Scattered among the sixty-four players were the eight members of the clinic’s board of trustees, looking a little bewildered. For once, Lilith had done as he asked.
When she arrived, she and Dara made a show of air-kissing cheeks, but they didn’t meet one another’s eyes.
“What happened between you and your BFF?” he asked after Lilith moved on.
Dara shrugged. “We discovered we don’t have that much in common.”
He sent up a silent hosanna.
But the highlight was when Dr. Wilson, the old practitioner that had quit during Belial’s first visit to the clinic, showed up. Dara stared at him in stupefaction. By Belial’s count, she had reached out to the old doctor at least a dozen times, but he’d never returned her calls.
Knowing how much the rift hurt her, Belial had dropped by the man’s house and invited him to play in the tournament. When Dr. Wilson tried to shut the door in his face, he tossed a snare.
“I may be too old to treat patients,” Dr. Wilson said now, “but I can still help the clinic.”
Tears shimmered in Dara’s eyes. Dr. Wilson reached out and patted her hand.
“Don’t get yourself all upset,” he said. “You were right. It was time I stepped back.”
“But the med students learned so much from you.”
He considered that. “What if I come back and just serve in a mentoring role?”
They made plans to reconnect the following week. As the old man walked away, Dara turned toward Belial, her face shining like Moses’ when he came down from Mt. Sinai. It was the best snare Belial had ever thrown.
At twelve thirty, Halpas’s celebrity arrived. He made a short speech of welcome and the games began. Belial’s sense that all was right with the world suffered a setback when Dara picked up the last remaining table assignment.
“Where are you going?” he asked, trailing her into the ballroom.
“As the executive director at the clinic, I’m a member of the board. They expect me to invest as much as they do.”
“Where did you hear that?”
For a moment, he thought she wouldn’t answer. Finally, she said, “Lilith.”
Damn Lilith and her constant interference. “You invest every day of your life into that place.”
She patted his arm. “Maybe I’ll have beginner’s luck and I’ll win.”
He looked at the hard faces at the tables around the room. There was no chance of that. “Do you even know how to play poker?”
She nodded. “I read up on it online yesterday. It doesn’t look that complicated.”
He groaned. He had planned to roam around the room, ensuring everyone was comfortable and happy, at least till they lost all their money. Now he positioned himself behind Dara.
Tony Balsamo, the OB/GYN he’d played golf with, sat next to her. Good. She could make his acquaintance. Once Belial was gone, perhaps something would come of that. The thought was less satisfying than Belial had expected. He didn’t want her with another man, even a good man.
Ed Norris, from the Bermuda County Commission, took the third spot at the table. A retired doctor who had returned early from his summer place off the coast of Massachusetts dealt the first hand.
Dara drew a pair of jacks, and an ace, deuce and trey of hearts. Belial watched with cautious optimism as she matched the opening bet of two hundred dollars. Hope turned to dismay when she traded in her jacks for what proved to be the five of spades and nine of clubs. After the hand ended, he dragged her away from the table. “Why did you get rid of those jacks?”
“The website said five in a row of the same suit is better than two of the same kind.”
He took a deep breath. “Did the website also quote the statistical probability of getting five in a row?”
Dara frowned. “Maybe. I didn’t have time to read the whole article.”
“Think in terms of probability from now on,” he said.
The next hand, she wound up with three fives. She let herself be bid up to two hundred and fifty dollars, but then folded when the old man from Nantucket doubled the stakes. Pretending there was an issue he needed to discuss with her, Belial pulled her from the table again.
“Why did you fold? You know that three of a kind is a good hand.”
“He acted like his was better,” she said. “And you were so upset over me losing two hundred dollars, I figured you’d freak if I lost five hundred.”
He groaned.
“If you’re such a great poker player,” Dara said, “why aren’t you playing?” He tried to walk away without answering, but she grabbed his arm. “Why?”
He flushed. “Because I spent every dime I had getting this thing set up.”
She stared at him like he was still a member of the heavenly host. Then she grabbed his head between her hands and kissed him, on the mouth, in front of the entire room. Scattered applause broke out and she blushed but didn’t back away.
“Are all demons like you?” she whispered.
“No,” he said. “I’m not even like me.” And it was true. Somewhere along the line, he’d changed into something else, though he had no idea what that something was.
Dara was out at the end of the first round. When she had good cards, she underbid or folded. When she had lousy cards, she took ridiculous chances. She knew nothing about checking, and she was careless about keeping her cards hidden. And through it all, her face displayed every thought that crossed her mind. She was, without question, the worst poker player he had ever seen.
“Well, did you at least have fun?” he asked during the break. They stood beside the buffet. Kelsey’s caterer had done a great job, and even the players who lost in the first round seemed to be enjoying themselves.
“That’s the fastest two thousand dollars I’ve ever spent without getting a case of insulin in return.” She looked so shell-shocked he had to hug her.
“Hey, you two, get a room,” Lilith said.
She had won her table. Jeremy, like Dara, was already out. He was at the other end of the buffet, chatting with Kelsey. After a moment, Dara excused herself to go speak to one of her volunteers. Lilith wasn’t having a good day on the relationship front.
“You have two choices,” Belial said as soon as Dara walked away. “You can lose sometime in the next three rounds, or you can donate your winnings to the clinic.”
“Make me,” Lilith said. He was surprised she didn’t stick her tongue out.
He took her by the shoulders and turned her around. Taking her head between his hands, he tilted it so she was looking at one of the cameras that dotted the corners of the ceiling. “This time, I’ll have proof that you tried to undercut the mission.”
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll lose in the next round.”
The final round came down to the celebrity and the old man from Nantucket. It was a hard-fought match, but in the end, the old man won the pot. In a grand gesture, he donated half of his winnings, bringing the clinic’s take to over fifty thousand dollars. It was far more than he’d dared hope for. Not bad for a week’s work. Dara accepted the donation with a huge smile as everyone cheered.
“I promise that we’ll do a lot of good with this money,” she said.
Belial was pleased. It set a great precedent for similar donations from future tournaments.
His mind was already on the next challenge, though. He walked into the men’s room and stepped into one of the stalls, closing the door behind him. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dropped it into the toilet.
He was going to need some privacy.
Chapter 41
Belial pulled a table topper from the rented van and looked around the garage of Dara’s condo. “What do you want me to do with these?”
She checked the rafters. “I think they can go up there, but I’ll have put down plywood first. Could you please stack them inside the house for now?”
He carried the first topper into the dining room and set it on the floor. “I’ll buy some plywood tomor
row so we can get these out of your dining room.”
“Thank you.” Dara still wore the starry-eyed look she’d had at the tournament.
A fist clamped around his heart. There was no way he could give her what she wanted—what, to his shame, he’d led her to expect. Not without putting her soul at risk.
Once the toppers were disposed of, he climbed the ladder. She handed him unopened decks of playing cards sealed in plastic. Her fingers brushed his, and it was like a flame traveled up his arm to his chest. The need for her was so great he clenched his teeth. He drew a deep breath and placed the bag on the shelf.
“Next year, you’ll already have all the equipment.” He was proud of how conversational he sounded. “So your expenses will be lower. And you’ll have longer to plan, so you won’t spend so much expediting things. I told Betty to reserve the ballroom for the first Saturday in December. She put you in her book.” There. That was better. He took a step down the ladder.
Dara stroked his calf, as though she couldn’t keep her hands off him. Her touch left him so lightheaded he missed a step, jolting as he caught himself.
“Careful.” Her hand slid from his calf up the back of his thigh to steady him. Their eyes met, and the heat between them was like a tangible thing. The warmth of her touch penetrated the fabric of his pants, and desire rose, thick and sweet. His brain clouded as all the blood forsook it for points south.
He stepped off the ladder and she lifted her face for his kiss.
“Let’s go to bed,” she said.
His hands shook with the need to gather her close. He wanted to hold her and never let go. And that was the problem. If he touched her, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from making love to her. And once they had joined, she would be unable to resist doing whatever he asked.
He would have given the rest of his eternal life to be united with her just once, but he could not, would not, betray her like that. He loved her too much. The thought stunned him, but even as he rejected it as impossible—demons couldn’t love—he knew it to be true.
He had always loved her, even before she was born. He would love her beyond her life’s end, even after she’d gone to a place beyond his reach, where he’d never see or speak to her again.
His resolve strengthened. He would not put her soul in jeopardy. Rejecting her at this stage was cruel, but it would save her from a hellish future. The one thing he could do to make it easier for her was allow her to refuse him.
He grinned at her. “Pretty eager, aren’t you?”
She blushed. “I’ve been looking forward to it, yes.”
He was such an ass. He’d deserved to be cast out of heaven. He’d deserved every horrible thing Satan had ever done to him. He smirked. “You should be. You haven’t had sex until you’ve had it with me.”
She stopped smiling, and it was as though the sun had dimmed. “Do you think you’re being funny?”
He forced a careless shrug. “No, I just think I’m the best lover you’ll ever have.” His tone insinuated there would be many more.
Her face froze into a glacier. “Mostly you’re just a jerk.” She shook her head. “Why do I keep forgetting you’re a demon? Nana keeps warning me, but do I listen?” She turned on her heel and walked away. “Feel free to let yourself out.”
It was what he wanted, wasn’t it? He would have been fine if he hadn’t caught a glint of tears in her eyes as she turned away. The sight of her tears, knowing he’d caused them, was like Ehud’s sword twisting into his entrails. It hurt more than any of Satan’s punishments ever had. He had approached the problem with his usual toolset—arrogance, manipulation and callous indifference to others’ feelings—and hurt the woman he loved more than life itself.
“Dara, I’m sorry.”
She didn’t turn around. “You can’t keep being a jerk and just expect that I’ll forgive you.”
“I know.” It was no more than he deserved. “Can I explain?”
She turned, her arms folded across her chest. “You can try.”
“I was afraid.”
Her face didn’t soften. “Humans are afraid all the time. We’re not immortal. We don’t have special powers. But some of us manage to get through the day without deliberately hurting other people.”
He hung his head.
“What are you afraid of?” she asked. “It’s not like I’m asking for a commitment here. You’ll be gone in a week. Right?”
He’d forgotten she knew his timeline, even though she didn’t know what lay behind it.
“I’m afraid, if I make love to you, you’ll be more susceptible to corruption.”
She nodded. “Uh-huh.”
He blinked. “You knew that?”
“Of course. It’s just common sense that being intimate with a demon increases my risk of corruption. Bad news: we’ve already been pretty intimate.”
“No, I mean, having intercourse.”
She nodded. “That’s another level of intimacy.”
She wasn’t getting it. “No woman I’ve made love to has ever been able to refuse me whatever I’ve asked afterward.” Shame filled him.
To his shock, she burst out laughing. “So, you think once you touch me with your magic wand, I’ll say yes to anything you ask?”
Put that way, it sounded silly, but he knew it to be true. He growled with frustration. How to convince her? He spied the Bible sitting on the dining room table. When his hair burst into flames, she would realize he was still a danger to her. He picked up the book and waited for the warning prickle of heat, but he felt only a faint warmth.
“Where did this come from?” he asked. It looked old, but perhaps it hadn’t been used much.
“It was my grandfather’s. Nana gave it to me.”
Six weeks ago, this same Bible had nearly ignited him in her grandmother’s room. Maybe it was the lie that had sparked the fire.
“Buffy the Vampire Slayer is so accurate it should be a documentary,” he said. Nothing happened.
“What are you doing?” asked Dara.
He set the Bible down, thoroughly confused. “My hair didn’t catch fire.”
“Why would it?”
“I barely made it out of your grandmother’s room before it went up in flames last time.”
Her eyes widened. “Really?”
“Really. That’s what I’m telling you. I’m dangerous.”
She considered that. “But it doesn’t have the same effect anymore.”
He frowned. “No, it doesn’t.”
She drew her ruby from inside her dress and held it out. He pressed the inside of his wrist against the jewels. His flesh didn’t react.
She raised her eyebrows. “If you’re done being superstitious, can we make love?”
“I’m a demon. You’re a human. There’s never a good outcome for your side.”
She reached behind her back and unzipped the little black dress, letting it slide to the floor. Beneath it she wore a silky black bra, a matching garter belt, the black nylons he’d stroked at the registration desk and the tiniest thong he’d ever seen.
“Define ‘good outcome.’“
As soon as the dress pooled at her feet and she stood before him, naked except for three scraps of black lace and her garter belt and stockings, Dara knew she’d won. Where in the world had she gotten the courage to face down his fears when her own still ran rampant? She didn’t know. She just knew this was something she needed to do.
She touched the sleeve of his jacket. “I feel a little underdressed.”
He untied his tie and tossed it aside, then took off his jacket, never taking his eyes off her. He removed his cummerbund. When he tried to unbutton his shirt, his fingers stumbled.
She reached for him. “Let me do that.”
She made short work of the buttons and pushed his shirt off his shoulders, only to have his sleeves catch on his cufflinks. He tried to work his hands free, but she stopped him. Pressing her mouth against his, she captured his hands behind his back. Ki
ssing him, knowing he couldn’t touch her in any other way, felt exciting and forbidden. She unzipped his pants. With his arms essentially tied behind his back, she was in control. She dragged his pants down to his ankles. Kneeling in front of him, she stroked his length through the silk of his boxer shorts.
He closed his eyes and groaned. His penis was as hard as marble, but it throbbed like flesh and blood.
She wanted to pull down his boxers and engulf him in her mouth, but he stepped back. He freed his hands and his shirt dropped to the floor. Then he toed off his shoes and stepped from his trousers.
“Slow down,” he said.
Dara got to her feet. “Slow down? We’ve been having foreplay for the past six weeks.”
“You think that was foreplay? Clearly, I have a lot to teach you about foreplay.” He lifted her onto the dining room table, spreading her knees so he could stand between them. He stroked along the sides of the triangle of cloth between her thighs. She writhed beneath his knowing hands.
“I want you to know that I esteem you above all women.” He cupped his hand over the tiny triangle of cloth. The warmth of his palm radiated through the fabric.
She pressed herself against his hand.
“Not just the women alive on the planet today,” he said, “but all women ever.”
She wriggled, and her thong crept into the folds there. Her teeth clenched.
“That doesn’t look comfortable.” He slipped his finger underneath the fabric, taking his sweet time working it loose. Every touch made her want him inside her more.
“Condoms.” She could barely form words. “We need condoms.”
He unhooked one of her stockings from her garter belt and rolled it slowly down her leg, kissing his way down as he went.
“You humans. Always in such a hurry. Perhaps it’s because you live such short lives. It makes you feel you must race through every experience.” Then he started on the other leg, even more slowly.
“I’m ready,” she said. The truth was that she’d been ready since that first night at the gas pump.
The Demon Always Wins: Touched by a Demon, Book 1 Page 28
