So I Married A Demon Slayer

by Love, Kathy; Fox, Angie; George, Lexi

  The mysterious Damien sat stone-faced on an oversized chair apart from the rest.

  Yow. He was even better looking in person.

  He was dressed down for the evening, in seductively snug blue jeans and a silk club shirt, yet he still looked like a million bucks. It was the way he held himself, she decided, like he belonged there.

  She sauntered toward him. Joe Cool, this one. She’d warm him up.

  He studied her, his sharp features betraying nothing.

  “I’m Shiloh. I hope you haven’t been waiting long.” She draped herself on his lap, running her fingers through the chocolate brown curls at the nape of his neck. “And if you have, I’m worth it.”

  He smelled divine, like fresh grass and sunshine.

  Then he did something strange. He looked her in the eyes. It surprised and delighted her. Most men were too busy looking at her other assets. But Damien simply watched her.

  She smiled, feeling quite beautiful as she drew her fingers over his strong jaw. Shiloh admired his lovely hazel eyes as she let her fingers snake past his collarbone, down his chest. “What do you want to do, Damien?”

  He caught her wrist. “Talk.”

  Her mouth curved. “I think I’m insulted.” She rubbed herself against him.

  His desire was evident. He didn’t need to hold back.

  She wanted this as much as he did. Probably more.

  Shiloh straddled his lap, trailing kisses along the salty skin of his neck. Her nipples tightened; the pleasure rose up from her very core as she rubbed herself against him.

  She felt herself grow wet, needy. Hades, she was desperate. She didn’t even know how desperate until—

  “Stop.” His absence struck her like a blow as he lifted her away by the shoulders.

  “What?” She blinked, pushing the hair out of her eyes.

  A muscle in his jaw twitched as he glanced behind her, at the couples scattered through the orgy room. “Let’s go somewhere private,” he said, almost to himself.

  “My pleasure,” she said automatically, relieved that it was merely a change of location. She wouldn’t—couldn’t—stop now.

  Her dress rubbed painfully over her swollen breasts as she slipped a hand into his. His grip was warm and firm as she led him to her favorite room in the back.

  The purple silk pillows and gold trim reminded her of the pleasure houses in the Far East. Sandalwood incense burned in the small gold tin at the door. Tiny white lights glittered over the ceiling like stars.

  “Lie with me,” she said, tumbling down onto the pillows with him.

  He reached inside his jeans. But instead of taking them off, he withdrew a small bottle of shimmering blue liquid. “Drink this,” he said, his voice husky.

  “What is it?” She asked, helping him along with the buttons of his Levi’s 501 jeans.

  He caught her wrist. “It’s my own private cocktail.”

  Fawzi hovered near her ear. She’d almost forgotten about him. “I don’t like it,” the ifrit growled.

  “Oh yeah?” Well, if she could get Damien to stop talking, she was all for it.

  Besides, it wasn’t like she couldn’t handle it. She could drink gasoline, for sin’s sake. It gave her quite a buzz, but then again, Amoco Unleaded tasted better than tequila.

  Cheaper too.

  No. The wisp of yellow smoke hovered between Shiloh and Damien. I do not like this.

  And I need to get laid.

  She caressed the tiny bottle.

  Damien reached for the buttons on his jeans, seeking to undo her work. “Is there a problem?”

  She covered his hand with hers. “None,” she said.

  I wish you to leave, Fawzi.

  The ifrit dissolved away.

  She’d pay for that later. But now? “I’ll drink.”

  The corner of his mouth tipped up in response.

  “Kiss me first,” she purred.

  He cupped a hand under her chin, effectively stopping her sultry advance. “Drink.”

  Shiloh smiled. She liked a man who knew what he wanted. “You win.” Her breasts tightened with anticipation as she made quick work of the buttons on his shirt.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, moving to stop her.

  She caught his wrist with her hand. “I’m drinking it my way.”

  He hesitated a moment, then relaxed. “Good.” She pushed the shirt the rest of the way off. His chest was smooth and firm.

  His eyes darkened as she tipped the bottle and made a pool of blue liquor right above his belly button. His breathing quickened as she drizzled it up over his chest and toward his heart. She stopped right above his left nipple.

  Shiloh felt her own pulse speed up. “Delicious.”

  She eased the top of his boxers lower on his hips and touched her tongue to the groove of skin at his hip bone. He groaned as she licked her way upward, teasing him until she found the cocktail she’d poured.

  Her tongue tingled. Mmm . . . it tasted like SweeTarts. She lapped up every drop. And then she went back for more.

  He watched her as she took his nipple between her teeth and bit down. He gasped.

  She smiled. It was like he’d never been touched before.

  “How do you feel?” he croaked, breathing like a man half-possessed.

  “I could ask you the same question.”

  He met her halfway for a searing kiss. He wrapped his arms around her and hauled her against his chest. Heat poured through her as her thirsty body responded. She moaned, eager for more.

  She pushed. He pulled. They shared a brief, hot moment of passion before he shoved her away again.

  Hells bells.

  He wore a steely expression, as if he were fighting it.

  Why? He’d come to her for pleasure.

  She raised herself up on her knees and slipped the gold straps from her shoulders, baring herself from the waist up.

  His eyes blazed.

  She could feel his desire like a physical presence. His lust rose up, feeding her own.

  Yes.

  He surged for her, wrapping his arms around her once again. His warmth felt glorious against her bare skin as she sat in his lap and kissed him over and over again. Her core pressed against the hard length of him, grinding, pushing until they were both shuddering with need.

  Oh yes. She needed lust.

  He tore his mouth away. “Hold it,” he said, breathing hard. He blocked her with his hand as if she was about to strike him instead of kiss him again. “Now it’s time for you to tell me about your boss.”

  What on earth gave him that idea? “No.”

  “Listen.” He unwound himself and stood facing her, his jeans open, his boxers low on his hips.

  “Ah, but see . . .” She slipped off her panties and stood naked in front of him. “I am not a very good listener.”

  Damien clearly couldn’t take his eyes off her. So why was he backed against the wall?

  She grasped his pants and his boxers and dropped to her knees. Before he could make any more silly requests, she had the full length of him in her mouth.

  He tasted delicious, like nothing she’d ever had before. The lust flowed through her, feeding her. She felt glorious, alive.

  He gasped as she worked him.

  His lust soared and so did hers. She fed off his desire and her own. She craved him. Needed him. Wanted to please him like no other.

  Her power surged and slapped against his.

  His?

  He had power.

  Amazing. Oh what a bonus. He wasn’t human. He was different. The same, yet gifted. Special.

  Delicious.

  She slid her tongue down the full length of him.

  “Shiloh,” he groaned.

  What was he? She had to have another taste. And another. And—

  He seemed almost desperate now as he bucked against her. He was saying something else. She didn’t listen. She didn’t care. The only thing she needed was to taste him.

  He drove his hands thro
ugh her hair. “You don’t understand.” Each word came out as a short, desperate attempt at speech. “I can’t.”

  They rolled down onto the pillow-strewn floor. Had he seen his erection? “Oh, I think you can.”

  He cupped her breasts, running his thumbs over her nipples. An amazed expression crossed his face as she practically purred. “I don’t—” he began.

  They lay side-by-side, cocooned in silk. “Then why did you come here?”

  They were both slick and hard, out of breath.

  He shook his head slightly, as if he couldn’t quite understand how he’d gotten there. “It’s impossible for me to—”

  “What?” she asked, cocking a leg over his hip and slipping him inside of her.

  His expression—pure ecstasy mixed with shock—might have made her smile. If she hadn’t been so turned on. Because at that moment, he flipped her over, grabbed her hips and drove into her.

  His power rose up again, slapping against hers as he took her hard.

  Yes. She shoved back against him, giving as fiercely as she got, reveling in the pleasure as he gave her the strength and the energy and the surge of pure heat she’d craved for as long as she could remember.

  Instinct ruled as they exploded into a frenzy of caresses, licks, kisses and pounding need. There was no drawing back this time. No control. She basked in the wild passion, the utter possession.

  Opening her senses, she drank in every bit of him, naked and sweaty under the twinkling white lights. She gloried in his moans, his wild abandon. Her body arched under his as they both shuddered and reached the final climax.

  Chapter Two

  Sunlight stung her eyeballs even though she hadn’t opened them. Shiloh covered her eyes with her arm and groaned. She felt dizzy, weak. Her head throbbed with the worst hangover since that three-day wine binge through Sodom, Gomorrah and Zebiom.

  And she hadn’t even had any alcohol last night.

  She stretched, sore from last night’s activities with Damien. At least one thing had gone right. Damien had been exactly what she needed.

  In fact, he was amazing.

  So why’d she feel like hell?

  She blinked against the bright morning, wishing she could lie in bed for the rest of eternity. Maybe she’d just close her light-blocking shades and go back to bed.

  She didn’t even remember making it home last night.

  In fact, she didn’t remember anything after that blinding orgasm. Strange. That had never happened to her before.

  A flutter of a grin crossed her lips. If she was going to remember one thing, let it be her night in the Lust room.

  She groaned into a sitting position and threw one leg onto the floor, stopping short when her toes came in contact with carpet. Her bedroom had hardwood floors. Shiloh’s eyes flew open and she gasped as she saw a nicked wooden end table. A white ceramic lamp. Beige curtains. She was in a hotel room.

  Out the window, she could see the roller coaster at the New York-New York hotel. Oh thank Hades. She flopped back against the pillow. She was in Vegas. Okay. She placed a hand on her chest. She was a few blocks from home. No need to panic.

  Breathe.

  Although something on her left hand didn’t feel right. It was like a heavy weight on her finger. She glanced down to the hand on her chest and shrieked. There, on her left ring finger, was a gold band with a diamond on it the size of Switzerland.

  She stared at it like she’d never seen one before. In all fairness, she hadn’t. At least not on her hand.

  From her right came a bellowing snore. She scrambled off the bed and stood staring down at Damien, tousled and wickedly naked.

  What the hell happened last night?

  She didn’t remember a thing.

  She rubbed her temples. Think, think, think.

  Okay. She went to work, bribed the fairy, practically mauled Damien. That part had been a lot of fun. She’d felt her power flow out of her in an amazing orgasm and then . . . nothing.

  Just a cheap hotel room, a hot man and a diamond ring.

  She yanked at the gold band. It was big enough to slip off easily, but it refused to budge. The obnoxious diamond clung as if it were welded onto her.

  It glinted in the morning sun, mocking her.

  She couldn’t be married. Succubi didn’t get married. Ever.

  Her eyes stung and she rubbed at them. Even if she wanted to get married, she couldn’t marry a client from the Lust floor. It didn’t matter that he was the best sex she’d had in a thousand years.

  And how dare Damien sleep at a time like this?

  “Get up!” She crawled across the bed and yanked him onto his back. Her heart stuttered when she saw that he wore a gold band on his left finger too. Oh Hades. She’d been afraid of that. “Wake up. This is an emergency!”

  He threw his arms up over his eyes. “What’s the . . . ?” “Damien”—she yanked his arms down—“what did you do to me?”

  He gazed at her with bleary eyes, confusion tumbling across his features. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice gravelly and a bit too indignant for her taste.

  She smacked him with her pillow. “That’s what I want to know.”

  He sat up faster than she expected. She could see he was still woozy. “Don’t touch me,” he warned.

  “You sure didn’t mind it last night,” she shot back, pleased when a flush crept up his neck. Bull’s eye. “Now fess up. What did you do to me?”

  With the grace of a cat, he was out of bed. He strode toward a shiny silver suitcase on a luggage stand, displaying his frustratingly perfect butt.

  He yanked the case open, his eyes on her the whole time. “I didn’t do anything to you.” He reached inside with one hand and grabbed hold of something she couldn’t see.

  Frankly, she didn’t care. “You made me pass out. Want me to show you what happened next?” Maybe he had some memory of it. She shoved her obnoxiously ringed hand at him. “You married me.”

  He blinked twice and slowly removed his hand from whatever was in the case. “I couldn’t.”

  She planted a hand on her hip. “Check your hand, sweetie.”

  He lifted it out of the case and went white as he stared at the gold ring on his finger. “I can’t be married,” he said to his hand.

  She had to smile. Briefly.

  Oh, who was she kidding? This was a mess.

  Shiloh swept toward the window, wanting to get as far away from him as she could. This was too much. It had to be a mistake. Getting married meant giving her power away. Seducing only one man for the rest of her life. She couldn’t do that. She had a job. A career. Her boss was going to kill her.

  She stumbled over an empty champagne bottle as she scanned the room, trying to make sense of what had happened the night before. A gigantic pink teddy bear with an “I Vegas” button sat next to a half-empty room service tray and what appeared to be her wadded up dress.

  He slammed his suitcase closed. “What did you do to me last night?”

  She turned to find him glaring at her, menace in his eyes. “You were the one with the fancy shot, you jerk. You drugged me.” Which proved he was a fool because drugs didn’t work on her.

  “You were the one who drank it,” he said, yanking a pair of jeans from the closet.

  Did she ever. She watched him pull on a pair of worn Levi’s and remembered just how she’d drunk the cocktail off of him. She felt a delicious tightening between her legs. “Fess up. What was in it?”

  He sighed and drew a hand through his hair. “I suppose it doesn’t hurt to tell you now.” He placed his hands on his hips, which only made his abs look better, damn him. “I gave you truth serum. It was supposed to make you cooperate.” His jaw flexed. “Instead, you seduced me.”

  “That’s my job!”

  “You made me pass out,” he accused.

  “Me too. I don’t remember anything after our screaming orgasm.”

  He looked like he could grind marbles with his teeth. “Don’t s
ay that word.”

  “Orgasm?” she asked, watching him flinch. “What are you? A prude?” She felt something slippery below her foot. “Oh,” she gasped as she realized she was stepping on a photograph of her and Damien posing with a minister.

  She snatched it off the floor.

  There she was, radiant in her gold dress, smiling like it was her wedding day. She had both arms wrapped around Damien, who had a hand on her hip and a rose in his teeth. They stood under a trellis with a red and gold sign that read The Hitching Post Wedding Chapel.

  “Yeek.” She tossed it back on the floor.

  He’d found photos too. Stomach tumbling, she hurried over to where he was sitting on the edge of the bed, flipping through a stack of pictures. She gasped at the proof of their post-wedding limo ride. Shiloh and Damien kissing underneath the Las Vegas sign. Shiloh and Damien pretending to be tigers outside the MGM Grand. Shiloh and Damien inside the limo, kissing like the ship was about to go down, while long-haired, painfully skinny members of a rock band cheered and toasted them with bottles of Captain Morgan. He squinted and studied the last picture closer. “Who are these people?”

  “How should I know?” They were all mortals. She could count the mortals she knew on one hand.

  He turned to the next photo of them making a toast while standing fully clothed in the pool at Caesars Palace. Unbelievable.

  She shook her head. “You’re sure guzzling that champagne.”

  He turned to her, frustration written across his face. “I don’t like champagne.”

  Sweet Hades. Shiloh stalked toward the window. “We have to fix this.”

  She felt like a caged tiger. She couldn’t get married. She needed to crave all men. If she had truly given herself to this Damien, then she’d only crave him. Her magic would be gone.

  It was too awful to contemplate.

  She had to test it.

  “Shiloh,” he began.

  “Hold up.” She craned her neck, hands on the window in search of a man, any man close enough for her to test her powers. Maybe the marriage didn’t take. She was obviously out of her mind when it happened. She might still have her powers.