“Aren’t you going to thank me?” he said, trying to coax her out of petulance.
“Thank you?” she said, terrifyingly quiet. “Why on earth should I thank you?”
It was true. He had brought both her and Nick into this mess. He had invited them to dinner with Corbin, and inadvertently exposed them to Luciana. It was entirely his fault. Normally, he would have relished the experience. Tonight, he felt like he had lost something precious.
“He’ll be all right. I promise you,” Julian said. It was the first real promise he’d made in an eternity that was largely unmotivated by evil. He still wanted desperately to bed her, and he supposed that played a large part in his actions tonight. But more than that, he’d extended his protection to Nick so that she wouldn’t have to worry. Still, she didn’t seem to understand that.
“They’re going to destroy Nick. It’s only a matter of time.”
Julian leaned against the elevator paneling, sidling closer to her. “Relax. They were just playing down there in the pool.”
“Were they?”
“Nick was probably pulling threesomes long before tonight. The first time I saw him, he was snorting coke off a hooker’s ass. Like he said, he’s a big boy. He can take care of himself,” Julian said. But as he spoke, the words sounded hollow even to him.
“The problem is that he can’t. I’m supposed to take care of him.” She crossed her arms and leaned against the far side of the elevator, her mouth set in a firm line.
Her stubbornness irked him. It was an obstinacy born of the same need for control that caused people to believe she was incapable of having fun. Yet, what annoyed him the most was that, in this instance at least, she was right.
The elevator bell pinged and the doors slid open. Her silence grew from an annoyance to a sting; he felt its bite intensify as he escorted her down the hall and into their hotel suite. When he finally closed the door behind him, she turned to glare, her stance set for a fight.
“Damn it all to hell,” he said, turning to go. “I’ll go get Nick. You stay here.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“No, it’s far too dangerous,” he growled. Then he turned and headed back downstairs.
The three of them were still in the pool, their wet clothes shed and scattered on the deck. Luciana’s bare breasts shone in the moonlight, Nick suckling at them. Julian was of half a mind to warn the young man right then and there that Luciana was a murdering she-demon from the depths of the underworld, hell-bent on destroying Serena and anyone associated with her to boot. But he refrained. After all, it would be a case of the pot calling the kettle black. Considering that the pot himself was very, very black.
When Luciana heard the scrape of his shoe on the poolside tile, she turned. “Julian. You’ve come to join us, after all, caro mio.”
“No, Luciana, I’ve come to break up the fun.” He waded into the pool and grabbed Nick by the scruff of the neck.
“Spoilsport!” she pouted.
Corbin paused, his hands still filled with her breasts. “What’s gotten into you, my man? Is it the male to female imbalance you’re upset about? We could easily recruit a few of the ladies from the casino.”
“My club, my rules,” Julian said. “You two can do whatever you damned well please. Go fornicate in the fountains of the Bellagio, for all I care. But Nick is here by my invitation, he’s getting paid on my dime, and he will abide by my terms. And I don’t think it’s unreasonable for me to ask him not to participate in a threesome in my brand-new pool.”
“Serena put you up to this,” Nick said through gritted teeth. He hunted through the sodden clothes for his underwear.
“We’ll go to Corbin’s suite, then,” Luciana said loftily, wading out of the pool after them. “Feel free to join us.”
Julian tried not to stare, and said, “Not if you were the last woman on earth.”
He heard her outraged gasp behind him, but he dragged Nick, still shirtless, by the ear behind him. They walked through the lobby, leaving a trail of water behind them. Julian’s trousers were soaked through. He wondered if his Savile Row tailors had contemplated the effects of chlorine when constructing the garment.
Around them, people turned to gawk. Two women stood beside them as they waited for the elevator. “Isn’t that Nick Ramirez?” the first asked.
“It can’t be! He looks terrible,” the second whispered back. They lingered, trying to hear every bit of conversation they could before the elevators slid shut again.
As the elevator doors opened, there stood the attractive chef’s assistant who’d delivered breakfast this afternoon.
“I’ve seen every one of your movies, Nick,” Tiffany said shyly. “I loved you in Ascent to Heaven. You were so believable as a depraved monk.”
Nick gave her a sloppy grin.
“Is there anything you require before you turn in?” she asked.
“What he needs is a babysitter,” Julian muttered.
Tiffany’s gaze played fleetingly over Nick. Julian could tell by looking at her that she wasn’t exactly the type of girl to fall in bed with just anyone. But with a coy little smile she said, “For the right guest, anything can be arranged.”
At any time in the past, Julian would happily have accepted her subtle offer and let the two of them have at it. But Serena definitely wouldn’t approve. So before Nick could answer, Julian said, “Thanks, but Nick will be fine on his own tonight. Won’t you, my friend?”
Leaving the disappointed girl in the elevator, Julian hauled Nick to his room. Sat him on the bed. Standing over the actor, he said in a deep and rumbling voice, “Do not leave this room tonight. Do you understand me?”
Nick trembled, looking up at him blankly, his defenseless mind saturated by Julian’s order. “Yes, sir.”
Humans. So pathetic.
“You’re feeling very tired now,” Julian instructed him. “So tired you want to close your eyes and go to sleep.”
Nick yawned, his eyes shuttering closed as he succumbed to Julian’s suggestion, body contracting into a fetal curl. Just before he passed out cold, he muttered, “Sometimes I think she’s an angel.”
Julian left him there to dream of feathered wings and halos, and took off to find Serena.
In their hotel suite, Serena scrambled to find a phone. Now she had another chance to call Arielle, and she must succeed this time. The situation had become far too critical. She needed her supervisor’s advice, now. She scanned the living room, but Julian had apparently removed the phone here, too. Damn him! His bedroom. Maybe he’s left a phone in there.
She hesitated at the door. Invasion of privacy was not her favorite modus operandi, and the feeling of crossing into a demon’s territory—into his most private and personal space—sent a chill over her. Shaking, she opened the door. The room was a mirror image of hers, only with Julian’s personal effects neatly arranged. She sat down on the bed and dialed Arielle’s number. As the phone rang, she prayed, Pick up, please pick up.
Arielle’s voice on the other end of the line was the most comforting thing she’d heard in days.
“It’s me, Serena! Arielle, thank heavens you’re there,” she nearly shouted, before she reminded herself to keep her voice to a whisper.
“Don’t panic. Meredith told me exactly what happened at the party.” Arielle sounded strangely calm. But it was her job to remain calm when her supervisees got into scrapes. “She found someone to cover your yoga classes.”
Yoga classes? Serena was shacked up with a demon, and the first thing Arielle commented on was covering her yoga classes? I’m not sick with the flu. I’m in grave danger of eternal damnation. “Aren’t you worried that I’m staying in a suite with Julian Ascher?”
“It’s not the ideal situation, I know. However, what happened couldn’t be helped. But it’s you, Serena. I know you’ll do the right thing. And in any case, you’ll be out of there by the end of the week.”
“Arielle, this place is crawling with demons! Co
rbin Ranulfson owns the hotel where we’re staying, and there’s a female demon here called Luciana who seems extremely dangerous. Nick is in terrible danger of falling under their influence. What do I do? I wish I could just leave right now.”
“You gave your word, Serena. It’s too much of a risk to break a promise made to a demon. There would be consequences.”
“Consequences?” Serena stopped breathing. “Could I die? Only a demon can kill an angel, right? That’s what Gabriel told us at our ordination ceremony.”
“The soul never dies, even if the body ceases to exist. You know that, Serena.”
So technically speaking, the answer is yes, she thought. I might be recycled again, like the Archangels explained before. But my body could still die again.
There was a long sigh on the other end of the phone. “Serena, these things happen in the course of our duties, darling. You’re doing the best you can. I know it’s difficult, but it is imperative that you stay with Julian.”
These things happen? Serena pulled the receiver away from her ear and stared at it. Something was definitely very odd. Arielle’s cryptic answers were downright frightening.
“What’s going on, Arielle?”
“I can’t tell you exactly what to do,” the supervisor said. “But there is one piece of advice I can give you. Find the inherent goodness that still exists in Julian and make him see it in himself. He must come to the realization on his own, but you have to help him.”
Serena heard the front door open. Heard Julian calling her name.
“He’s coming. I have to go,” she whispered into the phone. “I’ll try to call again tomorrow.”
“Remember, you must keep love in your heart,” Arielle said before she hung up.
Serena listened to the Archdemon’s footsteps striking across the marble floor.
Love, she thought wildly as the sound approached the bedroom. Arielle had gone completely insane. What place did love have in a situation like this? Goodness? In Julian? That was pushing things a bit far. Why does Arielle think she knows what’s inside Julian, anyway?
The door opened.
“Who are you talking to?” He came to stand at the foot of the bed, looming over her. Water from his soaking-wet dress pants dripped onto the marble floor.
“It was just…my roommate. I wanted to make sure the cat was fed.” She opened her eyes wide, trying to feign innocence.
He stripped off his suit jacket and threw it over a nearby chair. “You’re a terrible liar. You don’t even have a cat. If you had one, do you think I would have sent you a puppy? What’s the punishment for lying, angel?”
She ignored his question. What concerned her more was the thought of poor Milo, cared for by demon servants in Julian’s big, empty house. Instinctively, she moved away from him, sidling toward the head of the bed. “What did you do?” she said, eyeing his wet trousers.
He kicked off his shoes, and bent to peel off his damp socks. “What do you think I did? I jumped into the pool and fished Nick out.”
“Where is he?”
“In his room. Tiffany offered to babysit him. She seemed pretty keen, but I knew you would disapprove. Don’t worry, Nick’s not going anywhere.”
Relief flooded through her. Nick was safe, at least for the moment.
But was she safe?
Julian dropped his pants, left them in a wet heap on the floor. Next, he unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it on top of the pile. He was magnificent, pure muscle, his body as chiseled and symmetrical as a statue of a young Roman god. He stood in his soaked boxer shorts. They clung, and through the wet fabric, she saw that he was already hard.
He wanted her. That much was very clear. What was also clear, although far more disturbing, was the fact that she wanted him, too. All she could do was stare as he rid himself of the last vestige of clothing. Her mouth went dry. She blinked, her eyes fixated on that glorious male hardness that jutted from his body.
“I’ll bet you were calling for help,” he said. “Rest assured, angel, no one can help you now.”
He bent to reach for her. She expected his touch to be cold and damp, but his fingers were warm as they stroked the line of her jaw.
“I just did you a big favor. Perhaps you could think of some way to thank me.”
She slid away a few inches, shying from his touch. “Don’t you ever do anything that isn’t for evil purposes?”
He smirked. “What, out of the goodness of my heart?” He rubbed his thumb over the sensitive swell of her lower lip. “Serena, my sweet girl, will you ever learn? I’m a demon. This is what I do.”
“Find the inherent goodness that still exists in Julian,” Arielle had said. At times, Serena had forgotten that Julian was a demon. Had sometimes looked at him as though he were a normal man. But never had she considered that actual goodness might be lurking somewhere in him. Despite his own denial of that goodness. Still…maybe the possibility wasn’t as insane as she’d originally thought.
Right now, however, most likely he had not saved Nick out of the goodness of his heart. His ulterior motive seemed pretty clear.
“I don’t owe you anything,” she said hesitantly, still confused about Arielle’s advice.
“You’re right,” he said in that low, velvet voice of his. “You don’t. But you’re not doing this because you owe me. You’re doing it because you want me.”
She closed her eyes, felt her hair cascading around her as she shook her head. “I don’t.”
“You’re trembling. It’s not cold,” he said.
“It’s been a difficult night,” she cried. “Maybe it’s the alcohol.” Her gaze wandered toward the open door, and she wondered how she could maneuver herself off the bed.
He tracked her gaze to the exit, raised an inquiring eyebrow. “Where would you go?”
Where, indeed? Back to L.A., even though Arielle had practically ordered her to stay here and honor her promise? Back to Carmel, where her brother was safely at home? He would not be safe for long if she did leave. There was nowhere to go, not when those she loved most would be put in danger by her actions.
“What do you want from me?”
“All I want is for you to lie back and take the pleasure I’m going to give you.”
Slowly, he laid her on the bed. He drew his fingertips down the curve of her chin and the smooth length of her neck. He traced her collarbone, spanning its width, before his touch traveled lower, to the slope of her breasts.
His blue-green gaze was intense as he looked down at her. “You were beautiful tonight,” he said. “All through dinner, I wanted to touch you like this.”
His fingertips trailed down, skimming over the surface of her dress where it covered her breasts. He watched her, drinking in her every reaction, from the moist slip of her tongue over her parted lips, to the rise and fall of her breasts with her rapid breaths.
“I wanted to kiss you like this,” he said.
He claimed her mouth with a groan that seemed to rise up from deep inside him, from a night’s worth of repressed desire. A night he’d spent watching her, wanting her. And she knew it. Secretly, although she was loathe to admit it to herself, she liked it. Now, with his lips and tongue, he teased, sending a white-hot flash searing from her lips down to her core. While he kissed her, his fingers found the zipper at the side of her bodice, unfastening it in one expert flick of his wrist.
She caught at the side of her dress, holding the parted fabric closed. “What are you doing?”
“You’re full of silly questions tonight, aren’t you,” he said. He caught the lobe of her ear in his mouth, gently suckling. His breath was warm and heavy. “What does it look like I’m doing?” he whispered. “I believe in equality, and it seems patently unfair that one of us is still fully dressed.”
He kissed her again, muting the weak sound of protest that died as a mewl in her throat. While his tongue made a stealthy invasion of her mouth, he pushed the frivolous straps of her dress from her shoulders. Then he broke the
kiss, his breathing in shallow pants as he eased the silk down. Beneath the dress, she wore a strapless corset from the collection in the closet. She’d had no time to replace the lingerie he’d chosen for her. The corset had been the most tasteful item among the selection, black lace over delicate pink tulle. His inhale was sharp when he saw it, and on his exhale, he whispered, “Exquisite.”
He removed her dress and turned to toss it aside as though discarding a handkerchief. She lay in the corset and its matching G-string, a garment that was no more than a triangular scrap of black-and-pink lace. A garter belt held up back seam stockings, and she still wore her high-heeled sandals. He stripped each item from her one by one. The shoes he tossed in the direction of his own. His fingers were steady and sure as he unclipped her garters and drew each stocking down. He didn’t falter for a second as he unfastened the row of hooks on the corset’s front. He was so familiar with the workings of women’s underclothing that it shocked her. Then she realized that she should hardly be surprised. She was in the hands of a master.
He drew the corset open, reverently baring her breasts. For a moment, he stared, feasting on the sight of her naked flesh, her nipples already beginning to harden beneath his gaze. He took one of her breasts in his hand, squeezing gently and flicking the sensitive bud with his thumb. She arched upward, and he increased the pressure, softly pinching the nipple between his forefinger and thumb until it was erect.
As he touched her, she reached out to explore his body, the surface of his tanned skin, the light patch of hair on the hard contours of his chest. She traced the lines that separated his chiseled abdominal muscles, the sinewy bulk of his arms. Even for a demon, he was beautiful, his body honed to a work of art.
His head dipped, and a groan escaped him as he closed his mouth over her breast, laved the tip with his tongue. He teased, sucked. He moved to the other breast, took its peak between his teeth, carefully stretching, elongating it, until she cried out from the intense mix of pleasure and pain.
Where Demons Fear to Tread Page 14