by Holley Trent
Chapter Three
Ariel thought she’d drive a couple hours and stop for the night, but the company was good and conversation so stimulating, she hadn’t wanted it to end — to put Hitch out. However, her bladder made her see reason, and somewhere near Albuquerque she finally had to stop. She picked a mid-range hotel that promised cable and had a restaurant on the ground floor, knowing that once she checked in, she wouldn’t want to leave again until morning.
Hitch waited beside her car as she locked up then walked her to the lobby. “Thanks for the lift, Ariel,” he said, those bright blue eyes twinkling from the parking lot lights as he heaved his knapsack onto his shoulders.
She had that feeling in her gut again. The one that said go back and fetch, and she stood there, studying him while shifting her weight from foot to foot and willing her bladder to play nice. She didn’t want to be done with him yet, and knew it was unreasonable. He was a hitchhiker. If she had good common sense, she’d let him go on his way and she’d check into a room, lock her door, and deadbolt it.
“Why don’t you let me buy you dinner? As a thank-you.”
He raised both brows. “You thank me? For what?”
“For keeping me company. Awake. This road trip stuff really wears on a girl’s sanity, and I’ve still got two days to go.”
“That’s kind of you, but you should let me buy you dinner.” He cocked a crooked grin onto one cheek. “And a tank of gas.”
“No way. My new company is reimbursing me, so don’t think you’re putting me out.”
“If you insist.”
“I do.”
They stood there lingering for another moment and Ariel squeaked. “Uh. Why don’t you wait for me in the restaurant? Order me an iced tea? I’ll meet you there after I check in.”
He nodded and strode in. Ariel wasted a moment she really couldn’t spare watching the movement of his ass beneath his loose jeans. Then she got hold of herself and made a beeline for the bathroom with her rolling suitcase.
A bit later, bladder empty and room key in hand, she found Hitch in a booth, nursing a glass of water as he stared at the television mounted over the bar. He smiled as she sat and pulled his menu closer. “You’re going to have to help me out. I can’t say I have much experience with restaurants.”
“Oh!” She nestled her suitcase in the little alcove next to the booth and pulled out the seat across from Hitch. “I don’t tend to be all that adventurous when it comes to restaurants. Everything always sounds so great, but I stick to the basics mostly.”
“Maybe we can both step outside our comfort zones a bit.” His grin widened, eyes narrowed, and suddenly things down below in Ariel’s body clenched.
She wheezed and held her menu in front of her face. “Okay. Sounds good.”
When the waitress arrived, Hitch gave the woman a winning smile and that made her cheeks flush. “What’s the best thing on the menu … ” He narrowed her eyes at her left breast, ostensibly reading her nametag. “Ella?”
She giggled. “I like the chicken-fried steak. It’ll probably kill me one day, but that gravy is so good. Comes with mashed potatoes and whatever vegetable chef picked up today.”
Hitch tapped the top of Ariel’s menu. “That sounds good, huh?”
It did. She said as much.
The waitress walked off with their menus, humming to herself. Ariel turned her attention back to Hitch. “What would you have ordered if you didn’t have her help?”
He lifted his shoulders in an elegant shrug. “Probably the chicken and dumplings.”
Ariel made a blech face.
“What? It’s great!”
“It’s not. I hate all that dough.”
“Ah. Yeah, I guess the occasional raw bit would turn you off. We didn’t have much choice but to add fillers to everything. Flour’s cheaper than chicken.”
“Wow.” She leaned back in her seat and laughed. “And I thought I was poor growing up.”
He leaned his elbows onto the tabletop and rested his chin atop his fists. “Oh yeah? Well, obviously there were a lot of kids at the compound. Barely got by and none of the ladies worked, you know.”
“It was just me and grandmother growing up. Things were tight because she was on a fixed budget and my parents never sent her anything.”
“Where were your parents?”
She felt her smile wilt and tried to replace it before he noticed, but couldn’t manage the feat. Instead, she gazed down at her utensil roll and studied the stitching on the napkin edges.
“I’m sorry, was that insensitive of me?”
She shook her head. “No, not at all. I’m just … ” When she dragged her gaze up to meet his, his expression had softened. It wasn’t exactly pitying, but there was a hint of apology in it. After sucking in some air, she continued. “People ask all the time, but answering doesn’t get any easier. I don’t know where my parents were — are. They were kinda losers, I guess. Dropped me off for a week one summer and never came back to get me. My grandmother thinks they committed some crime and fled to Mexico.”
His eyes widened a bit.
“Yeah.”
The waitress arrived with their food, bequeathed them with some extra napkins and bid them to enjoy their meal.
They ate in silence for a while, save for the occasional grunt of gastronomic pleasure, when suddenly Hitch dropped his fork and stared at his left palm. His brow furrowed as he scratched it.
“What’s wrong? Is it itchy? My grandmother used to tell me if you had itchy palms it meant money was coming your way.”
“I wish.” He chuckled as he slid out the booth. “Nah, I think it’s just a bit of a residual allergic reaction. I must have touched some detergent or something that didn’t agree with me. I’ll be right back.”
“Oh.” She watched him stand and stride toward the restrooms. When he disappeared beyond the doors, she allowed herself a little giggle.
He was a normal guy for a hitchhiker. Well, sort of. If he’d been solvent and not so damned transient, he might even be the kind of man she’d let take her out. She liked that he had a little something left to learn. Too many men knew too much about the wrong stuff and it gave them these sort of indefatigable god complexes that rendered them ridiculously selfish and excessively arrogant. She knew the type all too well working in advertising. Men like that were a dime a dozen.
She’d had one.
Hitch was practically a palate cleanser in comparison.
• • •
John leaned against the men’s room’s outer door, barring any potential patrons’ entry, though there hadn’t been any attempts. He crossed his arms over his chest and took his lecture like a man.
“John, why is this taking you so long? I sniffed her out. She should be an easy pluck for you. You should have moved on hours ago,” Gulielmus said.
“I didn’t realize I was operating on a quota system here.”
“Damn right you are. Your brother, Trucker, averages about a woman every two hours on a good night.” He paced and rubbed his smooth chin. “Maybe I should have let you shadow him for a while before I sent you out … ”
John balked. “A woman every two hours? You mean sex every two hours?”
Gulielmus gave John a long stare. He didn’t have to be a genius to parse the expression. “Doesn’t have to go that far. You just have to get them to let their guards down.” He put his hands on John’s shoulders and gave him a teeny shake. “It’s about trust. When they trust you, their souls open up and all you have to do is stick one metaphorical dirty finger in the waterfall, and they’re gone. And, then you can drain a little energy off them while you’re at it.”
“So, what is this conference? Are you assigning me a deadline or is this a play-making huddle?”
John didn’t want a deadline. H
e wanted more time to talk to Ariel — learn from her. Be warmed by her smile. His plan was to drag it out indefinitely and tag along until she cast him aside. Shouldn’t take long, the way he figured it. He was used to being cast out.
Gulielmus released John’s shoulders and sighed as he walked to the sinks. Leaning over one, he studied his alabaster skin in the mirror and patted down an errant lick of hair that had escaped his ponytail. “No, I’m not giving you deadline. I’m just telling you to be cautious of your time management. The more time you spend with them, the more likely you’ll become attached.” He stopped patting his hair and cut his gaze toward his son. “You don’t want to become attached.”
“Why not?”
“Because you incubus cambions are weird and unpredictable. Sometimes it’s not a big deal if you like someone a lot. Other times, you can become infatuated. Crazed. They become obsessions. Quarry, even.”
“That doesn’t sound good.” John shifted his weight and studied the toes of his boots. Did he feel obsessed? Didn’t seem like it, but would he know if he was?
“Seriously.” Gulielmus leaned his butt against the sink edge and narrowed his eyes. “I’ve had to put one of my children out of his misery because of it before. I wouldn’t want to have to do that to you.”
John gulped. Jeez. “I see.” He may not have been particularly ambitious, but his sense of self-preservation was pretty damn well-calibrated. He valued his life. Wanted to keep it a little while longer. How long did cambions live, anyway? He should probably find out.
Gulielmus straightened up and extended his hand.
This time John knew the drill. His put his hand in his father’s, palm up.
“Good. It took,” the demon said, dropping the hand.
John studied his palm and didn’t see anything unusual about it. Just the usual lines and calluses. “Why wouldn’t it?”
With a gallant shrug, Gulielmus extracted a wallet from his slacks pocket. He leafed through the billfold and pinched out some currency.
John took it without counting it.
“I’ve got to go check on one of your sisters. She’s in rehab again. Call me if you need me.” Gulielmus vanished without so much as a finger-snap.
John blew out a breath and wrapped his fingers around the door handle, idling there for a while as he pulled his thoughts together. Time to go secure the soul of the pretty lady.
He kept repeating it to himself like a mantra, ready to use his demonic charms on her to put her where he wanted her — assuming he could figure out the magic — but when returned to the table and found she’d freed that dark brown hair from its ponytail so it shrouded her shoulders and framed her face, he forgot what his mission was.
She’d paid the check and their plates had been cleared.
She twiddled her thumbs as she looked up at him. “Where are you sleeping tonight, Hitch?”
“Where am I sleeping?” Suddenly, his mind went blank as if all the information he’d downloaded in his twenty-eight years had become corrupted and self-terminated. He was pretty sure Gulielmus had prepped him for this sort of thing. “Um … ”
Lie, he imagined his father would say.
He pulled his knapsack out from under the table and heaved it up onto his shoulders. “I’ll hang out at the bus station and see what they have going east, probably. They don’t pay too much attention to stragglers.”
“Oh.”
She swallowed hard and cast a gaze down his body. When she met his eyes again, she pulled her plump bottom lip between her teeth and bit it.
He raised a brow in question.
“This is probably really stupid of me … ” she said, letting her voice linger off at the end.
“What is?”
“Do you … want to go upstairs?” She flitted her gaze toward the hotel lobby as if he couldn’t intuit her meaning without the visual aid.
“You mean me get a room?”
She shook her head and slowly eased out of the booth, grazing the front of her body against his as she reached for the handle of her suitcase.
He closed his eyes and curled his toes in her boots, willing his body not to respond to her softness — her sweet, citrus scent.
“No, I mean you come visit me.”
The blood drained from his head.
Keep it together, man. Your daddy is an incubus. You’ve got cool encoded in your DNA.
When he didn’t answer immediately, her cheeks reddened. “Never mind, it’s stupid.” She pulled her suitcase toward the lobby. “You must think I’m nuts. Just ignore me.”
He jogged to catch up. “No, wait. I don’t think you’re nuts. I think you’re stunning, so sometimes I stare at you and my sensors get all confused.”
She stopped in front of the elevators and stabbed the Up button. She didn’t look like she bought it. “Oh yeah? What are your sensors saying?”
“Mostly they’re saying you’re a nice lady and I’m trash and I should leave you alone.” True enough, he figured.
The elevator door opened and she stepped in, giving him a speculative look as she leaned against the back railing. When he didn’t move, she made a “come here” gesture with her hands. He slipped in just before the doors slid shut.
They didn’t talk, but he itched to ask if doing this sort of thing was normal for her, or if she was still affected by that psychic lasso he’d tossed around her earlier. Neither sounded great right then, but he wasn’t so conceited to think that he was just that good looking and that charming that she’d invite him into her inner sanctum for … Well, for what, exactly? Wasn’t he supposed to be the one doing the leading?
Upstairs, he followed her down the hall and watched her slip a card into a slot installed on her room’s door.
“That’s pretty fancy,” he said.
She pushed the door handle down and idled in the opening for a moment, studying the small piece of plastic. “Huh. I guess it would be for someone who’s used to metal keys.” She held it out to him. “Want to try it?”
Before “Yes!” could fall out of his mouth, he squashed his childish wonderment and spread a grin onto his face. Now wasn’t the time for dorkiness. “Maybe later.”
She shrugged and pulled her bag into the room.
He followed, letting the door swing closed on its own behind him.
She made a beeline for a luggage rack and set her suitcase on top, already winding the zipper pull around to open it.
He set his backpack on the floor and moved further into the room, studying the cream-colored walls decorated with soft, pastel watercolor paintings, the ornate dresser — the drawers of which he pulled open to assess what treasures they held — the desk in the corner, covered with a binder full of menus and local business information, and finally, the one large bed in the middle of the room.
It was bigger than any bed he’d ever seen. His mother’s “husband” didn’t even have a bed that large, not that he needed it. The only time that useless piece of shit slept in his own bed was when he was ill. The rest of the nights, he played musical beds.
“You could probably fit four of me on this bed,” John said, perching on the edge of it while Ariel extracted a toiletry case from her bag.
“One of you at a time is probably enough,” she said with a giggle as she set the case on the dresser top. She unzipped it and rummaged through the contents. “Hmm.”
“Hmm what?”
“I guess it’s been a while. Shouldn’t be surprised I don’t have any.”
“Any what?”
“Condoms.”
His jaw fell slack. “Condoms?”
“Yes.” She performed a slow nod and leaned her backside against the dresser, pushing her lips up into a smirk. “Condoms. Familiar with those? Ancient concept.”
That made him laugh. “
I’m probably familiar with a lot of things I shouldn’t be, although I can’t say I have any personal experience with those.”
Her smirk snapped in as if she’d released the tension on a rubber band. He’d stunned her.
“You’re a virgin.”
He raised his shoulders. He wasn’t exactly ashamed of it, and it wasn’t that he’d tried to be chaste all those years. If it’d been up to him, he would have been sowing his oats for years. Still …
“Virgin doesn’t necessarily mean inexperienced.”
The expression on her face suggested rather plainly that she didn’t believe him.
He waved her forward. “Come here.”
“Why?”
“Come on,” he crooned. “You picked up a hitchhiker but now you’re suddenly apprehensive?” He made that come here gesture with his hands just as she had earlier, and this time she took the few steps forward to bridge the gap between them. He rewarded her for it by pressing his hands against her belly and sliding them up to her fabric-covered breasts, mounding them beneath his hands and squeezing just until she sucked in a breath.
“You know … ” He grazed his thumbs over her protruding nipples and pressed them in.
She pressed her body closer into the open V of his legs, bracing her thighs against his swelling arousal.
“We don’t have to get naked to have fun.”
She shuddered as he dipped one hand into the warmth of her shorts and tickled the front of her panties. So hot and already so moist. His self-control was exceptional, but he began, suddenly, to feel that perhaps this engagement in foreplay would have them going too far.
He scoffed at the thought. What did it matter to him? He was half-incubus. One part of him more than anything wanted to reach out to that basest part of her existence and suck the well dry — to take from her everything that was carnal and sensual and leave nothing there for anyone else. To take the very point of life from her.
The other part of him said, “This is a lovely, intelligent woman who just wants to be touched. She doesn’t deserve Hell for that.”