Love Charms (96 page)

She clutched her chest and widened her
eyes. “You, you broke my door.”

“Yes I did,” he snarled. “And kick me
again in the balls and I’ll–”

She squeezed one fake tear. “Please don’t
hurt me. I’m sorry. It’s just, a big bad demon shows up at my door and you took
me by surprise. And Lucifer is sending me on this scary quest...” She sniffed.

And he gobbled it up, hook, line, and
sinker. The tension in his body eased, he lost the angry glow in his eyes, and
he even tendered a masculine smile that made her sex tingle in a most annoying
way. It was his drawled, “Sorry, baby, didn’t mean to scare you,” that pushed
her over the edge.

It emerged as a choked sound at first,
but turned into full blown laughter. She clutched her stomach as she laughed,
the best one she’d had in what seemed like ages. And it just got better the
more he scowled.

“Oh,” she gasped in between giggles. “I
can’t believe you fell for that. Did you really think a witch of my caliber and
age would really be so fucking weak?”

“I was being a gentleman.”

She snorted. “Ah yes, because gentlemen
show up at the door all the time expecting the help to drop their panties. And
when refused turn into dinks.”

“Dinks? Wow, little witch, get with the
times. It’s dick. In my case, you could even say big dick.”

“Careful, demon. I’ve shrunken heads
bigger than yours.” Her pointed stare at the stop below his belt buckle had him
growling.

“Witch, you are testing my patience.”

“Then leave.”

“I can’t. My Lord Lucifer has ordered me
to help you, and by all that is evil in this place, I shall, whether you like
it or not. Keep denying me, and I’ll have you screaming with your panties
around your ankles.”

“Ooh, what a big demon, resorting to rape
when he doesn’t get his way.”

“Ha. I don’t need to force a woman. I was
talking about spanking you over my knee, the proper punishment for a woman
who’s acting like a brat. Although, if you’d prefer to scream because I’m
making you cum, just say so. I’m sure you could convince me to hold off on
punishment. Especially if you got on your knees, naked.”

“You are unbelievable.” In more than one
way. It seemed his good looks came with a set of balls that didn’t let him back
down even faced with a woman who could string words into a sentence.
Bet he
doesn’t come across a girl with a brain too often.
In his case, he probably
judged their IQ on the size of their melons.

And what a crude mouth he owned. Who said
ridiculous things like ‘I’ll have you screaming with your panties around your
ankles’? Even scarier, what stupid woman fell for his corny pickup lines?
Not
me.

“I hear that a lot from my lady friends,”
he agreed with a wink.

“And I’ll bet you have plenty as a pole
dancer. Like I said before, I need a tracker, not a Chippendale Demon. So why
don’t you run off and hand-wash your gold lame g-string while I get on with the
job. Don’t worry. I won’t tell Lucifer on you. He might try to stick me with
someone worse, like your even more annoying twin brother.”

“No need to wash anything, little witch,
I prefer to go commando. And while I am flattered you think me attractive
enough to dance for a living, the truth is I am a tracker and fighter – a
damned good one too. So, if you want to be rid of me, the fastest way is for us
to get started.”

She sighed. “You’re not going to leave
are you?”

“Not a chance. So, suck it up buttercup.”

“I am really starting to dislike you.”

“You know what they say: dislike is akin
to lust.”

“That’s not the expression.”

“It is in my world. You wouldn’t be the
first one to tell me you hate me only to rip my clothes off and ride me like a
wild cowgirl.”

“I will not! When we’re done, I’m going
to carve your balls and –”

“Touch my balls with harmful intent and
you’ll be tea-bagging them,” he warned.

Stymied she had to ask. “What the hell
does that mean?”

An enigmatic smile graced his lips. It
made more than her sex tingle, her tits joined the game too, hardening into
points “Why don’t you touch them and find out?”

“Pig.”

“I prefer the term rutting beast. Now, if
we’re done. Do you know who the missing targets are?”

Shooting him a glare, a dirty look he
pretended to not notice, she pointed to the folders Lucifer had delivered to
her home. Sinking onto her couch, the half demon took up a lot of space. She
studied him as he grabbed the first file and read. She bit her tongue before
she asked him if he needed help with the big words. Why she wanted to antagonize
him, she didn’t understand, but she couldn’t deny she enjoyed their verbal
sparring. Most males resorted to brute force when faced with her admittedly
viperish tongue. He disarmed her with words and innuendo. More alarming, it
partially worked.

I’ll bet you it wouldn’t have, though, if
he’d proven butt ugly.

Tall, way taller than her five foot five
frame, his body bulged with muscles covered in tanned skin. He possessed
layered brown hair with gold highlights, vivid turquoise eyes and chiseled
features, including a strong straight nose – surprising because with a
taunting mouth like his she expected he’d gotten it broken more than once in
his life – a square chin, and wickedly full lips that now quirked into a
grin.

“Enjoying the view?” he taunted.

“Deciding what part to carve off your
body first,” she replied. “Do you have a name by the way? Or should I just
refer to you as ‘that asshole’?”

“You can call me Remy, but, when I get
your thighs around my neck, feel free to call me God. It totally pisses Lucifer’s
brother off, which means brownie points for me.”

A blush tried to heat its way into her
cheeks at the mental image he provoked. His nude body, thrusting into her…
Damn, she needed a cold shower and a few minutes alone with her vibrator. “Are
you always this crass?”

“What can I say?” he replied spreading
his hands wide with a beaming smile. “You bring out the best in me. Although,
I’d prefer to sink my best into you,” he winked.

She gaped, more because she lost the
power of speech as a surge of lust raced through her. Totally unacceptable.

As she stomped off to the kitchen for
something to drink – preferably ice cold so she could cool the fever
trying to overtake her body – she wondered at his game. All demons played
one.

Some thrived on violence and mayhem. Some
liked to lie and watch the resulting chaos play itself out. Others liked to
burn things. Kill things. Hunt. Fuck. If it pleased Lucifer, they did it. If it
fed the dark part they all owned, they craved it. Demons weren’t human and thus
didn’t possess the same morals and restraints that conditioned mortal behavior.
Even half ones, like Remy, who appeared human, contained a kernel of bad. And
because of it, they just couldn’t help themselves.

That wasn’t to say all demons were evil,
war mongering psychopaths – even if many were. Despite their love of
mischief and mayhem, the tricky beasts could also love, and prove themselves
trustworthy. But most reserved that aspect of their personality for others of
their kind. They had little time for the damned, who lived out their pitiful
lives in the circles of Hell. They enjoyed humans that still lived on the
surface as one would a pet, a fragile pet that was short lived. As for witches,
the undead and other types of entities roaming the dimension of Heaven, Hell
and the void in between? They mixed, just not often, and when it did occur it
was mostly about fulfilling a sexual need.

A need she’d ignored for five hundred
years, satisfying herself when necessary, alone. Ysabel preferred solitude.
Even with her own kind, she avoided interaction, disliking on sight most
warlocks with their pompous airs. She didn’t trust the other sorceresses, who
especially liked to guard their secrets and power, even if they all worked for
the Lord of the Pit. If she could truly call one person her friend it would be
Nefertiti, the most powerful witch she knew, one with a bevy of lovers. While
Ysabel found her brand of sexual based magic not to her taste, she enjoyed the
nuggets of wisdom – and even more guiltily, the ribald jests –Nefertiti
chose to impart.

Despite her less than inviting
personality, Ysabel inadvertently had a few other friends; a psycho –
with anger issues that could only be resolved by killing things; a lamia
– who went through men as quick as she shed skin; even a vampiress
– who was allergic to human blood. Oh, she shouldn’t forget Muriel,
Lucifer’s daughter, who wouldn’t go away no matter how many times she slammed
the door in her face. Over time, though, she grew quite fond of her. Who
wouldn’t when the girl possessed an uncanny ability to drive the Lord to the
brink of insanity where he yanked his hair and snorted fire? Muriel was quite
the character, and now that she’d settled down, Ysabel at times envied her the
home life she’d found with her fallen angel, gorgeous kitty, and undead hunk.
While a threesome was not her style – heck, she didn’t even care for a
onesome – she couldn’t deny the longing to find the same kind of
happiness as her friend. The bitch.

“Hell to witch. Hell to witch. Do you
read me?”

Snapping back to attention she found the
hot and sexy demon waving his hand in front of her.

“What?”

“I hate to break your obvious fantasy of
me doing delightful things to your body, but, I think I know where to find the
first guy.”

 “Where?”

“According to his file, he’s been having
mirror sex with a human on the mortal side who’s been summoning him. Wanna bet
he’s gone to get himself a piece of ass?”

Having not read the files, her time since
her meeting with Lucifer spent between shopping for clothes that wouldn’t
ignite and cursing him out, she could only trust –
gag
– the
demon’s assessment. If he ended up wrong, then she could always cast a location
spell using some of the blood they’d scraped off the lash used to punish the
damned villagers.

“Can you call a doorway to our target
location?”

A scowl didn’t make him look any less
attractive, the jerk. “No. I didn’t get the right half of demon magic for that.
We’ll have to go through one of the permanent doors.”

“I’ll get my broom.”

“Excuse me?”

She smirked. “Broom, as in
transportation.”

“What’s wrong with stealing a car?”

“A broom is faster because we can fly
straight to our target address from the nearest portal and avoid traffic.”
Batting her lashes at him, she smiled tauntingly. “Don’t tell me the big, bad
demon is scared of riding a broom? Don’t worry, my passengers don’t fall off.
Often.”

With a swish of her hips, she walked away
stifling a giggle at his pained expression reflected in a mirror.
Finally, a
point for the witch.
She should have known he’d get her back.

Chapter
Three

The slender pole of her broom whipped
through the seam of his thighs, emerging from him like a three foot long,
wooden dick. Grabbing a hold of it, he thrust his hips forward and with a grin
said, “Screw Pinocchio’s nose. Now this is what I call wood.”

“Is everything about sex with you?”

“No. I also enjoy conversing about
cunnilingus, masturbation, and the state of Hell’s eco system.” She blinked and
he fought not to chuckle. “What? Don’t’ tell me you’ve not heard about the
overpopulation of our Pit leading to an increase in methane gases which is
impeding the natural fabrication of sulfur.”

“Unbelievable,” she muttered as she
jammed flight goggles onto her head. Not her best look facially, but the rest
of her…Tasty!

Wearing skin tight, black pants, that
hugged an exquisitely round butt, a black turtleneck and knee high boots, she
looked good enough to eat. Or fuck. He wouldn’t quibble.

Grabbing the rod, which made him emit a
groaned, “Yes, baby, that’s it. Pull it,” his partner for the job, straddled
the spot in front of him.

“Hold on tight,” she warned.

Hmm, now that sounded more like it. He
wrapped his arms around her waist, held her snugger than necessary, and inched
up until his groin pressed against her backside.

“Comfortable?” she asked with a wiggle.
Before he could answer, she yanked the broom up, squishing his balls in a most
uncomfortable manner.

Why the hell am I doing this again?
Oh yeah, because a witch with the
naughtiest smirk and taunting attitude dared him. Fuck. The things he did for
his job. Okay, that was a lie. He did this just to prove a point. He wasn’t
scared of–

“Crazy fucking witch!” he shouted as the
broom shot straight up and he held on for dear life while fighting the pain in
his nuts as they got royally squashed by the several G’s now powering the
broom.

Her answer to his bellow of annoyance?

“Wheeee!”

And how was a demon supposed to stay
pissed – even with throbbing balls – when she showed such delight
in soaring through the night sky, her round bottom pressed into his crotch, her
body a perfect fit for his arms? He couldn’t. A smile crossed his lips. Two
could play the game of ‘Bet I can annoy you more.’

Hunching his head, his lips found the
shell of her ear. “Need directions?” He blew softly at the end of his query and
didn’t miss the shiver that went through her.

“I’ve got it programmed in the broom’s
GPS.”

The answer threw him for a loop. In his
mind, technology and brooms just didn’t mix. But, back to her reaction at his
proximity. He whispered again as his arm inched up to brush the underside of
her breasts, a gentle nudge. “So why a broom? Wouldn’t a carpet be more
comfortable? We could have
stretched
out.”

“Actually, armchairs make the comfiest
ride, but brooms are the easiest to control for some reason. And since Harry
Potter, they’ve made a major comeback. Besides, I like going back to my roots.”

“When were you born? The dark ages?”

“I’m almost five hundred and twenty years
old, so yes, the dark ages would be about right.”

“That’s right. You’re a cougar!” he
exclaimed. “I forgot. That is so fucking hot.”

“I am not old! I don’t look a day older
than twenty two which was my age when I died.”

Yeah, he noticed she sported the body of
a nubile woman in her prime. “But inside, you’re a Mrs. Robinson with centuries
of experience to boast. Like I said, fucking hot.”

“You’re a freak.”

“Nope, just totally turned on. Ever make
out on a broom?” He let go of her waist to cup her tits, stroking thumbs over
peaks already straining through the fabric of her top.

She squeaked. The broom bucked. He clung
to her with one arm, but continued to let his other hand play with her breast.

“Stop that.” The voice said no, but the
breathiness of it and the way her bottom pressed against his hard cock said
yes.

“Would you prefer I did this instead?” He
let his hand move lower, cupping her mound through her pants. The heat almost
burned his fingers. A moment, that was all he had to enjoy the humid warmth
between her legs before she flipped the broom upside down and shook it. Still, he
would have stayed on if she hadn’t muttered, “Electrificar.” A zing went
through his arm rendering it numb and he ended up losing his grip and
plummeting.

Good for him, she’d already begun their
descent, so he didn’t have far to go. Bad for him, he landed in a swimming
pool, which considering he wore leather, led to a cold experience he wouldn’t
recommend, especially since with all that weight, he sank.

* * *

Ysabel probably shouldn’t have giggled as
he pulled himself from the pool, water streaming from him in thick rivulets.
But really, what did he expect? Groping her while she drove, making her all hot
and distracted. The jerk. He should count himself lucky. Most guys would have
ended up splattered on the sidewalk. Maybe she didn’t hate him after all.

Hair plastered to his skull, dripping
like a big sea monster, he glowered at her. “You are an evil witch.”

Fluffing her hair she smiled. “Why thank
you. I try my best.”

Keeping an eye on him for violence,
because demons liked to retaliate, she instead gaped as he peeled his leather
vest off, and then his shirt. Cool spring night her ass, someone give her a fan
because it was hot. Knowing he bore a ton of muscle just didn’t prepare a girl
for the in the flesh reality of it. She blinked. Swallowed. Clenched her thighs
tight, but the fire he’d started while fondling her on the broom just keep
burning, hotter and hotter.

“Should I keep going?” he asked with a
grin, his hands on the buckle to his leather pants.

“We have a job to do,” she mumbled,
whirling and stalking toward the condominium where their target hid. And the
job didn’t include Remy working her over with his tongue, hands and dick. Even
if he would agree in a heartbeat and make it feel so fucking good.

I don’t sleep with demons. Or men. Or
anyone. Don’t trust.
Because,
as she well knew, lovers could betray.

Stomping away, she kept reminding herself
of that fact, almost muttered it under her breath as a protective mantra when
he caught up to her, his looming, silent presence not something she seemed able
to ignore. Not wanting to cart their transportation around, she stashed her
broom behind a potted plant by the door. She expected Remy to follow suit with
his wet clothes, but when she turned around, she found him dressed again, a
hint of steam rising from his clothes.

“Figures you’d be a fire demon.”

“It’s what makes me so hot.” He arched a
brow and she snorted.

“Idiot.”

A zap from her finger with a muttered
word that meant
open
in Spanish, and they were in the building. He
crowded her in the elevator and short of staring at the climbing numbers, which
screamed cowardice, she couldn’t avoid him. She met his amused gaze.

“Why are you smiling?” she asked.

“Thanks for the swim. I needed that.
Nothing worse than a major hard on right before a mission.”

“Do you ever temper your tongue?” She
forced herself not to peek lower than his chin.

“Nope. I just let it do what it wants,
and might I say, it does
wicked
things.”

“You’re impossible.”

“No, totally possible, and
unforgettable.”

“Would you get your mind out of your
pants for a second and concentrate on the mission. What’s the plan?”

Leaning against the elevator wall, he
rolled his wide shoulders in a shrug. “Kick the door in. Tackle the escaped
soul. Pin him down while you tag him and send him back to Hell.”

“Um, ever heard of subtlety? What if he’s
not there? What if he’s expected later? What if there’s an army of fucking U.S.
soldiers with guns inside?”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. I won’t kick
down the door. What’s your plan?”

What did hers consist of? “We’ll knock
first.”

“And?”

“I’ll ask if Pedro is there.”

“Really? Because I’m sure this girl isn’t
going to think it’s weird that some strange chick is showing up at her door at
eleven o’clock at night looking for the ghost she’s been conjuring at night for
mirror sex.”

The frown she bestowed upon him just made
him smile. “I’ve got a new plan,” he announced.

“Does it involve kicking down the door
again?”

“Nope.”

“Are you going to set up a pole and
dazzle her with your dancing skills?”

“Nope, but I like the way you mind works.
Here’s my idea: you knock on the door and do your thing; talk, lull her into a
false sense of security, pump her info, pull out her fingernails one by one.
Whatever works for you. While you keep her occupied, I’ll slip into her place
from the balcony.”

“How are you going to get to her
balcony?”

“Leave that to me.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she
muttered.

The smile on his full lips got wider.
“Don’t worry, my sexy cougar. We’ll catch the prick and send him back to Hell.
Then you can thank me. Preferably naked. On your knees or back. I’m not picky.”

Yeah, he totally deserved the punch in
the gut that time. Of course, it hurt her fist more than him seeing as how he
was made of granite. The elevator dinged, and, shooting him a dirty look while
massaging her knuckles, she exited. He didn’t.

“Aren’t you coming?”

“I hope to later.”

She growled.

He grinned. “You know that look is sexy
right?” He laughed at her scowl. “Lighten up, little witch. Just give me five
minutes before you knock. You do your thing. I’ll do mine and we’ll be out of
here in no time.”

“Why don’t I believe that,” she grumbled.

The elevator doors slid shut leaving her
alone. Oddly, despite only meeting him today she kind of missed him. Demon,
pain in the ass or not, he somehow made her feel alive when he was around.
Too
alive,
she amended wryly, her body still tingling from his touch and
nearness. Why him, and why now?

She’d spent five hundred years easily
avoiding males. Not desiring or needing one at all. Then, the most vulgar
– good looking – annoying – with a wicked body – demon
showed up, and suddenly she wanted to strip naked and dance around him like
she’d not had an urge to since the last Beltane she celebrated while still
alive.

Jerk.

There would be no naked dancing around or
on his pole. Nor any tonguing or other things he’d enjoy too much. Never mind
she’d enjoy them too. The man was a womanizing pig. Worse even than Francisco,
because Remy didn’t even bother to hide it.

It’s men like him that make me glad I’ve
sworn off relationships.
And
no, she didn’t care to dwell on the fact the nights were lonely, her dildo not
cuddly, and her life boring. She would not go through the pain and heartache
that came from a lover’s betrayal again.

Not having a watch, she didn’t really
know how much time went by since she and Remy parted ways. She tapped her foot,
paced up the hall and peeked around the corner, waited until her patience ran
out, then approached the door of her target.

Three quick raps and she stood back,
trying to appear benign. The door crept open and a wary eye, lined in dark
kohl, peered out.

“What do you want?” the girl asked
suspiciously.

“I was looking for Pedro. I heard he made
it out of that awful prison and I wanted to congratulate him.” Ysabel pasted on
a fake smile.

The orb peering at her narrowed. “How do
you know about Pedro?”

“We met through our mirror talks, well,
more like mirror sex.” Ysabel forced out a false giggle. “That man sure has a
way with words. Especially dirty ones. He told me about you. Said you were one
hot conjurer. He also told me when he got out, we should all hook up together,
if you know what I mean.” Ysabel winked and licked her lips.

The door partially closed but only so the
woman on the other side could remove the chain with a rattle. The portal swung
open and Ysabel walked into a psychedelic acid trip. Seriously, the tie-die
murals, eye-popping cushions on the couch, everything screamed welcome to the
seventies – an era she’d experienced second hand on television.

The owner of the place appeared a
throwback to the hippy days as well, with her long straight brown hair, flowing
patterned skirt and the jangling hoops covering her arms. Ysabel didn’t peruse
her for long. The human didn’t interest her. Turning away, she surveyed the
apartment, looking for signs of Pedro.

In his late twenties when she collected
his soul, after killing him with a garrote, Pedro was a true asshole. Married
to a meek woman, he cheated with anything willing to spread its legs. Some said
even the farm animals weren’t safe from his advances. He was one of the men who
came to fetch her for the pyre. He took great delight in groping her as he
carried her to her punishment. Leered as he slid a hand up her skirt under the
pretext of looking for a weapon. Whispered disgusting things while he tied the
rope. The pervert even sported a hard on as she burned, watching in slack jawed
excitement.