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

by Celia Kyle

  Eek, Tori went tumbling into a kappa. She hoped the gray-green vamp didn’t suck the human bitch dry in the middle of Hell’s Chapel. Later was fine, but she really didn’t want to deal with a dead body tonight. Her wolf was strained and snappish with Sam’s absence. It was hard enough keeping the beast under control. She knew she’d snap if she had to handle a corpse.

  It’d be another Chicago.

  She still felt really bad about that.

  Damn it, the bitch went bulldozing through a satyr’s conversation. Caith hoped the male didn’t decide to give her a whack with one of his cloven hooves.

  Finally the woman shoved her way to the bar and collapsed over it, chest pressed to the smooth wood as she panted for breath.

  Caith wiped the surface with her towel and then focused on the chick. The quicker she said what she needed to say, the quicker she was gone. She wasn’t ready to test the brownies’ spelled furniture yet and there was no guarantee Tori wouldn’t start a brawl. She was pretty in a skinny, lemme use your right arm as a toothpick kind of way.

  “What the fuck d’ya want?” Caith felt no need to be polite. At all.

  “What have you done with him?”

  She sighed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. If you’re looking for Sam, I haven’t seen him in weeks.”

  Thirteen days, but she wasn’t counting.

  “Not Sam,” the bitch snarled. Which was surprising. Not the snarling but the ‘not Sam’ part. “My brother.” Tori narrowed her eyes. “I know about you and all this. My cousin talked to you and then you took Sam from me. Now my brother. You have it in for my family.”

  “Look, Tori, I’ve been accused of many things—most of them true—but having it in for your family isn’t on my list of evil deeds.” Lately. Though the woman showing up at Hell’s Chapel gave her ideas. “So back the fuck up and either explain yourself or get the fuck out.” Caith reached for a glass. “And if you’re staying, you gotta order. No one sits at the bar without ordering a drink.”

  The woman pressed her lips together until they were a white line. “Fine. I’ll take a white wine.”

  Caith stared at her. Hell, the demons and tweeners nearby stared at her. “Excuse me?”

  “White wine. This bar can’t be a complete waste of space. The sign is all modern and pretty despite all this,” she wrinkled her nose, “grime. You have to have white wine,” Tori sniped.

  Everyone surrounding her took a giant step back, leaving the human in an empty three-foot-wide circle.

  Cardinal rule in Hell’s Chapel—you don’t talk about the logo. It was Caith’s baby and the first person to utter a word—good or bad—was on a straight shot to Uncle Luc’s. Do not pass go, do not get a fire retardant suit.

  Caith took a calming breath, fighting her wolf and hellfire back. If either found a chink in her armor, they’d be on the loose and tearing through Tori.

  “This isn’t the place for you, Tori.” The voice was deep velvet and filled her ear a moment before the delicious scent twined around her. It sank into her blood, filled her veins and slithered through her body. It touched those shriveled nooks and crannies and filled them with hope.

  So much fucking hope and she wanted to punch him in the suck hole for handing it over. Because if he walked away again…

  Tori opened her mouth to reply and the man behind Caith cut her off. “You’re going to leave.”

  “But my brother…”

  “Took an extended vacation, but is at home now. Your cousin is with him. Leave Hell’s Chapel and don’t ever come back.” The order in his voice was unmistakable and even Caith was tempted to follow his directions.

  “No,” Tori bristled. “I know—”

  “That, for your health, you’ll leave.” The man’s tone was hard and unyielding. And very, very scary.

  Well, probably to the human. To Caith? It just got her hot and aching to climb him like a tree.

  The woman frowned and a Styrofoam cup was pushed across the gleaming wood. “Here’s your drink. Leave.”

  That had Caith frowning and she turned her head to stare at Sam’s profile. Sam. She knew his voice, but there he was. Sam.

  “We have white wine?”

  He shifted his gaze to her ever so slightly. “Call it a bonus of being me.”

  Ah. Angel powers used for evil. Though, it could be called for good since it was a good thing Sam got her out before Caith busted out a can of evil hellfire.

  “In a cup with a straw?” Damn, Tori screeched loud. “I demand—”

  “Okay, enough.” Caith raised a hand as she released a sharp whistle. It didn’t quiet anyone, but it did get one of the security guards’ attention. “She’s out!”

  Screeching continued as Tori was corralled and hauled away. Bitch kept her Styrofoam cup of white wine though, didn’t she?

  The second Tori disappeared, her spot was reclaimed by customers, all waving cash and yelling orders.

  Sam was still a physical presence beside her, but she had a bar to run. Even if she wanted nothing more than to roll in his scent. Sex didn’t pay the bills.

  Unless she was a hooker. And then she better be damned expensive because if she was gonna lay on her back for cash, she was gonna be a high class whore.

  “Caith?” he murmured her name and she fought the shudder that threatened.

  “I’m busy, Sam.” She poured a double for the goblin in front of her and lit a shot for the guy from Uncle Luc’s ninth circle. Man liked a little fire with the burn.

  “I know, but I need—”

  Hell no. “You need to talk to me, but I got a business to run.”

  He didn’t respond to that. At least, not right away. “There are things…”

  “Is this the it’s not you, it’s me brush off?” She spun toward him. “Because I’ll save you the trouble. It’s not me, it’s you. There. Done.”

  “Are you always such a hard ass?”

  “I like that little jiggle she has in her ass, m’self.” Then the drunken troll belched, sending a putrid stench through the air.

  Sam’s eyes flared brightly in the dim interior, the sparkling blue now holding the barest hint of red around the rim. Huh. “Don’t stare at her ass.”

  “Free country.” The troll shrugged.

  Sam took a step forward and the troll’s lips split into a grin, revealing black, rotted teeth.

  Like lightning, she poured the troll a shot of bourbon and placed a hand on the center of Sam’s chest. “That’s enough.” She glanced at the troll. “Charlie, take it and go.” The troll pouted and Caith rolled her eyes. “Unless you want to end up beneath my boot, you’ll get.”

  That had him racing away, stumbling when he collided with one of the building’s support beams.

  Alone-ish, she spun on Sam. “What do you want?”

  “You.”

  Caith snorted. “On High doesn’t like liars. Try again.”

  “It’s true.”

  “Uh-huh.” Another order was shouted nearby and she got to work, pouring, shaking, and smiling at the next patron to approach the bar. “Sell me a bridge.”

  “Not getting my bridge,” Truck the Troll—save her from tweeners who chose their own names—grumbled. It was the first thing he’d eaten that’d tried to cross his bridge without paying the toll. He liked the taste so much…

  “No, Truck. I’ll get my own.” She smiled at the old troll.

  The male shuffled off and for once, there was a small lull in the rush. At least enough to allow Caith to drag Sam to the back room and kick his ass. Quietly. If it got too loud, they’d incite a riot.

  Though, it would test the brownies’ spell on the furniture…

  Maybe tomorrow.

  “Berg!” She raised her voice over the remaining crowd and he turned his attention to her. “Taking five!” She held up her hand, fingers spread and the male nodded his understanding. That done, she grabbed Sam’s wrist and pulled him be
hind her. “C’mon.”

  It took no time to haul him behind the newly hung curtain and then tug it back in place. Once physically hidden from the customers, Caith put distance between them. She crossed her arms over her chest and adopted a bored expression. Even if her body was filled with a cacophony of emotions, she could pretend to be unaffected.

  “Well? You wanted me here.”

  Sam gave her a rueful grin. “And now I don’t know what to say.”

  “Then I’ll go back to work and when you figure—” The rest of her brush off was muffled by firm lips and an insistent tongue as Sam captured her mouth with a fierce kiss. It was fast and furious, not a gentle seduction but a plastering of lips that silenced her in a single move. It didn’t last long, just enough to shut her up.

  “You’re a hard ass, Caith.”

  “You said that already and it’s nothing new. You’re like a record that’s skipping. I got a guy who can work on that for you.”

  Sam glared. “I can cut the head off a zombie and ash a vamp without thought. You, you confuse the fuck outta me.”

  She chuckled and wiggled, stepping out of his arms. She was too weak. When he was holding her, he could say jump and she’d say how high followed by lemme bend over for you big boy. “Easy answer to that one. Leave me alone.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Then I don’t know what you want from me.” She spread her arms wide. “This is me, Sam. Do I want you? Yes. We both know that. But I won’t be a dirty secret and I sure as hell won’t take a half-assed mating.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  She huffed. “It’s not that complicated.”

  “I took care of the human for you.”

  Talk about a switch in topics.

  “Manon and Drek took care of him.”

  Sam shook his head. “No, they got the truth out of him. I made him forget. Then he enjoyed a nice vacation with Manon.” He blushed and Caith grinned. “I also worked with Jezebeth and got the net cleaned. Took out a few other sites as well.” He glared at her. “There were entirely too many pics of your cleavage.”

  “Excuse the fuck outta me?” She raised her eyebrows and her anger bubbled to the surface. “Forget? Vacation? Jezebeth? Are these things a pure as fallen snow gel should be doing?”

  He tapped his temple, bringing her attention to his eyes and the red-rimmed irises. “Not so pure.”

  Caith pressed her lips together. “Why help me then? You know On High isn’t keen on everything you did. Why bother?”

  “Because I can’t not help you.” He strode forward and she eased back until she struck the wall. Still he came toward her, bracketing her with his arms and holding her captive. “You’re inside me now. Something happens to you, upsets you, and I wanna fix it.” He leaned down and ran his nose along her neck. It was instinctual, the urge to tilt her head to the side and expose her neck to him without thought. He was her mate. No matter her strength, no matter her power, she would always be vulnerable to him. “Those brownies, Wilting Bluebell, Bergamot… I knew having them would make you happy.”

  “Momma R found them for me.”

  Sam bit her shoulder, sending a small ache through her body that thrilled the wolf. “No. I had her tell you she found them because I knew you’d be angry with my interference.”

  “You’re right. I would.”

  He laved the mark. “But not now because you know you need them and you’re going to forgive me.”

  “Who says?”

  “Your wolf.” He sucked the spot and she knew there’d be a mark when all was said and done. Not a scar, but something and that appeased the wolf. Another bite, another lick.

  “My wolf what?” He was talking? Why was he talking? What was with the talking? More biting. Biting was good.

  “Your wolf is gonna forgive me for being an ass and then you’re gonna give me a chance to get to know you.”

  A chance to get to know her. Right.

  She ducked his arms, sliding from his loose grasp, and bolted to the other side of the room. “Dating. We did that, Sam. Did it and you disappeared.” She shook her head. “Not happening again.”

  Sam tilted her head to the side, so like a wolf trying to finish a puzzle. “Momma R has one of my feathers.”

  “Her name’s Helene to you,” Caith snapped. No one got to call the witch Momma R but her.

  “And she told me to make you happy and call her Momma R,” he countered. “Like I said, she has one of my feathers.”

  A feather. An angel feather.

  Caith narrowed her eyes. Gels didn’t just flit around giving the things away. It locked angels in place like a leash. If they were in On High and lost one, they were stuck until it was recovered. Same with the tween or Hell. It was like losing a bus pass.

  “Your feather? Why?”

  “Why do you think?” He looked at her like she was an idiot.

  “Is that a trick question?”

  “Caith,” he growled.

  “Explain it to me in small words. I’m not about to assume something and I’m sure as hell not going to become attached to you just so you can disappear again. So, spell it out like I’m three.”

  Sam took a step toward her and she scurried back. Not in fear. Well, a little bit of fear. But not of him. It was fear of what she’d do if he came near. She was done with throwing herself at him. Really. Mostly.

  He tucked his hands in his pockets, the move outlining his generous package. Man, she wanted to get her hands on him. Bad.

  “I know I disappeared after our date. I was conflicted. For as long as I can remember, On High has been about protection and caring and I… didn’t have a problem with your plans for the human. That fucked with my head. So, I figured out a solution that didn’t involve me completely falling out of grace while still protecting the tween.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “It won’t be easy and I’ll probably piss you off more often than not, but I’m not leaving this time.” He eased closer and she remained in place, caught by his words. “I’m in this and Momma R has my feather as insurance. It’s keeping me in the tween and you know she can call me to her without difficulty.”

  Caith nodded. Yeah, a witch with an angel feather? Total badass. She could make Sam do things… “That was a lot of trust, Sam.”

  In Momma R, in her adopted family.

  “I trust her because you trust her. On High has a good opinion of her even if they don’t want her near them. Ever.”

  She grinned. Wasn’t that the truth? “So… You’re here.”

  “I’m here.” He moved even nearer.

  “And you’re not leaving?”

  Sam shook his head and took another step. “And I’m not leaving. We’re going to settle this thing between us, Caith.”

  “My wolf decided already.”

  He stood a hairsbreadth from her and the beast howled in approval. “And now it’ll make me see the truth.”

  Caith sucked in a deep breath. “Okay.” She released the air in a slow glide. “Okay. Where are you staying? When do you wanna have our date?”

  Sam cupped her cheeks and lowered his head. He whispered his next words against her mouth, sealing the syllables between them. “Your place and every day.”

  Sweet. That was her only thought. Seductive and sweet and arousing and her knees nearly buckled from the overwhelming desire that fluttered over her. It was a perfect kiss, not too much pressure or too much tongue and just enough closeness to tease and tempt her.

  “Asking,” Kiss, “to move in wasn’t in you vocabulary?” Not that she would have said no.

  “I didn’t want,” Suck, “you,” Lick, “to say no.”

  He was perfection. Perfectly perfect perfection.

  “Yo, Caith! We got a problem!”

  And of course her perfectly perfect perfection had to be interrupted and she pulled her mouth from Sam’s. “Coming, Berg!”

  Not likely any time soon.
/>
  Sam pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. “Go. I’ll see you at home.”

  Home. Man, she liked the sound of that.

  Home? She furrowed her brow. “How are you getting there?” Since Momma R had his feather, transporting wasn’t possible. “Without all your feathers, you can’t—”

  Sam shoved the back door open, metal swinging wide to reveal the most gorgeous, panty-wetting motorcycle she’d ever seen. “Gel money is as good as any other and On High gave me some cash to cover things while I’m in the tween.”

  The door remained wide as he strode to the bike and swung his leg over. She’d give anything to be seated behind him, the rumble of the motor vibrating her body as they raced down the road, his scent surrounding her.

  He gave her a wink and she squeaked.

  Then like any other girl, she ran away to be embarrassed. In private. She also checked to make sure she wasn’t drooling.

  Because, ohmahgawhd hot.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Their first bonding experience involved ice cream. Not bondage, bonding. She needed to make sure she said the word clearly when she repeated the story to Jezze in infinite detail down to the fact that he dripped a little bit of vanilla…

  Ahem.

  Caith snuggled into the love seat, a piece of furniture that somehow magically —angelically?—appeared in her living room. The leather gave beneath her, the scratched and scarred surface welcoming her in the soft cushions. She slid the spoon between her lips, allowing the sweet flavors to slither down her throat, and she moaned in appreciation. Comfy seat, yummy ice cream, and smoking hot man. What more could a girl want?

  A claiming bite…

  She ignored her wolf.

  Her feet dangled over the edge of the seat, heels thumping against the frame. She hadn’t bothered tugging off the boots when she’d come home, too excited to see if Sam followed through with his decree and moved in. Then everything was overshadowed by Sam and ice cream. He was a god among angels.