A Demon's Desire (2 page)

“Any man who keeps a blind dog can’t be too
bad,” she tried to convince herself. “Stay here, angel, and watch
out for those idiots in capes.” She fished the squishy remains of a
candy bar from her pocket. Her hand emerged coated in melted
chocolate and coconut.

“Dammit.”

Emma pinched the wrapper away with her
opposite hand and handed the remains to the dog, whose nose prodded
her forearm at its scent. It scarfed the candy and licked her hand
clean. She rose and wiped the dog slobber on her jeans before
glancing at the store name once again.

Candles flickered at her entrance into the
shop, and she distinguished several rows of shelves sagging under
the weight of goods her eyes were too tired to make out. One wall
glowed with the outlines of drink freezers. Her gaze lingered
before she realized Coke was the last thing a place like this would
stock. It smelled better than the other shops, emanating a spicy,
masculine scent with an undertone of basil.

On the opposite end of the store, scowling
clerks at the cashier counter looked up when the wooden floor
creaked beneath her feet. She girded herself for yet another
unfriendly exchange when a warm, charged current of air reached
her. She glanced in the direction from which it seemed to come. The
store was chilly aside from the peculiar current emanating from the
corner to the right of the entrance. The darkness of the corner was
impenetrable.

Someone’s there.

She blinked away the eerie sense, turning
when the hellhound’s paws clicked on the wooden floor. It ambled
into the shop, swung its massive head from right to left, wagged,
and sat in the doorway. Had the two silent, brooding clerks not
been staring at her, she would’ve retreated to pet the single
friendly soul on Demon’s Alley.

“Good evening,” she said and started toward
the counter.

“What are you looking for?” one asked.

“I need a consultation on the occult,” she
said.

“Consultation?” The girl glanced at the
other. “Advice isn’t free. You have to buy something.”

“Can you tell me if you’re going to be able
to help me first?” she asked.

“Buy something then we’ll talk.”

Emma looked around, frustrated. Her eyes
settled on the hellhound.

“Your dog,” she said.

“That’s Tristan’s. You’ll have to ask him,”
the clerk said with a roll of her eyes.

“Fine. Just tell me what you want me to buy,
and I will!”

“Don’t worry about it.” The girl sat down
with a huff and tossed a hand toward the front corner before
sitting down and pulling out her iPhone. Emma watched her text
someone and waited. The girl looked up. “Go see Tristan. He’s
over there
.”

Emma held back her temper, but her pounding
head was ready to explode. She started toward the corner with its
impenetrable darkness. Her fear of the dark made her stop at the
edge of where the light reached, a safe distance away from the inky
blackness.

Light reflected off two black eyes peering at
her from the dark but disappeared as she blinked. Unable to summon
a clear explanation among her tired thoughts, she chalked the
glowing eyes up to imagination and waited for the figure in the
corner to emerge.

“What kind of advice are you looking for?”
The voice was soft, husky, and dark. It sent a shiver through her
and was very much like the scents in the store: masculine and
soothing.

Suspecting someone was hiding in the darkness
hadn’t bothered her;
knowing
someone was there did. Emma’s
tired senses heightened, but she took a step forward. Her
imagination was strained enough with the events of the past two
weeks that she didn’t need to make monsters out of men sitting
alone in the dark.

“Could you please come out of the dark?” she
said. “I like to see the people mocking me.”

“I’m not mocking you.” His voice was like the
early fall breeze, sweeping over her in a combination of warm and
cool, tickling her ears and the sensitive hairs at the base of her
neck. She shivered.

The man materialized out of the shadows in a
way that brought to mind the warnings from the other shops’ clerks.
He took shape as he moved from total dark to partial light. Shadows
clung to him, obscuring the width and shape of his frame even when
he stood before her. Darkness hovered around him like a cloak,
stretching toward her ...

Emma stepped back. The shadows were gone.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I’m a little
tired.”

She looked up into the man’s face, and her
breath caught. His features were uneven and his eyes close
together, yet his dark aura rendered him mysterious where he wasn’t
necessarily handsome. Sculpted lips were full, and his skin was
olive tinted. A low brow with thick eyebrows hovered over dark,
warm eyes.

“Why don’t you sit down?” he asked in the
quiet voice.

Run like hell,
her instincts urged.
One of his eyebrows quirked, and her tired mind suspected he heard
her thought.

“Please.” His tone softened, a faint smile
tugging up one corner of his mouth. He took her elbow, and the
spell of his gaze released her. She drew a deep breath, surprised
to find she had been holding it, and pulled away.

“Wait,” she said and shook herself mentally.
“First, I’ve wasted a lot of time today, and I can’t afford to
waste more. I need some sort of consultation with someone who
understands … who understands … witchcraft.”

“Why don’t you sit down, and I’ll bring you
some tea?”

“No!” she said more forcefully than she
intended. “I mean, no, thanks. I’m in a hurry. I just need to know
if you can help me.”

“I can. Sit down.” It was not a request, and
before she could pounce on his response, he breezed past her,
brushing her arm. Emma shuddered as a flare of warmth traveled up
her arm. He smelled good, of dewed grasses and sandalwood. She
glanced around, distinguishing a table and two chairs in the corner
into which she hadn’t been able to see a moment before.

A chill swept through her. She swallowed hard
and looked around. She grabbed a small candelabra from the window
and set it on the table before she sat. The dog’s nails clicked as
it drew near.

Animals can sense evil and storms
, she
assured herself, ignoring the small voice that reminded her that
the street was populated by faux vampires in capes the blind dog
seemed to have no problem with.

Tristan emerged from the shadows once again,
his gleaming eyes visible first, then his shape molding from
shadows. She purposely avoided wondering why her mind played the
same trick on her twice and watched him set down the tray. Her eyes
were drawn to the movement of his well-manicured hands. He poured
her a cup of green-brown tea that smelled as calming as the store’s
incense and placed it before her.

He sat across from her, his calf brushing
hers. A shot of warm electricity jarred her, and her leg jerked
upward instinctively, slamming into the table and spilling tea. She
gave a growl of frustration and pain and pulled her knees from
beneath the table, rubbing one. Her face was warm.

“It’s okay. I have plenty,” Tristan said with
another trace of a smile.

She sensed no danger from the angles and
planes of his features, but she sensed no welcome either, as if
they sat on a fence while he assessed her before deciding which way
to push her: to the vampires outside or to the impenetrable shadows
around him. He poured more tea into her cup.

“Thank you,” she murmured. She took a sip of
the sweet, hot brew. The hellhound nudged her.

“She likes you.” Tristan raised his eyebrows
toward his dog. There was warmth in his gaze as he looked at the
blind hellhound. It was the first sign of humanity she’d seen
anywhere on the street.

“Animals are so much better than humans,” she
replied. “I’d take a rabid dog over some of the people I met
today.”

“Dogs are kindred spirits.”

“It would be a nice life, wouldn’t it? Eat,
sleep, roll over and have your belly rubbed.” She sighed. Tristan
chuckled, a sound as dark as the shadows. Despite his strangeness,
she felt her body relaxing in his company, her emotions gaining the
foothold she had denied them the entire day. She looked away before
his gaze could capture her. “I’m looking for some advice.”

“You said witchcraft?”

“I have …” She looked down and around,
realizing she’d forgotten the box. Her eyes swept to her car parked
across the street, where the lumpy shape of a box was visible
against the backdrop of a lit store window. The vampires had
multiplied and moved closer to her car. Despair made her throat
tighten.

“I think I … wow.” She stared at the table,
embarrassed when her gaze blurred with tears. “If you
dare
make a joke about this costing me my soul or making a deal with the
devil, I swear I’ll … I’ll just walk away. Again. I’ve done it a
million times already and will do it again if you laugh at me. But
I’ll show it to you anyway. Excuse me.”

Frustrated and tired, she stepped over the
dog and left the shop. She wiped her face and stalked across the
street, snatched the box, paused for a few deep breaths, and
trotted back to the porch as several of the caped spectators
started toward her.

She entered the shop and found Tristan seated
where she left him, one hand dangling down to pet the hellhound’s
massive head. He watched her with a piercing gaze she avoided, and
she pushed the box onto the edge of the table.

“There. Laugh or whatever so I can be on my
way,” she said.

His gaze slid to the box, lingered, then
returned to her. He didn’t even touch it. Sorrow bubbled within
her. She reached out to grab it, but he caught her hand. Warmth
flared up her arm once more. His palm was calloused; his fingers
gently stroked the sensitive underside of her wrist.

“It’s too late for someone like you to be out
on the Alley. Most people know better than to remain after dark,”
he said.

“I don’t have time to wait ’til morning. Or
eat. Or sleep,” she replied.

“What is your plan? To sleep in your car?” he
asked.

“I lost my keys. I can’t even do that. I’ve
failed at everything,” she said and blinked, surprised at how the
simple touch affected her. Warmth traveled up her arm, easing her
muscles and tension. “I was planning on going door to door until
someone called the cops on me.”

“I own the apartments above the shop. I’ll
loan you a room. You really look like you could use some rest.”

“Do I look that bad?” she said, suddenly
self-conscious with the considering gaze of the handsome stranger
on her.

“Yeah, you do.”

She wasn’t sure how to take his honest
answer. His gentle touch somehow managed to pull the tension out of
her. She had come to Demon’s Alley for help. For the first time in
two weeks, a stranger was offering to assist her. It was not the
help she desperately needed, but it was help nonetheless.

“Thanks. That sounds good,” she murmured.

Tristan turned her hand to expose her palm.
He studied it. She forced herself to draw away finally.

“Better?”

She nodded, in control of her emotions once
again.

“Try some tea.”

She hesitated before taking a sip. Her gaze
went to the box. He hadn’t looked at it after she set it down.

“You’re not interested,” she said sadly.

“I’m very interested.” His heated gaze was on
her, not the box, and his look made her face warm again. “What do
you want to know exactly?”

“I want to know how to counter it, what it
is, where it came from,” she replied with emotion. “I want to know
why
.”

“It’s not something
you
can counter,”
he told her.

“I don’t have a choice,” she said with a
frustrated sigh. “If you have no intention of helping me, please
tell me now and I’ll find someone who will. And please don’t you
dare
make a joke about this costing me my soul.”

“I would ask nothing you couldn’t afford to
give.” His response startled her. There were many things she could
afford
to give! She could afford to give an arm since she
had two. She could afford to give her car, her money, even her
life, so long as she kept her soul. It was not the reassurance she
sought, and her courage faltered for the first time in two weeks.
She studied him carefully, the way shadows molded around him as if
he were one of them.

Would you make a deal with the devil?
She’d asked herself the question many times over the past few days
and always answered yes. Facing the devil, she wasn’t so sure. If
Tristan mentioned her soul, he wouldn’t be joking.

“You can’t have my soul,” she said.

“That you can keep. Soul extraction is too
difficult,” he said. She gasped. Amusement crossed his features.
“Breathe, Emma.”

“How did you know my name?”

“It’s on the box, along with your address. At
least, I assume they’re yours. Is it?”

She nodded, face warming at her
stupidity.

“Any other stipulations?” he asked. “Aside
from your soul?”

“Do you have some sort of contract for
consulting services?” she said.

“I’ll remember.” The resolution in his tone
made her uneasy.

She searched his gaze. “You’re not joking,
are you?”

“No.”

“You really can fix this?” she asked, waving
her hand at the box.

“Yes.”

“What do you charge for such a thing?” she
asked and braced herself for a sum she couldn’t pay.

“Why don’t I tell you when the time comes?”
he offered in a tone too casual for her comfort. “That way if I
fail, it doesn’t matter.”

“I don’t like games,” she responded. “I would
feel more comfortable knowing up front.”

“You.”

Her hands jerked from their place in her lap,
knocking her tea cup on its side. She righted the cup, using her
sleeve to keep the tea from reaching the books on the adjacent
window sill.