by Rick Hautala
But she also couldn’t tell him to get out of her life. He did so many things that—right or wrong, good or evil—made her feel good.
And how can that be wrong?
She rolled over onto her side and was staring at him, his head cradled in the soft well of the pillow. Her thoughts drifted back to the things they had done last night after they had gotten back to her apartment. A warm glow radiated from her stomach and into her chest, arms, and legs. Her forehead was warm, too, as if she were running a slight fever. The word “content” came to mind, and that seemed apt enough; but she wasn’t sure any word could come close to describing the levels of pleasure she—no, they—had experienced last night. Even a demon like Samael couldn’t have faked or masked the physical and emotional release he, too, received from their encounter.
She recoiled when Samael’s eyes suddenly snapped open, and he was staring at her, fully alert without the slightest hint of sleepiness in his gold-flecked eyes.
“Jesus!” she said, and then she immediately covered her mouth with her hand when she saw his reaction. “Sorry.”
“It’s all right,” Samael said. “I guess I…I’ll have to get used to hearing things that used to cause me considerable pain in the past.”
When Claire nodded, her head made the pillow stuffing crackle like a string of firecrackers going off inside her head.
“I don’t have to get up for work for a while yet,” she said.
She wasn’t sure if she wanted to go another round before she got out of bed. She certainly didn’t want to walk into work bowlegged.
“So you’re going to work today?”
“Of course. I’ve got bills to pay.”
Samael’s face twitched into a funny expression. He looked like he’d just bitten into a lemon. He passed his hand over her head and wound his fingers into the flame-red curls.
“I was thinking you didn’t have to have a job anymore,” he said.
Claire looked at him, not sure she had heard him correctly.
“I thought…I was hoping that from now on I could…take care of you.”
Whoa, hold on there, Charlie, Claire thought.
“That’s—umm.” She shook her head and heard more faint crackling sounds from the pillow. “You’re being a touch hasty, there, don’t you think?”
Samael gripped the top of the bedcovers and tossed them aside, exposing the entirety of his naked body. Claire couldn’t help but try to take it all in and was surprised to see that she no longer reacted at the sight of his lack of genitals. Her mouth actually began to salivate when she looked at his long, sinuous tail curling and twitching on the edge of the bed.
“I thought after everything we talked about last night you would…you know, be okay with that.”
Claire sniffed and said, “Don’t get me wrong, Samael. I can’t stand my job—especially my fucking boss—but there’s no way I…” She shook her head, determined. “I’m not ready to quit just yet. I can’t afford to be…you know…”
Her voice drifted away because of the utter disappointment that washed across Samael’s face.
“I was hoping I could take care of you from now on,” he repeated, a little wistfully.
His words sent an electric jolt through her, but it was equal amounts of fear and thrill.
“What do you mean, ‘take care’?”
Samael smiled sweetly, the most irresistible smile Claire had ever seen.
“I think you know exactly what I mean. I mean we should—I want to live with you, and since I already have a house and more than enough money, and no roommate, I don’t see why you can’t quit your job and move in.”
“Today?”
“Yes, today.”
“That’s a pretty big step, don’t you think?”
“Imagine the satisfaction you’ll get when you call your boss and tell him you won’t be in today…or ever!” He paused, and the smile on his face now was positively devilish. “Unless you want to do it in person, so you can see and savor the expression on his face.”
Claire rolled away from him and, self-conscious, now, of her nakedness, clutched the bedcovers to her body.
“I’m sorry,” Samael said. “Did I say something wrong? I didn’t mean to rush things.”
He eased himself out of bed and, entirely unselfconscious, walked around to her side of the bed and, bending down, took her into his arms. His embrace was tight…and hot. For a moment, she resisted, but then she caught a whiff of his scent—musky and strong—and yielded to the steel bands of his arm muscles crushing her against his chest. How could she resist?
“I know I’m jumping the gun here,” he whispered into the cup of her ear. The heat of his breath on her neck sent tingles rippling through her. “But I thought…after last night…that you understood.”
There he goes again, Claire thought, back to his same old self, but the moment was tinged with as much sympathy and love as bitterness and doubt.
Maybe more sympathy.
Her heart went out to him, and she recalled how vehemently last night he had vowed to her not only that he loved her, but that he was going to do everything in his power to redeem himself, to reclaim his soul.
“Oh, I do understand. Believe me,” Claire said. Her voice was muffled against his chest. The mere touch of him nearly took her breath away. “But I…Shouldn’t we be, you know, like, cautious?”
“Cautious? Whatever for? Life’s for the living…and the taking.”
She knew she was on the edge of a precipice, and that what she said or did next would have tremendous consequences. She was painfully aware that she could end up involved in something that was way beyond her. It would be difficult—if not impossible—to control or get out of.
But he was an irresistible force.
And she was hardly an immovable object.
Slowly, she peeled herself from his embrace and looked at him, her eyes blinking rapidly to force away the tears that were gathering there.
“What are you saying, really?” she asked.
She searched his gold-flecked eyes…eyes that looked so inhuman…trying to see beneath the surface to the being—not the person…the spiritual being inside him. He held her gaze steadily, unblinking as he nodded ever so slowly.
“Yes, Claire McMullen.” He took a breath as though this was extraordinarily difficult for him, but he finished with, “I want to marry you.”
~ * ~
The greasy-haired jeweler slid the ring onto Claire’s hand, his touch lingering perhaps a bit too long. Samael shifted uncomfortably and stared at the man.
“Now this is our very best. Practically flawless. Just look at the fire.” His smile was more of a smirk, and he seemed to be aware that Samael was watching him closely. “It’s almost as bright as your hair.”
“You like it?” Samael asked.
“Are you kidding? I love it!”
Claire extended her hand and turned it from side to side, admiring the diamond on her left ring finger. One and a half carats, and blazing with light. The platinum band had delicate scrollwork along the edges. It was perfect. She had never dared dream that she would ever wear…much less own…a ring like this.
The clerk behind the counter seemed pleased, but it was obvious he was only pleased that he had up-sold them. The ring cost more than half of Claire’s annual salary… before taxes.
“Plus, we guarantee that none of our diamonds are blood diamonds—”
“Too bad,” Samael said, and then he glanced at Claire to make sure she got that he was joking.
“This particular stone is from—”
“Please,” Samael said with a casual wave of the hand. “Spare me the sales pitch.”
Claire glanced at him again, catching the edge in his voice that she didn’t appreciate. Was he baiting this guy? Please, not here. Not now. She wanted to treasure this moment, unsullied. But it seemed as soon as they started dealing with this jeweler—His nametag read: Jeremy—Samael had slipped back into his old ways. The mocker
y, the taunting tone in his voice was obvious—to her, anyway—and the icy gleam in his gold-flecked eyes made it all too clear that, under any other circumstance, Samael would have done something absolutely horrible to this poor man who was, after all, simply trying to make a living.
“Can we—can you afford it?” Claire asked, turning to Samael so her back was to the clerk. She put her fingers to her lips, and he got the message to ease off the guy.
“Of course I can…Whatever you want, dear.”
She deliberated with herself, but only for a moment. She couldn’t believe this was actually happening, and she didn’t want to say or do anything that might burst the bubble only to wake up and discover she had been dreaming all along.
“I love it,” she said.
“Then it’s yours.”
Samael turned to the clerk and, in a totally different tone of voice—this one icy with command—said, “When can you have it ready?”
“We can size and fit it, and have it ready for you in…three days, if that’s satisfactory.”
Before Samael could say anything, Claire said, “That will be perfect.”
“Excellent,” the clerk said. “So when’s the happy day?”
Claire froze where she stood.
“We haven’t set a date yet,” Samael said, his voice as smooth as oil. “But soon.” He and Claire exchanged glances, but there was no way she could read his mind.
“Well, you two seem very happy together,” Jeremy said. “Now, if you’ll step over here, we can execute the paperwork.”
Fifteen minutes later, Claire and Samael walked out of the jewelry store holding hands. Claire noticed that Samael’s hand was hotter than normal, and as they crossed the parking lot to his car, she couldn’t help but comment on it.
“Why’s your hand so hot?”
“Is it?”
“Very.”
“I don’t think it is.”
It was a sunny day, but the wind was still coming in off the ocean. It had a damp coldness that bit through her coat, making her shiver.
“It most definitely is,” she said as much to herself as to him.
She knew by his reaction that something was up. And he obviously didn’t want to talk about it, but it was clear he was holding something back from her.
“So tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing’s the matter.”
“Honest?”
The final proof that something was, indeed, the matter came when he kept walking, looking straight ahead and studiously avoiding eye contact with her instead of stopping and talking to her. She drew to a sudden stop in the middle of the parking lot.
“Tell me right now. What is it?”
Samael tried to avert his gaze, shifting his gold-flecked eyes back and forth, but he was unable to make or maintain eye contact for long. He looked like a guilty schoolchild.
“Samael…” She took hold of both his arms, grabbing his thin coat above the elbows, and shook him. “Come on. Out with it.”
At last, he looked at her, and the cold, hard gleam in his eyes returned. The pupils of his gold-flecked eyes widened and darkened. They looked like melted chocolate. His mouth drooped down at both corners.
“If you really must know,” he said, still acting like a scolded schoolboy, “I did something…wrong.”
“Wrong?”
“Okay, something evil.”
“What?” She looked at him with shocked surprise, but he didn’t speak. When she gasped in frustration, her breath came out as a huge, white ball of steam.
“Back there—” He twitched his head in the direction of the jewelry store. “In the jeweler’s. I did something I shouldn’t have.”
“What did you do?”
A chill wrapped its fingers around Claire’s heart, and her first thought was: If this is how it’s always going to be with him, then maybe I’m not sure I can take it.
But she didn’t say anything, and she didn’t turn away. When he tried to break her hold on his arms, she tightened it. Then, with one hand, she took him by the chin and turned his head so he had to face her.
“Tell me…right now.”
“I—”
He stopped and, instead of using words, he shoved his left hand into his coat pocket and then withdrew it. His fist was clenched, but when he opened it ever so slowly, she saw that he was holding several diamond rings and some other unmounted precious stones.
Claire’s eyes bugged out in surprise. A sudden rush of heat drove the cold away as her face flushed. She swallowed, and her throat made a loud gulping sound.
“What did you—? Are you crazy?”
Samael sighed, the most heart-wrenching sigh Claire had ever heard in her life. He looked genuinely pained, but that didn’t negate Claire’s anger.
“Why did you do that?” She was struggling to keep her voice down. There were a few people passing by, and she didn’t want to draw any attention.
Before he could answer her, she took him by the hand as if he were a small boy and guided him toward the car. Her boot heels clicked on the frozen pavement, sounding like a metronome. He fumbled to put the jewelry back into his coat pocket, and then he took out his key ring and pressed the button for the remote keyless entry. The car chirped twice as the doors unlocked, and he walked with her to the passenger’s side and opened the door. She shot him a withering glance before she sat down in the passenger’s seat and yanked the door closed. He was grimacing as he walked around the front of the car to the driver’s side and got in.
“So,” she said, crossing her arms and turning to face him.
“So,” he said.
“Explain yourself,” she said, “because as far as I can see, there’s no good explanation for what you did.”
Samael licked his lips as though there was something tasty on them, and he wanted to get every last bit before he spoke. He sat with both hands on the steering wheel while staring straight ahead.
“I slipped up,” he finally said.
“I’ll say you did,” Claire said, sniffing with sarcastic laughter.
“I know…This is tough, you know? I mean, giving up a way of life that I’ve followed for…well, longer than you can imagine.”
Still, Claire said nothing. She couldn’t stop thinking about how she didn’t want anything he had to offer her…not if it was stolen.
Was everything he owned—his house, this car, his fancy clothes, everything he owned—stolen property?
What did he intend to do with those rings and stones?
Give them to her?
Or someone else?
Maybe he had a whole stable of girlfriends he was working to corrupt. Regardless, she certainly wasn’t going to accept anything that was stolen.
“Tell me why you did it.”
Samael shifted his gaze back and forth, and then he looked at her. He swallowed hard and then took a deep breath.
“I wanted to get that clerk into trouble,” he finally said.
“Oh? And why is that? And don’t give me any of this ‘it’s what I do’ bullshit.”
Samael’s eyes blinked rapidly, and Claire couldn’t help but wonder if he was madly concocting another lie to try to float past her.
“Well, it is what I do…or what I used to do…what I don’t want to do anymore, but that guy—” Samael let out a watery snort that sounded remarkably horselike in the close confines of the car. “That guy was getting on my nerves.”
“He was just doing his job,” Claire said mildly even as she thought how she hadn’t really liked the man, either. He had struck her as pretentious and a bit full of himself, faking an elegance and sophistication that were little more than skin deep—just to make a big sale. But then, she and Samael were only there to get an engagement ring. It wasn’t like they wanted to be lifelong friends with him.
“Yeah, but there was…” Samael sighed deeply, his eyes silently pleading with Claire for understanding. “You hav
e to admit, he was irritating. I decided to take this stuff because I knew—I know that he’ll be held responsible, and that he’ll end up losing his job because of it. I…I’ve met him before, and I’ve been working to…to—”
“Get him to damn himself,” Claire finished for him.
Samael nodded slowly and said in a feeble voice, “It is what I do, dear.”
“Not anymore, you don’t,” Claire said emphatically.
Samael studied her, his gold-flecked eyes dark and glistening. She wondered if he was trying to hypnotize her, to get her to accept that he was what he was, and maybe he could never change.
“So what do you want me to do?” he asked, sounding like a schoolboy who’d been caught being naughty.
“I want you to take them back,” she said simply.
“Right now?”
“Of course right now.”
“I can’t do that. I’d get arrested.”
“Maybe that would do you some good.”
Samael shook his head and said, “You sound like you really mean that.”
“Maybe I do.”
Samael laughed, and his laugh was loud and booming in the close confines of the car.
“You do realize that no jail can hold me, right? I could get away or get out anytime I want to.”
“Oh, yeah? Then why are you so afraid about going back to the store and returning what you stole.”
“I’m not afraid.”
“You seem it to me.”
“I’m not, it’s just that it’s…complicated.” His demeanor softened.
“It isn’t yours, and I sure as Hell don’t want it.”
“It isn’t his, either.” Samael grit his teeth and shook his head in frustration. “Like I said, I know that guy. He’s been lifting merchandise from that store on a regular basis. He’s got a system worked out that he thinks is foolproof, that he’ll never get caught, but with this much going missing all at once, the owner’s bound to pin it on him. It’s not really any of your concern.”
Claire didn’t like the way he was trying so hard to justify what he had done. He was wrong, plain and simple, and it frustrated her that he couldn’t see or admit it.