"Jesse? You okay?"
Feeling the blood drain from my face, I withdrew my hand from his and placed it between my knees as I shivered. "Sorry. I'm okay. You just… reminded me of someone."
Thoughts flitted across his eyes, but all he said was, "Oh."
Shaking off the shreds of memory, I flashed him a smile, but it felt strained around the edges. "I really should go, get my ticket."
"Okay." He raked his hand through his hair, as if he was used to it being longer. A frown marred his brow. "Sorry I spooked you. It was nice meeting you."
"You too, Paul." I grabbed my suitcase and purse and dashed off, not knowing where I was going, just trying to get away from that husky voice inside my head. But even as I finally found the Amtrak board and got in line to purchase a one-way ticket to New York, I still heard that voice inside my mind, repeating the last thing it had said to me:
You're mine.
Collapsing on a red, high-backed seat on the Regional Service Amtrak train, I wrapped my arms around myself. Bless me six ways to Salvation, I was a former demon. I didn't get afraid. I caused fear. And wet dreams, but that was a side effect.
But I couldn't deny that I was terrified, down to my fragile human bones. How long could I avoid the malefic bounty hunters on my trail? If the Coveter hadn't been lying—always a toss-up when it came to demons—then I was worth a lot to whomever, or whatever, returned me to Hell. With such a high price, how long could I trust the witch's spell and the shield-stone to protect me?
And what would they do to me if I returned?
I inhaled deeply, then let out a shaky breath. I was not going to mind-fuck myself. Caitlin's nasty potion would work because she said it would, and I had to believe her. All I had to do was not use my powers, and the peridot hanging between my boobs took care of that. I could do this.
I would do this.
Feeling a tad better, I struggled to put my suitcase on the luggage rack over the seat. The blessed thing was too heavy. I hefted and grunted and shoved, and let out a few colorful curses. Suddenly the trunk flew out of my hands and into the rack.
Blinking, I wondered if I had accidentally cast a spell somehow—maybe the suitcase had a charm on it? Then I saw Paul grinning at me as he lowered his hands.
"Hope you don't mind," he said. "Looked like you could use some help."
My grin must have eaten my entire face. "Thanks. Fancy meeting you here."
"So, if you don't mind, I'd like to start over. Is this seat taken?"
With a laugh, I said, "Nope." I scooted to the window, and he sat next to me. Up close, I noticed how broad his shoulders were, how his arms were nicely muscled… how he had a musky scent that permeated his entire being. My right arm lay parallel to his left, each on an armrest, and I was fascinated by how tan his skin was, how golden his body hair was, compared with my pale flesh and dark hair. His hand could have swallowed mine and come back for seconds.
"I didn't see any luggage for you," I said, suddenly burning with curiosity about this mortal—this man with a poet's eyes and a fighter's nose. "You travel light."
He smiled, close lipped. "Boston was a one-day thing. Came last night. Glad to be leaving now."
"You live in New York?"
"Yup. You?"
I bit my lip, which was still sore from when I'd bitten it earlier. "I will be. Maybe."
He didn't say anything, just looked at me with those lovely eyes. A silence grew until I filled it with, "I'm getting a fresh start."
"Fresh is good." Something darkened his eyes for a moment. "Sometimes we have to leave stuff behind, do something new."
My heart somehow wound up in my head, because all I could hear was it thumping like crazy in my ears. "Exactly."
We stayed like that for a small eternity, our gazes locked and tongues tied, silently sharing secrets that we didn't dare speak aloud. The spell broke when the train started moving, and the conductor announced that all tickets should be ready for collection. Smiling sheepishly—and feeling stupid and goofy and excited, all mixed up into a big knot in my belly—I turned away to dig through my bag for the ticket I'd bought with Caitlin's credit card.
Placing the ticket on my lap, I saw that Paul had his ready to go too. He cast a glance at mine, and I could see his mind working. Did he notice the name on the ticket said "Caitlin Harris" instead of "Jesse Something"?
The ticket-taker came and went, and I placed the stub inside my purse. For a moment, I leaned back into the seat and watched the scenery outside the window as we rolled past, leaving a blur of color streaming behind. My eyes slipped closed, just for a moment, as I felt the train's vibrations tickle my spine and work its way into my neck.
And just over four hours later, I awoke with my head on Paul's shoulder as the conductor announced over the loudspeaker that we'd arrived at New York City's Penn Station.
Chapter 4
Penn Station/Hotel New York
I thought I'd seen ordered chaos at Boston's South Station during morning rush hour. That was a sneeze compared with the epidemic of people spread throughout Penn Station. Everyone had somewhere to go, somewhere to be—and they were all late. Even those few people who walked instead of strode, who meandered instead of marched, had an energy to them, a vibrant thrum that I didn't sense in Boston. It filled the air, overriding the stench of humanity and technology.
And the stores! It was like a city block had fallen beneath the surface, an Atlantis submerged in retail and anchored by multiple train lines. Bookstores and pharmacies and shoe stores—ooh, shoes—and food… bless me, all of the food! Restaurants and small specialty shops and delicatessens and snack carts and on and on and on. How much value did these mortals place on the appetite? Remembering my recent experience with my breakfast muffin, my mouth watered.
Unbelievable. I was hungry again. Maybe creatures of Gluttony had a better understanding of humans than a former succubus.
Nah. Eating that muffin had been close to orgasmic, but still fell way short of the real thing.
By my side, Paul waited as I looked around like a love-struck fool gazing at the stars. Leaning against the suitcase's handle, he said, "You look overwhelmed."
"Not overwhelmed," I said as I stared at a doughnut storefront, wondering why Americans purposefully misspelled certain words. It should have been Crispy, with a C instead of a K. And Kreme was wrong on two counts. If the owners couldn't even spell properly, what did that say about the quality of their food? "Whelmed, maybe. But not overwhelmed."
He laughed, and once again I felt my body react to the sound. Warmth rippled from my belly, reaching up to my breasts and down to touch my groin, then disappeared, leaving my nipples hard.
If that's just from his laugh, imagine what his fingers would do…
I bit my lip, hard. The pain was immediate and complete, and it shocked me out of my growing attraction to Paul. I couldn't afford to experiment with my new human emotions and desires. Not yet. Even if what I really wanted was to feel his breath hot against my skin as his mouth kissed my ear, my neck, my—
Crap. Now my panties were damp. Being human meant leaking at very inopportune times.
"Which way are you headed?" Paul asked. "I could walk you to the subway or a cab, wherever you're going."
"I…" Blinking, I realized I had no idea what I should do. My head began to pound as the reality of the past eight hours came crashing down on me. I'd walked away—okay, snuck away—from everything I'd ever known. For a gal who admitted to four thousand years, give or take a few centuries, that was saying a lot. What did a long-time succubus do with her newfound life?
And who would have thought that turning my back on Hell would also turn me into an interplanetary fugitive?
One thing at a time, I told myself. As long as I wore the Shield Against Evil and bore the effects of Caitlin's potion, I didn't have to worry about the infernal bounty hunters. At least that was something. "I have to think things through. Figure out what to do first."
He
looked at me long and hard, those sea-green eyes measuring me. His voice soft, he asked, "Do you have a place to go to? Friends or family who are expecting you?"
If I saw any of my friends or family, I would run like fuck the other way. "No, but that's okay. I'll get a hotel room for now while I decide on a more permanent option."
"So you've got some money."
I nodded. "Some." At least, I did until Caitlin woke up and realized I'd, um, borrowed her wallet.
"Do you have a job?"
The words escaped my lips before I could stop them: "Not anymore." With a carefree shrug, I added, "Guess I have to find a new one."
He paused, as if he were absorbing my words. "I'm sure you'll find something." Smiling, he pushed my suitcase in front of him. "Come on, I'll walk you to Hotel New York. It's just across the street. I'm not sure what the rate is, but we can find out."
We. Ooh, I liked that. As we headed through a wall of people, I asked him, "You always help strangers in need?"
"I serve and protect," he said. "It's what I do."
"Romantic. A poet's eyes, and now a poet's words." Then I groaned. "Tell me I didn't say that out loud."
Laughing, he said, "I won't tell if you won't." His eyes sparkled when he laughed, like the sun dancing on the ocean. "You didn't get the reference, huh?"
I shrugged. "Should I have?" Other than a passing familiarity with recording artists, I was woefully out of touch with pop culture. Mental note: Watch more television.
"Nah, that's okay." His gaze lingered on mine. "You know, you look familiar. I'm good with faces, and I'd remember if I'd seen you before, so that's not it. But there's something about you…"
A blush crept up my face as he scrutinized me. "Oh? Maybe it's my dazzling personality?"
"That must be it." Smiling, he shook his head. "I swear I've seen you before."
I looked up at him, at the broad, chiseled lines of his face. I pictured him with his eyes closed, with his hair tousled from sleep and his body gleaming with sweat—there was no air-conditioning or central air in his apartment, and it was a hot night for September in the city…
And in that moment, I placed him.
Oh crap, why didn't I recognize him before? And more—what did this mean? If only I could talk to Megaera. Forget about dearly wishing I had my best friend to turn to; she was a Fury, closely linked with the Fates. Meg could read meaning in the clouds. Either that, or she faked it with the best of them.
In my mind, I heard Meg's voice whisper, We all do what we must.
And over that, another voice, full of sadness and wounded pride: If only you were right.
"Jesse? You've gone pale. You okay?"
I turned away from Paul and kept walking, increasing my pace. My heart slammed against my chest like it wanted to burst free, and my throat felt too tight. Did Paul know who I was? No, that was insane. I was in a different body—unholy Hell, I was a different entity—from when we last met. And he'd been asleep. There was no way he could know who I really was.
A hand on my shoulder stopped me. Nibbling my lip, I darted a glance at him.
"I know you don't know me," Paul said, his voice soft as a summer wind. "And I know you're running away from something, or someone. But you don't have to run from me."
"I never said I was running away."
"You didn't have to. It's written all over you." His eyes locked on mine. "You in trouble with the law?"
That startled me so much that I let out a full belly laugh, ending with me clutching my stomach and doubling over to try to muffle the sound. Finally I managed to say, "I haven't done anything illegal."
"That didn't answer the question."
Something in his voice froze the last drops of laughter in my throat. "No, I'm not in trouble with the law." Trouble didn't begin to describe what I was in. Deep shit came to mind. And mortal law was the least of my worries.
His gaze softened, and he reached over to brush away stray locks of hair that dangled in front of my eyes. "Can I help you?"
I wanted to say, Yes. Wrap me in your arms and keep me warm and tell me everything's going to be okay. Kiss away my fears and teach me how to live. Hold my hand as I experience everything for the first time and fill my heart with the sound of your laughter.
Barring that, an orgasm would be nice.
I said none of those things. Instead I smiled, perhaps a bit wanly, and said, "Walk me to the hotel you mentioned."
He did. And in the lobby, he presented me with my suitcase and squeezed my shoulder once. He took a piece of the hotel's stationery and wrote his name and phone number on it. Folding it in my hand, he said, "Call me. Whenever you want."
"You always give your number to strangers?" I asked, trying to be coy.
"The question is, do the strangers call me back?"
"Do they?"
"In your case?" He winked at me. "I hope so."
I watched Paul walk out of the hotel lobby, enjoying the way his legs moved, how relaxed he seemed with his jacket slung over one shoulder. Maybe he sensed my gaze on his back (and lower down), because he looked back at me and lifted his hand in a wave. I did the same, and as he walked out of my line of sight my fingers curled into a loose fist that I placed against my heart. Beneath it, the peridot charm was cool, indifferent.
The only thing evil about Paul was the way he made me feel. Ooh, the things I wanted to do to him, to show him…
… the things I'd already done to him…
Blowing out a frustrated sigh, I let that thought go. He'd freaked me out when he said he'd seen me before. I hadn't counted on my very last client to show up in my new life.
Of course, I hadn't counted on taking a place on the Underworld's Most Wanted list. It wasn't like I had done anything wrong. (Well, other than going AWOL.) I didn't know anything that other demons didn't know.
Except their loyalty was unquestioned. They were still creatures of the Pit. Because I ran, I was a wild card. And the King of Hell didn't tolerate gambling.
A sharp pain in my hand pulled me out of my dark thoughts, and I realized I'd squeezed my fist so hard that my nails had pierced my flesh. Fascinated, I watched blood seep into the half-moon marks on my palm, transforming them into ruby crescents.
Enough moping, I told myself. Time to take control of your life.
I walked over to the front desk, where a dashing man stood behind the counter, typing on his computer. Glancing at me, he put on a perfunctory smile and said, "May I help you?"
Pouring on the charm, I said, "Yes, thanks. I'd like to check in, please."
His smile warmed, obviously pleased that I wanted to spend money in his establishment. "Do you have a reservation?"
"No," I said, standing on tiptoe to lean close to him over the counter. "But maybe you could scare something up for me?"
He began to type on the keyboard. "I'm sure I can find something. Single occupancy?"
"For now," I said, a note of wistfulness in my voice.
With a chuckle, he said, "Okay, single. How long will you be staying?"
"Oh, I don't know. Let's start with two nights and take it from there."
Clackety clack clack. His fingers moved so quickly, so dexterously. I wondered what else he could do that skillfully with his fingers. Then I wondered if human females were always in heat, or if that was just me being… well, me.
"I can give you a standard room for tonight and tomorrow night, at two-fifty-nine a night, for a total of six-oh-five forty-six."
It took me a moment to realize he was talking about price.
Pulling out Caitlin's wallet, I flipped it open and popped out a credit card. "Here you go."
"I just need some ID, please."
Offering Caitlin's Massachusetts State ID, I smiled brightly.
He glanced at it, then at me. My smile broadened as he took the Visa card. The transaction went through, and in a moment he told me I'd been put in room 217. I'd half-expected to get something cheesy like room 666.
"I can't
give you the key card yet," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "Check-in's not until three. But if you want, you can leave your suitcase here until three o'clock."
"That's great," I said, wheeling the trunk over to him behind the counter. "I have some shopping to do anyway."
Chapter 5
Belles/Hotel New York
Whistling the "I Love New York" theme, I ambled past the club, three overly stuffed shopping bags in tow, before I did a double take, my sex radar blipping. The name was stenciled in silver on the frosted window, as well as on the black awning: Belles. Next to the name was the distinctive hourglass silhouette of a female begging to be on the cover of a bodice ripper.
Bubbling with curiosity, I opened the door and walked inside. The entrance was dimly lit, making me blink after basking in the afternoon brightness. Up ahead came the distinctive sounds of honky-tonk music. Humming along with the song as I wandered down the hallway, I placed it as a Shania Twain hit. Like most nefarious creatures, I knew who many recording artists were; it was amazing how many young hopefuls were desperate enough to turn to Hell for an edge in getting a foot in the door and launching a career. Unlike many of my former brethren, I knew the names simply because I loved the music. Passion turned to melody, emotion given life in song… ah, ecstasy! Just thinking about it made my G-spot tingle.
With Shania singing loud enough to make my eyes vibrate in their sockets, I took in the large room. A glass-topped mahogany bar sprawled along the left wall; behind it, bottles stood at attention, waiting to be used. Above hung rows of glasses, suspended by their stems. How the crystal withstood the ear-shattering decibel of the music was anybody's guess. Numerous flat-screen televisions decorated the walls around the bar. Off to the side was a foosball table, its players standing half-cocked, just waiting to come to attention and get slap-happy.
Mirrors winked like interactive wallpaper, reflecting the rest of the room ad nauseam. To my right, divided from the bar by a mahogany half-wall with a cutout entrance, were rows of round tables, black and cold, each surrounded by three plush gray chairs. The front tables bumped up against a white stage with a runway, the corners adorned with a low, brass rail. A slim pole at the end of the stage caught the targeted beams of multicolored spotlights, casting the silver with hints of red, green, and blue. On stage, a blond woman danced as she held onto the pole. Either that, or she had a bug in her cleavage she was trying to shake free.
Hell on Earth 1 - Hell's Belles Page 4
