Demons & Djinn: Nine Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Novels Featuring Demons, Djinn, and other Bad Boys of the Underworld

by Christine Pope

  Dar chuckled. “You should have seen the look on the humans’ faces. I told them we were at a costume party and you’d passed out drunk from doing tequila body shots. Everyone was very helpful, opening doors and holding the elevator.”

  “But we were all bloody. My clothes were ripped to shreds. What kind of costume party were we at that we’d be covered in blood?”

  “A really good one?” Dar laughed. “Nah, you were dressed as a zombie angel, and I was your snack for the evening.”

  “It’s what, ten o’clock in the morning? I’m passed out drunk and we’re coming home from a costume party late Saturday morning?”

  “It’s Chicago. No one batted an eye.” The demon nuzzled her hair. “Wanna eat my brains?”

  She couldn’t help but smile. “What brains?” This felt so good, sitting in the hot water enclosed in his arms, laughing together. He did have brains. He was clever and funny, strong and sexy. He’d saved her life with that stupid sword and various kitchenette projectiles.

  And he’d killed a human. It didn’t matter that she’d managed to bring Carter back to life; Dar had violated the terms of his immunity.

  “Carter. . . .” She wasn’t sure how to say it.

  “Oh, for fuck sake. He’s fine. Probably in the hospital by now. I was more worried about getting you out of there and making sure you were okay to bother with your little human pet.”

  That was the Dar she knew and loved. Asta leaned against him and buried her face in his chest, trying to commit every bit of him to memory. “You knifed him with scissors.”

  This time he sighed, his arms tightening around her.

  “I know, I know. I’m toast. You’ll fill out fifty forms in triplicate, and within half an hour, every angel in and out of Aaru will be gunning for me. I’m a dead demon.”

  How could she explain it otherwise? She was terrible at lying, and if her report was subpar, the Ruling Council could entrance Carter and get the truth from him. There was no way she could keep Dar out of this.

  “You want to kill me instead?” His voice had a rough edge under the teasing tone. “I’d rather meet my end at your hands than by some pompous asshole who will take enormous pleasure in lopping my head off.”

  She wouldn’t take pleasure in it. She’d hate every moment of it. There was no way she could kill him, never in a billion years. And there’s no way she could implicate him in the report. She would buy him time enough to get safely back to Hel at least. Stirring, Asta pulled away to pivot on his lap and look into his silver-gray eyes. They were serious — sad and full of regret. Suddenly she wanted nothing more than to sink back against him and let the warm water wash the rest of the world away.

  But she was returning to Aaru. In a few hours, there would be no more tubs, no more flying in the city, drinking espresso, delighting in the slide of silk against her skin. There would be no more Dar.

  “You need to get out of here. Go back to Hel. I’ll delay the report for a few days, and I’ll lie. They’ll eventually find out, but you’ll be safely home by then.”

  His hands stroked her hair, tugging gently at the wet curls. “You’d lie for me?”

  She closed her eyes, relishing the feel of him against her. “Yes.”

  One word carried so much meaning. She’d more than lie for him; she’d fall for him. He was so much more than a fling, than a bit of sin before leaving this earthly plane. Dar was her heart.

  For a moment they sat motionless until Dar gently moved her from his lap and rose, water cascading off his skin. “Are you okay?”

  She watched him climb out of the tub, dry himself off, and dress. “Yes. I’m fine,” she lied.

  Too quickly he was fully clothed. The tub suddenly seemed far too big for one being.

  “Goodbye, Asta.” He struggled, as if there was something else he wanted to say. Then he snapped his mouth shut and gestured toward her. “Take care, okay? Don’t let those asshole angels beat you down.”

  She nodded. “Stay safe, Dar.”

  With that, he was gone. And a city full of two-point-seven-million people never felt so empty.

  Chapter 23

  The weather was circling down from the north, bringing a sharp bite of cold into the autumn morning. Typical. The colorful leaves and crisp scent were Chicago’s brief nod to fall before winter came roaring in with all its might. No matter the season, this was her city, and it was beautiful — especially when she was nine hundred feet above ground, watching the sunrise with a cup of steaming espresso in hand.

  Cars made their way along Lake Shore Drive, hinting at the rush hour to come. Sweepers and garbage trucks banged their way through the side streets and alleyways. Once things started moving and shaking, she’d drop downtown for breakfast and some window-shopping. Maybe grab a book and head for Millennial Park. Cobb salad for lunch. Catch an early comedy show at Second City or Zanies, then over to Stanley’s to see the guys. Unless a demon popped onto her radar — then all other plans were on hold. Of course, she hadn’t sensed a demon in months, and wasn’t likely to anytime soon.

  It was better than meditation in Aaru, this daily routine of hers. She thanked the stars every time she remembered her return home, how she’d begged to be given another century of assignment. Gabriel had needed her there; her report of Rubeus had raised all sorts of red flags. She was too young; she could have died, blah, blah, blah. Why they’d finally allowed her to return, she had no idea. Best not to question these things in case the opportunity vanished under scrutiny.

  Three months and no sign of him. Had he come back while she was in Aaru and assumed she was gone forever? Had he been killed? Was he afraid to leave Hel? Afraid wasn’t a word Asta would think to associate with Dar, but just as she was unwilling to question the Ruling Council’s decision about her, she was equally unwilling to ask about the demon’s whereabouts.

  No, she was just afraid. He was too clever to be killed, to brave to cower in Hel for the rest of his life, but he probably had moved onto the next fun adventure. Without her. That’s what she feared. That’s the truth she didn’t want to know.

  Asta rose, drinking the last of her espresso and stretching her wings. Time to get a move on if she wanted a quick flight along the lake before the traffic hit. She stepped to the edge of the roof, inhaling to catch the scent of cold air off the water. The building trembled in a gust of wind that roared in her ears and carried with it the faint note of demon-song.

  Dar.

  She froze, her heart jumping into her throat. She’d recognize his energy anywhere. He was here — in her city. He was heading this way.

  Wings snapped into hiding. Asta raced for the rooftop stairs, taking them two at a time and bursting into her little condo. What to wear, what to wear? Oh shit — shoot, he was coming. Hangers and clothes flew as she tore through the racks, selecting then discarding various dresses and pants suits. In the end, she chose jeans and the simple white button-down oxford shirt with the high-top sneakers she’d worn during their rooftop sashimi dinner.

  Tearing back up the steps, Asta raced around the roof, trying to find a good place to sit. Or stand. Or recline. One where she looked sexy and casual, but not like she was posed, or waiting for him. Shit, shit, he was in the building. Wings out or not? He liked her wings, but they’d mess up the lines of her shirt, and she’d have to repair the tears.

  The door opened, and Asta threw herself to the ground, trying to look serene and contemplative while her heart tore around her chest like an Indy Car.

  “Hi.” After three months, after all they’d been through together, all they’d shared, and that was what came out of her mouth? Sheesh.

  Dar grinned and walked over, gingerly sitting down beside her and casting a nervous glance over the roof edge. “Promise me you’ll scoop me up if I fall off?”

  “Before or after you hit the ground?” Witty comeback. That was more like it.

  “Fuck, I hope before. Otherwise you’ll need one of those street sweepers.” He tilted his head, e
yes warm as they examined her face. “Sorry I’m late. I had a few things to do in Hel that took longer than expected.”

  Her whole body heated up like one big flame. “You knew I was here? I mean, not in Aaru?”

  His smile turned suggestive. “One should always know where one’s angel is.”

  Asta scooted closer, resting her hand on his thigh and her spirit-self against his. “I was afraid I wouldn’t be back at all. Your angel came pretty close to being in Aaru for the rest of her life.”

  “Yes, I know.” He scowled at her, but his eyes danced with laughter. “Could that report of yours be any shittier? That thing had holes big enough to drive a truck through. Rubeus accidentally stabs his possessed human with scissors, killing Carter Phelps. Then after being impaled repeatedly with a unicorn horn, you manage to decapitate him with a microwave and a cheap Excalibur knock-off then crawl halfway across the city to a hotel penthouse suite.”

  She slid her hand up his leg. “The Iblis thought it was a riveting tale, and Rafael said I showed great resourcefulness.”

  Dar snorted. “Yeah. If you didn’t have that tight-ass Gabriel wound around your wing, you would have been fucked.”

  Her mentor had come through, although he’d made it quite clear how disappointed he was both with her report and her insistence on returning. But with Rubeus dead, and Carter Phelps rather confused about the events in question, Gabriel had ruled in her favor.

  “Carter is having a tough time of it.” He was. The human was being indicted on various cyber-crime charges and being sued by at least six corporations. But he was alive, and the last time she’d seen him, he had introduced her to a lady friend. Hopefully things would work out for him.

  “I don’t give a flying fuck about Carter Phelps.” Dar grabbed her hand and moved it from his thigh to between his legs. “I’ve missed you, Asta. You’ve no idea how much I’ve missed you, and I don’t just mean sex. But I have missed sex with you, too. How about we go roll around the clothes in your gigantic closet, and I’ll show you how much I’ve missed you.”

  By all of Creation, she loved this demon. And even though he hadn’t said the words, she could see by the gleam in his eyes that he loved her right back. No matter. She’d get the words out of him.

  With a gentle squeeze of her hand, she had him.

  “Damn.” Dar groaned, standing and pulling her to her feet. “Let’s go now before I shoot a load in my pants.”

  “Lovely.” She laughed. “Your pillow talk could use some work there, big boy.”

  He pulled her against him, kissing her deep while his hands dug through her curls. Breaking the kiss, his silver-gray eyes met hers. “I love you, Asta. I love you, and you’re mine. How’s that for pillow talk?”

  She stared at him, drinking him in. Her very soul sang at the thought of her future with him. “Better. Although you’ll need to repeat it several times per day.”

  His hand caressed her cheek as his lips reached for hers. “Deal.”

  Enjoy this story? Find the first book in the Imp series at your favorite online retailer.

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  Marked by Temptation

  Deanna Chase

  Mati Ballintine is a sex witch looking for a hot one-night stand to bolster her power, and sexy Vaughn Paxton is cocky enough to make her work for it. But when their one night turns into more than they bargained for, one life is changed, another threatened, and suddenly there’s a whole lot more than lust at stake.

  Chapter 1

  Matisse

  “I think your sex-witch pheromones are broken.” Ashley smirked and took a long sip of her hurricane.

  Glancing over her shoulder at Mr. Tall, Dark, and Holy-Shit-He’s-Hot, I frowned. Had I gone too long between one-night stands? As a sex witch, I could usually have the pick of a club without even trying. All I had to do was put the intention out there, and the next thing I knew, I’d have him eating out of the palm of my hand. This one, though? He hadn’t even looked twice.

  “Mati?” Ashley waved her hand in front of my face. “I don’t think staring is helping.”

  I blinked and then met her pale green eyes. “Do you think he’s a witch?” That would explain it. He could have cast a protection spell of some sort that would make him immune to my magic.

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so. There’s no magical signature, but I wouldn’t say he’s mundane either.”

  I gave her a confused look. “What does that mean? Is he an angel or intuitive or something?”

  Ashley was a witch of a different sort. She couldn’t cast spells. Her talent was in reading those with supernatural abilities. Not only could she sense a witch, but she could tell what kind of witch a person was or if they were an angel or psychic, et cetera.

  “I’m not sure. I’ve never encountered his energy before.” Her brows pinched as she concentrated. “It’s so odd. Not a witch or an angel. Definitely not a demon.”

  I let out a small sigh of relief. That was a very good thing. Demons were nasty business. If he was a demon, I’d be obligated to send him back to Hell, and that would seriously ruin my plans for the evening. “So an intuitive then?”

  She shrugged. “Probably, though I don’t know what kind. So be careful once you decide you’re done waiting for him to come to you.”

  “You know me too well.” I grinned and tilted my beer bottle up, taking a swig of my Abita Purple Haze.

  “If you’re lucky, he won’t know what hit him.”

  I laughed. “He’s the one who’s gonna get lucky.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Right. Like you don’t enjoy yourself at all.”

  “Well…” I shifted my skirt so the slit landed in the middle of my thigh. If I needed to have sex to build up my powers, I sure as hell was going to enjoy it. I mean, right? How else was I supposed to deal with that?

  Still, trolling for one-night stands in a bar sometimes meant ending up with under performers. There was nothing more disappointing than unwrapping the hottest guy in the place, only to find out he was a dud. Especially when I had spells to cast.

  “What’s the latest mission?” Ashley asked. Her careful, nonchalant question was so calculated I couldn’t help but hide a giggle. Poor thing. She was dying to be more useful to the Witches’ Council, but she’d never be more than an administrator. Her powers just weren’t there.

  “Special project for my sister.”

  “Oh.” Ashley stared at me with interest but didn’t ask any more questions. My sister was the head of the Angel Council. Any work for her was strictly confidential, which was unfortunate, because I could really use someone to talk to about it.

  “Yeah.” I downed the last of my beer and slammed the bottle on the table. “Time to get down to business.”

  “He’s doomed.” She raised her glass in his direction and saluted him.

  Gods, I hoped so. I needed a power fix, and this guy was outshining everyone in the club. Smoothing my long hair back, I gave Ashley a tiny wave and sauntered across the bar. My target wasn’t even watching me, but that didn’t matter. The attitude was more about getting myself ready for the battle.

  Just as I was about to make my move, a tiny waif of a blonde slid next to him and wrapped her arm around his waist. She cocked her head, swinging her long ponytail over her shoulder as she gazed up at him. Well, that made things more interesting. Competition had never stopped me before. His lips turned up in a slow seductive smile as he ran his fingers down the back of her exposed neck.

  “No date?” she asked him.

  He shook his head. “I’m not looking for one either.”

  Her lower lip jutted out into a sexy little pout as she said something about him needing the gentle touch of a good woman.

  Oh Lord, help me. How desperate can you get? I squeezed between two tall, muscle-bound jocks and cast them each a flirty smile before turning my atte
ntion to the bartender.

  “Matisse. Ready for that shot? Tequila?” Sally Ann gave me a knowing smile. She’d seen my routine a dozen times before.

  “Rum this time.” I was in the mood to mix it up. Casting a glance at Mr. Tall, Dark, and Too-Hot-to-Handle, I said, “New Orleans, Cajun spice.”

  She glanced at my future one-night stand and grinned. “Spicy indeed.”

  I laughed. Hopefully.

  Sally Ann poured two shots, set one in front of me and held the other one over her head. “Time for body shots!”

  A cheer went up through the bar. I turned around, holding my shot in front of me, letting them all know I was the prize. It was a well-known bar game that was supposed to be thrust upon unsuspecting patrons—usually bachelorettes—where the dude of the bartender’s choice gets a free shot only if he performs a body shot and wins the approval of the crowd.

  They never said no. Too much pressure.

  Sally Ann scanned the bar twice, never once making eye contact with the obvious target. On her third pass, she slowed and then stared right at him, holding the shot out. “Do you think you can handle it?”

  There was that seductive, confident smile again. “I think I’ve got it covered.”

  Sally Ann grinned. “We have a volunteer, folks. Now step back. Give him some space.”

  The crowd parted, forming a half circle around him and me. I set my shot on the counter and leaned back, waiting for him to make his move.

  He accepted the rum from Sally Ann and placed the shot glass next to mine while he took a long perusal of my bare thigh. Then he gazed at my cleavage before finally meeting my eyes. “Any preference?”

  “Any place that’s already accessible,” I replied, lifting my foot and resting my stiletto on the lowest rung of a bar stool so that my skirt inched higher.