Morning sunlight was streaming through my bedroom windows, beating against my closed eyelids, and I knew the dream was going to be ending soon, damn it. I twitched a little on my sheets and sighed wistfully, wishing that really good throbbing would pick up speed and push me into Orgasmland (like Disneyland, only for grown-ups).
Sadly, nothing happened, so I opened my eyes and—“YIKES!”
Brady was leaning over me, smiling. His hands were moving under the baseball jersey I wore for a nightgown, and parts of my body were jolting to attention.
“Hey, hey, HEY!” I pushed his hands out from under my nightie and scrambled to a sitting position, dragging my sheets and blankets up to my chin like some Victorian maiden and wondering wildly where my panties were. Give me a break; I was just a little surprised. It’s not every morning you wake up to find a Faery giving you a hand job.
“Good morning,” he said, and his voice was like melted chocolate. WOW. How’d he do that—squeeze all that sexy innuendo and promises into two little words?
“Yeah. Good morning, all right,” I said, trying to quiet the tingles still happening inside. “Um, what do you think you were doing?”
“Pleasuring you,” he said with a shrug. Muscles shifted in a tantalizing display that made my mouth turn dry and my tingles go even more tingly.
“Why?” I asked, still gripping my blankie to my boobs like a thermal chastity belt.
“It’s what I do.”
“Not to me, you don’t.”
I have standards. Sure, maybe you think they aren’t very high standards, but I have ’em just the same. Right then I was sort of involved with a demon, and while I was riding his impressive love stick, I wasn’t looking for extra doodling on the side. I’m a one-lover-at-a-time kind of woman.
Why?
At that moment, I wasn’t able to think of a good reason, but I was sure it’d come to me.
“As you wish.”
Hmm. He was saying that a lot, and yet I had the feeling that Brady did more of what he wished than anything else. Gorgeous men had a way of getting what they wanted no matter what. He reluctantly pushed off the bed and stood up. My eyes bugged out. Let’s just say that those skintight pants let me see firsthand that Devlin wasn’t the only otherworlder carrying around a telephone pole in his pants.
All of a sudden it got really hot in my bedroom.
“Look,” I said, steering my eyes away from Mr. Eager up to Brady’s eyes. “No offense or anything, but get out.”
“What?” His eyes went wide. “But…but…you are Sanctuary.”
“I didn’t mean get out of the house,” I hedged, though I knew I’d probably regret that later. “Just out of my room. You shouldn’t be here, and I have to get dressed and go to an interview about a new job and—”
“Yes.” He nodded sagely. “Work. I’ve heard of that.”
Wow. He’s heard of work. Next incarnation I was thinking I’d come back as a Faery. Sex all the time, and apparently you don’t have to work. If there was chocolate involved, that would pretty much be the perfect life.
“I will have your breakfast ready for you.”
He was nearly out the bedroom door when I shouted, “Pop Tart! And coffee. Lots of it!”
When he was gone I slumped down in my bed again. My tingles were slowly petering out, and I had to deal with my body’s disappointment before I could convince it to get into the shower.
By the time I was showered and dressed I was feeling better. I have two words for you: Shower Massage. Sure, it’s not the same as a demon woody, but it’ll do in a pinch.
I was wearing my second-best, I’m-a-businesswoman-take-me-seriously outfit: black skirt, white shirt, fitted red jacket and black open-toed high-heeled shoes. My hair still needed highlights—mental note to call Sandy and offer a liter of blood in exchange for an appointment sometime in the next millennium.
Then there was my bag. I’d even bought my new red jacket just to match the purse: a multipocket Marc Jacobs hobo bag in a deep, dark red. In short, it was perfect. I had my mini squirt bottle filled with demon fluid tucked inside, so I was ready to roll. Maybe I’d even go see Devlin later.
Fine. The Shower Massage thing was already wearing off, and I was ready for a real male-inspired orgasm.
Downstairs Thea and Brady were laughing it up in the kitchen, and I shook my head at the bizarro turn my life had taken only a month ago. Back then, in the good ol’ days, my only worries had been about supporting both Thea and my purse habit. Now I had demons to worry about, a Faery diddling me in my sleep and an ex-boyfriend I still cared too much about moving in across the street.
Man, could life go to crap in a heartbeat or not?
I walked into the kitchen in time to see Brady demonstrate a high kick for Thea. And those long legs of his made the Rockettes look like clog dancers.
“That’s AWESOME,” Thea said, applauding for good measure. “And you can teach me how to do that without killing myself?”
“Absolutely.” Brady spotted me, poured me a cup of coffee, then took my arm and steered me to a kitchen chair. He set a plate of eggs and bacon down in front of me, and I was suddenly so hungry I didn’t even wonder how he’d managed to get groceries into the house.
“And,” Brady told Thea, “I’ll help you come up with a wonderful routine guaranteed to get you onto the cheerleader squad.”
Thea beamed at him. Her face held a smile she usually reserved for those surprise physics quizzes she enjoyed so much. “Isn’t that great?” she asked nobody in particular. “Mom, he’s great; isn’t he great?”
“Great,” I mumbled while biting into a crisp strip of bacon. “So you never told me. When’d you decide to become a cheerleader?”
Brady sat down beside me, and Thea shrugged. “One of the girls on the squad fell off the top of the pyramid and broke her leg, so they need somebody new and I just thought…” Her voice dwindled off, and my Mom radar lit up.
There was more here than she was saying; I just didn’t have a clue what it was. But she was avoiding looking directly at me, so I had the feeling that a guy was involved somehow. This was not good. The last boy Thea’d had a thing for had turned out to be a half-demon thug who had turned her over to the bad guys.
“Thea…”
“WOW!” She looked at her watch and leaped up from her chair, snagging another piece of bacon as she went. Sugar lurched toward her from under the table, making a play for the bacon, but came up empty. “Look at the time. I’m gonna be late.”
“Your dad’s not even here to pick you up yet,” I said, giving the last of my breakfast a wistful look as I stood up too. I wanted a couple of answers before she hustled off.
“Is there something wrong with the food?” Brady asked.
“Thea…” I followed her into the living room, and Brady was right behind me.
There was a pounding on the door, and a second later Thea was throwing it open and Logan was standing there looking at us. “Ready?” he asked.
“You bet.” Thea grabbed her backpack, slung it onto her shoulder and bolted. “Gotta go, Mom. Talk to you later, okay? Don’t wanna be late!”
“Who is he?” I hollered. (Screw tact. If I was worried about being nosy I’d never find out anything.)
“He who?” Logan asked.
“Good-bye, Thea,” Brady called.
“Nobody, Mom,” Thea hissed.
Logan draped one arm over Thea’s shoulders, holding her in place while he looked at Brady. “What’re you doing here so early?”
“I live here,” Brady said, dropping one arm around my shoulders.
Logan noticed, and his eyes went all squinty. Just imagine the look on his face if he had seen my wake-up call that morning!
“You live here?”
“Temporarily,” I put in, but Logan wasn’t looking at me. He was too busy watching Brady stroking my arm. I did a quick sidestep away.
“Cassidy has been very generous,” Brady said.
Logan’
s jaw twitched. “I thought you said you were a fairy?”
“I am.”
“Then why’re you all over Cassie?” Logan’s gaze landed on me as if Brady were still holding me.
Brady frowned for a minute, then seemed to get what Logan was talking about. Typical male—he scowled even more fiercely and said, “I’m not that kind of fairy. I’m a real Faery.”
“Real?”
Brady folded his arms over his chest, lifted his chin and narrowed his eyes. “Magical. I’ve come to Cassidy for Sanctuary. She’s protecting me from the demon queen—”
“Brady…” Oh, man. I so didn’t have time for this.
“Magical,” Logan repeated like a man in the grips of an extremely weird hallucination.
“And he’s teaching me how to be a cheerleader,” Thea piped up, then shot a glance at me, noted my don’t-talk-about-this-now expression and immediately shut up, trying to look invisible.
Logan let go of his daughter, planted his hands on his hips and pushed the edges of his flannel shirt back far enough to display the gun hooked to his belt. “Will somebody tell me what’s going on here?”
Chapter Five
The thing is, Logan doesn’t really want to know about demons.
I tried telling him the truth about just what was going on a month ago, and he’d laughed himself sick. So no way was I getting into it again. Especially when I had a meeting to get to, a daughter to interrogate and a Faery to keep off of me.
“Logan, why don’t you just get Thea to school and we’ll talk about this later?” See? I can be reasonable when I absolutely have to.
“Yes,” Brady said. “Thea will be late.”
“Who the hell—”
“Logan,” Thea interrupted, tugging at his arm, “I really need to go.”
He glanced at his newfound daughter, and the smile he couldn’t give me bloomed on his face. “Fine. We’ll go. Get in the car, Thea. I’ll be right there.”
Brady moved toward me and I batted him away. I was really uncomfortable with Brady being so touchy-feely with Logan standing right there.
There were certain things left undefined in this new relationship with Logan. For example, he was my past. Did I really want to go back and risk making another mistake that would not only hurt me this time, but Thea, too?
Besides, I already had this thing going with Devlin Cole, and I just didn’t think I was up to juggling a cop and a demon.
The Faery wasn’t helping the situation any.
“This isn’t over,” Logan said, shifting his gaze from me to Brady and back again. “We’ll talk about this tonight.”
“I might be busy,” I said, thinking that I could find a way to be busy. Maybe I’d actually do the patrolling that Jasmine was always on me about. Heck, dusting demons sounded like way more fun than discussing anything with Logan.
“Get unbusy.”
I bristled. Yes, I have issues. Start bossing me around and I dig in my heels and go the opposite way just to spite you. Which is why Jasmine finds me so irritating, no doubt.
“Sounds like an order.”
“Good call,” Logan ground out. “And I don’t want this guy around when we talk.”
“I live here,” Brady said.
I ignored Brady and gave Logan the death glare. “Wait. Maybe I should go get some paper. I can make notes to make sure everything in my life is just the way you want it.”
“Of course I’ll be here. Where else would I be?” Brady said to no one in particular.
Anywhere, I wanted to say, but that would have seemed too much like being on Logan’s side, so I didn’t.
“Anywhere,” Logan said, and I gave myself a mental pat on the back for restraint.
His car horn honked, and we all looked out to see Thea waving at her father, trying to make him get a move on. Teenage type-A personality to the rescue.
“See ya, Logan.”
He looked like he wanted to say something else, but then decided against it. “Later, Cassie.”
“Right.”
When he was gone, Brady looked at me. “You should not let him come over tonight.”
“Just what I need. Another guy giving me orders.”
“He’s not worthy of you.”
I blinked at him. “You’ve known me for what? Five minutes? Who are you to say Logan’s not worthy?” And why was I defending Logan to Brady?
“Cassidy…”
Enough already. “I gotta go,” I said, completely unwilling to keep this conversation going. “So, um, don’t let any demons in the house while I’m gone.”
“As you wish.”
Huh. If anything in my life was as I wished it, I’d be a bazillionaire living on a tropical island with hot and cold running cabana boys.
Not likely.
I hugged my new Marc Jacobs closer to my body for comfort, then headed out.
The clinic on Fifth Street was small and tucked between the Sand Dollar Diner and Beryl’s House of Wax. The diner served great food at really cheap prices, so Thea and I usually spent a lot of time there. But I tended to avoid even looking at Beryl’s.
Old Vincent Price movie connotations aside, Beryl’s place had a superhigh creep-out factor. Her list of waxing services was painted on the front window—eyebrows, facial waxing (something to look forward to, I guess—growing a beard), legs and, God help me…Brazilian waxes. Just my reading the word made my hoo-hah cringe. Hot wax next to party central? I didn’t think so. Plus, I’d heard that the clinic deliberately opened up shop next door to Beryl’s to take advantage of customers needing “accidental” burn treatments. Oh, yeah. Sign me up.
I shuddered when I parked my car and climbed out. The whole walk to the clinic I was squeezing those internal muscles as if I could pull my hoo-hah higher up inside just to protect it.
The clinic’s waiting room was empty and smelled like alcohol and old people. Ten vacant chairs sat in a circle around a low table with out-of-date magazines scattered across the surface. I knew at a glance that they were out-of-date, because there was a picture of Brad and Jennifer on the cover of People with the tagline BABY ON THE WAY?
“Can I help you?” A fortyish woman with small eyes and a mole the size of a quarter on her chin spoke up from behind the reception desk. She was wearing pink polyester and had her graying brown hair done up in a braid wrapped around her head like Heidi Hits Middle Age. But nothing took away from that mole.
“Yeah,” I said, trying desperately not to look at the mole. “I’m here to see Dr. Forest about the cleaning contract.”
“Right.” She sort of froze up, then forced a smile. “She said you’d be coming today and that I should show you around.”
“Okay.” I walked through the door, and the receptionist was doing her best to keep some distance between us. I didn’t take it personally. If I worked in a clinic I’d be wearing a mask and gloves all the time just to keep myself cootie-free. “It’s bigger than it looks from the outside,” I said, mentally ticking off examination rooms and loving the sound of mental calculator keys clackety-clacking along.
“There are six exam rooms,” she said, talking as fast as she was walking. Big hurry to get this over and done with. “And then the break room and the medicine room, and then that’s the whole thing—well, except for the lobby, which you already saw, so if that’s all you need…”
Things started adding up in my head. Mole Woman looked like she wanted to be anywhere but there, and since she actually worked there, I was beginning to think that I was the one giving her the heebie-jeebies. Since I’m a nice person and she’d never met me before, the only reason she’d be trying to ditch me was because she knew I was the Duster and she must be a demon.
“You seem nervous,” I said.
“Who? Me?”
Only one way to find out if she was the kind of demon who needed dusting or not. I smiled at her and reached into my purse for my mini squirt bottle. I brought it out and hit the trigger, and a stream of green-flecked dark brow
n liquid shot at her.
“Yow!” She leaped back, hit a file cabinet, toppled a stack of manila folders off its precarious perch and sent piles of papers flying through the air. She danced in place, trying to find a way past me and out of this mess. But she slipped on one of the papers, landed on her ass and smacked the back of her head into that cabinet.
“Oopsie.” She was climbing to her feet, hissing a little, but smiling anyway, like this was no big deal. Smoke was lifting off the top of her head, and she winced as she tried to stud it out.
“You okay?” I asked. That was me: considerate Duster.
“Fine, fine,” she said. “Um, that’s interesting. A new perfume?” Beads of sweat glittered on her upper lip, and even the mole sort of looked like it was shrinking.
“Give it up. Your head’s smoking.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She smoothed one hand over the top of her head and then wiped her now-smoking palm on the side of her pink polyester uniform pants.
“You’re a demon.”
“Demon?” She laughed, but it was more like the sound of coins jingling together: sort of flat and tuneless. “No such thing as demons.”
Okay, see, I’m a reasonable Duster. In the last month I’ve figured out that the best way to know if a demon needs its heart removed is if I squirt it and it tries to kill me. The ones like Nurse Mole, who just stand there and cringe, aren’t really in the threat-to-mankind category, so I leave ’em alone.
Look at me: One month on the job and I’ve already got priorities.
“Relax,” I said, tucking the spray back into my purse. “I’m not going to dust you.”
“Thank God.” She slumped in relief, then instantly turned around to the mountain-springwater fountain and cupped her hand under the spigot. Then she slapped the water on top of her head and sighed in relief. “Good. Thanks.” She glanced down at her palm, then held it up accusingly. “Look what that stuff did! Man, it really burns.”
Her skin was blistered, but, hey, I refused to jump onto the guilt train. Demon.
A Fiend in Need Page 5
