I Married a Demon

by Beverly Rae

  “Hey, darlin’.”

  The endearment he used—one he’d never used before—thrust me from my twilight slumber mode to full alert. I sent a silent emergency call toward Heaven. Please, God, tell me Partner hasn’t grown arms and hopped into bed with me. Thankfully, Blake’s lips on my neck identified my husband.

  “Darlin’? Since when have you ever called me darlin’?” Could he have found Partner in my car, forced the communication device to spill the beans, and blown my cover as a Protector? Or had he been dreaming of a saloon gal straight out of the Old West?

  His chuckle warmed not only my earlobe, but the chill lingering inside my heart. How could such a sweet guy have anything to do with the Otherworld? Answer? He couldn’t. To think he could was simply ludicrous. Maybe I needed another vacation. I wouldn’t mind another week sipping pink-colored drinks if Blake was there to rub suntan lotion on my legs.

  “Roger Wheatland talked about this new western movie he’d seen the other day. He said it was horrible because every other word was ‘darlin’.”

  I leaned into his next chuckle, enjoying the sensation of his warm breath on my skin. I quickly cleansed my mind of the cowboy images popping up and pictured white sands and soothing waves instead.

  “Like real cowboys actually speak that way. I guess maybe the word stuck in my mind and I also guess you’re saying you don’t like it?”

  Suddenly, Partner’s cowboy waved from the beach chair next to me. Ack. “From you? No, I don’t.”

  He rose on his elbow, leaned over my shoulder, and gave me a look. “What do you mean, from me? Do you have someone else who calls you darlin’?”

  Oops. Yes. Sort of. “Of course not. I, uh, like the other names you call me better.” I flipped onto my back and tugged my pajama top down over my abdomen. I couldn’t let Blake see any bruises or scratches. He’d ask too many question if he did. However, that didn’t mean I couldn’t do a little survey of my own.

  Protectors know that once someone becomes a demon, his body gets branded with a set of numbers. You know. Like Damian’s 666 number in the movie The Omen. Yeah, people think screenwriters make up all that stuff in the movies, but I know better. Personally, I think it’s God’s little way of getting in the last word. Satan may rule the demon, but the Big Guy─not George─but the really big guy still has His finger in the mix. Sometimes, if you caught the demon in a vulnerable position you could find a hidden sign buried under hair and folds of skin.

  Oh, sure. I’d seen Blake’s naked body plenty of times both in the dark and in the daytime. And I’d never seen any numbers or letters on him. He had one small panther tattoo on his butt cheek, but lots of people had tats nowadays, right? Still, I’d never cared to explore some of the deeper, um, less attractive crevices—if you get my meaning. At least, not with my eyes.

  Trying to seem normal about it, I kicked off the sheet covering his body and cast my gaze along his long sexy torso. I paused my survey for a more in-depth perusal of his bat and balls, and the heat started rising. Having a hubby who likes to sleep commando-style comes in handy sometimes.

  Okay. A lot of times.

  “Are you enjoying the view?”

  I blushed, not from his words but from getting caught checking him out. Of course, he didn’t know the reason for my attention wasn’t what he thought it was. “Sure.” I sought his eyes and wiggled my eyebrows. “In fact, I was thinking I hadn’t seen enough of you. Not nearly enough. I think it’s time for some exploration.”

  Blake caught my innuendo and I scooted down the bed. I was about to give the meaning of the word exploration a whole new twist in the line of duty. Fortunately, this was the type of exploration he would love.

  I cupped his jewels in my hands and received an appreciative groan for my efforts. Playing with them in a sexy way, I made sure I saw every centimeter of their testicular glory. Blake’s breathing became more labored and I became more engrossed in my examination of his package.

  “Jenn, babe, don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”

  A moan escaped him, giving me encouragement to continue my voyage around his body. I fondled one ball after the other, checking for anything abnormal. Reaching down to me, he tried to grab my hair, but I shook him off. “Knock it off. I’m busy here.”

  “No shit. Please. Don’t let me disturb you.”

  “Trust me. You won’t.” Deciding I needed to do more to keep him under my control, I licked his shaft from the tip to the bottom while scanning every inch of his skin.

  “Oh, man, Jenn. You’re killing me. Killing me good.”

  He started to sit up, but I pushed him back down. “No. Stay. Let the professional realtor examine your prime property.” Yeah, I know. Pretty lame, but my concentration was on the search at—in—hand.

  He obeyed, reaching over his head to grip the slats of the headboard. “Hey, we both have needs, you know. How about me helping you with yours?”

  I mumbled a negative reply and slid my mouth over his organ. I’d seen no signs of demonic possession which meant I could stop looking. Instead, I giggled and made the not-so-tough decision to keep the hunt going. Thoroughness, thy name is Jenn.

  Blake was definitely in the thick of things with his panting growing louder. He kept reaching for me and I kept pushing his hands away. I was good at my wifely duties and wanted no interference.

  With careful execution, I brought my delectable hubby to the brink of release. In fact, I’d managed to bring us both to the brink when I suddenly looked down at my bagging PJ top and spotted a big purple bruise on my chest. Letting Blake see the bruise was not an option. Therefore, sexual release—at least for me—would limit my options, if not make it totally impossible.

  This time when he gripped my head, I let him hold on. After all, I wasn’t leaving until the job was completed. He groaned a deep guttural sound and watched me suck and pull.

  “Jenn, come on. Take your pajamas off and get on top of me. I—”

  I loved my power over him. “You what?”

  “I. Want. You. Now.”

  “Sorry, Blake. This is my blow, er, show.”

  I renewed my massage of his shaft, delighting in his cries of pleasure. Although he said no words, I knew what he meant. Warning! Warning! Eruption is imminent! Mount Blake is about to pop his lid! I congratulated myself and waited for the volcano to explode.

  After witnessing what could arguably be called the Eighth Wonder of the World, I suddenly realized I hadn’t searched every place that needed checking. Taking his leg in my hand, I ordered him to flip over.

  “You want me on my stomach?”

  He did as I’d told him, but I could see he had his reservations. And why shouldn’t he? I’d always been a bit squeamish about doing anything with his backside. I’d always preferred sex front and center, and had never ventured near the crater of any moon—even Blake’s.

  “Yeah, I need to check your butt hole.” The words were out of my mouth before I knew I’d said them. Those words had to rank in the Top Ten of the What Not To Say To Your Lover list.

  “Huh? What for? Are you getting kinky on me?”

  I faltered, trying to think of something sexy I could do with his ass without actually having to do something sexual with his ass. I tried and failed. “I’m going to check your body for moles.” Talk about verbal ice water!

  “Moles?” He twisted to gape at me. “Now?”

  “No better time than the present.”

  “I can think of a lot of better times than the present.”

  “Not me.” I tried to meet his confused stare with a confident glare of my own. “I read a man needs a full-body check at least once a year. Stop arguing.” Although I didn’t say the words, my meaning was clear in the tone of voice I used. You owe me. Flip.

  Blake searched my face for a moment, then complied. If he was a demon—which I was ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure he wasn’t—then he was a very cooperative demon.

  Since I no longer needed to hide my examination be
hind sexual play, I didn’t waste a second with subtleties. I pushed his cheeks apart and did a thorough examination. One which, I might add, I never want to do again.

  “Are you satisfied?” He shifted to lie on his back again and gave me the strangest look.

  “Almost.”

  “Almost?” He slid his gaze down his body, visually conducting his own search. “Where else do you need to check? You’ve seen every inch of me. How the hell did fun in the sack turn into a medical exam, anyway?”

  “Not every inch. Sit up.” Reluctantly, he obeyed my order and I maneuvered my body to sit beside him. “Now hunker down a bit and give me your head.”

  A typical Blake smile lit up his face. “I’d love to give you my head.” His smile grew wider. “Or give you head.”

  “Ha, ha. Very funny.” Taking hold of his rich dark hair, I yanked his head over to see his scalp better, then paused to reconsider what I’d passed up. “But I’ll take a rain check on your offer.”

  I fingered through his thick hair, checking each inch of his scalp. Once I was finished, I hugged him to me and let the relief sweep through me. “You’re clean. Thank God, you’re clean.”

  He laughed right before he crushed his mouth to mine for a lingering kiss. When we parted, I was breathless and horny.

  “I may be physically clean, but I’ve got a very dirty mind.”

  “Don’t I know it.” I stretched out my body, conscious of his gaze running over me. Looking sexy in PJs wasn’t easy and keeping my top on during sex would be even harder, but I was up to the task. Besides, I figured it was time for a little doggy action, anyway. I’d already ventured into untried sexual territory, so I figured I might as well keep going with the experimenting. “Hey, do you hear what I hear?”

  He paused to listen, his hand poised over my tit. “No. What do you hear?”

  I wiggled my eyebrows to let him in on the joke. “I hear rain. Now how about cashing in my rain check?”

  ***

  My friend Myra once said, “Satisfy a man and you can get away with anything—including hopping out of bed right after sex.” Myra’s quip kept running through my brain as I dashed out of the house, revved up the Jag and headed toward the office. Partner, however, wasn’t the type of man I knew how to satisfy.

  “Darlin’, unlike someone who’s been taking it easy, I’ve been doing research.”

  I curled my lip at him and pressed harder on the gas. “Hey, I’ve worked today. Just because I wasn’t bent over a keyboard or striking down a shifter doesn’t mean I haven’t been working.”

  “Oh, right. You’ve been putting yourself out—ahem—in the pursuit of finding the Bracelet.” Maybe it was my imagination, but his beeps sounded like snickers.

  I grumbled under my breath, not wanting to go into detail about my morning’s work.

  “Anyway, I found out the following fun facts about the Bracelet. Remember the Bracelet? The powerful weapon you’re supposed to be looking for? Or have you forgotten about your job in your quest to satisfy your libido?”

  I guided the Jag around a sharp corner, purposely making him slide across the leather to hover near the edge of the seat. “I haven’t forgotten.” Who did this glorified cell phone think he was, anyway? He hadn’t even gotten his first batteries by the time I’d managed several years of topnotch Protector assignments under my belt. “And how the hell do you know anything about my libido?”

  “Puh-lease. I have my sources. Suffice it to say a lamp is not always just a lamp.”

  I started to ask for an explanation and decided I didn’t want to know. At least, for now. But later, my house would get a big-time surveillance cleaning along with a new lamp in the bedroom. “You said you had info on the Bracelet?”

  “Well, then, pretty woman, listen up.”

  Pretty woman? Did he mean like Julia Roberts? Or Miss Kitty? Nonetheless, I listened up.

  “You know the usual things, correct? Like how it’s a gold bracelet with an inscription inside?”

  “Yeah. Tell me something I don’t know.”

  I slammed to a stop at a red light. The man in the next car caught me talking to Partner, but he didn’t seem interested. Ever since the invention of handless cell phone sets in cars, I could talk to an unseen anyone—or anything—without my fellow commuters thinking I was as wacky as the local bag lady who talked to her toes.

  “Well, how about this? An agent who tracks energy sources and the corresponding output picked up a reading like the one the Bracelet makes.”

  I got a little excited. “Yeah? Where did it come from?”

  A happy whirring sound preceded Partner’s answer. “Here. Right here in Tulsa.”

  My excitement level doubled. “Here? Great. The thieves didn’t take it out of town. Did he pinpoint a location?”

  “Yes and no.”

  I glanced at Partner before turning back to the road. Biting my figurative tongue to resist yelling at him, I even managed to keep my tone calm. “Would you care to explain?” I tried to hang onto my optimism, but it sagged anyway.

  “He picked up the reading at a flea market.”

  “You’re kidding.” I pulled into the Swindle Realty lot and parked. Picking up Partner, I watched the cowboy tip his hat to me in a gentlemanly fashion. “And?”

  “And they did a thorough search of the market and turned up nothing.”

  “Which means we’re back to square one,” I scoffed. I slipped Partner into my pocket and made quick time into the office. “Great work—not.”

  “Jenn!”

  For a second, I contemplated hiding under the nearest desk. If Swindle wanted to chew my ass out again, he’d have to find me first. Instead, I returned Myra’s wave. She hopped up from behind the receptionist’s desk and inconspicuously headed my way. Knowing she’d follow, I diverted into the Blue Room, one of the many rooms we used for private client-agent discussions.

  “Jenn, I have stupendous news.” Myra shut the door and bounced up and down, barely able to contain herself.

  “Cool. You passed your real estate licensing exam, right?”

  I knew Myra couldn’t care less about selling real estate, but Swindle insisted all his support staff take a real estate course and pass the test. Everyone had, except Myra. Contrary to Herbie’s belief, not everyone wanted to be an agent. But since the super-tight Swindle paid for the courses, his employees signed up figuring it was a good way to make the boss happy and possibly earn a raise.

  “Puh! What do I care about passing some stupid exam? And no, I didn’t pass. Again. I want to give up, but Swindle won’t let me.” She rolled her eyes before getting back on the original tack. “Besides, I don’t need to sell houses to make money. I won money yesterday.”

  I brought up a list of houses on the computer and pretended to scope them out for a prospective client. “Yeah? You won? Terrific.”

  Myra was a lottery scratch-off ticket junkie, but as long as she didn’t go berserk and gamble her life savings away, I was okay with it. After a year of playing and an indeterminate amount of (in my opinion, wasted) money, she’d won a grand total of fifty-three dollars. “I guess you can buy me a cup of coffee today.”

  “Girl, forget the coffee. I’m buying you lunch or dinner at Ragino’s.”

  I stopped pretending to look at the house descriptions on the screen and spun my chair around to face her. “Wow. Dinner at Ragino’s. You must’ve won a bunch. Like maybe as much as a hundred?”

  “Think more. Think five hundred.”

  I clapped in delight and high-fived her. “No kidding? You did this with a scratch-off ticket?”

  “I sure did.”

  I hugged her to me, absorbing some of her excitement. “Amazing. I need to try my luck sometime. Where did you buy the ticket?”

  Myra kept hugging herself even after I let her go. “You know the big flea market out on Interstate Forty? They have a booth selling lottery tickets now. Cool, huh?”

  “Yeah, cool.” Could this be the same flea mar
ket Partner had mentioned? “By the way, did you happen to notice anything unusual while you were there?” I didn’t know what I expected, but if someone had used the Bracelet at the flea market maybe Myra had noticed.

  “Nope. Nada. People milling around looking for bargains like usual. Why?”

  My hope deflated faster than a man’s penis in ice water. “Oh, no reason.”

  “Darlin’, I hate to interrupt, but you’ve got mail.”

  Myra jumped and twirled around, searching for the owner of the deep voice. “Who was that?”

  I took Partner out of my pocket and held up the screen for her to see. Cowboy Partner twirled a rope with one hand and tipped his hat with the other. “Howdy, ma’am.”

  “Sheesh, Partner, don’t you think you’re taking this cowboy theme a bit far? I mean, ‘howdy’?”

  Yet Myra was entranced. “Oh, my God. What or who is this?”

  “This is my Personal Partner who helps me out with information and more. The Society gave him to me for this assignment. I call him Partner.” I laughed at the expression on her face. “I know. I know. It’s hard to fathom at first. But you get used to him. Trust me, he’s no big deal.”

  “Hey! I resent that.” Cowboy dropped his lasso and tipped his hat up to glare at me.

  “Then it’s not a fancy cell phone?” Myra peered closer, reached out a finger, and touched Partner on his screen-crotch.

  “Hey, pretty woman. Don’t you think we need to know each other a bit more before you start playing with my family jewels? And I prefer to be thought of as a him and not an it.”

  Myra continued to admire Partner and his chest seemed to enlarge. Great. More ego for the electronic version of God’s gift to women. I let them take stock of each other until I couldn’t stand it any longer. “You said I had mail?”

  Partner broke the stare he and Myra shared to roll a text message along the bottom of the screen. I knew right away who had sent the message. The Society had an agent working as a policeman and he did a great job providing information and leads. As always, his message was cryptic. Call me. Urgent.