Accidentally Demonic (15 page)

“Clay!” Wanda looked around, her wide eyes full of caution and worry. “Watch what you say,” she muttered almost under her breath.

Clay’s broad hand only gripped the now- wary man’s shoulder harder. “No need. We understand each other, don’t we, friend?” he asked the now-cowering, not so arrogant after all, man.

The unidentified man was quick to nod his agreement, the look of confidence he’d worn shriveling into a weak smile of apology. “Completely.” But his eyes sought Casey’s. “So I guess I’ll see you around,
kjæreste,
” was his last suggestive remark before he slunk out of the coffee shop, leaving Wanda and Casey with bewildered gazes lancing his back.

The anger that had so consumed her fizzled, but the million questions she had running through her brain didn’t.

Yet Wanda was the one to voice them. “What did he just call you? What language was that?”

“Scandinavian—Swedish, I think. Maybe Norse.” Clay answered the question from between stiff lips, then turned his rapt attention toward the front of the store.

Casey directed her gaze at Wanda, irritation littering her response. “You ask that like I might actually have an answer, Wanda. I have no answer for why he thought I was anyone other than mousy Casey Schwartz—or why he seemed to think he had a right to plant his hand on my . . . butt like we’ve always known each other. And I definitely don’t know why he seemed to think we had prior, uh,
knowledge
of each other. If I’m honest, there are very few who do know me in
that way
, and they definitely don’t frequent coffee shops talking about it because it probably wasn’t nearly as memorable as the encounter I supposedly had with that man. An encounter I either can’t remember, or forgot in a fit of passion, because, you know, I’m supernatural now and can’t be held responsible for what happens during my blackouts.”

Clay put his hand on her lower back, propelling her forward in the line while whispering in her ear. “I did warn you there’d be those who’d recognize you as a demon, didn’t I? Yep, yep, I did. And that was exactly why I told you not to leave the apartment without one of us. But nooooo, instead, you take a chance like maybe setting a coffeehouse on fire—or worse.You’re a real walk-a-tightrope kind of girl, huh? FYI, he was a demon.”

In Starbucks? “No shit?”

Clay looked down at her from behind his dark glasses. “Nope. No shit.”

“So that was about the thing Darnell told us about? You know, the bit about me attracting other demons?”

“Yes, and you have to be very careful who you incite, Casey. Threats of bodily harm might only provoke a wrath you can’t yet handle, and I might not be around to take care of it. If I’d known you were going to be this hard to keep track of, I’d have handcuffed you to my side. Under any other circumstance, I guarantee that’d be fun. But I get the impression you’re not into that.”

Said who? Her mental gasp whistled through the corridors of her brain. She was not the kind of girl who—who—used paraphernalia.

Casey pressed her fist to her lips in an anxious move.

“So in other words, when I say can it, you damned well better can it, young lady!” Wanda admonished, swatting her on the shoulder. “I tell ya, kiddo, you’re almost as bad as Nina is when she rages. It’s like you can’t hear or see anything but how angry you are.You have some serious tunnel vision. If we’re ever going to get control of this, you’re going to have to start trying harder and help me help you.”

Babysit her was more like it. Casey was beginning to understand why Lola and Lita were so resentful of her constant presence. Their father had hired her to escort them wherever they went because they got into constant trouble, and it was always public. She was damage control. How ironic that Clay and Wanda now held the same tedious position she did. “I didn’t want to wake you, Wanda. You were sound asleep and you looked so comfortable. You’ve been sleeping on an uncomfortable couch, missing Heath, and babysitting me day and night for almost four days now. I figured you deserved a break—and who knew I could get into any trouble with a quick trip to Starbucks? I mean, honestly, who would ever suspect that me, Casey Louise Schwartz, would have some strange man accost me and my ba- donk-a-donk in broad daylight like he had every right to?”

Clayton stuck his head around her shoulder. “What’s a
ba
-donk-a-
donk
?”

“My ass.”

“He touched your ass?”

“Like he’d done it a million times before.”

“I’ll
kill
him.”

Casey made a face at him. “If you would have just left me alone, I could have done that myself. So how is it you’re helping me?”

“No,” Wanda intervened, shaking her finger at Clay. “You won’t. I don’t need the both of you as a tag team to deal with, okay? He’s gone now. Casey knows what he looks like, and if she ever encounters him again, she can turn the other cheek—or cool her fingertips in a bucket of ice—whatever it takes.”

“That’s part of the problem, Wanda. He could show up in another form and Casey’d never know. It’s pretty important she begin to learn to smell another demon—and soon. That’s why you shouldn’t go anywhere without at least one of us, because we can smell a demon.” Clay yawned on his last words, making Casey feel enormous guilt that he wasn’t getting the kind of vampire beauty sleep he claimed he so needed.

“What are you doing here anyway? Last I saw you, you were sound asleep on the floor in my closet. I think I even bumped into you when I was trying to find my loafers, and you didn’t budge.” The eerie sleep Clay fell into was almost comatose. There was no breathing involved to begin with, but to see him immobile like that was too much like dead for her. Of course, he was technically
dead
, and she couldn’t dwell on that or she’d probably never come back from the place called crazy.

Wide shoulders, thickly muscled, rippled beneath his shirt when he shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. I just woke up and had a sense you needed me. So I came. But it’s a good thing I wasn’t alseep more than an hour or so, or there’d be no waking me and you’d have ended up making a morning coffee run an affair to remember for these people.”

On tippy toe, Casey rose to whisper in his ear so no one around them would hear her. His incredibly sexy, dreamy ear that was right near his thick fall of hair, hair she wanted to grab between her fingers and tug hard at while he . . . whoa, Nellie. Clearing her throat, she asked, “Is it that vampire GPS thing?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Casey.You’re not vampire. Clay can’t sense you the way he can another of his kind.” Wanda said it with a cluck of her tongue like Casey should know all the paranormal rules and edicts just because she’d been inducted into demonicness.

“Is there some kind of rule book you two might want to loan me? So I can maybe study all these magical powers you have, and I won’t always feel like odd man out?”

Wanda’s blue eyes rolled up into her head. “No. You just learn as you go, and I learned a vampire can’t track anyone else unless the other person’s a vampire, or their mate. Neither of which you are.”

Casey couldn’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses, but she felt Clay’s body stiffen. Which was a lovely event that she should stop thinking about right now. “No. Wanda’s right. It wasn’t GPS because you’re not a vampire, but it did disturb a perfectly good sleep. I’m old. Really old. I need eight or I’m just not the same vampire,” was all he offered before he ushered Casey to the counter where she placed her order, fighting to keep her words clear with his hand at her back.

Coffee ordered, the trio left to head back to the apartment. Clay’s cell disturbed her deep train of thought. She watched him flip open the phone and it was obvious he recognized the caller. His face softened in a much different way than she’d seen so far, and the smallest smile touched the corner of his lips. “Can’t talk right now, but I promise to call you later, okay?” He smiled again, like he was sharing some secret with someone special.

The green-eyed monster’s hand gathered up her gut and twisted her intestines. What she’d seen of Clay thus far had been anything but soft and cuddly—funny, quick to crack wise, yes. A gooey inside? It just didn’t compute. That he shared that secret tone of voice and that good- natured smile so easily with whoever was on the other end of the phone made her want to scream. Ridiculous, no doubt. They hardly knew each other.

But still . . .

When they made it back to the apartment, Clay and Wanda took the service elevator up while Casey made like everything was as normal as normal could be so as not to raise suspicion. “Morning, Roosevelt.” She waved one hand cheerfully while juggling the carrier of coffee and heading for the door he held open.

Roosevelt tipped his hat in her direction, tucking his free hand between the folds of his uniform jacket. “Mornin’, Miss Schwartz. You catch your early- mornin’ visitor? I told her I wasn’t sure if you was up yet.”

“Visitor?” There hadn’t been any scheduled interviews for today that she could recall. She’d checked her day planner the night before to be sure. No one came in or out of the building for the Castalanos who wasn’t authorized unless she was aware of it. “Was it someone for the girls?”

“No, ma’am. Said she was here for you.”

“Me?” Maybe Nina or Marty had shown up? They’d both promised Wanda they’d come take her away from her Casey-sitting duties for lunch and shopping.

“Yes, ma’am. Said she wanted to talk to you—that she was a friend. I didn’t let her up ’cause you didn’t give me the okay, but she said she’d call you.”

Nina was closer to Manhattan than Marty was. “Was she tall with long, dark hair—really, really pretty in a scary, sort of thug way?”

His eyes crinkled when he smiled, almost swallowed whole by his puffy, pinchable cheeks. “Oh, no, ma’am. She was a blonde, but not like those blondes who ain’t really blondes, if you know what I mean. She was so blonde, it was almost white, real pretty and tall, a sturdy-lookin’ gal.”

Definitely not Nina, or even Marty. “Did she leave her name?”

He pulled a slip of paper out of his coat with gloved fingers and read the word on it. “Yes, ma’am. Hildegard, no last name. Funny name, huh? If she comes back around again, you want I should send her up?”

Hildegard. What an odd name, but saying it in her head set her gut on fire with an odd intuition. Keeping her face as serene as possible so as not to alert the doorman, she nodded. “Please do, and thanks, Roosevelt. I can always count on you.” Casey gave him a pat on the arm.

“You okay, Miss Schwartz?” His eyes cast downward to his shiny, black shoes as though he were embarrassed. “I know you had some trouble the other night, and I been meanin’ to ask if you was okay. But I know you, Miss Schwartz, and I know you was only lookin’ out for those two wild ones. I’m just about as sorry as anybody can be it landed you in the pokey.”

Yeah. Sorry. Everyone was sorry for poor Casey. She shot him a grateful smile. “I’m fine, Roosevelt. It’s all okay.”

His head dipped low and he frowned. “I hope you don’t mind me sayin’, and I almost don’t care if you do, but it ain’t okay if you got a po-lice record because a those two. Bad enough you ain’t got no life to call your own, a nice, pretty young girl like you, but to go to the pokey for them without even havin’ some fun before ya did is just plain wrong.”

His sympathy touched her. She hadn’t been aware anyone noticed how little she did without the twins—or for that matter, cared. “Really, Roosevelt, it’s okay. I was just doing my job. It’s over for now, and I absolutely have to get these up to the girls before they wake up, but thanks for your concern.” Smiling again, she headed for the elevators. She had bigger fish to fry than Lola and Lita. And the fish had a name.

Hildegard.

Pressing the button for the penthouse, Casey gnawed on her lower lip. She just knew this Hildegard had to do with Clay. Why, she had no explanation. No one ever showed up here for her—especially not sturdy, blond gals. Forgetting about delivering the girls’ coffee, Casey headed straight for her quarters the moment the elevator doors swished open. Rushing into the living room, she dropped the coffee on her kitchen table and cornered Wanda, snuggled on the couch with one of her romance novels. “Where’s the vampire?”

“Vampire napping.”

Turning on her loafer-clad heel, Casey headed for her walk- in closet, a surprising luxury in what was termed the “servants’ quarters,” where Clay chose to sleep because it was almost big enough for him to lie completely flat on the floor, and dark enough for a vampire to get some shut-eye. She didn’t knock before she pushed open the door, letting the light from her bedroom spill over him.

Fuckall if, even though she absolutely knew he had something to do with this Hildegard, she couldn’t catch her breath when she found him fast asleep, using her duffle bag for a pillow. He lay with his arms straight out at his sides. Strong arms that gave way to hands she wanted all over her out-of-whack body. Navy blue boxer-briefs were all that was between her and him—naked. His chest didn’t rise or fall, but his pecs begged for a tired head to rest on them. His chest was hairless but for the patch of dark, wiry curls that narrowed to a frustrating point on his belly and slipped beneath his underwear.

Damn his night-dwelling ass for being so beef-cakey.

Sitting on her haunches, Casey poked his chest with a quick finger. Where Clay was concerned, it was best not to linger. When he didn’t stir, she leaned in farther, putting her lips as close to his ear as she could without touching it.

Whatever cologne he wore, it was an olfactory orgasm. Casey took a deep whiff before whispering, “Clay. Wake up. I need to talk to you.”

His lips tilted upward a fraction of an inch, but still he didn’t stir.

“Claaaaaayyyy,” she singsonged again, breathy and light.

Nothing.

Bracing her hands on the floor, she moved in closer, keeping the impulse to bury her nose in his hair to herself. “Hey! Vampire—get up!”