baking powder, 1/4 teaspoon baking soda, and 1 cup sour cream. Tristan preheated the oven to 325 degrees Fahrenheit. After that he greased and floured the three pans that would be used to make the three tiers of the wedding cake.

  In a large bowl Tristan mixed the ingredients together, stirring vigorously with a wooden spoon until the mixture was smooth and appeared to have no lumps. Following the instructions had been relatively easy, and his batter looked okay.

  Tristan poured the batter into the three circular baking pans before putting them into the oven. He then set his timer for sixty minutes and waited. The timer went off, Tristan removed one of the cakes and noted that it looked perfect. However, as he was looking at it the cake’s center suddenly collapsed within the pan. Doh! Tristan scratched his head. What the hell had made that happen? He wondered, realizing that he would have to start over from scratch.

  Tristan remade the batter, poured it into the pans, and put them into the oven. He waited sixty minutes and when the timer went off he took one of the cakes out of the oven. This time the cake didn’t collapse in on itself. Phew! Tristan set the pan down on the counter and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. He flipped the pan over, and waited until he could feel that the cake had fallen out and lifted the pan so he could begin working on it. However, as he removed the pan the cake split down the middle and appeared to have been too dry to hold together properly.

  “No! Darn it!” Tristan took deep breaths as he tried to calm himself down. It was already eleven o’clock but he’d just have to keep on trying until he got this cake done. It was his friends’ wedding for heaven’s sake! He couldn’t fail them.

  Over the course of the evening, Tristan tried to bake the cake again and again, but each time something went wrong with the cake and it was rendered unusable. Hours later, Tristan flipped his latest pan over and as he slowly lifted the pan up off the cake it once again fell to pieces. Crap. He wiped sweat from his brow with a trembling hand. He’d have to try again. Black spots swam in his vision and a wave of dizziness swept over him causing him to sway on his feet. He felt weak. He needed sex.

  But Tristan had to bake this cake. “No…I can’t pass out. I have to bake this cake…even if it kills me.” The chocolatier vowed aloud, and this was the last thing Tristan remembered before he fell into unconsciousness.

  ***

  Issy Sweet, Tristan’s stalker, was peering in through the window of Dark Heaven that overlooked the kitchen and watching Tristan attempt to bake a cake. She had no idea why Tristan was trying to bake a cake when his skills lay in making chocolate. But as she watched him fail again and again, but not give up - she realized that this must be very important to him.

  At three o’clock in the morning, when Tristan’s latest attempt failed Issy watched as he swayed on his feet and vowed that he’d finish the cake even if it killed him. This was right before he passed out and fell face-first onto the floor with a smack that made Issy cringe with sympathy pains. “Tristan!” She exclaimed before sliding the small window open and hopping inside of the kitchen. This was an easy feat for Issy who was petite at five-three.

  The stalker made her way over to Tristan, crouched by his side, and turned him over onto his back. There was blood on his forehead. Issy rushed to the bathroom, found the first-aid kit, and returned to clean and bandage Tristan’s head injury. She brushed a lock of hair back from his handsome face as she observed him during this stolen moment. He looked pale. Paler than usual. She frowned. “He looks pale…has he had sex recently? I wonder.”

  Yes, that’s right, Issy knew that Tristan Savant was an incubus or some kind of sex demon, and that he needed sex in order to survive. She’d been stalking him for more than a year now, and had learned many of his secrets. Though there was still a lot she didn’t know about him, mainl
y about his family.

  After obtaining an associate’s degree in the baking and pastry arts, as well as a degree in the culinary arts from the International Culinary School at the Art Institute in Los Angeles, California, she’d traveled to New York City to attend a baking seminar, hoping to learn some tips from a famous French patissier. Around this time, things had been going well for Issy. She’d been pursuing her dream of becoming a patissiere and was engaged to the love of her life.

  However, during her trip her fiancé Tre Goldberg sent her a text. A break up text. Issy had been distraught and had fled her hotel in a daze. She hadn’t even noticed that it was raining outside. She didn’t know for how long she ran in the rain only that eventually her legs gave out from under her and she collapsed on the ground. Issy lay there getting soaked in the rain until suddenly the rain stopped. When Issy looked up she saw a handsome young man with bi-colored eyes who was smiling down at her and holding an umbrella over her. “Why don’t you come inside my shop and have some hot chocolate, little girl? My shop is just over there.” He’d said in a friendly manner and Issy had looked past him to see a white building with Victorian architecture. The sign hung over the front door read: Dark Heaven.

  It was during this encounter that Issy fell in love with Tristan due to the unexpected kindness he’d shown her that horrible night. After that she’d decided to rent an apartment that was in the building directly next to Dark Heaven and had been stalking Tristan ever since. At first, she’d shyly watched him from afar while trying to gain the confidence to approach him, and in the process noted how popular he was with women. However, because of his incredible popularity she became too intimidated to approach him.

  Issy got into the routine of simply watching him from afar. She’d been on the outside looking in, and that’s why she’d begun to notice things about him - strange things. Like how his chocolate would make women feel lust, and the strange effect his scent seemed to have on women too. There were even rumors that he was a ‘sex god’. The chocolatier Tristan Savant had become an urban legend of sorts in New York City.

  One day, while she’d been spying on Tristan making chocolates in his kitchen she’d caught him spitting into his chocolate! At first she thought he was being evil and sabotaging it, but when she saw him smile almost proudly she began to suspect differently. Spitting in chocolate was definitely not normal behavior and she’d begun to suspect that Tristan wasn’t exactly human. She began to wonder if perhaps everyone was right and Tristan really was a ‘sex god’.

  But then one day, she’d followed Tristan to Dullahan’s an Irish Pub where he’d befriended a handsome bartender, Dante, and a fiery waitress, Joan. She’d observed Tristan’s new friendship with these strange people until one night, Joan was kidnapped, and Dante, Tristan, Alan (the owner of Dullahan’s), and their dog (a golden retriever) had gone to rescue her. Issy had followed the group, planning on helping them if she could, but had watched them enter some kind of portal and just disappear.

  Issy stayed close to where the portal had opened and was sick with worry for days. Finally, the group did return, but when they emerged from the portal Tristan had appeared different. His ears had been pointed, and he’d had a long, dark blue tail with a heart-shaped barb at the end swishing behind him. A tail?! Issy had thought frantically. When her gaze had shifted to Dante she saw that the bartender had horns, fangs and a pair of large, bat-like wings outstretched behind him. Issy had swayed on her feet, feeling faint. After a few minutes their appearances had returned to normal, but Issy finally knew the truth:

  Tristan was a demon.

  A sexy demon.

  Presently, Issy looked down at Tristan’s unconscious form. He looked human now. Tristan had silky, shoulder-length, black hair that was so black it almost appeared dark blue. Issy ached to run her fingers through his hair and see what it felt like. The chocolatier was extremely pale, paler than usual with his alabaster skin. His face was gorgeous with its chiseled features and high cheekbones that gave him the otherworldly, aristocratic, noble look that the vampires of Hollywood tended to have. He had a lithe, muscular body with long, powerful legs that were a work of art. Tristan’s legs were his most deadly feature. She’d seen him fight using them before when she’d stalked him to his Savate and Capoeira classes.

  Sadly, Issy was unable to admire her favorite feature of Tristan’s, which were his eyes. Tristan had heterochromatic eyes - his right eye was a gold, yellow color and his left eye was a deep, sapphire blue. His eyes were so gorgeous, unique, mesmerizing…but also lonely.

  Yes, lonely.

  Even though Tristan was always surrounded by a flock of beautiful women, and was always seen laughing, smiling, flirting and making jokes - his eyes had always appeared to look lonely. This haunted her.

  Issy wished deep in her heart that she could be the one to ease his loneliness but…she also knew she probably wouldn’t be able to. She’d followed him to a cemetery one day and seen him breakdown at a woman’s grave. Tristan had been in love once.

  Issy supposed that he’d decided to never fall in love again, and that’s why he only ever had one-night stands. She’d noticed that he never slept with the same woman twice. Issy didn’t want to be just another notch in his belt. She had too much pride for that, and so she just continued to watch him from afar. She also wouldn’t be hurt or left behind this way. Issy supposed her discovery that Tristan was a demon should have bothered her more, but she was pretty eccentric, and a little strange and unusual herself. Not exactly normal.

  Issy Sweet was a patissiere who made novelty and specialty cakes that were imaginative, artsy and creative. She’d made cakes in the strangest shapes: a baby carriage, a giant Oreo cookie, a car, a dog, a roller blade, and a cake for a child’s birthday with the birds from the game Angry Birds on it.

  Issy was also an avid fantasy and paranormal romance novel reader. She was a big Lords of the Underworld and Immortals After Dark fan - tales of vampires, werewolves and demons falling in love. Of course she’d read classic fantasy stories like Lord of the Rings and was a Harry Potter fan too. She’d dressed up and cosplayed as an elf, and gone to Comic-Con. Her thinking was definitely a little out there because of this.

  After her fiancé Tre had broken up with her, he’d even sent her a picture of his new girlfriend. The young woman had been the total opposite of Issy - tall, big-boobed, blonde. A typical California girl.

  After this blow to her ego, Issy had decided to ‘reinvent’ herself. She’d seen famous ‘Living Dolls’ in California like Venus Angelic and Luna Lovely, and so had decided to become one while in New York City where no one knew her and wouldn’t recognize her.

  What is a ‘Living Doll’ one may ask? A ‘Living Doll’ is someone who chooses to dress up like a Victorian porcelain doll everyday in pretty dresses, bonnets, gloves, chokers, and patent leather shoes. Living Dolls would enjoy a dolly lifestyle consisting of going to tea parties in the park, baking cookies, shopping for cute accessories and reading books like Alice in Wonderland or if they were of an appropriate age Her Mad Hatter.

  Being a Living Doll enabled Issy to live in a fantasy world of her own creation and she was able to escape from the reality of how the love of her life had left her for another woman and about how she’d failed to get the loan she needed in order to open her very own bakery.

  Becoming a Living Doll was also the best way to stay out of Tristan’s radar. She’d noticed that he only went out with girls who were eighteen or older. Issy was twenty-three but half-Japanese, and as a result she was very petite and skinny. She could pull off being fifteen for example, especially when dressed up in frilly, doll dresses and colorful wigs. Issy decided that if Tristan ran into her he’d think she was a ‘little girl’ - just like the first time they’d met in the rain. It would be perfect.

  At the moment, she was dressed like a doll, but her outfit was concealed beneath her ‘stalker outfit’. Her stalker outfit consisted of a long, black trench coat, fedor
a, and a pair of over-sized dark sunglasses.

  Yes, she knew she looked like a creepy, perverted stalker…but that’s what she was! Issy had to resist molesting Tristan in his sleep as she looked down at him. He was completely unconscious and at her mercy. She could lift up his jacket and run her hands over his muscular chest and six-pack abs. She could lean over him and press her lips to his…and kiss his sensual lips.

  Issy had to wipe the blood from her nose with the back of her hand. Although she could imagine doing such sinful things to him, she’d never actually touch Tristan without his permission because that would be wrong. Even so, the urge was there and it surprised her. Was this because of Tristan’s unique demon pheromones? If another girl were in Issy’s place would she have molested Tristan in his sleep? This thought made her frown. Tristan’s existence seemed to be both a blessing and a curse.

  Issy stood up and wiped her hands off on her jacket. She would protect Tristan, even from herself because she considered herself to be Tristan’s ‘secret guardian angel’. She’d even saved him a few times - secretly of course - from some odd occurrences. For example, one of Tristan’s fans had locked him up in her basement this one time. Issy had waited until the girl had left her home before unlocking the basement door so that Tristan could escape.

  And right now, Tristan obviously needed her again. He needed a cake and this was her specialty. Issy walked over to the kitchen island and peered down at the open recipe book. The recipe was for a three-tiered wedding cake with chocolate panels decorating the outside.

  “A wedding cake…?” Issy’s heart skipped a beat before she frowned. As Tristan’s stalker she should have known who was getting married. Issy pressed her index finger into the middle of her forehead as she thought about it and after a few minutes of thinking she supposed it was probably Joan and Dante! Joan was pregnant after all. A demon marrying the reincarnation of Joan of Arc. Yep, Issy knew about that too.

  This cake had to be amazing. Issy set to work making the batter for the cake. In a large bowl she mixed the butter and sugar into a cream. In another bowl she beat the eggs, one at a time, mixing well after each was added and then she stirred in the vanilla. Once she combined the flour, baking soda, and baking powder, she added this to the cream mixture and mixed until all the flour was absorbed. Finally, she stirred in the sour cream. The patissiere mixed for a few minutes to make sure there were no lumps.

  Issy looked down at the batter and grinned. It looked perfect. She poured the batter into the greased and floured cake pans, and put them into the preheated oven. Issy also put a toothpick in the center of each pan. When the toothpick came out clean - this is when she would know that the cake was ready. She checked the cake at forty-five minutes and then again at fifty minutes. At fifty minutes of baking the toothpick came out of the cake clean and so she removed the cake out of the oven.

  Overbaking could cause the cake to turn out too dry and would cause it to break or crumble. Using oven mitts she carried the pans to the counter and then flipped them over. She waited until the cakes slid down out of the pans by themselves before sliding the pans off of the cakes. All three cakes had turned out perfectly and none of them had crumbled or broken. As always. Issy baked with love. As she’d baked she put all of her feeling of love that she felt for Tristan into the cakes she’d just made too.

  After the cakes had cooled sufficiently, she stacked the layers. Issy wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. “Phew. Done.” She’d leave the chocolate panel decorations to Tristan. After a moment of thought Issy decided to make a marzipan doll of Joan in a wedding dress and another doll of Dante in a smart tuxedo. The two dolls would be just too cute on top of the cake.

  Issy set the finished dolls down next to the cake and then snuck out the window. She was sure Michael would wake up soon since he was an early riser and discover Tristan in time to wake him up so that he could get started on the chocolate panels. “Goodbye Tristan…dream of me.” Issy was just pulling herself out the window, when-

  Someone latched onto her ankle in a vice grip. “Ack!” She looked behind her and saw that it was none other than Michael, Tristan’s new assistant chocolatier. “Michael! Let go!” Issy jerked her leg while trying to get him to let it go.

  Michael only tugged harder. “Oh hell no. Who the hell are you? What did you do to Tristan?” He growled lowly.

  “I didn’t do anything!” Issy struggled against Michael’s grasp, and managed to free her leg long enough to send her foot flying into Michael’s forehead in a mule kick. Michael fell back to the floor with a crash.

  The crash woke Tristan, who sat up with a groan. His head hurt and he felt weak. The chocolatier turned to see Michael on his butt and looking pissed.

  Michael quickly stood back up and shook his fist at the window. “Get back here, you sick pervert!”

  Tristan raised an eyebrow at Michael’s antics, “Dude, what are you doing?”

  Michael spun to face Tristan with a heated look, “There was someone suspicious dressed in a fedora, trench coat and dark sunglasses escaping out the window. And you were unconscious on the floor. Who knows what that pervert did to you. I’m going after him-”

  Tristan snorted, interrupting Michael, and stood up. He waved his hand dismissively through the air. “No need. That was just my stalker.”

  Michael blinked. “Your stalker…ah, you mentioned you had a stalker before. That was her? What’s a girl doing going around dressed like a pervert?”

  Tristan shrugged, looking amused, “Hell if I know…but she’s harmless. She’s just a kid and she’s such a tiny, little thing. Besides, she’s been stalking me for a year…and she’s never done anything perverted to me.” At that moment he felt the bandage that was wrapped around his head and raised his hand to touch it curiously. When Tristan had fainted, he realized that he must have fallen face-first and that his stalker must have tended to his wounds. He smiled at the thought. But Tristan’s smile faltered when he remembered his current situation and the unfinished wedding cake. “Oh no! The cake!” Tristan shouted and spun towards the kitchen island. Tristan’s jaw dropped at the sight before him and he gawked. Sitting there on the counter was a three-tiered, vanilla sponge cake.

  Michael looked at the cake curiously, “What about it? Looks fine to me. In fact, it looks great.”

  Tristan approached the cake and stroked his chin as he inspected it. “Thanks, but I didn’t bake this.”

  “Huh? What are you saying? If you didn’t bake it - then who did?” Michael huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “My stalker?”

  “Your stalker…knows how to bake?”

  Tristan nodded. “Yep. She’s left me these delicious cupcakes of hers before.” The chocolatier began to drool just thinking about them.

  Michael’s expression turned aghast. “Let me get this straight. Your stalker left you a plate of cupcakes and you actually ate them? You idiot, they could have been poisoned!” The Archangel burst out angrily.

  Tristan waved Michael’s concerns away, “Naw, a little girl would never do something like that. They were delicious.”

  Michael slapped a hand to his forehead in disbelief with a smack. Tristan’s weakness was definitely females. “If you say so.” But just in case Michael waved his hand over the cake to check it for poison. The Archangel didn’t sense anything amiss and his unease faded. A stalker girl who bakes. Huh. I wonder what she’s like and if perhaps she’d be willing to work at Dark Heaven. Tristan needs more people working here. This shop has gotten very popular lately and he can’t handle all of its customers on his own. If she doesn’t seem dangerous I should try and convince Tristan to hire her.

  “Aw crap…I’ve got to get started on the chocolate panels.” Tristan quickly began to make the chocolate panels that he would use to decorate the outside of the wedding cake. The incubus made a large, flat slab of dark chocolate and once it was hard, he decorated it by hand-piping white chocolate
swirls on it. He also made a slab of white chocolate and decorated it with swirls of dark chocolate. Tristan then cut the large sheets of chocolate into smaller rectangular pieces or panels that he would attach to the exterior of the cake.

  Using icing he attached the dark chocolate panels around the bottom layer. He then attached the white chocolate panels to the middle layer, and after that attached the remaining dark chocolate panels to the top layer. Once he was finished with attaching the panels, he decorated the cake with dark chocolate and white chocolate roses, which he arranged close to the center of each layer.

  The dark chocolate represents Dante, who is the dark in love with the light. Joan is represented by the white chocolate on the cake. Tristan thought to himself with a lopsided smile on his face.

  It was the perfect cake for his two friends to represent their star-crossed love. Tristan noticed the little marzipan dolls that looked just like Bride Joan and Groom Dante. Tristan arranged the dolls on the very top of the cake carefully. The marzipan dolls had been artfully made. My stalker has mad skills.

  The million dollar question of the day was: would Joan be wearing a wedding dress? Joan was a feminist, usually wore pants, and hated to wear skirts. Tristan was looking forward to seeing what Joan would end up wearing.

  Michael helped Tristan to decorate the cake with the chocolate roses and they were done in no time. “Phew, we made it!” Tristan exclaimed when they finally finished.

  Michael gave Tristan an exasperated look. “You’re lucky you have such a skilled stalker and that the cake wasn’t poisoned.”

  Tristan raised his leg so he could kick Michael’s arm. He didn’t use his hands to fight since they were precious tools for making chocolate and pleasuring the ladies. “So morbid. You’re supposed to have faith in humanity, you know. You’re an angel.”

  “Women go crazy whenever you’re concerned.” Michael shrugged carelessly.

  A dark shadow fell over Tristan’s face, however. “Not cool, man.”

  Michael wasn’t really sure why this seemed to be a sensitive subject with Tristan but he found himself apologizing anyways. “Sorry.”

  “Whatever…let’s go put on our tuxes. I’ll help you out since I doubt you’ve ever worn a tux before. You have to look great since you’re the Best Man!” Tristan said, trying to lighten the mood.

  Michael scowled at the thought of wearing a tux. “Very well.”

  Tristan noted that Michael sounded less than enthused by the prospect, and that he was frowning. Michael used to be Joan of Arc’s guardian angel. And not only that, he’d been in love with her for centuries and today she was marrying another man.

  Tristan suddenly realized how tactless he was being. He could only imagine how Michael must be feeling. “Hey…we don’t have to go if you don’t want to. We could play hooky and just show up at the reception.”

  Michael gave Tristan a grateful look. “No…I can handle it. Joan is my…friend. I have to be there. Even Dante is my friend now too. I care about them both. I have to be there.” A steely look formed in his golden-brown eyes.

  “If you say so, man.” Tristan gave Michael a skeptical look.

  “But thank you for the offer, Tristan. I could have just blamed not being there on your ineptitude at baking.” The Archangel smirked.

  “Hey!”

  After somehow managing to get through the fiasco of teaching an ancient Archangel how to properly wear a tux, Tristan was finally driving them both to the wedding venue in his 1965 Corvette Stingray. The convertible was an electric blue two-seater with cloth top. This car was Tristan’s baby. And a real babe magnet. Michael was silent and grumpy in the passenger’s seat. Tristan rolled his eyes since the angel was angry that Tristan had taken so long to get ready and had accused Tristan of ‘acting like a woman’. But what Michael didn’t know is that Tristan wanted to look his best because he planned to seduce one…maybe all of the bridesmaids that were at Joan’s wedding. Gosh darn it, I really need to get laid.

  The wedding venue was at Riverside Church. A Christian church that was located at 120th Street and 490 Riverside Drive in New York’s Upper Manhattan neighborhood of Morning Heights. The church was enormous with elaborate Neo-Gothic architecture. Tristan parked right in front and got out of his convertible, followed by Michael. In front of the church Tristan spotted their friends waiting for them and approached. Tristan’s gaze immediately focused upon Joan’s supermodel best friend, Kimberly Eden, who was the Maid of Honor along with Kim’s supermodel friends who were acting as Joan’s bridesmaids.

  Supermodel bridesmaids. My prayers have been answered. Thank you God. An excited leer spread across Tristan’s face as he ogled the girls openly.

  Oh no. Michael inwardly groaned as soon as he caught sight of the beautiful (and desperate) single women. Surely, Tristan would be interested in them…? Michael turned to look at Tristan. Sure enough the chocolatier was checking out the supermodel bridesmaids with a wolfish look on his face.

  Tristan opened his arms wide. “Come to Papa.”

  The supermodels giggled at Tristan’s strange behavior but then one of the women unexpectedly smacked Tristan on the back of his head. “Ow! What the hell was that for?” Tristan spun to see who had hit him and saw his friend Carmen. Carmen was a Latin beauty with long, wavy, black hair, chocolate-brown eyes, olive-hued skin, and sinful curves. She was the singer and pianist at Dullahan’s Irish Pub.

  Tristan’s bi-colored immediately warmed when he recognized his friend from college. “Carmen!”

  “If you’re going to be ogling anyone it should be me.” Carmen scolded with a playful pout of her kissable red lips.

  Tristan looked Carmen over from head to toe. Joan had chosen some very classic looking bridesmaid dresses for the girls to wear. Carmen’s dress was black, strapless and flared out at the waist to her knees. A white silk belt was tied around her waist in a bow. Kim’s dress was cut similarly but in white, and had a black silk belt tied around her waist. The rest of the bridesmaids had on either black or white dresses with contrasting belts.

  Carmen had a pair of red stilettos on her feet making her the rebel to the dress code. Tristan grinned. “You look beautiful, Carmen.”

  Carmen actually blushed and this surprised Michael. Carmen was a half-succubus. Her father was an incubus whom Carmen had never met. Tristan had assured Michael upon an earlier occasion that he and Carmen were just friends but…something had passed fleetingly over Carmen’s visage just then. I wonder. Michael thought to himself as he stroked his square jaw.

  “Thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself, cariño.” Carmen raked her eyes over Tristan’s tuxedo clad form.

  Michael rolled his eyes. Incubi. They only ever had one thing on their minds.

  “Hey guys, we should get inside.” Came a shy voice. Michael turned to see Alan Dullahan, the owner of the Irish Pub and Kim’s boyfriend. Alan was wearing a tuxedo and looking handsome with his blonde hair covering half his face and only one of his blue eyes visible. Alan was closer to Dante than Michael…and he hoped the young man held no hard feelings that Michael had been chosen as Dante’s Best Man. Joan had requested it of Dante, and whatever his mate asked of him Dante allowed. “Joan should be arriving any second now!”

  “He’s right. Let’s enter and take our positions.” Michael agreed and everyone made his or her way into the church. The interior of Riverside Church was just as impressive as its exterior with high vaulted ceilings, archways on either side of the aisle that were supported by columns, and colorful, tall, stained-glass windows. Wooden pews were situated on either side of the center aisle, and the altar at the back of the church had a golden cross hanging above it.

  A priest stood in front of the altar, and next to him stood Dante. The ex-demon Duke of Hell was looking quite dashing in his tuxedo. His golden eyes were flickering with anticipation as he waited for a glimpse of his bride, and his wavy, black hair had been styled to perfection.

  The
group of friends made their way down the aisle and to the altar. Michael, Tristan and Alan stood next to Dante while Kim, Carmen and the supermodels stood on the other side.

  Michael eyed all of the people who were there to attend the wedding suspiciously. Who the hell are all these people? Michael wondered, grumpily. He may have no longer been Joan’s guardian angel but that didn’t mean he’d stop looking out for her. Are they friends of Joan’s from high school from when she’d been a delinquent? Or perhaps some of these people are tennis fans from when Joan played tennis?

  Michael blinked and did a double take when he recognized a few demons in the pews! There was Vassago, a seer, deadly mercenary, and friend of Dante. A cloth headband was tied around Vassago’s forehead to hide his third eye. Sitri, a seller of dragons in Hell, and also a friend of Dante was sitting next to him. Sitri had the ability to change his sex. The demon was dressed in a suit that was half pale blue and half bubblegum pink - just like the demon’s hair.

  Demons! Did Dante actually invite them here? Inside a church? That was incredibly reckless. Apparently, a wind of change is blowing…for humans but also for demons. Still, it’s dangerous. If a portal to Hell has been opened then other demons might have gotten through. I have to be extra vigilant. It’s my job as Best Man to make sure Joan’s wedding goes on without a hitch. There was an unexpected pang of pain in Michael’s chest. He rubbed at the center of his chest with his hand, frowning.

  At that moment the door to the church opened and Joan of Arc stepped inside. The sight of her took Michael’s breath away. He couldn’t believe she was actually wearing a dress! A classy, cream-colored, long-sleeved, high-necked, lacy, wedding dress with a bell skirt.

  The organ player began to play the wedding march and Joan began to walk down the aisle. Joan’s father wasn’t the one walking her down the aisle but Fred, the Head Chef at Dullahan’s. This briefly surprised Michael, but he realized that Joan’s parents must have decided not to come. Michael clenched his hands at his sides at the thought. Joan’s parents were jerks.

  For a heartbeat Michael almost forgot that Joan was walking down the aisle towards Dante and not him. He’d daydreamed about this moment for more than five hundred years. The Archangel shook himself and rubbed a hand over his aching chest. He had thought this was going to be easier…giving away the woman he loved to another man. Who had he been kidding?

  Joan caught his gaze and smiled causing his breath to hitch. He rubbed at his chest harder.

  In minutes, Joan arrived at the altar and stood directly opposite of Dante. The priest began his speech. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony; which is an honorable estate, instituted of God in Paradise and into which holy estate these two people present come now to be joined. Therefore, if any man can show any just cause, why they may not be lawfully joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter forever hold his peace.”

  At that moment a woman stood up from her seat in the pews. All eyes in the church were automatically drawn to her. The woman was stunning in her sophisticated, black and white Prada dress, wide-brimmed black and white hat, and round black sunglasses. A cascade of black hair as dark as onyx fell down her back in waves. She removed her sunglasses to reveal silvery gray eyes. “I-” The woman began loudly.

  Tristan hissed in a breath. “Mother? What the hell are you doing here! Crap. Vassago! Sitri! Get her out of here!” Tristan called out to his friends as he immediately took charge of the situation.

  “Right on!” Vassago and Sitri leapt over the pews, mowing people over in the process, and latched onto the woman’s arms.

  “What the? How dare you? Unhand me at once!” The woman screeched as she was dragged unceremoniously down the aisle and out the front door.

  Tristan shot Michael an apologetic look. “I’ll handle my mo-” Tristan coughed into his hand. “Lilith.” Tristan squeezed his friend’s arm, leaned in and lowered his voice. “You can do it, Michael. Only you can ensure Joan’s happiness.”

  Michael nodded solemnly. “Certainly.” The Archangel watched as Tristan ran down the aisle and after Vassago, Sitri and Lilith. Michael took out the wedding ring that Dante had entrusted him with. Joan and Dante wanted his blessing and he would give it to them because they were his friends.

  Right after Tristan, Sitri, Vassago and Lilith left the church and the doors closed behind them a chilling wind blew through the church. The hair on the back of Michael’s neck stood on end and he looked up catching sight of several lesser demons inside of the church. They were attached to the vaulted ceiling and were using their claws to remain there. Demons! Michael thought. How the hell did they get in here?

  Lesser demons were small creatures, three to four feet tall with pointed ears, horns, bat-like wings, tails, and red or green skin. They had skinny little bodies, but what they lacked for in size they made up for in viciousness.

  Michael and Joan used to go hunting for lesser demons every night in order to protect the residents of New York City from demonic possession. But because Joan had been forced to sacrifice her powers as an exorcist in order to save Dante’s life she was now a normal human female and could no longer accompany Michael on his demon hunts.

  The responsibility of exterminating the lesser demons and protecting the citizens of the city from this invisible threat had fallen upon Michael’s shoulders. The lesser demons glared down at Joan, jeered at her, stuck their tongues out at her, pulled their lower eyelids down at her, and cackled evilly at the fact that Joan could no longer see them. She was no longer a threat to them but…prey.

  In that moment, Michael realized that they were there to hurt Joan and ruin her wedding.

  The Archangel would not allow this.

  Michael quickly gave Dante the ring before whispering in Dante’s ear. “There are lesser demons here. They must have snuck in through the portal. I’ll take care of them. But keep an eye on Joan just in case.”

  “Understood.” Dante said fiercely and then his expression softened. “And thank you…my friend.”

  Michael shot Dante a startled look. Dante didn’t use the ‘friend’ word very easily. “No problem.” He said just before he stepped behind Dante and then willed himself to become invisible. Normal humans could no longer see the Archangel.

  Michael summoned his wings causing them to emerge from his back and spread in a flurry of white feathers. The Archangel then called forth Joan of Arc’s holy sword, which now belonged to him. As soon as it materialized in his hand he summoned his power so that the blade of the sword became engulfed in red flames.

  With a battle cry and a flap of his wings, Michael shot up towards the cathedral ceiling. The lesser demons saw Michael approaching them and shrieked and scurried across the ceiling while trying to escape. But there was no escape. Michael lunged his sword forward, impaling a lesser demon right through its chest. The demon cried out in pain before it simply disintegrated into ashes.

  Michael didn’t stop there and attacked and slew lesser demon after lesser demon mercilessly. Blood splattered across his tuxedo. He wouldn’t let a single demon get past him and get to Joan or ruin her wedding. The woman he loved - no, the woman he used to love - was getting married today. He would protect her happiness. Michael would protect this wedding…with his life.

  Joan…Joan…Joan. Michael thought as he battled the demons. They began to attack him en masse - all of them lunging at Michael and digging their claws savagely into his flesh and sinking their fangs into his arms and legs, actually managing to draw blood. Michael let out a furious roar of pain as he pulled the demons off of him and continued to fight.

  This pain was nothing…when compared to the knowledge that the woman he loved - used to love - was marrying another. Today was the day he lost Joan forever. Officially. “Die, demons! Die!”

  Invisible to the human eye, the Archangel fought his battle against the demons, fought to protect his friends
and fought to protect the woman he used to love so that she could find happiness by marrying another man.

  Michael may not have been her guardian angel anymore but he would always be a protector, till the very end. I will protect you Joan…so promise me that you’ll be happy!

  To be continued in…Chocolate 2: Golden Caramel