So I Married A Demon Slayer

by Love, Kathy; Fox, Angie; George, Lexi

  She smiled at him, the gesture tremulous and lovely, and again he was stunned she could be so sexy, yet so innocent as well. The combination was powerful, heady—like the lure of a particularly mouth-watering scent or the captivating melody of a beautiful song. He was so drawn to her. To every part of her. Her beauty. Her sweetness. Her emotions. Her laughter. Her thoughts. Everything about her aroused him to the point that it was almost painful.

  As if reading his mind, she moved her gaze down his body to the center of his aching need. Her gaze was like a physical touch, but only a brush, a tease. He needed more than that.

  He peeled off his jacket, tossing it onto his bureau. Then he quickly undid the buttons of his shirt and shrugged it off.

  Ava rose from the bed then, coming to him, pressing her hands to his bare chest. Slowly she ran them over him, downward across his nipples, over his ribs, down his stomach to the waistband of his pants.

  Her delicate fingers paused there, toying with the button at the top of his waistband. She smiled at him, the gesture sweet and very naughty at the same time.

  He groaned. “Planning to torture me, huh?”

  She leaned forward and lightly bit one of his nipples. He gasped, fiery sensation shooting from the spot where her teeth connected with skin, straight to his loins. His cock leapt, pulsing. Hard, needy.

  She smiled, the curl of her lips erotic torture against his heated skin.

  “I seem to recall you making me suffer a little before giving me what I wanted,” she murmured.

  “Yes, I did,” he said, unrepentant.

  She laughed, the sound sending hot shivers down his spine. “Well, now it’s my turn.”

  She kissed him then, a sweet lingering kiss, but after a few moments, her lips left his to press to his collarbone, his chest, to each of his nipples. She teased the hard tiny peaks with her teeth and tongue for a few moments, then continued downward.

  Soon she knelt before him, her hands on his hips, her mouth tracing a hot, moist path over his stomach, her tongue dipping into his navel, before her lips stopped at the top of his waistband.

  He could feel her warm breath brushing the fine hair around and below his navel. Her fingers curling into his hips, gripping him with her own longing, her own desire.

  She released him, moving to the button of his pants, then the zipper. His cock jumped under the slight brush of her fingers as she worked. She smiled and his cock leapt again, reacting to every part of her. Just like it always did. Just like he knew it always would.

  Carefully she eased his pants down. Charlie fidgeted for a moment, toeing off his shoes, then she removed the pants from around his ankles. Her fingers returned to his boxers, now working them down his body. The waistband snagged just for a second on his erection, causing them both to laugh, but as soon as he stood before her naked, her laughter died away, replaced by unbridled yearning.

  Almost reverently she brushed a finger down the length of him, teasing the sensitive underside of his cock. She did it again, seemingly bemused by his reaction to even her most feathery touch.

  Then he watched, entranced as she lowered her head and mimicked the caress of her finger with the tip of her tongue. He groaned, his hand coming out to tangle in her hair, as his own head fell back and his eyes closed. She could practically bring him to his knees with a single fleeting lick.

  But he didn’t have time to ponder her power, because he was soon overwhelmed. Her hand moved to hold him, her fingers curling around his girth, her other hand testing the weight and texture of his testicles. That alone was pure bliss, then her hot little mouth came down to surround him. Lick him, suckle him, swirl around the sensitive head in whirls of delicious torture.

  She continued to pleasure him with her hands, with her wicked mouth, until he was right on the precipice of release. He didn’t want to come that way. Not when he could be buried deep inside her, a part of her body in the most primal way a man could be a part of a woman. Nothing else would do.

  He caught her under the arms, easing her up to her feet.

  She smiled at him, her lips glistening. “You didn’t like that?”

  “Oh, you know full well I loved it.”

  Her expression took on that innocence again, the vixen of moments before vanishing. “Did you really?”

  He laughed, amazed she could have any doubts. He kissed her, tasting hints of himself mixed with her own flavor. Possessiveness filled him, pulling him taut with the need to claim her, make her his.

  He found the zipper at the back of her dress, pulling it down. Then he helped her glide the fluttery fabric down the subtle curve of her body until she could step out of it. She stood before him in just a strapless bra the golden color of her skin and a matching set of panties. And her very high, strappy, gold heels.

  “I’m going to remember this look forever,” he whispered.

  She smiled, but Charlie could see a hint of sorrow in her eyes. He kissed her, not allowing her sad thoughts to take hold.

  Then he eased her back toward the bed until he had her lowered underneath him. They kissed for a long time, basking in the wonderful sensations of skin against skin, but eventually that wasn’t enough. He pushed off her panties, her own impatient fingers helping him. Then he was touching the very core of her. His finger dipping inside her tight wetness, his thumb rubbing her clitoris in rough little circles until it pulsed and quivered under him, until she cried out with delight again and again.

  Only then did he slide inside her, stretching her, making her take every inch of him. He made love to her, long and hard, making sure that she was aware of nothing but him and the friction of where they were joined. Finally, after her voice was hoarse from her cries and her body shook, drained by the strength of her orgasms, only then did he allow himself to come, his own orgasm so powerful his muscles seized with the power of it, only to turn to trembling jelly as exhaustion overcame him.

  But before they both drifted off into satisfied sleep, he pulled her tight against him, his arm anchored around her narrow waist.

  “Please don’t just leave this time.”

  She shook her head, brushing a lock of hair from his cheek. “I won’t. I promise.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “So you are going to stay here, right?”

  Ava nodded at Charlie, even though she knew she shouldn’t stay. She just couldn’t bring herself to leave the haven of Charlie’s small apartment. She felt safe here, which was an illusion of course, but she wasn’t willing to give up the fantasy. Not quite yet.

  “I would call in sick, but I can’t today.” He didn’t add why he couldn’t, but they both knew he wasn’t about to miss his appointment with Carrie Hall. And they also both knew he wasn’t going to be talked out of it, so there wasn’t much of a point in even mentioning it.

  During the early morning hours after they’d just made slow gentle love to each other, Ava considered telling him the truth. Several times it was on the tip of her tongue to simply say, “Finola White is a demon. And going to work for HOT! is not like making a pact with the devil. It is making a pact with the devil.”

  But in the end, she kept silent. Charlie wouldn’t believe her. In fact, he would probably just think she was mad. After all, wouldn’t she, if she didn’t know the truth firsthand?

  So all Ava could do was hope the interview didn’t go well. Not that she had much expectation of that either. Now that she realized all the photos hanging on Charlie’s walls were taken by him, she knew he was incredibly talented. And with Finola’s wicked help, he could become the most renowned photographer in the world.

  But at what cost?

  “Okay, I’ll be home a little late. But don’t leave. Maybe we can even go out and celebrate.” Again he didn’t say what they’d be celebrating.

  She nodded. “I will be here.”

  Charlie gave her a lingering kiss so sweet and lovely, her eyes misted.

  When he pulled away and saw her tears, he frowned. “Please be happy. This is a good t
hing.”

  She nodded, even thought she knew better.

  After he left, she curled up on his bed, wondering if she should follow, but she really didn’t believe she could stop him. No one could have stopped her.

  Charlie still didn’t understand what had Ava so upset. Okay, so Finola White was a control freak; he could deal with that. This was the perfect solution to their problems, at least as far as he could see.

  A bell jingled on the door of the photo lab as he entered to pick up his prints.

  “Hey Charlie,” his friend Lou called to him from behind the counter, but his greeting didn’t sound as chipper as it normally did. Right away, worry filled him.

  “Hi. Are the prints ready?”

  His friend nodded. “They are, but I’ve got to tell you, some of them turned out pretty strange. There’s some crazy light flare in several of them, and I can’t figure out what it’s from. I checked your media card, and the flare isn’t there when I view them on the computer. But when I print them, it appears. And I know it’s not the processing, because I redid them a couple times.”

  Charlie frowned. “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “No, it doesn’t. But on the upside, the pictures you took at Bryant Park turned out very cool. That was one crazy and creepy photo shoot.”

  Charlie nodded, but he wasn’t sure what his friend was referring to exactly. The Bryant Park shoot was just models dressed in different rainwear. And though they did create a pretty cool sprinkler system for the rain shots, it wasn’t as amazing as Lou made it sound. And creepy? He didn’t get that comment at all.

  Since Charlie was running late for work, he didn’t look at the pictures, figuring he’d get them sorted out and see what was usable during his lunch break. In fact, when he got to work, he was on the go nonstop. He didn’t even have time to locate and thank Eugene for putting in a good word for him with Carrie. He’d actually wanted to ask why he had, since Eugene had clearly been irritated with him over the past couple weeks.

  Charlie grinned to himself at lunchtime as he headed to his locker to grab the pictures and finally sit down and look them over. This was probably Eugene’s way of getting rid of him since Charlie clearly didn’t take his mailroom duties seriously enough.

  Charlie’s smile faded as he opened his locker and saw that the bag with his prints was not leaning against the inside wall of the locker where he’d left it.

  He pulled out his jacket, his backpack. It wasn’t somehow stuck in his coat. And he hadn’t placed it in his backpack. He even opened the lockers on either side of his own. The prints weren’t there. They were simply gone.

  He looked at his watch. He didn’t have enough time to take the media card back to Lou and have him print more.

  What the hell was he going to do? And where could the prints have gone? He knew exactly where he’d placed them, so someone must have taken them. But why?

  The rest of the day went by rather quickly. Charlie still didn’t see Eugene, who might have taken the photos. After all, he’d clearly had no qualms about going into Charlie’s locker to look at his portfolio.

  But his portfolio was still there. Why take what was for the most part nothing more than snapshots?

  Unless someone wasn’t happy about his taking pictures of HOT! staff. Maybe he’d been right to be worried about that yesterday.

  Oh well. He was going to have to hope Carrie would be impressed with the rest of his portfolio.

  At about half past six, Charlie boarded the elevator, his nerves getting the better of him. What if this didn’t work out? He’d dreamed of a photography job like this forever. And now he had his relationship with Ava riding on his success too. He found it hard to believe Finola would make her life difficult if they were both working for her.

  He managed a smile for Ashley, who didn’t comment on the fact he didn’t have an envelope with him tonight. Once he reached Carrie’s door, he stopped, willing himself to calm down. He could only do what he could do.

  He knocked and Carrie immediately answered.

  “We’ve been waiting.”

  We? Charlie entered the office to see Eugene standing by Carrie’s desk. What was he doing here? But then Charlie decided maybe it made sense since the man had recommended him. Yeah, maybe that made sense, but Charlie wasn’t convinced. Nor did it make sense that Carrie locked her office door. But Charlie remained calm, walking farther into the room. Then he noticed his prints spread out all over Carrie’s light table.

  “Where did you find these?” He walked over to the table, looking at the photos he hadn’t even seen yet. Lou had been right, the ones of Ava, which Charlie hadn’t been sure he was going to share, had strange yellow light flares appearing all around her sleeping form.

  Just like the yellow auras he’d seen around several of the employees up here. Then his attention moved to the Bryant Park photos. He leaned closer, not sure what he was actually seeing.

  Then he quickly backed away. Many of the models looked the way the daytime receptionist looked. Like their beautiful model faces had morphed to reveal hideous distorted features.

  “You’ve seen all the things you captured here before, haven’t you?” Carrie said, coming to stand beside him. She picked up several of the pictures, studying them closely.

  “No—I—where did you get these?” Charlie demanded again. “What do you want?”

  Carrie smiled at him, her expression the same as always, affable, intelligent. Eugene looked the same too.

  “You have a talent, Charlie. One we really need.”

  “What talent is that?”

  Carrie held up one of the pictures of Ava. “Did you see that when you shot this picture?”

  Charlie shook his head.

  “Do you ever just see things like this without the aid of your camera?” Carrie asked.

  Charlie hesitated. “I have. But only here on this floor.”

  “Well, that certainly makes sense,” Eugene said, and Carrie nodded.

  “What the hell is going on?” Charlie demanded.

  “I’m about to tell you something you aren’t going to believe. Or at least, you will have trouble believing it, but I want you to keep an open mind, because we need your help.” Carrie’s voice was calm and very reasonable.

  He waited for her to continue.

  “HOT! magazine—all of Finola White Enterprises—is run by demons.” She spoke in a hushed tone, so hushed he had to move closer to her to hear, and even then he was certain he couldn’t have heard her correctly.

  “Demons?”

  Carrie nodded, her lips pursed into a grim line.

  “Demons in the figurative sense, right?” Charlie said.

  “No,” Eugene said, his voice very serious. “In the very literal, very dangerous sense.”

  Charlie’s gaze flicked back and forth between the two of them. They were crazy, certifiably so. They had to be. Demons. Demons?

  “We need you, because you can see them. You can also see the humans who have sold their souls. They are the ones with the yellow light around them.”

  Humans who sold their souls.

  Charlie started to open his mouth to tell them they were utterly insane, but Ava’s comment suddenly echoed in his head. The comment about selling his soul. Did Ava believe this nonsense too?

  If she did, she didn’t want him to be a part of it. She’d practically begged him to not pursue this. Yet she had said similar things.

  “I know this is very hard to believe,” Eugene said.

  “Just a tad,” Charlie said wryly.

  “We are trying to stop them. Demons are running the whole fashion industry, and it’s only a matter of time before they spread to other industries,” Carrie said, her tone just as serious as Eugene’s.

  “And you”—he turned to Carrie, “and you and the mailroom”—he said to Eugene—“are the ones designated to stop this takeover.”

  Both nodded and then, to his surprise, pulled out government ID badges. Carrie had hers tucked i
nto the inside of the waistband of her trousers, while Eugene had his in an inside pocket of his jacket.

  Charlie scanned the badges closely, seeing both of them were listed as belonging to a branch of the NSA.

  “That’s great,” Charlie said. “But how would I know if they are real or not? My fake driver’s license looked legit too and I was only sixteen.”

  “You are right,” Carrie agreed. “But what would be the point of this, if they aren’t real? You know what you’ve seen with your very own eyes. These pictures are just more proof.”

  Eugene nodded. “What would be in this for us?”

  Charlie couldn’t think of a thing. And if the mailroom was a cover for a government operation, that certainly explained the intensity of the place.

  “So who are the demons?” he asked, amazed he was even entertaining their story.

  “Finola for certain. She is, of course, the head demon.”

  “Of course,” Charlie said, still not sure what to make of all this.

  “And Tristan is very likely one. He’s definitely her right-hand man,” Carrie said. “But that is why we need you. You have a gift. You can see them. And you can see the humans who—”

  “Sold their souls,” he finished for her. “I got it.”

  He considered what they were telling him. “Was I hired because of this?”

  Eugene nodded. “Yes.”

  “But how did you know I had this ability?” Charlie asked.

  “You can see demons and those bonded to the demons; I can see special abilities in humans,” Eugene explained.

  “So everyone in the mailroom has special abilities?”

  Eugene shook his head. “No, some are straightforward military, installed here in case things get violent. Others are computer experts, hackers. Actually very few have any psychic abilities, if you will.”

  This was amazing. Just . . . amazing.

  Charlie walked over to the pictures, picking up one of beautiful Ava sleeping. “So Ava has sold her soul?”