The Devil Inside (13 page)

I rang the doorbell, keeping a watch on the geezer out of the corner of my eye. He was definitely giving me the once-over. As long as he was just looking, I was fine with that. I wasn’t dressed particularly sexy today, thank goodness.

I had just decided Dominic wasn’t home when his door opened. He didn’t look happy to see me.

“What do you want?” he asked. It wasn’t quite a snarl, but it wasn’t much friendlier. Oh yeah, this guy was holding a grudge, all right. I tried to look sympathetic even while I moved him a little higher up on my suspect list. “I wanted to check up on you, see how you were doing. You were pretty broken up the other day.” I shrugged and looked abashed. I think. “I feel terrible about it. You got a raw deal.”

He didn’t seem to know what to do with that. I could see the belligerence drain from his eyes, and his posture relaxed, though he still looked wary.

“You came all the way out here to check on me?” he asked. Ah-hah! I thought. How did he know how far I had to come to check on him? Maybe he knew where I lived because he’d had to look it up so he could break in and jack with my Taser.

I smiled at him. “I’ve been having a rough couple of weeks. I figured I could use the good karma.”

He actually smiled back, which made him feel less like a suspect in my book. He opened his door a little wider.

“Would you like to come in, have a cup of coffee? Since you came so far.”

Well, how friendly of him! Unless he was just trying to allay my suspicions. Or trying to lure me into his house so he could beat the crap out of me.

“I’d love to,” I said, and walked into his house as if I trusted him implicitly. The place was tiny, narrow. The whole first floor consisted of a living room, dining room, and kitchen that all blended into each other, no 79 / 226

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doorways or anything. Dominic apparently shopped a good deal at Goodwill and the PTA thrift store. Nothing matched, not even the four chairs that surrounded his dining room/kitchen table, and everything was just a little worn and faded.

He pulled out a chair for me—a red vinyl number with a slash in the seat through which stuffing peeped out—and moved the two steps it took him to get into the kitchen.

“So how are you holding up?” I asked as he busied himself starting a pot of coffee.

He shrugged with his back still turned to me. “I’ll live.” He started the coffee brewing, then turned around to face me, leaning his butt against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest. “But someone very close to me just died, and it’s going to take a long time for me to recover.”

His eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and I wondered if I was being the world’s most insensitive bitch to come here and interrogate him—

under the guise of friendship, no less. But I considered him my best suspect, so I soldiered on.

“I’m sorry about that, Dominic,” I said in my gentlest voice. “I really am. What happened to you and your demon wasn’t fair. But at least you survived, and your mind is intact. It could have been much worse.”

He blinked away the tears and glared at me. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You can’t imagine what it’s like.”

No, I couldn’t. I couldn’t imagine having my own free will and personality restored to me and being distraught about it. Then again, I couldn’t understand volunteering to give it all up in the first place. Dominic stepped forward to put his hands on the back of the chair across the table from me. His knuckles turned white as he met my gaze.

“Last week, I was a hero. I made a difference in this world. I saved lives that no ordinary human being could have saved.” His eyes glowed with fanatic intensity. “My life meant something. Now I’m just another guy.”

My hands clenched into fists and I ground my teeth. I tried to moderate my response, I really did. But he’d hit a nerve, big time. “Just because I’m not hosting a demon doesn’t mean my life is meaningless!” I snapped. Okay, forget for a moment that I was hosting a demon. I was still trying very, very hard not to think about that. “My life means a hell of a lot to me. Why should yours mean any less to you?”

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Morgan Kingsley #1

The coffeemaker gurgled to a stop. I’d have ignored it in his shoes, but he shoved away the chair he’d been gripping and turned to the kitchen. I couldn’t believe he was actually going to serve me coffee after that little exchange, but he opened a cupboard and pulled out a pair of mismatched mugs. When he reached for the coffeepot, a red stain spread across the back of his white button-down shirt. A stain that grew as I watched it, forming a long stripe across his shoulder blades.

My mouth dropped open, but Dominic was oblivious as he poured the coffee. It wasn’t until he’d set the mugs on the table that he noticed my expression. His eyes widened.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

I swallowed hard, wondering if that stain could possibly be what it looked like. “Your back,” I whispered.

To my surprise, a rosy blush colored his olive-skinned cheeks. Not the reaction I’d expected.

“Did that happen when the God’s Wrath people came after you?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

He shook his head, his blush deepening as he stared at the scarred tabletop instead of at me. “Uh, no. Saul—my demon—healed those wounds long ago.”

I like to think of myself as this tough chick who has seen everything, but in some ways I still had a core of naiveté to me. I honestly didn’t know what to make of what I was seeing, didn’t understand his blush.

“Did they attack you again?”

He looked at me, and his expression changed from embarrassed to bemused. “Are you for real?”

I think maybe at this point, some little corner of my mind was making sense of things, but it wasn’t a conscious corner. “Why are you bleeding?”

He blinked, then laughed. “Yeah, you’re for real.” He pulled out the chair he’d been standing behind and sat. He’d lost all his righteous indignation. And all his embarrassment, apparently.

“I’m bleeding because my lover got too rough with the whip.”

It was my turn to be embarrassed. My face practically glowed with it, and my gaze dropped to my coffee cup. I hadn’t taken a sip yet, and right now I didn’t have any inclination to change that.

“Oh,” I managed, and wished Scotty would beam me up. 81 / 226

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Morgan Kingsley #1

“Another disadvantage to being without my demon,” Dominic continued.

“Before, my lover could hit as hard as he wanted, and Saul would heal the damage. Now he has to learn how to be careful of my fragile human flesh.”

Yeah, I still wanted to get the hell out of there. But I have to admit to a certain level of morbid fascination as well. This guy was so different from me, he might as well be another species! I risked a glance upward and found him watching me with a mixture of amusement and bitterness.

“So you actually like being whipped so hard that you bleed?” My stomach tried to roll over at the thought. I stopped it by sheer force of will. But Dominic shook his head. “No, that was a mistake. It won’t happen again.”

“But you liked it when you had your demon to heal you,” I persisted. Again he shook his head. “I like a little pain, but not that much. It was Saul who liked the hardcore stuff. He stopped me from feeling it when it got too rough for me.” A hint of a sad smile. “When the God’s Wrath mob beat me, I didn’t feel a thing. Saul took it all, until it was too much even for him and he struck back. But I’ll never have that kind of protection again.”

“Because of me.”

But Dominic surprised me again. “No. I know it’s not your fault. If you hadn’t done it, someone else would.” He met my eyes. “That doesn’t mean you and I will ever be friends. I hope to God I never lay eyes on you again after today.”

I don’t know why, but that hurt. I shoved my untouched mug of coffee to the side, spilling some of it in the process. Then I pushed my chair back from the table and stood.

“The feeling is mutual,” I told him. “You’re a sick puppy, Dominic. Get help before you get yourself killed.”

His eyes blazed as he surged to his feet. For a moment, I thought he would come over the table after me, but he just skewered me with his eyes.

“Don’t you dare judge me! You don’t know a goddamn thing about me.”

“I know you let your lover whip you bloody! And I know if he enjoyed doing it before, he’s going to keep enjoying it even when you don’t. You need to get out.”

“No, you need to get out, Ms. Kingsley. Get out of my house!”

I managed to shut myself up, but it was a near thing. If his lover had enjoyed ripping his back to shreds when his demon could heal him, then 82 / 226

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Morgan Kingsley #1

that meant he was a real sadist. How long would he be satisfied with the tamer pleasures that were all Dominic could now tolerate?

I didn’t know this guy, and he hadn’t given me much reason to like him. But maybe because I felt responsible for his being in danger, I genuinely wanted to help him.

He followed me to the door, I think so he could have the pleasure of slamming it in my face.

I turned to him before I stepped out. “Tell Adam that if he hurts you, I will personally hunt him down and exorcize his ass.”

I think I kind of hoped he’d tell me Adam wasn’t the sicko who’d done this to him. No such luck. He just ushered me out the door and closed it firmly behind me.

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Morgan Kingsley #1

After my productive interview with Dominic, I took yet another train ride, this time to go back home and stay there. It was Friday night, which would usually be a date night, but I wasn’t what you’d call in the mood. I figured eventually I’d forgive Brian for not giving me an alibi, but not yet. I called him when I got home just to let him know where I was, but our conversation was brief and tense.

When I got off the phone, I straightened up the house a little, then changed my alarm code yet again. I’d showered earlier in the day, but since I wouldn’t be working off all my stress in bed, I figured now was a good time for a hot bath. I let Calgon take me away for about a half hour, and it helped.

I was just wrapping myself in my terry-cloth robe when my doorbell rang and shattered every hint of relaxation in my muscles. I cursed. I should have known Brian wouldn’t give me time to come to grips with what he’d done. He wanted me to get over it now, and he was going to get in my face about it. It’s one of the things he does that drives me crazy. He can’t just let me be angry for a while without trying to fix it. I think in his life, he’s used to working things out on a short timeline. Arguments in his family are patched up before the sun sets on them. I’m not that way. Never will be. It’s not that I don’t want to be. I mean, who wants to spend half of their life pissed off? I just wasn’t raised in an atmosphere where I could learn to do it. You might think that because I was the rebel of the family, they had no influence on me. They did. It was just the wrong kind of influence.

I worked myself into one hell of a snit as I stomped toward the front door. I was going to chew Brian a new one then send him packing with his tail tucked between his legs.

Which would have been a perfectly good plan if it had actually been Brian at the door. Instead, it turned out to be Adam. I groaned and wished I’d had the good sense to look through the peephole rather than letting my anger with Brian make assumptions for 84 / 226

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Morgan Kingsley #1

me.“You know that old saying about a bad penny?” I asked, pulling my robe closed a little tighter. I tried not to think about the blood staining Dominic’s back, tried not to imagine Adam with a whip in his hands. It didn’t work.

I guess I hadn’t disliked Adam as much as I’d thought, or I wouldn’t feel so…betrayed by what I’d learned. How stupid is that?

Adam looked at me very closely. I had no clue what he was thinking or why he was here. His eyes lingered a long time on my cheek, and I wondered if I still had suds on it. I was too self-conscious to reach up and check.

“May I come in?” he asked.

I blocked the doorway with my body. “No.” I was not inviting this sadistic bastard into my house. Especially not when I was all alone and wearing nothing but a bathrobe.

“I can push my way past you easily.”

“And watch me file charges so fast your head will spin.”

He laughed grimly. “I’m the Director of Special Forces. I think you’ll need more than a trespassing charge to scare me.”

“Get the fuck off my property, Adam. I mean it.” I tried to slam the door, but he made good on his threat and pushed past me, into my house. I was so unwilling to be alone in the house with him that I tried to make a run for it, barefoot and in my bathrobe. Demon-quick, he reached out and grabbed my arm, yanking me back into my house and slamming my door. His fingers dug in hard enough to leave bruises, but I was afraid he might enjoy it if I complained. Of course, he might be enjoying my struggles, too. Didn’t sadists get off on that kind of thing?

Against my will, my gaze dropped down to his crotch. Thankfully, there was no sign of an erection. Maybe he only got off on other men?

“Oh for God’s sake, Morgan!” he snapped. “Are you checking me out to see if I have a hard-on from manhandling you?”

Since that was exactly what I was doing, I couldn’t muster much righteous indignation.

He dragged me up against his body, bending his head so his lips almost brushed my ear when he spoke. “It would have to hurt a lot worse than this to turn me on, love. And if you’re getting ready to stomp my instep, I’d 85 / 226

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Morgan Kingsley #1

recommend against it.”

I guess he must have felt the tension in my body, but I was surprised he’d been able to read it so well. I seriously considered doing it anyway, but I didn’t want to know how he’d retaliate.