by Debra Dunbar
“What kind of presence do you have in Europe?” Dar asked, standing and walking casually to the window, as if he wanted to admire the view. “My client is a bit suspicious of U.S. companies, and having references from an EU country would help to close the deal.”
He had no idea what the fuck he was talking about, but he’d heard enough boring elven crap over the last thousand years to fake it.
Phelps rambled off some names while Dar thought through likely scenarios. Wherever the demon was, it wasn’t here. The energy just wasn’t strong enough for him to be hiding under the sofa or in the bedroom. That left either an imprinted item, or this pesky human as a sorcerer. There wasn’t a summoning circle, but he’d hardly expected one burned into the carpet. If Dar were to do something dangerous and rather unlawful, he’d hardly do it in his hotel living room.
“Damn! Sorry, the glass slipped.” Dar held his hands to the side, dripping whisky on the carpet as he looked mournfully down at his stained, white shirt. “Can you grab those testimonials for me while I try and salvage this shirt?”
“Of course.”
Dar blotted at the shirt a few times with a napkin, waiting for Phelps to start going through the stack of brochures before heading down the hallway. Bathroom first door on the left, so the bedroom would be the second door. If the guy was a sorcerer, this was probably where he’d be doing his summoning.
The room was luxurious. A California King bed with a padded headboard was flanked with ebony bedside tables. A few items of clothing were folded neatly on the mussed bed, and an open suitcase sat on the wing-backed chair. Looked like Carter Phelps was refusing room service. Other than general disarray, nothing screamed demon. Nothing seemed particularly out of place in a hotel bedroom except for the items displayed on top of the dresser in a careful manner. It was almost as though the man had set up a sort of shrine, although why an old pack of playing cards and a chipped mason jar belonged in a shrine was beyond Dar’s comprehension. The picture he could understand; humans had great reverence for visual reminders of those they loved, but the other objects were just bizarre.
Still, the demon energy was strongest in this room, so Dar made his way to the display and carefully looked through the mismatched array of items. Behind the brass-framed picture was something that took the demon’s breath away—an antique stoppered bottle.
Dar didn’t dare touch it. Purple and shades of smoky gray swirled in a fussy pattern around the base. Gilded handles curved from either side. It was old, and he would have recognized its purpose even if he hadn’t felt the stamp of demon energy on the bottle.
Oh shit. Spinning on his heel, he exited, slipping into the bathroom to hurriedly sponge the spilled whisky from his shirt. By the time he returned, Phelps had put together a neat packet of information, his card paper-clipped to the top.
“I wrote my cell phone number down.” He pointed to the card, his tone frosty. “I’m happy to fly over to Germany if they’d like to meet me or have me demonstrate the product. Otherwise, I think our references will speak for themselves.”
“Thank you.” Dar glanced at the top sheet and tucked the packet under his arm. “I hate to run like this, but it’s never wise to leave a lady waiting.”
“Of course.” Phelps sneered. “You might want your clients to install that copy of Ourobouros by the end of the day even if they’re still undecided on your proposal. I’ve heard rumblings that there’s something big coming out of Southeast Asia.”
“I’m not surprised.” There was a poignant moment of tension between the two as Dar headed toward the door. Cameras, sensors—the room was loaded with security devices. He’d expected no less. “I’m grateful for your assistance. I’ll be in touch on behalf of my client.”
“Right.” Phelps’s voice radiated disdain. “Have your client load the software—or not. It’s your choice. And it’s your cross to bear if they fall to a cyber attack next week.”
The warning was clear, but Dar didn’t give a shit. He nodded deferentially and strode out of the penthouse suite, taking the elevator to the lobby.
Pocketing the business card, Dar tossed the rest of the paperwork in the trash bin. Interesting. Asta would be very pleased at what he’d found out, although he had no plans to tell her until after their date night. Angels were workaholics, and there’s no way he was going to let some other demon interfere with what he was hoping would be the first of many entertaining evenings with her.
Chapter 8
Asta smoothed her hair, checking that all the wild curls were neatly tucked into the barrette at the nape of her neck. Walking in these pointy-heeled shoes had taken months of practice. Running, jumping, and climbing in them was even trickier. But they were so beautiful with their shiny cream tops and red soles—worth every agonizing effort. And they made her legs look insanely long.
So did the dress. Soft chiffon folds came to mid-thigh, while the snug white underskirt barely covered her rear. The whole outfit narrowed, hugging from her hips and waist on up. Strapless, the top portion had a vee neck that revealed a significant amount of cleavage. Asta had spent several minutes trying to yank the top up only to realize that covering her chest meant her rump would be exposed.
Human women showed a lot of leg and breast tissue, so the dress was hardly indecent by their standards. It’s not that she had any issues about nudity—or near nudity—it just seemed wrong that her appearance was causing such havoc with the human males. The angel bit back a smile. It definitely was wrong that she was enjoying their attention, and probably just as wrong that she’d been wondering all evening what Dar would say when he saw her.
Lolita’s was lit up with yellow neon, humans lingering outside with black plastic boxes in hand. Of course there would be a wait. This was the new hot spot downtown. Asta wondered if Dar had thought to make reservations. Demons probably didn’t think about such things—not that angels did either. Wondering at their odds of getting a table without her having to work her angel-mojo, Asta halted. An available table was the least of her worries. She couldn’t even get inside.
Stupid revolving doors. What idiot thought these things were a good method of entering a building? She stood watching as the door made its circuitous route. Could she time it so she actually managed to get in between the sections? The last time, she’d been knocked backwards onto the pavement. That wouldn’t be a graceful entrance given her current dress and sky-high stilettos.
“Need help?”
She recognized his voice even before the faint energy trickled across her skin with its siren song. How did he do that? Thank Aaru all demons weren’t as stealthy as Dar, or her job would be nearly impossible. As she turned, she realized that with her heels, she towered over him. In flats, she was the same height as the demon, but the shoes she loved so much put Dar’s chin right at her bosom—a fact he’d quickly realized and had taken advantage of.
“Want me to get the door for you?” he asked her breasts.
“Did you make reservations? Otherwise we can skip the revolving door and just head over to Taco Bell.”
The demon chuckled and brushed a curl from her bare shoulder, his fingers lingering against her neck while his eyes explored the skin north of her cleavage. “Of course I made reservations. I didn’t want you to give me any excuse to not eat tonight.”
“I swore I’d play your game tonight as long as you help me catch the other demon. I’ll eat anything you put in front of me.”
Why did that cause the demon to nearly fall over laughing? Did he have something in particular he wanted her to eat, the thought of which was giving him such amusement?
Oh. Yeah, that probably wasn’t the best thing for her to say given his proclivity toward the sin of lust.
Wiping his eyes, still chuckling, Dar strode forward, stopping the revolving door to the angry protests of those trapped inside. “Then let us dine, my angel.”
Asta took a deep breath and walked past him, putting her palms on the front of the glass as she’d seen the hu
mans do. Hopefully he wouldn’t bump her out as he had the other evening. With these shoes on, she’d probably land face-first on the plush carpet.
“Ready?”
She should have known he’d squeeze into the tiny space behind her, pressing the full length of his form against her back and rear. Asta tried to scoot forward, only to find herself sandwiched between the demon and the glass. The humans yelled at them to move, but Dar held still, his body warm and powerful.
“Maybe we should just stay here a while.” His hips shifted and Asta felt something stir to life, hard and firm against her buttocks.
She’d told him no sex, but rubbing against her in the doorway wasn’t off limits. And it was most definitely brought with it welcome sensations. “We need to move,” Asta said with regret. She tried to push the door forward, but Dar had it wedged in place. The trapped humans began to pound on the glass.
“I love pissing them off,” he whispered against her hair. “So much anger over such a minor inconvenience. The gifts of Aaru seem to have turned them into a bunch of minor demons, don’t you agree?”
It did seem a fair comparison at the moment, but Asta hadn’t squandered her century here. She’d seen sparks of divinity in the human race, and no demon was going to convince her otherwise.
She shifted to look at him over her shoulder, rubbing herself along his body in the process. Oh stars, this felt good. If only those darned humans weren’t causing such a racket. “You’re being inconsiderate.” Her voice was breathless. “They have a right to be angry. And they’re still very early in their evolution. Give them another ten-thousand years or so, and I think you’ll find they’re more angelic.”
“Fuck, I hope not.” He pressed her harder against the glass, moving the door forward a few inches. “Besides, I won’t be around for ten-thousand years. Demons don’t usually live that long. Lives as exciting as ours tend to terminate fairly early.”
On that depressing thought, the demon moved the door forward, holding her waist to steady her upon exit. There was no reason demons shouldn’t live for billions of years as their angel counterparts did. Live fast and die young seemed a poor bargain, but Dar didn’t appear to be bothered that his lifestyle resulted in a significant reduction in life expectancy.
Dar confirmed his reservation with the hostess, taking the black box she handed to him. “Shall we sit at the bar and have a drink before dinner?”
She shrugged. “It’s your night.”
Why was she being so rude? She’d made this bargain; there was no reason for her to lose her manners over it. And so far the evening had been very stimulating—especially their moment in the doorway. “Yes, I’d love a drink before dinner,” she amended with a smile. The evening would be far more pleasant if she put two-million years of dislike and distrust aside and just went with it. Besides, she actually liked this demon. He was clever and funny, and his pursuit of her was very flattering. Screw all she’d been taught in Aaru. Screw a hundred years of dedicated service and proper vibration levels. This was her last week, and this was a date with a demon. She was going to throw caution to the winds and enjoy every moment of it.
One glare from Dar and a couple of businessmen grabbed their drinks and vacated two adjacent seats at the bar. The demon waited until she’d sat then leaned over the edge to flag down the bartender.
“I’ll have a coffee,” Asta told the smiling blond woman.
“Oh, no she won’t.” Dar raised an eyebrow, his gaze traveling down the angel’s body. “The lady will have a Moscow Mule, and I’d like a gin and tonic with a twist.”
“What’s a Moscow Mule?” Asta had a sneaking suspicion the bartender wouldn’t be bringing her an equine imported from Russia.
“You’ll see.”
The mule didn’t come with four legs and long ears; it came in an icy-cold copper mug. Asta sniffed it suspiciously then took a tentative sip.
“Ooh! Ginger, lime, and some kind of fermented grain. Very refreshing.”
Dar’s expression was smug. “See? You should trust me. Only the best for my angel.”
Trust him? The odd thing was, she did. In spite of all the warning bells that had been going off in her head since the day she’d met him, she did trust him. Especially when it came to food and drink. She took another sip.
The mule was amazing. Asta had begun experimenting with a handful of beverages once she’d found out how addicting espresso could be. It would take her years in Aaru to break herself of a newfound soda craving, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to get over her love of coffee. This mule drink could prove to be a new vice, although it would be a short-lived one. One week. Less than one more week.
“Did you enjoy my hotel room? The tub? Is there anything left in the mini bar?”
How embarrassing would it be to admit she’d spent nearly an hour in the enormous tub, wings submerged in the scorching-hot water? “It was okay. Nothing in the mini bar appealed to me.”
The demon’s eyes seemed to dissect through her indifferent statement. It was almost as though he’d seen her naked and half dozing, the water steaming around her.
“I think something appealed to you. You clean up real nice, angel.”
Asta shook her head at his contrived drawl. “I took a bath. That was it.”
A bath was all she’d had time for. Asta had made a detour to her special spot, the place she kept all the forbidden things an angel shouldn’t be hording. Once there, it had taken her nearly an hour to decide which clothing to wear. And for what? She pouted a bit that he hadn’t even commented on her dress. “So, what do you think of my outfit?”
He smirked, his facial expression that of a lion about to pounce on a gazelle. “Where’d you steal this one from?”
Asta’s face heated, and she stuttered as she collected her thoughts. “I don’t steal! Sometimes I borrow, and when I do, I always find a way to compensate the store. This is an Evelyn Macon original. I made sure she won a scratch-off lottery ticket that was more than the retail price on the dress.”
The demon’s grin threatened to encompasses the lower half of his face. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, shoplifter.”
Jerk. She realized her fascination with human fashion and their interesting, short lives wasn’t in keeping with what an angel should be spending her time doing. One more week, then all would be cleansed away by the purity of Aaru.
“It’s a beautiful dress.” He leaned in close. “In spite of my pickiness over which suits I steal from the drycleaners, I’m not much of a clothes horse. Honestly, you’d be far more attractive naked and sprawled across my bed.”
“That’s not part of our deal tonight,” Asta interjected. “So just wipe that thought right out of your mind.” Not that she could wipe that thought out of her mind. It was there forever now, branded into her brain.
He leaned even closer, so near, his breath caressed her cheek. “I can’t. Not with all this warm-brown skin on display. How do you manage such a convincing human form? Other angels I’ve met look like bleached statues.”
“I’m very young, not even three-million years old.” Why was her voice so breathless? “Umm, so I don’t have the ability to enthrall the humans as other angels do. Blending in with them is essential if I’m going to do my job.”
Dar laughed. “Three million is ancient to us. Most demons that make it through infancy don’t survive more than a few millennia. The big dogs are maybe ten-to-twenty-thousand years old max, and there are only a handful of ancients left that were alive during the war.”
Asta tilted her head, regarding him in surprise. “Wow. I’m the baby up in Aaru—the youngest of all the angels. I was created just as the war started.”
The demon choked on his drink. “You’re fucking joking me. Three-million years and no angels have been getting it on? That’s one hell of a dry spell. You all must be ready to gnaw your wings off.”
“We’re getting it on.” Asta felt herself flush with indignation. “We just can’t breed. Trust me
, we are still capable of intimacy.”
Dar raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Right. You all hate being in physical form and don’t manifest genitals when you do—what are you doing to get off?”
I can’t believe I’m having this conversation at all, let alone with a demon. Asta took a huge swig of her drink, trying to figure out how to explain this properly.
“I’ll have you know that some of us do manifest genitalia—even though we don’t use them. An accurate representation of the human form is important to some of us. And we manage to get off just fine. We merge our spirit-beings. It’s very... satisfying.”
The demon snorted. “Satisfying? A steak is satisfying; sex is mind-blowing. You must not be doing it right.”
Now it was Asta’s turn to choke on her drink. “I am too doing it right! It’s good. It’s nice. I like it.”
Sheesh, she sounded like she was trying to convince him she liked broccoli. It had been satisfying, although she believed a good cup of coffee was more enjoyable.
“Who? And when? Name the last angel you were intimate with, and tell me when you all did the nasty.”
She opened her mouth to tell him it was none of his business. One week. One week of fun then it was back to Aaru. This whole thing was daring, but now it was starting to feel like a spring-break video. Angels Gone Wild. Ah well, here goes nothing.
“Kfial. Three-hundred-and-twenty-nine years, thirty-six days ago.”
Dar’s eyes widened. “Three... never mind. Okay, who was he, and what made him a suitable partner. Because there had to be something suitable about the whole arrangement. I can’t see you having a sweaty fuck in the equivalent of a dark alley in Aaru.”
An image of sex in a dark alley flashed through Asta’s mind, but it wasn’t Kfial pressed against her. What was that about? Was there something in this drink that was making her have very improper thoughts about the demon sitting across from her?
“He’s a virtuous angel, one of Uriel’s choir. He expressed flattering interest, and so... things led to things.” It had been flattering, and their encounter... nice. She’d been relieved when he hadn’t seemed interested in continuing the relationship, though.