White Hot Kiss

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  “What happened?” he asked, dropping his hand.

  “I think I was ten or something, and I was with one of the Wardens,” I said. “We were getting something to eat. I saw a person who didn’t have an aura and I brushed against her in line. It was like flipping a switch. No one else seemed to notice but the Warden.”

  “And the rest is history?” Roth sounded smug. “The Wardens find a half demon who can see souls and tag demons. Sounds kind of convenient to me.”

  “I don’t know what you mean by it being convenient. I am a Warden, too, you know.”

  He looked at me. “You can’t tell me you never seriously considered that the reason they keep you around is because of what you can do.”

  “And the reason you’re interested in me has nothing to do with what I can do?” I quipped, feeling rather bold and proud.

  “Of course I’m interested in you because of what you do,” he replied casually. “I’ve never pretended otherwise.”

  I sidestepped a group of kids my age. The girls dressed in short skirts and lacy kneesocks rubbernecked Roth. “They didn’t know what I could do when they found me, Roth. So stop trying to make them sound like they’re the bad guys.”

  “I like when people try to classify things into good and bad, as if everything is that clear-cut.”

  “It is that clear-cut. Your kind is bad. The Wardens are good.” My response sounded flat. “They are good.”

  He ran a hand through his hair, causing it to fall haphazardly across his forehead. “And why do you think the Wardens are so good?”

  “Their souls are pure, Roth. And they protect people from things like you.”

  “People with the purest souls are capable of the greatest evils. No one is perfect, no matter what they are or what side they fight for.” Roth caught my hand, pulling me around a cluster of tourists with fanny packs. “One of these days I’m going to buy me one of those.”

  The laugh came out before I could squelch it. “You’d look real sexy in a fanny pack.”

  His smile warmed his face—warmed me. “I’d look sexy in just about anything.”

  I laughed again, shaking my head. “You’re so modest.”

  Roth winked. “Modesty belongs to losers. Something I am not.”

  I shook my head, grinning. “I’d tell you that probably earned you a ticket to Hell, but you know...”

  Roth tipped his head to the side, chuckling. “Yeah. Yeah. Do you know how many times people have told me to go to Hell?”

  “I can only imagine.” I caught sight of the top of the Verizon Center.

  “It never gets old,” Roth mused, smiling softly.

  CHAPTER NINE

  We turned onto F Street and I stepped closer to him, pointing across the road. “When I was little, I used to sit across from the performing-arts center and watch them through the windows. I wish I had a smidgen of their grace and talent. You should see me dance.”

  “Hmm,” Roth murmured, golden eyes twinkling. “I would like to see you dance.”

  Was it commonplace for a demon to twist every comment into something laced with sexual innuendo? The crowd grew thicker near the arts center, a sure sign there was a concert later. My gaze landed on a couple leaning against the corner of the building. They were locked together, oblivious to the world around them. I could barely tell where one ended and the other began. Envy reared its head, forcing me to look away.

  Roth was watching me observe the boy and girl. He smiled wolfishly. “So what does a tag look like?”

  “You can’t see it?” I smiled. “Well, I’m not telling you.”

  Roth laughed. “Fair. Can I ask you something else?”

  I peeked at him. He was staring straight ahead now, lips pursed. “Sure.”

  “Do you like doing this? Tagging demons?”

  “Yes. I’m doing something good. How many people can say that?” I quickly added, “I like it.”

  “Doesn’t it bother you that your family willingly puts you in danger to serve their own purpose?”

  Irritation flashed like a glare from the winter sun. “They don’t really want me tagging anymore, so they don’t willingly put me in danger. I’m glad I can help. Can you say the same about whatever you do? You’re evil. You ruin people’s lives.”

  “We aren’t talking about me,” he countered smoothly. “And what do you mean they don’t want you tagging anymore? I think these Wardens and I have something in common.”

  I clutched the strap around my shoulder, mentally spin-kicking myself in the face. “It’s nothing. I’m tired of talking about me.”

  We stopped in front of the café Roth had spoken of earlier. The fresh cookies and muffins in the window sang to me.

  “Hungry?” Roth whispered in my ear.

  His closeness was making it difficult to breathe. I could see the edge of the snake’s tail poking out of his collar. I lifted my head, swallowing. “Your tattoo moves.”

  “Bambi gets bored.” His breath stirred the hair around my ear.

  “Oh,” I whispered. “So...does she live on you or something?”

  “Or something. Hungry or not?”

  That was when I noticed the We Don’t Serve Wardens Here sign. Disgust filled me. “I guess I know why you like this place.”

  His laugh confirmed my suspicions.

  “This is just rich.” I faced him. “They won’t serve Wardens, but they’ll serve your kind.”

  “I know. It’s called irony. I love it.”

  Shaking my head, I headed into the café. Those cookies looked too good to pass up. It was slightly warmer inside the busy eatery. The smell of freshly baked bread filled the air as did the soft chatter of people sitting at bistro-style tables. I ordered a cold-cut sub and two sugar cookies. Roth got a coffee and a blueberry muffin—the muffin still surprised me. We found a table near the back, and I tried not to be weirded out by the fact that I was eating dinner with a demon.

  I searched for a normal question to ask as I munched on my sandwich. “How old are you?”

  Roth’s gaze flicked up from where he was strategically breaking his muffin into several bite-sized pieces. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  “Probably not.” I grinned. “But try me.”

  He popped a chunk of muffin in his mouth, chewing slowly. “Eighteen.”

  “Eighteen...what?” I finished off my sandwich while he stared back, brows raised. “Wait. Are you trying to tell me you’re only eighteen years old?”

  “Yes.”

  My mouth gaped. “You mean eighteen in dog years, right?”

  Roth laughed. “No. I mean eighteen as in I was born eighteen years ago. I’m a baby demon, basically.”

  “A baby demon,” I repeated slowly. When I thought about babies, the image of something soft and cuddly came to mind. Nothing about Roth was babyish. “You’re being serious.”

  He nodded, brushing the crumbs off his hands. “You look so shocked.”

  “I don’t understand.” I picked up one of the cookies.

  “Well, technically, we’re not really alive. I don’t have a soul.”

  I frowned. “Were you hatched from brimstone or something?”

  Roth threw his head back, laughing. “No. I was conceived just like you, but our growth is vastly different.”

  I shouldn’t be curious, but I couldn’t help it. “How is it different?”

  He leaned forward, grinning as his eyes glimmered. “Well, we are born as babies but within a couple of hours we mature. This—” he gestured at himself “—is just a human form I chose to wear. We all pretty much look alike, to be honest.”

  “Just like the Wardens, then. You’re wearing a human skin. So what do you really look like?”

  “As gorgeous as I do now, but a very different shade of skin.”

  I sighed. “What color?”

  Roth picked up his cup as he dipped his chin. He stared at me through thick lashes. “A boy must have some secrets. It keeps the mystery alive.”
>
  I rolled my eyes. “Whatever.”

  “Maybe one day I’ll show you.”

  “I won’t be interested then. Sorry.” I moved on to my second cookie. “So back to the eighteen thing again. You seem a lot more mature than normal guys. Is that a demon thing?”

  “We’re omniscient.”

  I laughed. “Such crap. You’re saying you’re born all-knowing?”

  Roth grinned impishly. “Pretty much. I went from this big—” he held his hands about three feet apart “—to what I am now in about twenty-four hours. Brain grew right along with it.”

  “That’s just weird.”

  He picked up his coffee, taking a sip. “So what do you know about your other half?”

  And he was back to me again. I sighed. “Not that much. They told me my mom was a demon, and that’s pretty much it.”

  “What?” Roth sat back. “You really are that innocent of your heritage. It’s cute, but oddly infuriating.”

  I nibbled on my cookie. “They think it’s better that way.”

  “And you think it’s okay for them to keep you completely in the dark when it comes to the other part of you?”

  I took another bite, shrugging. “It’s not like I claim the other half.”

  He rolled his eyes. “You know, it kind of reminds me of a dictatorship. The way the Wardens treat you, that is.”

  “How so?”

  “Keep the people in the darkness, away from the truth. Makes them easier to control.” He sipped his coffee, watching me over the lid. “It’s the same with you.” He shrugged. “Not that you seem to care.”

  “They don’t control me.” I broke off the cookie roughly, briefly considered throwing it in his face. But that would be a waste of a perfectly good cookie. “And I guess you’re on speaking terms with some of the world’s most infamous dictators.”

  “I wouldn’t say I talk to them.” His lips pursed thoughtfully. “More like shove hot pokers through them when I get bored.”

  I cringed. “For real?”

  “Hell ain’t pretty for those who’ve earned their way.”

  I thought about that for a moment. “Well, they kind of deserve an eternity of torture.” I glanced around the café, over the shimmering souls and framed portraits on the walls. They were pictures of former owners, each old and silver-haired. And then I saw her.

  Or I saw her soul first.

  Sinner alert. The essence around her was tainted, a kaleidoscope of dark shades. I wondered what she had done. Once her soul faded, I saw that she looked like a normal thirtysomething woman. She was dressed nicely, wore really cute heels and carried a to-die-for purse. Her blond hair was a bit brassy, but cut in a trendy bob. She looked normal. Nothing to be afraid of or to run from, but I knew differently. Evil simmered under the normal facade.

  “What is it?” Roth sounded far away.

  I swallowed. “Her soul—it’s bad.”

  He seemed to understand. I wondered what he saw: a woman in nice clothes, or the woman that had sinned so badly her soul was now tainted?

  “What do you see?” he asked, as if he was sharing the same thought.

  “It’s dark. Brown. Like someone took a brush, dipped it in red paint and flicked it around her.” I leaned forward, breathless with want. “It’s beautiful. Wrong, but beautiful.”

  “Layla?”

  My nails dug into the tabletop. “Yeah?”

  “Why don’t you tell me about the necklace?”

  Roth’s voice tugged me back to reality. Tearing my gaze away from the woman, I sucked in a deep breath. I looked down at my cookie, my stomach filling with lava. “What...what do you want to know?”

  He smiled. “You wear it all the time, don’t you?”

  I felt around until my fingers touched the smooth metal of the band. “Yeah, I’m not big on jewelry.” As if compelled, I turned back to the woman. She was at the counter, ordering food. “But I wear this all the time.”

  “Layla, look at me. You don’t want to go down that road.”

  With effort, I focused on him. “I’m sorry. It’s just so hard.”

  His brows furrowed. “You don’t need to apologize for something that is natural to you, but taking a human’s soul... You can’t go back from that.”

  So many emotions shot through me. First was surprise. Why wouldn’t Roth, being what he was, want me to jump out of this chair and suck some soul? But then the bitter lash of sadness followed. “Why do you care?”

  Roth said nothing.

  I sighed. “It’s not natural—what I want from her, or from anybody, for that matter. I can’t even get close to a boy, Roth. This is my life.” I picked up a cookie, waving it in front of my face. “This is all I have. Sugar. I’m a walking ad for diabetes in the making.”

  A deep frown pierced his striking face. “Your life is so much more than what you can’t do. What about all that you can do?”

  I laughed, shaking my head. “You don’t even know me.”

  “I know more than you realize.”

  “Well, that’s creepy and you’re a demon preaching to me about life. There is something inherently wrong with that.”

  “I wasn’t preaching.”

  I glanced at the counter. She was gone. I sank down in my chair, the relief as sweet as the cookies. “Anyway, the necklace belonged to my mother. I’ve always had it. I don’t even know why. I mean, it’s stupid since she was a demon and didn’t even want me. And here I am, running around wearing her ring. Pathetic.”

  “You’re not pathetic.”

  I cracked a smile, not sure why I’d admitted that. It wasn’t even something I’d ever said to Zayne. I took another bite of the cookie and dropped it on the napkin.

  Moving as fast as Bambi, Roth reached over the bistro table, caught my hand and brought my fingers to his mouth. Before I could even react, he licked off the tiny specks of sugar the cookie had left behind.

  I gasped, but the air got stuck in my throat. Sharp tingles spread down my arm and across my chest, then lower, much lower. A heaviness settled just below my breasts, different and intense, but not unpleasant. “That...that makes me uncomfortable.”

  Roth peered up at me through thick lashes. “That’s because you like it.”

  A huge part of me did, but I slipped my hand free, glancing around the small bakery. I felt unnaturally hot. “Don’t do that again.”

  He grinned. “But you’re so tasty.”

  I wiped my fingers clean on the napkin. “I think we’re done.”

  He caught my hand again. “No. Don’t run off yet. We were just getting started.”

  My eyes locked with his and I felt...I felt like I was falling. “Getting started with what?”

  His fingers slid between mine. “Becoming friends.”

  I blinked tightly. “We can’t be friends.”

  “Why not?” Roth threaded his fingers through mine. “Is there a rule I’m unaware of?”

  Suddenly, I wasn’t really sure anymore. He got up to take care of our tab while I tried to figure out what was going on between us. Could I be his friend? Did I even want to try? I probably should’ve made a run for it while he waited in line, but I didn’t.

  A middle-aged waitress approached our table. Her soul was a faint pink—a complete contrast to the haggard look on her face and world-weary gleam in her eyes.