by Sam Cheever
And I couldn’t do a damn thing about it, other than watch it go down. If I said anything negative about Slayer, anything at all, Darma would latch onto him quicker than a fish demon could snorf up a light fairy. I sighed, leaning my head back and trying to blank out my mind.
My thoughts were giving me a headache.
And then there was Slayer himself. I had to admit he fired my furnace more than he should. I kept asking myself the hard question. If I was committed to Dialle, should I be having sizzling thoughts about another man?
My Settling was at fault. I knew that. I couldn’t control the urges that swamped me as long as I was under its control. That was just a fact. It was nothing new. Every Tweener went through the process. And it was an ugly thing.
More importantly, Dialle understood it too and mostly didn’t care about my abbreviated forays into sexual diversion, as long as I came back to him for the final curtain. But Slayer was a sore spot with him. And I knew he wouldn’t be able to overlook a mistake in that particular direction.
The biggest problem was me. Somehow, I felt as if I should be able to rise above the Settling. I didn’t like ceding control of my mind and body to some amorphous, out-of-control entity. Unfortunately for me, I didn’t seem to have much choice.
Sighing, I closed my eyes and leaned back in my chair. I wished Emo was back. I really missed him. I wondered how he was doing on his rehab.
The last I’d heard he was making progress. Maybe he could return to work soon.
The all-too-close sound of an air horn made me jump and open my eyes. The wide silver nose of an air booger was five feet from my window and heading straight for me. I barely had time to notice the dazed, helpless eyes of the driver before I dove into a corner of the office, rolling and coming to my feet just in time to duck as the huge vehicle crashed through the window and obliterated the chair I’d been sitting in.
The impetus of the vehicle ripped the wood and brick of the wall around the window away with a shriek and a roar, and sent my furniture flying to smash against the wall beside me.
I covered my face and crouched to minimize myself as a target. But the ceiling started to collapse as the booger blasted through the interior wall of my office and into the hallway. It crumbled down in huge chunks, crashing all around me.
A chunk of plaster hit my arm and shoulder and pain blossomed, bringing me to my knees on the dusty, debris-strewn floor. I sucked in a breath and pulled plaster dust into my lungs. Big mistake. I succumbed to a coughing fit that threatened to take me all the way to the floor. Wheezing, coughing and choking, I tried to stand, my left arm dangling uselessly against my side.
The booger had finally screeched to a stop.
It sat smoking and creaking under a blanket of debris and dust. Still choking and coughing, I shoved my way through the clutter and started dragging debris off the vehicle with one hand. I heard the hiss of escaping gas, smelled the fuel in the air and knew the smallest spark would set it off. I couldn’t take the time to heal my mangled arm.
The booger might blow at any time.
I managed to clear the side viewport and scrubbed at the thick plastic to see inside. The driver still sat bolt upright in the seat, his spiky dark hair matted with blood. Blood ran thickly down the side of his face from a large cut at his hairline.
His pale, skinny fingers clutched the steering mechanism between his knees, the knuckles white. I knew many of the relatively small, inexpensive boogers didn’t have verbal directional capability. The one that had wrecked my office was apparently entirely manual.
The driver appeared to be in some kind of daze.
Verbal commands to open the exit hatch were useless, so I tried yanking on the handle, to no avail. The hatches appeared to be locked down. Pounding on the viewport, I hoped I could rouse the driver long enough to get him to open the hatch so I could pull him out.
The air was now thick with explosive gases. The telltale hiss had grown louder.
After a moment the driver jerked and turned his head slowly toward me. His gaze was too empty for mere shock to be the problem. His dark eyes were cold and blank, like a shark demon’s, with just the tiniest spark of fear underlying the vacancy.
My heart skipped a beat. The poor creature in that booger had been put into a zombie-like fog. Which could only mean one thing.
A large shadow slid across the viewport and I gasped, jumping backward in horrified realization.
A roar split the silence beyond my ruined office wall.
My terrified gaze slid toward the sound, just in time to see the massive green dragon open its huge maw and send a thick column of flame in my direction.
The fire hit the gas-filled air and exploded.
Impossible, melting heat crashed into me, the air crackling and rolling around me with a life of its own. Pain seared my body. My mouth opened in a silent scream as my skin started to melt away. Lost in a bubble of pain so intense I couldn’t breathe, I smelled my flesh and hair burning.
The world around me was nothing but fire, heat and flame. When I drew another breath to scream, I pulled fire directly into my lungs, searing away flesh and gristle and driving me to the ground in unending agony.
I realized I was dying and my mind formed around my only regret. Dialle!
I wondered if I would be heading North or South.
In that big sports event of the afterlife, would I be playing for the white team or the red? I wanted to believe that I’d be wearing white in the afterlife, but I wasn’t at all confident that my light side had been winning the Settling battle.
Fortunately for me, I wasn’t destined to learn the answers to these all-encompassing questions quite yet. The air shifted and a wave of magical coolness slipped over me like balm. Strong arms pulled me off the ground and enfolded me. Husky words, thick with emotion, droned just beyond my understanding, my pain-filled brain unable to grasp them.
Then the heat and fire disappeared and I was locked in the sphere without movement and sound.
I never knew when I emerged from the space shift. My mind shut down in an effort to deal with the pain and the world went blessedly, soothingly black.
* * * * *
The first thing I noticed as I climbed back to consciousness was warmth.
Then I felt the pain.
It was everywhere, crawling over my body with unsheathed claws. I kept my eyes closed and sucked in a breath, holding it as discomfort rolled over my skin. Compared to what I’d suffered in my office, the pain I was currently feeling was more than endurable. It was almost soothing.
The burning sensation left a trail of tingling skin behind. Healing skin.
Healing heat. Not the melting, charring kind I’d suffered in my office.
That realization gave me the strength to open my eyes. Hostility peered back at me in the form of a pair of large gray eyes with dusky gold lashes that dropped to peach-tinted cheeks.
Licking my dry lips, I opened my mouth to talk. Nothing but dust motes emerged. My mouth and body felt like dried-up husks. Clearing my throat, I tried again. “You aren’t leaving any unnecessary bumps or protrusions behind are you?”
The answering glare was filled with regret. I could tell she’d really like to cover me with warts.
She was beautiful in a nearly angelic way. Her soft golden-white hair flowed down her shoulders and arms and touched her tiny waist in shiny waves. Her form under the long, silky robes was slight, with just the softest rounding at the breast and hips. Her face was heart shaped, with finely made features. Her only flaw was a tiny overbite, making her look, if possible, even more appealing because it made her beauty real.
I frowned, remembering her from somewhere.
As if reading my thoughts she gave me a bitter smile. “You don’t remember me do you? My name is Astis. I am the Supreme High Witch of the Angel City Coven.”
My eyes widened. When I’d known her she’d been the Supreme High Commander of the coven. And she hadn’t been a member of Dialle’s Royal
Court. “What in Hades are you doing here?”
Her soft hands touched my face and pain speared through my cheekbones like a thousand tiny knives, sending me into convulsions on the soft bed where I lay.
When I regained control of my limbs I blinked and looked up at her. She had an almost sensual smile on her coldly beautiful face. “Did that feel as good as it looked?”
Too late, I remembered one of Astis’ most alarming traits. She was the ultimate masochist. She got off on pain. Literally.
When Dialle and I had met up with her several months earlier, we’d been trying to find out what the local coven had to do with a demon uprising that was taking its toll on both the human and magical realms. We’d quickly learned that pain was no punishment for the gorgeous witch.
Unfortunately for me, I didn’t share her proclivities. Grabbing her hands, I shoved her away. “I’ll take it from here, Astis.” Shoving myself upward, I bit the inside of my cheek against the pain.
It swamped me with every movement. My skin felt tight, as if it was newly made, and nausea tightened my gut. I slid my legs over the side of the bed and sat there, breathing heavily through the pain and exertion.
I must have been badly hurt, because the healing had left me feeling like the weakest kitten. My head dropped and my long auburn hair slid over my shoulders and breasts like a heavy curtain.
That was when I noticed I was nude. I jerked a little and my gaze flew to hers.
Astis’ eyes were lidded, her thick gold lashes fluttering and her chest heaving with emotion. The tip of a small pink tongue swept out from between parted lips and touched her upper lip, a completely sensual movement.
One of her small hands was on her breast, tweaking the nipple that was visible through the soft fabric of her sweater, and the other cupped her mons through the long black skirt she wore. A fine sheen of sweat covered her face.
Great. Just great. Healing me had gotten her off. “You’re one sick puppy, Astis.”
Her laughter was musical and though soft was a physical force that initiated a violent shudder in me.
My daemon hickey gave off sparks and I reached up to place a hand over it. The air in the room changed and Dialle was suddenly standing there. I glared at him. “Thanks for finding a pain junky to heal me, bud.”
He turned a glare on Astis and she gasped, her long fingers working the damp fabric of her skirt between her thighs.
Dialle lifted a finger and sent her flying, to slam against the nearest wall. She hit with a meaty thump and cried out, her body writhing into orgasm.
“Good Him,” I said, turning away from her flushed face and busy hands. “What were you thinking?”
“You’re welcome, Astra.” His manner was cold, his gaze distant. I was getting used to it, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. I took a deep breath and forced myself to calm down. “Sorry. I know you meant well. She just creeps me out.”
He turned to the witch, who was climbing gracefully to her feet. He stared at her long enough for me to examine his expression. I looked for revulsion there, or at the very least, pity. But saw only interest, fascination.
Not good.
“Dialle?”
He continued to stare at Astis and she stared back. Their regard of each other was focused, intense, even smoldering. And worse. Familiar.
“How long has Astis been here? At the court?”
He didn’t respond for so long I reached out and touched his shoulder. He jumped a little, as if I’d pulled him from a trance. Then he turned to me. “I searched for her after our encounter at the coven’s headquarters. I needed to know how she could bespell me. She shouldn’t have been able to do it.”
I frowned. I didn’t like where this was going. “And?”
His gaze slid back to her. “I’ve been testing her magics…her mind.”
I could imagine how Astis would have taken that. I was envisioning hours of sexual play between the two of them. I didn’t like that vision at all. “Was there pain involved?”
He just shrugged, telling me everything I wanted to know. “Dammit, Dialle. I don’t want your little mistress touching me ever again.”
He looked at me again, his gaze filled with what looked like genuine shock. “Mistress! Not likely, Astra. She just fascinates me. I gave her to some of my subjects who enjoy subjugation. Everyone is happy. It has been a match made in Hell.”
I watched him carefully for signs that was lying. He seemed sincere. But I knew better than to believe him. He was a devil. An astoundingly handsome, sexy devil. But a devil nonetheless. When dealing with the Royals I wore a heavy cloak of cynicism at all times. I just shook my head.
“She’s the best healer on the court. You needed a lot of healing, Astra.”
I shoved a thick curtain of hair off my face and sighed, remembering the wall of flame that encompassed me before Dialle pulled me out of my office. “I know.”
My head jerked up as I thought about my office. “I assume my office building is dust?”
“More like ash.”
“And the other tenants? Bob and Ralph are okay?”
“I assume so, Astra. I do not know for sure.”
I made a mental note to find out fast. As soon as I could get out of there. But when I tried to stand my knees buckled and I found myself back in Dialle’s arms as he lowered me to the bed.
“You need to rest for a while, my love.”
Was that actual concern in his rich voice? Did he really care?
I closed my eyes as doubt assailed me. He certainly went through the motions. But that was what he needed to do for the health of his court. Since his crowning I was part of that health. My sexual happiness was key to it.
The giving of his heart and his commitment to me were not.
I knew he would do everything in his power to meet my sexual needs.
What I didn’t know for sure was if he cared enough to commit his heart too.
* * * * *
Murmured conversation pulled me slowly from sleep. Dialle’s husky voice was easily recognizable, as were Gerch’s more gravelly tones, but the third voice I didn’t recognize.
“I need you to find out who tried to kill her. No excuses. If anything happens to our queen the court will be plunged into decades of death and disruption. We’ll find ourselves fighting off every usurper in the thirteen dimensions.”
Yeah, that didn’t make my insecurities blossom. Not a word about feeling bad if I was dead, Dialle’s only concern appeared to be for his precious court.
“I’m trying, sire, but whoever it is covered his tracks very well. There wasn’t even a magic signature left behind to trace.”
“Then we need to use non-magic methods. Have you questioned the werewolves down the hall?”
My heart rate picked up. Bob and Ralph were my friends. The last thing I wanted was Dialle’s thugs “questioning” them. I tried to open my eyes but they didn’t want to open. The light in the room was low but it still pierced my eyes like needles. I reached up to rub them and tried again, finally managing to get them to open the merest crack. I turned toward the voices.
As I’d expected, Dialle and Gerch stood across the room, by the door, with a third Royal. He was very tall, taller than Dialle and nearly as tall as Gerch, and had thick, straight, waist-length black hair that was unbound. I took a moment to admire his muscular legs and arms, my gaze sliding over his nicely rounded ass.
As if he felt my gaze, he turned, capturing me with cold black eyes. His face was narrow, the eyes deep-set and framed by a thick fringe of midnight lashes, his nose was long and slightly crooked, his mouth set in firm, disapproving lines.
His jawline was square, his chin dimpled and his cheekbones cast dark shadows on his face that made him look dangerous.
The cruel mouth tipped upward derisively as he looked at me. “It appears the queen has finally awakened.”
I bristled at his cold, judgmental attitude. Whoever he was I already didn’t like him. I held his gaze, refusing to be
the first to look away. “What’s going on, Dialle?”
“This is my advocate, Astra.”
Ahhh. The devil’s advocate. Never a creature to be trifled with.
“Does your advocate have a name?”
Said advocate turned fully in my direction. I sucked in a breath and my Settling roared. He was a study in male perfection. Tall, broad in all the right places, narrow where he should be narrow, with long, long legs that came together in a suspiciously rounded area that made me wonder if he’d stuffed a small dragon in there for appearances.
You can call me Milc, my queen. And that’s all me. I’d be more than pleased to prove it to you sometime.
I frowned at him. “Get out of my head, advocate. I haven’t given you permission to speak that way to me.”
He gave me a knowing smile and inclined his dark head, sending the thick silk of his waist-length hair forward to cover his features. My frown didn’t soften. Something about the man scared the shit out of me on a personal level.
Never mind the incredible danger inherent in dealing with your average devil’s advocate to start with.
His nostrils flared as he scented me and my daemon hickey sparked as Dialle’s temper rose. “Back down, Milc, or your next breath will be your last.”
Milc’s smile didn’t look fearful or contrite. But he turned away from me and inclined his head toward Dialle. “Your wish, sire.”
“My wish is that you get out there and find whoever’s trying to kill our queen.”
“Yes, sire.” He didn’t look at me again, but he didn’t need to. I felt his magic touch against my most intimate place, with a magic-infused tweak he sent my clit soaring toward release. The pinching touch bordered on painful, wandering over the border for the merest second to tip the balance toward the pleasure side. My Settling surged, bringing heat sparking through my body, and my mouth opened against a helpless wave of pleasure. A phantom pair of lips and the sharp bite of ghostly teeth finished what that intimate little pinch had started.
