Hell's Chapel (Shapeshifter Urban Fantasy) (Caith Morningstar Book 1)

by Celia Kyle

  She just wouldn’t say the words aloud. On High could be pissy.

  The TV played some random late-night show, the host being zany, the guests fake as hell, and the musical guests lip-syncing with the best of them. Which meant she could pretend to watch while actually staring at Sam on the sly.

  Except, when she looked at him from the corner of her eye, it was to find him outright staring at her. All righty then.

  Caith decided that if he could focus on her, she could return the favor. She wiggled around, shifting until she sat sideways on the loveseat, back resting against the arm and one knee resting on the smooth surface. She dug in and slid an ice cream caked spoon between her lips, moaning at the sugary sweetness. Sam’s eyes darkened, the pale blue transforming to a deep navy.

  “Caith,” he wheezed.

  “Wha’?” She opened her eyes wide, feigning an innocence she’d never had.

  She thumped her shoe against the seat again, the movement subconscious, but it snared his attention.

  Sam set his empty carton and spoon aside and then turned back to her. “C’mere. Gimme.”

  She furrowed her brow, tugging the utensil free. “Huh?”

  He didn’t answer, simply snagged one pant leg and then the other, tugging her feet onto the furniture. Hell, onto his lap.

  “Ew, Sam.” She wrinkled her nose. Stinky feet were a regular occurrence in the Morningstar household.

  “Hush,” he murmured, his attention not straying from the maze of laces and hooks that kept her boots in place. Deft fingers released the knots, aged ties coming undone with ease and before she knew it, Sam slid first one boot and then the other from her feet.

  She sighed in relief. After a long day, there was nothing more heavenly (heh) than tugging off her boots and stretching her toes. Now Sam had half of that chore handled. And then some. Because then the socks were gone and after that… oh, wait, she had discovered heaven and it came in the form of Sam’s magic hands.

  “Oh…” she moaned. “Right there.”

  That drew a chuckle from the gel and Caith couldn’t find the energy to be annoyed at his laughter. Nope, especially not when he dug his knuckle into her arch and…

  “Don’t stop,” she groaned.

  “Never.”

  She let her eyes drift closed, body relaxing as Sam stroked and massaged her feet, fingers kneading her tense muscles. His hands glided over her skin, poking and prodding areas that had her whining and moaning as the knots released.

  “That’s it.” She sighed. “I need you to be here every day. I can forgive your goody-goody tendencies as long as you do this.”

  “Uh-huh. What do I get to forgive your die-everyone-die desires?”

  Caith snorted. “I only have a handful of people on my hit list at the moment. You make it sound as if I’m Uncle Luc.”

  “Not an answer.”

  She forced her eyes open and quirked a brow. Her answer tumbled out before she had a chance to think the words through. “I am the best cocksucker south of the Mason-Dixon.” She was sure she could hear a pin drop because those few words brought them back around to their great big problem. Caith coughed and cleared her throat. “Sorry.” She struggled against his gentle hold. “Never mind.”

  “Nope, you’re not getting away that easily.” He held her fast. In fact, he yanked her closer, manhandling her and repositioning her as he desired until she straddled his lap.

  “This is getting to be a habit.” Her wolf howled in approval, loving being this close to him.

  “We need to get past this.” His eyes were too intent, his gaze searching her features and she turned her head, afraid of what he’d find.

  “I’m good. Nothing to get past.”

  “On High doesn’t like liars.” His lips turned up into a seductive grin.

  “Good thing On High already hates me,” she shot back. Caith knew the truth even if Sam refused to open his eyes. “The Morningstars are the shit on On High’s boots, Sam. I don’t know why he gave you cash to use or why he’s letting you take time to explore this. The fact remains I’m a demon—”

  “Half.”

  “—and you’re a gel. A full gel.” She dared him to disagree.

  Sam shrugged. “I’m not gonna question him on this one. He’s giving me a vacation and I’m going to take it. Period.”

  Caith leaned forward, resting her forehead against his. The position soothed her, calmed the wolf and allowed her to just breathe. “I’ll be honest, I don’t know how this is gonna work, but I don’t wanna let you go.”

  “I figure this relationship is like any other.”

  “And you came to this conclusion how?”

  He brushed his lips across hers and she fought the urge to simply tackle him and go at him like a cheesecake. “Compromise.”

  “Huh?”

  “What did you plan on doing with that human from two weeks ago?”

  Caith winced. “That depends on how you’ll feel when I tell you. Hypothetically, conjecture-ly, he’d be feeding Francois and the girls though the femur sometimes gets caught in Franky’s throat and I gotta chop that bit—”

  Sam pressed a finger to her lips, quieting her. “And I’m supposed to leave him be and let him get sorted out after he dies in fifty or so years. Instead, I handed him off and made the vamp promise not to permanently injure or kill him.”

  “That’s a lot of leeway considering vamps don’t feel like vamp-dom is dead, but if you ask the witch doctor on fifty-third—”

  “We’re not talking about the witch doctor. We’re talking about you, me, and compromise.”

  “Compromise?” She wasn’t sure it was a word in her dictionary.

  “Yes, you let me have my goody-two-shoes way sometimes and other times I’ll let you destroy to your heart’s content.”

  Caith nibbled her lower lip. “I gotta think about this. We need a guide. Like, are zombies fair game? What about the green-eyed vamps? Or regular vamps? Then there’s the traffic cop who patrols outside the bar. That guy is cruising for a destroying.”

  That last bit got her the smile she’d been hunting. “That was a reach there.”

  “Girl’s gotta work with what she’s got.” She grinned.

  “Uh-huh.” He leaned forward, giving her another of those sweet kisses. She had to admit that while the nearly chaste brushes left her frustrated, they were also tender and touching. They weren’t a rush to the finish line like she was familiar with.

  “Are we gonna have clear guidelines though? Like, I get hell demons and you get fairies?”

  Sam jerked away. “How come you get hell demons? Maybe they need a little forgiveness.”

  Caith snorted. “Hell demons? Ha! They’d rip your head off for even saying that.” She patted his chest. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

  “By what? Glaring at them?”

  “You know I’m a badass. Don’t be a hater.”

  “I still think I get hell demons.” He squeezed her hips, reminding her that his hands still stroked her body. “You can have fairies.”

  She reared back, disgust filling her. “What the hell am I gonna do with fairies. They whine when you try and burn their wings.”

  “Aw, come on. Don’t tell me you tried to—”

  “I was three.” She rolled her eyes. “And I didn’t have a magnifying glass, I had hellfire. And their wings were so…” she shuddered, “fluttery.”

  “On High, help me,” he murmured. “How about we agree to leave our respective homeland residents alone and we’ll negotiate the tweens. I get final say on humans.”

  What he said made sense yet… “I get the big, non-vegetative tweens. The leaf bearing peeps tend to be passive.”

  “You don’t think I should take the big ones?”

  Caith pressed her lips together. “Why? You don’t think I can handle myself? Because I can so shove my sword so far up your—”

  “Anybody home?” The loud vo
ice boomed through the house and Caith groaned. “I brought pizza, Caith!”

  That had her groaning again.

  Sam growled, his hands digging into her hips and his arms tensed as if he were about to push her from his lap and destroy the newcomer. That so wasn’t happening. She’d finally found help, she wasn’t about to lose them over a growly angel.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and yanked him toward her, plastering her lips to his in a deep, passionate kiss. It was filled with tongue and teeth, moans and groans, and shifts and rubs. His cock was hard and hot against her pussy, leather separating them and keeping her from taking and claiming him. But… She wouldn’t do that without his permission or a loudly screamed “bite me, baby.”

  So she remained tangled with him, her nipples pebbling and hardening, quietly begging to be stroked and plucked. He’d nibble and suck the nubs, make her scream and writhe for him…

  The heavy thump of combat boots on marble flooring reached her and it definitely reached Sam because he tore his mouth from hers. And the second the kiss ended, he was back to growling.

  “What’s he doing here?”

  The seductive scent of fresh pizza, extra cheese, extra pepperoni, reached her, calling to her stomach. Damn, the man knew how to order a pizza. Her tummy growled, the beast echoing the sound, and saliva pooled in her mouth. She hadn’t eaten anything substantial all day and—

  “I live here,” Bergamot mumbled around what had to be a mouthful of pizza.

  So. Jealous.

  “You—” Sam snarled as he pushed her from his lap. He at least shoved her aside rather than tilting her backward. She should be thankful for that, right?

  “Yeah, dude. Want a slice?”

  Caith flipped her hair from her eyes and finally surveyed the two men. Sam was all indignant angel and Bergamot was… Bergamot. The man was as sweet as the day was long, but tended to be oblivious to undercurrents. He was very much a “say what you mean” kind of guy. Which she liked. Good or bad, she knew where she stood with the brownie.

  Sam now glared at the droopy slice of pizza Bergamot held out for him and then that glacial stare swayed to the brownie. “No, I don’t want a slice. I want to know why you’re in my girl—in Caith’s house.”

  Aw, he almost called her his girlfriend. Which was cute. And touching since no man had ever… In hundreds of years…

  “I live here.” Berg shrugged and focused on Caith. He switched targets, urging the piece toward her. “Want it?”

  She spared a glance for Sam and decided to ignore the man’s glare. “Sure.”

  The crust was still hot, the cheese still melted and gooey. Heaven in the tween now rested in her hand. She folded it in half and took a massive bite, filling her mouth with the hot wonderfulness.

  Caith closed her eyes and released a moan. “Damn, that’s good.”

  “Caith,” Sam snapped. She should probably pay attention. Soon even.

  After one more bite.

  “Caith.”

  “Wha’?” she mumbled.

  “What is he doing in your house?” If Sam were a demon, his eyes would be sparkling red and fire would have coated his skin.

  Instead, he just looked like a really angry man.

  “Live here, man.” Berg’s words were equally mumbled and those three syllables had Sam twitching and tensing.

  Oh, that expression did not look good. She swallowed hard, pushing the remainder of her bite down her throat and slid into the small space between Sam and Berg.

  “Sam, you remember Bergamot? You arranged for his family to work for me, remember?”

  “Yeah,” another mumble from Berg. “Thanks for that, man.”

  Caith spun toward Bergamot. “Berg, take the pizza to the kitchen. We’ll be there in a sec.”

  The half-brownie’s face fell. “No Kung-fu theater tonight? I thought we were gonna watch—”

  Sam was tense as a tree behind her, his violence barely suppressed. “No, maybe tomorrow night. Lemme just… Go away, Berg.”

  “Where—”

  “Go. Away.” She glared. Men were so very dense sometimes.

  “Fine,” Berg grumbled.

  The second Bergamot was out of sight, she spun toward Sam.

  “I want him. I’m judging his brownie ass,” Sam growled.

  “No,” she shook her head. “I got the big ones, remember. He’s big.”

  “Brownies are small. Makes him mine.”

  “But he’s a big brownie. That puts him back in my arena.”

  More growling and she really shouldn’t be turned on by his aggression. “He won’t be anywhere near you if he’s smart.”

  Ignoring the bits of pizza residue on her hands, she laid her palms against his chest. “He’s one of my brownies, Sam. You hired the family.”

  “Is he living here with you?” He took a deep breath.

  “You know where brownies live.” Everyone knew brownies lived with their employers.

  Except when they randomly disappeared like Dead Nettle’s crew. As soon as she got her hands on those guys…

  “I don’t want him here.” The words were sharp and fierce and she… did not give a flying fuck.

  “I’m glad compromising is working already,” she drawled and ignored his fiery glare. “Seriously, Sam. You hired the family and he’s an okay kid. He does a good job at the bar and doesn’t cause trouble here at home. Honestly, I love Blooming’s whole family.”

  “You better not love him,” he grumbled.

  Caith basked in this new feeling for a moment. A man was jealous. Over her. She needed a plaque engraved to commemorate the moment.

  “Compromise, Sam.”

  “Fine,” he huffed. “I’ll let you kill the next human if you let me take out the overgrown brownie. That’s fair.”

  Caith had to admit, it was very, very tempting…

  Chapter Seventeen

  The next morning they held hands as they meandered their way around Caith’s manmade lake. Francois had spent many happy afternoons sunbathing on the banks and swimming in its depths. Today, turtles broke the surface, taking breaths before diving deep once again. A handful of fish rustled the smooth water, chasing prey or popping out to snatch a bug. It hadn’t just been a home for Franky, it’d been Caith’s sanctuary as well. It gave her a place to think, to get her damn evil impulses under control as she thought about her days.

  Silence hovered between them, the tension in Sam unmistakable. He was still pissed that she hadn’t let him kick Berg’s ass. Nor had she let him banish the brownie from the house.

  She bumped her shoulder against him. “Gonna stay mad all day?”

  “All century,” he grumped.

  “Naw, you like me too much.” She tilted her head back and smiled.

  “Maybe,” he huffed. “One black eye. One.”

  She chuckled. “No. Can’t do it. My other brownies ran off and I need them. Besides, you hired them for me, remember?”

  “Didn’t know they’d bring a giant, hot guy with them,” he grumbled.

  “You think he’s hot?” Caith waggled her eyebrows. “Does that mean I get to see a little man on man action?” She winked. “Kinky.”

  “No, it was an observation. I get hard for one person,” he tugged and pulled her against him. Like always, her body molded to his, finding home amongst the hard planes of his body. “And that person is you.” Sam lowered his head, brushing his lips across hers in a soft, gentle kiss. “It will only ever be you.”

  She hummed and let her eyes drift closed. “Good. I’d hate to hafta kill someone.”

  Another kiss, a nibble of her lower lip. “On High doesn’t like you killing people.”

  “Good thing Uncle Luc encourages it then.”

  He merely shook his head and released her. “C’mon. Show me your land.”

  Her land. It was something she was proud of. Over the centuries, she’d always attempted to make a true home
for herself, one that she could lovingly care for, and she’d finally done it.

  She had a home. She wasn’t being shuttled off from papa to papa or being run off with fire and pitchforks any longer.

  Home.

  Caith repeated some of her story about Franky and his time with her, how she’d decided to turn her home into a small sanctuary for orphaned and injured gators by making her own lake.

  “I put in a slab over here so I could sit and watch.” She pointed to the large square of concrete near the bank.

  “Not a bench?”

  “No, you know I like to sit and cuddle. They can’t crawl onto a bench.” The “duh” was implied.

  “Caith, they’re dangerous animals.” His worry was unmistakable.

  How cute.

  “I’m more dangerous than they are.” She rolled her eyes.

  “Caith…” More concern.

  “Tell me, your Angel of Destruction gig, it’s dangerous, right? I mean, you’re a gel so it’s not like you actually die because you just get sent back to On High, but you can get hurt?” She glanced at him, eyebrows raised.

  “Of course. Things can happen no matter how much you plan.”

  “Right, well, same thing. My body may die, but it’s not like Uncle Luc won’t send me back. So even if one of them turns me into a snack, it’s all good.” Maybe. She hadn’t actually pushed Uncle Luc on that aspect of their agreement. She kinda assumed she’d only have to stay if she voluntarily visited Hell. It was something she’d have to ask him. Soon. Especially since the green-eyed baddies hadn’t been found.

  “I still don’t like it.”

  She shrugged and stepped back, leading him toward the slab. “You’ll see. They’re sweet once they quit trying to eat everything in sight. Some of them are missing a leg or an eye. Humans…” She fought the tears in her eyes. Demons didn’t cry, right? “Humans can be so cruel. The tween acts as if dems are the enemy, right? You should see them tremble when I speak to them, Sam. They come to the bar but stay away from me. Sure, it’s a place they can be themselves, but they don’t want to have anything to do with me. But the humans…” She shook her head, refusing to look at him. “They’re the monsters. Dems don’t take up pitchforks or fire or come after a helpless animal with a hatchet.”