by Celia Kyle
“Assistant! I’m an assistant to the gatekeeper! I have the stamps to prove it, thank you very much.” The assistant ranted to the soul before her. “And you, sir of the puppy kicking, are going to Hell for a century, after which you can be revaluated.”
Whoa, hard core. Holly made a note not to piss her off. She had a goal and that looked like the woman to suck up to. Sighing, or at least a ghost’s closest approximation of a sigh, Holly floated to the end of the line which seemed like miles long.
Holly watched the door each soul passed through, noting the flashes of light coming from beneath the wood. White and red, and you couldn’t always tell by looking at a ghost exactly where it’d end up. Some looked creepy, as if they belonged in Hell, and yet the assistant sent them to Heaven. Curious. She wondered where exactly she’d be placed.
No! She didn’t want to go to Heaven. She wanted to get back to Damon to explore what could be. She didn’t love the man, but there was something there, something more than “like.” They hadn’t known one another long enough for much more. Love was not built in a day.
Time passed quickly, souls floating this way and that, and suddenly Holly found herself in front of the assistant.
The woman smiled at her. “Hello, I’m Mira, the gatekeeper’s assistant. I see here that you devote time to the homeless and needy children as well as volunteering at an elderly facility. I’d say you’re a shoe-in for Heaven, but do you have anything to add before I send you on to the gatekeeper?”
“I don’t want to go to Heaven.”
Mira frowned. “Everyone wants to go to Heaven. There’s all you can eat without gaining an ounce and all the Prada, Coach and Manolos you could ever dream of. Heaven is the place to be, darling. I promise you. If I could die, I’d so be there. The big guy is insisting I stick around here, though. Selfish.”
The woman raised the Heaven stamp, and Holly shoved her hand beneath it, keeping her from completing her judgment. “The thing about it is…”
“Oh, great, you’re one of those people.” Mira sighed. “Get it out then.”
“I was in Hell.”
“The Living don’t go to Hell.”
How many times had she been told that in the last twenty-four hours? “But I was in Hell and I met this demon, Damon, and—”
“Wait, which one?” Mira interrupted.
“Damas.”
“Of course you did. He’s a smooth talker, that one. He’s the Ambassador of Hell, it’s his job to be all dreamy and convincing.”
The woman raised the stamp again and Holly grabbed her arm. Could that be it? Had his words been him doing his job? No. No. She wouldn’t believe it. He’d been talking with another demon and Holly had already become a ghost. No way it’d all been a ploy. “Look. I hate to disagree with you, but I want my body back. Truly. He’s not just smooth-talking me… I think there’s something there, but—”
“Good Heaven, you’re in love.”
“No, no, no, it’s nothing like that. I’m in a lot of like with him, I admit. But there’s also a whole passel of demon babes counting on me to create the perfect holiday for them and I can’t do that from Heaven.” See, no one could disappoint babies. It was a cosmic law or something.
The woman’s mouth dropped open. “You’re creating Christmas for demons?”
“No, ’cause that would be wrong. In Hell? Are you joking? It’s just a highly popularized, card company driven holiday. Presents for the kids. No celebrating His son’s birthday.” Holly shook her head. “’Cause that would be wrong.” She’d had that drilled into her head enough.
“So, you want to go back to your body for a guy and some demon kids? I got that right?”
Holly nodded, biting her lip and hoping Mari would return her to Hell.
“Give me two seconds, gotta get the return stamp from the boss. One time I send a serial killer back and he puts the darned thing under lock and key.” Mira ducked behind the large wooden door and Holly couldn’t help but eavesdrop.
“No.” A deep voice, must be the boss.
“Yes.”
“No, Mira.”
“But I read her file and she’s really, really good this time.”
“You read the last guy’s file.”
“No, he just spoke Prada, and I fixed that one. Come on, please?”
Then the voices dropped low, seductive, sensual, and Holly could only imagine what she was promising. She didn’t want Mira to sell herself, not for her sake.
Mira appeared within moments, face flushed. “Okay then, got the stamp.”
“Mira, wait, I didn’t want you to … with your boss … and…”
“Oh, honey, he’s my mate as well as my boss.” Mira winked. “And sometimes I use that to my advantage. Now, you ready? The ride will be bumpy.”
Holly nodded. She was ready to return to Damon and reluctantly return to the babes who needed her. Just as long as what Damon said was true and she’d never have to have kids of her own. ’Cause, ow! “I’m ready.” She got a quick glance at her file, at the stamp Mira placed on the front, and grinned.
Return to Sender
In a rush, her soul was sucked through the floor, down and down and down through the building until she could feel the warmth spreading through her from head to toe. In awe, she watched as everything sped by as she was pulled faster and faster until…
Holly came back to life with a deep breath and a scream bursting from her lips. Pain warred with pain, wracking her body from head to toe in a burning, torching fire along her skin. Then, just as quick as the pain crested, it ebbed, becoming a soothing warmth.
Opening her eyes, she stared into the deep blackness of Damon’s gaze, concern marring his features. “Don’t you ever die on me again!” he yelled at her, the walls shaking.
“Don’t you ever yell at me again,” Holly returned, her voice hoarse.
And then his lips crashed into hers—a bruising passionate kiss. An exchanging of need and want and caring and possibly something more… But she wasn’t sure. His tongue stroked and dueled with hers, petting and stroking in a rhythm as old as time itself. His warmth filled her, caressed her in ways she’d dreamed and hoped from the time she was a little girl. She’d longed for this her entire life. A kiss that would curl her toes and make her want from just a touch of lips.
Damon moaned and pulled her close, angling his head this way and that, taking the kiss further and further until she felt the answering pull between her thighs. She needed and desired and had to have him more than any other. Now and then and forever more. His hands skimmed her skin, kissing her with his touch, lighting the fire hotter and brighter than before. His lips traveled to her neck, fire following in his wake.
“Damon.” She panted and then moaned. “Oh, Damon.”
“Damon, for the hate of Satan!” another male yelled, and it felt as if a bucket of iced water had been dumped on her.
Holly squeaked and pushed Damon away from her, embarrassed to be caught necking.
“You, brother hated, have horrible timing,” Damon ground out, and the other man, Damon’s brother, laughed.
“Can’t you leave her alone for a moment? She’s just come back from the dead for Satan’s sake.”
True, but she felt great. Better than great, truly. “Damon, I’m fine.”
Damon kissed her nose and shifted his head back and forth, rubbing their noses together. “No, Leonard’s right, I shouldn’t have jumped on you like that. You just…”
“Yeah.” She got that. Holly wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close, whispering in his ear. “I enjoyed it, though.”
He whispered back. “Me too.”
She released the breath she’d been holding. She wasn’t really all that good at the sex stuff. Too bad Mira wasn’t there. The woman oozed sensuality and confidence with her mate. Holly only hoped that she could learn that someday. Of course, without the dying part first.
* * * *
“You are.” Damon wouldn’t budge on this
.
“Am not!”
“Are!”
“Not.” She stuck her tongue out at him, and he was tempted to kiss her again.
He’d felt her passion, felt the heat between them, and it sure as Heaven wasn’t the fires of Hell burning her when they kissed. Okay, he could convince her of this. He was an ambassador for Hell’s sake. “Holly, I can’t protect you from the heat if we’re not together.”
“That doesn’t mean we have to be in the same bed.” She stomped toward the window, staring out into Hell’s barren landscape.
“Yes, it requires us to be touching when I sleep.” A lie, but hopefully she’d fall for it. He really wanted to have her in his arms all night. Even if all they did was sleep.
“You’re a liar,” she sing-songed at him.
Damn. “Maybe, but it doesn’t lessen my determination at all. Don’t you want to be in my arms?” He really wished he’d learned to pout properly when he and Leonard were children. Leonard always got what he wanted when a pout was involved.
“Nice try.” She narrowed her eyes. “But it’s not going to work.”
“What if I ask nicely?”
“I don’t think you know how.”
Oh, this he could do. He padded toward her and twined her fingers with his, the contrast between his blush and her peach skin arousing him, enticing him. “Holly, I would love for you to sleep next to me, in my arms, where I know you’ll be safe and cared for.”
She swallowed, throat working, and he nearly moaned, the line of her neck tempting him to kiss the silken skin. “Cared for?”
This time he gave in to temptation and brushed his lips just below her ear, nibbling her earlobe and whispering so softly, “Yes.”
“Yes.” And then she moaned his name. “Damon.”
“Come, lover. Come to bed.”
“We’re not having sex, Damon.”
Sure they weren’t. He hadn’t become the ambassador because he lost arguments.
Chapter Four
Holly lay on the right side of the bed. Damon came to bed after her and lay in the middle. Bastard.
Snuggled under the blankets, wearing an oversized T-shirt and boxers, she felt relatively safe. Except relative was all … relative. Her heart beat to the sound of a drum she’d never heard before, anticipation rising with each passing second. She played the “would he or wouldn’t he” game in her head, unsure of which outcome she was rooting for.
She rolled to her side, clutching the pillow beneath her head and willing her heart to slow down, her breathing to become normal. She wanted him, his sexy body, those sweet lips and that sharp tongue. But part of her was still … uneasy. He was a demon for Heaven’s sake. Wouldn’t that guarantee her a spot in Hell? Falling for a demon? A demon with bedroom eyes and hair that looked silky soft?
It didn’t matter because she wasn’t falling for him. Not one bit. Nu-uh. Not happening, Hot Stuff.
She nibbled her lower lip, straining to hear his breathing. Was he asleep? With her half-naked next to him? The nerve! He’d … and she’d … and now… Damn it! Being a woman in Hell was difficult.
“Quit thinking so hard, Holly.”
She squeaked and nearly rolled off the side of the bed. “Huh? I’m not doing anything.”
Damon’s arm snaked around her waist and he hauled her toward the middle of the bed, her back to his front. From shoulders to thigh, she was plastered to him, his hand splayed across her stomach. Damon pressed a light kiss to her cheek. “Quit thinking so hard. What happens, happens. Let Satan’s will be done.”
“You mean Go—”
Damon slapped his hand over her mouth, cutting off her words. “No, baby, what did Uncle Satan say about that down here?”
Holly sighed and rolled her eyes, tugging his hand away from her. “Yeah, yeah. Can I call him the big guy or something then? This no “word” rule is getting old.”
Damon slid his hand back into place and snuggled close. “Nope. Get over it and get some sleep.”
“That’s it? Get some sleep? No cajoling or weaseling or anything?”
He nuzzled her hair. “Let me catch a few winks and then I’ll take you up on the offer.”
The offer?
Holly punched her pillow and laid her head down to sleep. Offer? She snorted. As if. He was the last man in Heaven, or Hell, that she’d sleep with. No, wait. She was sleeping with him. He was the last person/demon/thing she’d have sex with. Yeah, that.
Damon’s warmth, his heat, seeped into her. Holly’s eyelids grew heavy, limbs sluggish and unresponsive. She wiggled closer to the source of the heat and sighed when it seemed to wrap around her like a blanket. “Mm…” She moaned and then sighed, drifting into a peaceful sleep, Damon at her side.
She awoke freezing. The deepest black surrounded her, making it difficult to see. It felt as if someone had placed a blindfold over her eyes. The blackness enveloped her, sending her into a panic. The ice cold, the bleak darkness… This was too much like a nightmare and not enough like real life. This was, quite literally, Hell.
“Da-Damon?” She hated the shakiness of her voice, the uncertainty. “Damon?” she called again, desperate to have him with her.
A light flickered and came to life near the window, illuminating the entire room. Damon stood next to the window, a ball of fire in his palm, rolling the flame back and forth between his hands. He was bare from the waist up, his blush skin glowing in the golden firelight, accentuating his chiseled torso.
The light showed off each ripple and flex of his muscles, the six-pack abs, and the sharp lines at his hips that disappeared beneath his pants. The pants clung to him, accentuating the muscles of his legs, but more importantly, the bulge at his groin. He was excited. By her? By another? She didn’t know. Couldn’t guess. But something had driven him from the bed and forced him to blacken and cool the room to an uncomfortable temperature.
“Damon, come back to bed,” she ordered, didn’t ask, and held out her hand for him. He shook his head. “It’s cold. I need you to warm me.”
He shook his head again and closed his eyes. Within moments, the temperature of the room rose to a comfortable level. “I can’t, Holly. I … I can’t.”
She untangled herself from the bedcovers and padded toward him, stopping when only a foot separated them. “Why?” She held out her hand. “Come with me. I want you to warm me.”
“The room is warm.” He stared into his ball of fire.
“Not enough. Not without you.”
“I’ll burn you, Holly. I’m fire. You’re light. It… I’m trying to be noble, damn it.” He growled, squashing the flames into his fist.
Threat of harm gone, Holly closed the distance between them and insinuated herself into his arms and stared at his profile. “Damon, even light needs a little fire. Come to bed.”
He stared down at her and she returned his scrutinizing gaze. “I won’t be… I’ll want you, no matter how wrong it is or the fact that it may never go beyond tonight. I want you.”
He pressed a tender kiss to her lips and she inhaled his sweet smoky scent. “It doesn’t matter. I want tonight.” She kissed him, rising onto her tiptoes, searching for more than she’d been given. “I want you.”
Damon moaned and returned her kiss, increasing it ten-fold, demanding more and giving everything and nothing and then some. She opened to him, letting him pillage and plunder her mouth with a fierce intensity that almost scared yet excited her. This is what she wanted, this unbridled passion and desire that she’d never experienced before. There’d been affection and small doses of arousal, but Damon left her wanting after a kiss, a connection of lips and nothing more.
He nudged her backward, and she handed her trust over to him, allowing him to be her eyes and legs, pushing her this way and that until the back of her legs hit the bed. He broke the kiss then, his eyes literally burning with fire, and she gloried in her ability to drive him that high, that hot.
Holly leaned back on her hands, waiting for his n
ext move, his next direction. His hands fought and fumbled with the tie of his pants until he growled in frustration.
“Here, let me…”
He burned them to ash. Okay then.
“Stay very, very still, Holly.”
“Wha—” The heat started as a tickle, a feather dancing along her skin but not enough to make her giggle. She kept her eyes trained on Damon, watching him concentrate on her, his eyes still burning.
“Stay…” The heat intensified, centering around her nipples and pussy, spreading and turning, torturing and demanding her arousal. Her breath came in harsh pants, and she ached to rock her hips, or rub her breasts to ease the ache.
“Still.” This time it burst through her like a flash, a quick flick of searing pain, and then it vanished, the warming around her nipples and pussy gone as quickly as it had come.
Damon leaned forward, hand trailing over her … bare skin? Holly looked at her body and gaped. She was nude, blackened ashes surrounding her on the bed, flitting and fluttering to the floor to join the ashes of Damon’s pants. “Damon!”
He rubbed his nose against hers. “You liked it. Don’t tell me you didn’t. I get you hot.”
She pressed her lips against his for a quick kiss. “You know you do. In more ways than one.” She giggled and he growled, dropping on top of her and then rolling them toward the center of the bed.
“I’m going to make love to you unless you say no, Holly.” He kissed her cheek, her nose, her chin and her forehead.
Holly spread her legs for him, allowing his hips, his cock, to connect with her pussy. The heat she felt wasn’t just her desire for him, but his physical heat as well. His erection tempted and teased her with its warmth, so much hotter than her own temperature.
He continued his trail of kisses, exploring her neck, her earlobe, her collarbone.
“I want you, Damon. Want you.” She could barely speak, his kisses, his lips alone, arousing her. The need, want, for him grew more and more with each passing second.
Damon sunk his teeth into the top of her breast, growling with the bite, and she arched into him, the pain mingling with her pleasure. “Yes.”
His travels didn’t stop at her breasts, he shifted and moved, mouth licking, teeth biting from breasts to pubis. Holly spread her legs wide, aching and wanting and praying … okay, not really praying because she wasn’t about to pray to Satan for an orgasm. She just couldn’t.