So I Married A Demon Slayer

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

  If only the demon slayer would leave her alone. Her mouth went dry as Damien trailed his fingers down her arm. Heat and raw energy radiated from his fingers. Was it a caress? Or a warning?

  His hazel eyes bit into her. “Napthulo is going down, Shiloh. Do you really want to cling to him?”

  Shiloh groaned. “It’s not that simple.” Not for someone who was bound, like her.

  She turned toward the window, to the rising sun over The Strip. The demon slayer actually seemed concerned whether or not she’d be hurt by the fall of Napthulo. It was strange. The demon certainly wouldn’t spare a thought for her.

  Yet there was more at stake than just her life. She might not mind seeing the demon go down, but she had friends inside that casino and she refused to hurt the few creatures who’d dared to care about her.

  “Work with me,” he insisted.

  She whirled to face him. “Why? Have you decided to kill me after all? Mr. Kill Things First and Ask Questions Later?”

  He threw up his hands. “I’m a demon slayer. What do you want me to do?”

  “For your information, there are other creatures in that casino that have done nothing to you.” There was Fawzi, who only wanted to protect her. Rufus, the sweetest hellhound who ever lived. Neither one of them would know what to do in hell, or wherever Damien sent them. “You’re talking like you have a right to just slay whoever you want.”

  He actually seemed surprised at that. Arrogant jerk. He stood so damned tall and resolute.

  It wasn’t right and it wasn’t fair and—

  “It’s happening, Shiloh,” he said, as if daring the very demons of hell to stop him. “Whether you want it to or not.”

  “Has anyone ever told you you’re an asshole?”

  “No,” he said, as if the very idea shocked him.

  Hades have mercy. She rubbed her eyes, trying to think.

  It wasn’t that she had problems with the idea of betraying the mighty Napthulo. Shiloh was half demon after all. Evil deeds came with the territory.

  If anything, the other demons would be impressed.

  And if news made it as high as Satan, the devil himself wouldn’t mind. He admired treachery.

  Maybe she could work out a compromise. “Okay, Saint Damien.”

  He scowled. “Don’t blaspheme.”

  She ignored him. “If you’re going to try to take out Napthulo . . .” She couldn’t stop it. She could only survive it. “If I help you, you have to get me and a few of my friends out. Unharmed.” Napthulo and the plastic demons could find another way out of hell as long as Fawzi and Rufus were safe.

  He leaned a shoulder against the wall by the window. “I can’t rescue demonic minions, Shiloh.” He didn’t even pretend to consider it. Which ticked her off.

  “You say that as if you didn’t sleep with a demonic minion. Hmmm . . . last night.”

  Desire crept over her as she remembered the way she’d backed him against the wall and taken him in her mouth. He sure hadn’t minded her then.

  “Shiloh,” he warned.

  Her body flushed and she let out a little moan as the desire washed over her. She needed a touch of comfort right now, some nice healthy lust.

  He looked stricken.

  In fact, she could go for a morning snack. Most of the time, she could go longer, but whatever had bound their powers seemed to have intensified her ardor. In fact, she was as hungry as if she’d gone days and days without.

  His gaze dropped to her chest. She felt it like a touch. Her nipples tightened almost to the point of pain as she strolled toward him, hips swaying. He watched her like a starving man.

  She brushed her breasts against his chest. “Let go.” She ran her tongue along his collarbone, his throat, that sensitive spot behind his ear.

  “Shiloh. We can’t.” His voice was hoarse now, uncertain.

  She rubbed against the length of him. He was hard as a rock. “Oh, I think you’re ready. And I’m certainly ready.”

  “No,” he said, breathing hard, eyes on the ceiling. “We can’t do that again. Ever.”

  But he didn’t push her away.

  “Say it,” she whispered in his ear.

  “What?” he croaked.

  “Say the word.” She ran her fingers down his chest, down to where his jeans were slung low on his hips. “Sex.” She teased him, her touch lingering where his jeans met flesh.

  He licked his lips. For the first time, she saw his carefully crafted wall crack. “I don’t need to say it. You know what I mean.”

  Amazing that this man, who had so much to give, held himself back so fiercely. “You’re too uptight to say it.”

  He looked her in the eye, struggling in a way she’d never understand. “Which is why it can’t happen again. Ever.”

  Wrong answer. “You should have thought of that before you let yourself get bonded to me. I need sex from you, Damien.” She dropped to her knees in front of him, flipping open his top button, then another. And another. “I can’t feed off anyone else.”

  “Feed?” He said it like the idea revolted him. “Get up.” He pushed off the wall, buttoning his jeans, stalking toward the other side of the room.

  Shiloh dropped her hands to the floor, aching with unspent lust. She had to be the only succubus who had such a hard time getting sex.

  Damien paced by the door, still hard as a rock. Why was he being so difficult?

  “You’re going to stop the seduction right now,” he ordered. “We have work to do.”

  If she didn’t get the demon slayer back into bed—soon—she was going to explode.

  He continued on as if she wasn’t about to throw herself at him again. She would if she thought she could get away with it.

  Damien pulled on a T-shirt. Then he selected a gray sweater out of the closet. He finished with a leather jacket.

  “Fine.” She slowly rose to her feet, so turned on it hurt to move. She’d never had a partnership. She wondered what it would be like to be an equal. “I’ll help you on one condition.”

  “Shiloh,” he warned.

  “Let me get my friends out. Fawzi is an ifrit that Napthulo won in a card game with Nostradamus.”

  Damien raised a brow.

  “Fawzi is harmless, a captive.” Like her. “And Rufus is a sweet little hellhound.” She stood her ground as he scrubbed a hand over his chin, frowning.

  He paused, shoulders stiff. “Agreed,” he finally said. “Partner with me and no harm will come to your friends.”

  Her stomach tingled with the weight of what she was willing to promise. She also felt a surge of power. It was a heady feeling to decide her own destiny, even though she’d just leapt headlong out of her predictable world.

  She rested a hand on her hip. “Well, demon slayer. It looks like we have a deal.”

  He laughed at that. “Yes, I suppose we do.” He studied her, the mirth fading from his eyes. “I’m not a man who compromises easily.”

  And she was one who had always compromised too much. “I like a challenge,” she teased. It felt new, exciting, to take a stand at last.

  He gave an exaggerated groan. “Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, you had to walk into mine.”

  “Yes, well, it’s not yours yet.” There was a mega demon to be dealt with first.

  “True,” he said, switching to business mode. He moved over to the silver suitcase, snapping the clasps closed. “We missed our window of opportunity last night, but I have my contacts trailing the demon. As soon as there’s another chance, we’ll jump on it.”

  She braced herself. “Napthulo is incredibly smart. We’ll have to move fast.”

  The sight of Damien next to the suitcase reminded her of a time not too long ago when he’d stood in that same spot, gloriously naked. Hades. He looked almost as good with his clothes on. Almost.

  Shiloh trailed her fingers down her gold dress. “I think it would help if we had sex.”

  Damien about choked. “No.”


  “Fine.” She pouted. “We’ll do it your way.”

  She’d lead a demon slayer into the inner sanctum. She’d take down her boss. She’d find a way to save her friends. And come hell or high water, she’d find a way to free Damien too.

  Chapter Four

  He should have just slayed her and saved his sanity. Instead he’d nearly taken her. Again.

  Damien leaned his head against the back wall of the slowest moving elevator in Vegas.

  “Do you want to wear my coat?” he asked.

  She fiddled with the gold chain around her neck. “I’m already dressed.”

  It didn’t count. Her gold dress clung to every curve. He remembered what those curves had felt like under him last night. And above him. And . . . he felt himself grow hard. Damnation.

  The door dinged open in the lobby. “Come on,” he said as he launched himself off the wall. “We’ll get you a ride home,” he added, trying not to cringe.

  So this was it. Damien, who had slayed countless minions of the devil was about to send a demon home in a taxi.

  Heaven help him, it almost felt like a victory.

  She tilted her head. “Do you realize that when you run your hand through your hair like that, it makes it stick up on end? You look like Matthew McConaughey.”

  He led her through the lobby of the hotel. “I have no idea who that is,” he said, trying to focus on the clanging slot machines, the milling tourists, anything but her.

  When they reached the cab stand outside, he relented. “I’ll call you when it’s time to go back in. In the mean-time—” he stared at her from her pink painted toes to her mane of unruly blond waves. She was a walking wet dream. “Act casual. Tempt the masses.”

  She cocked her head. “You think that’s what I do?”

  Truthfully, he had no idea. He fought back a wave of jealousy. She’d gotten under his skin easy enough.

  He dug through his wallet for cab fare, cursing himself for his weakness. He didn’t want her seducing anyone else. He wanted her attention.

  This was so screwed up.

  At long last, he tucked her into an aquamarine Gossamer Cab and watched her drive away.

  Shiloh did not look back.

  It shouldn’t have bothered him, he told himself. She had her head on straight, at least for the moment.

  He made his way to the elevator bank.

  Damien was still stewing as he shoved his card into the door slot of his hotel room. He just had to work with this woman until he could take down her boss. Then he’d let her go.

  Damien frowned as the hotel room door clicked closed behind him. He surveyed the room. Hell. The tousled sheets, the wedding pictures scattered across the room, the damned pink bear—it reminded him of her.

  He’d box it all up. Or toss it in the bathtub. He should have just thrown it all away.

  But he didn’t.

  Instead, he called Father Riley. “The annulment’s off,” he barked into his cell phone while opening his silver suitcase.

  His switch stars were laid out in neat rows, cushioned in foam core.

  He could hear the old priest chuckling on the other line. “Who’s still married, son?”

  Damien didn’t want to have this conversation. “You wouldn’t believe it if I told you.”

  “I don’t know,” the priest said in that frustratingly even tone of his. “I’ve seen some strange things in my day.”

  Time to change the subject. “My mission was a bust last night,” Damien said, double-checking his switch star holster. It held five stars. The rest, he’d have to take in a backpack and hope security didn’t search it. “I’m going back in.”

  The Council would contact him. When another opportunity arose, he’d be ready.

  “Did you let her go?” the priest asked.

  “Who?”

  “You know who.”

  Damien gritted his teeth. Would it be rude to hang up on a priest? “I’ve got bigger problems.”

  Like what to do about a certain half-demon. He’d trapped Shiloh. She had to help him.

  Damien tugged his sweater down, remembering the way she’d run her fingers along his chest. He sighed and shoved the thought out of his mind. As long as she didn’t take him down, this might just work.

  Shiloh sat at a patio table outside Starbucks and blasted a young hunk with a bolt of lust. He kept walking. She dug her elbows into the table, crunched her fists under her chin and willed him to turn around. Look back. Feel me.

  Nada.

  She sighed, glancing at her cold cafe misto. It had been two days since her quickie wedding. She needed to stop torturing herself. Her powers were tied up with Damien’s. There was no getting them back, not until she gave the demon slayer what he wanted.

  For all of her thousands of years on this earth, she wished she had an easier time with change. Frankly, she felt like a big scaredy cat most of the time. Dealing with full-blooded demons did that to a girl.

  Now she was on call, waiting to meet up with Damien at The Seven Deadly Sins. They’d rendezvous in one of the theme rooms. She was rooting for Lust.

  Never mind that Damien would still insist that he wanted her only for her access code. But she knew better. Shiloh had a few millennia’s experience with men. She saw how he responded to her. And she found that fascinating.

  As if thinking could make wishes come true, her phone buzzed. She dug it out of her purse. “Damien?”

  “Don’t use my name,” he said, his voice low and sexy.

  Oh please. “But it is you. I knew it was you.” A niggle of unease touched her stomach. She didn’t know how she knew. Perhaps their powers were more entwined than she’d realized.

  “We have another opportunity. Meet me at your work. I’ll request you.”

  That last part warmed her heart. He’d ask for her.

  She snapped the phone closed. Of course he’d ask for her, she chastised herself. He needed her to break into Napthulo’s inner sanctum. Still, it made her slightly breathless to know she’d see Damien soon.

  Shiloh’s heels clicked as she made her way down a long hallway at the back of The Seven Deadly Sins Casino.

  Now that she was here, her excitement had been replaced with something else—the dripping fear that she was about to end her life as she knew it. She pasted a smile on her face.

  Breathe.

  Walk.

  Act casual.

  She was so deep in thought that she jumped as she pushed through the human-repelling energy shield.

  Zap.

  The static electric shock zinged her to her toes and reminded her to stay focused. She might not be trained like Damien, but she could keep her wits about her. This wasn’t a game. Lives were at stake, namely hers, Fawzi’s, Rufus’s—even Damien’s. Although she doubted the demon slayer would admit it.

  Rufus the hellhound danced and barked at her approach and she gave him an extra long hug. He used it as an opportunity to lick her silly. “I’ve got you, hound doggie,” she said, feeling the familiar comfort of his wiry fur against her skin.

  She’d save him.

  Shiloh gave the hellhound a final pat. He whined as she turned the corner toward the She-Demons assignment desk.

  Jeebers the fairy raised his tiny little eyebrows at her as she approached. He adjusted his reading glasses. “Fine for you to show your face around here again.”

  Shiloh waved him off. “I was sick,” she said, both of them knowing full well that succubi didn’t get sick. She gave him her best pouty look. “I think I’ll feel better if you put me back in Lust.”

  It was a long shot, she knew. But perhaps the case of Fitz’s Root Beer had already arrived.

  He scowled, dashing any hope of that. “I’m not putting you in Lust again. You ran off halfway through your shift.”

  “The client wanted to get out and enjoy Vegas,” she said, pretending not to know she’d violated about twelve casino rules.

  The fairy looked down his glasses at her. “And then I got dru
nk calls at four in the morning. Please tell me you didn’t actually set sail a hundred tiny paper pirate ships in the Venetian Grand Canal.”

  Oh no. Shiloh’s stomach sank. “What else did you hear?” Her secret might already be out.

  “Isn’t that enough?” the fairy snapped. He jabbed at the computer keyboard in front of him. “If it’s any consolation, you didn’t completely ruin your chances with our newest client. He’s requested you again, for whatever room you’re in.”

  He said it as if he knew something.

  Shiloh kept her face a blank slate. “Have you completed the background check on him?”

  “No.” The fairy kept typing. “Too tired from annoying phone calls.”

  Thank goodness. Damien’s identity was safe. For now.

  “Succubus number 14, I have you in Sloth tonight,” he said, daring her to protest.

  “Of course.” Massaging men’s temples. At least they would be Damien’s temples.

  “Fawzi’s looking for you,” he said, handing her the assignment slip.

  Big surprise. The ifrit was probably going crazy. And now she had to convince him to hang out in Sloth and betray their boss. Good thing she had an idea.

  Chapter Five

  Damien rolled over in a massive beanbag chair in order to get a better view of Wife Swap. He used his arm as a pillow and fought back a yawn. Not that the television show was boring. It was an interesting bit of reality, far more addicting than he would have imagined an hour ago. No, the yawn was for the fact that he could already feel his body turning to mush.

  Damien sank farther into the chair.

  He was in Sloth, the least sexy room he could imagine. Therefore, it was the perfect place for his next run-in with Shiloh. He didn’t want to think about kissing her, touching her, or the way her hands felt when she wrapped them around his shoulders.

  Stop thinking about it.

  Yeah right.

  He fought his beanbag chair for a better position. His night in Lust had only been the most incredible night of his life. And that was the part he could remember.