A Demon's Kiss (Young Adult Romance)

by Melanie Marks

  A Demon’s Kiss

  By Melanie Marks

  Copyright 2011 Melanie Marks

  Cover Image © iStockphoto.com/fmbackx

  All Rights Reserved.

  PART 1

  A SECOND CHANCE

  CHAPTER 1

  I was at work, not at the one I used to have at The Game Shop. I bailed on that job. Had to, trust me. It didn’t pay enough to endure what I had to—watching Gage jump through hoops for his latest Barbie doll girlfriend, Addison. I couldn’t take it.

  Anyway, my new job at Posh paid more and I got a twenty-five percent discount on everything in the store. Not that I could afford anything in the store, even with the discount. But still, Posh was a cool place to work. And it was still in the mall, only a few stores down from The Game Shop, so I could still see Gage—when I wanted. But I was free to not see him when I wanted too. That was a necessary plus, ’cause I never wanted to see Gage when Addison was around.

  Never again.

  Anyway, I was at Posh, working. I was bent over a rack of sweaters, straightening a wall display. That’s when he first spoke, catching me off guard.

  “Excuse me,” he said. “Could you help me?”

  He kind of laughed as he said the last part—the request part. Probably because his “excuse me” made me jump a mile in the air. And let out a scream. Not a huge scream, more like a yelp-scream, but it was embarrassing, and only happened because I’m really focused—and, you know, I was really into my work. I mean, I’d thought I was alone—with the sweaters.

  Once I recovered from my near heart attack, I turned to see who’d given it to me, but then, oh! I almost had another one because I found myself face to face with Logan Ryan. Logan Ryan! He’s sort of adorable. And hunky. And mysterious, in a hunky, adorable kind of way.

  For a moment—or five—I stared into his gorgeous green eyes, hypnotized. Then, I sort of got a grip, almost. I mean, enough to notice stuff, like he was still smiling at me, amused like—which was sort of nice, only there was this gleam in his eyes that made me tug at the hem of my dress, suddenly self-conscious. ’Cause the skirt was short. Wild short. How much had I shown him while I was bending over that display? The way he was staring at me made me pretty sure I didn’t want to know.

  Logan wet his lips, eyeing me like a piece of candy. “You look different at school,” he said.

  I acted as though I’d never seen him before. Why? I’m not sure exactly. Sometimes I just like messing with people’s minds. “You go to my school?”

  He blinked, and set his jaw, looking surprised, like he couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed him. “Yeah,” he finally said, with maybe a little air knocked out of his sails. “We’ve never actually been introduced though. I’m Logan Ryan.”

  Which, of course, I already knew. Totally knew. I knew all about him. I knew he was new to our school and yet he’d dated almost every girl in it. I knew he was a total player, and I should run away from him. But as I mentioned, he was adorable and gorgeous and all that kind of stuff. Plus he had this trance-thing going. It was hard to move, let alone run away from him. I couldn’t even look away from him.

  “I’m Michaela.” I gestured at the nameplate on my chest. His eyes followed the gesture. Weird, embarrassing mistake—on my part. I mean, it was like I’d given him permission to stare there. And he did.

  Okay, to be fair though, I do have to admit, he was right. I do look different at work than at school. For one thing, I dress up for work, try to look sophisticated. That day, I was wearing a killer black dress that showed off all my curves—well, would have if I had any—and I’d fluffed my hair up and used hairspray and everything.

  Logan nodded slightly. “Yeah, I know you’re Michaela.” He raised his eyebrows. “I’ve known that for a while now.”

  Prrr!

  Unfortunately, the way he said that, all I’m into you big time like, got me sort of breathless and weak in the knees. I’m such a sap! Still, I was careful not to show any excitement over it. After all, he may have noticed me, but he’d never done anything about it. Never talked to me, or called me, or anything. Besides, I already knew he noticed me. Lots of times I felt his eyes on me at school. But, that’s all he ever did—watch me—usually with a girl on his arm. Which sort of made him a dog. Albeit, a gorgeous dog. But still a dog.

  “Can you take a break?” he asked, drawing in close, close enough that I could smell his yummy, hot guy scent, feel his breath on my neck. Mmmm. He moved closer still. “I’ll buy you a Coke or something.”

  No. Bad. Michaela, resist!

  I started straightening a rack of blouses I’d already straightened. “Can’t,” I said. “Working.”

  But still, he didn’t leave. He stood by, watching my every move. I started to re-think my dress. It got me attention all right, but attention—apparently—was weird. Attention made me sweat.

  “Well then, maybe, we could go out sometime,” he said, sounding frustrated. “Have dinner. Go to a movie.”

  A date? He was seriously asking me on a date? This dress had magic powers or something.

  I stared up at him. Well, pretended to. Really I looked at his shirt, not into his eyes, because they were too hypnotic. And the way he kept looking at me was making me dizzy. Seriously. Like, swoon.

  Whoa, Michaela. Get a grip.

  Just to get with reality, I asked him a question I already knew the answer to, “Don’t you have a girlfriend?”

  He shook his head, slightly. “Not that I know of.”

  Guys are dogs. Seriously. They never seem to remember their girlfriends while they’re asking another girl out. My last boyfriend, Seth, messed me up big time. He was a dog too, a total player. Only I hadn’t known it at the time. I’d been clueless. It’s been months since we broke up, but I’m still licking my wounds.

  So, I asked Logan about the blonde he was always with at school lately, Chloe Bower.

  That made him grin. “I thought you didn’t know I went to your school.”

  I gave an uncommitted shrug. “Maybe I’ve seen you,” was all I was willing to admit. But I guess we both knew I’d been caught ’cause there was a trace of a grin still on his face as he gave the pat answer, “She’s not my girlfriend. We’re just friends.”

  “Does she know that?” I asked.

  He smiled, looking amused. But he didn’t answer. Instead he changed the subject. “You look really nice.”

  Ugh. My stupid heart. Stupid, stupid, Stupid! It was suddenly doing gymnastics and stuff. But my brain knew it was dumb. Somewhere deep-down, it knew. But it was so far and deep down that I was having trouble finding it, listening to it. ’Cause his compliment. It was so unexpected. And sweet. And it was more than just the words he said. It was the way he said them. And the way he looked when he said them. He’d seemed so…sincere.

  Sincerity, very sneaky.

  I took a step away from him.

  “What did you need help finding?” I asked, trying to regain my sales-associate, businesslike composure. Help him find it and help him leave, I told myself.

  Logan smiled. “I forget.”

  “Something for Chloe?”

  His smile broadened with amusement. “No. I remember now. Something for my sister.”

  “Sister, right. How about jewelry?” I gestured to the counter, like a game-show hostess. “I work on commission.”

  Logan shook his head, eyeing me. He wet his lips. “How about a dress—like yours?”

  “For your sister?”

  He nodded, an impish smile playing on his shiny wet lips.

  I led him to the evening section and showed him my dress—the exact one, the same size and everything. Then, smiling doubtfull
y, I showed him the price tag. He didn’t turn it down right on the spot. He actually seemed to be considering it. I chewed on my lip, watching him think it over.

  “It’s expensive, but worth it,” I said, automatically working my sale. Hey, if he had the bucks to fork out for such an expensive gift, I was more than willing to take his money. I didn’t care who the dress was for—his sister, girlfriend, Labrador Retriever. It was all the same to me.

  “It’s a great investment, super versatile,” I went on. “Accessorizing’s the key.”

  Logan smiled, seeming to find my all-out sales pitch amusing.

  I shrugged. “Look, I told you—I work on commission.”

  “Yeah.” He still looked amused. “You mentioned that.”

  I dangled the dress in front of him. “So, what’s it going to be, sport? You want the dress?”

  He sucked in his breath. “Okay. I’ll take it. But in red.”

  Of course.

  I rang the dress up for him, careful not to look into his warm green eyes. Knowing if I looked, I was doomed. I’d melt like butter into a puddle on the floor. It would be a mess. The janitor would have to come and mop me up. Then there I’d sit for time and all eternity in a pail of dirty water. Doomed. Just like the rest of his semi-sort-of-girlfriends.

  He’s a player, just like Seth! I kept telling myself. A player, a player, a player!

  But the way he stared at me…

  No. I had to be strong. I wasn’t up for more heartbreak. I so, so wasn’t. And that’s all Logan Ryan was, a heartbreak waiting to happen.

  “Thank you. Have a nice evening,” I said crisply, when I’d finished ringing up the dress. I was careful to sound businesslike. Nothing more. Not a hint of friendliness.

  Still, Logan lingered at the counter. “Are you sure you can’t take a break?”

  I raised an eyebrow—something I’m pretty good at. “Maybe I’ll give Chloe a call and see how she feels about it.”

  Logan grinned at that, but looked resigned. “Chloe and I—we’re not a couple or anything. It’s not like that.”

  I began shuffling through paperwork, trying to appear indifferent. “Well, maybe it’s not like that to you, but I’ll bet it is to Chloe.” Still studying my paperwork I added, “I bet it was to Lauren Andres, too.”

  Logan wet his lips again, studying me. “Are you always like this?”

  “Like what?”

  “So direct.” He put his hands over my paperwork, forcing me to look up at him. “Because I like it.”

  What he said—the way he said it—he had me ready to close my eyes and take a leap of faith. Trust him. There was something almost familiar about his expression, something I couldn’t make myself remember. But there had been a flash...a something.

  Don’t be stupid, my brain pleaded. This is Logan Ryan. Logan Ryan! He’s not going to hold hands with you and stroll through the school halls. He’s going to ram his tongue down your throat, then rip out your heart. He’s a player. A dog. You don’t need him. You don’t want him.

  Only I kind of did. Sort of.

  But it was dumb. I tried to focus on reality instead of his gaze. Just breathe, I told myself. Only I was having trouble remembering how to do that. Logan had that effect on me, even at school, from a long distance. His stare was electrifying.

  I needed him to leave. Go away and never come back. So, finally I just told him, “I need you to leave.” But I didn’t add the never-come-back part. Instead I said, “I have other customers.”

  “Yeah. Okay.” He stepped back. “I’m going. But obviously I didn’t just notice you at school. You know about Lauren and Chloe, and probably every other girl I’ve dated.” He grinned. “You noticed me too.”

  Busted.

  Only I walked away, acting as though I didn’t hear him, or didn’t care. Still, even then I could feel his eyes linger on me, but I listened to my brain. I kept going. I didn’t turn around.

  CHAPTER 2

  “That guy’s a pest, huh?”

  My heart: THUMP! THUMP!

  “Geez, Gage, don’t sneak up on me like that!” I growled.

  Not that he’d really “snuck up.” He was just standing there and I hadn’t noticed. But I’m a nervous spaz. Unexpected voices send me through the roof. He should have a-hummed or something. I about had a heart attack, my second for the night.

  I bit my lip, trying not to stare at him. He looked good. He’d gotten a haircut.

  “Anyway, what guy?” I tugged on the hem of my dress again. Now Gage was giving my legs an appreciative glance. It was nice, of course—thrilling in fact, since normally he didn’t seem to even realize I was a girl. But his attention was unexpected—and disconcerting.

  What was I thinking wearing something so short? Some girls are comfortable exhibiting the fact that they actually have legs. Not me...apparently.

  Gage didn’t seem to notice my discomfort. He went on with the conversation as though he admired my legs on a daily basis—which was so not the case.

  “Logan,” he said.

  I looked up from my paperwork. “You saw that?”

  Gage’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Yeah. I saw you blow him off.” Then he said it again, “The guy’s a pest, huh?”

  “Not really.” I stared down at my work. “He’s kinda cute.”

  “Huh?”

  I shrugged. “He’s cute.”

  Gage looked confused. “Then why didn’t you go out with him? Why’d you blow him off like that?”

  There wasn’t really an explanation. Not one that I wanted to go into with Gage, anyway. He had this boy-girl attraction stuff down. Things like unexpected attention didn’t faze him—it was part of his everyday life. Like breathing.

  “I was just playing hard to get,” I lied. “He’ll come back, right?”

  Gage rubbed his stubbled chin, still looking confused. “I don’t know. Maybe.” Then he added, “You really like him?”

  Just to be me, I shrugged. As I said, I enjoy messing with people’s minds. Not usually Gage’s, but geez...sometimes he could be dense. Like, when it came to girls having crushes on him. He seriously had no idea what he did to my heart.

  “Anyway, what are you doing here?” I asked, changing the subject, trying to. “Shouldn’t you be closing up?”

  “Yeah.” Gage still looked perplexed by the Logan thing—probably because Gage, himself, had never thought of me as a girl, capable of actual girl thoughts. The concept was foreign to him. “I was wondering if you need a ride home—your car’s still not working, right?”

  “Right. But I was gonna call Izzie.”

  Gage furrowed his brow. “Why? What’s with you lately? I can give you a ride.”

  I bit my lip, still staring down at my paperwork. “Are you giving Addison a ride?”

  Through the corner of my eye, I saw Gage set his jaw. “No. Addison got off at eight. But what difference does that make? I could’ve given you both a ride, couldn’t I?”

  “I don’t know.” I sighed. “Look, why don’t you ask her, okay?”

  Gage put his hands over my paperwork. “What are you talking about?”

  I refused to look at him. Instead, I threw up my hands. “Have this conversation with your girlfriend, okay? Not me.” I wasn’t planning on telling him this. I was trying to just quietly back off. But suddenly I found myself leaking like a sieve. “She told me to leave you alone—give the two of you space. So that’s what I’m doing, okay?”

  “She what?”

  I blew the bangs out of my eyes, or tried to, but really they weren’t there. It was just a habit I had when I was frustrated. “Addison told me to back off. She said I ‘cling to you.’ She said you ‘feel sorry’ for me.”

  “What?” Gage looked mad. He sounded even madder. It was weird though, because he never gets mad, ever. His lips narrowed into a tight line. “Why would I feel sorry for you?”

  Why? Because I’m pathetic, that’s why. But I didn’t tell him that. No way.

  Addi
son thought I was trying to come between them. Was that true? No, not really. Did I hate her? Yes. Did I want them to break up? Definitely, yes. But was I trying to come between them? No. I didn’t want them to break up because of me. No way. As blind as it proved him to be, Gage really liked Addison. If I somehow came between them—as if I could—then Gage would hate me. And I couldn’t take that.

  “Look, I don’t know,” I told him. “That’s what she said. You need to talk about this with her—not me.”

  “Trust me, I will.” Gage stuck his hands in his front pockets. “Do you want a ride?”

  I looked up at the ceiling, then back at him. Screw Addison. I nodded. “Sure.”

  He stared at me a moment, his anger fading. Gone. “You look different.”

  “It’s the dress,” I told him. I didn’t go on to tell him it was expensive, though, or that I got a discount on it, although I really, really wanted to. I wanted to blurt out everything about the dress and about me fluffing up my hair and using hairspray. I wanted to babble on and on because I felt flustered by the way he was gazing at me.

  Instead, I tried to sound casual. “I’ll meet you at your car when I’m done.”

  ***

  When I got home from work there was a note from Beth waiting for me on the kitchen table. Summer and I are catching a movie. Pizza’s in the fridge. Love Mom.

  Love Mom? I raised an eyebrows, staring at the word. Not the Love, the Mom. Seeing it made my stomach feel funny.

  I didn’t call Beth mom. Ever. Not even when I was a kid. She wasn’t my mom. She was Summer’s mom. But, secretly, I liked to think of her as my mom. Pretend she was.

  But she wasn’t.

  The thing was, I didn’t remember my mom. At all. I didn’t have one single memory of her—not one. I should have though. Really it seemed I should. She died when I was seven. Other people remembered things from when they were seven. They said they did. But not me. I couldn’t remember one thing before I came to live with Beth and Summer. Not one single thing. It was like I had a memory block, or...something.