by Tina Donahue
“Who said you have to?” Becca held up her hand before Zoe could respond. “If they don’t like you for you, you don’t want them, because no matter how gorgeous, built, rich or wonderful you are, it will never be enough. They’ll always be looking for someone new or different. You deserve better.”
Of course she did, but relationships had never worked out that way for Zoe.
Rarely had she felt as lost as she did now, especially given what Becca had just said. “You really think I shouldn’t change at all?”
“Are you comfortable with the way you are? Don’t even consider what they might think,” Becca added quickly, “but how you feel about you. Do you like your hair the way you wear it? Are you cool with your facial piercings? Are your clothes the kind you really like to wear?”
“I was alive during the witch trials. Salem wasn’t exactly known for its fashion sense.”
“And what you saw in Hell was too crass?”
Night and day compared to what Zoe had known when she’d been alive. She’d been caught between two worlds for so long. Her prim clothes a product of her Puritan upbringing, her facial piercings a way to cut loose, or to repel guys before they could reject her—holy shit.
The truth struck her so hard she bit her bottom lip and swept her tongue over the backs of her studs.
“What?” Becca asked, studying her closely.
Zoe scooted off the table and yanked on her clothes. “Who’ll be doing the makeover?”
“Ah, your choice. I can ask Heather, Constance and MJ to help, unless you object.”
How could she? They were all gorgeous, Constance and MJ’s bods the stuff of every guy’s wet dream. “Let’s do it.”
With a smile, Becca slipped her arm through Zoe’s and headed for the hall.
The guys were already in it.
Under Stefin’s direction, Anatol and Taro were half-escorting, half-dragging a reaper to a treatment room. The guy was butt-ugly, his pasty skin stretched tightly over his skeletal face, yellow teeth protruding from his thin lips.
Poor slob was going to need months of treatment if he wanted to resemble Brat Pitt in Meet Joe Black, with that being the goal of all reapers.
Becca pulled Zoe past the group. Zoe finally stopped and turned completely around to drool over Stefin, Taro and Anatol, dragging Becca with her.
“Sweetie,” Becca hissed, “a little less obvious, okay?”
Right. She should behave as if she were certain of herself and that the guys were lucky to have messed around with her. She was special. She was worthy.
She really needed that makeover.
Stefin grinned, liking the hickey he’d left on Zoe’s throat, proving his claim on her.
Becca clearly didn’t approve. She swung Zoe around and hurried her down the hall, out of sight.
Knowing women as he did, Stefin guessed Becca had warned Zoe to stay away from him, Taro and Anatol. At the very least to keep her clothes on during business hours.
Killjoy.
What was the harm in having enjoyed themselves? Zoe had certainly liked it and wanted more. Stefin had seen that truth on her face when she’d turned to watch him just now. Her naked desire had snatched his breath and made his legs rubbery. A curious reaction for a demon who’d seen and experienced it all, but there it was. Zoe was beginning to affect him deeply.
Uncertain how to react to that, he frowned.
“A little help here?” Anatol puffed.
The reaper had dug his long nails into the doorjamb and was holding on to it for dear life as Taro and Anatol struggled to pull him inside.
“I’ve changed my mind,” the reaper wailed.
“You signed a contract,” Stefin informed.
“So fucking what?”
“Do you allow the dead to return to earth just because they want to?”
“Are you nuts?” The reaper bared his ugly teeth. “They can’t go back, they’re dead. Hell, all of them smell like shit because of it.”
“You’ll be worse than smelly and dead if you don’t get your skinny ass in that room.” Stefin wanted to get this over with, have the evening end so he and Zoe could continue what they’d started.
Taro and Anatol appeared to have the same thought. Getting tough, they tore the jamb free of its frame. Still clutching the splintered wood, the reaper howled as they pulled him to the treatment table.
Mistress Jin, MJ for short, leaned against the lip of her desk, studying Zoe as if she were a specimen under a microscope. Not a particularly attractive one at that. Becca, Constance and Heather had already pulled up their chairs, surrounding Zoe’s. Possibly so she wouldn’t run. The urge kept tugging at her.
“Do you have any idea what you’d like to look like?” MJ asked, still taking her in.
Zoe did the same with her. MJ had once lived in Daemon’s ring until she, he and Heather had hooked up. Free now, MJ enjoyed the good life with both of them and worked here, granting wishes for a reasonable price. Swallowing her pride, Zoe pointed at her. That’s how she wanted to look.
MJ was freaking gorgeous. Caramel-colored skin, violet eyes, wavy black hair that fell past her waist, a curvalicious bod and exotic features. She even smelled decent, a kind of incense fragrance that was decadent, sexy, mysterious.
If Zoe had been bi, like Heather, she would have fallen in love with MJ too.
“Exactly like me?” MJ asked.
Zoe lowered her hand and got real. There had to be losers in life so others could win, right? No one had to tell her what side of that fence she’d fallen on. “No. I mean, I don’t want to look like you, not really. I don’t want to look like anyone. I want to be me, only better.”
Constance leaned over and patted her knee. “Good answer.”
At least it was politically correct. “I don’t want to use magic either,” Zoe said, shooting a worried glance at Becca. Unless her mom Rowena was willing to help out, no way was Zoe drinking any potion Becca mixed, nor did she want any spells hurled at her. “I want to do this the mortal way.”
“That may take a while,” MJ said. “What’s the timeframe here?”
Zoe checked the wall clock. “The shift ends in five hours.”
“You want to be made over that quickly?” Becca asked.
Like that was impossible when it came to her? Zoe frowned. “I thought you said I wasn’t all that bad.”
“You’re beautiful,” Becca, Heather and Constance said as one.
MJ nodded. “Nothing wrong with you, babe.”
Oh, come on. Zoe gestured to herself. “Absolutely nothing needs to be changed about me? I’m perfect?”
“Unique,” Becca hedged. Constance nodded.
Heather averted her gaze. As a good fairy, she couldn’t lie or sugarcoat stuff. Zoe honed in on her like a heat-seeking missile. “What about you, Heather? Do you also think I’m unique, perfect and okay just as I am?”
She squirmed then sighed when no one helped her out. “You have a beautiful complexion,” she blurted. “It’s a shame to ruin it with all that metal.”
The moment those words had fallen out of her mouth, Heather slapped her hand over it. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to be that blunt. Forgive me, please. I shouldn’t have said—”
“Not a problem,” Zoe cut in. At least she was getting somewhere. “The metal’s not attractive?”
All four women shook their heads.
“What about my clothes?”
MJ groaned, Constance made a face, Becca drew her finger across her neck in a slashing motion, Heather went into a full body blush before offering a shaky thumbs down.
Apparently, Zoe repelled women as well as men. “So what now? Trust me, I’m too skinny to look good in Spandex or leather like other female demons.”
MJ tapped her tapered nail against her cheek. “Let’s see what we can do ab
out what you have on.”
Zoe pushed back in her chair. “If I don’t like what you come up with, will I be able to take it off? You’re not going to tattoo anything on my body, are you?” She’d heard how MJ liked to screw around with people’s wishes. When Daemon was still her Master, he’d asked for a Busch, as in beer. He’d gotten green leafy bushes instead. Ha-ha.
“I’ll be good,” MJ cooed.
“Promise?” Heather asked.
MJ patted the top of her head and gestured to Zoe. “Stand up.”
“Why?”
“Don’t worry, it won’t hurt. If it does, you can possess me and turn my life to shit. I’d totally deserve it.”
Sounded like a plan. Zoe pushed to her feet and frowned at a faint popping sound. Constance sucked in a breath. Zoe glanced down.
Holy…
She still had on her schoolgirl clothes, but the skirt was a fraction of the length it had been, only reaching the top of her thighs now. Her blouse was so tight she could barely breathe even though it was unbuttoned to beneath her breasts, letting her bra peek through. That piece of underwear wasn’t snowy white any longer, but black with sequins. Padded too, one of those Wonderbra things. Her anklet socks had morphed into lacy knee-highs, her saddle shoes replaced by Mary Janes with four-inch heels.
Zoe wavered so badly on them she had to grab the back of her chair to balance herself.
“Wow,” Becca said. “That’s perfect for Debbi does Delta Psi.”
No kidding. Zoe frowned at MJ. “I’m not starring in a porno flick or going trick or treating.”
The genie smiled. “It’ll be all treats when you wear that, I can assure you.”
“I think she’d prefer a subtler look,” Heather said and smiled apologetically. “How about something in white?”
Constance shot that down with a wave of her hand. “She’s not a Vestal Virgin.”
They all started arguing at once.
Zoe cut in. “Look, I don’t have a lot of time for this. I have to get back to work. I have clients.”
“Hold that thought.” Becca went to MJ’s desk and buzzed someone. “Yep,” one of the staff answered, her voice coming over the intercom.
“Can you take Zoe’s clients for the next two—”
“Better make it three,” Constance cut in. “Just to be sure.”
“Three hours,” Becca said. “Once she’s through with her special project, she’ll relieve you.”
“No prob.”
Easy for her to say, she didn’t have four supernatural beings eyeing her as though she was the last person on earth that they wanted to mold to their specifications.
Two hours and forty-three minutes later, Heather held her hands to her chest, her eyes brimming with tears. Constance’s turban was askew, her matching gown damp with perspiration. Becca had pushed her bangs off her forehead an hour ago. They were still pointing at the ceiling. MJ lay across her desk, one arm draped over her forehead.
Zoe looked from one to the other, wanting to run, but she couldn’t with what she was wearing. “Is it that bad?”
A tear slipped down Heather’s cheek.
“Hey, hey,” Becca said. She pulled Heather into her arms and rubbed her back. “You have to quit falling apart like this.”
“I know.” She sniffed. “I try, but—” Heather flapped her hand in Zoe’s direction and started crying again.
That was the only answer Zoe needed. Her shoulders and the ends of her hair started belching smoke like an active volcano.
“Whoa.” Constance stopped adjusting her turban and swatted the plumes away. “Knock it off. You’ll ruin your look.”
“After all we did to get you there,” MJ said.
“You mean screw me up even worse than I was?” Zoe gestured wildly. “Look at Heather. She’s a basket case because of me.”
“She’s always like that,” Constance said. “She’s happy because you’re still you, but mega hot.”
Impossible. Zoe shrank back, not believing it for a minute.
“We need a mirror,” Becca said.
“Your wish is my command.” MJ moved her forefinger up and down. Just like that, all the walls and ceiling were mirrored.
Zoe couldn’t look.
“Quit being such a baby,” Constance said. She grabbed Zoe’s arm and hauled her to one of the walls. At least, that’s where Zoe guessed they were going.
“Go on,” Constance ordered. “Open your eyes.”
This was harder than learning she’d sold her soul for no good reason, and that had been pissing bad.
“Please look,” Heather sobbed. “I’m crying because I’m so happy for you.”
She was? Seriously?
Of course. Good fairies couldn’t lie, so how bad could this be? Unless Heather’s fashion sense was pure crap and she didn’t realize it. After all, she rarely wore anything that wasn’t white.
Steeling herself, Zoe opened one eye and snuck a peak. Her mouth fell open.
“Told ya,” Becca said. She pointed to the hall. “Now you show those guys how lucky they are to know you. The real you.”
Constance grinned, taking in Zoe’s full length. “This you.”
Chapter Eight
An uneven tap-tap-tap sounded in the hall. Stefin stopped at the odd noise. Taro and Anatol promptly bumped into him. Frowning, Stefin elbowed them away. “Watch it.”
“Screw you,” Anatol hissed. Taro simply elbowed Stefin back, harder than necessary. After all, they were coworkers at this whacko place.
Ready for a brawl that was long overdue, Stefin turned to Taro and got in his face. Taro growled. Stefin grunted.
Tap-tap-tap.
There it was again. Weird. Had a supernatural gotten free of his restraints, hurt one of his legs in the process and was lurching down the hall for revenge?
Given Stefin’s current mood, all he could think was—Bring. It. On. Baring his teeth, he glanced past Taro and blinked.
What the—
He pushed Taro out of the way, vaguely aware of him falling into the wall and growling. Anatol snarled something Stefin didn’t get. At last, both of them fell silent, no doubt seeing what he had.
A young woman approached one uncertain step at a time, the tap of her heels making the sound Stefin had heard. Her stilettos were four inches high and black with ribbons that crisscrossed over her feet to tie in bows at the back of her ankles.
Sexy yet sweet. Hot damn.
Stefin’s gaze crawled up her bare calves to the edge of her black skirt, one of those skinny models that hugged her hips and thighs before falling just below her knees. If not for the long slit to the right that exposed a hell of a lot of her leg, she couldn’t have walked in it at all.
Stefin’s mouth watered. His gaze roamed higher to her scarlet silk blouse, long-sleeved with a neckline that plunged south. Not enough to be indecent, provocative was the word he would have used. Her nipples poked against the lustrous fabric, making his cock wiggle, the damn thing wanting out of his clothes and into her.
She wore her black hair in a wavy style, parted on the side like Megan Fox sometimes did.
Confused, Stefin frowned. That wasn’t Megan. This young woman’s flawless complexion was too pale, her eyes dark as the night and flaming?
He sucked in a breath, his rod getting even stiffer. Zoe? Was it possible? Fuck, yeah. It was her.
Whoa. She looked un-fucking-believable, like a cover girl for Demon Daily, Hell’s most popular tabloid. What had happened to her piercings and schoolgirl outfit?
Taro and Anatol must have been wondering the same given their throaty growls, the sound demons made when they’re prepared to ravish.
Stefin put out his arms, blocking both from advancing as Zoe reached them.
Down the hall, Becca, Constance, Heather and MJ peeked around the
corner, taking in the scene.
When Becca saw that Stefin had spotted them, she shoved the others back and all of them disappeared. Good. He didn’t want to be interrupted again tonight.
With a shitload of desire pumping through him, he gave Zoe a seductive grin that spoke volumes.
She studied his smile and then Anatol and Taro’s drooling leers. When Stefin reached for her, she tottered back on her heels, flapping her hands to steady herself. Once she had, Zoe ignored Stefin’s frown at her dodging him. Why would she try to get away given what she was wearing? Hell, she was dressed to thrill a demon, especially him.
“We need to talk.” She wobbled and wiggled past them. “In my office.” She gestured for them to follow.
Taro and Anatol didn’t question it a bit, on her heels in a second, sniffing at her like rutting animals. Stefin caught up easily and shoved them aside. Anatol bounced off the wall with Stefin’s hard push and then rammed his body into Stefin at the same time that Taro did.
Squeezed between them, Stefin’s breath whooshed out. He got his bearings and was ready to go at it again when Zoe stopped. They all froze as she looked over.
She regarded each of them for a long moment. “Are you fighting?”
Damn, Stefin was impressed. She sounded nearly as husky as he did.
Lying easily, Stefin shook his head. So did the others, all of them docile as choirboys, for now. Her musky scent was too enchanting for Stefin to argue about anything. Surely, they were going to her office to ball themselves crazy. No way would Becca barge in there since it was Zoe’s private space.
They should have thought of that earlier.
Zoe stopped at the door and sagged against it as if needing the support. With a sweep of her hand, she directed them inside.
Stefin led, as always, with Anatol bringing up the rear.
Before Zoe could close the door, Stefin’s clothes were history, his cock ready for anything. Taro and Anatol were the same.
She turned to them and stared, her obvious surprise mingled with a fuckload of lust. Didn’t last. As though she’d flipped some kind of internal switch, Zoe pointed at their clothes strewn about the floor. “Get dressed. This isn’t a hotel.”
