Pride and Pleasure

by Sylvia Day

  For the first time since waking up in this place, a sensation akin to panic constricted his chest. He forced himself to ignore the feeling, chanting over and over in his head that there was a reasonable explanation for all of this.

  “Just go to a bar here,” he muttered to himself. “Have a stiff drink here—and relax.”

  Things were bound to make sense if he just calmed down. How could he expect to think clearly surrounded by floral chaos?

  Just then the “cat” from this morning leapt up onto the recliner, the springs creaking under its massive bulk. It peered at him from its one good eye, then hissed.

  “Yeah. I’m outta here.”

  He left the living room striding toward a door at the end of another small hallway. It had to be an exit. But when he reached to door, he stopped. Everything within him told him to just grab the doorknob, turn it, and leave, but again something stopped him. Told him he had to stay right here.

  “Just go,” he growled.

  But he couldn’t bring himself to move. That was until he heard the rattle of the doorknob, jiggling as if someone was inserting a key from the other side.

  Killian, glanced around himself, trying to decide what to do. He noticed the kitchen to his right and sidestepped into the narrow little room, leaning against an avocado-colored refrigerator as he listened. He heard the whoosh and creak of the door opening.

  “Where is he?” a female voice said. A young female voice. The granddaughter?

  “He’s got to still be here,” another female voice said.

  Hmm, he hadn’t considered there might have been more than one granddaughter. That certainly made things more interesting—and worth remembering.

  Killian decided there was no point in hiding. After all, they were expecting him to be there, at least he thought they were talking about him, and they were the ones who could likely offer him the information he wanted.

  He stepped out of the kitchen to see three young girls. And girls was definitely the operative word.

  Dear Lucifer, was there any middle ground here?

  As soon as they saw him, in almost comical unison, the girls screamed. And with the familiarity of that piercing sound, all his lost memories rushed back. The screaming girls, the flying snack foods, the thwack to the head.

  Killian raised a hand, frowning down at his, for all practical purposes, abductors. Surprisingly, his gesture silenced them.

  “Why did you bring me here?”

  If his memories of the night before were any indication, he needed to get answer as quickly as possible, before another candlestick-wielding woman appeared.

  He shot a quick look over his shoulder, just for good measure.

  The girl with a smattering of freckles across her nose and dark brown eyes moved out of the doorway, waving to the other two to join her. The other dark-haired girl joined her inside the apartment. Only the cherubic blond hesitated behind them. But finally, and clearly against her better judgment, she did, although Killian noticed she didn’t release the doorknob.

  Ready for a speedy escape. Smart girl. He was not in a good mood. And he was a demon. Never a great combination.

  “Who are you? And why did you bring me here?” he demanded.

  The girls all shifted, nervous.

  Then to his surprise, the freckle-faced one straightened to her full height—maybe a whopping 5′2″—and met his gaze directly.

  “I’m Daisy.”

  Killian tried not to make a face. Of course, more flowers.

  “This is Madison.” Daisy said, gesturing first one girl, then the other. “And Emma.”

  Madison surprised him by meeting his eyes, too. She sported that ennui that all kids seemed to master as soon as their age hit double digits. Killian was tempted to point out to her she hadn’t looked quite so bored just moments earlier when she was squealing, but he remained silent. Emma still clutched the doorknob, managing none of her friend’s cool boredom. Quite the opposite. As soon as his gaze moved to her, she tensed as if she was ready to dart out—or pass out. Her blue eyes widened and seemed to eat up half her face.

  A twinge of sympathy pulled at him. He ignored it.

  “I was the one who conjured you,” Daisy said, her expression neither blasé nor frightened. This girl was simply direct and calm.

  A girl with a mission.

  “We all conjured you,” Madison corrected, giving Daisy a pointed look.

  “Yes.” Daisy acknowledged her friend’s look, but remained daunted. “We all did. But we conjured you to fulfill my wish.”

  “Which we should have negotiated,” Madison muttered, collapsing against the wall in a perfected slouch of disgust.

  Daisy didn’t even glance to her friend. She stayed focused on him. “We called you to—”

  “Do something impossible,” Madison interjected.

  This time Daisy did shoot a censorious look at her friend. Then she said, “No. It might be a little tricky but not impossible.”

  Madison rolled her eyes. Emma swayed. Apparently passing out was still an option for the silent friend.

  “What is this tricky—possibly impossible—task?” Killian asked, growing tired of the teenage bickering.

  This wasn’t his usual thing. Hell, he’d never been conjured before, and he had very little experience with teenagers. But even with his admittedly limited experience, he wasn’t prepared for what the earnest girl in front of him said next.

  “I want you to find my sister a boyfriend.”