Demons Like It Hot (7 page)

“All right, already. I know you’re old, dude. No need to keep beating that in.”

“I was not.”

“So you say.” She tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “But if you plan on wearing those weapons into the mall, security will be on you like white on rice.”

“Normal humans shouldn’t be able to see my weapons.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you need to realize—no matter how hard you try to hide it—you are not normal.”

“I’ve got news for you. No one is normal. Everyone is unique in their own special way. Even century-old demons.”

“Centuries.”

“You know what I mean.” Curiosity bit her in the butt. “How old are you exactly?”

“I was born in 1194.”

Whoa!
He was a lot older than Rafe… by at least three centuries. “When did you die?” He couldn’t have been that much over thirty.

He opened his mouth to answer, then shut it, a deep scowl etched on his face. “I prefer to keep my previous life private, Ms. SanGermano. No offense.”

Irritating, yet that aura of mystery nagged at her. Why in the hell was she so interested in him? “Fine, but the mall closes soon, and you definitely need some less conspicuous clothes. I didn’t tell Lucy, but I’m trying out for
American
Chef
.”

“What?”

“I’m trying out for
American
Chef
.”

“I forbid it.”

“Well, you know, you’re not my dad, and last I checked I was twenty-nine years old. I’m old enough to make my own decisions.”

Not one of her most brilliant and well-thought-out ideas, but she needed the publicity. And, unfortunately, there was a kill clause in the contract. She couldn’t back out now.

“I sort of signed a contract. The host of the show is meeting me tomorrow.”

“This isn’t safe.”

“But now I have a big bad bodyguard to protect me, so what’s the big deal?”

“I’ll need to discuss this with Rafael. This complicates matters.”

“It’s
American
Chef
, not
Hell’s Kitchen
.” And thank goodness for that. If there was one chef that could be a demon, Gordon Ramsay was it.

Matthias stood to his full six-foot-four height, his eyes smoldering. “I don’t care if it’s the bloody
700 Club
, inviting the public means inviting trouble. You don’t need any more trouble.”

No, what she didn’t need was a huge hulk of a man—
scratch
that
—demon, controlling her every move. Being a bodyguard and protecting her was one thing. Ordering her around like a child was another. She wasn’t a teenager. She was an adult.

“I need publicity. I’ve had a dry spell. This TV gig will bring in more business.” She stood to her full five-foot-six stature in a pathetic attempt to meet his glare. “As for
The
700 Club
, Pat Robertson will be the last person on my invite list.” She brushed a finger along her cheek. “How do you know about television? I figured you’d been too busy dealing with your demonic military company.”

“Just because I’m a demon doesn’t mean I don’t keep track of modern religion and political beliefs. I need to stay on top of trends if I’m supposed to blend in.”

She let the sarcasm roll off her tongue. “Well, you’re doing a smashing job so far. Because everyone in America feels the need to dress up like an extra from
Apocalypse
Now
. No pun intended.”

“I didn’t have time to get civilian clothes.”

“I’m sure Rafe would lend you some of his clothes but something tells me leather really isn’t your thing.” And she doubted he’d fit Rafe’s pants anyway. Her heart thudded again. Her breath caught. Muscles bunched and rippled with his every move. She trained her gaze lower—to his hands. They were big, yet elegant—well, as elegant as a military man’s hands could get.

Hands like that could grip parts of her body tight. What? Where did that come from?

He gripped the side of the desk. Any tighter and the dark mahogany would splinter. Hands like that could kill.

Serah gulped. She needed to keep her distance from him. He was a demon—and a rather large, dangerous one at that. And the aura of mystery that surrounded him didn’t help matters much either. The way he avoided her questions meant one thing. He was hiding something. Then again, he was a mercenary. Not the most honorable job in the world—or the netherworld.

But, first, she needed to get him in new clothes. “The mall is going to close soon, unless you’d rather shop at the Super M-Mart. They’re open twenty-four hours a day. Not as expensive, but cheaper quality.”

“Money is no issue.”

She snorted. “I figured as much. Green’s Corner it is. There’s a designer big and tall shop in the shopping center. I’ve obviously never shopped there.” But the live models in the window always got her attention—you’d have to be dead not to notice them. Then again, none of those men had anything on Matthias. Centuries of battle experience—human and demonic—would do that to a man.

“Is this necessary? I happen to like my clothes.”

“I just think it would look awkward to have you dressed like Rambo. My customers might not like it.” Not to mention the T-shirt he wore strained too tight against the ridges of his muscles. She needed to concentrate. Him standing there in military gear twenty-four-seven wouldn’t help matters at all.

“Fair enough.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest. His words came out strained. “I am at your mercy.” His gaze seared and his jaw remained firm. Hard. No softness anywhere.

Her heart continued to thump. She swallowed the lump that kept forming in her throat. No, he’d never be at her complete mercy. Men—demons—like him never were. And for some reason that naughty corner of her didn’t mind that one bit. The sooner she got this man into some normal clothes, the better—for the sake of her practical side.

“Watch out!”

The command echoed in her eardrums. She slammed on the brake, sending her new GMC Terrain screeching. She wasn’t known for having the best driving skills, but having such a bulking presence with her sent her mind reeling and her car swerving.
Focus, girl
.
Don’t let him get to you.

Too late. He already had—in more ways than one.

“Sorry.” She adjusted her sunglasses and pulled down the mirror. “Sun was in my eyes.” No need telling him the truth. He’d make up his own assumptions anyway.

Shrugging, he pulled out his own sunglasses. The
Top
Gun
-style aviator glasses nearly completed his military guise. Just add a wide-brimmed hat and he’d make a perfect gunnery sergeant. “Just be careful. I can’t have you getting hurt on my first day on the job.”

His brusque tone sent shivers through her body. Her lower lip trembled. As if she really cared that all he was concerned about was his damn mission. He had made it clear that he didn’t want to be here, any more than she wanted his protection. Why did that thought rip at her insides?

“That wouldn’t be good at all, would it?” she asked, her tone biting. With a little more force than needed, she turned left onto A-Line Road. The SUV’s tires screamed in reply. Good Terrain. Just the response she wanted.

Matthias gritted his teeth and clung to the handle. What was with these demons and their aversion to driving? Even Rafe had a similar reaction to Lucy’s driving, and she wasn’t nearly as bad behind the wheel. Who was she kidding? She was tons better than Serah.

“Damn it, woman,” he said through clenched teeth. “Deleon didn’t mention you needed protection behind the wheel too.”

“Must have slipped his mind.” Just like it slipped his mind to tell her they were hiring a bodyguard—a bodyguard she didn’t need. She yanked on the steering wheel, sending him crashing against the passenger side window. With a grunt, he shook his head.

“Unholy Hades. Who did you bribe to get your license?”

She slid into the right lane. “I got it out of a Cracker Jack box. I wouldn’t talk. You probably learned to drive on a chariot.”

“I’m not that old.”

“Could have fooled me. You sure act like it.” With another hard right, she turned into Green’s Corner. As she drove by the abundance of shops that lined the shopping center, she glanced over at Luscious Locks, Lucy’s salon.

“Is that where you and Lucia unleashed Belial’s minions?”

If that wasn’t a barb, she didn’t know what was. “Yes, that’s where Lucy opened the chest. And for the record, I tried to stop her.”

“I apologize.” He turned to face her, his gaze penetrating into her pores. “I know it wasn’t you who opened the
Arca
Inferorum
. You’re too pure.”

“I’m not a virgin.” Oh, dear. Did she just say that out loud? Like he wanted to know about her sex life, or lack of it for that matter. It was a pretty boring story at that.

Matthias blew out a deep breath, his brow creasing with frustration. “Your soul is pure. Even certain intimacies do not diminish that.”

How about sex with a demon? Not that she would have a chance to find out. He was too uptight and militaristic. Not her type at all. Yep, that was her story and she was sticking to it.

“Fine, whatever you say.” With that, she turned into the nearest parking spot and slammed on the brakes. Matthias pitched forward, then back, and the seat groaned. With a small smile curving her lips, Serah shifted into park and turned the key. “We’re here.”

He shifted in the seat and unhooked his seat belt. “I don’t know what I need to protect you from more—the Infernati or your driving.”

Oh, he had a sense of humor. “Neither,” she said, pulling the keys out of the ignition. “That was for show. I’m not nearly that bad.”
But
not
by
that
much.

“I’ll do the driving from now on.” With calculated precision, he swung the door open. “The sooner we get this done, the better.”

If he planned on acting this stiff through the entire ordeal, she couldn’t have agreed more.

“My sentiments exactly.” Flinging her seat belt off, she ripped open the door. Shopping with Lucy had always been a chore. This would prove to be pure torture.

A loud hiss rent the air followed by a high-pitched shriek.
For
God’s sake. Not now!
Matthias sprung from car and clutched the dagger strapped to his belt. “Serah! Stay in the car.”

Two balls of fur flew in the air and attached themselves to his T-shirt. Claws flying, they swept at his arms and face. Matthias swung out his arm, sending a black-and-white ball of fur flying.

“Reooooooooooooooow!” came a screech.

The fluffy white Persian lifted her paw, long sharp claws, ready to slice.

Serah flew from the car and pounded her fist on the hood. “Inanna! No!”

Inanna’s long fluffy tail slashed back and forth and her bright green eyes flared. She gave a low menacing hiss.

You
are
in
danger. I sense a darkness about him.
Inanna’s Middle Eastern accent sang in her mind.

“It’s okay, Inny. Go home,” Serah said, as she stood tall, hands on her waist.

Mr. Whiskers moaned as he rolled on the ground, dust and dirt coating his black-and-white fur.

“Meowwwwwww,” he groaned out.

Ah
thooght
Ah
was
yer
new
bodyguard!
Mr. Whiskers sprang to his paws and shook dirt from his head. “Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrowl.” He angled his head and licked his hind leg. With a reluctant shrug, he sidled next to his Persian kittyfriend and winked.

Matthias swept a piece of shredded fabric from his arm. “Mr. Whiskers, I presume?”

Mr. Whiskers sat on its hind legs and extended a paw. With the swiftness even a normal cat shouldn’t possess, he extended each claw.

“Don’t let the size fool you. Mr. Whiskers is one badass cat.”

With wary steps, Mr. Whiskers slunk toward Matthias. With a predatory gleam flashing in his green eyes, he continued to circle.

“Mr. Whiskers, cut it out. For real, he’s with me.”

Inanna growled low, sliding down Matthias’s chest. Her claws slit the rest of his T-shirt into shreds.

With a soft snort, Mr. Whiskers turned to Serah and puffed out his chest. His green eyes flashed with question.

Why
him?

She shrugged. She seriously didn’t know. He didn’t want to be there. She didn’t really want him there. Then again, that was usually the Council’s MO. “I honestly don’t know.”