by Larissa Ione
Sexy bared her fangs—fangs Suzanne hadn’t inherited from their fallen angel father. “You’re a foolish little girl sometimes, sister.” She brushed past Suzanne with enough force to knock her into the wall as Sexy left to tend to Declan.
Suzanne cursed softly and flashed herself outside the security fence, assuming that the malevolent being couldn’t cross the angelic threshold. But she’d only taken a few steps along the perimeter when the evil vibration faded. Dammit. A car cruised past, its lights blinding her momentarily as she pondered her next move.
Check on Declan.
Unsure where he might be, she re-entered the property through the gate so she wouldn’t flash inside and materialize in front of Declan or something.
She hurried through the house to the backyard, but Declan was gone. Panic fluttered in the pit of her stomach, turning her dinner sour. He wasn’t in the kitchen, the den, or the family room, and just as she started to call out for him, Sexy rounded the corner.
“He’s in his bedroom,” she said, as if she hadn’t just called Suzanne an idiot. “He’s got a pretty bad headache. I gave him a couple aspirin.”
Suzanne froze. “A headache? And you left him alone?”
“It’s just a headache.”
“It’s not just a headache! That’s how this demon attacks.” She darted to the kitchen, Sexy on her heels. “I’m going to call Cipher and find out why the demon could affect Declan through the angelic veil around the house. Will you stay with him for a few minutes?”
“Of course.” Sexy hurried toward the staircase as Suzanne located her cell phone.
Cipher was on speed dial, and she had him on the line in under five seconds. “Talk to me, baby angel.”
“Stop calling me that,” she sighed, knowing it was pointless to protest. He’d been calling her that since the day he’d shown up in Sheoul-gra, dragged there in chains by Hawkyn. Worse, it had caught on and several of her brothers and sisters called her that now.
“Sure thing,” he said, just like every time she protested. “Whatcha need?”
“I need to know why the demon that’s after Declan was able to affect him from outside the mansion’s perimeter.”
There was a slight pause. “That shouldn’t happen. Hold on.” The sound of clacking keyboard keys and cell phone alerts filled her ear for what seemed like hours but was probably only a couple of minutes. Finally, Cipher came back on the line. “Okay, it looks like the enchantment that was installed stops most remote attacks, but with others it merely filters out the worst of it. Is Declan all right?”
“I think so. I just wish we knew why the demon is after him.”
“Do you think it knows he’s Primori? Maybe it’s hunting them specifically.”
She thought about that for a minute. “I don’t think so. When we fought, Morroc seemed surprised by my presence. If he knew Declan was Primori, he’d know about Memitim.”
It would be helpful to know why Declan was Primori, too, but Memitim were never given that information. They were important enough to merit angelic guardians, and yet their guardians were forced to do their jobs with one wing tied behind their backs.
Assuming they had wings.
“Where is Declan now?” Cipher asked.
“In his room with Sexy. I’m about to go check on him.”
“Cool,” he said. “Let me know if you need anything else. I’ll be here kicking zombie ass.”
Suzanne said good-bye to the video-game loving fallen angel and hung up. She started for Declan’s room, but she didn’t want to appear too concerned, so she reversed course, went to the kitchen and loaded a tray with dessert.
Sexy was just coming out of his room as Suzanne approached. “He’s fine,” Sexy said in a low voice. “The headache is gone. But he’s grumpy as hell. Doesn’t like being fussed over.”
“You fussed over him?” Suzanne hoped the sudden sting of jealousy didn’t make its way into her voice. “You, who once told our brother Maddox to stop whining over a broken leg?”
Sexy huffed. “We heal quickly. And he was whining.” She eyed the tray in Suzanne’s hands. “Only two dishes? Guess I don’t count?”
“There’s more in the fridge, and aren’t you leaving anyway?”
Another huff. “Yes. But you know how much I love your desserts. And having you serve me them.” Sexy gave Suzanne a mischievous wink. “I’ll come by tomorrow after my Primori rounds. See ya.”
She grinned and dematerialized, which she knew she wasn’t supposed to do with Declan in the house unless there was an emergency. What if he’d opened the bedroom door just then and saw her disappear? It was a good thing there were no cameras inside the house. For some reason, angels were only worried about the outside. They probably couldn’t comprehend of a situation in which something could get past their security measures to get inside.
In any case, Suzanne was going to give her sister a serious dressing down tomorrow, which would probably go about as well as it had when she’d put her foot down tonight.
Shifting the tray into one hand, she rapped lightly on Declan’s door, and at his shout of “Come in,” she entered.
He was lounging on the couch in the sitting area, his long legs draped over one armrest, his head propped up on the other. When he saw her, he sat up and swung his feet onto the floor.
“Hey.” He raked his hand through his hair, leaving it delightfully mussed. “Sorry I bailed on dinner. I swear it wasn’t a statement about your cooking.”
“I know,” she said, closing the door behind her. “Sexy said you got a sudden headache. Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” He blew out an exasperated breath. “I’ve been getting them a lot lately. Doctor says they’re cluster headaches, but the weird thing is that they only last a few minutes. Sometimes just a few seconds. I’m starting to think I have a brain tumor.”
“Well, I have something that’s guaranteed to make you feel better.” She put down the tray on the coffee table next to a pile of comic books. She’d seen several boxes of the things when she’d checked out his apartment once, but she’d assumed they were a childhood keepsake. Apparently not. “Do you like strawberries?”
“They’re my favorite fruit.”
“Then you’re going to love this.” She handed him a glass dish piled high with strawberries in a black pepper and balsamic vinegar reduction.
“Looks fancy.”
“It’s another one of my favorites. Simple, but tastes like it took a long time to make.”
She watched him take a spoonful of the sliced fruit and plenty of sauce. He moaned, closed his eyes, and his expression of pure male ecstasy made her breasts tingle and her panties grow damp. Oh, to see that same look on his face during sex...she shivered with female appreciation.
“Damn, this is good,” he purred. “Do you make these dishes on your cooking show?”
“I did the spaghetti and strawberry dessert three shows ago.” She grinned. “I always tell viewers that if they cook the dishes while they’re watching my video, they’ll get the effect from the food that I intend.”
One blond eyebrow climbed up his forehead. “Effect?”
She nodded. “Every episode has a theme. Last month, the theme was mood enhancing meals that fight depression. I had nearly a hundred emails from people who made my Chicken Angel Alfredo while they watched the show, and they said that when they ate it, even as leftovers, they experienced amazing positive feelings that lasted an entire day.”
The skepticism in his expression didn’t bother her at all. She knew what she was saying sounded loony, but she really could transmit her energy through the food and the video. It was one of her special angel talents, and it was one of the reasons angels weren’t supposed to be filmed or recorded speaking without a damned good reason. Heavenly influence on large populations was usually forbidden, although it had been used not long ago on a worldwide scale in order to convince humans that the recent near-apocalypse was caused by a virus, terrorism, and human panic rather th
an demons.
Declan finished his strawberries and set the dish down. “And what theme did you use for the Spaghetti all’Amatriciana and balsamic strawberries episode?”
She hoped she wasn’t blushing, but she could definitely feel a tingle of heat in her cheeks. “Spice and sensuality. I told viewers that if they made the dishes while watching my show, they’d experience the most amazing physical reactions.”
“Sexual reactions?” The way he said it, low and smoky, hit her right in the ovaries.
“For some.” Somehow she managed to not sound breathless. “Others will merely feel warm and fuzzy.”
Amusement curved the corners of his mouth. “Sexy food. I like it.” He stretched out his long legs and shifted to get more comfortable. “So what happens when you make the dishes?”
When she cooked, her mood infused the food with energy, which was why she never cooked for others when she was angry or sad. One time she’d made the mistake of baking cookies for the Memitim cafeteria in Sheoul-gra when she was furious, and the result was a full day of fistfights. On another occasion when she’d held a pity party for herself, she’d made brownie trifle, Trefoil cheesecake bites, and pecan pie but forgot to warn others not to eat it. As a result, nearly two dozen of her brothers and sisters spent hours broken down in tears.
Since then, she’d only prepared food when she was feeling upbeat, which was almost always. She was, by nature, a positive person, and it took a lot to bring her down.
“When I cook, people can taste the love I put into it,” she said simply. It was something her human grandmother used to say, and Suzanne had always believed she could taste her grandma’s love in every bite. She eyed him as he watched her. “So you know one of my passions. Tell me one of yours.”
There was a naughty glint in the steel gray of his eyes that made her breath catch as he slowly leaned toward her. His gaze held hers, keeping her utterly frozen in place. When those firm, full lips opened to speak, she dug her fingernails into her palms in hopes that the pain would prevent her from doing something stupid, like kissing him.
His voice was rich, dark, and as silky as an angel’s feathers. “One of my greatest passions is between your legs.”
Suzanne nearly choked on her own spit. “W-what?”
His gaze dropped to her thighs, and she looked down...to see that she’d sat on one of his comic books.
“Seriously?” She pulled the comic book out from under her. “These are your passion?”
“Some people cook,” he said with a shrug, “and some people relax with comic books and graphic novels.”
She scowled at the cover of the book in her hand. The Flash. The top comic in the stack on the coffee table was Nightwing. Now the decor in his apartment made sense. She’d popped in a time or two, telling herself it was to learn everything she could about her Primori, but aside from a bunch of action figures and military artwork, his place had been starkly minimalist. But he did have a lot of those superhero figures and boxes of comics.
“There’s something for everyone.” He ruffled through the stack and tossed some, one by one, onto the couch next to her. “Transformers, The Walking Dead, Star Trek, Suicide Squad, Demonica, The Avengers.”
Hawkyn would love the Star Trek ones. Wait...had he said Demonica? Curious, she sifted through the comics and plucked a Demonica from the pile. Every angel in existence was aware of this particular series, and most of them wanted to put those responsible in chains. Or worse.
Fortunately for those responsible, their identities hadn’t yet become known. The most popular theory involved angels, but almost as popular was the idea that at least one of the authors was a human demon slayer.
Suzanne had yet to form an opinion, but if the Demonica authors were angels, she had to admire their audacity. They were putting Heavenly and demonic secrets out there on display for humans to see, and if their identities ever got out, they could face imprisonment, torture, and maybe even lose their wings.
“That’s a good one.” Declan gestured to the Demonica comic in her hand. “It’s set in an alternate reality in which demons exist, but most humans don’t know about them. And there’s an international agency called The Aegis that hunts demons. They’re the good guys. Mostly. You should give it a try. There are angels, were creatures, vampires... There’s even a hospital that treats demons.”
“This is crazy,” she said as she flipped through the colorful pages.
“Well, it is fiction. But if it’s too much, you could try a classic, like Superman or Wonder Woman.”
“No, it’s not that. I’d actually like to read some of these Demonica ones. It’s just crazy how far comics have come. I grew up with Archie and Alley Oop.”
“Alley Oop?” He whistled under his breath. “You didn’t grow up in Africa. You grew up in a time warp.”
Crap. She really had to be more careful about the things she said. “What can I say? They didn’t have a lot of comic book stores where I lived.”
“If you want I can take you to one so you can pick up some back issues of Demonica.”
“I’d like that.” She set the comic down. “Tomorrow?”
“Whenever you want. You’re the client.”
She smiled, but she didn’t like the reminder that she was deceiving him. Yes, it was for his own good, but she’d never liked lying to people she cared about. And she did care about him. Too much.
She gathered the dessert dishes on the tray and stood. “Well, I’d better let you rest. How’s your head feeling?”
“It’s all better.” He gave her a sexy, playful smile that made her want to find an excuse to stay. “Must have been your spicy strawberries.”
If anything, her strawberries would make him feel upbeat and maybe a little amorous—things she’d felt while cooking.
“I don’t think so, but you just gave me the idea to do a ‘healing foods’ episode for one of my upcoming shows.”
“Glad to help.”
She headed toward the doorway. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
He beat her to the door and held it open for her. “Thank you again for dinner.”
“Of course.”
As she brushed past him, relishing the feel of his skin on hers, he cleared his throat. “If you hear noises in the middle of the night, don’t panic. It’s just me patrolling.”
She nearly dropped the tray despite his warning about not panicking. “You don’t need to do that,” she said hastily. The last thing she wanted him to do was venture outside the fence, which would take him beyond the border of the protective ward. “I mean, I’d at least feel better if you stayed inside the house.”
He looked at her like she’d grown another head, but he nodded. “I can keep an eye on the perimeter with the monitors in the security office, if that’s what you want.”
“Yes, thank you.” She started out of the room, but at the last moment, Declan grabbed her arm, halting her in her tracks.
“Suzanne?” His voice was soft, but his intelligent gaze was hard as steel, and she resisted the urge to shiver. “Is there...anything I should know?”
Startled by the question and the suspicion in his tone, she swallowed. Hard. “Like what?”
“I don’t know.” He released her, which should have made her feel better, but the truth was that she liked it when he touched her, no matter why he was doing it. “I just get the feeling there’s something you’re not telling me.”
“Maybe,” she said lightly, her attempt at trying to deflect, “I’m just a private person with an air of mystery.”
He smiled, completely disarming her. “Okay, mystery lady. I’m going to shower and then make rounds.” Stepping back, he ushered her the rest of the way out. “I’ll see you later.”
The door clicked shut behind her, and she blew out a breath of relief. He was mollified for now, but she had a feeling he didn’t miss much, and it was going to be harder and harder to explain the weirdness that surrounded her life.
But for now, he
was safe, and ultimately, that was all that mattered.
* * * *
Declan had no idea what was up with Suzanne, but he knew very well what was up with him.
Namely, his dick.
Damn, but the woman was hell on his libido. Or maybe it was the food. Spicy, sexy food. It was ridiculous, of course, but his errant cock didn’t think so. Besides, those strawberries had been incredible. Sweet and peppery, with the slightest tang. Unexpected, just like Suzanne.
Who was hiding something. He’d bet his comic book collection on it. But what?
So yes, there was an air of mystery about her, but as for her other claim, that she was a private person? Bullshit. She was the type of woman who wore her emotions like her expensive-ass jewelry, on display for everyone to see.
His cell rang, and he cursed as he picked up the phone. “’Sup, Ian.”
“Just checking to make sure everything’s okay and that you haven’t collapsed or some shit. You know, from mild dehydration.”
Declan was never going to fucking live that down. “Yeah, I’m good. I was just getting ready to take a shower, so if I’m lucky, I’ll just collapse and drown. That’ll take care of the dehydration issue.”
Tag snorted. “Just keep in touch. Let me know if you need anything. I can send over the Culligan man.”
“Hilarious.”
On the other end of the line, Tag laughed and hung up, leaving Declan to utter curses as he stripped and got into the luxurious shower.
The hot water fell like rain from the giant, ceiling mounted rain shower head above and the six body sprays on the walls. He’d like to say that the fixtures, including a panel that allowed him to program each of the sprays, as well as the water temperature and flow, were overkill, but really, he could hang out in this thing all day long.
The stall was also large enough for five people, but he’d be happy with just one more. His mind took him instantly to Suzanne, who would look perfectly at home bent over, clutching the teak bench as the body sprays misted water on her breasts and thighs. He pictured himself on his knees behind, licking water off her ass—fuck you, Tag, I wouldn’t be dehydrated anymore—working his way in, until his tongue found the sweet spot between her legs that made her moan.
