“You’re bluffing,” the Enemy said.
“It’s the best hand I’ve had all night,” Belial lied.
“I was talking about the woman.” The Enemy spoke with a certainty that couldn’t be gainsaid. “You haven’t bedded her yet, and I don’t think you will.”
Belial’s lie was exposed. Satan threw him a scorching look. Bad smirked.
The Enemy laid down his cards. His royal straight beat the pants off Belial’s two of a kind. The Enemy raked in all the chips.
Nana looked Dara over with a worried eye. “You look tuckered out.”
“I’m still a little under the weather.” In truth, Dara felt fine, other than some fatigue from three days of constant nursing followed by a night of very little sleep.
“Your face is a little flushed.” Nana sounded pleased. “The Lord probably sent you this illness to keep you out of the way of that demon.”
If that was how things worked, the Lord must want Dara to spend a lot of time with the demon. She picked up Nana’s Bible from the nightstand and set it back down again. “He apologized to me.”
Nana squinted up at her. “What?”
“The demon—he said he was sorry.”
Nana’s jaw dropped, exposing a white row of dentures. “For what?”
Dara couldn’t very well tell Nana he’d apologized for helping her get so drunk she’d vomited on his shoes. She wandered over to Nana’s dresser and straightened the edge of the crocheted doily that covered it. “I don’t remember, something trivial, but he said it.”
When had she begun lying to her grandmother so easily? After the demon came into her life.
“You must have heard wrong.”
“He said it twice.” He’d also said thank you numerous times over the past few days, another phrase she’d been led to believe was outside a demon’s lexicon.
“He didn’t mean it.”
“I thought demons were unable to voice apologies?”
Nana gnawed on her lip and thought about that. After a moment, she nodded. “That’s what your granddaddy always said, and I for certain never heard one speak regret.”
Dara had hoped Nana would have some idea of what it meant, but it was clear she was mystified, too. If she wanted Nana’s help, Dara would have to tell her more.
“And he got sick.”
“Sick?” Nana rubbed her chin. “Sick how?”
“He caught chickenpox from a little boy at the clinic.”
“Chickenpox?” Nana’s eyes flashed to her face. “And you nursed him back to health, didn’t you? That’s where you been these past three days.”
Why had Dara thought she would get away with this? She never had gotten away with anything as a teenager. “What was I supposed to do? Let him die?”
“Demons are immortal,” Nana said. “Even if his body died, he would have just gone back to Hell and gotten another one.”
But I like this one.
“I couldn’t do it, Nana. I’m a nurse. Nurses don’t just let people die.”
“He’s not a person.” Nana’s open palm smacked the arm of her recliner. “He’s a demon who is out to do you harm.”
“I know that.” Dara’s shoulders drooped. Nana took the dream world she’d inhabited over the past three days and exposed it to harsh sunlight, where its falseness became all too apparent.
“I expect he made an awful patient.”
“He didn’t, though. That’s what I wanted to ask you about. He was the best patient I’ve ever had—polite, grateful, did whatever I asked.” She didn’t mention that one of the things she’d asked him to do was strip off his clothes and soak in her bathtub. “He was”—Dara searched for a word—”angelic.”
Nana frowned for a moment, pulling on her lower lip. Then she nodded. “Well, that is how he started out. Before he fell.”
The image of his scarred shoulder blades flashed before Dara. Pity welled for her poor fallen angel. The last three days had shown what he could have been. If he’d been an ordinary man—what would it be like to spend her days in such a man’s company, her nights in his bed?
“You need to get yourself married again,” said Nana.
That pulled Dara out of her fantasy. “What?”
“Saint Paul said it. ‘Tis better to marry than to burn.’“
Her cheeks flamed.
“And you’re burning for that demon,” Nana said. Dara tried to deny it, but Nana didn’t stop. “That’s why you’re so flushed; that’s why you’re so restless; that’s why you come in here and tried to lie to me like you haven’t done since you was sixteen years old.”
Dara’s head dropped forward, her face hot with shame.
“It’s all right, girl. I saw that demon when you brought him in here that day. No woman could be expected to resist that, not when he’s after you and after you and won’t let up.”
Tears burned beneath Dara’s eyelids. She sat down on the floor and leaned her head against Nana’s knees. Nana stroked her hair.
Dara looked up, her vision clouded by tears. “What am I going to do?”
The old woman cradled her cheek, wiping a tear away with gentle fingers. “Pray, child. That’s all you can do. Pray.”
Dara nodded, but inside she was in despair. Nana had named the one thing she couldn’t do.
Chapter 36
After the poker game ended and the others left, Satan parked his skinny butt on the edge of the poker table and motioned Belial to stay behind.
“So you haven’t actually seduced the woman?” His voice was like acid.
Belial wasn’t about to fall into the trap of defending himself for lying. Given similar circumstances, any demon would have done the same.
“Close enough,” he said.
“Unless your cock was inside her, it wasn’t close enough.”
Belial didn’t respond or look away.
After a few minutes of locked stares, Satan said, “We’re not going to let him get away with this.”
Belial was pretty sure the “he” Satan was talking about was the Enemy, but he had no clue what they weren’t going to let him get away with.
“Of course not,” he said.
“Loopholes are our gig,” said Satan.
“Right,” said Belial. Ah, the loophole.
“I don’t want just any soul.” Satan’s skin darkened again. He was recalling his public humiliation.
“It’s obvious he has a soft spot for the Strong woman,” Satan said. “I want her soul. Hers. When she gets down here, we’ll make her treatment the worst any human has ever experienced. Maybe we’ll build a whole new ring just to torture her. We’ll parade her in front of him every time he comes down. It will eat at his craw, and there’ll be nothing he can do about it.”
Belial listened, feeling a little ill. He’d made things so much worse for Dara. He had to get her out of this mess. He had to.
“It’s not enough for her to just curse the Enemy,” said Satan. “You get that, right? She’ll have to kill herself afterwards, so she doesn’t have a chance to repent.”
Drive Dara to suicide? Horror thick as molasses rolled through Belial. Only his ten thousand years of masking his emotions allowed him to hide his feelings.
“Right,” he said.
How had he let this happen? Through a combination of selfishness and arrogance. He had come below determined to have everything his own way. He would dally with Dara for the duration of her life, then return to Hell and pick up where he’d left off. He had treated her like a toy to be played with and tossed aside.
What had he been thinking? He had pitted himself against the two most powerful entities in the universe. It was no surprise he’d been bested by both. He’d boxed himself into a corner from which he could see no escape. And the one who would pay the price for his arrogance was not him, but Dara.
Satan didn’t seem to notice his silence. “You’ll have to be careful. It can’t look like our doing. The bet stipulates no physical harm. It must be clear she chose
to off herself.”
Revulsion numbed Belial’s lips and slowed his thinking. Dara deserved better than to be pawn in a cosmic pissing match. She deserved better than him.
“Right,” he said again.
Satan drummed his fingers on the table. “So what’s the plan?”
Whatever it took, Belial would save her. More than that, he would leave her in better shape than he’d found her. No matter the cost.
“The same plan still holds.” Belial forced himself to focus. Satan must continue to believe he was on board. “Convince her to betray her deepest beliefs. Her suicide was always a probable outcome.”
With a feeling of self-loathing, he realized that was true. The mission he’d gone above to perform had always held the risk of hurting Dara so deeply she would lose her will to live.
“I just need to take it from probable to absolute,” he said.
Satan looked him up and down. “See that you do.”
Deep in thought, Belial turned to leave. There were two things Dara needed for a better life: a permanent source of money for her clinic and a husband to cherish her. Over the next two weeks, he would arrange both of those things.
Before he could make it out the door, Satan’s voice stopped him again. “When you fuck her, make sure it’s on camera.”
Belial didn’t turn around, didn’t respond in any way.
“That’s an order,” Satan said.
It was almost nine a.m. when Belial got back to the beach house. He crawled into bed, only to be disturbed by the sound of his phone buzzing. It was Jeremy.
“We’re short a fourth for golf. Do you want to join us?”
He’d gotten no sleep the night before, but there was no time to waste in putting his new, two-pronged plan into action. The golf course was the perfect place for both prongs. The mate he found for Dara would likely be a doctor. That was who she’d have the most in common with and who could help her with the clinic. Also, Jeremy’s friends might have ideas on the ways to fund the clinic. Belial arranged to meet them and got out of bed.
From the doorway, Lilith watched him with narrowed eyes. “Word on the rings is you just spent three days with her and you still haven’t hit that.”
He shrugged.
“What happened? This is your sweet spot.”
“This identity Bad created betrays me at every turn.” He’d made the complaint so often it would raise no eyebrows. “I spent those three days with chickenpox. It was a complete waste.”
She shook her head. “Being sick made it possible for you to become close to her. Human women love that vulnerability shit. You’ve lost your edge.”
He shrugged again. “If she was easy, the Enemy would have chosen someone else. Would you mind getting out of here? I want to get dressed.”
But she didn’t leave. Instead, she leaned against the doorsill with her hands behind her back. Her breasts jutted out.
“You must be frustrated,” she said. “We could work some of that off before you play golf.”
His eyes traveled over her curvaceous body. He could bury himself inside that and find release from the pulsing frustration that possessed him. He didn’t even care if all Hell was watching, though he doubted they’d bother. They could see demons fornicate anytime.
It wouldn’t help, though. He didn’t want sex. He wanted Dara. He wanted to make love to her and feel her respond to him. He wanted to hear her soft sighs and watch her eyes go smoky with desire. He wanted to give her more pleasure than any woman had ever experienced.
He pushed Lilith out into the hall. “I’ll take it out on the golf ball.”
Lilith watched Belial pull out of the driveway. What was going on inside that demon’s head? He didn’t trust her, but he had always been willing to drill his frustration into whatever she-demon happened to be available.
She wandered down to the kitchen and retrieved a carton of eggs and some habanero salsa from the refrigerator. She could chip in and help him succeed, but what advantage would that bring her? He might be appreciative, but demons weren’t known for acting on their gratitude. Maybe she should go to the boss and warn him that Belial was behaving suspiciously.
She shook her head. Even if she had something concrete, she doubted that would work. The boss expected demons to undercut each other. He wrote off ninety percent of what he heard as lies. He was mostly right. She pulled a saucepan from the cupboard and added a couple of inches of water.
What might be more useful was an artfully placed falsehood, something to revive Dara’s distrust of Belial. The three days she’d spent nursing him would have eroded her wariness. Something to shore up her flagging sense of caution was definitely called for. But first Lilith needed to find out exactly what Dara was thinking. Today’s spa day should provide ample opportunity for that.
She set the saucepan on the stove and turned the flame to maximum.
Over the course of the day, her goals might not strictly align with the boss’s. As the end of the wager neared, his willingness to turn a blind eye to that type of self-interest had diminished. She couldn’t risk being overheard.
She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and typed a text to Dara, double-checking on their meeting time. Just as she hit send, she bobbled the phone. It arced out of her hands and into the boiling water.
Problem solved.
Dara sat down in the lushly upholstered mani-pedi chair, submerged her bare feet in the footbath and tried to think of a place she’d less rather be. When she didn’t come up with anything, she reminded herself that she owed Lilith.
“Did you get your blouse back from the dry cleaner?” she asked.
A muscle twitched in Lilith’s cheek, but she covered it with a wide smile. “The catsup came right out.”
Dara let out a sigh of relief. “I’ll pay the cleaning bill, of course.”
Lilith immersed her toes in her own footbath. “You’re paying for our treatments today. That’s enough.”
Dara hoped so. She’d nearly had a heart attack when she saw the price list.
“I still feel bad that I didn’t even come by to check on you while you were sick.” Lilith peeped at Dara from the corner of her eye.
Why was Dara keeping Ben’s illness a secret? It wasn’t like Lilith was a demon. Dara decided to tell Lilith the truth.
Lilith laughed. “I’d have loved to have seen that—Ben Lyle with chickenpox.” She gave Dara another sidelong look. “So how was it, being cooped up for three straight days with all that gorgeousness?”
“He’s a lot less gorgeous covered in blisters.”
“Chica, I’d hit that if it was covered in boils.”
In spite of herself, Dara giggled.
“Come on.” Lilith wiggled her toes in the aromatic water. “It’s just us girls. Fess up. Did you finally let down those walls and let yourself enjoy life for once?”
Dara had enjoyed herself, though not in the sense that Lilith meant. She thought of her lingering conversations with Ben as he soaked in the tub and later, when he was feeling better, cuddling on the couch.
“I didn’t have sex with him, if that’s what you mean.”
Lilith groaned. “That’s exactly what I mean. What a waste of an opportunity. You do realize there are a lot of other women who’d be glad to slide underneath that?”
“I do.” The stab of jealousy Dara felt at Lilith’s words startled her.
“A guy like that is not going to wait forever.” There was some tone in Lilith’s voice, some note of speculation, that said when Ben got tired of waiting, she’d be happy to step in.
“He won’t have to,” Dara said.
Lilith turned to stare. Her mouth widened in a grin. “Did I just hear you stake a claim?”
The heat in Dara’s face should have dried her masque instantly. “Maybe.”
“And I should keep my hands off?”
“I’d appreciate it, but I’m surprised you even care. I had the impression you don’t like him all that much.”
L
ilith shrugged. “You don’t have to be soul mates to have fun in bed together.”
When Dara didn’t respond, Lilith turned to look at her again.
“Oh, please,” she said. “Don’t tell me you’re in love with Ben Lyle.”
“Of course not.”
“Good,” said Lilith. “Frolicking between the sheets with him is probably more fun than a Paris shopping spree, but falling for him would be a nightmare. For guys like him, it’s all about collecting scalps.”
Dara’s joy from the past three days turned to ashes in her mouth. “What happened to this being a great passion?”
Lilith blinked. “Well, you didn’t seem to think so, so I figured I was wrong.”
Somehow, Lilith had taken a magical experience and turned it into something tawdry. Dara supposed she should be grateful. No matter how wonderful the past three days had been, Ben Lyle was still a demon.
Chapter 37
Belial spent the first nine holes doing everything in his power to ensure that the other members of his foursome had the games of their lives.
“I think I’ve finally got this figured out,” Jeremy crowed after a particularly good drive, courtesy of a snare to the back of his head that wouldn’t allow him to raise it until he completed his swing. “Maybe I’ll sign up for the Gulf States Pro-Am next spring.”
“Maybe we should sign up as a foursome.” Ted Oakes, an internist, had shot three birdies. His freckled face curved in a beaming smile.
“Maybe we should line up more than one good game in a row before we join the tour.” Tony Balsamo was a lanky OB/GYN with a practice out by the beach.
“Have any of you ever thought about setting up some kind of annual fundraiser for the clinic?” Belial asked.
The other three doctors looked at him in surprise.
“We’re not on the clinic’s board,” Jeremy said.
“I know that, but you all volunteer there. You have an interest.”
“I don’t know.” Jeremy was giddy with his newfound aptitude. “If the clinic goes belly up, we’ll all have an extra evening to play golf.” The others laughed.
The Demon Always Wins: Touched by a Demon, Book 1 Page 24
