Scathe

by Chacelyn Pierce

  Finally, after nearly giving up hope on finding her, she was in his home. The one soul he searched eons for: so beautiful and radiant, his infatuation would never stop. Even with his demonic sight, she shined like a million diamonds when the third plane was devoid and coated with blackness. Bright and luminescent, a part of him didn't want to ruin it. The Devil's Mark destroyed everything, it corroded everything. Perhaps he'd been too hasty. Would the old soul remember him? Could he make Andrea believe she'd been meant to be his long before she was born in this life? Did he want her to, or would it be better to start fresh? He couldn't understand the second guessing that tumbled through his mind. He planned to own her essence for all eternity. And why on earth was he considering the woman's feelings on the situation?

  Andrea took him off guard when she slowed a step to walk beside him. He played it off by offering a smile, but he inhaled the deep scent of her flowery lotion.

  "Still scared of me?" he asked giving her a playful grin.

  She shrugged. "No, more untrustworthy." With good reason. Ortus stayed a good twenty feet ahead, giving them a sense of privacy, but his minion had excellent hearing and could probably hear Andrea's heartbeat if he concentrated hard enough. "This place is majestic," she said, looking over the art and décor he'd collected over the centuries. "Have you had everything appraised? How much is it worth if you don't mind me asking. Hmm, let me guess; it's all priceless."

  "You knew I'd say that?" He flashed a teasing smile. If she knew possession of her soul would end his never-ending searching. She'd been under his nose the whole time. He'd been a fool to push her away. He'd nearly lost her again, but yet again luck shined brightly on his side. He'd entered the Italian bistro, hoping to recollect a taste of old home without flying to Italy when he'd experienced it. A twinge of familiarity, the alluring tug he hadn't experienced since Venice. His attention focused on the woman sitting at on her own at the small table, jumbling her papers and tablet around as she worked. He knew her face, knew she'd sought him out without knowing anything about him, other than his reputation. She was the nosy reporter Ortus talked about from time to time, but she also hosted the soul he'd longed for. She'd been searching him out. Just when he'd given up, fate spiraled them into an interweaving web again.

  He had to be cool, he was sure another opportunity wouldn't come for few centuries.

  Andrea continued walking beside him in silence, her high heels clacking on the marble floors of the hallway. She didn't even notice her footsteps were the only ones causing an echo. Or that a few of the sculptured beasts eyed her because they were living demons pretending to be stone. She saw none of the small dangers around her, but she kept her focus on the biggest one of them all. Luc knew she noticed him, not like a soul fearing the Devil but as a woman observing a man. However, he was no man. He pretended to appear like one, and even then, at times, he looked inhuman. With all the stories circulating about him, this mortal woman showed indifference to what he'd been titled in the supernatural community. She actually sought him out when all others avoided him. She didn't run from danger but faced it head on. A far stretch from the soul that ran from him centuries ago.

  "You're quite different than I expected, Miss Matthews." Her cheery smile seemed almost picturesque. "I don't dally in human affairs much, but I was certain when a female intended to impress, she would spruce herself up."

  Her smile faltered and her eyebrows rose. "Who says I'm trying to impress you? This is an interview, not a date."

  "Of course," Luc said pretending to be absentminded about the whole thing. He'd gone through the trouble of putting on his best suit, tie, and shirt that were slightly uncomfortable, for her to just show up in work clothes. His minions indicated she had a rich, dark dress she had laid out for tonight. He'd deal with their inaccuracy later. It almost made him feel like an idiot. Luc hated being pinned a fool, especially to a human. Even though mortals were disgusting with their ways, Andrea Matthews spiked his interest, just like the female from his past that he tried hard to forget.

  She scoffed. "Frankly, this interview isn't going well. You haven't shown me anything that dictates you're who you believe to be," she said with a little bit more fire.

  "That will have to come after dinner, Miss Matthews." He patted his pocket when she looked away. She wanted to see some truth. She'd have to give him something in return. She frowned to herself and crossed her arms, nearly hugging her body. Curiosity played over her face, but she turned to him and smiled brightly. "All right, after dinner. Deal?" She held her hand out toward him, barely breaking her stride.

  "My deals have to be noted on paper, or they lose all evil credibility."

  "Unbelievable," she muttered and marched into the dining room, leaving him to admire her ass yet again.

  By the time Luc entered the dining room, Ortus had already parked Miss Matthews at her end of the eight seating table. A vast space separated them and the wide expansion of food. Tonight had always been about space from the start, but getting her to sign her soul away would require a more human approach, which required closeness. He pulled out the chair next to her.

  "Master?" Ortus looked petrified, broken protocols threw the minion for a loop. Also Andrea seemed just as shocked as the imp.

  "Miss Matthews and I haven't finished our conversation. Move my dining ware down here." Ortus bowed as Andrea scoffed. He turned and glared at her, trying to keep from staring at the one button that slipped out of place and parted her blouse to show cleavage. "Have I done something to offend you? It is difficult to hear without shouting if I sat down there."

  Andrea lowered her voice and peered at Ortus. "Do you have to bark orders at him like that?"

  Luc blinked in mild shock. "Yes, he is mine to control. And do you presume to tell me how to run my household?"

  "Not at all," she quipped. She took up her wine and touched the glass to her lips but paused on taking a sip. She examined the burgundy fluid with a keen eye, searching for any wrongdoing.

  "I don't poison, if that's what you're looking for." Luc leaned back so Ortus could place his plates and silverware down.

  "One can never be too careful." She sipped her wine delicately. Drawing his attention to her full lips and what they would look like traveling down his body. He rubbed his chin, trying to cast away thoughts that could ruin everything he wanted tonight.

  "Oh yum!" she said ecstatically, causing him to glance down at her exposed plate. Ortus had out done himself. He missed cooking for guests.

  "I'm glad you approve, miss," Ortus said swelling his chest up with pride. "Roasted duck over a bed of risotto and Portobello mushrooms, steamed wild vegetables, and for dessert, tiramisu." Her eyes widened a fraction and Ortus waved a hand for her to try the meal he prepared. She forked the tender duck and delicately placed it in her mouth. She closed her eyes as a savory moan escaped her throat. Luc adjusted in his seat and took up the glass of vino to his right hand. If she moaned like that for every bite, his cock would be as hard as stone. She looked at Ortus with wonder, and Luc tried fighting the jealous tendencies that flared up.

  "This is superb," she glanced at Luc. "I'll have to borrow him one day."

  Luc forced a grin. "Sure. Ortus, you are excused." The imp didn't have to be told twice. He left the room in a few paces.

  Immediately, her smile dropped. "I'd like to ask a few more questions." Luc lifted a palm for her to continue. "So how many minions do you control?"

  Luc leaned back with his glass of Chianti and looked up at the ceiling as if it would help him reach the answer sooner. "Too many legions to name." He knew the total, but she didn't need to know. Her fragile mind wouldn't be able to comprehend such numbers.

  Andrea frowned and forked up another bite and ate with silence. She swallowed before replying. "Why am I not surprised you have no clue on the exact number."

  Luc laughed. "My dear, it's like asking the answer to an infinite and fluctuating question." He sipped his Chianti, and then eyed the glass. The crisp wine
was a vintage he'd ordered to be opened for special occasions only. Ortus the cheeky bastard. "My I ask you a question?"

  She smirked. "Shoot."

  "How far are you willing to go to learn the truth of things? You keep digging and eventually you'll find the info you were searching for, but what happens when you reach the bottom and the dirt starts caving in on you?"

  "Oh, that's easy. I'll dig myself out. I've done it before." She took another bite, and he watched her savor the flavors. What was it about her soul that enticed him sexually? It made him want things he never wanted to pursue with a human woman. Andrea's leg show earlier made him sweat under the collar, but that had been child's play. What he really wanted was for his hands to slide up her skin until he found the soft, wet junction that made her whimper and cry out his name. Watching her eat had been torture; her exaggeration on the flavors had him viewing not just the soul, but the woman commandeering it. It concerned him that his views were changing. He should take what he wanted and send her on her way. Simply snag her soul, then give her the evidence she needed for the article, and never see her again until it was time to collect. Patience, the night is still young.

  However, setting her free meant she'd likely see other men. She should be his and his alone in the bedroom. Damn, he started to desire her more than what was healthy. It went well beyond the soul slipping through his fingers centuries ago. It was in the twinkle in her eyes as she found something really amusing and the twitch of her lips when her skepticism got the best of her thoughts. He knew this soul well beyond the Venice woman, but it was up to her to find out how her past and future intertwined.

  "Why are you staring at me?" Her voice wavered.

  "How can I not?" Oh, that was smooth. He'd actually been in a daze and hadn't realized he was gazing at her face. She flashed a shy smile and took a sip of water. Judging by the slight tremor of her hand it seemed like he made her uneasy. He tried not to, which had been a first for him. He normally wanted to scare the shit out of everyone he met. Her fear of him was a goal at first, a way to bully her into signing. Now, perhaps her company wasn't all that bad. He definitely wanted to see her again.

  "Do I still make you edgy, Andrea?"

  She wiped her mouth on the napkin and leaned back with the bravado of a queen. "Not really, I'm more nervous about what unexpected thing I'll say next."

  "So, you've lost control of your words?"

  She gave a tight smile. "Something like that. I gotta say again, Mr. Ifer, I haven't seen anything really evil about you." She was back at it again.

  "You must be blind because evil incarnate is sitting beside you." She laughed out loud and covered her beautiful smile with her hand.

  "Are you Satan?"

  Luc smiled genuinely. "No, Satan is something else entirely."

  She leaned her elbows on the table, and braced her chin on her hand in interest. "Really? How so?"

  Luc tossed his napkin on the table, sharing this tidbit wouldn't matter much because if she'd done her homework she would learn it was also a belief of some individuals. "Remember those peons creating deities through thought? The being Satan is a creation of millions of beliefs. Of course, I've been given that title, but Satan has no love of beauty or any benevolence in him."

  "And you do?"

  "Yes. Does my love of art not constitute my love of beautiful things? My goodwill to make sure no harm comes to you in my castle of terrors, or the fact that I tried to save a woman from death many years ago." He could see she wasn't convinced and he'd been a little upset that no spark of memory fired in the depths of her gaze. "Trust me, Miss Matthews, I have done evil things to balance my good, but most of the things you hear I have no merit in. I'm a fallen angel with a lot of glory for things that go wrong in a human's daily life."

  Her lips parted and Luc's gaze drifted down to watch her wet them in preparation of her next question. "You fell from pride." Luc bowed his head slightly, he really didn't want to talk about a day which had been a blur in the back of his mind. He nodded and Andrea chewed on her bottom lip before asking. "So you tried to save a woman. I'm guessing, by the way you said that, she died anyway."

  Luc hated the old sting at how foolish he'd been back then. "Yes, she did. I don't want to discuss it though. The fact I failed has left me a bit raw." She wasn't ready yet, it would be just a story to her, not their past.

  Andrea's eyebrows rose slightly before she nodded. "Okay then. What was Heaven like?"

  "I don't remember. The memory was taken from me."

  Andrea sighed and leaned back in her chair. The wine colored her pink lips and the glow of the overhead light made her tan skin appear smooth to the touch. She seemed more charmed by him the longer she stayed with him. He too became enchanted by her very presence, but he had been since the day they first met. However, his reputation and lifestyle caused her curiosity, not her desire to know him for herself. He had to remember she would use everything he said for her article. This was strictly business to her, and he needed to keep his head on the correct path. Obtaining her soul would be easier if she trusted him.

  "I gotta tell you, Luc. This all sounds like major horse shit." She blushed but didn't apologize for her freedom of speech.

  "What can I do to convince you I'm who I say I am?"

  She shook her head. "You can't. I'm pretty doubtful on all things paranormal."

  "Fire perhaps, out of my palm?"

  Andrea leaned in. "Bring it."

  Luc smirked and held a palm up, a flame of hellfire irrupted in the center and Andrea sat back in shock. After staring at it in awe for a few moments suspicion marked her delicate face. No magic trick would suffice. He didn't want to morph into anything unholy in front of her. He didn't want the evening to end up with her trembling on his marble floors or screaming on the way to her car. He couldn't take her running from him again. He didn't want to lose her. He extinguished the flame and immediately Andrea grabbed his hand in search of any trickery. Her delicate fingers lifted up his cuff, rotated his hand in various degrees. Her touch caused an unexpected jolt to zing through his body.

  "How'd you do it?" she asked, her attention focused on his cufflinks.

  "Magic," he said with a flirty tone.

  She sneered and dropped his hand. Andrea went back to her meal, she poked at the tiramisu and sat brooding at how he'd probably gotten over on her. "That's the oldest trick in the book, but I'm going to figure it out. You guys are messing with me."

  "No, this is real. On my honor."

  "The Devil has no honor." She bristled. "You saying that proves this is a bad hoax. I think I've seen enough. I wish you a goodnight, Mr. Ifer." She rose from his table and made for a hasty retreat. The sashay of her ass pulled a smirk from Luc's mouth. She was tempting him to stop her. The lure of those hips could corrupt a priest. She challenged him, baiting him to show her the truth because she burned for it. Soon he was going to give it all to her.

  "Wait. Demons then, would you care to see a demon in its true form?"

  She halted and turned to face him, irritation furrowing her brows. "I guess you would have animatronics somewhere in the mansion, and you'd want to show me your expensive Hollywood toys. I bet you have everything planned out. Dinner, animatronics, a few magic tricks."

  "No more games. I'll show you. I don't need your article to prove who I am. Those who doubt me are quickly made aware when I want them to be."

  Andrea placed her hands on her hips. "Is that another threat?"

  Luc shook his and leaned back leisurely in his chair. "Of course not. You're so defensive. This is a natural thing for you, I assume." He crossed his arms when she didn't answer him. "Are you uncomfortable around a male you're attracted to?"

  She seemed shocked. "I am not attracted to you."

  Luc smiled. He could feel a lie like the caress of a woman's lips down his spine.

  Andrea glanced at her watch as if she had somewhere else to be. "I suppose a few more minutes of this charade won't kill me. Then, I leav
e."

  Luc scooted back from the table and dropped his napkin on the untouched plate of food. "Of course, I wouldn't want to keep you."

  When they reached the main hall, Luc led her deeper into his mansion. Very few humans made it this far into his home, and if they did, they didn't resurface. He didn't know what that meant for Andrea. He couldn't show her the deeper mysteries of his home and let her walk out unscathed. Yet, he didn't want to hold her prisoner either, even if he did want to claim her soul. Why on Earth did he keep having second thoughts?

  Andrea glanced at all the paintings they passed. Luc had a feeling she liked the reversal depictions of demons trumping angels. They were stunning in their colors and concept, and they held her mesmerized. She paused at the biggest painting in the hall, one ridiculous rendition of a huge, crimson demon with batty wings pleasuring a fair maiden. The haunted painting had been his least favorite in the collection. He found it distasteful in how the artist made the demon a horned creature with a penchant for sex.

  "Wow, it's very…colorful."

  Luc couldn't help but laugh, her eyes scanned every surface of the canvas looking at every small detail that whispered a secret of the world it captured. Her jaw went slack as she peered at the downward strokes that made up the creature's muscled back. He finally focused on the art himself. "It is Sammael and Lilith, one of the first fallen to lust after mortal women. I think it's meant to be an ode to him."

  She narrowed her eyes. "An ode? An ode is a song."

  Luc touched the painting. "I suggest you listen closer, Miss Matthews. It's melodic. In fact, I can never get the damn thing to shut up."

  Andrea turned an ear to the oil painting and furrowed her brow in concentration. Luc knew she'd heard the image's song of sensual echoes when her lush lips parted and she wouldn't meet his eyes.

  "Unbelievable. You have people screwing on the other side of the wall to make me think a painting is making the noise. Where does it end, Mr. Ifer?"