“You just think you are.” He nibbled kisses up her thigh. His lips set every nerve on fire as he inched his way upward. Her hands closed spasmodically on the table.
“There’s so much further to go,” he said.
And she was willing to go there.
“Don’t stop,” she said.
He stopped. “What I feel for you goes beyond lust. I need you to understand that. I admire you. I respect you. I venerate you.”
“I appreciate that,” she said. “For now, can we just focus on the lust part?” Hooking her ankles around his back, she pulled him toward her. He unhooked them and stepped back.
Then he pulled her thong aside, leaving her exposed to the cool air, but only for a moment. He bent to lick what he’d just revealed. She grabbed the tablecloth, scrunching it with her hands. His mouth felt so good she thought she’d lose her mind, but it wasn’t what she wanted.
“Condoms,” she said.
“Where are they?” he asked. His fingers replaced his stroking tongue.
“My nightstand.”
He planted another kiss on her thigh. “I’ll be right back.”
But he wasn’t. After a few minutes, she sat up, feeling silly and more than a little irritated. Where in the world was he?
She stalked down the hallway to the bedroom. It was empty. Her nightstand drawer was open, so he must have found the condoms. She crossed the bedroom to the open bathroom door. Inside, he was patting his face dry. What in the world?
“What are you doing?” she asked. And why isn’t it me?
“Just slowing things down a little.”
“And you want to do that—why?”
He turned and smiled. He trailed his fingertips down her ribcage and over the curve of her hip. Her knees wanted to buckle. “So much loveliness.”
She grabbed the hem of his boxers on both sides and yanked them down. His penis sprang out like a creature freed from a cage.
His lips quirked. “Are you trying to tell me something?”
She removed her bra, then twined her fingers in the strings holding her thong in place and dragged them down over her hips, letting the scrap of lace fall to the floor. Taking his hand, she led him to the bed. She sat down on the edge and scooted to the middle.
“I’ll give you three guesses,” she said, “and the first two don’t count.”
He crawled onto the bed and bent his mouth to the nipple closest to him. She arched with pleasure. Finally, he seemed to be getting the message.
“I want to bathe in the limpid pools that are your eyes.” He slipped a finger inside her. “I want to drink from the goblet of your navel.” He added a second finger, crooking it expertly against her pubic bone, but they were past the point where even expert foreplay would satisfy her. “I want to—”
“I want to fuck!” she shouted.
His head jerked back.
A wave of embarrassment rolled up Dara’s chest, neck and face. Even the part in her hair felt hot. She fought the urge to hide her face in her pillow.
She glared at him. “I have never said that word in my life.”
“I just wanted you to know this isn’t just—”
“You’ve been promising me hot demon sex for six weeks.” She pointed to his very erect penis. “Prove to me that’s more than a prop.”
Now he was grinning. “Is that a challenge?”
“Take it how you will.”
“Whatever the lady wants.” He shoved her back on the bed and parted her legs. With a flourish, he produced the condom and rolled it on. Then he sheathed himself inside her. It was as though half of her that had been missing all her life was finally home.
Chapter 42
At two a.m., exhaustion finally called a halt to their lovemaking. Dara drifted off to sleep. Belial wished he could do the same, but he had to report in. He couldn’t afford to anger Satan again. He crawled out of bed and put on his pants.
“Not a sleepover kind of guy, I take it?” Dara sounded disappointed, though she tried to keep her voice light.
He finished dressing and knelt beside the bed. She reached for him, but he threaded his fingers through hers so she couldn’t embrace him.
“If I had my choice”—he brushed his lips across her knuckles—”I would stay in this bed beside you forever, holding you and feeling your body respond to mine. You are the most exquisite, fascinating, irresistible woman I’ve ever known.”
She smiled. He couldn’t recall ever seeing her so happy.
“But I have to report in to he-who-shall-not-be-named.”
Her face dimmed. “What happens if you don’t go?”
He glanced at the clock and grimaced. “So far, nothing. But I don’t think he’ll wait much longer.” He bit his lip. “I have a confession to make.”
She sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest. He covered her hand with his and dragged the sheet even higher, until it covered her scarred collarbones.
“Stop distracting me,” he said. “I need to tell you something, and I don’t have much time.”
She nodded.
“You’ve already figured out I’m not here to observe American healthcare,” he said.
She grew very still. “Are you here to destroy my clinic?”
“No.” Honestly compelled him to add, “Not per se.”
She clutched the sheet tighter. “What does that mean? Why did you come here?”
He set his jaw. Once he made his confession, she would probably order him from her life and refuse to ever set eyes on him again. If that were the case, then so be it. She would be safe, and that was all he could ask for.
“I came here to destroy you,” he said.
Her eyes went wide. “To destroy me?”
He nodded.
“Why?”
He shook his head. He would not tell her the Enemy was behind this. Someday, not too long from now, her grandmother would pass on and Dara would need the comfort of her God. He wouldn’t take that from her.
“It’s what we do,” he said.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I love you. I don’t want to harm you, but I may not have a choice. You need to be on your guard. Especially at the clinic, because that’s where you’re most vulnerable.”
“Should I ban you from the clinic?”
He considered that but shook his head. “The boss is really committed to this. If I’m not working this mission, he’ll send someone else, a demon you may not recognize. Fortunately, the mission has a hard end date.”
“The end of next week. Why?”
“I can’t tell you that.” He took her hand and held it against his heart. “But I pledge this to you: I won’t hurt you or your clinic.”
As he crossed through the portal, Belial realized he hadn’t warned Dara about Lilith. He considered doing a U-turn and going back, but that would never fly. The boss’s surveillance system would have already told him Belial was back in Hell. He made his way down to the boss’s office, his palms damp.
If the boss had even the tiniest suspicion that Belial planned to undermine the wager, he’d toss him into the Lake of Fire and let another demon finish the mission. It was impossible to predict whether the Enemy would allow such a substitution. You could never predict where the Enemy would land on anything.
In Ring Nine, Andras looked at Belial with her huge, unblinking eyes. “He’s expecting you.”
His gut tightened another crank. He walked into Satan’s office.
“Were you able to finally complete the second snare?” To his relief, Satan was calm—relaxed, even.
Belial nodded.
“Do you have things lined up for the final act?”
“Yes,” Belial said, hoping like heaven he was right.
“What’s your next step?”
He paused. This next bit was critical. “The final snare is corruption of the sanctuary. We went into this wager assuming that the Enemy’s champion would find refuge in his word or his church, but that doesn’
t seem to be the case.”
He gained confidence as he spoke. Dara hadn’t set foot in a church since the wager began. It would be hard for anyone to argue this point. “The target’s life revolves around her clinic. It’s how she spends her time, her money and her energy. It’s what gives her life meaning. It’s her sanctuary.”
Satan smirked. “I hope you’ve given her something else that fits those criteria.”
Belial forced a semblance of his old cocky grin. “I rocked her world.”
Satan’s smirk grew wider. “How do you plan to make her betray the clinic?”
Belial drew a deep breath. He had to get Satan’s buy-in to letting him play this by ear. That would allow him to fritter away the last few days of the wager without delivering. “I need to wait and see what opportunity arises.”
Tiny puffs of smoke erupted from Satan’s horns. His face darkened to a deep maroon. Belial tensed.
“We’ve got less than seven fucking days left and you want to wing it?” Satan asked.
Don’t say any more than you have to. Forewarned was forearmed. The less Satan knew, the better. Belial would have to provide a little bit more detail, though.
“I’ll be on the lookout for a patient I can misdiagnose. Dara put me back on the schedule every night, so I’ll have plenty of opportunities. I need to wait for a case that she’ll believe was a simple mistake and back me. Then we can spring the trap.”
With any luck, he could leverage that excuse all the way through Friday. After that, it would be too late for the boss to intervene.
Satan pinched his skinny lower lip, staring at Belial with eyes like slits. Belial met Satan’s gaze, his face bland.
After a moment, Satan nodded. “Make sure you don’t kill anyone. I don’t want to lose this bet on a technicality.”
“I won’t,” Belial said, and meant it.
He turned to leave, but Satan’s voice stopped him. “Before you go back, stop by DemSec.”
“Why? This mission is all but over.”
“Whenever something’s going on, you never seem to have your cell phone. I want you miked.”
So much for his hopes of privacy.
In DemSec, they kept him waiting for hours, making up flimsy excuses every time he complained about the delay. Finally, Bad showed up, yawning, and motioned Belial to one of the operating chairs. He sat down, and Bad produced a tiny device.
“Where are you putting that thing?” Belial asked.
“In your ear.”
“She’ll see it and make me get rid of it.”
“Not where I’m putting it.” Bad jammed the device deep into his ear canal, and Belial screamed. “Don’t be such a wuss,” Bad said. The other techies snickered.
It felt like his eardrum had just ruptured. A rivulet of blood trickled from his ear.
“Hmm,” said Bad. “Maybe you weren’t such a wuss.”
“Can I go now?” Belial rose from the chair, a little dizzy from pain.
Bad shook his head. “We have an upgrade to install.”
Belial tried the same argument he’d used on Satan: “Why bother? This mission is almost over.”
“There’s a glitch in your current release.”
Bad wandered off, leaving a pair of techs to insert long needles into every joint in Belial’s body. Each one burned like the fires of Hades, and the burning pain lingered long after they withdrew the needles.
If he protested, they’d just drag it out longer. He longed to get back to Dara, to spend these last few hours by her side, so he clenched his teeth and got through it. After what felt like days of torture, he stumbled from the chair and headed back above.
Chapter 43
When Ben got back to Dara’s condo on Sunday evening, he looked so exhausted she hated to run him through another gauntlet, but she’d promised Nana.
He pointed to his ear and pantomimed listening.
Listening device? she mouthed. He nodded.
Then he took her in his arms and kissed her like he was parched and she was his oasis. When he released her, she slipped on her sandals.
He perked up. “Am I taking you out to dinner?”
“Even better,” she said. “We’re going to visit my grandmother.”
He groaned. “Will she torture me again?”
“I don’t know what she has in mind.” Dara slipped her arm through his. “Do you want to take my car or yours?”
“We’d better take yours,” he said, “in case I’m too incapacitated to drive afterwards.”
She threaded her fingers through his. “I’ll protect you.”
He followed her out to the garage. “So this is what I’ve come down to. Henpecked by a mere mortal.”
She raised up on her toes to kiss him. “It’s what all smart men come down to.”
Nana was sitting in her recliner when they arrived. Her tray table held her perfume atomizer and a sachet of what Dara assumed to be demonweed. Ben hung back a little at the door, but she pushed him into the room. Once inside, he dug in like a sick toddler, refusing to take another step.
Nana’s eyes raked over him. “You’re right,” she said to Dara. “He’s different.”
Dara took advantage of Ben’s surprise to shove him a few steps closer.
“Give me your hand.” Nana picked up the sachet of demonweed.
Wincing, he held out his hand. “What is it about you Perdue women that makes you determined to torture me?”
She scrubbed it up and down the inside of his forearm.
He stared at his arm in surprise. It had turned a little red, but there was no sign of the welts the herbs had raised last time.
“Even the demonweed don’t work on him like it did.” Nana picked up the atomizer, but he backed out of range.
“I can testify that still works,” Dara said.
Nana’s thin lips twitched.
“Though not as much,” Dara said. “And he seems to heal slower than he did. What does that mean?”
“He’s becoming less of demon,” Nana said.
Joy blossomed in her heart, but it wilted when Nana didn’t smile. Neither did Ben.
“You’ve seen this before?” he asked.
“Once,” Nana said. “After Lonnie prayed over a demon.”
“What happened?” Dara asked.
Ben’s face was impassive.
“His master called him home,” Nana said. “I don’t know what became of him after that.”
“He was put through a reorientation program,” Ben said. A world of horror lay behind those words. “I heard about it at the time, but I didn’t realize it was your husband who performed the exorcism.”
“Wasn’t no exorcism.” Nana’s jaw jutted out. “It was just a praying.”
The old Ben might have split hairs with her or claimed to know more than she did on the subject. The new Ben just nodded.
“I can see that you’d like to be more than you are.” Nana’s voice was almost gentle. “But it’s not to be. Demons aren’t God’s children, who can repent of their sins and be forgiven.”
Even though she was talking to Belial, her words were aimed at Dara.
“Demons are supernatural creatures that must live out eternity expiating their betrayal of the Lord. No matter how well you mean, you’re still a danger to my granddaughter, and everything she works for.”
Ben bowed his head. Dara saw something that looked like sympathy flit across Nana’s face, but it was quickly gone.
“If you care for her,” Nana said, “you’ll return to Hell, from whence you came.”
When they got back to the condo, they spent the rest of the evening cuddled up on the sofa, eating popcorn and watching America’s Funniest Home Videos, laughing at the pratfalls. Dara offered to put Breaking Bad in the DVD player, but Ben had already seen it. The series was a favorite in Hell.
“Things go so well. Right up to the end, anyway.”
She punched him in the ribs and he said, “Oof,” and they wrestled a little on the couch
, but he didn’t let things get out of hand. During the commercials, they talked, careful to stick with topics that posed no danger.
Soon after that, they turned off the TV and headed for bed. In the bedroom, Dara switched on a small stack stereo. The strains of Monteverdi’s “Pur ti miro” filled the room. Ben smiled, and she smiled back at him. Then she turned up the volume and pressed the repeat button. They spent the next couple of hours amid a symphony of sound, exploring each other’s bodies.
The next evening was the pediatric clinic again. Belial arrived early because he wanted a chance to review the charts ahead of time. There were five patients scheduled, an atypically heavy caseload for a peds clinic. The list included a ten-year-old girl with complications from Type 1 diabetes and asthma. Should he have Dara call in another doctor? No, better not. He didn’t want to alert Satan.
Dara always triaged the sickest patients first, but he put the girl last to downplay the severity of her illnesses. After working his way through two rashes, a tennis elbow and case of RSV, he had Dara bring the girl in. Her HgA1c reading said she was ready for a reduction in her insulin dosage.
When he tried to input the new dosage into the computer, his fingers typed an increase instead of a decrease—one large enough to put her into a coma, depending on when she took it. He tried to correct the entry, but it was as though steel spider webs entangled his hands. The cords crept up his arms. Thrall.
He fought it until, finally, stabbing at the keys with one finger, he forced the correct entry. Satan’s rage was like a hot breath on the back of his neck, but he ignored it.
“She’s doing a great job,” he told her mother. “Make sure she keeps it up.”
Dara escorted them to the lobby while he finished up the computer work. When she came back, she was frowning.
“Is there a problem?”
He didn’t want to frighten her, and he had things under control. “No. I’m good.”
“Because you seem to be having problems with your hands.”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? Maybe I should take you off the schedule for the rest of the week.”
The Demon Always Wins: Touched by a Demon, Book 1 Page 29
