Hell's Chapel (Shapeshifter Urban Fantasy) (Caith Morningstar Book 1)

by Celia Kyle

  The butter would melt so nicely…

  As if reading her mind, Sam swapped their plates, giving her a wink before he took a bite of her cooled breakfast.

  She ignored the dreamy sigh from the other side of the table. Both dreamy sighs. She also ignored Jezze’s wistful expression and Momma R’s knowing smirk.

  “What brings you two to my door? I imagine it was not just to introduce me to your young man.” Momma R’s voice was smooth as silk.

  “He is not my young man.” Besides, he was probably as old as dirt.

  “Hmm…” How was it that Momma R could make a simple sound say so much? The witch focused on Sam. “Tell me, Sam, why are you on On High’s bad side? Do not get me wrong, I believe my little demon needs a man who skates the line of right and wrong since she does so herself. I would simply like to ensure I will not have to kill you later.”

  “Gah… We are not doing this. No intimidating my dates. Seriously.” And that was when she realized she’d said…

  “I think we’re more than dating, aren’t we, amica?” She didn’t have to turn her head to know the stupid angel was grinning.

  Desperate to change the topic, she jumped into the real reason she dragged Sam to the Renards’ and it definitely had nothing to do with Caith introducing Sam to her surrogate family. She’d deal with her crazy fathers later. And her mother… Dammit. No, she wasn’t introducing him to anyone because they weren’t dating.

  “Green-eyed zombies killed Mrs. Jenkins.” She blurted the words without any warning.

  That got everyone’s attention.

  “Aw,” Jezebeth frowned. “I liked her. She grew a whole plot of wolfsbane just for me.”

  Heat whipped through the room, bringing a wave of sulfur with it and Caith sighed. “You’re pushing against that half-fallen status, Sam.”

  “Wolfsbane is dangerous to werewolves,” he snarled.

  Caith rolled her eyes. “I know. Jezze grew it to annoy Papa Al and the local pack. It’s not like I have pups on the grounds, so we used it to tweak their tails. The local alpha and I have—”

  “I’d love to see you swollen with…” She wasn’t sure if he was joking or not. His grin was teasing, but his eyes were drifting from blue to red.

  “No. No. We are not having that discussion because we’re not… we aren’t… we—”

  Jezze snorted. “You so are. Give up already.”

  Trying to refocus the group, she began again. “They weren’t mindless. They attacked me, they didn’t come running when I sliced my arm, and that one guy was strong as a mother trucker.”

  She ignored Sam’s chuckle. She was ignoring a lot about him yet she was still attuned to his every move and breath.

  Ugh, she was gone for him.

  Stupid, stupid, Caith.

  “Really?” Momma R leaned forward and Jezebeth practically bounced in her seat.

  Caith nodded. “And vamps. They appeared in our hotel suite this morning.”

  “You shared a suite?” Of course Jezze caught that. “Caith and Sam, sitting in a hellcave…”

  “The point is a crap-ton of them attacked and kicked some serious butt.” Caith was doing so well with not cursing in Momma R’s house. “We dusted them and came here.”

  “Hmm…” Another sound that meant nothing and everything. The low ding of the oven silenced whatever else Momma R was going to say as she turned to pull another pan from the heat. “Jezebeth. Go to the attic and bring the book.”

  “The book?” Jezze’s eyes were large.

  “Yes, yes. There is something there, but I cannot remember. Perhaps a notation from seven hundred years ago. It could be eight hundred. The book will tell me.” Momma R was distracted as she poked and prodded muffins. “Off you go.”

  Jezebeth shot her a confused look, but did as her mother asked.

  “As for you two… Caith, I believe Francois misses you.”

  The casual words were an order and she rose from the table, ignoring Sam’s furious snarl. Stupid men who couldn’t bother finding out all the facts before getting angry.

  She snatched her muffin and wrapped it in a napkin before padding toward the back door. When Sam didn’t move to follow, she glanced at him over her shoulder and ignored his glare. “Coming?”

  “I dunno, do you need some alone time with Francois?”

  Caith snorted. “C’mon.”

  She stepped through the backdoor and tromped down the porch steps. She strode over the patchy lawn toward one of her favorite places. Overgrowth blocked her path, but it was easy to nudge aside. Sam’s heavy tread told her he followed albeit at a distance. His low grumbles reached her, but she couldn’t quite make out his words.

  The gnarled and twisted shrubs gave way to the clear bank of the river and she plopped down on the moist ground. It took less than a second for one of her favorite men in the world to climb from the water and rush toward her. He was large, the largest of his kind, and nothing more than a big puppy dog. He slowed as he neared her, crawling forward until his massive head rested on her lap. His nostrils flared and she knew he caught scent of Momma R’s muffin. He gave her those sweet, pretty, pretty please eyes and she chuckled.

  “I’ll split it with you,” she murmured and the big guy’s tail twitched and wagged ever so slightly as he opened his mouth widely.

  “Caith?” The crack and snap of twigs announced Sam’s imminent approach and his shout was unsurprising. “What the fuck?”

  Sam’s shoes slipped and slid over the wet bank and she simply smiled at Francois.

  “Sam, meet Francois. Also known as Franky-baby.” The gator huffed and she grinned. She tore off a hunk of muffin and popped into the massive alligator’s mouth.

  “You… He… Caith, leave the gator alone. They’re not pets and I know demons are supposed to be resilient, but getting eaten isn’t exactly something you can recover from.”

  Aw, he sounded so worried.

  “Franky-baby’s not gonna eat me.” She popped another bite into his mouth and then rubbed his chin. “He lubs me, don’t you, sweetheart?” That got her a gentle nuzzle to her stomach. “That’s right,” she cooed.

  “Caith…” Worry was evident in his tone and she sighed.

  Knowing she was running Francois off before they had a chance to visit, she popped the rest of the muffin into Francois’ mouth and then nudged him. “Off you go. You’re scaring poor Sam.” The gator whined. “I’ll bring you a nice treat later. If you’re lucky, I might even have one of the Hell’s Chapel customers for you. I’ve been annoyed lately and you know what that means.”

  The gator flicked his tail with happiness and gave her one last nuzzle before he left. Once Francois was in the water, Sam slowly approached her.

  “What the fuck was that?” His voice trembled and she inwardly smiled. So, the big, bad angel was afraid of a gator.

  “That was Francois. He’s one of Jezebeth’s babies, but I hatched him at my house. The mother’s nest was destroyed save for Franky-baby. I took care of him until he was big enough to survive on his own and then Jezze and I released him here.”

  “You took care of him?” Disbelief was plain, but she didn’t get offended.

  She supposed she could understand his surprise. It wasn’t every day a guy discovered his girlfriend—no, friend—snuggled with gators on the riverbank.

  “Yup. He stayed in the house while I had a lake built just for him on the property. Once he was too big for that we brought him here.” Large eyes rose from the river water and were joined by two other pairs. “And now,” she gestured to the small trio in the water, “he has a couple of girlfriends and he’s one happy gator.” She sensed Sam’s intent gaze and she turned her head to meet his stare. “What?”

  He simply shook his head and lowered to the ground beside her with a sigh. “You’re a good person, Caith.”

  Caith ignored the growing knot in her throat and pretended a nonchalance she didn’t feel. “I
try. I mean, sometimes it works and sometimes it goes down in a flaming city-wide ball of hellfire that burns for days and kills hundreds of people.”

  She tore her gaze from his and turned her head toward the river, staring at the water but not seeing a single thing. She pretended she hadn’t just exposed a part of her heart and prayed—a demon prayed—that he’d pretend he hadn’t heard her words.

  “Well, this turned out okay. He hasn’t eaten anyone has he?”

  “Well…” She winced. “A little bit, but the brownie was tiny. A quick wash and patch job and he was just fine. He works for me now and manages the brownies at the bar. Hell’s Chapel wouldn’t be shiny each night if it wasn’t for Dead Nettle and his crew.”

  Man, she loved those brownies. Every night they came into the club and cleaned it from top to bottom. It was a win-win situation. They loved to clean and she paid with finger food. Remembering Dead Nettle’s little encounter with Francois, she realized she hadn’t left a bonus for the brownies last night. Dammit. She’d take care of that later.

  Sam chuckled and shook his head, dark hair falling forward to cover his forehead. Her fingers itched to brush the strands aside, to sift through the waves, but she held herself in check. She squeezed the napkin into a tight ball, fighting the urge.

  The river continued to flow past. Francois eventually got tired of watching them and floated off, his girlfriends tagging along.

  “Still turned out all right.”

  “Yeah.” She took a deep breath and slowly released it. “It did. Sorta.”

  She let the soothing bubble and gurgle of the river roll over her, stroking her frazzled nerves—the events of the night catching up with her. Memories of those livid green eyes haunted her, drifting across her vision only to be followed by splashes of black blood and sprinkling ash. A tremor hit her and she refused to accept that it stemmed from fear.

  Re. Fused.

  Sam leaned against her, bumping her shoulder with his. “Like I said. Good.”

  Caith hummed, mind still rolling the violence through her head like a never-ending movie.

  He lowered his chin, lips a hairsbreadth from her ear. “Stop thinking about it. Breathe for a minute. Relax.”

  “I am relaxed. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He chuckled, moist breath fanning her skin. “Liar. On High doesn’t like liars.”

  Caith grinned. “Good thing I’m not trying to get in with the higher ups.”

  “Eh, I’ll put in a good word for you.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Amica.”

  Her body reacted to that low word, nipples pebbling and pussy growing heavy and achy in anticipation. She was like one of Pavlov’s dogs. Ring a bell and she panted for food.

  “Sam…” She leaned away, catching herself by placing her palm on the damp ground, but he wouldn’t have that. He slid an arm around her shoulders and tugged her back, and she couldn’t complain. She wanted his touch just as much as she disliked it. “This isn’t a good idea.”

  “Hush.” He brushed a soft kiss against her temple. “I think it’s a wonderful idea. So do you if you’ll stop thinking for a minute.”

  “But—”

  “No. No monsters. No gels, no dems, and no tweens.” Sam was so very, very tempting.

  “I…”

  Sam nibbled her earlobe. “What’s your favorite color, Caith?”

  “Um…” She was supposed to talk while his mouth was on her?

  “Favorite.” He licked her neck. “Color.”

  He captured her skin between his teeth and bit. Not hard enough to break flesh, but enough to send a hint of pain through her. Her wolf took notice of the sting, whining and huffing. It wiggled its tail in a rapid swoosh, urging her to give Sam whatever he desired.

  “P-p-pink.”

  She felt, rather than saw, his smile, those sinful lips curving against her shoulder. “Not red or black? No mistress of the night?”

  Caith grinned and decided to give in to him. For now. She tilted her head to the side, granting him greater access, before she answered. “No, I grew up wanting to be a fairy princess and…” She forced a laugh from her mouth and pulled away. “Not a good thing when one of your dads is the pixie king whose ex was the fairy queen and—”

  Sam growled, a sound that aroused her wolf and did lovely things to her pink parts. It got even better when those familiar, large hands reached around her, grasped her hips, lifted her from the ground and then hauled her onto his lap.

  “Don’t change the subject. I’m not talking about your fathers.” He forced her to straddle his lap and she didn’t put up one hint of a fight. “I’m talking to you, Caith Belinha Morningstar. From the battlefield and a promise of God. Isn’t that what your names mean?”

  Sam’s cock grew and hardened beneath Caith’s ass and she swallowed the whimper that threatened to break free. Instead, she tried to focus. “Why are you asking?”

  “Because,” his deep voice vibrated through her, the sound pinging off her nerves. “I want to know everything about you. Because… because something in me says I have to know your every secret.”

  “But, Sam—”

  His hands left her back and she whined only to have that replaced with a soul deep moan when his lips captured hers. He tasted like sweetness, and pure life, and the smoky warmth of her mother’s home. Heaven and Hell in one and she craved him. Craved.

  Sam’s tongue tangled with hers, stroking and petting and sampling… She did the same, exploring and committing every one of his flavors to memory. Something this good couldn’t remain forever and she wanted to savor each snippet of happiness.

  Demons didn’t get a happily ever after.

  Though, she wished they did because she could see herself with Sam in the future. Maybe not every day or every hour, but… there.

  He cupped her ass, fingers kneading her flesh and using his hold to encourage her to rock and shift against him. Once again his cock was hot and hard between her legs, their clothes kept them separated, but pleasure still managed to span the barrier.

  She sucked on his tongue, pretending it was the thick length of his shaft. Her mouth watered at the thought of tasting him, learning every inch of him. Her wolf nudged and shoved her, begging her to do just that.

  Mine. Mine. Mine.

  She fought the desperate need to consume him, to claim him with every part of her body. Hellfire devoured her veins, making her burn for Sam, but she fought its attempt at branding him as her own. Not here, not now, not exposed and unaware.

  He snaked beneath her top, touching every part of her he could reach. Nimble fingers reached around and flicked the button of her pants and lowered the zipper. She whimpered, anticipating his touch and she whined when his hands returned to her back. Returned and dipped beneath the waist of her leathers, palms making room and exploring her ass.

  “Sam…” She needed so, so much.

  He pulled away to murmur a few words. “So hot. Caith…”

  She didn’t slow her rocking motion, using the friction to increase their shared pleasure. She’d come, any minute now, his body giving her everything she needed to find her release.

  “That’s it, Caith…”

  Her pace stuttered. Would he tell her to give? Would he be another man who took and too—

  “Take what you need, Caith.”

  The right words. The perfect words.

  Her wolf howled, announcing its choice in mate and she echoed the sound aloud, sending it flying through the air. She screamed to On High, taking the bliss and letting it course through her. It slid along her nerves and the rush eased the hellfire, overriding it with the power of her release.

  Her pussy clenched and tightened on air, pulsing with the desire to be filled, overtaken by Sam.

  Hers. Hers. Hers.

  Blunt teeth latched onto her shoulder, adding a hint of stinging pain to the ecstasy that enveloped her and yet another tsunami of joy struck
her. She wondered if this was what being in On High felt like, if every day was a life of orgasm and wonder.

  Sam chuckled, the sound vibrating through her and sending pleasurable aftershocks pinging through her body. He released her shoulder and slowed his attentions, gentling her until she was merely slumped against him.

  “Not so much, amica.”

  “Hmm? Not so much what?” She ignored the fact her words slurred.

  “Being in On High is not twenty-four seven orgasms.”

  “Sucks to be you guys then.” She snuggled closer and Sam moaned. His hold shifted and he stilled her movements. It was then she noticed he was still thick and solid against her. “Sam…?” She eased away from his chest. “You didn’t?”

  He gave her a rueful smile. “No, I—” Caith was quick to reach between them, fingers connecting with the button on his pants, but his large hands stopped her. “No, it’s fine. This was for you.”

  “I’m not a selfish lover, Sam. Lemme take care of you.”

  His expression was pained, raw desire warring with his resolve. “If I… If we… I can’t go—”

  The snap of twigs and rustle of the nearby bushes warned her of someone’s approach and a second later Jezebeth stumbled into their small area. Her best friend’s eyes opened wide and then she whirled around with a squeak. “Uh, sorry to interrupt, but Mom wants to talk before we go to the bar.”

  Caith nodded, not really paying attention to Jezze’s words and mulling over Sam’s. “Gimme a second.”

  “Go back to the bar?” Disbelief filled Sam’s tone.

  When did she begin thinking of him as Sam and not just another gel?

  “Yeah, green eyes or not, Hell’s Chapel has to stay open.” She eased backward and rolled to her feet.

  Sudden embarrassment flooded her and she looked away as she buttoned her pants and then brushed off mud and grime coating her leather. Maybe Sam could give them an angelic once over before she left.

  “Go ahead, Jezze. I’ll be there after I talk to Sam.”

  Jezebeth snorted. “Talk?” she scoffed. “Right.”

  With that, the witch disappeared, leaving them alone again. The moment she knew Jezze was out of hearing range she turned back to Sam.