by Allie Gail
Almost.
“So you're saying demons have physical bodies?” This is news to me.
“Oh, yes. They are imprisoned in that realm in shells of their mortal forms. But it is sometimes possible to leave those trappings behind and travel beyond the barrier.”
“So that's why demons take possession of the living,” I muse. “It's like astral projection in a way, isn't it? They can roam, but they can't bring their bodies with them. Is that pretty much it?”
“Exactly. For now, that is.”
My eyes widen, and I turn around to look up at him warily. “What do you mean, for now?”
“The prisoners of Hell are constantly waging war upon Heaven, in an effort to bring down the barrier. It's never happened, of course – Heaven's army is strong – but the soldiers of Lucifer will never back down. They have all the time in the world and nothing to lose, you see. Nothing to lose and only freedom to gain.”
“Could something like that happen?” The prospect isn't exactly a pleasant one. A swarm of foul, corrupt souls invading the living...anarchy is what comes to mind. The world would descend into madness. Complete chaos. Because how do you kill something that's already dead? Say you destroy the body. Wouldn't the soul just hijack another, repeating the process as necessary? Over and over and over, in a vicious cycle.
How do you even begin to fight something like that?
Come to think of it, would there even be enough bodies to accommodate all those lost souls? Something tells me, no.
“Think about it. Has it ever happened before? No,” Loc assures me, answering his own question. “Of course not. The likelihood is remote at best. Believe me, that's the last thing you should be worried about. Hell's army consists of malcontents and ignorant, lowlife criminals. All of them selfish, all of them constantly turning on one another. It's like trying to herd rats. You can't mold warriors out of vermin. It simply cannot be done.”
That's a little reassuring, I guess. Although I can't help but recall the pride in his voice the first time he revealed his father's name.
My father is Leraje, one of the commanders of Hell's great army.
Was he bluffing then? I have to assume so. Because he's right – it doesn't seem possible to amass a powerful army when all you have is thieves and murderers to work with. A commander is only as great as his soldiers.
“If it's never going to happen, then why did you make a point of saying for now?”
“The future isn't written in stone, my dear.” Smiling patiently, he trails a finger down my cheek, then uses it to tilt my chin up. “Just because something isn't likely to happen, doesn't mean the possibility doesn't exist.”
“Gee, that's comforting.”
“If it makes you feel any better, the odds are about on par with your brother donning an elf suit and escorting me to the town's annual Christmas tree lighting.”
I giggle at the thought of Russ in an elf suit. I think it's the curly-toed shoes that get me. “Thanks. I really needed that image stuck in my head. Now I feel so much better.”
“Speaking of feeling better...” Eyes gleaming wickedly, he pulls the baseball shirt over my head and drops it to the floor. “...what do you say we get a head start on that right now?”
If I weren't presently in the company of a demon, I'd swear I must be in Heaven.
Where we really are is the massive whirlpool tub. If you ask me, that's close enough.
A sea of blue drifts above us, shimmering through the skylight. Loc has me trapped between his splayed legs, my head reclined against his chest. Fragrant, sudsy water laps against us as he massages my breasts with soapy hands. It feels divine. I'm so relaxed I'm literally melting into the water, all warm and fluid. His touch works like a sedative. A siren's sweet call, pulling me deep into the depths of some irresistible place I wonder if I'll ever have the strength to escape.
I close my eyes and snuggle into him blissfully. It's hard to imagine wanting to escape.
“Tell me something,” he murmurs from behind.
“Hmm?”
“It's just something I've always wondered about.”
“Mm-kay.”
“You've been in love before, haven't you?”
My eyes fly open. It was such an unexpected question, for a moment I am struck dumb. Did I even hear him right? I wet my lips nervously, my mind racing, wondering what I'm supposed to say. What he expects me to say.
I play it off as a joke. “Sure. Hundreds of times.”
Without missing a beat, he urges in all sincerity, “Explain it to me.”
Explain it?
Explain what? Relationships? Love in general? He's gonna have to be a little more specific here. “I'm not really sure what you're asking.” That's an understatement. Where is he going with this anyway?
“The concept. The whole idea. I've never understood it. I would appreciate it if you would explain it to me.”
“You're asking me to define love?” I ask incredulously.
“More or less.” He hesitates, and I feel rather than see when he shakes his head. “Well, no...I'm aware of the definition of the word. What I want to know is the reasoning behind it. Why people experience such a useless emotion. As in, what is the point?”
I crane my neck to look up at him. “You can't be serious.”
“Of course I'm serious.” He sounds insulted that I would even suggest otherwise.
“You want to know why people love? Is that what you're asking?”
“That's precisely what I'm asking, yes.”
“Uhh...”
“The whole process just seems so counterproductive,” he continues. “Masochistic, in a way. To forgo your own wants and desires for another person – it's bizarre. I've never been able to grasp the purpose behind it. Why sacrifice, why waste your time and energy caring about someone other than yourself? Ultimately, what's in it for you?”
“What's in it for me?” Holy shit, I don't even know how to respond to that. He's saying he views love as nothing but a waste of time? A waste of time? This is a level of narcissism I can't even begin to comprehend.
“Yes. Tell me, what can you expect to get out of it?”
Damn. I mean...damn.
I have to ponder this one for a minute. It's a question I've never been asked, never even considered. I feel as if I've just been recruited to explain the meaning of life to an inquisitive five-year-old.
Because in a way, he's not much different. In the respect that he truly doesn't seem to know or conceive the logic behind something as simple as love.
But is it simple, really?
“All right...” I tentatively begin. “Well, let's start with this. Haven't you ever cared about the feelings of someone else? Like...I don't know, your father, for instance.”
“My father?” he snorts. “Feelings?”
“Okay. Scratch that, maybe it was a bad example. I'm assuming you've had friends before. Right? Girlfriends, lovers, whatever. Haven't you ever had the urge to do something nice for them for no particular reason?”
“No. Why should I?”
“You know. To make them happy.”
“Why would I give two shits about someone else's happiness?”
“Wow.” This would almost be funny if it wasn't so...wow.
Disturbing is the word that comes to mind.
“I'm just being honest here.”
“I know you are.” That's what's so disturbing!
“Make me understand, Jude. Your paramedic, for instance. The way you look at him. Is that love or merely sexual attraction?”
“Um. I don't know.” Oh man, I am really not comfortable discussing Max with him. It seems disloyal. Even though there's never been anything between us (well, nothing that wasn't one-sided anyway), I don't feel right about it. To do so would be to invite a comparison. And how can I even start to compare the two?
It would be like trying to forge a similarity between midnight and daybreak. They're both beautiful, both heart-stirring, yes. But in profou
ndly different ways.
“You don't know?” The skepticism in his voice is hard to miss.
“No, I don't know. We haven't spent enough time together for me to figure out exactly what...um, whether or not we're compatible and all that,” I stammer. “You know.”
“No, I don't know,” he replies in a voice as smooth as butter. “That's why I asked.”
“I think we're getting off track here.”
“I'm still waiting to be enlightened. You seem thoroughly appalled that I don't believe in the concept of love. Make a believer out of me.”
“I don't know how I'm supposed to do that.”
“Illustrate it. In a way that makes sense. That's all I'm asking.”
What does he expect me to do, draw a picture? “It's...ah, it's caring more about someone else than you do yourself. Having their best interests at heart,” I rationalize lamely. What does he want from me? I'm not sure love is something that can even be explained.
“Again, that is merely a description of the word. Which doesn't tell me anything. It doesn't tell me why a person would choose to feel that way.”
“Well, that's the thing. Sometimes it isn't a choice.”
“Oh, don't give me that. Not a choice? You're telling me humans have no control over their own emotions? I don't buy it. The entire population would be running amok if that were the case.”
“Fine!” I'm beginning to see why I never majored in education. I suck at this, big time. “It's...I don't know. Wanting to spend time with a person that you enjoy being around.”
“When I was eight years old, I very much enjoyed going to the zoo,” he remarks glibly. “But I don't recall being particularly interested in the feelings of the ocelots.”
“I said a person, smartass! Not a place. You're getting this all twisted around.”
“You're not doing a very good job of clearing it up.”
“All right, all right. Hang on a minute, let me think.” Sighing, I mull over my interpretation before giving it one last shot. “How about this. Why are you doing this?” I bring my hands up and place them over his, where they are still covering my breasts.
He sounds amused when he answers, “Because you seem to like it.”
“Okay. Very good, now we're getting somewhere. And why would you care whether or not I like it?”
“Because I enjoy watching you become sexually aroused.”
And you're damn good at it, too. Just sayin'.
“But why do you enjoy it?” I persist. “I'm the one experiencing the pleasure – you're not getting anything out of it.”
“Oh, but I am.” Without even looking, I can tell that he's smiling. “Or I will be.”
“You're missing the point. What difference does it make whether or not I'm enjoying the experience? I could just lie here like a limp dishrag and you could still have your way with me and get the same end result. Right?”
“Wrong,” he objects. “It wouldn't be the same.”
“And why wouldn't it be the same?” I prompt.
“Well, now you're just being obtuse.”
“No, I'm serious. Come on, help me out here. Think. Why wouldn't it be as good?”
“Simple. Necrophilia isn't my cup of tea, dearest.”
“I'm being obtuse?” Sighing in frustration, I roll my eyes. “Really – I'm the one being obtuse?”
“Well, what do you want me to say?”
“Don't say anything! Just stop for a minute and think about it. When you do things for another person just to make them feel good...that's kind of what I'm talking about. That's what love is like. I'm sorry, but it's the best analogy I can come up with. I don't know how to make it any clearer.”
Loc grows quiet, so I'm hoping I've somehow managed to get through to him. Enough to sate his curiosity, anyhow. He continues leisurely caressing my body, and I relax against him once more. Ahh, that feels good.
“I suppose I never thought of it like that,” he finally concedes. “So what you're saying is, you derive personal gratification from the pleasure of others.”
“Yes!” I almost shout, relieved. “Exactly. Now you're getting it.”
“Then doesn't that make love just another form of selfishness?”
I should've known my triumph would be short-lived.
Pursing my lips, I turn my head to glare at him in exasperation. “Are you fucking with me?”
“Possibly just a bit.” He grins mischievously.
“You're a lunatic. A certifiable lunatic! Do you know that?”
“Yes, but I enjoy being a lunatic, so shouldn't you be happy for me?”
“Oh, you...” Laughing, I elbow him in his ridiculously perfect abs.
“Watch it, darling,” he chuckles. “Getting dangerously close to the naughty bits.”
“You're lucky I don't twist off your naughty bits and put them up on eBay. Packaging and free shipping included.”
“You're planning on packaging my package?”
“Yep. With a big red bow.”
“I really wish you wouldn't. I know a certain young lady who has expressed a reverent fondness for the aforementioned naughty bits.”
“Oh? Maybe you should look her up.”
“Maybe I should fuck her into submission. Seeing how she's been threatening me with grievous bodily harm. What do you think?”
“I think I've heard worse ideas.” Smiling to myself, I wiggle my backside against his unyielding erection.
“Careful, love,” he warns me through a groan. “I'll be claiming that sweet little ass of yours next.”
“Ha! That's what you think. Pardon me, but I don't recall back door stuff being part of the deal.”
“No? Hmm. I could just take it, you know.”
“I thought you said you weren't into necrophilia? 'Cause that's the only way it's ever happening, pal!”
“You can unclench your bum cheeks, darling. I was only teasing.” Eyes gleaming wickedly, he reaches over to pat the edge of the tub. “I have a better idea. Why don't you park your pretty little bottom right up here for me?”
I think I have a pretty good idea where he's going with this, and the prospect sends a thrill of panic and excitement surging through me.
Water runs down me in sparkling rivulets as I rise and make myself comfortable on the edge of the tub. My thighs are glued together so tightly he'll need a jackhammer to disengage them. I can't help it, I'm nervous! No one's ever gotten that up-close-and-personal with me before. I've never even been to a gynecologist. Not being sexually active, there never seemed a need.
“Like this?” I blink at him, trying my best to appear coy. I'm hoping my inexperience isn't blatantly obvious. I mean, of course he's fully aware of all that, but I still don't want to come off as awkward. Awkward isn't confident. Awkward isn't sexy.
“I think we can do better than that.” Lifting a wry brow, he gently pries my knees apart.
I bite my lip, and I'm positive my cheeks are turning the same shade of pink as the part of me he's currently fixated on.
Holy mother of Mercury, he looks as if he wants to eat me alive!
Barely breathing, I watch in fascination as he moves in for the kill, and then...
A snakelike flick of his tongue.
Gasping at the odd sensation, I jump reflexively. He laughs at my skittishness, and I grin sheepishly.
Way to go, vixen. That was uber sexy.
“Relax, love. I'm not going to bite you.” His electric eyes flash with amusement.
“Yeah? Says you.” Relax? Is he kidding? How am I supposed to relax with his face buried between my legs! I can't believe I'm letting him do this. I've never felt so exposed in my life. I mean, intimacy can only go so far, right? And this, it just seems so-
Oh-h.
Oh, my.
You know what? Never mind.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Want to get out of here for a while?”
I look up from my travel bag, where I'm scroungin
g around in search of a pair of socks. Loc's impromptu suggestion has taken me by surprise. I guess I figured he had me here for sex and not much else. Certainly not a night out.
“What did you have in mind?” After the whole creepy carnival trek, I can't help being wary of his intentions.
“Dinner in town maybe?” He buttons his shirt as he talks, and my eyes stray to the long fingers moving over white silk. He has such nice hands. I never knew that hands could be erotic, but I've been schooled in much in a very short time. “I don't know about you, but I could do with a nice thick steak. Why don't we head into town and find someone to toss a steer on the grill?”
Oh. Well, dinner out sounds harmless enough, I suppose. “Sure. Sounds like fun.”
“We'll give Thaddeus the night off.”
Who? Ah, right...Thaddeus. The chef staying in the guest house. I'd almost forgotten about him. I hope I get to meet him at some point. It would be nice to have visual confirmation that I'm not the only human in the vicinity.
“We're not going anywhere fancy, are we?” I gaze dubiously at the meager contents of my bag. It's not like I came prepared for Osteria Francescana.
“It's a tourist town. Casual is fine.”
He looks anything but casual in his neatly pressed slacks and immaculate white shirt. Of course, he could probably throw on a torn gunny sack and stand head and shoulders as the most elegant man in the room.
Except he isn't a man, so he has an unfair advantage, now doesn't he?
Half an hour later we're on our way, this time in a black Range Rover. I don't know what became of the limo. Actually, now that I think about it, the SUV is probably better equipped for driving in the snow since it has chains on the tires. Silas is once again behind the wheel, much to my chagrin. Can't we go anywhere without the bogeyman as a chaperon? His creep factor hasn't lessened one bit. I have yet to hear the guy utter a single word, and that alone is enough to give a person the heebie-jeebies. That, and the ever-present dark shades that hide his eyes.
“Don't you know how to drive?” I can't help muttering to Loc.
“Yes,” he murmurs back. “Why do you ask?”
My eyes shift pointedly to our chauffeur.