Demons Like It Hot

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Demons Like It Hot Page 6

by Ayers, Sidney


  “It’s linen. It’s supposed to be that way.”

  Not the linen he remembered. He leaned in toward her. “So you’re telling me humans enjoy looking sloppy and unkempt?”

  “It’s casual.” She grabbed the price tag and shook it in front of his face. “And expensive, so I’d be quiet if I were you.”

  “Whatever,” he grumbled beneath his breath.

  She moved to a pair of jeans. “How about these?”

  “Too constrictive.”

  One of Serah’s eyebrows swept up. “Really?”

  “I need room… for my weapons.”

  “Oh yeah, I forgot how big your weapons are.”

  Was that an innuendo? He couldn’t tell. Her expression remained noncommittal. He contemplated asking her. But if it wasn’t, then she’d think him depraved—more than he already was.

  She put the pair of tight jeans back and pulled out a pair of cargo-cut jeans. They looked worn, but loose, and they had plenty of pockets. Perfect for combat. “How about these instead?”

  “They look a little frayed in places, but the pockets come in handy.”

  “That’s how people wear their clothes now.”

  Yes, it was confirmed. Humans had become unkempt. But if he wanted to fit in, that’s what he would wear. “They will work just fine, then.”

  Good. She grabbed up a few more in different colors and tossed them onto the mound of clothes. If the piles in his arms grew any taller, he’d start leaning like the Tower of Pisa.

  “I suppose you’d like some in khaki too?”

  “As I said earlier, I am at your mercy, Serah.” Truth was he really was. He was completely out of his element in this shop. Give him a military surplus store, on the other hand, and he could be busy for hours—especially the military surplus stores he shopped at. Try buying silver-tipped throwing stars at the local store.

  “Okay. Khaki, olive green, and tan it is.” She grabbed them and stuffed them in her own pile. She then snuck a pair in black.

  How long did she expect him to be here? “Isn’t this a little excessive?”

  “Better to have options. We aren’t buying everything. You still need to try them on.” She passed by a display of folded T-shirts. Picking one of every color, she shrugged. “Didn’t they tell you about my shopping problem?”

  “Shopping problem.”

  “I like to shop.”

  “A lot of women enjoy shopping. I think the term is shopaholic.”

  Serah snorted out a chuckle. “That’s putting it mildly. But you just put a recovering shopaholic in undiscovered territory.”

  He’d been warned about her uncanny hobby of buying anything under the sun. He just never thought it would include men’s clothing. “But these clothes aren’t for you. You can’t possibly get enjoyment from that.”

  “Trust me. I can.” She plopped another shirt on her mound of clothes. “I’m just amazed they have clothes big enough to fit you.”

  “I don’t know whether to take that as an insult or a compliment.”

  Her sapphire gaze sparkled. “Take it however you want.” With that she turned and flagged down the salesman. “We need a changing room. I hope there isn’t a limit.” She turned to Matthias and leaned in. “If there is, you can use that enrapture thing on him.”

  Matthias reeled. Back in the day he’d have had no qualms about using the demonic skill that allowed him to get humans to bend to his will. But now he was a Paladin. Skills such as temptation and enrapturement could only be used when times were dire. Trying on clothes did not constitute a dire need to alter the human psyche.

  “Paladins only use their demonic talents in an emergency.” He hefted the pile up. “Buying a wardrobe, although necessary, isn’t urgent.”

  The salesman nodded and ambled toward them, swinging his key chain. “We normally have a limit.” He examined Matthias from head to foot. “I can make an exception for a fellow serviceman. I used to be a Marine.” He stood tall and saluted. “Semper Fi. Hooah!”

  “Thank you,” he mumbled.

  “You’ll have to forgive him. He’s been in the field too long. Right, Matt?”

  “Something like that.”

  “So what division are you?”

  He did not come to this store to share war stories. And he sure as hell had stories that would curl the man’s teeth as it were. The less these humans knew, the better.

  “Special Forces,” he said, his voice firm. “I can’t talk about it.”

  The clerk nodded, a secretive spark in his eyes. “Oh! Off the grid. Fair enough.”

  Matthias offered a stoic nod and crossed his arms. No words were necessary.

  The salesman pointed toward the back of the store. “This way, please.”

  “Jeez. Can you be any ruder?” Serah asked under her breath. She brushed past him, leaving the heady scent of orchids mingling with spice behind her, invading his space. That damn fragrance. It was too intoxicating. His body reacted accordingly. Muscles tensed, blood flowed. Things became hard. Too damn hard.

  Serah stopped at a rack and thumbed through the garments. “Hmm.” With a curious gaze, she snatched up a pair of red-and-black polka-dot silk boxers.

  Matthias blinked. Hell and damnation, no. Just the thought of her running her fingers through something worn so close to his intimate parts sent jolts of excitement pounding through his body. And he’d never worn such exquisite fabric ever. Even when he was human. He was born a commoner, after all—not a prince.

  He yanked the garment from her hands and shoved it back on the rack. “I’ll choose my own undergarments, thank you.”

  Rolling her eyes, she turned away and reached for something on another display table. “Fine. I should have known you’d be a tighty-whities kind of guy.” With that, she threw a plastic package of men’s briefs on top of his already overabundant stack of clothes.

  Bloody hell. He couldn’t even pick out his own underwear? Then again, he didn’t know what the hell he was doing. “Those seem, umm… confining.”

  “Oh, so you take this commando role seriously huh?” Serah twirled a curl around her finger. “Doesn’t surprise me one bit.”

  “You aren’t surprised often, as you’re so apt to point out.” Curiosity got the best of him, and he promptly inserted foot. “Why doesn’t it surprise you?”

  “Rafe’s a commando guy too. Must be a demon thing.”

  Had she been intimate with Deleon? The man was attractive enough. He gritted his teeth. Fire burned inside. Not a fire of desire, but something more animalistic. Jealousy? What the hell was coming over him?

  “You’ve seen Deleon naked?”

  Serah’s eyes widened and her mouth gaped open, then she threw her head back in roars of laughter. “Heck no. Lucy would have my hide. We’re best friends. We do talk. Don’t you have any friends?”

  “No.”

  “That sucks.”

  “I lived a solitary life. It’s the mercenary way. Fewer people to trust.”

  Not that he hadn’t had acquaintances over the centuries, but people—including demons—changed over the years. It was better to keep his distance.

  “I’m sure that isn’t the Paladin way. You’re not a mercenary anymore.”

  “Part of me will always be a mercenary.” With that, he brushed past Serah—not before sneaking a pair of those silk boxers into his pile.

  Tighty-whities? Not all the time.

  Chapter 7

  He stormed into the tiny compartment the salesman held open for him. The flimsy door crashed behind him. A grunt of frustration reverberated against the walls as hangers clanked against each other. And Serah thought Lucy was a grumpy shopper. Matthias was ten times worse—if not more.

  “Sorry. He hasn’t gone shopping in a while.” Serah contained her chuckle. “Well, that is if you don’t count the surplus store.”

  “Certainly looks like he’s in good hands.” The clerk peered down to where Matthias’s combat boots peeked from underneath the door. Wit
h a grunt, Matthias kicked the back wall.

  “Might I interest you in some shoes while you wait?”

  “Sounds great. Something nice enough to wear with slacks, but still masculine enough to kick ass.”

  The clerk’s eyes lit up. “I know just the pair. Be right back.” With that, he jogged off toward the shoe section.

  “Damn it!” Matthias grumbled and grunted. Kicking his camouflage fatigues around his ankles, he cursed some more. He mumbled something in Latin. The way it spit from his mouth, she probably didn’t want to know what it meant.

  “Everything okay?” she asked in a singsong voice. She ambled toward the stall and leaned against the door.

  “I hate shopping.”

  “I figured as much.”

  “Take off your boots. It’ll be easier.”

  “And if there is an issue?”

  “I saw you ward the shop.” He seriously needed to lighten up. He was ten times worse than Rafe when he had first landed on Earth. And Rafe—he was pretty bad himself. “I think I’m safe, Matty-boy.”

  He snorted in displeasure. “I feel naked without my boots.”

  “A few minutes of nakedness won’t hurt.” Her body shivered just thinking about it. What the hell? She never thought the body-builder physique attractive… until Matthias Ambrose poofed into her office.

  Now her hormones were roaring. There was no way she could concentrate on anything with him lingering about. Even with his Neanderthal ways, he seeped into her. Damn it. What was she going to do?

  With a loud exhale, he dropped his clunky combat boots to the floor. Then down went his camouflage cargoes. Her breath caught. He was getting undressed, and only a thin layer of wood separated them.

  She caught a glimpse of his feet as he roamed around the tiny compartment. Large feet. She gulped, remembering what she heard about men with large feet. Not that she should care about that particular myth.

  But her mind wandered anyway, wandered up his hard, toned calves, to the rocks of his thighs. Her imagination was out of control. She could feel her hands roving over each cord and tendon, feeling his muscles flex beneath her touch. It was as if she’d touched him before. Like she knew exactly which curve and plane to brush her fingertips across. Every receptor in her body flared.

  Her heart thumped in her chest. Waves of hot energy washed over her, like she’d just been thrown in the oven. If she didn’t stop this, she’d surely burn to a crisp.

  Her fantasy view traveled upward, to the tighty-whities that did little to conceal the bulges. Especially that particular bulge. Curse her imagination. It couldn’t even imagine him naked.

  Man he was good, and a tease to boot. “I know you’re doing it again.”

  “Doing what?” he asked, his silky smooth voice melting her to mush. He pushed open the door and stepped out. Even the loose khaki cargoes couldn’t hide the rippled muscles that bunched and flexed beneath. He smoothed his hands over black linen, in a futile attempt to straighten the crinkled fabric. Curls of dark brown hair peeked from the open collar, also affording her another glance of the contours of his pecs. Serah swallowed the lump in her throat.

  “Not to your liking?” he asked, scrubbing his hands across the stubble on his chin. He turned around to glance in the full-length mirror and raked his fingers through his trimmed hair. Oh God. Not that view. The khaki accentuated the hard planes of his buttocks. Her mind would be off on its wild tangent if he didn’t get out of her sight.

  “It looks good,” she finally managed. More than good, but she couldn’t tell him that. She collected her thoughts. “Why not try on a few more so you can choose what you want?”

  “I’m not that good with fashion, Serah. I’ll need some help.”

  Trust me, you don’t need any help. He could wear a burlap sack and it would look good on him. She was a caterer, not a fashion consultant. Was it her fault her tastes normally ran on the designer side? Not to mention bizarre at times. “Seriously, fashion is overrated. Just wear what makes you feel comfortable.”

  “I know what makes me feel comfortable, and according to you, that’s not an option.”

  “Touché.” Serah flipped her curls back and raised her chin.

  “Miss?” The clerk’s friendly voice broke her thoughts. “How about these?” Several shoe boxes were stacked in his arms, and he held out a pair of Doc Martens. “I’ve got a few different styles to choose from.”

  “So what do you think, Matt? Comfortable enough for you?”

  “I suppose I can try them on.” He marched toward the clerk and took them from him. With that, he stomped back into the changing room and slammed the flimsy door behind him.

  “I hope none of your customers are as brusque as him.”

  The man shrugged. “I’ve seen worse, actually.”

  “Yikes.” Serah took a couple of the boxes from the guy and sat them on the love seat. “Thanks for your help. We should be all set.”

  “No problem. Let me know if you need anything.” The guy strolled off toward the cash register.

  With a small sigh, she plopped down into the softness of the cushiony love seat. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back. A short nap wouldn’t hurt. She’d had an exhausting day. He’d warded the shop anyway. She was safe.

  But she wasn’t safe from her overactive imagination. He was shirtless again. His hard body pressed against her, her fingers gripped tightly around his arms, his biceps rippling against her fingertips. His mouth, gentle yet demanding, sucked, nibbled, and nipped at her neck. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. His tongue swirled along her earlobe. Of course he would know her secret spot, she’d pulled him there. His hands, large and calloused, roamed over the swell of her breasts, and down to her thighs, ready to begin their journey back upward.

  Her breath caught and her pulse skyrocketed. A soft murmur escaped her lips. Part of her wanted to expand on this fantasy; the other, more practical side struggled to tamp down her libido. She couldn’t afford the embarrassment of orgasming in public.

  Forcing her eyes open, she jumped up from the couch. “Stop it!”

  Throwing open the door, Matthias growled. His shirt was unbuttoned, and it fell off his shoulders, exposing the breadth of his chest. She bit her lip. “For the tenth time, I’m not doing anything.” His look of frustration molded into one of concern. Onyx eyes searching, he gripped her shoulders. With an odd gentleness, he raised her chin to look up at him.

  “What happened, Serah?”

  “Nothing. Just a dream.”

  “What did you see?”

  She gnawed her lower lip. She couldn’t tell him the truth that he was making her hormones go bonkers. He was probably an incubus or something. Then again, as territorial as her kind was, Lucy could easily detect another Sexubi. Serah still laughed at the name. Had he been a Sexubi, the introductions would not have been so pleasant.

  “I… I forgot.”

  Matthias jaw ticked. “I know you don’t trust me, but I am here to protect you. At least trust that.”

  Serah crossed her arms. So he thought she didn’t trust him. Well, it wasn’t a complete lie. More like she couldn’t trust herself. He was like her own demon-sized helping of molten lava cake. That sort of deliciousness always ended up in disaster.

  “I know you mean well. I just think your being here is unnecessary.”

  “Necessary enough that the Fore-Demons sent me. That should be proof enough.”

  “I’ve heard how these Fore-Demons operate.” Serah yanked her head away. She couldn’t let herself fall into the pool of that intense gaze again.

  “I’m new to taking orders from the Council, but I do know they have their reasons. You are special. You need protection.”

  “Seriously, this is getting old.” Serah reached down to pick up one of the shoe boxes, but stopped in her tracks.

  The faint hint of sewer and cloves wafted to her nose. Not now. Not in front of him.

  Her stomach roiled as the odor grew
stronger. Her nose twitched. Shivers of revulsion crawled across her skin. She couldn’t let him see her like this. Otherwise her cover would be blown more than it already was.

  Hard muscled arms wrapped around her, pulling her against Matthias’s rigid chest. Her breath caught, as the heat radiated between their bodies. Her body, against her own better judgment, molded against his. God, all that hard muscle. It felt too good. “What the hell?”

  “Shh,” he whispered, his breath teasing along her earlobe. With stealthy—too stealthy by Serah’s standards—footsteps, he backed into the changing room and slammed the door shut with his foot.

  “Do you sense it?”

  Serah forced a mask of bemusement. “Sense what?” she managed.

  “Don’t play ignorant with me, Serah. I saw your reaction.”

  These demons were too smart for their own good. She clenched her fists. This one especially. How was it that he could read her so well?

  “You grabbed me so tight, what other reaction did you expect?”

  “Stop it, Serah. I saw you tense before I grabbed you.”

  “You read into things too much. And you barely know me.”

  “Centuries as a demon have taught me how to gauge people’s reactions. You smell the demon, same as I.”

  Serah narrowed her gaze. If he wasn’t a full Paladin, how could he sense the Infernati?

  “I thought you weren’t officially blessed as a Paladin yet. How can you smell demons?”

  Matthias crossed his arms and leaned in, his onyx gaze burning. “I’m a trained mercenary. That’s all you need to know.” He turned away and swept up the clothes in his arms.

  “Wow. You expect me to trust you to protect me, and you can’t even answer a simple question?”

  “It isn’t simple.”

  The odor of sewer and thick spice grew stronger. Serah’s stomach continued to roil. Whoever this demon was, he was powerful. They always left the strongest scent. Imps and wraiths, on the other hand, she could tolerate. Now she was on the verge of losing her lunch.

  “Whatever. We need to get going.” She looked down at her grandmother’s watch—a quarter to eight. “The store closes in fifteen minutes.”

 

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