by Nina Harper
Marten, with his casually cut blond hair that fell over the collar of his Caribbean blue cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up, looked perfectly of a piece with the living room. Today he really was the Armani ad surfer boy: toothpaste smile, light bronze skin, expensive leather sandals on his feet.
For the first time I felt like I was seeing him just as he was, without the magician or the Eurotrash boy toy. He was more relaxed. Maybe that was because he was at home, or maybe because I’d seen him in ritual and now he and I had a history. He’d been in my apartment, in my life, and he was showing me his.
“Welcome,” he said, and it sounded almost formal, almost like one of the old greetings of Hell. Stepping over the threshold felt like a kind of ritual. I had the impression that Marten didn’t invite many people over.
“Would you like something to drink? Some coffee, perhaps? I have some made.”
I smiled and accepted. He disappeared for a moment into the kitchen and came out with two blue mugs that matched the room. Sugar and milk in cheerful crockery were already on the table. He had set out a plate of little pastries, tiny flaky tarts with bits of pineapple and mango decorating the tops. Another plate held cheese and a knife, creamy gold Gouda and dill Havarti.
I thanked him and sat down on the sofa, which was comfortable and lush, and fixed my coffee. He seemed strangely shy almost, as if my being in his home had changed something between us.
“How are you feeling?” I asked. “You were in pretty rough shape last night.”
“Quite recovered,” he said, smiling.
“We did pretty well back there,” I said. “I have to admit, what you did to get Raven back, I’m really impressed.”
“I’m impressed by the way you bargained with the incubus,” he said and smiled at me. “But I’m concerned about the fact that he showed up in the first place. We thought these were not the type to summon demons and here it appeared this one was working for them. Or with them.”
“Could you have gotten the incubus with the ritual by accident? Does he have to be connected to the people who held Raven?” I asked. “Meph says he must have been sent by the demon who is running that group. To make sure that you couldn’t pull her through without being destroyed. I guess whoever it was didn’t know you couldn’t summon Raven yourself, and so they didn’t think there would be anyone else around. It’s a good thing that Satan insisted that we come, even though I didn’t think we were needed.”
He got up and went into another room, returning with a thick book. He sat close to me on the sofa, close enough that the distance should dissolve entirely. Why were we bothering with coffee and stilted conversation when all I wanted was to be lost in his eyes?
He balanced the book held between us. It was covered in ancient leather, dark and worn around the edges. Once it had been stamped with gold writing, but only a few flecks of the foil remained.
“It’s a grimoire, a real one. I have to explain something to you. I had not told you everything before. Yes, I am an accountant, but I’m a forensic accountant and I work for Interpol, mostly investigating money laundering. I was on a team that was following a money trail and broke a child-trafficking ring. I got into the library before anyone else in the team, maybe because they figured that was the right place for the accountant.” He smiled at this and shook his head. “Anyway, the library was full of ancient magical texts, things that anyone trained in ritual would have given years of soul to own. All there.”
“You took them?”
He shrugged. “None of my colleagues would have understood their value. And—I understood not only what was in them, but why the ring had managed to escape for so long. In fact, I was able to use the notes and diaries to trace the criminals to where they had hidden.”
“I thought you’d caught them?” I was intrigued in spite of myself. If he could track down international child traffickers he could probably find our kidnappers and whoever was stealing from Hell. Considered objectively, Marten was one very impressive guy.
“We found more,” he said. “There are always more with that kind of evil. Does this matter to you?”
“Of course it matters,” I said. Everything he did mattered. But on top of being a ritual magician he captured criminals—and here I thought the days of white knights were long gone. “But if tracking down missing money and disappearing money is what you do, then you’re much more what Marduk needs than I ever thought. It’s all just so . . .”
“Efficient,” Marten finished the sentence. “Mephistopheles likes the way this plan is coming together. Now all I need to do is actually sit down with Marduk’s records. Which should have been downloaded to my machine while we were otherwise occupied.”
“You haven’t looked at them yet?”
He shook his head. “There will be time when you are not here, in my living room. I want you to stay, Lily. I know you cannot, that you have a life in New York that you cannot leave. But I wish that you could.”
I didn’t want to leave. Marten was staying here and I was getting on a plane to New York and I had no idea of when I would see him again. I had to know that I wasn’t losing him, that we would work out . . . something. I couldn’t imagine my life without Marten. I kissed him and it was as if he had been waiting for me all along. He held me so hard that it felt he was holding me safe from all the hurt and harm strewn around us.
I was in love with two men. One was afraid of what I was and fell apart when he thought about it, and the other one lived thousands of miles away.
For a moment I thought about it. Then all my attention was on Marten’s lips and hands, the smell of his hair, the warmth of his skin and the strength of the muscle underneath.
We took our time. All I could think of was how he tasted of pineapple and sunshine and French Roast, black. He kissed my hair and I ruffled his, reveling in the softness. So little about Marten was soft . . .
He picked me up as if I weighed nothing. I could feel no strain in his arms as he carried me across the living room and down a short hallway to his bed. The sheets smelled of sunshine and clean, the Caribbean light penetrating the gauze curtains and the scent of tropical flowers wafting in from the garden encroaching on the wall. I reached up to unbutton his shirt, but he shook his head. “No, let me . . .”
And he kissed every inch of my exposed arms and shoulders before he lifted the green silk cami over my head. No second agenda intruded. He didn’t care that I was a succubus, or that he was a magician or that we lived thousands of miles apart. I didn’t care either.
I wanted to tell him that I understood, but as soon as I tried to talk he lay a finger over my lips. “Shhhh,” he said, and kissed me again. “Poor Lily. Everyone sees you for what you can do for them, for your beauty, for your demon irresistibility. Shhhhh. I want to show you that I love you for you, because you are smart and brave and so loyal to your friends, and I admire that.”
I wanted Marten. I didn’t want him to be Nathan. I wanted him to be Marten, the magician, the accountant, the surfer dude, the kind of guy who lives in Paradise. I wanted him to be exactly who he was, and I was a little awed and a little thrilled that he loved me.
Marten loved me.
He had removed his clothes. I wanted to trace the hollows in his hips, the delicate molding that defined his developed chest and arms, the deep curve of the deltoid meeting the bicep, changing topography as he moved over the sheets. He made no attempt to hide himself and his arousal was almost painfully evident, but his whole attention was only for me.
“Marten, please,” I pleaded. Me, who never asked, who never had to ask. He smiled lazily and stroked my belly and licked my belly button, which made me squirm and beg even more noisily. My fingers tore into his honey hair, trying to push him down to pay attention where he ought, where I needed him. Every second was eternity, every eternity doubled my desire.
He was beautiful and I wanted him, I wanted him right now. I wanted his fingers and his mouth and his cock. I wanted everything all at once, so b
adly that I couldn’t even ask any more. I could only writhe and pant and moan.
Finally his hand brushed between my legs, far too gently, and found me slick. When he touched me again he wasn’t too gentle and I screamed with relief and mounting desire.
“Now,” I ordered him. “I want you hard now, now, now!”
He knew how to obey as well as command. He gave me his body as he slid into me, a gift without any thought of return. I had never appreciated just how large he was; now I reveled in how completely he filled me. And then I started coming and didn’t stop, didn’t stop for how long, until I felt truly, thoroughly satisfied, his huge cock hammering faster and faster until there was only overwhelming pleasure with no respite.
Only as the waves of desire started to build again did I realize that he had kept up the rhythm and his face was red with effort. “You may come now,” I said, delighted with the notion of giving him permission, more delighted that he had waited, had served me so completely and still held off his own satisfaction. And even that was mine.
Then he gave himself over to the demands of his body, and mine, with a focused passion that reminded me that he had remained celibate since he had left New York. His orgasm held nothing back and I felt complete and powerful again, fully satisfied and fulfilled in his abandonment.
Afterward he cradled me in his arms and wouldn’t let me go. His skin smelled of sunshine and sweat, clean and simple.
I could have stayed all afternoon and all night. I could have missed my flight, missed New York entirely, if Meph hadn’t called just then. The jangle of Marten’s mobile interrupted our reverie. I didn’t hear what Meph had to say, but after he hung up Marten told me that Meph had reminded him that I only had a few hours until I left. And that we should remember that we still had to check in and pass security.
Maybe I should have taken a shower, but I wanted the smell of him on my skin. I wanted to think about these moments all the way back to New York, think about my wonderful island lover who was, now, truly my love.
My boyfriend, I thought. Only the word boyfriend seemed too small to cover what I felt.
“What are we going to do?” I asked softly after I had dressed. My hair was messy and I hadn’t touched the makeup that must have been smeared during sex.
“Something,” Marten said softly. “I will not let you go, Lily. I will not let you slip out of my life into New York and never see you again.”
“Promise,” I said as he pulled me in to his chest. “Promise that you’ll see me soon, that you’ll come to New York.”
“Or you’ll come back here,” he added. “Or we can meet on another island, not so far for you. I often have to work in St. Maarten or St. Kitts or any one of a thousand places. But you will come down and I will see you, if you will promise me too.”
“I promise,” I said solemnly, and he kissed me to seal our bargain.
I got on the plane brokenhearted and elated at the same time. Marten loved me. Really truly loved me. I spent the entire flight home thinking about this new relationship. When we changed planes in Miami I pulled out my Treo and found that Marten had already sent me a text message. Just a quick “I love you” that made me warm and glowy all over.
It wasn’t until I had made it back to my own apartment that I remembered that I hadn’t seen any trace of Nathan at the airport.
chapter
TWENTY-NINE
The next morning at the office Danielle greeted me with a large latte and a lemon scone. “He’s back. We don’t know where he was, he isn’t talking, but he’s back.”
I was so confused that I had to ask “Who?” Which he? Nathan? Marten?
“Lawrence, of course,” she said as if I had lost my mind. “Lawrence came back yesterday and he’s been locked in his office and we’re expecting an explosion any minute now. And you. You look wonderful.” She stepped back and regarded me critically.
“That outfit is new,” she said after appraisal. “I don’t recognize it. Who?”
“Derek Lam,” I said proudly. She nodded with admiration. Lam is a young designer, very likely one of the next generation of greats, who has been getting a lot more than just buzz in New York fashion circles.
“The outfit is wonderful,” she conceded. “But there’s something else, I think. I think you are in love, Lily. I think you are happy! You must tell me all about him. This is not that beautiful boy from Yale, is it? I thought he broke your heart.”
“He did,” I admitted. “And he did it again. And I met a wonderful Dutch guy who is elegant and smart and treats me wonderfully well. And he reads our magazine.”
Danielle nodded sagely. “A Frenchwoman can always tell,” she pronounced. “I want to hear everything, all about him. Even if he is Dutch. Aren’t they, well, boring? Stodgy?”
I laughed. “No. Wait until I tell you about him . . .”
But she held up her hand. “I am anxious to hear every detail, but first we must think about Lawrence.”
Lawrence. Right. I thought I’d taken care of him! But the incubus was supposed to come in three days. Which now meant tomorrow, I thought. I couldn’t exactly tell Danielle, but I could certainly hint at something. And I had to find something that had been part of him to give the incubus to hunt him down.
“Danielle, did you bring that latte for me? Isn’t it getting cold? Why don’t you sit down while I tell you. Besides, I want that scone. I’m hungry. I forgot breakfast.”
“You often forget breakfast,” she agreed. “I think you do not keep any food in your apartment. One needs a good breakfast to think and function. Coffee alone is not enough.”
We could have an argument about that, but I wasn’t in the mood. My plans for Lawrence were too exciting, and in the press of changes over the past forty-eight hours I’d forgotten them. “I think I might have come up with a solution for Lawrence. I met someone who is interested. I am going to introduce them.”
Danielle sighed and shook her head. “Anyone reasonable will not want to date Lawrence. You must dislike this person very much to introduce him. And there is no reason to believe that finding someone to date will make Lawrence less crazy.”
I think I smirked. “Let’s just see how this goes. I think this person I have in mind is even more evil than Lawrence. In fact, I think Lawrence will be out of his league here. So—are there any new shoes I need to know about?”
Of course there were shoes I needed to know about. Sandals from Christian Louboutin and Jimmy Choo, and the first hints of fall boots from Dior and Versace. After she left, having shown me several choice examples, I found three delivery boxes from D&G, Fendi and Coach full of wallets and headbands (very big this year) and belts.
The Coach wallets were especially engaging, bright summer colors that would be easy to find in a purse. Hmmmm, that was a good note for the Accessories page, especially now that purses had gotten so large.
And because I was engaged with an entirely different world the time passed quickly and pleasantly. So when the phone rang and Desi told me that it was after six and wasn’t I going to meet them for drinks, I was shocked. I told her I’d be right over. No one had told me that we were getting together tonight. It was a good thing that Aruba wasn’t a bad change of time zone.
It was so good to see my friends again. It had been only a few days, but so much had happened. “I already ordered the lavender martini for you,” Desi said, pushing over a suspiciously pale drink. “It has blueberries and we thought you might need the antioxidants.”
“So, we’re dying to hear all about it,” Sybil launched right in. “Did you get Raven? What happened with Nathan? Did you see Marten? Did you defeat the Burning Men?”
“Did you identify the Burning Men?” Eros asked.
“We got Raven,” I said, and told them about the ritual and the incubus and siccing him on Lawrence. Panic hit for a moment, and then I reminded myself that there would have to be something around the office.
In fact, his white shirt shoot should be done and I n
eeded to collect the belts. That would give me plenty of opportunity to pick up something unobtrusive. Even the belts that he had touched would do in a pinch, his aura would be all over them, but I would like something better than that.
“Earth to Lily,” Desi said. “So you’re talking to an incubus now and handing over prey? That’s a change of policy, isn’t it?”
“I never had a problem with the incubi,” I said. “It was a political division over a thousand years old, and honestly I think it’s stupid. I would way rather that we all worked together. One happy island, you know.”
“Aruba is clearly getting to you,” Eros observed. “So I suspect you’ll be going back there. To visit someone?”
I shrugged. “Well, he might be coming up here too. After all, it is going to get warm at some point and there are things you can’t do in Aruba.”
“Like shop,” Desi came in on cue. “He has to go somewhere to shop. The man does know how to dress.”
“What about you?” I asked, immediately contrite. “What happened when I was away? Is Vincent okay?” The last I asked directly to Sybil. “What happened?”
Sybil blushed. She has that delicate peaches-and-cream complexion that shows every emotion and her embarrassment was a shade that a makeup artist would sell her soul to Satan to reproduce. “He talked to Nathan and Meph about what happened when he was kidnapped. He’s okay; they didn’t torture him at least. And Nathan played him some voice recordings and he could identify several of the voices, so we know for sure that Steve Balducci was one of them. Vincent also thinks that this operation was intended to make us and Meph and Operations look incompetent.”
“I thought they were trying to target Lily as one of Satan’s Chosen,” Eros said.
Sybil nodded emphatically. “They wanted Lily in particular because of her friendship with Meph. If Meph’s friends in Hell aren’t safe, then he appears weak and powerless.”
“So they’re sure that this is a move against Mephistopheles as Satan’s second in command,” Desi added.
