Demons in the Bedroom (Paranormal House Flippers Book 1)

by Lidiya Foxglove

  “Make your explanation quick.”

  “The whole reason Kiersten was trying to get this house is because she heard a rumor that there was a dangerous artifact inside that we could sell to the council for the standard collection fee, so that’s why she made the offer she did. It was kind of a risk for us, you know, because we didn’t know if we’d actually find anything, but as of two days ago a councilman came to us and said he’d double the fee. I didn’t want you to get mixed up in anything! I thought I’d just see if I could find the thing, turn it in, and give you the money after it was all done.”

  “Caleb, that is some bullshit. Why wouldn’t you just tell me?”

  “I would never put a lady in danger,” Caleb said. “If some demon sprung out of this thing I didn’t want you next to me.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Come on, don’t be that way. You know me. You know I’m a man of honor and I take care of the ladies in my life. Kiersten doesn’t even know I’m here because I didn’t want my lady getting hurt either.”

  “Stop saying ‘lady’.” I huffed.

  He threw his hands out like I was arresting him, while giving me an expression of dumbfounded hurt. “Sure, sure. I see now that this wasn’t the right way of going about it. I just didn’t want to cause you any trouble at all. I wasn’t going to keep the fee, cross my heart, I just didn’t want you or anyone else to be in danger.” He chuckled. “I’m gonna get oh-Calebed on this one for sure.”

  As a reluctant yet constant follower of Kiersten’s social media, I knew that Caleb was about the most unpretentious manual laboring lug out there. She frequently made affectionate posts about the dumb things he would do, like eating potato chips in bed, making the girls nothing but frozen corn for breakfast, installing a light upside down, and painting an entire house the wrong color while she was out sick. These were all hashtagged #ohcaleb.

  So it was a little hard to believe he was actually an evil mastermind.

  But none of this made much sense. And I was still furious.

  “What do you know about this thing?” I asked.

  “Nothing much. Councilman Beck just told me that if existed, he wanted it. If that’s even the right thing. I just did a check for wards and found that.”

  I was a little surprised Caleb even knew how to check for wards, but I guess we all needed it in this business. “And you cast a ward yourself and blocked the spirits,” I said. I was a little disconcerted that Caleb was this talented at magic.

  “Of course I did! I don’t want to get into a ghost battle.” He laughed, getting more relaxed as he gave his wounds a once over and saw they weren’t really bad. “What does that have to do with anything? You haven’t been making friends with a ghost, have you?”

  “No.”

  “Ohoh, man. I bet you have. I won’t tell Kiersten, don’t worry, but you know that’s rule one, sister!”

  “You better not tell Kiersten,” I said. “You better not tell anyone about any of this. This is my house. My stuff. The council comes sniffing around, I’ll blast them too. Tell Councilman Beck there was nothing here.”

  He whistled. “Okay.”

  Of course, he knew, as I knew, that I couldn’t fight the council.

  He started moving to the door, with a few apologetic gestures. “You need any help with anything while you got me? As an apology?”

  Suddenly Byron appeared behind him and grabbed Caleb in a chokehold.

  “Shit!” Caleb said. He couldn’t even really see Byron. “Is this the ghost?”

  “I’m the ghost,” Byron growled. “Thanks for buying enough time for me to break the ward, Helena. And you’re damn right you won’t tell the council.” He started chanting out some spell words in some demon tongue as Caleb tried to wrestle him off. It was obvious that Byron was stronger than Caleb. And he was definitely bigger. I felt a little strange pride in that, like I wished Kiersten could see that my ghost was bigger than her warlock.

  My ghost? Don’t get that in your head, girl.

  “You want to help me out here, Helena!?” he yelled frantically as Byron kept chanting. Dark smoke wafted from his lips to Caleb’s ear.

  As Byron whispered whatever dark spell he was casting, he started to lose his grip on Caleb. The spell had weakened him, that was clear. It made sense. An incubus got his power from sex, so I was guessing all the power fueling him right now came from my kiss in the dream.

  Caleb broke out from the demon’s grip as Byron lost his solid form. He turned on Byron and I knew I was going to have to make an awkward decision: help my fellow warlock, or turn on him and assist a Sinistral demon?

  “We can not let the council know what we have!” Byron told me.

  I decided I trusted him way more than I had ever trusted Caleb. I slashed my wand through the air and gave Byron my support. “Forget everything you saw and heard here!”

  “Where am I? What’s happening?” Caleb said. “Helena? Were we…working on something together?” He turned around toward Byron and pointed at him with his wand. “You. You did something to me. Helena, please—you’re going to turn your back on the council? You sure you want to do that?”

  “Helena!” Byron’s physical form was becoming more translucent, his power clearly sapped from the spell.

  If Kiersten and Caleb didn’t post so many annoying pictures, I would have been more helpful, but…boy, it was hard to be the single girl living out of a truck and look at their sunlit California children, spa days, and beautiful remodels.

  Caleb would be fine without any memory of this incident.

  It was certainly possible that Byron didn’t really have my best interests in mind and his hotness was clouding my judgment, but there were worse ways to lose your head.

  “Caleb, I banish all memories of this night from your mind and I banish you from my house!” My spell shoved the window wide open and Caleb was knocked out of it. The wind seemed to carry him to a tumbling stop on the grass, hard enough that he lay there a second. I ran to the window and slammed it shut, but then I watched him struggle to his feet and run like hell for his rental car.

  I put my palm over my heart. I was feeling short of breath now that it was over. “I sure hope his memory stays gone. If this did get back to the council, I’m in deep shit.”

  “He had a simple mind,” Byron said. “I think it will take.”

  I couldn’t help a snicker. “But this is scary. The council is looking for this thing! Graham is coming back in a week to show me where he buried the books. Can he tell me the answers I need?”

  “I wish I could say,” Byron said. “This is truly painful for me to watch. Everything is on the line for me, and I’m helpless to help you. All I can do is to assure you that the object must be protected.”

  “Are you okay, Byron? You’re fading away before my eyes! Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “Well…”

  “Right.” I blushed. “I figured.”

  “What do you say? Will you surrender to me tonight, sweet angel?”

  “Not if you ask like that!” I gave my cheeks a little slap. I was feeling hot all over.

  “We were interrupted. But if you think you can still sleep, I will meet you there and see what answer you give in the garden.”

  My mother used to tell me never to trust a demon. This demon was awfully lucky that over time, I had learned not to trust my mother.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Helena

  I stood at the gate of my dream garden but at first I seemed to be alone. All dressed up and nowhere to go. My brain had sorted the boots out. The heels weren’t quite as high. I was wearing a short, filmy dress like some mythological Greek huntress.

  And no underwear. I guess my subconscious was ready to go.

  Whatever. No shame in getting a little dream action.

  Except there was no Byron to get with.

  “Byron?”

  I was a little worried when he didn’t come even when I called his name. Finall
y, I opened the gate and ventured out of the garden, walking the path that wound through a woodland. It was my own dream, so it should be safe, right? But I got a little jumpy when I heard rustling in the woods. Sometimes I thought I saw eyes looking out at me from the bushes. It felt like I was on the edge of the Sinistral realm. And clouds were moving in, blocking the sunshine I enjoyed in the garden.

  Was he leading me on a chase? If so, not funny. I kept going, thinking less about dream sex and more about my genuine worries that Byron could be in trouble.

  I came around a bend, the path curling around a rocky river bank that was just a little too wide to jump, the water clear but dark, and up to a bridge. Immediately, I saw the unconscious form on the far side of the bank, crumpled wings and his arms splayed limp.

  “Byron!” I ran toward the stone bridge that spanned the river and—no shit—a big ugly troll clambered up the arches with surprising agility to block my way. He was only about five feet tall but his arms were thicker than my waist, and his skin was gray, his bald head the same color as the sky.

  “First, you must answer my riddle!” the troll said. “What fabric is as old as time, as fragile as glass, and that shall brush the face of rich man and poor man, man and woman?”

  “I don’t have time for this!” I blasted the troll.

  The troll let out a shriek of rage and charged at me. Damnit. Trolls were tough. I tried to climb over the side of the bridge and the troll grabbed my arm and hauled me back onto the bridge, practically dislocating my shoulder.

  I rubbed the aching joint. “This is just a dream! And it’s supposed to be sexy! Why is this so complicated?” I said. “I banish you from my dream!”

  “You must answer the riddle.”

  “A funeral shroud.”

  “Wrong! Try again!”

  “That’s totally right. A funeral shroud. Everyone wears a funeral shroud, well, at least in a lot of cultures throughout time. And they last forever because they’re buried, but then they get very fragile. Or—maybe—ohh, wait. The fabric of time?”

  “I already said the fabric was as old as time,” the troll said.

  “The fabric of time is as old as time,” I said.

  “But I wouldn’t use the word in the riddle if that was the answer. That’s sloppy.”

  “It’s a riddle, how am I supposed to know? This dream is turning into a Monty Python skit, god.”

  “Maybe you should stop complaining and start guessing,” the troll said.

  “It’s the fabric of life, isn’t it?”

  “Wrong.”

  “How is that wrong? It’s as old as time. Definitely fragile. And everyone wears the fabric of life.”

  The troll glowered at me and stepped aside. “I suppose that does work.”

  “Well, what was the answer?”

  “Can’t say.” The troll clambered back down the bridge, and I was left feeling very perplexed and quite sure I was on the fringes of the magical realm and not just in my own dream. This was the kind of weird shit that happens there. But I didn’t have time to dwell on it. I kept running toward Byron, struggling not to slip on the jagged rocks and patches of mud that bordered the steadily flowing river. His body rested in the shadow of the troll’s stone bridge, but I didn’t see that thing anymore, at least.

  He was as hot as you would hope an unconscious man by a river could be. His white shirt was wet and half-open. His hair was tousled across his brow. It was hard not to stop and linger over the physical perfection of his full lips and muscular arms with the white cotton clinging to them, but I had a job to do.

  “Byron?” I lifted his hand and felt that his skin was still warm.

  “Helena…”

  “You look so weak!”

  “How embarrassing,” he said. “But worth it. I’m weak because I protected you.”

  “Sure, you sweet talker. I know you really just want to protect Fiore’s magic thing.”

  “That’s not true. I find you quite attractive and watching you tackle that house is…well, I’m not sure why you aren’t fighting off suitors with a shovel.”

  “I’m too busy for suitors.”

  “I wish I was still alive. I would not just make sweet love to you. I would help you with the house, and we would work well together. And then I would make sweet love to you.”

  Sweet love? That was as silly as “angel”. I had to remember that he died in the 1970s. And I kind of liked that my sexy demon ghost was a little cheesy now and then. It seemed sort of pure.

  “Well…I guess I came here to do one thing, didn’t I?” I said to him, before giving in to what my body had been craving. I leaned down and kissed him, feeling like Snow White in reverse. He immediately sank into that kiss and I could practically feel him feeding on me, but becoming putty in the hands of an incubus is never a bad feeling, although it can seem like a bad idea. Only in hindsight. I had certainly been warned about this extensively during my school years. In 7th grade we actually had a seminar called ‘Say Don’t to Demons’.

  I also knew that incubi had normal human feelings and could make genuinely good husbands. One of my brother’s old friends—and now bond-brothers—was an incubus. They had always gotten along well, but my mom wouldn’t allow Alec in our house, not with six daughters. I thought it must be a real bummer for Alec that he could never come over for a sleepover when his other two friends were hanging out, but I didn’t dare try to plead his case. My sisters would have teased me mercilessly.

  No denying that they were dangerous. With his tongue slipping into my mouth and his hands lifting up my skirt to caress the sensitive skin of my bare bottom… I mean, I couldn’t even recall that I had ever enjoyed such a nice ass squeeze in my entire adult life.

  “I’m feeling better already,” he murmured, with a smile so gorgeous it melted me on the spot. I ran my fingers through his hair as we kissed, playing with the messy strands that had been in his eyes as my legs moved to straddle him almost of their own accord, my pussy feeling the hard urgency in his pants.

  “Mm…you look better.” I tore open his shirt and stroked my hands across his chest. Now, I knew for sure I had never caressed such a good-looking chest in my adult life.

  There seemed no reason to hold back.

  Oh, wait. Maybe one reason.

  “Um…the troll that lives under that bridge…” I lifted my head just long enough to feel that my lips already seemed bruised. “I don’t want him to watch.”

  “You’re not into trolls watching? You’re clearly not a Sinistral,” he teased. “Just let me feel you up until I get a little more strength back and then I’ll get us out of here.” His hands slipped down my thighs and stroked under the edge of the boots.

  I made an embarrassingly pent-up sound of need and then his hands moved up to my hair, and started a new journey down my body, exploring the skin of my neck and back before ending up at the thighs again. He could have just done that for a while and I might eventually orgasm. His touch was so warm, so attuned to every spot on my body that was especially sensitive. He knew where to linger, where to tease his fingertips. Then he knew where to work his hands deep into the muscle and grip me roughly until I was thinking, Rougher, rougher…show me what a demon can really do!

  “Your wish is my command,” he said.

  “I said that out loud!?”

  “Oh yes.”

  “Oh no…”

  “Hang on tight,” he said, and he moved my arms behind his neck before holding me tight and getting to his feet. He hitched my knees up and spread his wings.

  “Ohmigod,” I panted, as he jumped at the same time as his wings pumped the air, and suddenly, defying all laws of the human world, we were flying.

  “Have you…what is it called? The Mile High Club.”

  “What? No! Is that even possible?”

  “It’s a dream,” he said. “Of course it is.”

  It was sure feeling awfully real, for a dream. He suddenly whipped his tail around me like a third arm—or a seat
belt—and reached down to unfasten his fly.

  I was gripping onto his neck for dear life but when his arms went back around me, I relaxed immediately. “I’ve got you,” he said.

  “I know.” There was no doubt in his grip, or his strength.

  “Aren’t you curious?”

  I had to admit, this was something I might have doodled (and then torn up because, go figure, I was only good at drawing houses) in high school if I had only thought about it. Flying sex with a hot demon was up there with like, sex on the back of a unicorn as a good why-the-hell-not idea.

  “Anyway,” he said slyly in my ear, “you’ll have to wake up if you want out of it now.”

  His cock nudged my wet entrance and deep down, I was praying I didn’t wake up. My legs had to stay straddled around him just to be safe during the flight, so all I could do was grip him tight and let out a moan of satisfaction, because he was every bit as big as his trouser bulge promised, and in this position, I certainly wasn’t about to let go.

  He gave his wings a sweep to glide over a thick forest, and with the motion of his wings, the motion rippled through every muscle in his body and through his thick cock and I thought this must be some sort of Greek god level sex. The adrenaline of the flight paired with the tenderness of his arms holding me and the raw animalistic workings of his muscles and the fucking…

  I screamed into the wind.

  His wings brought us into a short dive that made me scream harder, but it was like doing it on a rollercoaster. Which now that I considered it, was kind of a hot idea, but also probably how you got banned from the Magic Kingdom.

  “Are you loving it?” he said with a grin.

  “This is crazy! But—yes…!”

  “But can you come in midair?”

  “It’s your job to find out, isn’t it? You’re the incubus.”

  “A challenge. I’m always up for that.”

  I guess the problem with the flying sex is that, uh, there wasn’t really any leverage. So there wasn’t much friction unless he pumped his wings, but flying involved a lot of gliding.