No Angel

by Vivi Andrews

  They strained against one another, pushing toward a place beyond good and evil, a place where angels and demons and humans didn’t exist, where the only thing that mattered was the twining of two souls.

  Almost there. She gasped his name, a broken prayer.

  They broke through together and Sasha shattered under the force of the shared climax, the sight of Jay’s face above hers the only thing keeping her on the mortal plane at all.

  His weight pressed her into the earth and every physical sensation was magnified a thousand times as the continuing shocks of her orgasm gradually quieted. Sasha wrapped her arms around his shoulders, holding on to the bone-deep pleasure as long as she could. Jay pressed his forehead to hers and whispered, “Thank you,” but she wasn’t sure whether he was thanking her or God for allowing them this last time together, for allowing them to find one another.

  She would never know. The sun crested the horizon and the first light of day struck him.

  His back arched, every muscle going rigid as his mouth opened in a silent scream.

  Sasha held on as tightly as she could as the light pierced his skin, trying to pour every shred of goodness she’d ever possessed into him. Please, don’t take him. Please. It was like holding a live firework, but she didn’t loosen her hold. If there was any chance her arms could hold him on the mortal plane, she would never let go. She squeezed her eyes shut against the blinding light, concentrating on the feel of him, wanting to memorize the exact texture of his skin.

  Jay gave a low, rasping gasp—the only sound he’d made since the light touched him—and collapsed onto her. Sasha dared to open her eyes and found the light had faded.

  And Jay was still there. In her arms.

  A giddy high surged through her, but her first question was tentative. “It worked?”

  He groaned, dragging himself up on to one elbow like his body suddenly weighed nine hundred pounds. “Not something I’d like to go through every day, but yeah, I think it worked.”

  “How do you feel?”

  “Definitely different.” He shifted, groaning again. “Pretty crappy, to be honest.” He looked down at her, his eyes slowly widening as realization set in. “I think that’ll pass.” A slow smile spread across his face. “Hi.”

  Sasha felt an answering smile curve her lips, helpless to stop it even if she had wanted to. “Hi back.”

  “So—” he shifted again, settling himself in the cradle of her legs, “—looks like you’re stuck with me.”

  Her cheeks were starting to ache, but Sasha couldn’t stop smiling. “It would appear that way.” She looped her arms lazily around his shoulders, linking her fingers behind his neck. The world blurred, but she wasn’t crying. Tough girls didn’t cry. Not even from uncontainable joy.

  “You still want me now that I’ve lost all my sexy demonic powers?”

  Sasha grinned wickedly, rolling her body sinuously beneath his. “I’m sure I’ll find some use for this boring almost-human body of yours.”

  “Boring?” he growled, his shoulders looming over her. “I’ll show you boring.”

  He tipped onto his back, rolling with her and Sasha gave a laugh that broke into a ragged sigh. “Show me Heaven, Jay.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Mistletoe Merry-Go-Round

  Sasha ducked out onto the patio, hoping she’d cleared the door before her mother saw the direction of her escape. After a sleepless night shooting her way through Hell, Sasha didn’t have the stamina for yet another conversation about how delighted her mother was that Jay wasn’t deformed after all and wouldn’t he make lovely grandbabies.

  A strong arm slipped around her waist and she felt her tension melt away. Jay pulled her back against his chest, facing them both toward the landscaped perfection of her mother’s Japanese garden. Sasha leaned back into him, enjoying the warmth of his body supporting hers.

  “I think your great-aunt Margie has been hitting the eggnog. She just called Debbie Reynolds a talentless hack and is now doing a time step on top of a coffee table that probably costs more than your apartment.”

  Sasha snorted out a laugh. “She’s still pissed about being passed over for the lead in Singin’ in the Rain. You’ll get to see an eighty-nine-year-old woman performing ‘Dream of You’ as a striptease by the end of the night if my mom can’t wrestle her ‘special Christmas punch’ away from her.”

  “Is that what’s in her flask? I might wrestle it away from her myself. I could use a shot or two.”

  “I wouldn’t recommend it. Unless you like drinking hot pink lighter fluid. It’s her special recipe, which translates as mildly toxic. Just don’t pour it on the plants on the patio. My cousin Elaine tried that last year when it was her turn to cut Aunt Margie off. It decimated the hydrangeas and the landscaper quit in protest.”

  “Did you know your dad is taking bets on who will be the first to fall into the pool?”

  “Mmm, good money’s always on Aunt Margie, but don’t discount the cousins. Eileen caught Evelyn with her boyfriend under the mistletoe two Christmases ago. There was much hair-pulling and screeching and we had to declare two winners for the Pool Pool that year because no one could tell which one of them hit the water first.”

  “Why did I want to be mortal again?”

  Sasha twisted in his arms. “Because you’re crazy about me.” She went on tiptoe and popped a kiss on to his mouth. “And part of being crazy about me is putting up with my family’s holiday rituals. Welcome to the human race.”

  She tucked her hands into the back pockets of his snug blue jeans and admired the way the soft red sweater hugged his shoulders.

  “Just stay away from the mistletoe if you don’t want to be molested by my female relatives. You look really hot in red.”

  From the look that crossed his face, her warning came too late. Jay started to reply and Sasha held up her hand to stop him.

  “I feel I should warn you that all bitching about my family for the next fifty years is going to be met with a reminder that your mother is literally from Hell.”

  He grinned. “Fifty years?”

  Sasha shrugged. “Give or take. I saved your ass from eternal damnation. I figure you owe me a lifetime of devotion.”

  “That sounds fair. Just remember I did some saving of my own.”

  “For which you will be richly rewarded.” Sasha wagged her eyebrows and grinned lecherously. “Just as soon as we get home tonight.”

  He bent his head, nuzzling her neck just below her ear. “Can I get a preview?”

  “Maybe a thirty-second teaser.” She leaned into the kiss, quickly forgetting her own thirty-second time limit.

  “Sasha, there you are! Stop mauling that nice boy and come inside. Dinner’s ready.” Sasha and Jay broke apart guiltily as the sound of her mother’s heels clacking loudly on the patio tiles retreated, an eerie echo of Jezebeth’s kitten heels.

  All day the strangest things had been reminding her of the Underworld. She’d probably never be able to enter her kitchen without remembering Jay being yanked into a vortex or having her grandfather announce she was going to Hell—but she didn’t want to forget. She’d found herself in Hell. A version of herself that wasn’t dependent on her mother’s fame or anyone else’s approval. Somewhere in the depths of Hell, she’d stopped seeing herself as someone who didn’t quite fit the role she’d been cast. No longer the reluctant good girl. No more secret snark.

  Sasha couldn’t regret a single second of it.

  Her silver charm bracelet caught on Jay’s sweater as she obediently removed her hands from his person. The small, silver-wrapped package holding it had been perched on her cutting board that morning. There’d been no card, but the swirl on the paper was the exact shape the markings on the Desert Eagles had been.

  It was delicate, each charm beautifully crafted. An angel—complete with halo—a gun, the linked drama and comedy masks, a film reel and a tiny pitchfork. Now, as she untangled her wrist from Jay’s sweater, the pitchfork tangled
in the angel’s halo and she smiled.

  Sasha tucked her hand into Jay’s as they started slowly back toward the holiday chaos inside. “My family adores you.”

  “They don’t know I’m a demon yet.”

  “Former demon. I thought I’d save that little bombshell for the next holiday gathering. Easter maybe.”

  “Sasha.”

  She made a face at the reproach in his voice. “We’ll tell them. When the time is right we’ll tell them about your lineage and me going into Hell—though I might skim some of the details there. But I have to tell them soon. My mother in particular deserves to know the truth about her very own guardian angel.”

  “He’s your guardian angel too.”

  “What would I need a guardian angel for?” She grinned up at him. “I’ve got my very own guardian devil.”

  They stepped through the doorway into the dining room and paused to take in the feast that made the tables groan under its weight. Her mother’s chef had outdone himself.

  “Sasha! Jay!” Layla Christian bounced on the balls of her feet and clapped her hands excitedly. “You’re under the mistletoe!”

  This from the woman who demanded I stop mauling him. Sasha rolled her eyes, leaned up and pecked Jay somewhere in the vicinity of his jaw, hoping that would be the end of it.

  “Oh, please! That isn’t a kiss,” Great-Aunt Margie barked. “I’ll show you a kiss.”

  As she bore down on them with a distinctly unwholesome gleam in her eye, Jay quickly pulled Sasha against his chest and bent her over his arm. Sasha gasped softly and his mouth came down to rest over her parted lips. “Save me,” he whispered.

  When he put it like that… What the hell? She’d blame it on the mistletoe.

  About the Author

  Vivi Andrews was born and raised in Alaska, and she still lives in the Last Frontier when she isn’t bouncing around the globe. After graduating from Northwestern University, Vivi tested out a variety of careers—from the movie industry to accounting—but kept coming back to her first two loves, writing and travel. She lived in nine cities—on two continents and one tropical island—while pursuing her dream of writing romance professionally.

  In 2009, Vivi won the Golden Heart Award, presented by the Romance Writers of America, and her debut novella, “The Ghost Shrink, the Accidental Gigolo & the Poltergeist Accountant,” hit the digital shelves. Within two years, she wrote and released eight paranormal romances, including the bestselling Serengeti Shifter series and critically-lauded Karmic Consultants books.

  Vivi is currently hard at work on her next happily-ever-after. For more about her books or the life of a nomadic romance author, please visit her blog, Ramblings from the Road, at http://viviandrews.blogspot.com or stop by her website at www.viviandrews.com/.

  Where no great story goes untold.

  The variety you want to read, the stories authors have always wanted to write.

  With new releases every week, your next great read is just a download away!

  Keep in touch with Carina Press:

  Read our blog: www.CarinaPress.com/blog

  Follow us on Twitter: www.twitter.com/CarinaPress

  Become a fan on Facebook: www.facebook.com/CarinaPress

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-9090-1

  Copyright © 2010 by Vivi Andrews

  All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  ® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

  www.CarinaPress.com