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

by Christine Pope

  That sexy gaze shifted back to my thigh, then my cleavage again.

  A shiver of desire ran through my core. Yes. When we finally got to it, this was going to be fun.

  The crowd hooted and hollered, calling out their body part of choice. My neck seemed to be popular, but a growing segment was angling for my thigh.

  He grinned and nodded to a stool. “Take a seat.”

  I did as I was told, and with the way my skirt was positioned, my entire leg was virtually bare once I was settled on the stool.

  He held the shot glass up high, letting everyone in the bar see it. Then he leaned down, drizzling a good portion of spiced rum over my thigh. With a wolfish grin, he lowered his mouth and licked every last drop.

  Searing heat rippled through me, and I had to fight to keep from moaning right there in the bar. Holy shit. I wanted that mouth everywhere. I clenched my fists to keep from burying my hands in his hair. If I touched him, I might explode on the spot.

  More catcalls erupted through the bar.

  He stood up and moved in close with one leg between mine. “Still good?”

  I nodded, unable to speak. If I did, I was certain I’d demand he take me to the back room right then and there.

  Dipping two fingers in his half-empty shot glass, he eyed my neck and then my lips.

  There was no way I was letting him kiss me in front of this giant crowd. Nope. Those lips weren’t coming anywhere near mine unless we were alone and getting horizontal. My libido was too far gone for that sort of thing. I turned my head, giving him full access to my neck.

  He brought his hand up and ran two rum-soaked fingers from the base of my ear down to my collarbone. When he dipped his head and his hot tongue met my flesh, I couldn’t stop the tremor of desire. And the way his other hand tightened on my hip, I knew he’d felt it. Damn. He had all the power in this little scenario.

  This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. By the time he was done, I was going to be dripping with pure lust. I had to find a way to get the upper hand here.

  He held up his not-quite-empty shot glass and asked the crowd, “What shall we do with this?”

  They reached new heights of excitement. The roar was so loud not one coherent suggestion was audible.

  I took the glass from his outstretched hand and dipped my own fingers in it, then pressed them to his lips. His tongue darted out, and it was a good thing I was sitting, because either my knees would’ve given out or I would’ve thrown myself at him. The promise of what was to come later was almost too much to take.

  Whoa. I’d never been so attracted to anyone before. That was really saying something, considering my history. And for once, I didn’t even care about the power boost I was bound to get from the electricity sparking between us. No, what I had going on for this nameless guy was one hundred percent physical. Magic be damned. I wanted to enjoy everything he had to offer. But I couldn’t do that if I seemed like a needy fool.

  I pulled my hand away from his mouth and held my own shot glass up in a salute. “A round of applause, please,” I said to the crowd. “He sure knows how to put on a show, wouldn’t you say?”

  Sally Ann cheered the loudest and did a fist pump. “Do I know how to pick ’em or what?”

  The blonde, who’d been hanging all over Shot Guy, scowled at her. “That was rude. How do you know I’m not his girlfriend?”

  “Because, sister, I’ve seen half a dozen of your type hit on him in the last two weeks.” Sally Ann moved in and lowered her voice. “And I was right here when he said he wasn’t interested.”

  Shot Guy sent the blonde an annoyed look and then glanced back at me with obvious interest. Good. I definitely had his attention. I moved in so our lips were only inches apart.

  His dark eyes clouded with desire as he stared at my mouth. All it would take was one tiny movement in his direction, and his lips would be on mine. I was sure of it. I sucked in a tiny whisper of a breath and said, “Enjoy your night.”

  With a satisfied smile, I pulled back and downed my rum in one gulp. Then I swept past him toward the table I’d been sharing with Ashley.

  The crowd erupted with applause. Had he been anyone else, I would’ve been sure he was following me. But something told me he hadn’t moved an inch. I caught Ashley’s eye. She gave me a tiny shake of her head. Damn. He was still at the bar.

  Time for phase two. Scanning the room, I narrowed in on Brandon, an ex-fling who’d become a good friend, and smiled. Perfect. He was talking with another guy I recognized from our psych class. Psych Guy’s eyes went wide with admiration when I silently took a place beside Brandon and slipped my hand in his. “It’s time to dance.”

  He glanced down at me, humor in his clear blue eyes. “You think so? What about Shot Guy? Isn’t he on the menu tonight?”

  I smirked. “Forget him. He’s old news. Or are you saying you’d rather sit here with no chance of getting laid?”

  Psych Guy swallowed. I knew he thought I’d be taking Brandon home tonight. But after a few minutes of me sending Brandon’s pheromones out into the club, he’d have his pick of the ladies.

  Brandon tightened his hand on mine. “Hell no.”

  I grinned. I knew I could count on him. And why not? He’d get to go home with anyone he wanted… well, other than me. We were friends only. I didn’t date. One-night stands. That was it. Otherwise my magic was too much for the poor guys to handle. But to be fair, Brandon did handle it better than most. He was a witch, too. Non-practicing, though. He’d said he didn’t want to join a coven while in college. I couldn’t blame him. Who wanted to deal with that crap while trying to get an engineering degree? I wasn’t so lucky. My family made demands on me that kept me tied to my own coven.

  Once on the dance floor, I pressed myself to Brandon. “Thanks.”

  “Anytime, doll,” he said in my ear and wrapped his arms around me. “But it would be a lot easier if you’d just let me take care of your power needs.”

  I snorted. “I bet that would be a real hardship for you.”

  “Not in the slightest.” He glanced at the bar and then tilted his head to whisper in my ear. “But looks like tonight I’m gonna be out in the cold. Shot Guy can’t keep his eyes off you.”

  Finally. I was starting to think I’d lost my touch. I glanced up at Brandon and smiled. He really would be the perfect boyfriend if I was looking for a nice, stable guy to lean on. Also he was exactly my type when it came to physical looks. He was on the basketball team—tall, fit, and a well-defined upper body.

  But he was almost too nice. And I felt like shit when I siphoned his power. It left him physically depleted to the point he’d spend most of the next day sleeping it off like a hangover. It was different with regular guys. It would take them a little longer to recover, but they were at least functional. Brandon’s power was just too seductive. And I liked him too much to use him like that. Being a sex witch wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

  “Excuse me,” my future one-night stand said.

  I stopped swaying against Brandon. “Yes?”

  “My friend here was wondering if she could cut in.”

  I glanced around Shot Guy to find the waifish blonde making doe eyes at Brandon. I felt Brandon’s body shake with a suppressed chuckle, and it took all my willpower to not smack him as I stepped back. “Of course.”

  Brandon leaned in, gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, and whispered, “Good luck with this one.”

  Smiling, I nodded to his new dance partner. “You, too.”

  Brandon held out his hand to the blonde, and eyeing each other with mutual interest, the pair disappeared into the crowd. I tilted my head, studying the tall, dark-haired guy standing next to me. “That was kind of you.”

  He shrugged. “It was either that or figure out a way to let her down gently.”

  “Not your type?”

  Meeting my eyes, his lips curled up into that sexy half grin all the hot guys had perfected in high school. “I was hoping for more of a cha
llenge.”

  “I see.” I raised an eyebrow in question. “Who’s the lucky girl?”

  He chuckled. “You already know the answer to that.” Then he held his hand out, offering it to me.

  This guy was trouble waiting to happen. And I couldn’t wait. I slipped my hand into his, and a second later, he tugged me with enough force that I spun into his waiting arms. His hands clutched my hips, holding me against his hard, muscled body.

  My breath caught. Was he the one spelling me and not the other way around? He smelled of clean soap and rum. I couldn’t help leaning in closer.

  The song shifted to a faster number, but my partner kept our pace slow and sensual, barely swaying together. Everything was starting to heat. I wasn’t going to last if he kept this up. My magic was already skating across my skin, dying for his lips on me again.

  It scared me a little. I hadn’t had a one-night stand in over a month. And I’d been working spells with Chessandra almost daily, so I knew I was depleted. But this response was shocking. It was as if I were dying of thirst almost. I had to have something to tide me over until we got down to business.

  I moved my hands from his shoulders and curled my fingers into his hair at the base of his neck. He stiffened for a slight moment and then ran one hand up my spine, sending tingles to all my nerve endings.

  What the hell was going on with this guy? I made a conscious effort to rein in my sexual energy. He was affecting me entirely too much.

  “What’s your name?” he asked in a husky take-me-to-bed tone.

  “Matisse,” I said, pleased when my voice didn’t falter. “And you would be?”

  He inclined his head and his rich, bourbon-colored eyes met mine with lust lurking in their depths. “The guy who’s going to make you come in about five minutes.”

  Chapter 2

  Vaughn

  The sexy siren froze at my words, and I held back the grin trying desperately to break free. There was no doubt in my mind that if I hauled her to the bathroom, I’d have her screaming my name within minutes. That is if I decided to give it to her. Everything about her was screaming sex, from her long dark locks to her never-ending legs. But those eyes. That’s where her heat was originating. I’d noticed them the moment she’d walked in the club.

  My gaze landed on the Ken doll she’d been dancing with. Hell no. The last thing I’d let her do was go home with him. I didn’t see her with Mr. Nice. Not at all. Shari would take care of him. Not that I thought Matisse had any real interest in that other guy. He was just a casualty in the mating ritual we’d started the moment we’d each decided to let the other make the first move.

  “What did you just say?” she asked.

  I chuckled. “I think you heard me.”

  “Presumptuous bastard, aren’t you?” But she said it with a smile in her voice.

  This was going to be interesting. “Only when a gorgeous woman picks me for a round of body shots.”

  She shrugged, not even trying to deny the game had been rigged. “I’m used to getting what I want.”

  There it was again. That undeniable sexual tension radiating from her. It called to me, made me want to drag her off to the nearest hotel room and do unspeakable things until she was gasping in pleasure. My groin tightened. Son of a bitch. My control had all but left the building. “Want to get out of here?”

  She raised one of those perfectly arched eyebrows. “Not the bathroom?”

  I scanned her body, taking in her jewel-encrusted designer heels, her barely there skirt, and the silky, off-the-shoulder top. She screamed seduction and class. “I get the feeling you’d prefer something a little more upscale than a graffiti-covered stall.”

  Her clever fingers curled into my hair once more as she leaned in, her warm breath tickling my ear. “What did you have a mind?”

  “I have a place in the Garden District if you’re game.”

  She glanced at the dark-haired girl she’d entered the bar with. A silent form of communication passed between them, and I assumed that was girl code for I’m leaving with this guy. If I don’t turn up in the morning, this is who you’re looking for.

  There wasn’t anything to worry about. I already knew she was some sort of witch. My stepmom and brother were both witches. I could sense their magic. Only Matisse’s power was stronger than either of theirs. If she wanted to, she could probably spell my ass to Hell and back. But she wouldn’t. She wanted me. No question.

  I’d never had trouble attracting the opposite sex. My stepmom speculated I had some sort of magical power that drew women to me. I didn’t know about that, but most nights I went out, I had more than my share of females to choose from. Real hardship, right? Only it wasn’t nearly as satisfying when I didn’t have to put any effort into the chase.

  But this girl? She’d made it obvious she was interested and then promptly let me know I wasn’t the only game in town. And even though I knew she wanted me, knew I would have her before the night was over, she wasn’t handing herself over willingly either. If she were, we’d have already been in that bathroom stall.

  “Maybe we should grab a coffee first,” she said, tapping a message into her phone. “You know… learn each other’s names before I let you get your hands on my black lace.”

  Leave it to her to wear black under her white skirt. “It’s not your lace I’m interested in,” I lied. Nothing sounded sexier than seeing her creamy breasts spilling out of her bra.

  “I bet.” She clasped her hand lightly around my fingers and led the way to the front door. I followed all too willingly. When was the last time I’d left a club with a girl for coffee? That was somewhere around never.

  Out on the sidewalk, I took the lead through the residential streets that surrounded the university. “My ride is this way.”

  Matisse hovered close to me, the cool December air causing gooseflesh to rise on her arms. I wrapped an arm around her and tucked her close to my body. Damn if she didn’t fit perfectly, as if she was made to be plastered to my side. Her hair smelled of berries and cream, making my mouth water with anticipation. If she smelled this good, what the hell would she taste like? I’d find out soon enough.

  “This is it.” I stopped next to the 2000 Indian Chief I’d gotten in a trade for a restored vintage model.

  “Nice. Love the custom paint.” Matisse eyed the black-and-silver marbled paint job, wrapping her arms around herself to guard against the cold.

  I pulled my leather jacket out of the saddlebag and handed it to her. “Here. This should help.”

  “Thanks.” She shrugged into the too-large jacket and smiled gratefully. “But I don’t think I can get on that thing with you.”

  “Why? Too scared?” I said, with a challenge in my tone.

  She laughed. “Not on your life. I’ve been riding since I was ten.”

  I sent her a look of admiration, and a ripple of that sexual tension seized me. “Really? And what exactly do you ride?”

  “A Harley Sportster. It’s easier to manipulate than your Indian and more reliable than a vintage model.”

  Jesus, this girl was sexy. “Then why can’t you get on my bike? Is it the skirt?”

  Her dark smoldering eyes met mine as she gave me a haughty smile. “No. I don’t take rides from strangers.”

  A ripple of laughter reverberated through my chest. I never had told her my name. I held out a hand. “It’s Vaughn. Vaughn Paxton.”

  She slipped her smooth hand into mine. “It’s nice to meet you, Vaughn.”

  “Likewise, Matisse…”

  “Call me Mati.” Her smile vanished as she bit her lower lip.

  “Something wrong?” I asked, not letting go of her hand.

  “Oh no.” Her sexy smile was back. “Nothing at all. Now, how about that coffee?”

  At this point, I’d take this girl just about anywhere she wanted to go. The thought made me shift with unease. I’d gone from wanting a quick interlude in the club’s bathroom to taking her back to my place for a much longe
r night of passion to settling for just about anything she was willing to give. I shook my head, trying to dislodge the thoughts. Whatever was going on wasn’t normal.

  “You okay?” she asked with an air of innocence that I wasn’t buying.

  “Yeah. Just clearing my head.” I climbed on my bike. “Ready?”

  She eyed me and my prized Indian. Then she nodded once, hitched up her skirt, and swung her exposed leg over the seat before settling in behind me. The fact that her bare thighs were clasped around me made me instantly hard. If I didn’t get her back to my apartment soon, I was going to lose it and take her right there on the bike.

  I pulled my helmet on and handed her my extra. After both were secured, I fired the bike to life and roared away from the curb, reveling in the way her lean body was pressed to my back. Usually I preferred to ride alone as most of the girls clung to me, rigid and scared, when I leaned into turns or zipped between traffic. But not this girl. She kept a light grip, leaned into the turns with me, and whooped after I zigzagged past a line of cars stopped behind a broken-down SUV.

  By the time I pulled up to my place, she was laughing and her hot breath on my neck was causing my blood to boil with intense need. Jesus. What happened to my self-control?

  I turned my upper body and craned my neck, catching her lips in a scalding kiss. Her hot tongue caressed mine in a slow, sensual exploration. The underlying need was there, but she was holding back, enjoying the moment for all it was worth. I stifled a groan and pulled away. “Inside,” I ordered.

  She raised both eyebrows in curious amusement, then slid slowly off the back seat. “I thought we were going for coffee.”

  “There’s coffee inside.”

  “What exactly do you think is going to happen once you have me all to yourself?”

  I grabbed her hand and tugged her up the six steps to my front porch. I lived on the ground floor of an old Victorian that had been turned into a four-plex. At least I did for right now. In my line of work, it didn’t pay to hang around any place for too long. Being a bounty hunter means I’m often a target for revenge. Especially when I’m usually asked to track down those with paranormal abilities. I’d had to move five times in the last two years.