by Kathy Love
He heard her saying those words she’d said to Adam—when Adam had still been Adam. And he knew she’d meant them. He could just—tell.
Love. Yet another thing he’d never contemplated. Love—not a foreign concept to demons, but to him, yes.
She roused then, nestling among her pillows. She smiled sweetly at him, and something in his chest tightened. A painfully full feeling.
“Time for bed?” She still didn’t remember. But she would.
“For you, yes.” He brought her thick duvet up, tucking it around her.
“You aren’t coming to bed?” Her face fell like a child being told she couldn’t have a toy or a piece of candy.
“I will in a minute. You just rest.”
“Now,” she said with languid bossiness.
He chuckled. And he was so tempted to hold her, just for a moment.
But he couldn’t. He didn’t feel that he deserved to hold her. Not after the events of tonight. Not when she would eventually be repulsed by him.
“In a bit. Rest.”
She sighed, then murmured, “You’d never fall for Gina, would you?”
He almost laughed, amazed that was all she’d retained of their crazy night.
“Not in a million years.”
She smiled again, and he did allow himself to lean in for one last kiss. Her little hands came up to cup his face, the touch both sweet and sensual at the same time. Just like her.
He pulled away, telling himself he had to leave. Gather himself. Get real.
But instead of leaving, something urged him to stay. He walked around to the other side of the bed, watching her. Then he eased himself onto the mattress, just lounging beside her, arms crossed. Not touching her.
He’d stay just a little longer, until he decided what he had to do.
Small hands touched his body, slipping inside his shirt over his skin. His sleep-quieted body hummed to life. Every nerve ending centered on that touch. Phantom lips joined in, hot, moist, feathery kisses following the path forged by roaming hands.
He pressed his head back into the pillows, arching his body in response to both caresses. He just wanted more. More.
And more came. Hands teasing down past his navel, down lower, lower. He moaned as fingers curled around his rigid cock. Then the hand began to stroke. Up. Down. Up. Down. A slick palm and fingers squeezing over his shaft. Over. And over.
He moaned again. The motion stopped, even though the hand still held his turgid flesh. Then another sensation hit him, as powerful and jarring as a battering ram. Yet such a tiny thing.
A breath. A hot puff of air against the oversensitized skin of his erection. His cock pulsed in response.
Another fiery breath, then a single, body-wracking lick up the length of his penis.
His own loud, harsh groan woke him. Another dream. Another one, so realistic, so amazing. Even now, so real.
“Hi.”
Killian lifted himself on an elbow to find Poppy kneeling by his hip, her small, delicate hand holding his erection. A thumb stroked the sensitive underside.
He closed his eyes, releasing a shuddering breath. When he opened them again, Poppy was still there. No figment of his imagination. No specter in a dream.
She smiled, and in the dim light, he could see the indent of her dimple.
“Lie back,” she told him, lightly moving her hand over him.
He did as she asked, falling back against the mattress, and was instantly driven mad.
Her tongue lapped up his length again and around the head. His hips rose up of their own volition. He was like a puppet, her hands, her mouth making him act on her demand.
She licked him again, then slowly brought his length into her mouth. Her movements took on a new speed, a new intensity. She sucked and licked and swirled her amazing little tongue until he felt ready to burst.
He groaned, the sound broken, raspy. She hummed in response, the sound vibrating all around his cock. He groaned again, one of his hands knotting in her hair, the other in the bedding at his side.
In tune with his reactions, Poppy began to bob her head, faster and faster, her mouth making love to him.
His release hit him, ripping through his entire body, tensing his muscles to the point of pain. Then nothing but bliss, total, mind-blowing ecstasy.
Poppy stayed with him, riding out the entirety of his orgasm, only moving when he tugged her up to lie by his side, half on the bed, half on him.
“That,” he managed to mumble between gasps, “was amazing.”
She grinned, clearly quite pleased with his reaction and with herself. He caught the back of her head with his hand, pulling her in for a kiss. He could taste the saltiness of himself on her lips.
That possessiveness he so often felt around her returned, stronger than ever. She nestled in against his side, idly circling a fingertip around his nipple.
“I thought that was just a dream. At first,” he told her.
Poppy angled her head to smile at him, then returned her attention to her swirling finger.
“I’ve had dreams about you,” she said after a moment. Her voice was quiet, maybe even a little shy.
“Have you?”
Her head nodded against his chest. “A couple, actually. And last night, I had the strangest one.”
He watched her expression, intent. “Tell me.”
She shook her head. “It was silly. But I have had other ones too. Sexy ones.”
She told him about those, dreams he already knew, because he’d had them too. Shared dreams.
“I’ve had the same exact dreams,” he said suddenly, knowing he shouldn’t admit it, but needing to tell her. Compelled to tell her.
She raised her head again. “The same? Exactly?”
He nodded.
“How can that be?”
He shook his head, even as he answered her silently: Because I’m a demon.
He kissed her. They kissed for minutes, hours, he didn’t know. He was just lost in her, in every facet of her being. Gradually their kisses fueled a deeper exchange, but this time their lovemaking was unhurried, sweet and slow. Hands touching each other in gentle, exploring brushes. Small kisses scattered over each other’s bodies.
Until finally, he pressed her back against the mattress, slowly entering her. A small gasp escaped her as he filled her completely, then just remained deep inside her. Feeling every nuance of her body under his.
Then eyes still locked, he began to move. Their fingers linked above her head, and he loved her with his whole body, never breaking their gaze.
And when both their climaxes finally came, they still remained totally in tune with each other. The moment was more sensual, more powerful than anything Killian had ever experienced.
Poppy’s hand came up and touched his cheek, the caress sweet, loving. Her dark eyes searched his.
“I had another dream—one in which I told you I loved you. I am in love with you,” she said, her voice so quiet he wasn’t quite sure that he’d heard her correctly. Then she kissed him, and he felt all her love in that single moment.
She smiled at him when they parted. Then she moved to curl against him, her back to his chest. He held her close, the thrill of her words warring with pain.
She loved him.
They stayed like that until the sun was starting to rise in the sky and her breathing was even again.
Then carefully, he eased himself out of bed. As silently as possible, he dressed. He leaned over and kissed her. Tiny kisses on her eyelids, her nose, her lips.
Then he stood, backing away from the bed, and he said the words that he knew he couldn’t deny any longer. The words that would damn him.
“I love you too.”
Almost instantly the room spun, Poppy disappearing from his view as he was sucked away in a swirl of pitch black and blood red.
CHAPTER 36
Poppy stretched, then opened her eyes, expecting to see Killian’s sleeping face on the pillow next to her. Instead, she was gree
ted by an empty bed and a flood of confusing, frightening memories.
She pushed herself upright, still wanting to find him, despite what she thought she knew.
“Killian,” she called. The apartment was silent. “Killian.”
She got out of bed, pulling on just her panties and a T-shirt that had been flung on the back of her bedroom chair. She padded into the living room. The apartment was still and empty feeling.
“Killian?”
Almost instantly she knew he was gone.
She went back to the bedroom, realizing all traces of him had disappeared as if he’d never existed. Had he?
She walked back to the living room, then to the kitchen. No signs. Maybe she’d imagined him. Her—demon lover.
She walked back to the bedroom and dropped on the edge of the bed.
Yes, he was gone.
* * *
By afternoon, Poppy realized she couldn’t just accept that Killian, whatever he was, hadn’t been real. God knew the heartbreak she was feeling sure felt real. Painfully real.
And maybe what she thought she’d remembered wasn’t accurate. She had no memory of getting home, or anything after her brief talk with Adam. Maybe she wasn’t remembering the rest of the night accurately either.
So she went to the one place she could think of to find Killain. With resolve, she knocked on the door. Then waited. And waited.
Again her determination flagged. But she knocked again.
Another few moments, then the doorknob wiggled. Poppy pulled in a calming breath.
“Poppy.”
Poppy deflated. “Ginger. I—I’m sorry to wake you.”
The other woman pushed sleep-tousled hair away from her face and fought back a yawn.
“That’s okay.” She frowned, her eyes going from drowsy to concerned. “You didn’t hear something from the girls, did you? Is everything okay?”
“No,” Poppy said quickly. “No, nothing like that. I was actually looking for Killian. Is he here?”
Ginger’s frown deepened. “Killian?”
“Yes. Your cousin.”
Her neighbor stared at her for a moment, concern returning. “I don’t have a cousin named Killian.”
Poppy’s stomach dropped, a horrible sick feeling rushing through her. “Umm—are you sure? Tall, very handsome, from Sweden?”
Ginger smiled. “Well, he sounds like a good cousin to have, but he isn’t my cousin.”
Poppy looked around, suddenly not sure what to do or say. Killian wasn’t Ginger’s cousin.
“Are you okay?” Ginger asked, her smile dissolving into a worried motherly look.
“Yes—yes.” Poppy attempted to gather herself. “I—I guess I misunderstood. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”
She looked around again, trying to get her muddled brain together enough to walk away.
“I’ll talk to you later,” she said to Ginger, forcing her feet to move, hurrying down the hall back to her apartment.
She heard Ginger call something after her, but she couldn’t register the words.
She made it back to her apartment, stepping inside. She collapsed against the closed door, her mind whirling.
What had she just experienced over the past week? She just didn’t know.
“Hey,” Daisy called as she stepped into the apartment. “I’m home.”
She was greeted by silence. Dropping her bags in the hallway, she headed toward the living room.
Poppy sat in the rocker, her face stony.
Daisy’s heart sunk.
“Hey,” she said tentatively. “What’s wrong?”
“Who is Killian?”
Daisy felt the air being sucked out of her chest.
“Who is he, Daisy? Because I know for a fact he isn’t Ginger Cobb’s cousin. She’d never heard of him.”
Daisy scrambled, trying to think of what to say. God, she shouldn’t have gone away this weekend. She should have known they couldn’t leave a demon here unsupervised.
“He—he is …” Daisy couldn’t think of a single reasonable explanation. “He was just a guy.”
Poppy stood, her movements abrupt, agitated.
“Just a guy?” She laughed at that, the sound harsh, brittle. “Did you hire him, Daisy? Was he a—a paid escort or something?”
“No!” Daisy shook her head. “Nothing like that.”
Poppy ran a hair through her hair, her dark eyes glittering as if she was painfully close to tears.
“Then what?” Poppy’s voice sounded frantic.
Daisy fought her own urge to cry. Her plan wasn’t supposed to go like this. The demon was just supposed to find Poppy a boyfriend. Nothing more.
“Who is he?” Poppy demanded when Daisy stood there, speechless.
Daisy gave her a pained look, close to tears herself. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me.”
“He—he’s …” How could she tell Poppy this? Her sister would think she was nuts.
Poppy widened her eyes, waiting.
Daisy could tell her sister that she had hired Killian. As a matchmaker. But she knew Poppy wouldn’t just accept that. She’d want to know where Daisy had found him. What agency or whatever he worked for. All sorts of questions that Daisy wouldn’t have answers to. The hole would just get bigger and bigger.
So before she realized what she actually planned, Daisy blurted out the truth. “He’s a demon.”
Poppy opened her mouth, then snapped it shut.
Daisy waited for her sister to yell, to tell her to stop making up stories, even to look shocked. But instead she looked almost resigned, hurt.
Daisy could feel tears rolling down her cheeks, and she just started talking, spilling the whole truth.
“You know those books I love? The Jenny Bell ones—” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Well, they have spells in them. So Madison, Emma and I decided to try one. It was supposed to conjure a demon who would fulfill a wish. We thought it would be fun.”
* * *
Poppy stared at her sister. This was madness. Utter madness.
Yet she said, “So you did the spell, and Killian appeared.”
Daisy nodded, tears streaking her cheeks. “We didn’t actually think it would work.”
Poppy collapsed back into the rocker. So the strange memories of demons and Satan were true.
“I swear, that is the truth,” Daisy said. “I swear.”
“I know.”
“You do?”
Poppy nodded, but she suddenly needed to be alone. She needed to process. “Go to your room. Please.”
Daisy gave her pleading look. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”
Poppy nodded again.
Daisy turned to leave, when Poppy stopped her.
“What was the wish?”
Daisy blinked back more tears. “He was supposed to find you a boyfriend. Your soul mate.”
Souls. That was Killian’s trade. He worked in souls. And never had he really thought much about his own. Or whether he even had one.
Now he knew he did. But it had been left with Poppy when he’d been sucked back to Hell. And now he just felt empty. Hollow.
He tossed down the controller to his Xbox and reached for his scotch. He took a sip and looked around at his ultramodern apartment. All the luxuries he could want: a huge TV, surround sound, expensive leather furniture, toys, gadgets—he had them all.
But all he kept thinking about was a small apartment with eclectic décor, no expensive perks and the most perfect person he’d ever met.
He kept thinking of Daisy’s comment about wanting someone perfect for Poppy. He’d wondered then if perfection existed.
Now he knew for certain it did. And he’d lost it forever.
After he’d gotten back to Hell, Satan had called both him and Vepar to his court. There he’d punished Vepar for attempting to kill a pure human, banishing him to the Ninth Circle of Hell to work in the molten lava mines. And he’d punished
Killian too, forbidding him to return to the mortal realm.
“You’ve more than used up your vacation time,” Satan had told him in his thunderous voice.
Still, Killian had tried right away to transport himself back to her, knowing if he only got to see her one more time it would be worth it. But he couldn’t do it. In the same way he’d been trapped in the human dimension, he was now trapped here.
He polished off his liquor, then reached for the bottle on the glass coffee table, refilling his crystal glass.
He’d been back here for days. A week, a month, he couldn’t recall now. One day rolled into another, an endless abyss of weltschmerz—not Swedish but close enough. and all he knew for sure was he had eternity ahead of him. Eternity without Poppy.
He realized he’d never really understood the implications of being damned to Hell until now.
He polished off another glass of scotch, which did nothing to squelch his pain, no matter how many glasses, how many bottles, he drank.
He stretched out on the sofa, closing his eyes. Poppy instantly appeared to him. Dark hair and eyes. That sweet smile. Her infectious laugh. Her small, gorgeous body against his.
Did she even know he loved her?
* * *
“We should just redo the spell,” Madison said.
Daisy shook her head, sneaking another peek at her sister. Poppy sat in her bed, pencil in hand, doing something in a black bound book.
“We don’t even know how we got him last time,” Daisy whispered. “What if we get another demon?”
“She fell in love with him,” Emma said with a sigh that was somewhere between wistfulness and regret.
Daisy agreed. She didn’t understand how she’d missed it, but yes, she knew Poppy had fallen in love with Killian. Poppy hadn’t said so, but Daisy could just tell. Her sister acted like she was okay. She never even talked about him. What was there to say, really?
All Daisy knew was that she felt awful.
“I got the new Jenny Bell book,” Emma said, sitting on Daisy’s bed, “but I don’t even know if I want to read it.”
Daisy knew it was irrational to take out her frustration on the book—after all they were the ones who’d tried the spell—but she kind of agreed. Jenny Bell didn’t seem so great anymore.
Poppy picked up a red pencil, shading in what she’d just drawn.
