by Sam Cheever
Myra nodded and turned, spreading her beautiful wings and taking off. I watched the play of colors over her wings, stared at the way they swayed in powerful arcs as she split the night sky at an unnatural speed and found myself teetering on my feet.
Dialle caught me when I almost fell. It occurred to me that I hadn’t slept or eaten for a couple of days. My eyes suddenly wouldn’t stay open.
My father gave Dialle the eye. “See her safely home and leave her to her rest.” His gaze was very stern and Dialle got the picture. No funny business.
Damn!
Dialle swung me into his arms and I suddenly found myself locked in space and time. He lowered me down until something wonderfully soft touched my back.
I settled down into my bed with a sigh.
Dialle pulled my boots off and folded the covers over me.
He touched a lingering kiss to my forehead. “Sleep well, Astra. And when you wake I’ll help you get rid of those giant panties.”
Half asleep, I grinned, followed by a jarring moment of fear that sometime during all my fighting and crashing somebody might have seen the giant white granny panties. Specifically someone named Emo. Fortunately, in the end the thought wasn’t horrifying enough to keep me awake.
With a happy sigh, I tumbled into the arms of Morpheus. Granny panties and all.
~SC~
I was in the woods again, under a fat moon. The clouds were skittering across the face of it at an accelerated rate, as if they were agitated. In fact the general feeling of the place was one of apprehension and dark anticipation.
Part of me wanted to stop walking. To turn around and leave the wood. But another part of me needed to face whatever was coming so that I had a better chance of beating it back.
I reached the place where the trees thinned into nothing and stood there, just at the edge, feeling my heart pounding in my chest. The air around me pulsed with the deep base of my heartbeats.
Ba boom, ba boom, ba boom, ba boom...
The reverberation grew until it became the thunderous sound of hundreds of witches chanting and I suddenly knew with a clarity that came from true vision what I would see when I entered that clearing.
It was all I could do to step through the last line of trees.
The crowd of witches was pressed tightly together, swaying with the rhythm of their chants. They were faceless, formless, creatures of the night. Purveyors of an evil so profound that it couldn’t bear a human face.
They stood shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip in the small clearing, filling it completely. From the altar in the center to the black line of dense trees at the clearing’s edge, the space was filled to capacity.
Somehow, however, a pathway opened for me and I walked through the crowd unimpeded, without being touched by any of the dark celebrants. When the last line of witches parted for me and I could see the altar I was not surprised to see myself on it.
Like before, I wasn’t alone.
I was naked, on my back and entwined in obvious pleasure around a long, lean golden body with silky black hair that fell in soft curls and waves around a darkly whiskered face which was nuzzling my neck and therefore hidden from my view.
Though I couldn’t see the velvet of his black gaze or the finely chiseled planes of his well-formed face, I felt as if I knew that long, golden form like I knew myself.
We writhed and moaned upon the altar, our passion obvious to all who watched. I smiled at the sight and silently celebrated its passage through the pages of prophecy.
There was movement above the altar and I glanced up to find nearly transparent forms of silver floating above our heads. The angels’ gentle heads were bowed as if they were in pain and their hands clutched, clawlike, at their shimmery gowns.
There was a trail of silver liquid down their nearly transparent faces.
Angel’s tears.
Shed only for the most catastrophic of events.
My gaze flew to the spot where I knew my aunt would be.
Her robes covered her from head to toe and only a single dark red lock of hair fell from the front of the hood and rested across her breast in a soft curl. Her arms had been upraised in supplication to the dark purpose but she lowered them and reached to push back her hood.
My Aunt Deirdre’s face emerged from the dark, rough cloth.
I suddenly found myself standing before her.
She stood in royal robes at the center of the clearing, the rough robes gone. A gentle moonbeam illuminated her form but not her face.
“Why?” My voice was filled with tears and it made me angry. Tears were a weakness I could not afford.
The form shrugged the hood of the lush robe back and the face that was revealed seemed to waver between my Aunt Deirdre’s and my mother’s.
She shook her head and raised her hands toward me. I looked for the teardrop mark on her wrist but it was gone.
“Why do I still dream of this?” I asked her, fear a writhing snake in my gut.
She shrugged, “The prophecy has not yet been fulfilled.”
I gasped, remembering the touch of hard, sexy lips and the delicious roll of hips that rocked my world. “You lie!”
She shook her head, sending the reddish black strands swinging gently around her narrow shoulders. “Prophecy does not lie.”
“But it can’t be!”
She faded away from me, her constantly altering face like a kaleidoscope in a viewer.
“No! Come back. It has to be a mistake!”
I sat bolt upright in my bed and discovered that I was sweaty and panting.
My terrified gaze flew around the room until I realized I was safe in my own bed and it had only been a dream.
Or had it.
I flung the covers back and headed into my food service area to make coffee.
My father was waiting for me there.
He handed me a steaming cup and I sipped gratefully, watching him over the cup. “How are you doing today, Father?”
He smiled, reaching out to tap me on the end of my nose with one long finger. “I’m fine, child.”
“Good.”
“I came to tell you that you will be getting a new guardian.”
My eyes flew open in shock. “What! No! What’s happened to Myra? Is she okay?”
He shook his head. “She’s fine. He just reassigned her that’s all.”
I frowned. “But why?”
My father shook his head. “He’s found someone who He thinks needs her more. Someone very special who needs an extremely firm hand. In fact,” he cocked his head at me, “He told me to tell you the name. He thought you’d understand.”
“Okay, what’s the name?”
“It’s a little girl by the name of Suzie O’Connell.”
I frowned, trying to remember. The name did seem familiar. Then suddenly a picture scrolled itself across my mind of a dark hallway, a little girl, a little boy and a chastening voice that brought out a sparkle of mischief in the little girl’s eye rather than the fear that should have been there.
I started laughing. I laughed so hard in fact that I had to sit down before I fell.
My father watched me carefully as if I’d lost my mind. But I didn’t care.
It was hysterical.
And I wasn’t at all sure who I was rooting for, the cranky angel or the impish Catholic girl.
But somehow I knew they were both in for the fight of their lives.
And I couldn’t wait to see it play itself out.
After my father left I headed for the cleansing tube, planning out my day in my mind. I had much to do to clean up the details of the mess my mother’s plotting had left behind. And I needed to find Raoul. Despite what my father had said I knew he needed me. Even if all I could offer him was a willing ear and a sturdy shoulder. And I needed to find out what had happened to all those people at the mall. PC Cheets would need to be updated. I needed to follow up on the Coltrans...and both covens...
I ordered the jets of the cleansing tube
on full, one hundred and three degrees and stood gratefully under the pounding heat. My mind continued to churn through my to do list and I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that when I stepped out of the tube and a square golden hand reached toward me with a heated towel I jumped and gave a less than manly yelp of surprise.
“I didn’t sneak.” Dialle said with a spark in each, blue eye. “I shimmered right into plain view. You just weren’t paying attention.”
I spurned the towel and stomped to the drying tube, working very hard at ignoring him. But he wasn’t to be ignored. I soon found myself one of two in the warm luxury of the tube.
He pulled me full length against his long, lean body and wrapped one, large hand around my left buttock to hold me there. He sighed into my nearly dry hair. “I’ve been dreaming about those giant panties.”
I grinned. “Too bad I already took them off.”
His lips curved against my hair and suddenly we were in my bed. “Luckily I have more on hand.”
I looked down and grinned. A fresh pair bloomed at my waist. “I think I’d like them in fire red.”
They were red.
“Or maybe black.”
He peaked a dark eyebrow and made them black. “There’s something deeply wrong with the concept of black granny panties, Astra.”
I smiled. “It’s all in how you look at it, Dialle.”
He skimmed his warm hand over my stomach and lower, causing me to shiver in anticipation. One long finger slid under the thin, elastic waistband and moved toward the part of my body that throbbed hopefully beneath the yards of black cotton cloth. “I’m willing to explore this option, my princess.”
“Don’t call me that.” I said on a moan as the unnatural heat of that finger found my happy place.
He placed soft, full lips over my daemon hickey and gently sucked. The finger slid lower, into my waiting heat. “You can deny it all you want, Astra but you are my princess.”
I sighed. “Bite me.”
And he did. Gently.
Then he proceeded to illustrate just how very much he liked my black granny panties.
I decided maybe I’d never wear my tiny lace thongs again.
Ever.
The End
I hope you enjoyed Bedeviled & Bedazzled. But wait, you’re not done! Here’s a taste of Book 3 in the Bedeviled & Beyond series, Bedeviled & Beleaguered!
CHAPTER ONE
Girls’ Night Out?
Into the demon’s lair she goes, to find a surly miss,
But what she finds cannot be true...A devil dating sis?
Of all the things I thought I’d be doing that night, rescuing my magic-phobic sister, Darma, from a group of “enthusiastic” admirers at the demon nightclub Castle Gregg, was not one of them.
Obviously I was surprised when I got the summons from Dialle. It was a toss-up over whether I was most surprised by the fact that he knew my sister was at Castle Gregg and the fact that she was there at all.
Darma’s older than me by five years. She’d served as both sister and mother to me throughout my childhood. Since our real mother had led a busy and secretive life, which apparently hadn’t been entirely compatible with her role as a mother, Darma’s inclination toward mothering had worked out fine for everybody but me. She’d always felt it was within her rights to tell me how to live my life. And she’d always been dead set against the use of magic, in all its forms.
Darma’s the sturdy, serious, dependable daughter. I’m the hot-headed, passionate and borderline psychotic spawn. I’m the dark side of a pairing between a devil and an angel. Darma is the cranky and all-too-serious, but light side. It’s always been an accepted fact in my family that Darma has no powers and, with her size nine feet resolutely planted on terra firma, she appears to have a severe allergy to all things unearthly and magical.
Which is why it was more than strange to hear she was cavorting with all manner of magical creatures.
I dropped the Viper into hover on the street just outside Castle Gregg and climbed out, sending it skyward with a command. Engaging the security system, I started across the moat bridge to the castle.
The doors of the place stood open to emit some of the noise, light and smoke from the packed bar. An array of ugly demons and not so ugly humans mingled in the doorway and on the bridge. I pushed my way through them, cringing away from the grasping, wormlike appendages on some of the demons’ heads.
I could see the demons in their true form. Humans saw only the mask the demons wanted them to see. Which was generally very pretty. So humans, if they even knew they were interacting with demons at all, thought demons were exceptionally pretty creatures.
Humans have an abundance of good traits. Their inability to see true evil when it’s licking a long, warty tongue up the length of their throats is not one of them.
I shoved my way through the door and immediately started looking for my sister. The crush of bodies in the cavernous place made that task all but impossible.
A few months back, Castle Gregg’s principle competitor, Demonica, had been burned to the ground by the Royal Devils in a pissing contest between the two dark factions. Castle Gregg was definitely reaping the benefits of that battle.
I decided it would be easier just to ask Dialle where she was. I stopped trying to push my way aimlessly through the crowd and concentrated my efforts inward. Dialle.
Astra, my love. Dance with me. Hot breath caressed the back of my neck, followed quickly by the feather-soft touch of lips. I jumped and then sighed as his arms came around me from behind and our bodies melted together almost without a thought.
We stood swaying gently to the music, which had somehow gone from ceiling-beam-quivering laser rock to loin-tingling romantic. Within the space of a single heartbeat.
Did you do that? His lips nuzzled the curve of my ear, followed by gentle nibbling.
What good is being a Royal Prince if there are no perks.
I grinned. Is that one of the perks I’m feeling against my backside?
Definitely.
Suddenly Dialle stiffened and sighed. Things worsen. We are needed.
We left the plane of sound and movement and drifted for a moment, returning to chaos in the midst of a scene that was guaranteed to strip a few years from my life.
Darma was sitting crossways in a chair, with a very ugly demon underneath her. His treelike black arms were wrapped around her waist, pinning her arms to her sides, and he was grinning in a not very nice way.
Torre, Dialle’s younger and less powerful brother stood directly in front of the demon, slim shoulders squared, and lean, muscular legs spread. His hands reached forward and slightly to his sides, palms upward. His face was nearly purple with outrage.
Darma looked as if she was ready to pee herself.
I fervently wished I could communicate with her telepathically, but I had to settle for Dialle. What’s going on?
The demon is taunting Torre. He uses his feelings for your sister against him.
Feelings? What feelings? I slid my gaze to Dialle, my mind bursting with questions I didn’t have time to ask.
He shook his head. I’ll explain later.
Why doesn’t he just explode the ugly sucker and grab Darma back?
It’s complex. You know how your sister feels about magic?
I scrunched up my nose and nodded. I see your point.
Torre is incapable of defeating the demon without using his powers and if he uses his powers Darma will never speak to him again.
I recognize this dilemma, I’ve been living it all my life.
Yes.
So what can we do? Should I blast the demon for him?
Dialle looked horrified. No, you must not! If you have to save your sister Torre will look weak in her eyes.
I blew out a breath in frustration. Then what?
I do not know. I’m thinking.
I crossed my arms under my breasts and scowled at the ugly demon. He laughed, apparently thinking he had us over a barre
l. Actually he kind of did.
How about if I slip up behind him and tag him. Then Torre can grab Darma while I have him distracted and give him a power-induced punch in the nose.
Dialle thought about my suggestion for a moment. I’ll create a distraction.
I melted back into the crowd, forcing myself not to look at my sister’s terrified face or the way her blue eyes widened when she saw me leaving. Since I’m barely five feet tall, it’s pretty easy for me to become invisible. I worked my way around to a spot where I figured I was behind the demon and then pushed through the crowd until I was standing close to his table.
He was sitting with three other demons.
As I was deciding the best way to handle his friends, one of them caught the sharp end of a power jolt and flew backward into the crowd, chair and all.
I reached out and shot a quiet jolt into the one closest to me and he slumped over, unconscious. Dialle blasted the third one away from the table before he could do more than lumber to his feet.
That left only the one holding Darma hostage. Before he could react, I reached out and placed the palm of my hand over the front of his throat and sent my power into him. He choked as his breath was cut off and started to struggle against my power. He released my sister and tried to grab his throat.
Torre grabbed Darma’s arm and yanked her away.
I let go of the demon’s throat and ducked as my sister spun around and Torre pounded a suspiciously powerful fist into the demon’s ugly mug.
Knowing what was coming my way, I scurried away as fast as I could on my hands and knees, but the demon still landed on my legs. Fortunately the crowd closed around us and I didn’t think Darma had seen me.
I jerked and yanked, trying to get free and then had a “der de der der” moment. Pulling my power forward I used it to raise the hefty ugly off my legs and scrambled out from under him. I reemerged in front of my sister a moment later looking, hopefully, innocent and perplexed. “What happened?”
Darma had been making kissy faces at Torre but when she saw me her pretty face folded into its usual, Astra-induced scowl. “Torre rescued me from that brute. No thanks to you. Where did you go anyway?”
