Once You Go Demon (Pure Souls) (18 page)

Neither one of them remembered who suggested cracking open the first bottle of wine. They downed their second glass and were contemplating a third when Dee came in to check on them. He retreated with a glass of his own, plus one for his sister who had just arrived.

“You know the saying ‘my goose is cooked’?” Riona asked as she poured out a third cup for she and Jerry. “I’ve never actually seen cooked goose. Don’t you think they should say ‘my turkey is cooked’? I mean, everyone’s seen a cooked turkey.”

Jerry laughed. “Goose isn’t as common as it used to be, but believe me, it had its time and place. Most people didn’t know what a turkey was and how delicious they could be until America was discovered. And then once Big Macs hit …” He winked.

Riona tilted her head and stared at him in awe. “Wow.”

“What?”

“It’s just, back when we were … you know, together, I didn’t know what you were. I couldn’t realize how long you’ve been around. But it’s been a really, really long time, hasn’t it?”

“I guess.” He tapped his palette with his tongue as he savored the tannins. “Older than certain parts of the Bible, and all that.”

“All the things you must have seen.”

Jerry shrugged. “Not as much as you’d think. Yeah, I always knew what was going on in general up top, but unless I was on a mission, I wasn’t too involved. Being eternal by becoming a demon isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” he added sarcastically.

“And what was that like?” Jerry’s blank stare forced her to clarify. “Becoming a demon.”

“It was …” His eyes turned up to the ceiling, as though a selection of words he might use were written on it. “… awesome.”

“Jerry!” She made a half-sincere attempt to admonish him, grabbing a potholder and hurling it at his head.

“What? You asked.” He caught the red-and-gold monstrosity out of the air and threw it back at her. He didn’t miss the threat of a smile on her face. “You remember your awakening, right?”

Riona’s blush was all the answer he needed. Even with his sexual prowess built up over centuries of practice and bolstered by a superhuman endowment, he knew anything he’d done to her between the sheets couldn’t compare to that rush.

Big Boss would always hold the title for handing out the biggest thrill.

“Well, think about that, but instead of fueled by light, it’s fueled by sin. One of the reasons humans fall for sin so easily is because in the moment, it feels so fucking good. You wake up after Lucifer’s repurposed your soul feeling like you could do anything, be anything, go anywhere. The rush of a demon awakening makes the Pure Soul experience look like foreplay. Really bad foreplay. With someone who is partially paralyzed. And wearing oven mitts.”

“You make it sound like something to look forward to.”

He caught her eyes just in time to see her lips pull tight. She flashed away her gaze and took a hastened sip of her wine.

“Is this curiosity or research?”

She retorted with an exaggerated laugh. “I’m … just ... You know, because Marc …”

“Right, because of Marc.”

Turning, Jerry placed his flute on the counter. He squared his gaze and his shoulders. Riona gasped when she found herself caged, Jerry’s arms anchored against the countertop and his body leaning against her.

“Then you should know the whole story.” His lips spoke so close to hers, he could feel Riona quiver beneath him. “It’s all downhill from there. Lucifer makes a demon body feel every physical pleasure the mortal world has to offer, and a few more that only dark magic can give. But your soul is severed from the light. You go numb to it, and grow to loathe it. It’s a rare demon that’s able to feel anything again: joy, love, benevolence, hope. Yeah, especially hope. Lucifer controls you, makes you addicted to the rush, all the while letting your soul stew in guilt, greed, lust, and horror. You want to die, but he keeps blinding you. You keep doing his will so he’ll keep numbing the darkness with passion, then he releases you on the world to bring mortal men down with the demon.”

“But not Marc. He’ll be able to …”

Riona tried to push Jerry away, but he clasped her wrist and pulled them behind her back, pushing her body hard against his.

“Marc will be just like I used to be. He’ll be evil, just like I was. He’ll seduce you, just like I did. And when he discovers a sin that will give you a ticket to Hell, he’ll punch it, just like I did. He’ll mask your corruption in a haze of physical pleasure—”

Riona stilled as Jerry’s mouth skated downward, his lips moving over the flesh of her neck. Her chin lifted, allowing him access. “—just like I would, if I were in his position.”

“You were in his position,” Riona chocked out. “You were redeemed.”

He backed his head and looked longingly at her lips. “You really think Big Boss is going to make that happen twice? Besides, I’m going to end up right back in Hell for the things I want to do to you right now. But if you really want to think about it in a way that tells you of why it’s really a bad idea, consider how demon Marc will feel when theoretical demon Riona is sent out on Satan’s behalf to screw more people than Enron.”

“Let me go!” Squirming did no good. He only used it to maneuver himself closer.

“No, I’m not holding back anymore. I love you. And maybe you don’t love me yet, but I know you used to. And, by God, Riona, you’re going to again.”

As Riona’s eyes narrowed, Jerry knew he’d have to put up posters to recover his lost scruples. He was on the edge of kissing her despite lips pulled tight enough he could have billed her dental insurance for the exam, when the kitchen timer began to beep. Divine signs came in many forms: lightning, floods, rainbows, Nikki Minaj’s rise to fame … This time it came in the form of a wide-eyed chicken whose body had been sectioned off into a sixty-minute scale.

“Turkey’s done,” Riona grumbled as she tried to tug herself out of his embrace. “And so are we.”

“Like Hell, we are!”

Jerry hooked his arms around her back, holding her right wrist with his left hand and using the form to push the upper half of Riona’s body against him. His mouth worked against hers and his tongue begged entrance. That damn chicken timer was screaming its head off, but the only noise he cared about was the traitorous moan rumbling through Riona, giving away her true emotions.

“Do you have any idea how much I want you?” He turned his attention to her neck as she tilted her head back and laced her fingers through his hair, drawing him in. “I’ve dreamed of having you in every way possible since the moment I woke up in your apartment.”

“Jerry, I …” He felt her throat bob as she swallowed hard. He could feel the shadow of her reticence cloud her thinking. “I shouldn’t ...”

“No!” He created just enough space between them to flash his eyes at her. “Fuck shouldn’t, Riona. Embrace can. Embrace will. Embrace now. Embrace me.”

A single second they stilled, and then Riona threw her arms around him. Her lips … Goddess in glory, her lips. So soft, but firm, and hungrily demanding his attention. Jerry folded her into his embrace as she worked her lips over his. He felt like she was trying to crawl inside him, desperate in her clutching. Jerry’s hands sank to her hips as he gripped her, a moment later lifting her body and depositing her on the counter, using his hips to step into her and part her legs.

He had her hard and writhing already. As his hands let go of her middle and circled around her, Jerry cupped her cheeks as he pushed the hardening proof of his hunger against her. All the time, their tongues tangoed. When he drew back, it was only because he was afraid he’d kill her if he didn’t let her breathe. For his own part, he thought it a good way to die.

Gasping, she suddenly looked confused. “I shouldn’t be doing this. It’s just because I’m drunk. I know it.”

“Riona, stop. Stop thinking desire is evil. I know evil, and that ain’t evil.” He pecked again at her lips. “But I also know wicked, and the things I’m planning on doing to you? Yeah, wicked.”

“But dinner …” She searched his eyes for guidance.

“Screw dinner,” Jerry hissed as he angled his mouth back to hers. “I want to devour you.”

“Well, that’s great, but it would leave the rest of us really hungry.”

They both went rigid at the sound of Dee’s voice. There he stood in the entry of the kitchen; half-amused, half-disgusted. And if mixed numbers weren’t forbidden, half-perplexed.

“Looks like you’ve already had her tongue for an appetizer, and I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t be willing to share.”

“Dee!”

The demigod rolled his eyes. “You do realize your mother’s been sitting out there for two hours, asking about you. I’m having problems convincing her you’re actually in the kitchen cooking, and I’m starting to feel a little creepy the way she keeps undressing me with her eyes. So if that damned egg timer of yours doesn’t mean dinner’s ready, I need to know, because I’m pretty sure I’ll have to set the house on fire as an excuse to leave.”

“Damn it. Sorry, Dee. She still thinks she’s twenty-five and hot. You have my permission to tell her you usually get tips for being gawked at like a piece of meat.”

“The bird’s done.” Jerry had backed away, but his hands still rested on her hips, and hers on his shoulders. “We’ll have everything out in a few minutes.” As Dee left, Jerry turned his attention back to Riona, motioning between them. “This isn’t over.”

But Riona had come back down to Earth. “Yes, it is. That was a mistake. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have let you do that and I’m …” Riona’s fingertips went to her head, massaging her temples. “I’ve lost count of how many glasses of wine we’ve had. But the food smells great. You really
can
cook.”

“I excel at heating things up,” Jerry assured her. “And yes, you are drunk, but you’re a truthful drunk. Those kisses just now: oodles and oodles of truth. Ree …” Her chin fought only for the slightest of moments to his efforts to coax it up. He stepped in closer. “Why are you resisting this? Screw prophecy and everything else. Look at me, am I really that unworthy?”

Her eyelids fluttered closed as her forehead fell to press against his lips. “It’s not that. It’s … Marc and I …”

“Marc and you, yeah, you had potential. But Riona, you know there was only one way for that to turn out: badly.” Her eyes shot him daggers. “I’m not saying Marc wasn’t a standup guy, no knocking him, but his rules were already set. You’d both either have been heartbroken and bitter, or together and damned. But you and me? We make sense. We were great when we were together. We clicked, if you want to use that tired old phrase.”

A smile ghosted her lips. “We clicked a lot.”

They both knew the loaded comment that was, and their shared grin confirmed it to each other.

Reaching up, Jerry brushed a rebelling strand of her ruby locks from her face. “Just give me a chance. Give me a chance to show you I am actually the man you fell in love with once.”

Riona sighed and pulled back. He let her go; there was nothing to be gained by forcing an answer out of her now, and far too much to lose.

“I can’t say yes to something like that.”

She honestly looked upset by that fact. Which was only about one-percent of how Jerry felt hearing her say it.

“But …” She paused, her hands on the turkey-laden serving tray. “Will you take a rain check on that? For now?”

Jerry sprang to her side and pushed a kiss to her cheek, beaming like a LED gone crazy. “I’ll take anything you’re willing to give me. I’m going to show you, Riona. Love me, and I won’t ever hurt you. You can trust me.”

Chapter 21

Ramiel had never developed a tolerance for, or understanding of, the human beautification of food binges. Well, other than those held in recognition of religious holidays for obvious reasons, and cheesecake because, damn, even an angel got a sweet tooth from time to time. In any other epoch, and had it been any other Pure Soul, he would have flat out rejected an invitation to something as silly as Thanksgiving dinner. One held in the middle of December, no less. But for Riona … Well, that child was just in a world of hurt and confusion. Any excuse to spend time Earthside and be with her, he took.

The idea struck him offhandedly that if he was going to go through with this charade of being a human guest—Riona had warned him when summoned earlier in the day that Molly Dade would also be darkening her door—he was going to do it up right. No materializing into their midst among a halo of divine ether. He sauntered up to the front door of the Boston brownstone, swept the snowflakes from his overcoat, and rang the doorbell.

Through the frosted glass of the door frame the silhouette of fine, feminine curves came in to sight. Riona, he assumed. When instead the door opened and the Greek beauty whose visage could make a gay man spring to attention stared back at him perplexedly, he felt his temporary humanoid body have all the air knocked from his lungs.

“Steph?”

“Ramiel?”

Gaping, he could hear her breath quicken at the sight of him, saw the flush that filled her cheeks. Damn, he loved the reaction he had on her. He wasn’t sure if it was just his presence, or if it was the fact that he had decided to sport a full Armani suit, right down to a striped gray tie he understood was all the rage these days. Ramiel ached to pull her to him and tell her, no
show
her, the effect she had on him.

“I didn’t know you were going to be here,” he offered. He flinched his eyebrows, hoping she’d understand that he was anything but displeased by the discovery. “Nephilim aren’t really into the whole giving thanks thing.”

“I really wish you’d get over all those damned presumptions you have. We’re not all deviant malcontents.” She crossed her arms over her chest—oh God, to be her arms at that moment—and leaned against the doorframe. “My brother invited me.”

The angel nodded. “I should have expected that. Um, could we chat for just a sec?”

He tugged just hard enough to show he was serious, but not enough to cause her pain. Looking just inside the door, no other curious faces appeared.

“Ramiel, what the hell?”

“They can’t know, okay?” He held her at arm’s length, fighting his own temptation to close that distance. “This whole thing between you and me, we have to keep it to ourselves.”

“Chill, angel. I’m not about to go off blabbing about my sex life to my brother and his purity posse. Besides, I don’t think they’re much in a mood to talk.”

His head tilted. “What’s that mean?”

“Just humans acting very humanly. Come inside and see.”

The impressive spread of dishes and condiments looked like the table had been carpet bombed by a sortie of Martha Stewart wannabees. A golden brown turkey sat on a platter amidst satellites of mashed potatoes, gravy, rolls, cranberries, pumpkin pie, and some gooey, toasted white puff. A green and auburn tablecloth served as the perfect canvas for a scene Rockwell would have crowed over. Empty wine glasses and uncorked bottles tricked out the sight as class-a middleclass Americana. It gave the room that perfect lived-in, boozed-up ambiance.