“Throw hellfire? What the … Oh, no fucking way. ” Lucifer’s fist delivered a haymaker to the table, breaking it clear down the middle. His eyes turned skyward as his flesh burned crimson. “So that’s where that damned demon went, got himself a Pure Soul suit!”
“Who has?”
Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Who the hell do you think? Come on, Az. You listen to the chatter. You heard any rumors lately about a disobedient demon that turned up missing?”
The Number Four shone out in magical, Vegas-worthy letters as Azazel put two and two together. “No way. The Pure Souls’ new pillar is … Gaius? My Gaius?”
Huffing, Lucifer nodded. “I think you mean our Gaius, and apparently he’s not ours anymore. Damn it. I thought Big Boss was just being coy with his damned message, but this is really happening, isn’t it? Gaius knows all our shit. Ha! I thought I was fucked before, but this brings the level of my personal fuckage to porn star proportions.”
The mention didn’t escape Azazel’s attention. “You received a message from Big Boss?”
Lucifer’s hand fished out a postcard from his jacket’s inside pocket. Without the table to block him, he walked right down the middle of the room before filing the piece into his brother’s hand. Azazel took in the cryptic script, but he too didn’t have much trouble figuring out the implications. Unlike Lucifer, however, the hint of things to come took him to his happy place. Internally he beamed. Lucky thing Azazel had a poker face like a boss.
“Looks like we’re on the way out after all,” Lucifer said. “Unless you got any bright ideas to share.”
Azazel read over the postcard again. “This doesn’t mean anything. It might even not be from Him. Maybe one of your minions is pulling your chain.”
“Yeah, but if it is real?”
“Well, then, I don’t plan on being overthrown easily. I’m going to go down fighting.” Azazel’s voice softened. He leaned in towards his brother, as though frightened someone would overhear. “What about this Pure Soul you corrupted? After all, traitor or not, Gaius did serve very loyally and successfully for centuries. This new arrival could be a hell of a recruit.”
“You don’t know the half of it.” Lucifer nodded, his gaze distant. “You’re right. Damn, if He’s planning on us going down, I’m going to take all his fucking Pure Souls with me. And here’s the best part: This one I got on the boilers now, he was in love with the Keystone.”
Two-thirds of success, Azazel had always believed, came from kicking your own butt in to gear to open the door when opportunity came. “Let me have him.”
“Hell, no. He’s my trump card. He’s how I’m going to get revenge on that bitch witch and her posse of posers.”
Azazel’s arms went out wide in a questioning gesture. “And aren’t we playing on the same side, brother? Come on, Luc, you know I’m much better at crafting expert demon operatives than you. Asmodeus, Rasputin, Gaius … My portfolio speaks for itself. I carved their demon flesh. I’m the Picasso of Poltergeists. Give me this Pure Soul, and I promise you, I’ll give you two more souls in return by the time the moon phases again.”
Lucifer’s lips pursed. He stood in thought, his brow furrowed. Finally, he waved dismissively. “Fine, but I need this to work, Az. If we’re really heading toward our end, we have no time to waste. I want you to make him a killer, make him ruthless. I want him to corrupt the Pure Souls, slay Dee, and rip Riona Dade’s mortal heart from her bosomed chest and show it to her before she dies. And when she’s remade in demon flesh, I want her strapped to my bed so I, and I alone, can have her beneath me at will.”
“So let it be written, so let it be done.” Azazel bobbed his head in solemnity before taking his leave. New roads were being paved before him, paths he never dared dream would open up to him. There was much to do, but it wasn’t the number of tasks before him that needed attention. It was the manner in which they were done. Only the most trusted of his brethren could learn of this, but learn they must.
After all, history had proven that one couldn’t overthrow the Ruler of Hell on your own.
Chapter 16
How Dee longed for the days when the only fireworks he’d had to deal with were between Marc and Riona. His friend Marc, for whom he’d tolerate such crap because that’s what friends did. But this shit going on between Riona and Jerry? Dee was so over having to deal with the ex-demon’s idiotic attempts to win Riona’s heart while engaging in a pissing competition with Ramiel and trying to come off as a reformed being. And now, what was worse, Riona was starting to buy into it.
Maybe her self-proclaimed love for Marc Angeletti didn’t run as deep as she had thought.
Whatever. Even if Hell froze over and Jerry and Riona somehow hooked up, they’d never know real love like he’d known it. They had no idea what real, true love felt like, what it was like to be so consumed by your feelings that when you lost them, you struggled to breathe. The way he had felt about Clare.
Years had passed, and yes, time had healed some wounds, but not all. Nothing was ever going to do away with that gap in his heart. It could only be ignored, distracted from. Dee didn’t do love anymore, only mutually-beneficial lust. Lately, not even so much of that. Since he’d moved into the safe house and away from his bachelor pad apartment, that was. Something about having Riona in the house made bringing home women seem wrong. He didn’t know if it was because Riona was like a sister, and who wants to fuck wildly and make all manner of erotic wails when your sister might be listening, or if he was half afraid that Riona might put the moves on someone he brought in for herself.
His fists balled as he turned up the stairs that led to the apartment over his place of business, to which Suzette had a key. Rarely had he been so happy for a booty call. Um, text. After feeling so powerless the last few days, the demigod had a need to make someone bend to the power of his body.
He sat his bag on the kitchen counter, rounded the corner, and opened the bedroom door.
Glistening, wet, perfect beauty.
Dee’s eyes could be convicted of a crime in six states for the things they were doing to Suzette. He was all for skipping pretense and just getting down to business. Still, even he was surprised at the canvas of flesh that greeted him. Suzette usually preferred a mock seduction. Oh, there was never a doubt of where they were going when temperatures started rising, but she appreciated proper pacing and at least the illusion of a tease.
His mouth booked a last-minute trip to the floor. “Suz …”
She rolled over from her stomach to her back, her gaze never leaving his. Her head was at the foot of the bed, and her long legs, a pair of gems that proved some women only improved with age, looked even longer than usual from the vantage point.
“I hope you don’t mind,” she purred, letting the tips of her fingers trace a path from her collar bone, over her breasts, and down her stomach. “I had a dream about us last night, and when I woke up I just … Oh, Dee!”
A cheetah had nothing on him. Before Suz could gasp, Dee’s body covered hers, his mouth worked against her own. Dionysius Zitka was a son of Zeus, and while he often hated that fact, the DNA had gifted him with, among other things, one hell of a libido. A woman barely had to say go to him before he was already going.
Suzette rid him of his clothes as fast as she was able to free up her hands to perform the task. Within moments, he filled her as his hands anchored under her, holding her in place as he began his tantalizing oscillations of rushed and rabid, interchanged with slow and methodic, a switch of tempos he had developed especially for Suzette. For a good twenty minutes, he played her body like a baby grand, alternating adagio and allegro, until finally, he had her strung so tightly and on edge she was beyond the ability to cope.
Her throaty voice begged. “Dee, please. Please …”
He sunk himself into her with aching patience. “Please what, Suzette?”
“Stop teasing me. I need it.”
One corner of his mouth raised as he pulled out quickly and
slammed in to her twice as hard. “Are you close?”
“Like candy on my tongue.”
He waited a moment before repeating his thrust with blinding calculation. “You sure? Each time I get you closer and pull back, the sweeter the end.”
“I’m going to fall to pieces if you don’t let me go now.” This time, she hooked her hands over his shoulders and used the leverage to push herself hard against him.
“Okay, I aim to please.” With that, his passion unleashed. Dee grabbed Suzette on the hips as he pulled out, and in one smooth movement, flipped her over. When he entered her again, his arms circled around her from behind, hand pinching a pebbled peak above that complimented a twin movement at the apex of her sex. His pace was dizzying as he cycled into her so aggressively, the iron-bed frame began a walk across the floor. He closed his eyes as he felt her begin to crest, knowing he was just moments from following her.
She cried out his name and arched as the wave of ultimate pleasure ran through her. Dee’s eyes shot open as he took in the sight of her body, slick with sweat, and the hues of her aura fluctuating. For him, the blazing colors of Suzette’s soul gave him almost as much pleasure as her satisfied smile when she came. Oh, to have the blessings to see what he did to her. If only she could see what she did to him.
Though they knew a pile of paperwork awaited them downstairs, they wouldn’t be rushed. She tucked her head into the crook of his arm as his hand hooked around and stroked her blonde curls.
“Well, that’s one hell of a good morning,” he laughed.
“Was either that or a latte,” she joked.
“Damn, you mean I could have had a latte?” They exchanged a warm smile. “Well, if I can’t have coffee, at least I got cream.”
The blonde’s face screwed up. “Eww, Dee, really? You have to go there? I thought you had a better developed sense of humor than that.” The laugh that followed suggested that while put off, she wasn’t put out. Suzette rolled, taking a sheet off the end of the bed and wrapping it around her before sitting on the edge of the mattress. “Dee, we need to talk.”
The demigod sighed. Experience had taught him that while a woman wanting to talk to him was a great thing, when she “needed” to talk, what followed was rarely pleasant.
“What’s up?”
Her hand reached out and laid flat against his chest. Her French manicure contrasted against his olive skin. She took a slow, breath, letting out the entirety of her statement on the exhale. “I want you to know, the decision wasn’t easy. But I’ve been thinking about it for a while. Putting it off, is what I mean to say. But I have to do this now, or I’m scared I’ll lose my nerve. Dee, I’ve found another job. I’m giving you my two week notice.”
Surprise lifted his eyebrows and brought him up halfway off the bed. “Suz, if you need a raise, a different schedule, I can do that. You can’t just walk away without giving me a chance to counter.”
She used that planted hand to push him back down on the bed. “I appreciate that Dee, but that’s not why I’m leaving.” She hiccupped a chuckle. “Though if you want to offer a severance package, we can talk.”
“Why then?”
“Because I can’t go on with this.” The sheet dropped to the floor as she stood and began a practice lap for the Boston Marathon around the room. “You’ve never mistreated me, Dee. You never gave me any false encouragements about where this was going. That is, that it wasn’t going anywhere. I don’t want you to think this is in anyway your fault. But I … Look, I’ve enjoyed every minute with you; both the professional and the personal. But over the last few months, I can’t help but deny there’s been …”
“Don’t say it.”
“Feelings,” she concluded with no regard. “And I wrote it off as a temporary thing. But it’s not going away. I even thought about telling you, seeing if you wanted to take things in that direction. Then I found out about your wife, and how you lost her. And I get it … You can be content sharing your bed with me, because that doesn’t require you to feel anything.”
He rose to his feet but kept his distance. “I do care for you, Suz. I’m not some sleazy jockstrap who gets off on banging my assistant,” he shot back. “I’m not that guy.”
“No, Dee, you’re not. You’re kind, and sweet, and compassionate, and … Damn, let’s just say it, amazing in bed. Like I said, I don’t hold anything against you. But for me … It’s just not enough anymore. I’m not in love with you. I’m not that far gone. But I am saying if I stay in this arrangement any longer, that’s where I’m heading. Alone, because I see it now. You’re still too far gone on your wife. Your heart will always belong to her.”
His ass hit the bed as his heart sunk into his feet. Though his reactionary nature said to argue, his don’t-kid-your inner voice told him not to dare. “I’ll give you a great reference, write letters of recommendation. I hope you know that. If this is your decision, I’ll respect that. Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it.”
A smile brightened across her face. It didn’t pass Dee that it was different however. It was more of a sympathetic glare. She nailed him. She nailed him perfectly, and she knew it. And that was … okay. It contented her. If the truth was that Dee just couldn’t be anything more than what he was, it was because of him, not her. When she crossed to him and laid her head against his chest, he knew that while her words said thank you, what her body was saying was good-bye.
Chapter 17
“Mead maiden!”
Jerry waved over the barkeeper. The ebony-haired harpy wore enough ink on her arms to supply a regiment of Disney animators. While Jerry respected the craft and the artistry, he preferred a clean, untouched canvas. Only when skin was untainted would any bites and results of his labors show through. He thought of Riona’s arms, of the inside of her wrist, of how he could work her up so easily with a few maneuvers of his mouth and tongue in the crook of her elbow. Goddess in grief, how he wanted to touch her like that again …
The growling heifer before him anchored her fists on her hips—or at least, there were probably hips somewhere under the superfluous padding—and glared him down. “Barkeeper will work, or hell, even waitress. But you call me mead maiden, beer babe, or ‘jugs’ one more time, and I’m going to introduce your teeth to the back of your throat.”
“So feisty.” He swayed, catching the edge of the counter to right himself. He tapped the edge of his glass. “Listen, I’m on a mission, waitress. Do you know what it’s like to go eons without being able to get blitzed? Tonight, I’m going to be more plastered than an Italian cathedral.”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s two o’clock in the afternoon.”
He flicked his fingers. “Fine. This afternoon. Now, the question is, are you with me on this mission, or against me?”
“Depends on you making good on your tab, Father.”
Jerry did a double take. His hand shot up to his throat, aiming to confirm his memory of not having put on the collar today. “How do you know I’m your father? I mean, a padre. I mean … a priest.”
“Come on!” She leaned in, as though trying to keep someone else from overhearing. “Seriously, Marcello? You want to play that game?” She rolled her eyes as she turned her attention to wiping off the counter. “Your mother’s worried sick about you, you know. Said she’s been calling you for weeks but you aren’t answering. Don’t think because you got all high and holy, you’re too good for your own family.”
He leaned in over the counter. “On the contrary, they’re too good for me. I just don’t know who any of them are. But you can tell Moooom,” Taffy would be impressed by how far he stretched the word, “that I’m fine. Just dealing with some things.”
“Give me a double of whatever he’s having.”
Jerry wheeled around to the redhead who had just sat on the stool beside him. “Things like her,” he declared, pointing accusingly at the witch. “How did you find me?”
“Instinct,” Riona answered as she palmed the shot the barkeepe
r had just deposited before her. “Hey, Maria, how you doing?”
The barkeeper’s expression blossomed into a smile, her South Boston accent coming on in full. “Jesus Christ, Riona. What’s up with him? He’s being a total ass. I mean, more than usual.”
Riona laid an arm across Jerry’s shoulders and began to tug him away from the bar. “Communion wafers spoiled. You know him, he’s sensitive about that. I’ll handle the tab. Send us two beers?”
“Sure thing.”
At a table at the other side of the bar, sufficiently far enough for their voices not to be overheard, Riona sat him down. He’d forgotten how your feet and brain broke off negotiations whenever Jagermeister came between them. German brews could be so divisive. Jerry surrendered to the chair, his arms going lax. As his memory traced back over the centuries, he tried hard to recall if he was a happy drunk or an angry drunk. His eyes focused in on Riona, all three of them, hoping to heaven it was happy. He’d really hate to do something to piss her off. Well, no, that wasn’t exactly true, but he’d like to be sober enough when he did it to remember it clearly later.
“It wasn’t my idea to come back,” he started, feeling like he should apologize. “I had no clue it was even possible. I was sure Lucifer’d have me on latrine duty forever.”
She swigged her beer. “I know.”
“And I’m sorry I kissed you,” he continued. “Just, you know, old habits, and you are so fucking beautiful it’s hard to go two minutes of the day without remembering how good it feels being inside you.”
A little smile brimmed on the corners of her mouth. “If you say so.”
He held his arms out wide. “This is what I am. I was evil for thousands of years, witch, and I was really, really good it at. Some fancy Angeletti suit ain’t going to change that. Which reminds me…” His chest folded over the table, keeping him balanced. He pointed back to the bar, where Maria eyed him warily. “I’m related to that?”
Once You Go Demon (Pure Souls) Page 12
