Asta couldn’t help the frustrated noise that escaped her, or her hands that yanked on his hair in an effort to bring his mouth where she desperately wanted it to be. His laugh against the crease of her pelvis was nearly enough to send her over the edge.
“Demanding, aren’t you? Well, I must obey when my angel commands.”
He bent his head, and the skillful flicks of his tongue drove every thought from her mind. When she came, it was like a nor’easter off Lake Michigan, driving and hard, blinding in its fury. She pulled his hair, her hips twisting as tremors rolled through her body.
Before they’d faded, he was a hard length against her, his mouth claiming hers.
“Your turn,” he murmured as he pulled her lip with gentle teeth. “Angel sex. Remember?”
Joining. But how could that ‘satisfying’ activity ever match what he’d just made her feel? Opening her eyes, Asta stared into the gray of his irises, memorizing the sharp lines of his cheekbones and jaw. Then she reached out with her spirit-self and dove into him, feeling their essence merge into a line of translucent white.
Holy shit — shoot. Holy shoot. This was . . . oh, my stars, this was amazing. Every muscle in Dar’s body tensed against her then he relaxed with a moan of pleasure. Flesh. Skin. She tasted his shoulder, working her way up along his neck to the corner of his mouth, digging her teeth hard into the flesh of his lip and all the while plowing her spirit-self into his. He shuddered, his eyes flaring with sparks of red among the silver.
“You are mine,” she told him, tasting him, roving her hands down to grip his ass, feeling him become one with her beyond the flesh.
“Damn straight I am.”
The whole hot length of him pressed her against the scattered clothing, digging her shoulder painfully into a stray hanger. Her breasts were crushed against the strength of his chest, his thighs demanding as they nudged hers apart to settle between them. Dar was all rippling muscle, taut sinew, powerful and sleek as he pressed against her. It drove her to the edge of insanity. She tilted her hips impatiently, feeling his manhood against her thighs.
“Okay, okay, greedy girl,” he teased.
He was up on his elbows, weight partially off her as he began to push himself slowly inside her. Asta’s eyes widened. His thickness stretched her; a tremor rocked like a wave through her body as he paused a few inches in.
“You okay?”
She was more than okay. Shit . . . shoot he was huge, stretching her to the edge and rocketing sensation through her. She pushed her spirit-self into his in return and felt a thrill as his body trembled against hers. She clenched around him, thrusting her hips up.
“You sure?”
“Yes.” Her voice was pissy, impatient, needy. His laugh was a throaty purr as he plunged into her. She reciprocated with her spirit-being, and they moved in rhythm, in and out, in both the physical and spiritual plane.
Everything was sensitive to the utmost degree. Her lips felt full and swollen, her face flushed, her breasts taught against his chest, her sex hot as molten lava. She spread her hands down across his back, digging her fingernails in and dragging them in furrows that surely must have broken the skin. Dar jolted as if he’d been hit by lightning, driving into her with increasing depth and speed, hard and deep, his movements savage.
When she gasped her climax, trembling against him as the waves of her orgasm crashed upon her, she felt him thicken and shudder out his release in time with hers. Their worlds came together. Two million years of meditation and rightful balance were nothing compared to this. Looking into his silver eyes as they both came, feeling the swirl of their spirit-selves joining, it was like two halves forming a whole. Never had she felt so alive. Never had she felt so . . . in love.
Asta awoke on a bed of vintage clothing, a demon by her side. Her breath caught as she remembered her transgressions from the night before. The last few days had been a delicious descent into sin, but last night . . . wow. Physical intercourse with a human was a shameful transgression, but would the sin be worse with a demon? Yes, they were the enemy, but they’d once been angels, and any kind of intimacy among their own kind was permissible. If she worked this around in her mind, it wasn’t the worst thing she’d ever done.
And it had rocked her world. That had to have been the best experience of her life. Nothing in over two-million years had come close.
Dar stirred, and she reached out a hand to smooth his black hair, tracing the intermittent silver strands with her finger. He was so different than the angels who had wooed her in Aaru. All the convoluted posturing and verbal debate vanished in his presence. He cut right to the chase, spoke what he felt, and when he prevaricated, it was somehow a lovely twist to their communication. Her opposite — although maybe there was some overlap between them. Either way, she craved the feel of his arms around her, pinning her to his chest as he drove himself into her warmth.
With a blink, silver-gray eyes met hers. Dar’s muscles contracted. It felt like an undulation along her breasts and torso.
“We have a mage to meet at nine.” His full lips curved up, and his eyes begged her to sin.
“He can wait.”
Chapter 18
“At least one reporter in this town has a sense of humor.” Wyatt thrust the paper at Dar and Asta.
Rat Defeats High-Tech Security and Steals CEO Blind. More interesting was the picture below the bold caption — a large rat gripping a bottle in two front paws.
“Hey, I’m famous! I made the paper.” Dar shoved the picture toward Asta’s face, as if she couldn’t see it clearly before.
“Lovely. I’m just glad no one got a picture of you naked in the hallway, or naked in the alleyway arguing with Wyatt, or naked wrestling with me over the bottle.”
“Oh, baby, that wrestling was about so much more than a paltry bottle.”
Dar leered, his eyes making a slow perusal of Asta’s human form. She hid a smile and pretended to concentrate on the article, secretly wondering whether he approved of the pencil skirt and fitted sleeveless shirt she wore. They went perfectly with the navy patent sandals whose four-inch heels made her tower over the demon.
Today was . . . different. She thought, come the cold light of day, she’d be embarrassed or regret last night’s actions. Instead, she felt like every cell in her body was alive and vibrating, like there were invisible threads that connected her to the demon. Every move he made, each expression that crossed his face registered. She couldn’t be any more aware of him if they were still naked and entwined in each other’s limbs.
Asta shot Dar a surreptitious glance. Was he feeling the same? Better to shove all this into the depths of her mind and concentrate on the issue at hand. Trying to ignore the uncomfortable emotions, she grabbed the paper and read the article.
Crap. Dar had evidently made quite an impression on the housekeeping staff. A giant rat had terrorized them, pushing around an antique bottle and threatening to bite them all before both he and the bottle vanished into the floor drains. Phelps had filed a police report, vowing to catch the thief at any cost. He’d even offered a reward for the capture of the burglar and recovery of his property. The article was written very tongue-in-cheek; the reporter clearly making fun of Phelps. The caption under a crude drawing of Dar asked Has anyone seen this rat? According to him, the police were taking a similar casual attitude toward the crime. It seemed there was more concern about the hotel’s questionable sanitation that allowed rats to roam freely in guest rooms than the stolen item.
“Great.” The angel tossed the paper aside. “How is Carter today? Do you think he knows we were the thieves?”
He had to know. She’d expressed such interest in the bottle, had told him of the genie inside and the danger. Carter might not suspect Dar or Wyatt, but he surely knew she was somehow involved.
“It’s not easy sneaking around his booth. He knows me, and he probably suspects I’m somehow involved.” Wyatt glanced around furtively. “It seems like business as usual. He’s joki
ng with clients and staff, handing out copies of Ouroboros. I get the feeling he’s nervous, like he’s watching for something to happen.”
Dar shrugged. “What’s he going to do? He’s a human. He doesn’t know where the bottle is, or have any proof as to who took it. He filed a police report; he could try to break into Wyatt’s or my hotel room. Other than that, he’s pretty close to checkmate.”
Asta glanced toward the booth, several rows away, and felt a pang of guilt for betraying the man who’d trusted her enough to tell her about his childhood. “I can’t imagine he’d be planning a little robbery of his own. I’m sure he’s upset over the loss of his grandmother’s antique.” And he probably hates me. The thought made her feel almost sick.
“He can rob my place all he wants,” Wyatt said. “All he’ll get is some dirty laundry and a six-pack of Budweiser.”
“Budweiser?” Dar punched Wyatt’s shoulder good-naturedly. “I thought you techie guys all drank some kind of emo craft beer.”
Asta ignored them. The mage should arrive soon, but she was feeling really uneasy about the whole thing, and horribly guilty about Carter. Wyatt could hardly get close to the man, and Carter and Dar weren’t likely to exchange much information without fists involved. That left her.
She snagged a tote bag from a nearby booth and wandered, adding various brochures before making her way to Genus Micro.
“Hey.” She smiled at Carter, trying to gauge his mood.
“Hey to you, too.” His return smile was stiff, anger and betrayal in his eyes.
He blamed her. This whole thing was a nightmare. “Look, I didn’t mean for this to happen. Remember when you were talking about the greater good? I’ll return it as soon as it’s safe. I just couldn’t risk that thing getting out.”
It was really awkward trying to have this conversation in a booth full of convention attendees who were listening. Carter must have realized too. He put a stack of brochures on a nearby table and looked down at her, his blue eyes flinty. “It’s a busy day, and there are tons of distractions. Let’s take this conversation somewhere more private.”
There wasn’t a suggestive hint in his comment, and the Carter she knew would never threaten violence, but Asta felt the hair rise on the back of her neck. He was angry, and he had every right to be, but there was a hardness about him that hadn’t been there before. “Where should we go?”
“The café next door? It should be quiet this time of day.”
A human would be no threat to her, but something about him today was making her skin crawl.
“Sure.”
He took her arm, and she winced at his firm grip. Maybe she had been wrong about him. She admitted to being naïve and having a trusting nature. There was a chance she’d only seen the best in Carter and had overlooked this angry man whose fingers were digging into her flesh as he led her through the convention center. Had Dar been right about this human? And if she was blind to Carter’s nature and motivations, perhaps she’d been blind to Dar’s too.
No. Not Dar. He might be as sly as any other rat, but he’d never hurt her. He cared about her.
Carter let go of her arm as they entered the empty café. After serving them chai lattes, the barista vanished to the far corner with a book. Phelps did seem different. His pleasantries lacked the warmth and energy they’d had previously.
“I know you’re the thief, no doubt assisted by your boyfriend.”
He’d cut right to the heart of the matter. Asta winced. Wait, boyfriend? Oh sheesh, he meant Dar.
“I’ll return it; I promise. We’ll have the genie out of the bottle by tonight, and I’ll bring it back to you.”
Phelps snorted. “Don’t give me that bullshit. I checked out this Dar character. He’s not who he says he is, and I’m willing to bet you’re not either. Rwandan voodoo-exorcist, my ass. Who are you really?”
I’m an angel didn’t seem like a response that would go over particularly well. “I swear on my eternal salvation that I’ll give you the bottle back. This genie is dangerous, and I can’t take the risk that you’ll accidentally let it out. I’ve no idea what type of demon it is, but it’s old and powerful, and it’s going to be angry when it gets out. I didn’t want to do this to you, honestly, but thousands of lives, maybe even more, are at stake.”
“You stole from me, Asta. Stole. I trusted you. I let you into my hotel room, let you into my heart, and you stole something that’s precious to me. It’s one of the only things I have to remember my grandmother by.”
She felt nearly sick with guilt. Maybe they’d been mistaken. Maybe Carter hadn’t made any wishes, wasn’t completing the contract with the demon at all. What if they’d just stolen something sentimental from a man who’d gotten his act together the latter part of his senior year and put together a wildly successful company? Humans had done that so many times before.
And she would have believed him, except for that little nagging part of her mind that screamed otherwise. It was time to dig a little and find out who Carter Phelps really was.
“Carter, you know what’s in that bottle as well as I do. That first wish involved your schooling and grades, and the second wish involved the success of your company. You’re entitled to make your own ethical decision, and I have no problem with you profiting, but that leaves only one more wish. One little slip, one moment of desperation, and the genie is out of the bottle. I can’t allow that abomination to walk the earth, destroying countless lives.”
The tables were turned, and now it was Phelps’s turn to plead ignorance. “There is nothing in that bottle. My grandparents got it on an expedition in Turkey. Six hundred years ago it held cooking oil, but there’s nothing in it now.”
He was speaking the truth. Asta squirmed, realizing he believed the bottle was just a pretty artifact. Darn it all. His success was either honest, or he’d made the wishes accidently, unaware of the repercussions. She’d hurt him; she’d betrayed his trust and it ate at her soul
“It’s not oil, and it’s not empty. Maybe you weren’t aware of what you were doing when you made those wishes, or maybe you didn’t make any at all. Either way, I can’t take the chance you’ll release the genie.”
Phelps stared at her with disturbing intentness. “It’s mine, Asta. My Grandmother gave it to me. I promised you I wouldn’t make any wishes, but you stole it anyway.”
“I had to, Carter. Can’t you see that?” Asta pounded a fist on the table in frustration then lowered her voice as she saw the barista look up at her. “The original sorcerer who put him in there had the ability to banish him back to Hel. You don’t, and if that genie gets out, he’ll kill you first then move on to others. I know you want your memento back, but I have to make sure it’s safe first.”
“Then teach me how to banish the genie if he gets out. Return the bottle to me, and I’ll assure you the demon will be banished if he accidently gets out.”
“No. One misdrawn rune, one slip in your pronunciation and it’s all over. I can’t take that risk.”
“This isn’t your business,” Carter snarled. “Who do you think you are to go stealing my possessions, claiming to be saving the world from demons? You’re crazy, and you’re a thief. And if you had the slightest bit of kindness in you, if you were half the woman I thought you were, you’ll return the bottle.”
“I’m sorry.”
Phelps’ hands clutched the tablecloth. “Right. Let me tell you exactly what’s going to happen, because I’m onto your little game. This expert you’ve called in somehow won’t be able to get the genie out, so you’ll need to confiscate it for all of eternity — which will be as long as it takes you to sell it on the black market. You’re a thief, a lying thief, and I can’t believe I ever trusted you.”
The man got up and stormed out of the café. Asta pushed the latte away, buried her head in her hands, and fought back her tears. How could she have screwed this up so badly? The only thing to do now was soldier on and do everything in her power to make this right. Carter ma
y never forgive her, but she’d make darned sure he and all the other humans in her city were safe.
“Holy Goddess on high, how did someone do this?”
Kirby’s exclamation wasn’t causing them to have any degree of confidence in his ability to perform this task. Dar had his doubts when the mage had first arrived and spent nearly thirty minutes gawking at Asta. True, Kirby had probably never seen an angel before, but his open awe didn’t do much to solidify his reputation.
Dar felt a bit guilty — that he’d brought the mage over on this fool’s errand, and that he’d failed Asta. So much for impressing her with his connections in Hel. If only Gareth, an actual sorcerer-level magic user, could have been convinced to make the journey. Although, there was no guarantee he’d know what to do with this bottle either.
“There’s really a demon in there?” The mage held a long crystal near the bottle, squinting as it glowed. “How does he fit? Is he in the form of an insect, or a single-cell life form, or something?”
“He’s without corporeal form. The bottle is magically charged to hold him in that state until he performs the service he was summoned to do. Then he’s free to assume a physical form.”
For fuck sake, he shouldn’t have to explain this to Kirby. His sister had told her this man was good, that he could deliver. Dar was beginning to doubt her judgment — at least when it came to magic users.
“I thought you guys died when you didn’t have a physical form. That’s what the elves always taught us.”
Dar gritted his teeth in exasperation. “Not always. Can you break the spell? We need to release him from the bottle and send him back to Hel.”
Demons & Djinn: Nine Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Novels Featuring Demons, Djinn, and other Bad Boys of the Underworld Page 46
