“She’s going to be a real Hellion when he gets her soul. She’ll probably kill me before anyone else.” I kicked sand into the ocean and huffed at the night sky. But I’d already made my choice. I had to distract Boras with something good enough to replace her soul. I wasn’t ready to give up the sensations she’d stirred deep inside me. After centuries of psychic starvation, I wasn’t about to give up the feast I’d caught a glimpse of with her in my arms.
I guess if I survive Boras’ temper, I’ll have earned a taste of what Ms. O’Shay has to offer.
The moon stared down balefully at me, its own apathy reflected in the water, but watching it slowly move through the sky, I seemed to remember a time when its soft glow had comforted me.
Marshall Shawn was finished. His soul and his life were mine for the taking, he just didn’t know it yet. I would happily tear his icicle eyes out of his head and wear them around my neck as a warning to others who were like him.
But Darcy was another problem altogether. Her soft skin and the sheer confidence in her made my mouth water, my hands ache to hold the warmest parts of her. No, I wouldn’t be handing Darcy over to anyone, human or hellion, at least not until I understood what she’d birthed in me.
Chapter 7
Darcy
“But he didn’t stay, and the apartment was locked up tight as a drum when you woke up? Why would that worry me? I mean, if he can lock it from the outside, he can unlock it too, but hey that’s no big deal, right?”
I sighed and rolled my eyes at Paris from across the table. “I feel like I should never have told you about Shawn’s work.”
“Am I wrong?” she retorted. “No, I am not, and you know it.”
“If he wanted to do something to me, he would’ve. He had a plethora of opportunities.”
Paris held her head in in her hands. “You’re still completely dismissing the part where he might be the one who attacked you in the first place, just to make you trust him.”
“He’s an incubus, Paris. I offered to let him spend the night and he refused. If making me trust him was the goal, he missed a pretty big opening there.” She gave me a long look. “I’m not saying I think he’s a hero or even a good guy. I’m just saying he had lots of chances to hurt me and he was mad I refused a trip to the hospital.”
She sighed and sipped her coffee, leaning back in the booth. “So we find that Shawn is wrong about his entire job and area of expertise. Color me surprised.”
“Or he lied.”
“Or that.” She shrugged and rubbed her temple. “DeVries is hot, refuses to take advantage of you, and is pretty much the opposite of everything Shawn was. Sounds like the perfect rebound guy, once I get past the word, ‘demon’.”
“Hey, if demon hunters are like Shawn, then maybe the demons aren’t the bad guys,” I retorted. Paris didn’t bother to argue. She’d hated Shawn from the moment she’d met him. In fact, she’d been so right about him, I had to rethink my argument. “Are you really worried about DeVries? I mean, I may never even see him again.”
She shook her head and watched me over the lipstick stained lip of her paper coffee cup. “I’m Catholic, Darcy. The word demon gives me a visceral reaction. But he sounds okay. Just keep your head on straight and don’t trust so quickly this time around.” She glanced around and leaned toward me conspiratorially. “Are you sure this DeVries guy is the demon, not Shawn?”
I choked on my latte and patted frothy splatter off my chin as I snickered. “Honestly, the thought had already occurred to me.” Behind the humor was fear that choked my laughter. We sat for a few minutes in silence, probably thinking the same thing.
I left Paris to her work after our coffee and croissants, heading into the bar to tell Orson about the night I’d had. The cleaning crew had already left and my day shift had arrived and were prepping the dining room for the lunch crowd that would arrive in a few hours. Colette, my day server, had already taken down the chairs and replaced the napkins and menus on the tables. She was humming to herself and cutting lemons and limes behind the bar, ignoring the noise and bustle in the kitchen.
“Hey, O, you back there?” I dashed past and deposited my purse in the office, carefully unwrapping my perfume bottle and placing it on a shelf. I couldn’t have explained why I’d brought it in with me. I simply knew I couldn’t bear to be too far from it.
Either you’re getting sentimental in your old age, or you think you’re going to actually use it.
I ignored my inner voice and worked on the books, the bottle glinting at me from time to time as the sun flashed through the clouds and struck my desk. Even the dust particles hanging in the air seemed to avoid the bottle, floating through the occasional sunbeams to light on my computer, but veering away from the blown glass as though a breeze had blown it my way.
Bookkeeping, you idiot. No way a demon walks through your door and begs to be besotted with you. I had to agree with my inner voice, even though I enjoyed the fantasy. “Ranger DeVries begging…That would be something to witness.”
The door to my office flew open and I jumped and squeaked in surprise and embarrassment as Orson burst in with a plate in his hands. “Try it. Try it and tell me what you think.”
The plate was as beautiful as any Michelin starred restaurant could deliver, with medium rare medallions of some kind of meat resting on a bed of bok choy, fragrantly steaming both salty and sweet.
I placed one juicy bite on my tongue and let the flavors of soy, garlic, and hoisin sauce roll over the inside of my mouth. “Okay, ‘cuz. Your talents are, once again, wasted on this place.” I chewed and swallowed, a musky gamy aftertaste replacing the other flavors. “What is it?”
He grinned, his chest puffed out like a rooster. “I found a great deal on some elk. I’m going to put it on the menu as a special.”
“There’s no way the guys who come in here will let you take it off the menu once they’ve tried it, so don’t put it on there until you have a good supplier.” I snagged a second piece with the fork before he could take the plate away. “Hey, I’m injured, remember? I need to get my strength up.”
Orson reached out with his free hand and touched my temple. “How are you feeling? When I got your texts, I was so mad at myself. I’ll never let you walk to your car alone again.”
“O, how were you to know? I still don’t know what happened. If there hadn’t been a good Samaritan,” I held my hand up to silence him as he started to argue. “I had this fight with Paris, and she’s more stubborn than you are. It wasn’t Ranger. He has no reason to pretend to rescue me. I’d already offered him the goods.”
“Oh geez. I don’t want to know about your flirting.”
“And I won’t tell you, so long as you swear to never tell me about Paris.” I held out my hand and he shook hit vigorously.
“Get out of here. Go take a nap, come back later if you still feel okay. I don’t like you working with a head wound.”
“Can you find my head wound? Because I think the blood was just from a scratch, and it’s healed over already. I’m fine, Orson. I promise.”
“Then go on, get something sexy on for when he comes in to check on you.”
I shook my head. “I doubt he will. He didn’t say he’d be by.”
“No, but he will, so go get ready.” He noticed the bottle on the edge of the desk. “That’s cool. Looks like it belongs in a fish tank.”
With a gasp of mock disgust, I flapped my hands at him to chase him off. “No slimy fish near my present. Paris brought it back for me.”
Orson backed out of the office, pausing in the doorway with a mischievous glint in his eye. “The present she gave me was better.” I threw an empty manila folder at him as I threatened to chase him out. He snickered and disappeared, and I cleaned up my mess.
Paris and Orson. I never thought they’d actually get together. I’m impressed. And I was happy for them too. Paris is a woman who knows what she wants and gets it. Orson is a guy who has always been too hard at work to real
ize he could have a life, too. And you wasted over two years on a guy, just because he was determined to have you.
Not like DeVries. I was still irritated by his gallantry. I’d even let myself seem weaker to get him to come up with me…not my finest moment. “Your damsel in distress routine probably made him hate you. The one time you try to be that female…” I exhaled long and slow and shook it off. It didn’t matter anyway. Either I’d see him again, or he’d pick up the soul he’d missed and leave for wherever he came from.
To distract myself from my remaining headache and the disappointment that I’d probably never see my devilish hero again, I texted Paris that I’d be shopping, if she wanted to join me. I never could feel shame that I love retail therapy. Shawn had mocked me mercilessly for my shoe collection, but when we lived together, our apartment had looked like a munition depot from all his weapons and ammo. Everyone has something they love to spend money on.
My love of a fine leather pump wouldn’t kill anyone, and O’Shay’s success had made it a safe hobby. Or at least that’s what I told myself every time I headed over to the outlet mall to hunt for my next irresistible pair of heels.
Paris was in meetings, so I spent the afternoon alone. It made it harder to avoid thinking about the dark-eyed, dark-haired demon who had come to my rescue. Everything about him was exotic to me, from the dark chocolate hair that fell below his shoulders, to his ever-changing eyes.
You’re jonesing for a demon. Could you be anymore cliché?
I silenced my inner logic by conjuring an image of him, standing over me under the flickering kitchen light of the bar. His shirt had strained across his chest as he’d stood over me, poised for an attack. No, he hadn’t been the one to hurt me. His reaction to seeing me had been instant alarm, and to protect me…even from my own poor decision-making.
I found three pairs of shoes I knew I needed to have, and talked myself down to two, wearing a black patent pair of peep-toe ‘fuck me’ heels back to work. The lifts on the shoes pushed me close to six feet, taller than many of my patrons, and wearing sky heels always made me feel powerful.
The day staff were already finishing up their side jobs as my night crew got to work, Gloria writing Orson’s specials on our blackboard and Kurt scrubbing tables within an inch of their lives. Gloria caught my eye as I tied my apron around my waist and scanned my face.
“I’m fine, Glo. I promise.”
She narrowed her eyes at me and shrugged. “Whatever, I just don’t want you collapsing on us tonight and leaving me to tend to customers and their drinks.”
I popped a kiss on her heavily rouged cheek and snaked an arm around her for a hug before she could stop me. “I’m sorry I got everyone worried. I promise, I’m okay. Look, new shoes! I managed to hike the entire outlet without getting dizzy or weak, not even once.”
She huffed at me and wiped the kiss off her cheek, but her shoulders relaxed. “What about that hot guy from last night? Anything happen with him after he chased ‘El douche’ off?”
I rolled my eyes at her latest nickname for Shawn. “No. He’s the one who got me home after I got clocked last night, and then he left, a perfect gentleman.”
“Good. If I found out he’d taken advantage of you, I’d shoot him.”
“Shoot who?”
Gloria’s eyes went wide as saucers at the sound of Shawn’s voice. My stomach cramped and I took a deep breath, exhaling slowly before I pivoted to face him. “Shoot the asshole who attacked me from behind then ran off like a coward,” I replied, proud my voice stayed even.
His jaw clenched and released, but he didn’t register any shock. “I know who did it.”
Gloria scoffed and took a step toward him, but I motioned her away. “I’ll finish up here, Gloria, can you make sure Orson doesn’t need any other assistance in the kitchen before the factory bell rings? More of a siren than a bell, the factory still employed the traditional end-of-day signal that warned us hungry, thirsty men were about to pour through our doors.
“Let’s go back to your office, Darce. You need to hear what I have to say.”
Shawn took a step toward me and I backed away, pointing at one of the empty tables against the wall. “Have a seat, Shawn. I’ll be with you when I can.”
“Don’t put me off, Darcy.”
“Stop. Not another word. Sit your ass down and I will be back when I can. I have a business to run, in case you forgot. I don’t spend my days in here waiting for you to harass me.”
He took a seat, glowering at me from under a backlit Budweiser sign.
I waved hello to a couple of men who grinned back, their expressions darkening when they saw Shawn seated in the booth. One of them turned towards us and I shook my head, beaming at them with al my strength. “Sit at the bar, guys, I want to hear about your day.”
They took the advice and turned back to the bar, and I jabbed my finger at Shawn. “I know, I know. Stay put, don’t cause any trouble. God, were you always this big a bitch?”
My jaw clenched, I started to turn away, then thought again. “The fact that you think asking you to respect my workplace and not harass me or my customers makes me a bitch, says a lot more about you, than me.”
I strode back to the bar, my heart pounding, fighting the urge to run behind the safety of the counter. More men had entered behind me, and soon I was too busy pouring pitchers and pints to remember how scared I’d been at standing up to his red-faced fury.
Occasionally, I glanced over at his table, where he sat, fuming and staring at his phone. The first wave of regulars dispersed, and as more men and women came in, shouting their hellos, he seemed to become more agitated.
“Hey, Glo? I need you to take the bar for a minute. Shawn looks like he’s about to implode. I need him out of here.”
She shot me a look but moved behind the bar. “I told Orson he’s here so he could keep an eye out for trouble. Maybe you should warn him before you go over there.”
I did as she asked and stuck my head into the kitchen to tell my cousin to beware the incoming storm and headed back out to Shawn, if for no other reason than to let him talk so he could leave. I could see Shawn’s jaw working from across the room. Great, he’s had time to work himself into a bigger lather.
“All right, what brings you back here so soon after you nearly caused a brawl in my bar, Marshall?”
He sneered at the use of his title, but I watched his shoulders square a little as he was reminded of his obligations. Here there were witnesses. He couldn’t continue to come in and pick fights, expecting to punch his frequent flier card with the boys in blue, and he knew it.
He motioned for me to sit across from him and leaned forward. “That…man who was in here last night,” he hissed, “was a demon, I’m sure of it.”
“Yes, I know.” I leaned back in my seat and folded my arms. “It was the man ready to tear my bar apart, to hurt me, and it was the demon who protected and rescued me.” I slid out from the seat and leaned against the booth. “Get the hell out of my bar, Shawn. You aren’t welcome here, and I’m not willing to put up with your disturbances any longer. Don’t come back, we will call the police.”
He jumped to his feet, his face inches from mine, and my heart jumped into my throat. “Go ahead, call them. See if they come once they know you harbor demons.” he scoffed. “See if they ever come again when you call them.”
“I’m reporting you to your superiors for threatening me, my bar, and trying to weaponize the police against us. I can’t imagine I’ll be the first, Shawn. With all the witnesses you’ve given me who are willing to testify against you if needed, and there are a shit-ton, if you’ll pardon my language; you’re going to have a hard time silencing them.”
I felt a familiar warmth behind me, and Shawn backed up a step, staring over my shoulder. “You need to get out, man. You’re upsetting the other patrons.” Orson’s voice was low and calm, but even Shawn had to hear the threat underneath. “Just because I haven’t kicked your ass yet, doesn’t m
ean I don’t want to, or that I couldn’t.”
Part of me was jumping out of my skin, wanting to bounce up and down on my toes and fist pump at the real fear I saw flit across Shawn’s face. Instead, I clenched my arms tighter across my body and bit the inside of my cheek to keep the disgust off my face. Orson could hold his own in a fight. I no longer had any faith that Shawn would respect any sort of rules of engagement, and I knew he was armed, even if I couldn’t see his weapons.
But Orson had his own ideas of how to get him out of our hair. He stepped between us, forcing me back as he took my place toe to toe with my ex-boyfriend in a way that I’d never have imagined a man would need to protect me. I was angry with Shawn, and furious with myself for letting him stick around so long just to avoid the worst possible outcome, only to see it happening anyway.
“You heard the man. Time for you to go.” I hadn’t raised my voice, but a few of the customers had taken notice and men and women alike were pushing their chairs back from their tables. Greg and Barry, the two I’d invited to sit at the bar, had already hopped down and were standing just at the edge of my peripheral vision, fists at their sides. “We’re done, Shawn. I wish you nothing but the best in life. Now please leave and never come back.”
He stormed out, the double steel doors slamming shut behind him, and the room let out a collective sigh of relief, patrons taking their seats and resuming their conversations.
“Orson, he can’t come back here. We have to file a report with the police.” He nodded and tossed me my apron.
“You’d better call them quick, then. Evening rush is just getting started.”
I flashed him a dirty look and he grinned. Leave it to family to remind you that there are more important things in life than your failed love life. Like pouring beers and listening to others complain about theirs.
Love Potion: A Valentine's Day Charity Anthology Page 4
