- Even Demons Get the Blues

- Even Demons Get the Blues: Chapter 1

- Even Demons Get the Blues: Chapter 2

- Even Demons Get the Blues: Chapter 3

- Even Demons Get the Blues: Chapter 4

- Even Demons Get the Blues: Chapter 5

- Even Demons Get the Blues: Chapter 6

- Even Demons Get the Blues: Chapter 7

- Even Demons Get the Blues: Chapter 8

- Even Demons Get the Blues: Chapter 9

- Even Demons Get the Blues: Chapter 10

- Even Demons Get the Blues: Chapter 11

- Even Demons Get the Blues: Chapter 12

- Even Demons Get the Blues: Chapter 13

- Even Demons Get the Blues: Chapter 14

- Glossary of Demon and Angel names and their meanings (if applicable)

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Even Demons Get the Blues

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Even Demons Get the Blues © 2009 by Maree Anderson

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Even Demons Get the Blues

* * *

by Maree Anderson

To My Reader:

I wanted to write a truly alpha male hero so when a story idea about a demon popped into my head, how could I resist? Demon or human, my take is we’re all looking for that special someone who’ll truly love us for what we are. The result, Rezon and Leisa’s story, is gritty and at times rather dark but above all it’s a story of redemption and happy endings. And for those of you who like a laugh, there’s always my witty and urbane Demon King to lighten things up as he attempts to help Rez solve his predicament. Enjoy!

Even Demons Get the Blues: Chapter 1

Someone or something rapped imperiously at his door.

What the fuck? All Demons of his acquaintance sent a mental request first. A very polite request, since all were well aware of the punishment he’d mete out for daring otherwise. Only Naamah, so supremely confident of her appeal, shimmered in without a by-your-leave. And then, only when she was in heat and desperate to get laid.

Rezon initiated a furtive surface probe, easing it through the protective wards he’d laid upon his apartment. The being outside was heavily shielded but seemed benign enough. And as she was female, Rez could easily charm the panties off her, no matter what her true purpose for turning up at his doorstep might prove to be. Curiosity piqued, he sauntered toward the door and jerked it open.

The suave greeting he’d devised died unspoken.

Sea-green eyes gazed up at him. Those eyes were soul-weary and marred by anguish but glorious nonetheless. The burnished red-gold of her hair framed her delicate face like a halo. Her porcelain-pale skin seemed to gleam, beckoning him to touch, teasing him with the promise of silky softness. In human male terms she was a walking wet dream. She was his dream.

“Leisa?” Lucifer’s hairy balls. How the Hell had she found his lair?

“Rezon.” Her voice swirled about him, raising the fine hairs on the back of his neck and caressing his bare skin like a lover’s warm breath.

He sagged against the doorframe. Did she know? How could she possibly—

“May I come in?”

Rez could only nod. And gaze spellbound as she undulated past him, the six-inch stiletto heels of her thigh-high boots leaving half-moon-shaped depressions in his parquet flooring.

She lowered herself onto one of the white leather settees. The strapless bodice of her black vinyl mini-dress strained against her breasts as she took a deep breath and smiled at him. If Rez believed in miracles, he might have declared it miraculous her breasts didn’t pop out of her bodice altogether. The tight skirt rode up her smooth white thighs, giving him a magnificent view of her crotch. And the fact she wore no panties.

Fuck.

“Join me.” She patted the cushion next to her.

He finally managed to get his shit together enough to form actual words. “To what do I owe this pleasure, Leisa?”

“Mmm. Pleasure. You must have read my mind.” She pursed her lips and slowly inserted her forefinger, licking and sucking it like a particularly delicious candy, daring him to pounce and have his dreadfully wicked way with her. “I’m soooooo horny.”

Hellfire! This was playing out exactly like one of his x-rated fantasies. He uttered a strangled gasp. His cock rose to the occasion even as his rational brain struggled to make sense of the whole impossible scenario.

Leisa extracted her finger from her mouth to rest it on her slick lower lip and pout, peering up at him in an endearing fashion. “Why are you so afraid of me, Rez?”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“Liar.” She settled back against the cushions, reclining full length and turning on her side in a hip-jutting pose worthy of a Playboy Bunny. “It’s just sex, Rez, the giving and receiving of mutual pleasure—a great deal of mutual pleasure if the size of that bulge in your pants is anything to go by. What’s the problem? Don’t I turn you on anymore?” She smiled with a flirtatious quirking of her lovely lips. Her gaze flicked to the huge mirror he’d fixed to his wall. “Or have the hours I’ve spent performing for you been a waste of my time?”

She knew he’d been watching her, invading her privacy. Lusting after her. And all this time she’d been playacting for him, her audience of one. The very idea turned him on even more. His cock twitched. He smothered an agonized groan.

Leisa opened her arms to him, openly inviting. When her lips curved in a sweetly seductive smile, what was left of his heart shredded.

His cock hardened still more, rubbing uncomfortably against the zipper of his pants. He fought the impulse to grab her and stick his hand up that tight little skirt and squeeze her heart-shaped ass. He wanted to yank down that bodice, lave and suck at the pale mounds of her breasts, lick his way down her belly. He wanted to throw her upon his white shag pile rug and fuck her till she begged for mercy.

“Rez?” Her voice had a little breathy catch to it and her avaricious gaze dropped to fix on the huge bulge of his erect cock. The tip of her tongue moistened her lips and an expression of pure longing darkened her eyes.

She wanted him bad.

Despite the considerable risks, the urge to give her what she wanted pulsed beneath his skin, thickened his erection to painful proportions. Why not fuck her? It would certainly fulfill every single one of his fantasies about her. And then some.

Her allure consumed him and would not be denied. He lunged toward her, pressing her down against the soft leather of the settee, molding the hard aching length of his body to her softer welcoming curves.

She reached down between them, expertly dealing with the fly of his trousers, shoving her hand into the opening, reaching for him.

He gazed down at her and….

The unholy devilish glee in her eyes sat so awkwardly on her angelic face that he paused, lips poised above hers, body thrumming with the need to thrust into hers and claim her. Suspicion pierced his besotted brain, shrieking an urgent warning. He considered her through narrowed eyes as comprehension cleared the last vestiges of sexual thrall.

Her triumphant smile cracked, slid from her face, and became a beseeching plea.

His nostrils flared as he inhaled a deep breath, testing the air. “Clever puss,” he murmured against her lips before rolling off her and retreating to the sanctuary of a chair. He waved his hand to purge the heady aroma of she-Demon on heat scenting the room. “You nearly had me going, Naamah.”

She huffed out a disgruntled breath and sat up, smoothing her hair. “What gave me away?”

He raked her with his heated gaze. Sneered. “Only everything.” Damned if he’d admit she’d nearly had him right where she wanted him.

She snarled, baring delicate fangs.

He sensed sexual frustration thrumming through her veins, the will it took for her to fix a human form and not revert. If he’d not been so irritated by her blatant attempt at manipulation, he might have blurred his hard-on and psychically drained her lust. Instead he slumped down further in his chair, toyed with the open neck of his shirt and deliberately stretched out his legs. Widely. All the better for you to see what I refuse to give you, my dear.

“I’m not going to fuck you, Naamah,” he snarled. “Not even if you do look like her. Find someone else to play with.”

“Fine!” She ran her long black fingernails across the settee, leaving smoking scorch marks on the fine-grained white leather. In a flash she resumed her preferred human form, a form so blindingly beautiful it’d once made his fangs ache. Now it left him unmoved. Been there, done that. Too many times to count.

“Your loss,” she purred, trying for nonchalance.

Pity the slight question he detected in her voice ruined the effect.

Rez sighed. “I do wish you wouldn’t take out your bad temper on my furniture.”

She hissed at him, envy-green eyes filled with fury. “Fuck you!”

“You wish.”

“Why are you so interested in that slutty little human bitch when you could have me? I’ve pleasured thousands of men.”

“Only thousands?”

A tiny frown creased her forehead as she took mental stock of her conquests. “Tens of thousands, then. I was being modest.” She launched herself off the settee. “I never thought I’d say this, Rez, but you’re becoming a serious bore.” She stalked across the living room, hips swaying provocatively, boot-heels grinding into his floor with each step.

At the door of his apartment she paused to adjust her clothing, tugging the bodice up and the skirt down so it actually covered her butt cheeks. Just barely. She struck a pose and tossed her head, her hair fanning out behind her like a velvety pelt. She was gorgeous and she knew it. “I’m sure Azra will get a kick out of entertaining me,” she purred.

She was no true match for him. Rez had no true match—hadn’t for thousands of years. “I’m sure Azra will be delighted to mark you with his scent. Just watch he doesn’t try to cock his leg and piss all over you like the dog he is.”

He truly regretted the hurt he saw in her eyes. Before he could make amends she shrieked, the volume and pitch of the sustained note keyed to shatter all his crystal glasses. With a curl of her lips and a flash of malodorous bottle-green smoke, Naamah vanished.

Rez coughed, waving his hand to dispel the fouled air. He contemplated his ruined settee and glass-sprinkled kitchen, thinking he’d got off extremely lightly. The last time he’d pissed Naamah off he’d had to redecorate his entire apartment.

He snorted. He was a complete dickhead. Leisa would never have stooped to such a slutty outfit. He should have known immediately that—

His gaze danced over the mirror. A jagged crack ran right down the middle. His lips thinned. Shit. More fool him for taunting Naamah. Felinoid Demons were known to be vengeful creatures and she had elevated vengeance to an art form. Now he’d have to spend his evening creating and be-spelling a new mirror before he could indulge in his unhealthy obsession.

His shoulders sagged. Despite his prodigious will, despite knowing he was teetering on the edge of an abyss that might well ultimately lead to his doom, Rez knew he would indulge.

He would watch Leisa in the mirror again.

And again. And again….

Even Demons Get the Blues: Chapter 2

Rez had to see her, had to know exactly what she was doing at this very moment.

Even if she was fucking yet another loser.

The polished surface of the brand new mirror he’d fixed to his wall shimmered as he coaxed an image from its crystalline depths.

“Leisa.” Her name on his lips echoed siren-like through the room, licking him with want. Anticipation surged, thrumming through his veins. His body tightened as her face swam into view.

He’d actually reached out as if to caress her cheek when Leisa rose from her dressing table and wandered over to contemplate the contents of her wardrobe. Rez dropped his hand, bereft, his entire being yearning for what he could not have. He gazed at her, groaned.

Damn her! She was preparing for another night on the town. The pale pink lacy bra and the matching thong she wore clung to her body, enhancing her curves in ways that dealt killing blows to his famous self-control. He ground his teeth, tasting blood as his fangs lengthened and pierced his lower lip.

Leisa shimmied into a clingy little number that left nothing whatever to his extensive imagination. Lucifer have mercy! He hadn’t seen that dress before. It was almost worse than the sexy lingerie. He could hardly be responsible for his actions if she went out trolling for a male dressed so seductively.

She bent to pick up her high-heeled sandals. The hem of the dress crept up her shapely thighs. And up.

Rez’s cock rose to the occasion. His control slipped further. Sweat beaded his brow. He fought it, bucking in his chair, teeth clenched so tightly his jaw ached.

Damnation…. Claws sprouted from his fingertips as his body instinctively reacted to the battle raging within him. The battle he was losing.

Leisa contemplated her reflection, uttered a keening wail of disgust and tore off the dress, tossing it to the floor.

If he had been able to pray right then, he certainly would have. The sight of her clad only in wispy lingerie and fuck-me heels was enough to corrupt even an Angel.

She kicked off her heels, stalked over to the closet and yanked out jeans and a blouse.

Better. Jeans and a blouse he could handle.

Maybe.

Leisa dressed and thrust her feet into more sedate footwear, but instead of leaving the bedroom she perched on the edge of the bed. She sat motionless, staring blindly at the wall, her face a study of blankness. Until her self-control finally crumpled. She buried her face in her hands. Great racking sobs shuddered through her body. She cried as if her heart would break.

And Rez watched her fall apart—a torture of a different kind. His unholy lust diminished, replaced with something softer, something he could not for the life of him put a name to.

When she’d shed her last tear she stood and walked over to the mirror on her dressing table. Robot-like she repaired her tear-ravaged face and dabbed gloss on her lips. She straightened her shoulders and smiled at her reflection. It was a smile of pure bravado laced with the starkness of despair.

Rez concentrated on picking up her surface thoughts. A few tears wouldn’t wash away her pain, but she knew what would. She’d lose herself tonight. Lose herself in the fulfillment of base needs and desires. Lose herself in the body of a stranger. Subject herself to his will and every whim.

And all Rez could do was watch her walk from the bedroom, lock the front door and disappear into the night.

He fought yet another urge which thrust its claws directly into his heart. The urge to offer himself in place of whichever man she might choose tonight. The urge to press his lips to hers and taste her, lick and bite his way down her body, brand her and make her his own. The urge to possess her in all the myriad ways a man could possess a woman, and then—

He waved a hand, instantly blanking the mirror. It took far longer than it should have to lock away his desires and attain the level of control he needed.

But he managed.

***

A rip-roaring snore woke Leisa from the bliss of alcoholic oblivion. A killer headache spiked her skull. She bit back a moan, cracked open her eyelids and forced her head to loll to one side.

The guy sprawled beside her on the bed had been pretty drool-worthy when viewed through tequila-hazed eyes, but in the cold hard light of day he was a mess. His mouth hung slack, revealing tobacco-stained teeth. His breath was ripe enough to kill. His long dark hair, which had seemed so darn sexy last night, straggled in lank oily hanks about his face.

The limp condom lying between Leisa and the man she’d fucked rubbed her nose in her folly. And the only drooling being done right now was the trickle of saliva trailing down his unshaven chin to soak the pillow.

Hell! In a drunken stupor she’d fucked the great unwashed. Again. She couldn’t remember his name, if indeed she’d even bothered to ask.

Her mouth felt like a used ashtray and her eyes burned. Doubtless she was no prize to look at, either. She edged to the side of the mattress and rolled off to land on her hands and knees on the floor. The room spun. She fought nausea, beat it into submission for fear if she upchucked she’d wake the sleeping man. When her stomach settled, she gathered her clothes and tiptoed into the bathroom, pulling the door quietly closed behind her.

The bruising on her upper arms and thighs sobered her completely. The bites on her breasts began to sting and throb. It had obviously been a rough night. She trickled water from the tap, splashing it over her face and neck, then squeezed a blob of toothpaste from the mangled tube and rubbed it over her teeth.

As she combed her fingers through her tangled hair, she stared through the mirror, not at it, deliberately ignoring the wreck of her own reflection. Pity-filled tears welled in her eyes and she dashed them away.

Why did she keep doing this to herself? She was hurtling headlong down an ultimately destructive path. The evidence was right in front of her, sprawled across the bed in the next room. But she couldn’t stop herself. Alcohol numbed her pain and sex filled the emptiness in her soul. For a time.

When she’d cleaned herself up as best she could, she dragged on her clothes and peered out from the bathroom.

Sleeping Beauty was still snoring, thank Christ. Relieved she wouldn’t have to face him, Leisa walked out of his apartment and out of his life.

The instant she stepped outside, sunlight burned her red-rimmed eyes. Suppressing a wince she clapped on her shades and dug around in her handbag for some aspirin.

Despite her sorry state, she still suffered wolf-whistles and appreciative smirks from a number of male passersby.

Men. Gotta admire their single-mindedness.

She hailed a taxi and crawled inside, slumping in the rear seat and closing her eyes. Was the sex last night worth the toll it’d taken on her body—or her self-esteem?

The cabbie took a corner too fast and as Leisa’s abused muscles protested the effort it took to keep her seat, it occurred to her to be thankful she couldn’t remember much about the sordid encounter at all.

***

Rezon jerked his gaze from the mirror. He was on the verge of smashing the cursed thing to smithereens, grinding the shards beneath his heel and erasing them from existence. Unfortunately his memories of what Leisa had done and whom she’d done it to could not be so easily erased. They played over and over in his mind, inciting him, taunting him. His fingernails twisted to claws. He gouged deep furrows in the armrests of his chair. He surged to his feet to pace the room. Rage heated his blood, infecting his thoughts and polluting his self-control.

Stupid bitch!

So wasted, so consumed by self-hatred she’d spread her legs for the most pathetic excuse for a human male she could find. This time she’d given herself to little more than an animal, a man capable of nothing more than mounting her to thrust and grunt his way to a climax. For a man such as that, any woman would have done the trick. Hell, if he’d stuck his dick in a hole in his fucking pillow he’d have probably got off!

Leisa hadn’t cared. She’d gone with him willingly, fallen across his bed in an alcoholic stupor and let him fuck her.

The last vestiges of restraint fled. Rez manifested inside the man’s apartment, right at the foot of his rumpled sex-scented bed. “Wake up, scum. It’s your unlucky day.” He grasped the bottom of the bed and tipped it sideways, dumping its occupant in a heap on the floor.

“Wha—?” The man pushed himself onto hands and knees, shaking his head and blinking to clear the fuzz from his mind. “Wha’th’fuck?”

“And about that.” Rez bared his teeth in an ugly sneer. “Do you even remember who you fucked last night, shit for brains?” He advanced on the human, grabbing him by his upper arms and hauling him upright. He shook him till his teeth rattled and he hung limp in Rez’s grip. “Do you?”

“N-n-no,” the man managed between chattering teeth.

“Her name is Leisa.”

“L-L-Liza! Right. I remember now.”

“Leisa, you fucking pathetic excuse for a man.” Rez snarled. His fangs lengthened. His amber eyes blazed, pupils elongating. His skin bloomed iridescent scaly patches as he lost control of his human form and began to revert.

The human’s eyes bugged out of his head. “I’m s-sorry!” he blurted, sniveling and blubbering like an infant. “I’ll b-be a better person from now on. I’ll g-give up the booze and the drugs a-and the women! I’ll… I’ll… get a decent job and start payin’ taxes, I swear! Just don’t kill me, please! Gimme another chance, I’m begging you!”

Rez’s nostrils twitched as he scented the acrid stink of urine. He glanced down, saw the piss on the male’s weakly kicking legs, and dropped the human on his bony ass. Stepping away from him, he fisted his hands at his sides and sought to regain control.

Was this what he’d been reduced to? Terrifying humans? He was a Beguiler. He was supposed to seduce humans and subtly subvert them, not scare them half to death and ultimately have them renounce their wicked ways. That sort of carry-on was the province of Guardian Angels. Asmodeus would kick his ass into the great beyond if this got around. Fuck.

He closed his eyes, seeking the insidious worm of fury coiled in his gut. He cocooned it in disciplined logic and rendered it powerless. He’d already broken the rules by revealing himself to this scumbag, and much as he’d like to dismember the worthless bastard, there’d be Hell to pay if he did.

His fangs retracted. The scales receded from his skin and his eyes lost their alien cast. “I’m not going to kill you,” he said. “I assure you, aside from the woman you fucked last night I don’t give a rat’s ass what you do. So go ahead, dick-breath, fuck and drink and snort yourself to oblivion and beyond. I won’t stop you. In fact, I applaud your unswerving dedication. Just don’t ever lay another hand on Leisa or you’ll answer to me.”

The man gaped at him. Rez sensed his brain—or what was left of it after years of drug abuse—finally beginning to take stock of his situation.

Obviously time for a little damage control. Rez reached for the human, intending to expunge his memory, but the moment he made mental contact with the man he was lost. The shit-faced little turd was wondering why a slut like the woman he’d fucked last night was so important to Rez.

Images of Leisa seared through Rez’s brain. He again saw her being mounted by this animal now cringing at his feet. He shared the man’s feral joy as he thrust inside her, marked her smooth breasts with his teeth. He experienced the satisfaction, the thrill of holding her down, uncaring whether he hurt her or that his grasping fingers would bruise her delicate skin.

Rez’s amber eyes bled to black, pupils and irises melding to inky pools of darkness. The chaotic maelstrom of his rage beckoned. And he embraced it.

***

When the frenzy left him, Rez confronted the results of his temper tantrum. The destruction was extensive, to say the least. The ceiling of the apartment was pockmarked. Holes gaped in the walls. Carpet had been yanked from the floor and shredded. Material fibers from the bedding and mattress floated in the air. Even the wallpaper had been stripped and shredded. And the bed itself, the scene of the crime as far as Rez was concerned, had been reduced to matchstick-sized pieces.

The sole positive aspect of the entire situation was the human still lived and breathed. With a wave of his hand Rez righted the room, recreating furniture and furnishings, plugging gaping holes in the walls and ceiling. The bed he also recreated, though it galled him to do so. When all was as it had been, complete with mold in one corner of the ceiling and musty dampness lifting the carpet by the wardrobe, he turned his attention to the human.

The man lay curled in a fetal position in the far corner of the room. He twitched and moaned; eyelids squeezed shut and hands clutching his head. He was not physically damaged, but he had been mentally traumatized. In the confines of his mind a stream of nonsense gibbered incessantly. If left as he was, he’d be a vegetable.

Rez had definitely overstepped his Beguiler boundaries this time. If word got back to his King, Rez’s hide might soon be adorning the royal throne. Despite their friendship, once the Council became involved Asmodeus would be forced to make an example of him. And those asinine old Council pricks would learn what he’d done. Some brown-nosing Demon looking for a leg up would go running to the Council with news of Rez’s transgression. Given their hatred of Rez, the Council members to a one would willingly carve out their own livers rather than pass up a chance to take him down.

Rez entered the human’s mind, healed the lesions and expunged all memory of Leisa and of his own visit.

It was tempting to fuck around with the part of the man’s brain responsible for his craving of drugs and booze, speed his journey toward that early grave he was so avidly courting. Even more amusing might be to implant a subliminal suggestion that would give the human a dick-droop the moment he so much as thought about getting in a woman’s pants.

He quashed these urges. Such mind-fucks left evidence of tampering, and despite the unholy pleasure it’d give him, such petty vengeance was not worth the punishment if he was caught.

Before he vanished, he infected the man with a nasty stomach flu virus and infested his mattress with a nest of fleas. A Demon’s largesse only extended so far.

Even Demons Get the Blues: Chapter 3

Asmodeus, King of Demons, plumped the eiderdown pillows behind his head and stretched out on his super-king-sized bed. A couple of hours to himself at last! He sighed blissfully—well, as full of bliss as a Demon could possibly get, given the lamentable state of its eternally damned soul.

With a thought he commanded the massive LCD screen to begin playing an episode of his favorite TV series. Asmodeus adored the premise behind Dead Like Me with its skulking gravelings causing fatal accidents and undead Reapers collecting victims’ souls just before they suffered a violent death. Some of the deaths were so inspired even he would have been hard put to come up with them! The humor was black, the language sprinkled with profanities and the frequent death scenes graphically wince-worthy—just his cup of blood. And the whole idea of the Reapers meeting at a waffle house and being given their “assignments” on Post-It notes tickled him no end.

“Your Eminence, I’m dreadfully sorry to disturb you but—”

Asmodeus paused the program with an audible snarl. So much for downtime. “This better be good, Verrine!”

“I have a Beguiler, Naamah, who is requesting a private interview. She is most insistent.”

Asmodeus grinned. Cat versus serpent…. The mind boggled. Well, his did, anyway. He’d been blessed with a wonderfully vivid imagination.

A moment’s silence and then, “Will you see her, Your Eminence? Or shall I…” force the little bitch into her primary form, shave off all her fur and pass her round the office “…dismiss her?”

Asmodeus smirked. His secretary was obviously unmoved by Naamah’s particular brand of self-importance. “I will see her now. And Verrine?”

“Yes, Your Eminence?”

“Before you send her up, do tell her I expect her interruption to be worth it or I’ll make her suffer. Please ensure she understands. Fully.”

“With pleasure, Your Eminence.” Verrine’s voice throbbed with venomous delight.

Asmodeus removed himself to his formal waiting room, scowling as he contemplated his towering obsidian throne.

His towering, rock-hard, fucking uncomfortable obsidian throne.

He’d have gotten rid of the damned thing millennia ago if it hadn’t been a gift from Lucifer himself. Even more unfortunately for Asmodeus, none of his subjects had misbehaved enough to warrant him skinning them and making their hides into cushions to ease his discomfort. Yet. He remained ever hopeful.

A timid knock on the door had him bounding to his throne and draping himself upon it so he looked the part. “Enter.”

He eyed the Beguiler as she picked her way with undue care across the mirror-shiny black marble floor, high heels screeching when she fought for balance. He hid a smirk. Her primary Felinoid form’s paws would have easily traversed the floor. He made a mental note to reward the servants for their diligence in buffing the floor to such a treacherous degree.

At the foot of the throne she sank to her knees and bowed her head.

“Well, get on with it, Naamah. Tell me what you’re here for. Don’t leave me in suspense. I have important things to do.”

As she whined and bitched about Rezon’s neglectful behavior, Asmodeus’s countenance grew ever stonier. He ground his teeth. Damn that Drakon! Rez was one of the most powerful entities in Hell. He’d been Asmodeus’s lieutenant for four thousand gloriously gory years before abruptly resigning and requesting reassignment to the Beguiler unit.

A Beguiler? Cold, clinical, ruthless Rez? Such a waste.

Of course Asmodeus had to admit Rez, even as a Beguiler, was exceptionally good at his job. Brilliant, in fact. When he bothered to do it.

Unlike some male Beguilers who limited themselves to attractive human females, Rez had once confessed he appreciated young women in all their myriad forms. The Drakon could find hidden beauty in even the most unprepossessing female package. And it was often shy, plain little human females who proved to be his most successful Subverters. For Rez it was child’s play to corrupt the little office mouse and encourage her transformation into a steamy temptress Hell-bent on wreaking havoc upon her unwary male colleagues. Those sorts of young women made the best home-wreckers, and for decades those same young women had helped Rez just squeak by with his quotas.

Not that Rez gave a shit about quotas. Asmodeus had been forced to hide his delight on more than one occasion when the Drakon informed the Council in somewhat graphic terms where they could stick them.

Rez was the closest thing Asmodeus had to a friend, but even after nearly four thousand years of what passed for friendship in the Demon world, Asmodeus didn’t believe he truly understood the Drakon at all. If he didn’t know better, he’d think Rez was depressed.

Now there was something to consider. Did Demons get the blues?

Nah, surely not. Rez’s preoccupation with the human female was just a temporary aberration—much like his leaving Asmodeus in the lurch to join the Beguilers. He’d snap out of it. Eventually. Hopefully.

Asmodeus had been inclined to leave Rezon be, but now that Naamah had officially brought his folly to her King’s attention, he’d be forced to do something about it. Like pound some fucking sense into Rez’s thick Drakon skull. And given Rez’s prowess when it came to combat, that was probably gonna hurt Asmodeus at least as much as it hurt Rez. Shit.

After he’d dismissed Naamah, Asmodeus returned to his bed and contemplated his TV screen. This time he commanded a completely different form of entertainment and spent the evening observing his friend indulging in his unhealthy obsession for the human female.

Lucifer’s hairy balls! Asmodeus snorted in a most un-Kinglike fashion at the soulful yearning in Rez’s eyes. One might be forgiven for thinking the Drakon was horns over tail in love!

“Rezon, Rezon, Rezon.” The Demon King shook his handsome head and tapped a forefinger on his fangs. “What the Hell am I going to do with you?”

Even Demons Get the Blues: Chapter 4

Yet another Saturday night and Rez had stayed home to observe Leisa in the mirror. Again.

And soon began to wish he hadn’t. Again.

Gripped by whatever dark impulse drove her, Leisa had flagged down a taxi and instructed the cabbie to drive in any direction, anywhere. Just drive and she’d tell him when to stop. She hadn’t known exactly where she was going or what she was looking for. Nor did she care.

She’d ended up outside a seedy bar on the main street of some thoroughly undesirable neighborhood. Right now she was perched on a grimy wobbly-legged stool, arms resting on a smeared and filthy bar, knocking back tequila at a truly frightening rate for a human. Even the grossly fat, slack-lipped barman seemed impressed by her capacity.

“Keep ’em coming,” she told him, digging a hundred buck note out of her bra and slapping it down before the man’s greedy eyes. She wasn’t yet at the stage where she’d scour the joint for a suitable male to ease her pain, but a few more shots and she could be anyone’s.

Rezon knew he courted disaster but damn it! If she was going to be anyone’s tonight, she’d be his.

He knew in his bones he could not bear another evening of watching her getting progressively more pissed until she finally hooked up with a partner for the evening. He’d do some real damage if he had to watch her get fucked over again. Better he be the instrument of her destruction than some disease-ridden scumbag with no sexual finesse whatsoever. He might blow her mind—literally—but at least she’d die with a smile on her face. A sexually sated smile, which would have to be better than the crooked “come hither” quirk currently gracing her crimson-slicked lips.

He despised himself for watching her when she was like this, but he couldn’t stop. As humans often said, it was like watching a train wreck or gawking at an accident scene. You knew you shouldn’t look, you knew you might see something so awful it’d haunt you forever, but you looked anyway.

He despised the predatory men who raked her with their sleazy-eyed gazes, mentally gauging her rapidly declining sobriety, awaiting their chance to proposition her without risking the ignominy of a slap in the face or a flat-out “fuck off and leave me alone.”

Rez hated Leisa for making him feel this way—for making him feel, period. She was a drug he craved and could not break free from. She robbed him of his ability to distance himself from emotional attachments, to suppress and ignore the fierce desires he’d denied himself for so very long. She filled him with a brutally burning need for her—for her lush female body, her rarely displayed wit and the intelligent mind she dulled with alcohol.

He hated her with the kind of searing, aching passion he hadn’t felt in forever.

He wanted her with that same degree of passion.

He wanted to mend her broken soul. He wanted to sink himself deep inside her and commune with her at every level.

Hell. He just wanted her.

Before he could talk himself out of this half-baked scheme, which could quite conceivably lead to him being flayed alive, he clothed himself suitably and willed himself to the bar.

His appearance on the footpath immediately outside the Dirty Dog Bar ’n Grill startled a homeless man rooting through the bin for empties. Rez tossed the man a fifty. “Go find yourself a decent bed, old man. It’s not a good night to be out and about.” The man took one look at Rez’s swirling black-flecked eyes and swallowed his mumbled thanks. With an alacrity born of fear he scuttled away, vanishing into the night.

Rez paused by the door, the point of no return. Once he entered the bar, once he saw her in the flesh, inhaled her unique scent, touched her skin, there’d be no going back. He was rather fond of his hide. Was she worth it?

He had spent more than six millennia negotiating the bloody, perilous paths of Hell and sparring with its equally bloodthirsty and vicious minions. Drakons were essentially creatures of instinct and fierce emotion. Those instincts and emotions were vastly heightened and almost uncontrollable when the mating frenzy was upon them. Every season the mature males had fought for the right to mate, and the females for the right to be mated. The weak and injured had been slaughtered by their own kind and by other Demon breeds seeking to prove themselves. And every season Drakon numbers—never vast to begin with—had dwindled.

By the time Rez was hatched, the breed teetered on the edge of extinction. In a mere decade he was the sole example of his kind in existence.

He’d survived because he’d been an infant—too young to be considered a threat. He grew up alone with none of his own kind to watch his back. And when he matured enough to leave the safety of his lair and take his place amongst Demonkind, he challenged all comers and won. As centuries and then millennia passed, Rez learned to subdue his essential nature and rely on his rationality—in other words, brain before brawn. His brain had served him well thus far. His intellect, his ruthlessness and his cunning were unsurpassed by any save Asmodeus himself.

Now one soul-weary human woman jeopardized all Rez’s hard-won control.

He knew Leisa was anathema to him, but he didn’t care. His instincts screamed at him to take her and make her his own. He didn’t give a shit what the future held for him or for her. Tonight she’d be his.

He pushed open the door.

***

The abrupt silence cued Leisa that someone worthy of notice had just entered the bar. She swiveled on her stool, her gaze seeking him, the overwhelmingly masculine presence she sensed. Her eyes locked with his and awareness fizzed through her veins, jerking her from the comforting warmth of her alcoholic haze. In the dim smoke-fogged light, his strangely colored eyes glittered as he stared at her unblinking. Her body instantly responded to him. Her breasts swelled, nipples tightening and thrusting from the confines of her lacy bra. The crotch of her panties moistened with the slickness of her instant shocking arousal, and she squeezed her thighs together to ease an ache of pure unadulterated lust.

Her breathing quickened. He was here for her. She knew it with every fiber of her being, with every wildly accelerating beat of her lonely heart.

She admired the grace of his movements as he stalked toward her. He was a striking man, all long lean lines and lithe muscles. Tall. Wide-shouldered and narrow-hipped. Muscled thighs strained the fabric of his trousers with each step he took. His black silk shirt clung to his chest, allowing tantalizing impressions of hard planes of muscle beneath. His dark hair hung thick and glossy to his shoulder blades, too long to be fashionable but it suited him. He was fiercely intent—wild, like some large predator courting his prey.

Leisa shivered, understanding at some elemental level that she was his prey. A man such as he would eat her alive.

And she’d lie back and let him.

Her breath caught when he reached her, looming over her, crowding her personal space with his large body. She hadn’t realized he was quite so tall—well over six-foot—until he stood beside her. Just as she hadn’t realized how truly handsome he was. The raw masculinity of his face would weaken the knees of any female with a pulse. He robbed her of breath, made her dizzy with want and need.

He bent toward her; smoothed wayward curls from her face and tucked the locks behind her ears. “Breathe, darling. Just breathe.”

The seductive timbre of his voice coated her like warm chocolate, smooth and velvety and soft as his lips caressing the tender skin just below her ear. Her eyelids drifted closed as he cupped her chin. He drew her earlobe into his mouth and suckled, his tongue toying with the gold hoop earring dangling from her pierced ear.

Leisa’s face and body flushed with heat. Her sex contracted as though he’d inserted a finger deep inside her… two fingers… working inside her, probing, learning the contours of her feminine core. Spearing in and out, now shallow, now deep, setting a glorious rhythm she hadn’t known she craved. The sensation of a phantom thumb on her clit, flicking and teasing the tiny nub to swollen pouting arousal, blurred her eyesight. She closed her eyes, awash in a world of sexual sensation. The harder he sucked her lobe the more her body reacted—swollen heavy breasts, nipples tingling, vaginal muscles clenching and pulsing urgently, strongly. She inhaled his spicy scent, bathed in it, reveled in its potency and the way it prickled over her skin like thousands of tiny strumming fingers. She teetered on a knife-edge of pleasure, swallowed a moan.

He bit her ear.

The sharp pain tipped Leisa over to full-blown orgasm.

She opened her mouth to scream. He plucked her from the stool and yanked her against his chest. His mouth took hers. He pulled her scream from her lips, inhaled it, and drank it down. The only thing preventing her collapsing to the floor were his hands. One big hand cradled her head while he kissed her senseless. His other hand cupped her ass, keeping her flush against him. Grounding her.

While the ripples of her orgasm gentled, he soothed her, rubbing gentle circles across her back until her shudders ceased and she quieted.

Oh. My. God. Leisa buried her face against his chest. Getting blind drunk was one thing, but this? She could not believe she’d just made such a spectacle of herself. Public orgasms? This man was dangerous. She knew it absolutely.

She wanted him anyway.

She pushed herself away from him, all too aware that if he chose, he could keep her in his arms with frightening ease. He held the power, not she. When her traitorous knees wobbled she locked them, cursing her own weakness. She craved his warmth, the protection of his arms, but she needed to maintain some distance, to at least pretend she was in control.

Awareness that every damned patron in the bar was staring at them—at her—settled over Leisa like a suffocating censorious shroud. She stiffened her back, tilted her jaw defiantly. Damn it! She hadn’t planned on being the evening’s entertainment.

“Nice show, lady.” The slack-jawed bartender finally got his shit together enough to smirk and waggle his uni-brow.

“Yeah. Bet you’d like in on the action, too, huh?”

He licked his thick lips. A speculative gleam sparked in his bloodshot eyes.

“Here’s an idea.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him, sneering inwardly when he leaned forward and practically drooled. “How about you keep the rest of my hundred and go buy yourself a cheap lay—if you can find anyone who’ll have you.” Pathetic comeback, she knew, but she wasn’t capable of anything more incisive right now.

The bartender’s eyes widened. His shit-eating grin slid from his droopy jowls.

Take that, you jerk. Swiveling on her heel, Leisa collided with the big bad orgasmic hunk of maleness who had brought her to a new level of low—namely flagrant exhibitionism. Right. Obviously he’d been the reason behind the slimy bartender looking like something had crawled up his ass and died, not her own attempt at a put-down.

He steadied her with his hands at her waist, the warmth of his touch seeping through her bones, easing the ache of her mortification.

“Are you ready to go?” he murmured, grasping her chin and gently forcing her to look directly at his eyes.

“Now? With you?”

“Yes.”

Leisa nodded. She couldn’t have turned him down to save herself. Nor did she raise a protest when he took her elbow and guided her from the bar, out into the night.

The cool evening air smacked her face, sobering her somewhat but not enough to change her mind about this encounter. Not enough to go home alone and face the mess her life had become. She glanced at the man beside her, wondering what he saw in her, why someone like him could possibly want her. A man that gorgeous could have any woman….

“But I want you,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her hair. His arm snaked about her waist, tucking her close to his side as he matched his strides to hers.

Leisa’s heart skipped a beat. God, he was hot! And he knew just what to say and when to say it. Dizzy with pleasure at his compliment, she found herself hoping his between-the-sheets action was as smooth as his tongue.

“I assure you, I won’t leave you wanting,” he said.

Her step faltered. “Are you reading my mind?”

He gazed down at her, his expression half-teasing, half-serious. “Would it worry you if I could?”

Leisa chewed her bottom lip as she considered the startling idea. “Strangely, no.” She quirked an eyebrow naughtily at him, the dull warmth of the tequila swishing in her gut making her reckless. “Actually, the idea turns me on. For once I wouldn’t have to hint or risk ridicule by asking for what I wanted. You’d just know.” Flushing, she pushed her hand through her hair and dropped her gaze, scuffing the pavement with her shoe. “It’d sure be a whole lot less complicated that way.”

“Mmmmm. By ‘it’ I presume you mean sex?”

She nodded.

“You don’t usually tell your men what does it for you when they fuck you, do you?”

Hectic color washed her cheeks. “No. I don’t.”

To her surprise he chuckled. Wickedly. “Then let us not delay your satisfaction any longer.”

Desire skimmed her skin, rolled through her, pooled at the juncture of her thighs. Jesus! Thank God she was wearing a dress, not jeans. If she got any more turned on she’d need a change of panties. “Uh, where are you taking me?”

“I’m taking you to my place. And then I’m taking you. In many and varied ways. All of which you’ll enjoy. That I guarantee.”

Leisa stared at him, lips parted in an O of astonishment. Erotic images surged through her mind. His big body naked, entwined with hers, his long hair skimming her thighs as he parted her legs and dipped his head to taste her…. She blinked, licked her lips, leaped back to reality. “What’s your name?”

“Rezon. You may call me Rez, if you like.”

“I’m Leisa.”

“A beautiful name for a beautiful woman. Do you know what it means?”

She shook her head.

“Ironically it means God’s promise or God’s oath.”

“Huh. I didn’t know that.” She noticed the crease marring his forehead, the slight narrowing of his stunning amber eyes, which to her suggested he was in pain. “Are you all right?”

“It is nothing.” He smiled down at her, a man with the face of an angel but the eyes of a sinner. “Now I’m with you, I will be more than all right.”

Leisa’s heart thrilled at the sensual promise she heard in his voice. Silver-tongued devil! “Um, have we far to walk? My feet are killing me.”

Rez glanced down at her strappy high-heeled sandals. “Not far. But to save you further discomfort….” Without breaking his stride he swept her into his arms and proceeded down the street as if she weighed no more than a baby.

“Rez! Put me down right now.” The thrill coursing through her body at being cradled in his arms mocked her demand.

“And why would I do that, Leisa, when I so enjoy having you in my arms?” He grinned down at her, daring her to make a fuss. “Why don’t you just lie back and think of… mmmmm… I don’t know. What you’d like me to do to you. Very shortly. As soon as I get you home and lay you on my bed. Or perhaps the rug by the fireplace. Your choice.”

She flushed and crossed her arms beneath her breasts, disdaining to comment. She endured the knowing smirks and ribald comments from passersby for an entire five minutes before she’d had enough. “This is insane. Everyone’s staring at us!”

“They are merely envious of me because of the lovely woman I’m taking home to bed. Their problem.”

“But, Rez!”

“But, Leisa.”

He dipped his head, brushing her lips with a kiss so soft, so gentle, so perfect, she felt cherished and protected and utterly safe. How she’d craved those feelings. How she wished she deserved them.

Tears welled, silent testimony to how devastatingly close to the surface this relative stranger had coaxed her emotions. She blinked them away. If she didn’t draw back, if she let him affect her this deeply, this strongly, they’d overwhelm her and tumble her back into the black abyss of loss and suffering she fought so hard to escape. She jerked her head to the side and his lips, deprived of their target, skimmed her neck, lipped her wildly beating pulse.

As if he sensed her fear, her resolve to distance herself from him and his effect on her, Rez released her to slide down his body until she stood on tiptoe, pressed flush against him, held prisoner by his arms.

She wiggled, a silent demand for freedom that he refused to obey. He cupped her face with his palms, cradling it gently enough but still forcing her to look at him. “Do you want me to go, Leisa? Do you want me to leave you be?”

God help her, she didn’t. She wanted him.

“I want you, too. The same way.” He claimed her mouth, his lips hard and unyielding.

She opened for him, meeting his tongue with her own, sucking his lips, his tongue, drinking him into the deepest, darkest recesses of her soul. He swallowed the clamoring fears rising in her mind and absorbed them, depriving them of their power. Desire swept through her—a desire so pure, so strong, she gasped, shuddering in his arms.

“I know,” he murmured. “Don’t fight it, Leisa. Let it take you. Ride it, it’s easier to bear that way.”

Rez shattered her inhibitions and fostered her susceptibility to what he offered.

He kissed her again and, as he claimed her and branded her as his own, her focus narrowed. The bleak reality of her existence ceased to matter. The real world, her starkly lonely unhappy world, slipped away unnoticed and un-mourned. She did not see the curious stares of the people in the street. She did not hear the blaring horns of the vehicles driving past and the catcalls from their drivers and passengers.

Suddenly her mind was incredibly clear, as though her heightened emotions had burned off the effects of the tequila she’d imbibed. While he plundered her mouth, she flicked open the buttons of his shirt and pushed the silky material aside, thrilling at the hard planes of his chest and abs she could feel beneath her questing hands. One hand drifted directly over his heart, rested there, assimilating the steady pulsing beat of his lifeblood. Daringly she squeezed his nipple.

He shuddered, abruptly ending the kiss to throw back his head, eyes closed, mouth parted.

She drew in a harsh, gasping breath of her own and took full advantage. She replaced her hand with her mouth, caressing his skin, licking him, tasting him.

Rez groaned, cupped the base of her skull and held her against him.

She suckled, inhaled his scent, and felt it curl about her, envelop her and ensnare her.

He consumed all her senses. There was only him, Rez, this insanely handsome, wonderfully sexy guy who’d found a way to plunge through the numbness of her soul and make her feel.

Even Demons Get the Blues: Chapter 5

Rez confounded Leisa’s senses, blurred them both from human view, and transported her instantly to his apartment. Only then did he soften his kiss and draw back, easing her into reality by dampening his desire-inducing pheromones. As he watched awareness seep into her lust-hazed eyes, he wondered just why he’d become so enamored of this particular woman—of Leisa. Perhaps it was the darkness lurking in her soul that beckoned him and heightened her allure. Like calling to like.

She blinked, glanced down, obviously startled by the realization she was nestled against him on the settee in his apartment. “How did we get here? I don’t remember a lift or….”

“You were, ah, otherwise involved at the time.”

“Oh.” She unfisted her hands from his shirt, absently smoothing the creases she’d made as she did so, stroking them from the silk with her palms. Her hands stilled, as if she’d suddenly realized the liberties she was taking. Biting her lip, she tucked them away at her sides.

A shame. Rez enjoyed the sensation of her hands on his body. She was a delightfully tactile little creature and he fully intended to make certain that tendency carried over into their sex-play.

She sat up, slanting a furtive glance about the room. “Nice.”

“Only nice?” Rez couldn’t help but be mildly offended. His apartment was worthy of a spread in Homes of the Rich and Famous. He’d made sure of it.

“It’s um….” She chewed her lip.

To his astonishment, he read in her mind she was searching for a suitable adjective that would not offend him while not exactly being a lie. “Sterile” was her uppermost thought when she surveyed his decorating efforts.

“You think it’s sterile,” he said, more amused by the blow to his decorating prowess than annoyed.

“I’m sorry if you’re offended. It’s beautifully decorated and the furnishings are truly exquisite. But it’s just so monochromatic, so cold. It needs color to give it some warmth and vibrancy.”

Rez surveyed his home through new eyes. She was right. He’d make sure to remedy that lack.

Later. After he’d fucked her.

“Don’t apologize. You’re a perceptive woman, Leisa, and I value your opinion.”

She blushed and ducked her head. “Thank you.”

Her shyness and embarrassment at his compliment did not fit the woman he’d watched drink herself into a stupor and choose a different man to fuck every Saturday night for the past year.

Or perhaps those qualities did fit her. Perhaps the alcohol was a prop to give her the courage to take what she wanted—what she thought she wanted.

Rez intended to make absolutely certain he ruined her for those sordid encounters. After he was through with her, if she wanted sex she’d go out and take it from whichever man took her fancy, not get herself so drunk she was anyone’s. He’d see to it in future she demanded a skillful lover and didn’t settle for the first sleazebag with enough smarts to realize she was too drunk to say no.

That was his rationale, his reasoning behind his decision. He refused to look deep within himself and perhaps discover an unpalatable truth lurking like a snare set for the unwary—that he might truly desire to ruin her for any lover other than himself. “Have you decided what you want me to do to you yet?”

Her flush deepened, blooming down her neck and chest. “No.”

“Little liar. You have been thinking about it, haven’t you? You’ve been imagining my mouth on your body, picturing my tongue licking warm, wet circles over your breasts, wondering how it will feel when I take your nipple into my mouth and—”

“Th-thirsty!” she squeaked, pressing her palms to her flushed cheeks. She launched herself from the settee and headed for the kitchen. “I’m really thirsty. Is—? Is there anything to drink around here?” She skittered over to the refrigerator and opened the door to peer inside, fanning her face to take better advantage of the wash of cooled air.

Rez kicked off his shoes and socks. He dissolved and reformed behind her. “I’ve always been a fan of ice-cubes,” he said, enjoying her startled squeak at his sudden appearance. “It’s so much fun watching them…,” he paused, raking her body with his hot gaze, “melt.”

Leisa swallowed, her eyes huge. He leaned into her, watching her pupils dilate when he brushed her breast with his reaching hand—accidentally on purpose, of course. He snagged a bottle of champagne with one hand and her arm with the other. “Let’s have that drink, shall we?”

He smiled inwardly when she visibly relaxed and allowed herself to be led to the black granite countertop. If she thought she was going to get through tonight by getting drunk out of her mind, she had another think coming. In fact, she’d be coming. Many times. And he would ensure she’d be stone cold sober and remember in vivid detail every single time she screamed his name.

Rez expertly uncorked the bottle and splashed champagne into crystal flutes. He handed one to her and clinked her glass. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.” Leisa took a sip. And another. Her eyelids drifted closed as she savored the taste. “This is truly divine.”

“I’m a hedonist,” he told her. “Only the best will do.”

“I remember my sister’s husband telling me life is too short to drink bad wine.” Her lips thinned, tightening briefly before she attempted a smile.

“He sounds like a man after my own heart.”

“I doubt that. And anyway, he’s dead.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Leisa drained her flute and held it out for a refill with a brilliantly fake smile pasted on her lips. “Mmmmm.” She gulped half the glass and the elegant white column of her neck and throat jarred him from his curiosity about the brother-in-law she’d mentioned.

Sipping his champagne and focused solely on the object of his obsession, Rez considered his options. A slow sensual seduction? Perhaps a fast and furious coupling—the first time he took her, anyway—followed by a leisurely exploration of her body.

Leisa pressed her flute to her cleavage, gasping as the chilled glass cooled her heated flesh. His gaze followed the slow rolling trail of the glass between her breasts. His enhanced eyesight noted the condensation from the cool crystal pearling on her pale skin and he imagined licking it off. His cock hardened. His balls grew heavy with need and damned if he didn’t break out into a sweat.

He must have uttered some small noise because her gaze shot to his. She smiled at him, more genuinely this time. A wickedly teasing light sparkled in her eyes as she raised the crystal flute to her lips and drank the rest of her champagne. She was enjoying the effect she had on him. Amazing what a couple of glasses of alcohol could do for shyness.

Rez drained his own glass and set it aside. French champagne he could enjoy any time, but a woman like Leisa….

She waggled her glass at him. “More.”

He obliged, entering her mind as she sipped her drink to manipulate certain functions within her brain and body. Tonight she could drink champagne by the gallon and it would have no effect whatsoever. She’d simply metabolize the alcohol as if it were water.

He placed his hands on her waist, lifting her so she sat on the countertop. “What’s your choice, Leisa?”

“What do you mean?” She frowned down at him, her glass poised halfway to her lips.

“Here, on the countertop?” He nudged her legs apart, stepping between them. He skimmed his palms over her thighs, inching up the thin fabric of her dress to reveal her wispy pink lace panties.

Her hand shook as she raised the glass to her lips and drank deeply.

“Or on the rug by the fireplace. I can imagine you lying naked on that rug.” He stroked her hips, his hands resting at the dip of her waist. He captured her gaze, held it until she set the glass aside, her entire focus on him and only him. As it should be.

“The settee is comfortable and versatile. It could be fun to drape you artistically upon it and take you.” His fingers moved lower to insinuate themselves beneath the waistband of her panties.

Her breath hitched. She jerked when he ripped them from her body.

He tossed them carelessly over his shoulder. “Of course, you haven’t even seen my bedroom yet. I have the most enormous bed.” Rez hooked her thighs over his shoulders and cupped her ass, drawing her lower body forward and tilting her pelvis to his liking.

“Though this,” he bent his head, inhaling her scent, blowing gently on the soft curls at the juncture of her thighs, “this is definitely to my liking.” He parted her labia with his thumbs, licked her glistening slit with a leisurely swipe of his tongue.

She twitched, thighs convulsing viselike about his neck.

“Oh, you like that do you?” He laved her hot little sex, his tongue circling her clit, teasing it awake. He pulled back slightly, just enough to watch the small bud engorge and flush with the evidence of her arousal. He approved of what he saw—her responsiveness to his demands. As a reward he suckled her, drawing her clit into the warm cavern of his mouth.

Her tight entrance convulsed and opened, inviting his invasion. He eased two fingers inside her, pressing deep, screwing her, mimicking the motion of a thrusting cock.

Leisa’s breaths were little more than pants, urging him to fulfill her, craving what only he could give her. Her cunt convulsed around his fingers. She pushed her mound against his mouth, demanded more.

With a last long wet lick of her sex, he removed his fingers from her body and straightened, easing her back until she lay prone on the countertop. Her tiny sob throbbed with desperation and loss.

He smiled—a feral, triumphant smile. He had her right where he wanted her. He could do anything to her now. Anything at all. “Tell me what you want, darling.”

She gazed up into his amber eyes, searching his face. Hers were wide and somber, glazed with a yearning that shredded his heart. “I want you. Inside of me. I want you to fuck me, Rez. I want to feel you come inside of me. Just for tonight I want you to help me forget. Can you do that for me? Please?”

Speechless—for once in his long and lonely existence completely lost for words—Rez could only nod. He’d give her what she wanted. It was, after all, what he secretly wanted, too.

“Here?” His voice cracked like an adolescent’s and he cleared his throat. “Here, Leisa? On the settee? On the floor? In my bedroom? Your wish is my command.”

She broke from his gaze. Her head lolled to one side and she stared out across the expanse of polished black granite, the pale delicacy of her cheek a stark and shocking contrast. “Here’s fine,” she whispered. I don’t deserve to be in your bed. If I were you I wouldn’t want a tramp like me sullying your sheets.

Her unspoken words, her deep shame, wiped away any satisfaction he might still have felt at his conquest. With a tenderness he had never showed another living being, he scooped her into his arms and strode from the kitchen.

“Where are you taking me?” she whispered, burrowing deeper into his embrace.

“To my bedroom. To my bed.”

“Why?”

“Because I want you there. Because you belong there.” He bent to kiss her cheek and was stunned to taste tears. When he licked them away, the salty essence of her tingled on his tongue.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Her gratitude hit him like a physical blow. Whatever had happened in her past had stolen her self-esteem and damaged her, made her less than she could be. Less than she deserved to be.

He mourned for her. He knew he’d do anything—give everything—to never have to hear that soul-destroying shame in her voice again. But as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t take it from her because she’d buried it deep, walled it away in an impenetrable mental fortress not even he could breach.

And it should have greatly concerned him he even wanted to try. She was human and he, Demon. She was a plaything, something to be toyed with and led astray—if possible corrupted for the sake of quotas, to preserve the balance of good and evil.

Leisa didn’t need him to point her in the direction of Hell. She’d already found the path herself. So why should he desire to fix her? Why should he want her to be happy?

She’d cast a spell over him. She was dangerous. He knew he should leave before she further ensnared him. If he didn’t, if he stayed, there could be Hell to pay.

She could be the death of him. And he didn’t give a fuck.

He wanted her and he was going to have her.

Even Demons Get the Blues: Chapter 6

Leisa could almost believe this to be a dream, a beautiful fantasy far, far removed from reality. If she blinked she feared she’d awake and find herself alone. Or worse, lying next to some stranger she could barely remember.

She blinked. Rez was still there. She was cradled tightly in his arms. He was no fantasy. He was incredibly real. And for tonight he was hers.

He bent and set her down on the edge of his huge bed as if she was some precious jewel instead of some piece of ass he’d picked up in a bar merely an hour ago. He knelt at her feet like a knight of old to undo the delicate buckles of her sandals and ease them from her feet. Who could have imagined such a mundane act could be so damnably sexy? Leisa quivered. She pressed her thighs together against the throbbing coil of sensation in her groin. She almost came right there and then.

He pulled her to her feet and with a practiced motion, tugged down the zipper of her dress and eased the garment from her shoulders. Then he divested her of her bra.

Leisa didn’t try to cover herself. The time for shyness had passed. He’d chosen her and it was only fair he got to see what he’d chosen. She hoped he was not disappointed in her. The flushing of her pale skin before his penetrating gaze was the sole evidence of her disquiet.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, reaching out to stroke the slope of her bare breast.

Outwardly, yes. Outwardly she was a classic beauty with curves in all the right places. Her stylist practically fainted with delight over her naturally curly auburn hair, and she’d been blessed with clear, pale skin. She’d been told she was beautiful many times. But beauty is as beauty does and inwardly, where it counted, Leisa knew she was ugly as sin. It surprised her every time she examined herself in a mirror that her appearance showed no sign of her true self. Corruption. Filth. It should be branded on her face for all to see.

She shrugged off her self-disgust and immersed herself in the present, in the heady anticipation of sex. “You’re beautiful, too,” she said to Rez, meaning it implicitly. He was beautiful in a wholly masculine way. His height, his strength, his physique, his handsome face all blended into a stunning, gorgeous whole that quite robbed her of breath.

She couldn’t wait to see him naked.

She went to him, busying her fingers with the buttons of his shirt, baring his chest. His musculature could only be described in one word: superlative. She traced his pecs, his abs, curled her fingers into the waistband of his trousers and tugged him closer, craving the intimacy of skin on skin. When he pulled her into his arms she settled against him, her body molding against his as though she’d been there before. As though she belonged there—with him.

If she believed in reincarnation she’d have thought they’d met in a former life—that they’d been lovers who’d lived and loved together, enjoying an intimacy Leisa could only imagine in her wildest dreams. A tiny wistful sigh escaped her lips.

“I know, my darling,” he murmured. “I feel the same. You belong here in my arms.”

How strange, she mused, for him to echo her thoughts exactly. Perhaps he truly could read her mind! What manner of man was he? She knew nothing about him except his name. And that she wanted him to fuck her.

Then all such wondering fled, replaced by shock when he swept her from her feet and tossed her on to the middle of his bed. Leisa squealed as she bounced, legs and arms flailing. When she’d regained control of her limbs, she back-pedaled until she hit the pillows and arranged herself in a comfortable sprawl, her pulse racing with anticipation of what he might do next. She eyed him hungrily beneath the sweep of her lashes, hoping he’d remove his clothes, needing to see whether his cock was as magnificent as it promised to be given the huge bulge in his pants.

He sauntered to the foot of the bed, his predatory, inherently graceful movements compelling her gaze. He shucked off his shirt and tossed it aside. He unbuckled his belt and dragged it free of his trousers, drawing the leather through his hand, contemplating first the belt and then her. Then the belt. He slapped the end into his palm and looked her right in the eyes.

Leisa’s breath caught. She pushed herself against the padded leather bed-head. “Uh, I don’t think so.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Baby, I won’t do anything you won’t like. I promise.” He dropped the belt, a secretive smile playing on his lips. “Maybe later.”

She heaved a relieved sigh that drew his intent gaze to her breasts. Her nipples puckered. Her body tingled as his gaze drifted over her, down her body to the tips of her toes and back up. Her skin flushed and burned in the wake of his visual caress. He locked eyes with her, demanding her full attention as he reached for the fly of his trousers.

She inhaled, holding her breath as he stripped off his pants and kicked them aside, standing before her naked. And very, very aroused. To call him well endowed was just plain understatement. The big thick cock boldly jutting from between his powerfully muscled thighs surpassed anything conjured by her fertile imagination.

She licked her lips, feeling the jolt of anticipation deep in her sex. Creaminess wept from her vagina, lubricating her folds, preparing her to take that hard male cock into her body.

Her heart thudded in her chest, pulse-rate soaring as he knelt on the edge of the bed and began to crawl toward her. She licked her lips, her legs moving restlessly.

When he reached her feet he grabbed her ankles, yanked her legs apart and bent her knees, pushing them upwards and outwards, opening her completely to his gaze. “What do you want me to do to you, baby? Tell me what you want.”

She shuddered as his hot breath teased her. “Suck me, Rez. Make me come.”

“It’ll be my pleasure.” He wrapped his arms around her upper thighs, holding her still as he tongued her folds, teased her clit with his tongue and his teeth, suckled her until she thrashed helplessly beneath him.

“Tell me, Leisa.”

“God!” She panted, lips parting as she gasped for air.

He stilled, forehead creasing, then whispered against her flesh, “Tell me.”

“Bastard!” she whimpered. “Fuck me with your fingers while you suck me.” She was so far gone, so immersed in sensation and wanting she didn’t even feel shame for what she asked or how she asked. He’d broken her down, reduced her to a mindless creature intent on her own gratification, demanding it.

He drilled two fingers into her sheath, pumping them in and out, suckling her clit, giving her exactly the rhythm she craved.

“Tell me what I’m doing to you, Leisa.”

He played her body. Like a maestro who knew and understood his instrument intimately, Rez knew just how to coax what he wanted from her. The sensation quickly became almost too much, too intense for her to stand. She bucked beneath his unforgiving grip, twisting, trying to break free from the sweet torture of his demands.

“Tell me.”

His insistence she tell him what she was experiencing attuned her intimately to her own body and turned her on even more. “You’re stretching me, stroking me with your fingers. You’re making me hot, making me burn… ahhhhh!”

He pumped his fingers harder, added a third, nibbled her clit, and stroked her swollen flesh with his tongue. “Tell me.”

“You’re… oh God! Rez! You’re making me come!” She clenched around his fingers, thighs and torso straining, reaching for release. He screwed his fingers deeply inside her, stroking her G-spot, applying just the right amount of pressure. As his wickedly clever tongue strummed her clit, her muscles wound ever tighter. She felt her pulse surge, her nerves thrum with something akin to an electrical charge, her brain flame with needing, yearning, wanting.

He lapped her pussy, suckled her harder, thrust his fingers deep inside of her and then.…

He nipped her clit.

She convulsed, hands reaching down to spear through his hair, holding him to her center, keeping him there—where she needed him to be. She screamed his name as her orgasm took her, a white-hot blaze of searing sensation that caught her up in its wild fire, consumed her and remade her anew.

He held her down while she shrieked and bucked, legs floundering, arms out-thrown. He brought her down from the throes of orgasm with the gentle warmth of his hand on her mound.

When she could breathe again he released her to crawl up her body and grasp her hips. He sat back on his heels, positioning himself at her still throbbing entrance. He entered her slowly, the head of his hard thick cock parting her folds as he pushed inside her and pulled her onto him. He stretched her, filling her with his width, impaling her on his length. Her slick flesh opened to him and enfolded him. His penetration seemed to go on and on. And on.

Then he halted. “Look at us, Leisa.”

Somehow she managed to control her limbs enough to lever herself onto her elbows. She looked down the length of her body, staring at where they were joined. Incredibly he’d not yet seated himself completely within her. His scrotum hung heavy between their bodies. Along with two more inches of him she had yet to take.

She shuddered. He already filled her completely. Her flesh clasped him virgin-tight. She was vulnerably open and wetly willing, but even after his attentive foreplay, not enough for him, unable to take him all in. Unable to satisfy him.

She flopped back on the bed, wishing she’d drunk more, longing to be drunk and out of her head so she wouldn’t have to see the disappointment on his face.

“You could never disappoint me, darling,” he said. “Feel me. Feel what I’m doing to you.” He pulled out of her, rubbing the tip of his cock over her cleft, stimulating her clit almost unbearably. Slippery cream leaked from her body, coating her labial lips and the head of his cock.

He leaned down to finger her, stroking his fingers through the moisture, the gorgeous sensation eliciting her moan. “Watch me tasting you.” She couldn’t look away as he licked her juices from his fingers. “Mmmmm, so delicious.”

She ached for him to fill her again. Her need for him to be inside of her burned through her blood, fizzed through her nerve-endings, tingled through the pleasure centers of her body. The sensations were intense, demanding, frightening—beyond anything she’d ever experienced before. “Rez. Please!”

“I know, baby, I know.” He grasped her thighs, slinging them over his shoulders, anchoring her to him with his cock as he entered her. As he screwed himself into her tight clasp, his amber eyes darkened with relentless purpose. “I’m not going to stop this time, baby. You’re going to take all of me. And you’re going to love it, I promise.”

She felt the burning stretching of her body accommodating him, the intensity of the sensation—pleasure combined with pain—making her whimper. He was right. She loved every minute of it. “How much more?” she gasped, wondering how she could bear to take any more of him but wanting more just the same.

He grinned down at her, raised eyebrows giving him a saturnine air. “You’ve taken nine inches, darling. Only one more to go.”

“Ten inches?” Leisa squeaked. The enormity of this knowledge spun about her brain. She already felt as though she was being cleaved in two. “I can’t… you won’t possibly fit!”

“Oh, yes you can. And I will.” He reached between their bodies to stimulate her clit as he drove himself deeper inside her. All the way.

Pleasure or pain?

Pleasure.

He rocked inside her. He pleasured her.

“How’s that, Leisa? How do I feel?”

The pulsing heat of his rigid length swelled inside her. She moaned. “Amazing. God! I’ve never felt anything like it.” She clenched her muscles around his cock, thrilling when he groaned.

“You’re so tight, baby, so very tight.” He withdrew almost to the tip and she cried out her loss. “Don’t worry. I haven’t finished with you yet.”

He began to thrust inside her, setting a slow, sensuous rhythm that drove her to needy whimpers. She ground her hips upward, meeting his every thrust, her own jerking faster, demanding to set the pace. “Faster. Fuck me faster.”

He gave in to her demands, holding her down, pounding into her. His balls slapped against her ultra-sensitized flesh until she surged upward, straining against his hold, grinding herself against him. “Ah! God, Rez!” She arched her back, clutched his shoulders and screamed her release, her strong inner muscles rippling around his cock, milking him mercilessly.

With a hoarse cry he followed her into orgasm, toppling into the abyss of sheer physical pleasure. He collapsed across her limp body, sated and breathing heavily, strangely exhausted. And stunned by the depth of his reaction to this damaged, soul-sick human woman who lay beneath him.

He cupped her face in his palms and stroked her hair from her damp, flushed face. She smiled at him, her pleasure shining in her emerald eyes. He’d never seen a human so beautiful. Even the stunningly gorgeous Beguiler females he’d known paled in comparison.

Rez kissed her long and deep, inserting a desire for sleep into her mind. He could barely remember how long it’d been since he’d had a human woman purely for the pleasure of it, and quotas be damned. His last such encounter might have been with Cassandra, whose mind he’d royally fucked over the instant he’d ejaculated inside of her. Poor thing had ended up with the gift of prophecy and because no one believed a word she uttered, she’d gone mad.

Demon gifts—unintentional or otherwise—invariably ended up warped and perverted. And Lucifer knew, Leisa’s life was already shitty enough. It had taken every ounce of will he possessed to protect her from him at the moment he’d released his essence inside of her, and now he felt curiously drained, as though she’d sucked all his vital energy from his body.

He needed to rest. He needed time to examine this experience in minute detail. But she somehow resisted his compulsion and kissed him back, wrapping her body around him. And her mind.

He felt her essence seeping into him, insidiously infusing his veins with everything she was. Before he could take steps to protect himself, he’d absorbed her—her hopes, her deepest desires. Her pain.

He knew her.

And unconsciously, instinctively, not knowing what it was she was doing, she began to draw knowledge from him. Desperately he fought her, exerted his will and battled her relentless desire to know all there was about him, to bond with him as no creature had dared attempt before. Finally his compulsion won out and sleep swept her away.

But it was too late. She had the knowing of him.

Amediel. My Amediel.

Still intimately linked to her mind and body, he heard his true-name echoing in Leisa’s mind as clearly as though she uttered it aloud.

Panic engulfed him. Countless ice-cold shards pierced his body, crystallizing around his heart. He unsheathed himself from her and flung himself from the bed, backing up until he hit the wall. All his senses heightened to preternatural alertness. His pupils dilated, elongated. His hands became talon-tipped claws. His body bulked, muscle mass increasing to battle-ready proportions, strength increasing tenfold. His skin became armored with iridescent scales, impenetrable by all human weapons save blessed steel. He crouched, coiled, tensed and poised to battle.

Rez trembled on the verge of fully transforming into his primary form and becoming Drakon, a form he hadn’t found it necessary to revert to since becoming a Beguiler. But Leisa threatened him. Not physically—no mere human could ever do him physical harm—but fundamentally, and his reactions were instinctive. Some part of him viewed the vulnerable weak human female he’d just fucked as if she’d suddenly morphed into the ultimate Demonic predator, a predator whose sole desire was to consume him as prey.

For the first time since he’d been a youngling, alone and struggling to survive, Rez felt that unwelcome clenching in his gut, that clammy sweat oozing from his pores, that tell-tale dryness of his mouth. Fear. True, paralyzing fear.

It took far too long for him to quell it. Even longer to prod his mind toward logical thought and finally let go of the pseudo-Drakon form he’d assumed.

He prided himself on being a creature that inspired fear, not one that succumbed to it, and he was appalled by his sudden vulnerability.

Leisa had named him Amediel, the name bestowed upon him at birth by some nameless elemental presence. The name that had blossomed in his mind the exact instant he’d burst from the egg. The name he’d struggled to be worthy of and finally earned in blood and pain and sacrifice. The name no other creature on Earth, Heaven or Hell knew. Not even his King.

He was Amediel, Bonecrusher, last of the Drakons.

And this fragile, inherently flawed human female had somehow wrenched the gift of his true-name from the innermost recesses of his powerful mind.

Amediel. She cried out to him in her sleep, reached for him with blindly searching hands, reached out to him again with her mind. He fielded her call, cloaking himself from her. And when she could not find him, she curled herself into a ball and whimpered piteously.

Lucifer save him. He could not deny her.

Rezon’s shields disintegrated. His essence—his soul—shattered into a trillion tiny pieces, each one shrieking Leisa’s name before melding together into a new, stronger whole.

Leisa. The mate he’d longed for. The human woman who’d captured his heart and made it her own.

He was damned. Hell, they both were.

Asmodeus was not going to be at all pleased.

Even Demons Get the Blues: Chapter 7

Asmodeus was not in any way, shape or form, pleased with the way this meeting was progressing, not that his Council members possessed enough smarts to notice. If they had scrutinized him closely they would have been able to read the signs. Nostrils flaring, jaw working when he ground his teeth. The occasional sardonic curl of his upper lip, the twitching of the muscle beneath his left eye. Fists clenching and relaxing as the Demon King imagined himself choking the breath from some unlucky being….

But the Council members were unaware. Or worse, perhaps they were too confident, too caught up in their own self-importance to heed subtle warning signs that their King had about reached his limit.

“My dear Councilmen!” How infuriating he should have to raise his voice to be heard! Asmodeus rose to his feet and slapped his palms on the slab of crimson-veined black granite that served as a meeting table. It quivered and moaned beneath his anger, and the chatter abruptly quieted. “I thank you for bringing these illuminating ideas to the table. Now if that is all, I have other matters to attend.”

Such as administering an ass-kicking to one particularly stubborn Drakon. And soon. Rezon’s little obsession was bound to be brought to the attention of the Council and once that happened, Asmodeus might not be able to haul his scaly Drakonic ass out of the fire.

Ornias, a Demon whose common name meant “harassment,” opened his mouth, evidently determined to live up to his name.

“Ah, Horny-ass.” Asmodeus sank onto his seat and tipped it back on two legs so he could place his booted feet on the table. “Why am I not surprised you have more to say? Very well, do enlighten me.”

The emaciated old Demon’s eyeballs bulged. His jaws opened and shut like a landed fish as he tried to master his outrage at the nickname.

His fellow Council members sniggered.

Ornias pulled himself together and began to whine his piece. “It has been brought to my attention that a certain Drakon Beguiler has lately been spending far too much time on the earthly plane, with very little to show for it.” He smiled ingratiatingly, his squinty little eyes glossy with malice. “If Rezon is no longer capable of fulfilling his quotas, I’d be more than happy to suggest an alternative assignment. In fact I have an opening—”

“I’m sure you do,” Asmodeus inserted silkily. And I’d be delighted if you’d put me out of my misery and stick your fucking ugly, scrawny damn head up it! “Knowing Rezon as I do, I’m sure he has an excellent explanation. You may leave it to me to talk to him. You are dismissed—all of you.”

Naamah had obviously ratted Rez out, damn the catty little bitch! Asmodeus managed by sheer strength of will alone to hold his temper until the last Council member had slithered from the room. When he was certain the last of their essences had dwindled to nothingness and he would not be overheard, he nonetheless took time to ward the room, weaving an impenetrable barrier impervious to Demonic influence.

Only then did he unleash his fury. “Rezon! Get your scaly fucking ass over here right now!”

The Demon King’s bellowed summons scoured Rez’s skull and made his fangs ache. The echoing force of it left him with a killer migraine that took several seconds to dispel. He glanced over at the unconscious woman in his bed and debated the wisdom of leaving Asmodeus to cool his heels while he transported Leisa to her home and tried to cover his tracks.

“I’m warning you. Don’t make me come down there!”

Rez winced. His King was seriously pissed. He didn’t need to be a superior being to know his ass was on the line. But if he didn’t wipe Leisa’s memories, if she awoke and escaped the apartment before he got back….

He entered her sleeping mind and encountered a problem that rocked his world. He could not tamper with her memories. She was completely open to him, on the surface completely vulnerable to his manipulations. But the deeper he delved, the more he wrestled with her brain functions and thought processes, the more perturbed he became. Each time he traced her memories of him to their source, sought to nip them in the bud and graft replacements, the elusive filaments slipped from his grasp.

Worse, at some level she knew he was there, inside her mind. He was forced to be constantly on the defensive because the tendrils of her memories centering around him continually wove themselves into a mental net and contrived to ensnare him.

“Gahhhh!” Aggravated beyond measure Rez withdrew from Leisa’s mind. He perched on the end of his bed, one hand absently stroking her bare calf as he regarded her with brooding eyes.

“You try my patience, Lizard.”

Rezon didn’t even flinch when his King’s voice intruded upon his ruminations. He’d been expecting him. He held up a cautionary hand. “Asmodeus, before you rip me a new asshole, please hear me out.”

The King audibly ground his teeth and swallowed a snarl. “This better be good, Rez. Naamah’s already bored me to tears about how you’ve been neglecting her, I’ve got those Council fuckwits on my case about you, and after the day I’ve had I’m spoiling for a fight. I’m on the verge of ordering you to my practice room so I can let off some steam by kicking your sorry ass into the stratosphere!”

“As always, you’re extremely welcome to try.”

Asmodeus grunted. “You can bet I will, Lizard. Later.”

Rezon exhaled in an audible release of tension. He broke contact with Leisa and stood, inclining his head as a mark of respect. “Thank you. And my apologies for not attending you immediately. My little playmate here is presenting me with a rather large problem I’m at a loss to solve.”

“Oh?” Asmodeus regarded the sleeping woman and seemed inclined to dismiss her as unimportant. “This little thing? She seems relatively unremarkable for a human.” His gaze bored into Rezon, flaying him with the same intensity that had often reduced lesser Demons to quivering blubbering masses.

Rez withstood the invasion, aware the sole being he called friend knew him well enough to be able to quickly discern the problem, despite the uniqueness of his Drakon physiology.

Asmodeus’s mobile eyebrows shot to his hairline. “Lucifer’s loins!” He glanced at Leisa, favoring her with a somewhat longer, far more intense examination this time. “Shit.”

“Yeah.” Rez scrubbed his hands through his hair. It was a true indication of his friendship with Asmodeus that he allowed his frustration and exhaustion to show. Any other Demon would consider it a sign of weakness, and many would use the opportunity to challenge him. “You realize what this means, don’t you?”

“You’ve bonded with her.” Asmodeus began to pace the floor, waving his hands about in his agitation. “How the fuck did that happen?”

“I have no idea. Somehow she got inside my head and took everything I had. She knows my true-name, Asmodeus. And now I can’t even wipe her memories. I think the bond’s preventing me from doing it. I am so screwed.”

“Don’t panic, old friend. Let me have a go.” The Demon King narrowed his eyes, concentrating fiercely on the sleeping woman. After merely seconds, a fine sheen of sweat beaded his brow.

Leisa moaned, low and thready. Distressed. She thrashed her limbs and tossed restlessly.

Rez’s hackles rose. “Asmodeus.” It was a warning. More than that, a promise. If Asmodeus damaged Leisa in any way, King or not, Rez would disembowel him and strangle him with his own guts.

The King held up a cautionary hand. “Bit busy right now!” His jaw tightened. His lips bared in a soundless snarl. He gave a strangled gasp that strangely reeked of pain. His golden skin paled, becoming ashen. A single drop of blood dripped from his left nostril and his tongue darted out, licking it from his upper lip.

Rez examined Leisa’s face closely. Whatever Asmodeus was attempting to do, she was putting up a Hell of a fight. She seemed to be holding her own but Asmodeus was not King of Demonkind because he’d won a popularity contest. His strength—both physical and mental—was legendary. And he was an evil, utterly ruthless bastard. He’d proved that to Rez many times over during their long acquaintance.

Rez knew this could only end badly for Leisa.

Fists clenched, he readied himself to step in and lay his King out cold on the floor. But his willingness to rush to Leisa’s defense proved unnecessary. Her lips curled upwards in what appeared to him to be a triumphant little smile.

At that same instant, Asmodeus abruptly broke the mind-to-mind connection. “Fuck me!” He leaned forward, head hanging and hands resting on his thighs as he panted.

Leisa’s eyelids fluttered, as though she was on the verge of waking. Rez laid a gentle hand on her chest, over her heart, soothing her back into unconsciousness. “And?”

“She fought me every step of the way. It’s a bloody death trap in there. I even tried to provoke an aneurysm and—”

“You did what?” Rez blazed.

“Oh, calm down. She’s only a human. You could have healed the damage and chances are she’d have been good as new.”

“Chances are?” A bloody red haze washed Rez’s vision. He dropped into a half-crouch, on the verge of a berserker rage, ready to fly at his King and tear him to pieces with his bare hands.

“Fifty-fifty chance she wouldn’t end up a drooling idiot. Pretty good odds, I thought.”

“I swear, Asmodeus, if you’ve damaged her I’ll—”

“She’s fine. So I’d suggest you quit with the threats, Rezon.” The King took a deep breath, held it, and finally released it with excruciating slowness. He appeared to be silently counting. “Do you want to hear what I found out or not?”

Given the deadly calm tone of the Demon King’s voice, he was rapidly running out of patience. Rez wouldn’t put it past him to rub his Kingly status in Rez’s face, and then Rez would have to kick his ass. He forced himself to embrace a semblance of calm. “Please, do continue.” He knew he sounded sarcastic but he, too, was running out of patience.

Asmodeus rolled his eyes ceiling-ward. “Temperamental bloody Drakons. No wonder your breed’s practically extinct. You’re too eager to get physical!”

Rez gifted his King with a steady uncompromising gaze capable of cutting glass. “Finished with the lecture?”

“For now.” When his King’s face split into a grin, Rez knew he was forgiven. “Now as I was saying, I tried to provoke an aneurysm and damned if she didn’t field it right back at me, the cunning little bitch. It hurt like forty bastards, I’m telling you!” Asmodeus flung himself into a chair and pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. “She fucking well drew blood! No human’s ever managed to bleed me. And no Demon, either, for that matter!”

“May I respectfully suggest your memory is faulty?”

“Eh?” Asmodeus blinked, taken aback.

“No Demon has ever managed to bleed you… except for me.”

Asmodeus’s gaze pinned him, but Rez just smirked until he waved a hand, conceding the point. “Yes, well. You came at me from behind without warning, which is cheating and it doesn’t count. My point is I haven’t come across that level of strength since you matured.”

The smirk slid from Rez’s face. “Hellfire and damnation. That’s exactly what I was afraid of. Through her connection to me she’s able to draw on my abilities. She may not be Drakon, but she can defend herself like one—mentally at least.”

“Mmmmm.” Asmodeus’s forehead creased with thought. He visibly brightened. “Easily fixed. Just embrace your Drakonic form and consume her. You’ll assimilate all the knowledge she’s gained from you as you chow down on her and when you digest her, the bond she carries inside her will be absorbed back into you.”

Rezon puffed out a rueful half-laugh. “You really are a ruthless prick, aren’t you?”

Asmodeus grinned and buffed his fingernails on his shirt. “Yep. But you gotta admit, it’s a damn fine solution.”

“Hate to burst your little bubble of self-congratulation, but it’s not quite that simple. According to what little I know about Drakonic bonding, if she dies there’s a good chance I’ll die, too, and I’ll feel and experience everything she feels while she’s dying.”

Asmodeus scratched his chin. “So if you eat her it’ll be like you’re eating yourself?”

Rez nodded.

The King shuddered, rubbing some unseen chill from his arms. “Even for a ruthless prick such as me that’s just plain revolting. So basically you can’t take her memories, she’s connected to you somehow, and she knows your true-name.”

“That about sums it up.”

Asmodeus rose from the chair and walked over to Rez. His countenance was more serious than Rez had ever seen it in all the time he’d personally known the King. He clouted Rez on the back in a manner that left a bloody great bruise but was actually meant to console. “You, my friend, are screwed.”

“Yeah. I kinda got that.”

“And I discovered something else rather significant about this pretty little human female you’ve been fucking.”

Rez’s head snapped up. His gaze examined the King’s normally inscrutable face, searching for answers. He didn’t like what he saw and sensed he was going to like what Asmodeus had to say even less.

“Malphas added her to his quota about five years ago,” Asmodeus said. “Under his influence she murdered her brother-in-law, and she’s headed straight for Malphas’s nasty little corner of Hell. According to his timetable, she’s got three more days before he comes for her.”

Even Demons Get the Blues: Chapter 8

Rez paced the room, trying to examine his feelings about Leisa’s imminent death sentence. Malphas was a Destroyer Demon, a member of one of the more vicious units interacting with humans. Destroyers chose a victim and amused themselves by manipulating their lives and the lives of those around them. They bided their time, watching and waiting for some pivotal moment in their victim’s life, at which time they temporarily stripped the human of a conscience. Once deprived of the built-in safeguard that might conceivably prevent the human giving in to the desire to commit some heinous act, most succumbed to the trap. Not all, but most.

And Leisa had been one of those who had succumbed. She’d murdered her sister’s husband and her guilt had been slowly eating her alive.

Now that Rez knew Malphas had tampered with Leisa, he could see it inside her and read what had spurred her to such an act. She’d had a powerful motivation, true, but it stunned him to the core that such an inherently gentle and vulnerable woman could have killed a family member. And in such a way.

Asmodeus—the bloodthirsty prick—was titillating himself by replaying the murder, and despite Rez’s distaste for such entertainments, his eyes were drawn to the vivid holographic images. Given the Demon King’s abilities, Asmodeus had conjured a graphic replay so realistic it was almost the same as being there at the scene, watching it unfold. Rez was also treated to a view inside this holographic version of Leisa’s head. He could watch her actions, read her thoughts and understand what drove her.

It was half-four on a Friday afternoon. A sparkling happy Leisa, brimming with a love of life, as yet unsullied by murder or guilt or despair, had just let herself inside her sister’s house.

Leisa’s sister and brother-in-law were both still at work and Leisa had left the office early, intending to take Annie, her fourteen-year-old niece, to a chick-flick playing at the local cinema. Annie had been uncharacteristically withdrawn and moody as hell for the past few months. She’d refused to confide in her mother, so Leisa had been co-opted to try and discover what might be bothering her.

Leisa walked into the living room. “Annie? You ready to go?” A muffled thump from upstairs made her grin. Doubtless her niece was trying on yet another outfit and parading before her mirror. The girl owned more clothes than her aunt and mother combined!

Leisa climbed the stairs and proceeded down the hall to Annie’s bedroom. She paused, hand outstretched toward the slightly ajar door, when she heard a voice she recognized—saying words she’d never thought to hear. Disgusting words. Degrading, hateful words.

Quietly Leisa inched open the door, dreading what she knew she would see.

She stood frozen in the doorway watching her brother-in-law having sex with his own daughter. He held Annie down while he raped her—and it was rape. Given Annie’s tears, the anguish twisting her pretty face, her teeth clamped tightly together so she wouldn’t voice her pain, there was nothing consensual about this perverted little tableau of father-daughter togetherness. It was all about dominance and control.

Horrified and sickened, Leisa flew across the room and with strength she hadn’t known she possessed, dragged him off Annie and threw him to the floor. He crawled to his feet, one hand fumbling with his pants, the other outstretched to Leisa. His eyes were wide with guilt and something else. Anger.

Anger at—?

Being caught.

He was pissed he’d been caught!

His features slid into a sly, calculating expression that chilled Leisa’s heart. He took a step toward her, and without even considering her actions, Leisa whirled. She grabbed the heavy lampshade from the bedside table and smashed it over his head. He dropped heavily to the floor, blood leaking from his ear.

Annie burst into gut-wrenching howls.

Leisa ignored her.

If she hadn’t, if she’d reached out to console and comfort her niece, she might have eventually recovered from the encounter. Her brother-in-law was still alive—albeit seriously injured. Even if he’d died as a result of her blow, she might have been able to forgive herself, to convince herself she was defending both herself and Annie.

She’d heard people talk of seeing red, of being so incensed, so furious, they momentarily viewed their world through a haze of bloody anger. She’d read newspaper reports of people accused of murder claiming temporary insanity, claiming they had no control over their actions.

She’d never thought she might wish to be in that position.

Unfortunately she truly wasn’t overcome by bloodlust or overwhelmed by an insane rage at this moment, even though her lawyer would later claim them in her defense. As Leisa stood over the man her sister loved, all compassion and emotion had been wrung from her heart. He might as well have been pond scum for all he moved her.

In a stunning burst of clarity, Leisa knew what she had to do. It made perfect, logical sense. Her brother-in-law was a predator. There was no place in her sister’s life—or Annie’s—for a man like him.

“Hush, Annie,” Leisa said, without so much as looking at the girl. Her cold, unemotional voice doused Annie’s hysterical cries, reducing them to mere hiccups. “How long?”

“S-six months,” her niece whimpered.

“Does your mother know?”

“N-no. D-Dad made me p-promise not to tell anyone.”

Leisa prodded her victim’s limp form with her toe. “I wouldn’t call him ‘Dad’ if I were you,” she informed her niece in an eerily calm, hushed voice. “He doesn’t deserve it.” She allowed the lamp to slip from her fingers. She didn’t need it as a weapon any more. She had others to use—other far more appropriate, personal weapons.

“Close your eyes and turn away, Annie. Promise me you won’t look.”

“O-okay, Aunty Leis. I promise.”

Leisa knew exactly what she was doing as she drove her foot over and over again into his ribs, his stomach, his groin. She’d make certain he was incapable of preying upon any young girl again. She was completely aware of the consequences of her actions as she continued to administer her chosen punishment until at last Annie’s whimpers became too much to endure any longer.

Squatting, she took his wrist. His pulse stuttered beneath her fingers. He was hanging on to life by a thread. His internal injuries were horrific. He wouldn’t last much longer.

“Okay, Annie. It’s over now.” Knowing it was far too late, she picked up the phone and dialed 911.

By the time medics arrived, he was dead.

She’d killed him. And still she felt nothing. No guilt, no sorrow, no secretly gleeful joy. No fear.

When the cops came with their questions and demands for the truth, Leisa told them everything and simply let them draw their own conclusions.

***

Asmodeus fast-forwarded through the scenes for a while longer until he lost interest. He waved his hand and the holographic images dissipated. “Points to Malphas for making such an excellent choice!”

Rezon glared at his King. “I don’t give a flying fuck how marvelous you think Malphas is at the moment. All I care about is figuring a way to extricate Leisa from his clutches and making sure she doesn’t die and take me along with her for the ride.”

Asmodeus rubbed his chin. “It’s not all doom and gloom, Rez. When the woman dies her soul will be given to Malphas—which sucks for her but that’s death. However, Malphas might be so impressed by her he’ll create a body for her soul and make her one of his minions. She’ll actually become a lesser Demon.”

Rez rolled his eyes. “I’m well aware of that, Asmodeus. And presuming you actually have one, your point is?”

“I’m getting to it, you impatient shit-head. And my point is, if you actually do end up being dragged along with her into death, it may not simply be all over Rover for you, either. Your essence is strong, Rez. Chances are you’ll be reborn a Drakon. Then you and your little fuck-buddy can live miserably ever after. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“Might? If? May? Can you be any more vague?”

Asmodeus shrugged. “Can’t say I’ve ever come across a Drakon bonding with human before, let alone a human tagged by a Destroyer. Only Lucifer would know for sure what’ll happen to you, and I’m not about to beg a favor and ask him. Not even for you, my friend. I’ve got enough on my plate at the moment with the Council and—”

“And I’d commend my black soul to oblivion before willingly putting myself through all that again. Being reborn as the last surviving Drakon truly would be Hell.”

“Oh, come on!” Asmodeus nudged Rez with his elbow. “It can’t have been that bad.” Something in his friend’s eyes made the Demon King want to take back his hasty words. “It really was—is—that fucking bad?”

Rez didn’t deign to respond. He simply bowed his head, a tacit invitation for his King to take the knowledge from his mind.

Asmodeus sank into Rezon’s consciousness, absorbing all the thousands of years of the Drakon’s existence in mere seconds.

“Fucking Hell!” The Demon King lurched back from Rez, both hands clutching his stomach, trying to keep it together. He sucked in shallow panting breaths, swallowed the bile flooding his mouth and called upon all his considerable will. It was more good luck than good management he didn’t spew his guts all over Rez’s snazzy bedroom décor, which wouldn’t have been good form at all.

When Asmodeus had himself completely under control, he dared look into his friend’s eyes. What made it all the more astounding was not one indication of the despair, the misery, the pain Rezon had endured for so long was evident—not even to Asmodeus’s particular brand of scrutiny. On the surface the Drakon appeared to be as incredibly powerful and self-contained as he always did.

And as if his King hadn’t just reamed his brain and laid all his secrets bare—not to mention almost tossed his cookies after doing so—Rezon continued to batter Asmodeus with his unsettling confessions. “And I’d rather this woman not suffer further. What she did to her sister’s husband was totally understandable, but even if it hadn’t been, she was more than willing to pay the price for killing him before a jury of her peers. What disgusts me is that she never got a chance to find redemption in whatever punishment was meted out to her by the human court. Instead, Malphas stepped in and influenced everyone involved so all charges were summarily dropped.”

Asmodeus would have been greatly reassured to see evidence of Rezon holding his fiery temper in check. Even better would be having the Drakon’s masterful hold over his emotions shatter so Asmodeus could kick back and watch him do his utmost to destroy the room in a fit of rage.

That, Asmodeus could have coped with.

This resigned weariness evidenced in Rezon’s voice, his posture, his lack of expression—this, Asmodeus did not know how to react to.

“The precious little bastard was too fucking greedy to let events run their course,” Rez was saying. “He couldn’t risk her being punished, having to live with what she’d done, and perhaps learning how to forgive herself. Oh no. Perish the uncertainty of gambling on a human’s free will. It’s all about quotas now, so Malphas couldn’t risk letting her get away. He had to make sure she was a sure thing. He’s a fucking coward and he’s not the only one. If this is what Hell has been reduced to, I want no part of it. I’d rather face oblivion. And I’d rather Leisa face oblivion than risk her being reborn Demon. If that happens and I do survive her death, I’ll make it my personal mission to obliterate her and put her out of her misery, I swear it. And then I’ll find away to obliterate myself and ensure I’m never reborn. That I also swear by Lucifer’s black soul.”

Asmodeus’s jaw dropped. He could not believe what he was hearing. He opened his mouth to tell Rezon to buck his ideas up and stop being such an ass, but he was preempted by a sibilant voice. A voice capable of making even the Demon King cringe with fear.

“Be careful what you swear by, Rezon.”

Rezon’s head snapped up to search the room. His eyes flashed with eagerness. “Bring it on, Lucifer. I find myself increasingly weary of this sham I call my existence. Perhaps you would oblige me by ending it.”

Asmodeus bit his lip to keep from protesting aloud his friend’s unsubtle desire to commit suicide. Other than He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named-For-Fear-Of-Inflicting-A-Truly-Stellar-Migraine-Upon-Oneself, only Lucifer possessed the power to obliterate a Demon of Rez’s age from existence. A fact that Rez knew well.

The Demon King experienced a strange, somewhat rare twinge in the depths of his heart. The feeling could even be strong enough to be termed sadness, an emotion he’d not felt since he’d exiled his consort, Lilith. She’d been a manipulative, deceitful bitch. But she’d been his manipulative, deceitful bitch. And he missed her—although he’d rather claw out his own eyes than admit it.

He’d miss Rezon, too.

Lucifer’s laugh echoed throughout the room, its sheer malevolence raising the fine hairs on the back of Asmodeus’s neck and arms. Hell’s teeth! What he wouldn’t give to be able to emulate that laugh. Maybe one day. In a few more millennia, if he practiced diligently.

“Do not think to goad me into rash actions, Rezon. You are the last of the Drakon breed. Obliterating you and all you represent would cause repercussions even I am not prepared to risk.”

Rezon’s big, eminently capable body visibly sagged as if all the fight had gone out of him.

“Despair not, Drakon, for We have discussed your plight and it has been decided you will be given a chance to attain what you think you most desire.”

The hope Asmodeus saw burgeoning in Rezon’s eyes physically pained him. The Prince of Hell was not referred to by humans as the Prince of Lies for no reason. This could be a trick designed to lure Rezon to his own destruction. And there was nothing Asmodeus could do to warn him.

“How?” Rezon barely breathed the question, but it was imbued with all the power and potency of his breed. It hung in the air, coiled and poised, promising to unleash havoc.

“If the human woman you know as Leisa is released from the Demon Malphas’s influence,” Lucifer’s disembodied voice continued, “and if you succeed in winning what you desire most in this life and the next, then you and she will be allowed to continue your lives as Destiny intends—however that might be.”

“But—” Rez began.

“It is done.” Lucifer’s presence vanished.

“Bastard!” Rez railed. “Would it have killed you to give one of your children a straight answer for once?”

Asmodeus stared at Rez, his mouth forming a wide, incredulous O. His jaw worked silently, and for the first time since Rez had known him, he seemed completely incapable of speech.

Rez glanced down at himself. Nothing had changed. Or nothing that he could see. He performed an internal scan and was surprised to come up with a mental blank.

Asmodeus had finally found his voice and the Demon King’s strangled gasp commanded Rezon’s instant attention. “What the Hell is wrong with you?”

“Fuck me sideways!” the King moaned, collapsing into the chair and fanning his face. “As if this whole situation isn’t shitty enough already, He’s made you human.”

Even Demons Get the Blues: Chapter 9

Leisa woke with a harshly indrawn breath, her skin clammy, her heart pounding. She’d been plagued by nightmares worthy of an X-Files episode. She’d dreamed of alien presences in her mind, delving into her intrinsic secrets, trying to capture her soul and bend her to their will. She recalled male voices speaking of people with bizarre names. Conversations involving humans and demons. Obliteration and oblivion. Damnation and death.

And worse than those unsettling, chilling recollections had been something that seemed so much more than merely some vivid dream. So much more.

There’d been a voice. She didn’t know whether it was male or female—it possessed an asexual quality that made it impossible for her to discern which. But male, female or other, that voice had blanketed her soul with a pervading sensation she could only describe as evil, though ‘evil’ was far too insipid a word. She couldn’t remember what the voice said and instinctively knew she didn’t want to. But even now, fully awake and knowing she was safe from harm, the faintest memory of that voice affected her so profoundly she trembled. And could find no solace until his strong arms scooped her up and pulled her onto his lap and against his chest.

“Rez! S-sorry.” Teeth chattering, she shivered in his embrace. “I m-must have f-fallen asleep.”

“Shhhh,” he soothed, rubbing her back. “It’s okay, I’m here. You must have had a nightmare.”

She should have risen from the bed the moment she woke. She should have collected her clothes and made her escape. Bad enough that Rez wasn’t collapsed over his bed sound asleep. She had to face him before she could leave, and now she was allowing him to comfort her. Leisa knew the intimacy of this situation would only extend the awkwardness, but she was so terrorized by her nightmares she wanted more than anything to be held in his arms—just for a little while.

She wished she could stay there….

She couldn’t. She didn’t deserve to be comforted.

When his touch and his caring and the scent of his warm male body had dispatched her fears, she stirred, pushed his hands away and climbed from his lap. She kept her eyes downcast as she searched for her clothes. She wouldn’t let herself look at him. It’d just make leaving more painful. “Thanks. I should go.”

“Why?”

His question startled her. Men who picked her up in sleazy bars and brought her home to fuck didn’t ask that question. They were merely relieved when she departed without fuss. Some had even gone so far as to shake her from her drunken stupor, shove her clothes in her face and show her the door. “I need to get home and—”

“And what?” he demanded. “Have a shower? Wash your hair? Wash the smell of me from your body? Try your utmost to forget me?”

He sounded so irritated, so royally pissed, that she was provoked into raising her head, brushing her hair from her eyes and facing him directly. “What’s your problem? You picked me up in a bar, took me home and screwed me. We had a nice time. Now I’m going home. Alone. End of story.”

At some stage during her slumber he’d pulled on thin cotton drawstring pants. And nothing else. Even so, when he stood to confront her, he was fierce and dangerous as some dark warrior from a bygone era.

But no warrior conjured from Leisa’s imagination could ever have gazed upon her with such stark desolation shadowing his beautiful amber eyes.

“We had more than just a ‘nice’ time. We had a fucking amazing time. We had fucking amazing sex. We have a fucking amazing connection. Can’t you feel it?”

She snatched her bra from the floor and donned it, feeling strangely awkward doing so without first putting panties on. Not that she’d have been able to wear her panties anyway—not after he’d ripped them from her body. No. She would not think about that. She would not!

She threw her dress over her head and only when she was clothed and armored against him did she respond. “No, I don’t feel a connection. I don’t feel anything.”

She snatched up her shoes and had turned to walk from the room when he exploded into motion. He grabbed her, and before she could so much as squeak, hauled her against him and took her mouth in a kiss so desperate, so powerfully infused with his desire for her, she could barely breathe.

Despite her resolve to slink away and leave him, to excise him from her life as pitilessly as she did all the men she fucked, she responded to him. In her vulnerability, in her weakness, she poured everything she felt for him—everything she couldn’t admit, couldn’t say to his face—into her kiss. It was her way of telling him goodbye.

When his punishing mouth softened against hers, when his grasping hands relaxed and began to coax rather than imprison, she placed her hands on his shoulders. She moved into position and in one swift, calculated movement, kneed him hard in the groin and darted away.

He slid to the floor. His groaning imprecation was the last thing she heard as she whirled and ran from the room.

She fled his apartment, slamming the door behind her. She didn’t wait for the elevator. She took the stairs. And it was a miracle she didn’t fall and break her neck given the fact she could barely see for tears.

***

“Fuck.” Rez climbed to his feet, clutching himself and trying not to retch. Spots danced before his eyes. It took far too much time before he could think his way through the agony of his bruised balls. The predator in him could almost have admired Leisa for sucking him in so cleverly before taking him out, if he hadn’t been in so much bloody pain.

And despite his loss of his Drakon abilities, he was damned sure she hadn’t been pretending when she kissed him. The kiss they’d shared had been honest, raw and powerful.

Damn the woman. Maybe he should let her go and take his chances. This bonding crap was hazardous to more than just his health. It was doing his bloody head in!

He dragged himself into the living room. Even though he knew she’d gone, he had to see it with his own eyes. “What the Hell am I going to do now?”

He didn’t expect an answer. To his surprise he got one. “Get your sorry ass into gear, you overgrown lizard. She’s got no cash so she’s walking home. If you pull finger you’ll catch her at the corner by that coffee joint you haunt. Move it or lose it, shit for brains! By the way, you owe me big-time for keeping your apartment, along with everything you’ve got in it, intact. Ta ta!”

Rez grinned and gave silent thanks for the unexpected assistance. It hadn’t occurred to him to worry about his demonically constructed apartment, cleverly created to straddle the cusp of the human and Demon worlds. It should have vamoosed along with his powers and every other little human luxury he took for granted. He hoped Asmodeus didn’t get shit for helping him, but right now, he didn’t much care. The Demon King could take care of himself and later, he’d doubtless extract a penance.

Later could take care of itself. Now Rez had a woman to pursue.

Even so, he took a moment to grab a packet of frozen vegetables from his freezer, judiciously applying them to his blue balls as he limped down the hallway. “Aw, Hell that’s good.” He practically whimpered as the icy cold began to numb his bruised bits.

The instant the elevator doors opened at ground level, he abandoned his cold pack, ignored the pain and took off at a run. All right, more of a lopsided lope.

His attire—or rather the transparency of his fine linen pants—caused a bit of a furor amongst the Sunday morning pedestrians as he pounded down the pavement, bare feet slapping and ten inches of dangly man-parts whipping from side to side. He ignored the catcalls and wolf-whistles, keeping his mind focused on the prize.

He caught Leisa at the intersection. She’d hailed a cab and was trying to coax the jaded driver into taking her home, despite the glaringly obvious fact she had no purse and not a dollar on her person. The guy just wasn’t buying it.

“Don’t waste yer breath, honey. I’ve heard it all an’ then some, right?”

“But I’ve got cash at home,” she wheedled. “It’s in my purse. I just don’t have enough with me because—”

“I was supposed to be taking her home,” Rez said, looming over her and pinning the cabbie with a hard-eyed look. “Except I changed my mind and she’s not going home. My bad. Sorry for wasting your time.”

The cabbie craned his neck to look up at Rez. He blinked, swallowed, pulled his head back inside and floored the pedal. The cab lurched into motion with an impressive squeal of tires.

Leisa rounded on Rez, arms akimbo, eyes flashing her fury. “What the hell do you think you’re playing at?”

“I’m not playing at anything. Look, I don’t want you to leave—not like this. And there’s something you don’t know about me. Will you come back to my apartment and hear me out? Please?” He waited, chewing his lower lip, wondering what he’d do if she took off.

None of his powers were available to aid him. He might well be bigger and stronger, but if he had to get physical she’d give him a run for his money—as his still-throbbing balls attested. He could not even cast a convenient glamour to fuzz the vision of anyone who might witness him carrying her off to his lair.

As a Drakon, he’d have been able to read her as easily as an open book. He’d have been able to manipulate her, tell her everything she wanted to hear. As a Drakon, he could have tossed her over his shoulder and done with her as he pleased.

But he was not Drakon—at least, not until the time period Lucifer had decreed was up. It was now Sunday morning and he had until Tuesday to save Leisa’s soul. If he didn’t save her, he’d probably die with her. As a human. And if that was to be his fate, he wanted to spend every last waking hour with her.

Unfortunately he was flying blind and had not the slightest idea how she’d react to his request. If she said no….

She huffed a defeated sigh. Her shoulders slumped with what he imagined might be exhaustion.

“All right. It’s not like I have anything better to do. And hey, it’s not like you turned out to be a pervert or a rapist, so what have I got to lose?”

Merely your life and your soul, Rezon thought. And mine. “Thank you.” Exhaling a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, he held out his hand. And was rewarded with lightness and warmth suffusing the region of his heart when she took it. If such a pleasant feeling could come from the mere holding of a woman’s hand, perhaps being human had its compensations.

And what would sex be like? If he did this right, he’d have a chance to find out!

He squeezed her hand, tucking her in to his side as he’d done when he’d first picked her up and walked her out of the bar. Last night. Shit! Mere hours ago. It seemed an entire lifetime.

Was this what it meant to be human? The hours passing and lives changing irrevocably in the blink of an eye? How desperate they must be to wring every bit of pleasure they could from their transient lives. Little wonder humans were so susceptible to the temptations Demonkind dangled before them.

Rez escorted a silent Leisa to his building and up to his apartment. The front door was ajar—exactly as he’d left it.

“Jesus, Rez!”

He instinctively cringed, but when no pain seared his eyeballs, he threw back his head and laughed with sheer delight.

“It’s not funny,” she told him. “Anyone could have gotten in while you were chasing me down. Don’t you have enough sense to lock the damn door?”

“Apparently not.” Cued by her unease, he made her wait by the door while he checked for intruders. “All clear. Come in.” He padded to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. “Are you hungry?” I wonder.…

Did he dare say it? Nothing ventured, nothing gained. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. “God, I could murder some bacon and eggs right now.” Wait for it…. Nothing. No bolt from on High. He smirked. Excellent! Another perk of being human—he could even take the Lord’s name in vain. He grabbed what he needed from his thankfully well-stocked refrigerator and laid out the ingredients on the counter.

Clearly exasperated, Leisa threw the deadbolt on the front door and walked over to the settee. “Just coffee for me, thanks,” she said.

With an undue amount of care that struck Rez as odd, she lowered herself onto the cushions and arranged herself rather primly, he thought. Until his gaze was caught by a scrap of pale pink lace lying on the kitchen floor.

Her panties.

Despite his bruised and aching balls, his cock twitched. He eyed her speculatively, wondering how she’d react if he strode over to her, pushed her back on the settee, raised her dress and began feasting on those plump, pouting lower lips. Maybe he’d scotch the cooked breakfast and have her for breakfast instead. His cock stood to attention. His flesh sure was willing, but his brain wasn’t so ready to admit it was a good idea. Especially not when his gaze strayed to her face and he absorbed the fatigue and strain written there.

Rez obeyed his brain and manfully ignored his cock-stand. He set up the coffeemaker and concentrated on frying his cholesterol-laden breakfast.

“So?” Leisa said.

“So, what?”

“What do you have to say that’s so darned vital?”

“Can it wait till I’ve finished cooking? I’m only a man, and by all reports we’re not much good at multi-tasking. I’d hate to burn my bacon.”

A smile tugged at the corners of her luscious mouth. “Fine. Are you sure you can manage a decent coffee, then, or would you prefer me to do it for you?”

“Oh,” Rez flipped the bacon, dancing back when the fat splattered, “I think I can manage.”

“Amazing,” she said with a slightly sarcastic edge when he brought over a tray and dumped it on the coffee table.

“What? This? It’s merely bacon and eggs—nothing too taxing. How do you take your coffee?”

“Black with one sugar. And I meant amazing you didn’t burn yourself.” She indicated his bare chest.

Rez waggled his eyebrows. “I’m skilled. What can I say?” He handed over her coffee cup before sitting on the floor next to her feet. “This is really good,” he said, shoveling food into his mouth. “Sure you don’t want some?”

She shook her head, shifting restlessly on the settee.

He stroked her bare calf, enjoying the sensation of her smooth skin beneath his fingers. “Relax.”

She bent to place the coffee cup on the table and regarded him with serious eyes. “Spill it, Rez. Enough pussyfooting round and playing happy little house-husband, okay? I’m so not in the mood.”

He removed his hand, aware the time for prevarication had passed. “Fine. Do you want the long version or the short version?”

She tensed, drawing slightly back from him, creating distance. Her unease spilled out, painfully obvious even to his un-enhanced senses. “The short version.”

He levered himself onto the settee, swiveling to sit cross-legged facing her. “Okay, I’ll give it to you straight. I’m Drakon—the last of my kind, actually. And last night, when we fu… ah… had sex, we bonded. Now you’re the sole being in existence who knows my true-name, which is just so mind-blowing on so many levels I can’t tell you. If that’s not freaky enough, this bad-ass Demon called Malphas tinkered with your conscience so you’d be more inclined to off your brother-in-law when you discovered his nasty little vice. Which you did, unfortunately, so now you’re damned and Malphas owns your soul—which he’ll be collecting Tuesday at the stroke of midnight. And there’s a good chance that because of our bond, when you shuffle off this mortal coil I’ll follow you and no-one’s actually sure what’ll happen to me after that. Oh, and for some perverted reason of his own, Lucifer’s made me human, which is going to make it even more fucking difficult to save you.” He crossed his arms over his chest and grimaced at the remains of his breakfast, his appetite gone. “Yeah. I think that about covers it.”

Leisa’s eyes were huge fathomless pools in her pale face. She blinked at him. “Are you insane?”

“Nope.”

She rubbed her arms and inched back from him until she hit the arm of the settee. “Well, if you’re not insane, then what the hell are you?”

“I told you, Drakon.”

“Which is?”

“What you humans might term a dragon. One of the most powerful Demon breeds in Hell.”

Leisa gave a choked cry and sagged back against the settee, gasping for breath.

Even Demons Get the Blues: Chapter 10

Hellfire! Rez crawled over to her prone form, his body quivering with fear. His heart quite literally beat a thunderous staccato in his chest. Had Asmodeus lied about the timetable for Leisa’s death? Was Malphas taking her right now, before his very eyes?

He reached for her and jerked back as if she’d grown fangs and taken a chunk out of him.

Tears of silent laughter streaked her cheeks. She took one look at the consternation marring his face, rolled her eyes and curled up in a tight ball of shaking mirth.

Rez grabbed her and unrolled her, limb by limb. He stretched her out and lay across her body, imprisoning her chin and forcing her to look at him. “What. Is. So. Fucking. Funny?”

“A dragon demon? You?” She heaved a hiccupping breath. “Oh, please! You’re nuts!”

“I am not insane.”

“Then show me some of your demon-stuff. Do something scary and frightening. Prove it.”

“I can’t. I told you, Lucifer’s made me human.”

“Right. How awfully convenient. So where’s the camera, huh? This is all some twisted reality show, right? You pick up gullible little old me in a bar and then try to convince me you’re a demon. Good one!” She batted at him and tried to buck him off, but he refused to budge.

“I only wish it were a practical joke,” he said, thumbing the moisture from her cheeks. “In all the time I’ve been watching you, I’ve never once seen you laugh. And it pains me that now, when your soul is at stake, you finally find something to laugh about.”

She stilled beneath him, humor fleeing as his words sank in. “You’ve been watching me? For how long?”

“For the past year.”

“You fucking pervert!”

Rez found his hands full of a hissing, spitting, biting bundle of femininity Hell-bent on doing him injury. One knee worked its way up between his legs but he was wise to that one now and merely squeezed her knee between his rock-hard thighs. “Will you cut that out? You’ll do me a serious damage if you whack me in the balls again. I’m telling you the truth, Leisa!”

She screeched an imprecation in his ear.

“Flaming Hell! This is—”

“Not going well for you at all, is it, Rez?”

The voice issued from the massive mirror he’d attached to the wall where most might hang an LCD screen. The mirror’s surface shimmered and Asmodeus’s blindingly handsome visage shone forth. “I thought you had a reputation for being able charm anything vaguely resembling a female.”

Rez looked up and copped a flailing elbow in his face. “Yeeeeow!” He clapped both hands over his nose and rolled off Leisa onto the floor. “Evidently not this female!” he muttered. He wiped his nose with the back of a hand and, feeling wetness, could only stare at the blood smearing his skin.

Asmodeus laughed uproariously. “The little Hellcat sure got you a good one! Better put a towel on that or you’ll drip red stuff all over your nice white rug. Are you absolutely sure she’s the one for you?”

“I’m beginning to wonder,” Rez groused. “Keep an eye on her for me, will you?” He climbed to his feet and lurched toward the bathroom.

Leisa pushed herself up on her elbows to gape at the mirror. “I remember your voice from last night! Who the hell are you?”

“Asmodeus, King of Demons, at your service.” He winked at her. “Mmmmm, lovely pussy, by the way, but might be best if you covered yourself before Rez gets back in here. Not that I mind the show, my dear, but Drakons have been known to vastly overreact when it comes to others perving at a mate’s intimate body parts.”

“Ooooh!” Leisa tugged down her dress, flushing hotly from her toes to the roots of her hair.

“I suppose he ripped them off in the heat of passion and then didn’t have the decency to conjure you up another pair. Typical. Selfish prick.”

“Who’s a selfish prick?” Rez asked as he re-entered the living room, having stanched the blood-flow from his nose.

“You are, you overgrown lizard. For not whipping her up another pair of panties so she had to wander round bare-assed. It’s hardly gentlemanly.”

Rez snarled at his King before favoring Leisa with an apologetic grimace. “Sorry. I should have thought about it this morning.”

“Rather than lending her a pair of yours,” Asmodeus said, “which just wouldn’t do it for me, just this once I’ll step up.”

A pair of pink lacy panties dropped lightly in Leisa’s lap.

She held them up. They were an exact match for her bra and identical to the ones Rez had ripped from her body last night. She wrung the gossamer-thin material in her hands, staring from Rez to the figure in the mirror and back to Rez again. “You watched me? In that?”

He nodded.

“It’s all true? What you said?”

“If you mean about Rez being Drakon, Malphas being the Demon that influenced you to murder your asshole of a brother-in-law and your own imminent death,” Asmodeus smoothly interposed, “then, yes. It’s all true.”

She blanched, fanning her face with a limp hand. “Rez mentioned Lucifer. I dreamt something. But it wasn’t a dream, was it? He was here.”

“Yep. Not exactly in person, but he was definitely here in essence.” Asmodeus pouted like a child with its hand caught in the cookie jar. “And believe me, honey, even when He’s feeling magnanimous, getting up close and personal with the essence of the Prince of Hell is quite enough for any being to cope with. Even a totally badass Demon King like me.”

Leisa gulped. “Oh. My. God!”

Asmodeus winced theatrically. “Ouch! Rez, make her stop talking about He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, will you?”

“Unfortunately,” Rez said, ignoring his King’s discomfort, “it seems God and the Devil are both in on this, though for what purpose, I have no idea. Do you, Asmodeus?”

“Oh,” the King fluttered his hand carelessly, “it’ll be the opportunity to fulfill some ultimate Destiny laid down countless millennia ago blah blah. You know how it goes.”

“In other words,” Rez quirked a sardonic brow at his King’s reflection, “you haven’t the faintest fucking idea, either.”

“Well, no. Sorry. It’s big, though, and it’s been, uh, suggested I shouldn’t interfere. You’re on your own.”

“And yet, here you are!” Rez huffed out a disbelieving breath. “You really like to live on the edge, don’t you, Asmodeus!”

“When it comes to disobeying Lucifer, not really. However, I’m not above searching out a loophole and exploiting it—hence using your mirror.”

“Thanks, old friend.”

Leisa scrubbed her hands over her face. “Okay.” She visibly pulled herself together and sat straighter on the settee. “So I’m scheduled to die and go to hell.” She shrugged, blew out a deep breath and attempted a crooked smile. “I’ve had five years to get used to that. God knows I deserve it after what I’ve done.”

“Crap.” Rez scowled at her. “And you’ll go to Hell over my dead body!”

“That, my friend,” Asmodeus said silkily, “is a distinct possibility.”

Rez favored him with a blistering look which, if he’d been Drakon, would have melted the mirror’s glass.

“Enough chitchat,” Leisa intervened. “So why are you here, Your Majesty?” she asked the image in the mirror. “What do you know that might help us?”

“How do you presume to know I know anything, human?” Asmodeus boomed.

“Oh, cut the big bad scary demon crap,” she said scornfully. “I already figure you’d have to be a really nasty bastard to rule over all the other evil demons, so consider me suitably cowering in my boots… if I were wearing any. All right?”

The Demon King tried on another pout for size.

“Oh, please!” Leisa tried not to laugh. “Now if you’re as devious and underhanded as I think you are, O Great Demon King, it would’ve pissed you off no end you weren’t told what was going on. I’ll just bet you skulked around till you managed to overhear something about this stuff that’s going down with Rez and me. And I’ll just bet you’ve pieced all those snippets together and drawn your own conclusions. Am I right?”

Asmodeus’s gaze swiveled to Rez. “Seems she hasn’t quite succeeded in drowning all her brain cells in alcohol yet, huh?”

“Fuck you, Your Majesty,” she said.

“Ooooh. Feisty. I like that.”

The Demon King’s teasing fanned Leisa’s growing ire. “Out with it! You’re wasting precious time, here. My time, and Rez’s, too. Unless I’m grossly mistaken, you’re the nearest thing he has to a friend, right? So when are you going to stop being a smartass and start helping?”

Rez sighed and sank into an armchair. “Great. My King and the love of my life engaged in a pissing match. What the Hell did I do to deserve this?”

Leisa’s mouth snapped shut. She gave him astonished eyes. “Who’s the love of your life?”

“You are, you daft bitch,” the King said. “And considering how old he is, that’s worthy of a parade.”

She blinked and took a moment to digest this startling fact.

Rez would have killed to know what she was thinking. He examined her face minutely but was left clueless. Damn but he sucked at this human stuff!

“And how old are you, exactly?” she finally asked.

Rez cocked his head as he thought. “I’m six thousand, six hundred and fifteen years, three hundred and sixty two days old, according to the human way of reckoning,” he announced. “To be precise.”

Asmodeus startled them both with a loud rude-sounding exhalation. “Well, fuck me!”

“No thanks,” Leisa muttered.

“In your dreams, honey!” Asmodeus shot back.

“Nightmares, more like.”

Rez groaned. He didn’t think he could take much more of this. His human body was proving far too frail to cope. His balls were still tender, his nose hurt like Hell and even his poor little brain had begun to ache. Being human sucked.

“It’s your birthday soon, right?” Asmodeus asked him.

Rez nodded. “On Wednesday.”

“And how old will you be on Wednesday, Rez? C’mon,” Asmodeus snapped his fingers impatiently, “do the math already!”

“I’ll be…. Whoa,” Rez breathed, his eyes widening. “I’ll be six thousand, six hundred and sixteen. Provided I’m still alive, of course. Which is still up for debate.”

Leisa swallowed, trying to hide her shock at the matter-of-fact way he’d announced his age. “Aside from the ah, longevity issue—which is enough to do anyone’s head in, I might add—what’s so significant about how old he’ll be?”

“It’s an age of extreme significance because it encapsulates the Number of the Beast,” Rez explained.

“But isn’t that 666?”

“A common misconception,” Asmodeus said. “The Number of the Beast is actually 616, as you’d realize if you got your hands on that copy of the Book of Revelations dating back to the Third Century you humans managed to unearth. The exact number’s historically been one big fat ole bone of contention among human religious scholars from the get-go. One faction insists it’s 665 and some wag of a Sci-Fi author—Heinlein, I think his name was—even theorized in one of his novels it was six to the power of six to the power of six. But that’s—”

“Making my head ache!” Leisa said.

“I know exactly how you feel,” Rez muttered.

“Oh, go chew some aspirin, for fuck’s sake!” The Demon King wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Both of you. Now. Before I really lose it.”

“After you tell us what you came to tell us.” Leisa narrowed her eyes and compressed her lips. “Until then we’ll suffer in silence.”

Asmodeus rolled his eyes. “As long as you aren’t moaning about it, I truly don’t give a shit whether you have a headache or not. I’m Demon, little girl. My entire raison d’être is to cause humans pain and suffering. Get used to it, honey!”

“I’m not your honey!” Leisa bounced from her seat and stalked over to confront the Demon King’s image. “Rez, make him tell!”

“I can’t, Leisa. I’m only human, now, remember?”

“If you say ‘please’ and get down on your knees and beg I might consider telling you,” Asmodeus told her. “But you might want to put on those panties I conjured up. Just for decency’s sake.”

“Oooooh!” Leisa fumed. “Please, you… you….”

“Asmodeus!” Rez growled.

“I know Malphas’s true-name,” Asmodeus said, relenting. “I’ve been forbidden to tell you, but nobody came right out and forbade me to do this.” He conjured a piece of parchment and a pen, scribbled something, and held it up for Rez to see. “Take a good look. You can’t afford any mistakes or he’ll have your guts for garters.”

Rez exploded to his feet, his face alight with fierce hope. He approached the mirror, eyes narrowed with intense concentration as he deciphered the script. “Got it.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.” Rez punched a fist in the air. “Yes!”

“Exactly!” The King beamed. “Am I a devious bastard or what?”

“Or what!” Rez agreed, grabbing Leisa by the waist and swinging her ’round. He kissed her long and deep.

“But what good is knowing his true-name?” she gasped when he came up for air.

“It means you’ll be able to Summon Malphas.”

“And,” Asmodeus put in, “if you do it right, you’ll be able Vanquish him, which will break his hold over you.”

“And if I do it wrong?”

“You’ll definitely be accompanying him back to Hell. Like immediately.”

“Gee,” Leisa said, “thanks for that. I feel so much better now.”

Asmodeus grinned. “I kinda like her, Rez. She’s got more going for her than just an attractive ass.”

Rez pressed a kiss on the top of her head. “I thought so, too. Though her ass was what attracted me in the first place.”

She wiggled from his embrace far enough to whack him on the arm. “Pervert!”

Rez waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “If you’re lucky.”

“Ah, true love,” Asmodeus sighed. “Excuse me while I go find a bucket to vomit in. Not that it hasn’t been a delight, but I’ve got demises to place and my own handsome ass to cover. You know, important crap like that. Good luck, you two.”

“Thanks, Asmodeus. I owe you one.”

“Mmmm.” The King hung around just long enough to see Rez sweep Leisa up and march off in the direction of the bedroom. The Drakon had a particular gleam in his eye Asmodeus recognized. His little human companion wasn’t really protesting all that much, either. In fact, she was smiling. Secretively.

Asmodeus transported himself to his super-king-sized bed and settled back to watch another scintillating episode of Dead Like Me, hoping it would give him some ideas. In the back of his mind he wondered whether it might be time to forgive Lilith and bring her back into his life. Fully warded and suitably restrained, of course. He was horny, not stupid.

Even Demons Get the Blues: Chapter 11

“We shouldn’t be doing this, you know,” Leisa said as Rez stripped her of her clothes—taking more care this time, given he couldn’t conjure her new ones.

He nuzzled her breasts. “Why not?”

“Because, you horny beast, we should be discussing how to capture Malphas.”

“We already know how to capture Malphas. We’re going to summon him.” He drew one taut nipple into his mouth and suckled.

“Ahhhhh.” She squirmed. “But once we summon him, how do we capture him?”

Rez cupped her breasts, weighing them in his hands, paying homage with lips and mouth before licking down her body and burying his nose in her belly button. “He’ll be contained within the circle of Summoning.” He stuck his tongue in the intriguing dip of her navel.

She squirmed and giggled. “And then what?”

“We vanquish his ass.” He continued his downward journey until he’d settled between her thighs. He pushed her legs apart and blew gently on her curls.

She shivered.

That was more like it. He parted her folds, dipped his head and tasted her. She smelled of musk and arousal and Leisa. She tasted salty and sweet and sexy. Even though he knew her body, even though he’d had her before, he wanted to savor this moment, his first time with a human as a human.

“Rez?”

“Mmmm?”

“Do you actually know how to summon a demon?”

He looked up at her worried, earnest face and could only think of how much he wanted to stroke away her fears and coax her body into forgetting all about this mess. “Do I know how to summon a Demon? I’m Demon, aren’t I?”

“Oh, so you’ve actually been summoned. What was it like? Was it awful? How did you escape?”

“I haven’t actually been Summoned myself,” he admitted. “I haven’t ever been careless enough for anyone to learn my true-name.”

“Oh. Then how do I summon Malphas? Do I just say his true-name aloud or is there more to it?”

“Uh, I’m not exactly sure.” Rez rested his head on her thigh, seeing his plans of spending the next couple of hours comparing having sex as a Drakon to having sex as a human flitting away.

Leisa chewed her lower lip. “I think we need to hit the Internet and maybe the library ASAP.”

Defeated, he groaned. She wasn’t going to let this go and he could hardly blame her. What kind of a shit was he, thinking about sex when the stakes were literally life and death and the distinct possibility of eternal damnation? “I guess you’re right.”

She smiled at him, green eyes sparkling with mischief. “I think we’ll get to all that later.”

He dared a searching glance, wondering if he’d heard right. “Later?”

She faked a yawn. “I didn’t get much sleep last night. I think I might need a nap.”

“Really.” He cupped her mound.

“Yes.” She pressed herself into his hand. “I really am quite tired.”

He ran a finger through her folds, finding her warm and wet and obviously willing. “That is a shame.” He worked a finger inside her and bent his head.

“Ah. I might be convinced to stay awake a bit longer—with the right motivation.”

He licked her, his tongue swiping her labia, lapping her moisture. His tongue flicked her clit until she gasped and writhed. He raised his head and captured her gaze. “How’s this for motivation?” He grasped her hips and pulled her butt up off the mattress. He positioned his cock at her entrance and plunged deep inside her, watching every expression, every little nuance on her lovely features.

Her eyelids drifted down. She arched her body and widened her thighs still more. “Ohhhhh! That’s… ahhhh! Everything I could ever want when it comes to… oooooh! Motivation.”

Rez worked himself deeper and she took him easily this time, as though her body remembered and surrendered. He leaned down to wrap his arms around her and pulled her up till she sat astride him, his cock planted deep within her. He rocked his pelvis. His cock throbbed and grew. He held her in his arms, loving the way her breasts were crushed against his chest, loving her little moans of pleasure, her indrawn gasps.

When he knew she was close, he sank backward onto the mattress, taking her with him and draping her over him blanket-like. He kissed her long and deep, his tongue tangling with hers, his lips nibbling and tasting. He could have continued this way forever.

Leisa broke from the kiss. She pushed herself upright, hands flat against his chest. She traced his pecs, the flat hard planes of his stomach. Lower, to the root of his cock. Lower still, arching back to cup his sac. And gently squeeze.

He groaned. “Baby.”

“I gather I didn’t do any permanent damage, then?”

“No. But if you want to make this sort of thing a habit, I’d think twice about doing it again.”

“Mmmmm.” She bent forward again, placing a hand either side of him on the mattress. She began to ride him, lifting up slowly, slowly, until just the tip of his cock nudged her entrance. Then slowly, slowly… Lucifer’s loins! With torturous slowness, she lowered herself down his rigid length until she reached the root and ground her mound into his groin. Over and over again.

He loved it.

He loved her.

Hell, he couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed her hips and slammed her down onto him, then rose to tip her onto her back, following her, covering her with his body, entering her again. He held her down as he thrust inside her. She wrapped her legs about his hips, stiffened beneath him, eyes wide and dazed as she screamed his name.

Rez thrust once more inside her tight, wet sex. He came with her name on his lips, emptied his body and his soul into her. He collapsed atop her limp body, feeling her heart beating wildly in her chest. Knowing his was doing the same. Because of her.

He raised his head to look into her eyes and grin in a smug, wholly masculine fashion. “Now we can go do some research if you like.”

Her fingers combed through his hair. “Mmmmm. Just give me a minute to recover.”

Still grinning, he rolled off her and wrapped her again in his arms. He tucked her close against the side of his body, pushed her damp locks back from her face and pressed a kiss to her temple. “I love you Leisa.”

Bathed in the warm afterglow of fantastic sex—made even more fantastic because it had been with a woman he loved—Rez didn’t notice her lack of response.

***

The Internet proved frustrating, as expected. It contained a veritable wealth of information regarding Demons and suchlike, most of it so far removed from the truth as to be laughable. At least, he would be laughing if the situation weren’t so fucking serious.

Rez’s eyes burned. He rubbed them and turned away from the screen, his gaze settling on the stack of books Leisa had picked up from the public library. He picked one at random.

Angels and Demons. Ha! Original title—not. He flicked through the pages and set it aside with a sigh. He glanced over to where Leisa lay on the settee. She’d fallen asleep about an hour ago, and the book she’d been reading still lay on her chest. He padded over, intending to scoop her up and put her to bed where she’d rest more comfortably.

He reached for the book, and the instant he touched it a charge of pure knowing surged through his veins. His heart began to pound. He plucked it from Leisa’s chest and retreated to his armchair. The tome was an old and battered hardcover, its pages stained and discolored. He examined the faded cover. It was simply entitled Demon Lore. No author was listed.

He opened it, excitement fizzing through his veins as he skimmed the pages and glimpsed handwritten notations scrawled in the margins, hastily scrawled footnotes at the end of each chapter. Someone knowledgeable had used this book and made comprehensive notes. His intuition shrieked this was the one, the book he needed. He didn’t have time to read it from cover to cover, though.

Well, as Asmodeus was so fond of saying, there’s more than one way to skin a Demon. He closed the book and held it spine down, upright on his lap. He took his hands from it, allowing the pages to fall open as they would. Taking a deep breath, he scanned the page numbers. The book had opened at pages sixty-eight and sixty-nine. Rez grinned. He had a certain fondness for the number sixty-nine. So be it.

To Summon a Demon, the heading decreed. A most excellent start!

“Say these words loudly and clearly,” he read, “enunciating each syllable with care. ‘I summon thee, O (insert Demon’s true-name), to present thyself here before me immediately, being ready to obey me in all things. And upon my uttering of thy true-name I command thee, (insert Demon’s true-name), to do and accomplish both my will and intent and obey all that I shall command without harm to me. By my will thy obedience is mine until such time as I choose to release thee back to Hell. (Insert Demon’s true-name), I summon thee!’”

In the margin were scrawled the words, “Pronunciation of the demon’s true-name must be precise and exact or the summoning will fail.”

Jackpot! Rez knew this was what they’d been searching for. Eagerly he scanned the previous pages, noting the precise, careful steps needed to protect oneself before attempting a summoning and how to entrap the Demon within a circle of hallowed salt once it had been summoned. He flicked to the end of the segment until he found the words needed to perform a Vanquishing.

“Yes!” he crowed. “Malphas, you’re going down!”

Even Demons Get the Blues: Chapter 12

This was it. Tuesday. Her day of reckoning. For the umpteenth time Leisa recited the words of the summoning and vanquishing incantations in her mind. She had them word-perfect, she knew, but that didn’t stop the panic clawing her stomach. Not even the comfort of Rez’s presence could do that. Despite her show of bravado, she did not want to go to Hell. There had to be a chance for her to redeem herself—had to!

Just like there had to be a way to keep herself—and therefore Rez—alive.

Not for the first time she found herself wishing Lucifer had seen fit to leave Rezon’s Drakon powers intact. If she screwed up and Malphas got free, then Rez could go Drakonic and whoop his ass. As it was, if she got anything wrong the Destroyer Demon was going to rip them both to shreds and drag her soul straight to Hell.

“Are you sure you got the translation right?” she asked Rez again. He’d written down the bizarre squiggles which purportedly represented Malphas’s true-name and converted them to English syllables, giving Leisa as close to a phonetic translation as possible. But she still worried that she hadn’t been able to practice saying Malphas’s true-name aloud. To do so would call the Destroyer Demon down upon them before they were ready for him. In her head, the Demon’s true-name sounded like someone gargling mouthwash. She could only pray she got it right.

“Sweetheart, you can do this, I know you can. I have faith in you, so you just have to have faith in yourself. Okay?”

He was being incredibly patient with her and she appreciated it—really she did. “Okay.”

Except it wasn’t anywhere near okay. There wasn’t anything okay about any of this.

“Are you ready?” Rez asked.

“Yes.”

No!

She hoped everything they’d done would be enough. She patted the bag of salt she’d tucked beneath her blouse. According to the book it was best to use salt from the Red Sea, which having once been parted by the hand of God was considered particularly holy. Like sourcing genuine Red Sea salt had been an option given their limited timeframe. They’d had to make do with plain old store-bought sea salt, which they’d asked a priest to bless.

Leisa still couldn’t believe the young priest hadn’t batted an eyelid when they’d bowled on in and made their outrageous request. “These are dark times, indeed,” was all he’d said. She shivered, remembering his intent gaze upon her. It hadn’t been a stretch to imagine he could actually see Malphas’s foul influence staining her soul.

She’d spent yesterday trying not to think about souls and dying and eternal torture. Once they’d sourced everything they needed, she learned the spells by heart and practiced sounding out the syllables of the Demon’s name in her head over and over again until Rez finally managed to distract her by seducing her. And wearing her out until she fell asleep.

Sunlight washed the room, incongruously bright and cheery given the dark and dangerous task they’d set themselves. Leisa was profoundly thankful the book didn’t advocate performing the Summoning at the stroke of midnight. She didn’t think she could handle any more darkness in her life right now.

She sprinkled holy water over herself and kissed the cross she’d ferreted out from her jewelry box back home. Then she knelt, drawing a circle with a hunk of white chalk on the parquet floor in Rez’s living room. When she’d done that to her satisfaction, she painstakingly poured salt overtop, taking care to form the grains in a continuous ring.

Rez helped her to her feet. He kept his hand on her waist as she began the ritual words to summon her nemesis. That hand on her waist was all the warmth Leisa could feel. Her body was icy cold, almost numb.

“I summon thee, O Nysroghundepest, to present thyself here before me immediately, being ready to obey me in all things.”

Within the circle air thickened and seethed, coalescing into a black fog.

“And upon my uttering of thy true-name, I command thee, Nysroghundepest, to do and accomplish both my will and intent, and obey all that I shall command without harm to me.”

The blackness contracted into an amorphous mass, bursting outwards and upwards but constrained by the limits of the salt circle.

“By my will thy obedience is mine until such time as I choose to release thee back to Hell. Nysroghundepest, I summon thee!”

A rolling wave of thunderous sound and a sickening green burst of light…. Leisa only had time to blink and refocus her eyes before Malphas stood before her.

He appeared as a normal human man. Average height. Average build. Rather homely and eminently forgettable. Certainly not a patch on the gorgeous specimen of masculinity that was Rez.

“What the Hell do you think you’re trying to pull, bitch?” he snarled. “You’ll be seeing me soon enough, I assure you! Or,” he waggled his eyebrows at her, “are you so eager you can’t wait until midnight?”

“Long time, no see, Malphas.” Rez smirked at the Demon. “I bet you’re wondering what’s up, huh?”

“Something like that.” Malphas scowled. “This your idea, Lizard?”

“Something like that.”

“How in Hell did you learn my true-name?”

“Now that would be telling.”

Malphas narrowed his eyes, raking Rez from head to toe. His jaw dropped. “Hellfire! How did you end up human?”

“Lucifer’s idea of a joke. But enough of that. Let’s cut to the chase. I’m bonded to this human so I’m not about to let you have her. Release her and find some other human to ruin.”

Malphas threw back his head and gave a screech of laughter so loud it echoed about the room and made Leisa’s ears ring. “Right. Like I give a fuck whether she’s bonded to the last Drakon or not. You can rot for all I care. She’s mine. I’ve already added her to my quota for the period. She’s a done deal.”

“You might want to rethink your stance on that one, Malphas.”

“Or what? You’ll talk me to death? You’re human, Rez. But even if you still had your Drakon powers I could take you.”

“Ya think?” Now it was Rez’s turn to laugh uproariously. “You’ve gotten soft, Malphas. You’re only interested in quotas and numbers. You don’t remember what it’s like to battle to the death. You’re weak. Worse, you’re a coward. Hell, you couldn’t even let free will enter the equation, could you? You couldn’t let her face up to her crime and be punished, and perhaps in time be forgiven, because that would take too long and gee whiz, her soul might even slip from your grasp. You, Malphas, are a prime example of why Demonkind is going to the dogs.”

“Bite me.” Malphas sneered. “You’re hip deep in the shit and sinking fast, Rezon. You talk about me being weak, but you’re the one who put your ass up for grabs by bonding with a fucking human. And this one,” he flicked a contemptuous glance at Leisa, “is going to be my ticket to glory. I take her and I get you as a bonus. Who’s your daddy, Rezon?” he snorted, holding his sides as he giggled, practically overcome with his own cleverness. “Why, if you’re reborn, I’ll make damn sure it’s me! I’ll have control of the great Rezon, last of the Drakons, our King’s former lieutenant. And hey, if by some miracle you don’t make it to rebirth and end up smeared all over the ass end of oblivion, I will be lauded for all eternity as the Demon that took you down. Fuck me, I can’t lose.”

“You really are an arrogant bastard, aren’t you?” Leisa said.

The Destroyer Demon curled his lip and sniggered. “What ya gonna do, bitch? Keep me inside this circle until I die of boredom? You’re mine. Get used to it.” He moved to the outer limit of the circle, testing its strength.

Leisa stepped forward, hands clenched at her sides, bristling with determination. “On the contrary, Malphas. Your ass is mine.”

“Really.” He stepped outside the circle and stood arms akimbo, grinning widely at her shock. “You really are a dumb bitch, aren’t you? Plain sea-salt? Please! And you think that little gold cross round your neck’s gonna save you? Think again!”

Leisa shrank back, her eyes round with shock.

Rez grabbed her and put her behind him. “If you want her, Malphas, you’ll have to go through me.”

The Demon grinned. “It’ll be my pleasure.” His form shimmered, morphing into a hideously twisted creature with features that reminded Leisa of a boar, all squinty red eyes, hairy ears and mashed-in snout with wickedly sharp tusks. His body was covered with bristles. His shoulders were wide, arms and thighs bulging with ropy muscle. His stomach, though, was beer-belly rotund. From his groin sprang an erect penis about two feet in length. The glistening purple member was the worst feature as far as Leisa was concerned. It was even more ugly and perverted than the thing it was attached to.

“Get a good look at my cock, bitch,” Malphas crooned, encircling the shaft with both hands and pumping his hips. “Work of art, ain’t it? And very soon it’ll be having its fucking way with you!”

“I don’t think so, dick-for-brains,” Leisa told him, stepping from behind Rez. Before Malphas could so much as make a grab for her, she flung a handful of blessed salt in his eyes and began to chant. “Great Spirit of Earth, Water, Air and Fire, heed me now for my need is dire. Almighty One aid me in my quest, cleanse me of evil, rid me of its behest.”

Malphas’s eyeballs began to bubble in their sockets. He howled, tearing at his face with his claws.

Leisa threw a handful at his chest. “Ashes to earth, bring my intent to birth. Blood to fire, grant me my desire, all-powerful and free no longer shall this Demon be.”

“You tricked me!” Malphas shrieked. Skin began to slough off his torso and a great gush of noisome black liquid burst from his chest cavity. He sank to his knees.

“But of course.” Leisa dipped inside the bag of salt for another handful. “I used plain sea-salt to draw the circle. Couldn’t see the point in wasting the blessed salt by dumping it all over the floor when we had a far better use for it.” She trickled a stream of salt onto the tip of his penis. “Almighty One, grant me faith enough to embrace my fate, banish this evil and obliterate.”

Malphas’s once-proud member blackened and shriveled, then fell off. He whimpered once before toppling face-first onto the floor.

“Do you think you’ll ever be forgiven for your crimes, Malphas?” Leisa asked conversationally. “Hmmmm.” She tapped a finger on her lips. “I doubt whether Asmodeus will forgive you for being such a hopeless example of Demonkind.”

“Someone called?” Asmodeus’s image appeared in the mirror. The Demon King surveyed the oozing hunk of flesh that had once been a particularly arrogant Destroyer Demon. “Ouch,” he said. “That’s gotta hurt.”

Leisa sifted the rest of the salt over what remained of Malphas and finished the incantation. “By the powers the Great Spirit has invested in me, Nysroghundepest I Vanquish thee!”

The Demon’s remains promptly burst into flames, burning until nothing was left but a large Malphas-shaped scorch mark on the parquet floor.

“Damn,” Rez muttered. “If it’s not stiletto heels, it’s incinerated Demons.”

Leisa bent to touch the mark on the floor, swiping her fingertips over it.

“Malphas is toast,” Asmodeus assured her.

She crossed herself. “Thank you, God.”

“Amen to that!” Rez echoed.

The Demon King whimpered and clapped both hands over his ears. He cracked one eyelid. “Have you two quite finished?”

Leisa grinned. “Oh yeah.”

“Impressive,” Asmodeus said. “That incantation had all the power of a true Believer behind it. I didn’t think you believed in You-Know-Who.”

She shrugged. “I believe in you. I believe in your Demons. I believe I had a brush with the Devil himself. It’s not a stretch to extend that belief to a higher power, is it?”

Asmodeus winced. “Rez, tell her to stop, will you? It’s just too cruel!”

Rez chuckled and hugged Leisa so hard she squeaked in protest. “Good job, darling. Er, sorry about Malphas,” he offered to Asmodeus. Insincerely.

“I never much liked him.” Asmodeus dismissed the Destroyer Demon’s demise with a careless wave of his hand. “He was a Council lick-ass. And that primary form of his? Talk about trite.”

“Not to mention his tendency toward exaggeration,” Leisa put in, curling her little finger and wiggling it. “He obviously had issues, that boy.”

Rez’s burst of laughter was short-lived. He had serious matters on his mind. “Can you tell whether Leisa’s safe now Malphas has been vanquished?”

Asmodeus beckoned Leisa to the mirror. Although she confronted only the Demon King’s reflection, she felt the scorching heat of his gaze on her skin and the heavy weight of him in her mind.

“She’s all clear, Rez. But,” the Demon King held up a cautionary hand, halting Rez’s shout of joy, “tomorrow’s your birthday and there’s still some serious shit to go down. I wouldn’t start celebrating just yet.” His reflection began to shimmer and fade. When it had completely dissipated, the scorch mark on Rez’s floor morphed into fine motes of dust that whisked away and dispersed on some unseen breeze, leaving the parquet pristine.

“Nice touch,” Leisa said, chewing her lip and suddenly feeling horribly awkward. “Okay, so here’s the deal. Work’s covered. They’re not expecting me back for a fortnight. And now the nasty horrid Demon’s no longer gunning for my soul, any sensible woman would probably book a vacation somewhere far removed from here and try her best to forget all this crap. But—”

“You’re no ordinary woman, Leisa.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Nice save. If you’d said I was no sensible woman, I’d have had to kick your ass. Look, Rez, no way am I leaving until I know what your fate is. Only problem is, I don’t really feel like nervously pacing the floor while we wait for your birthday to arrive so we can deal with whatever Heaven and Hell might have planned. And don’t suggest we jump into bed and screw each other senseless, either. I’m just so not in the mood right now!”

Rez gathered her into his arms and stroked her hair. “For once the thought hadn’t actually crossed my mind. Just being with you and knowing your soul is safe is more than enough pleasure for me right now. How about I take you out on a date? We could have a nice meal, drink some good wine, talk and learn about each other—like normal people would do.”

“A date?” She twisted in his arms to look up at him, searching his face. “Serious?”

“Very.”

Leisa felt a jolt like a small electric shock in the region of her heart. Perhaps this Demon of hers was really a bona fide romantic. He was certainly trying, anyway. Maybe there was hope for the two of them yet. She smiled. “You’re on.”

Even Demons Get the Blues: Chapter 13

Leisa opened her eyes and lay in bed, basking in the absolutely incomparable afterglow of Rez’s attentions. She could hear him puttering about in the kitchen. Doubtless cooking up a storm. The man had some appetite, and not only for food!

She giggled softly, thinking about last night and her date with Rez. It had not quite turned out the way either of them imagined.

She’d managed not to laugh outright at Rez’s dismay when he realized he had no cash or credit cards stashed in the house. Evidently he just conjured up whatever he needed, whenever he needed it. He’d refused to let her pay. She’d refused to let him go out and mug some poor sap. In the end they stayed in and made the best of it.

Which turned out to be pretty darned superb! He’d cooked an amazing meal, and after they’d polished off the best bottle of wine he could dredge up from his extensive cellar, they cuddled on the settee to watch DVDs. He’d chosen 300, a slightly fantastical and extremely bloody account of the Battle of Thermopylae, and she surprised him by opting for Kill Bill Volumes One and Two with the incomparable Uma Thurman. “I’m not bloodthirsty at all! It’s a classic,” she insisted. “Lots of women watch this sort of thing. I’m also a fan of Desperado, From Dusk Till Dawn and Sin City, just so you know.”

It had been a wonderful day that segued into a wonderful evening, topped off with wonderful sex.

No, more than just sex. It had been making love. Rez had made love to her. Afterwards he’d told her again that he loved her.

And again she’d remained silent, choking on the words that had welled up in her heart and cried out to be heard. Instead she’d taken the coward’s way out and resorted to tears. And he’d held her and comforted her until she drifted off to sleep.

Leisa couldn’t quite bring herself to believe she deserved a man like Rez. Besides, he wasn’t truly a man. He was Drakon, a Demon. And likely as not, today he’d return to his former state of being and where would that leave her? If she admitted she did love him, if she voiced the words and made them real, she’d only be hurting herself more. And she’d be hurting him, too, because she was human and their love was forbidden.

Ultimately he would have to give her up. Or she’d have to become a Demon. And having lived a Hell on earth for the past five years, she had no wish to spend eternity there.

Ever since she killed her sister’s husband, her life had gone from bad to worse. She’d earned her sister’s gratitude for rescuing her daughter, but also her hatred.

Leisa might not have been prosecuted by the law, but she’d paid with all that was left of her family. The instant she was acquitted, she’d been denied access to her niece. Her calls were disconnected the minute she identified herself. Her messages were not returned, her letters sent back unopened. She’d been cut off and excised completely from her sister’s life.

It took awhile for Leisa to understand, but when she finally did she could hardly blame her. How could her sister not hate the one who’d killed her husband, however monstrous he’d been? Still it was hell knowing she’d never see her niece again.

Leisa had lost her family five years ago.

And today she could lose a man she thought might well be the love of her life.

She said “might” because she couldn’t possibly have fallen in love within mere days. Could she? Sighing, she tossed back the covers and got up to face whatever the day might bring.

She padded out to the living room and froze.

She was naked and Rez had visitors. To be precise, otherworldly visitors. That much was obvious from their obscenely beautiful androgynous features. She debated fleeing back to the bedroom and clothing herself but decided what the Hell? These dudes were all-seeing and all-knowing. Sure as God made little fishes and the Devil liked to party, these two weren’t going to bat an eyelid at a naked human woman. She’d bet they’d seen it all and then some.

Taking a deep breath, she sauntered over to Rez, wrapped her arms around him and gave him the kind of hug that would have any normal human male dragging her off for another hot ’n heavy bedroom session. Rez merely pressed a perfunctory kiss atop her head and set her slightly away from him.

She tried again, insinuating herself beneath his arm and cuddling into his side. “Happy birthday, handsome,” she cooed. “Hope you’ve cooked extra bacon.”

He didn’t so much as crack a smile.

Shit. Just who were these visitors?

“Rezon,” the blond being drawled, his voice rolling over her like liquid honey. “Aren’t you going to introduce us to your precious bondmate?”

“Hi.” Leisa extended her hand. “I’m Leisa. Pleased to meet you.” Whoever the Hell you are.

A slight smile played across its full lips. “And I’m Ramiel. We’re both advisors of sorts. You may think of us both as being male, if it makes you more comfortable.” Courteously, just as a normal human would do, he extended his hand.

Leisa’s eyes widened at the surge of power fizzing through her veins the instant she made contact with him. She yanked back her hand to examine her wrist, half expecting to see the veins pulsing. She scowled blackly at him. “I don’t care who you are. That was hardly polite.”

Ramiel had the grace to look abashed. “My abject apologies. It’s an occupational hazard. I cannot turn it off and on.”

“I’m Abaddon,” the raven-haired one said huskily. His voice sounded as if he’d once been strangled to within an inch of his life. “And if you think that was bad, I’d nix the handshaking if I were you.”

Leisa shoved both hands behind her back. “I’ll, uh, take that under advisement.”

Rez leveled her a narrow-eyed look. Dark flecks swirled in his amber eyes. “Darling, why don’t you go and put some clothes on?” The studied lightness of his voice belied the tightness of his jaw and stiff posture.

“Why? I reckon these guys have kinda seen it all, so if it’s not worrying them, why should it worry me?” She slanted Rez a challenging look. “Or you?”

Rez’s lips thinned. “Humor me.”

“No.”

“No? You’re content to flaunt your nakedness in front of these two creatures?”

The creatures in question both gave her “the look,” that wholly masculine I’d-like-to-lick-you-all-over-and-fuck-you-till-you-scream-for-mercy look only guys who were very certain of their own appeal could pull off without making dicks of themselves.

Leisa ignored her full-body attack of goose bumps. She folded her arms across her chest and stuck out her lower lip. “I didn’t say that. If they want to be rude assholes and stare at me, then fine. Their problem, not mine. And regardless of how you feel about my state of undress in this instance, I am not leaving this room.”

Rez sucked in a deep breath and seemed to be doing his best to keep hold of his temper. “Might I ask why?”

“Because I know the minute I leave you guys alone, you’re gonna start discussing the important stuff. And no way am I missing out! Understand?”

Ramiel choked on a laugh. “I rather think I like her,” he said to Abaddon.

Leisa fluttered her lashes and gifted them with a saccharine smile. “Good. Then perhaps you won’t obliterate me when I ask you both to piss off and leave Rezon alone. Can’t he at least enjoy his birthday in peace?”

“He’s had over six thousand birthdays,” Abaddon groused. “So don’t you us with some nonsensical crap as to why this one should be so special.”

Leisa bristled beneath his sardonic gaze. “It’s special because it’s the first one he’s spent with me!”

Ramiel nudged his compatriot with his elbow. “She’s got you there.”

The two exchanged some wordless communication.

Ramiel straightened in his seat, abruptly all business. “Leisa, we’re here because this day, the six thousandth, six hundredth and sixteenth year since Rezon’s birth, heralds an event of great significance in the realms of Heaven and Hell. We’re here because Rezon must make a choice. He must decide whether to regain his Drakon self and take his rightful place as a Sentinel, a being that straddles both Heaven and Hell. A being whose sole responsibility is to watch over the denizens of both realms. To ensure that we all, as you humans say, tow the line.”

Presentiment tingled across her skin. Leisa crossed her arms over her chest. Her body was chilled, but her heart was frozen in a solid lump of ice. “Or?”

“Or to stay here with you, Leisa,” Abaddon said. “To remain human. Mortal. To live out his three-score years and ten if he’s lucky, and then die. As all humans do.”

“I choose to remain human,” Rez said. “I choose to stay with Leisa. I love her.”

“Ah.” Abaddon sneered. “Love. How quaint. But let’s not be hasty, Rezon. Your little human lover is damaged goods. She’s a murderess. Her own sister hates her. She’s fucked every loser from here to Kingdom come. She’s got all the self-esteem of a flea. You don’t even know for sure whether she loves you back, do you? You’re not sure she knows how to love anyone, are you? Is it really worth the chance? Is it really worth sacrificing yourself—your Destiny—only to discover she thinks you’re a really good fuck but not worth loving?”

Rezon’s jaw worked. His fists clenched, suggesting he’d like nothing more that to pummel the handsome bastard into the rug. “It’s worth the risk. She’s worth the risk.”

“And what about you, Ramiel?” Leisa challenged. “Don’t you have something derogatory to say about me? Something that’ll change Rezon’s mind? Don’t hold back! Obviously you both have an agenda. Rezon needs to accept this Sentinel job or something disastrous is going to happen, isn’t it? So why couch it in airy-fairy terms of choices when that’s a whole lot of crap. Just be honest and put me out of my misery.”

The blond shook his head sadly. “I have nothing to add. The choice is, and has always been, Rezon’s.”

Leisa turned to Rez. “You have to do this. It’s what you were born to do. It’s what you were meant to do. Be Drakon again, be a Sentinel and forget all about me. In the grand scheme of things I’m not important.”

He cupped her face in his hands. “But you are important. To me you’re the most important thing in the world. I love you. I can’t live without you. And I won’t.”

“I love you, too, my Amediel,” she whispered, tears coursing down her cheeks as he enfolded her in his arms.

“Finally!” she heard Ramiel mutter. “Abaddon, you evil bastard, stop perving at her butt and let’s get this show on the road.”

A thunderous crash shook the room and a pure, blinding white light encompassed both Leisa and Rez. Its heat pierced their hearts and their brains. It flayed the skin from their bones. It consumed them and they were burned to ash.

Even Demons Get the Blues: Chapter 14

Leisa glanced down at her naked body, astonished to discover she actually had one. She patted it with her palms. It seemed to be real, too, not some trick of the light or her brain. Large hands grabbed her from behind and pulled her into the warmth of a hard, muscular body. “Rez?” She twisted, craning her neck to look up. Her heart thumped a tattoo of hope in her chest. “Rez!”

“The very same,” he agreed smugly, grinning as she swiveled in his arms and plastered herself against him, legs wrapped around his waist, arms in a chokehold about his neck.

He didn’t mind in the least.

When she’d finished kissing him—a long while later—she glanced at the familiar surrounds of Rez’s apartment. Then she looked at the floor-to-ceiling windows and gasped. Pulling away from his arms, she tottered over to the window and pressed her face to the glass, gazing out.

To the left was calm golden light as far as her eyes could see. Straight ahead was….

Nothing. Blankness. A curious emptiness. To the right was roiling churning blackness.

Somehow the apartment now marked the division between light and dark. Heaven and Hell, too, perhaps?

She scurried back to the comfort of Rez’s embrace. “What do you think happened to us?” she ventured, not at all certain she wanted to know.

“It’s incredible, isn’t it?” He nodded to the out-of-this-world vista beyond the glass. We’ve been reborn, Leisa. We’re Sentinels. We herald the dawning of a new age. And we’re going to be together for eternity.”

“Oh!” Her heart soared. Smiling, she rested her head against his chest. “Just as well I really do love you then, huh? Otherwise that whole together-for-eternity thing would pretty much suck!”

“Just as well.” Rez captured her gaze with his amber eyes.

“And,” Leisa couldn’t resist adding, “maybe with me to offer advice, you’ll be able to do a half-decent job of prettying up this tediously monochromatic apartment.”

“I like monochromatic,” Rez lied, just to watch her reaction.

“Well, I don’t. No way am I living forever in a place this boring, so—”

Asmodeus’s voice boomed from nothingness. “That’s what you get for becoming permanently involved with a female, Rez. My commiserations, old friend. It appears the nagging has begun.”

Glossary of Demon and Angel names and their meanings (if applicable)

Abbadon—Advisor

Amediel—Bonecrusher (Rezon’s true-name)

Asmodeus—Destroyer, prince of vengeance

Belphegor—Sloth, vanity

Malphas—Destroyer Demon who strips humans of their conscience and human emotions.

Leisa—God’s promise, God’s oath

Naamah—Seductress

Ornias—Harassment

Ramiel—Angel presiding over true visions

Verrine—Impatience

About the author:

At the tender age of twelve, Maree Anderson was pinching her mom and dad’s books and reading them at night by the hallway light. It took her a few more years—okay, decades!—to pluck up enough courage to write her own stories but now there’s no stopping her. She lives in Auckland, New Zealand, with her real-life hero who encouraged her to quit work and take up writing full-time—what a man! She’s a mom to two extremely understanding kids who don’t mind getting their own dinner when she can’t tear herself away from her keyboard, and one very portly ocicat keeps her company while she’s writing. Feel to visit her website www.mareeanderson.com and drop her a line coz she’d love to hear from you.

When Red Sage decided to host its first ever writing competition, the response was overwhelming! The editorial team sifted through an enormous pile of entries to pick out finalists, and the competition was fierce!

But all of the editors agreed on one thing—
The hero in Nameless Surrender was too hot to be ignored!

The Red Sage Editorial Team congratulates:

Kristin Daniels
author of
Nameless Surrender
Winner of the Alpha Male Contest, E-Books Division!

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