The Devil's Wife (15 page)

      Clarissa was humming along to an old Clash song. She wandered over to where I'd been working and grabbed the blender jug, glancing at me as she walked back to the stove. She dropped the jug, ignoring the paste as it splattered everywhere, and her mouth fell open.

      I didn't say anything, watching her with my half smile, hoping I looked dashing.

      Clarissa turned completely around to stare at me, leaning against the counter for support, her eyes unfocussed.

      I felt my half-smile grow wider, and I heard her breathing falter. I didn't realize I could have that kind of effect on her. I laughed internally. Well, if I am the Devil, I should be evil sometimes...

      I pushed myself from the doorway, unfolding my arms as I slowly strutted over to her. She watched me, her mouth still open, as I stood in front of her, pressing her back into the counter. I could feel her trembling as I reached over her shoulder to turn the stove off.

      With a laugh, I put my hands on her hips, looking down at her. I closed her mouth with a finger, leaning down to bring my face close to hers, as though I was going to kiss her. I kept my eyes open, all the better to see her reaction, and laughed as her eyelids fluttered closed. She was still trembling, and I teased her by keeping an inch from her skin, my breath brushing across her face.

      "Clarissa?" I whispered, my nose touching hers.

      Clarissa grinned, her eyes still closed, and lifted herself up, covering the inch gap. After a second, she wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me closer to her. I laughed, and she deepened the kiss, taking advantage of my parted lips. I didn't object, moving the drainer behind her into the empty sink, then picking Clarissa up the six inches needed for her to sit on the counter.

      Her arms slid from around my neck to under my shirt and I grinned, breaking the kiss. Clarissa frowned, opening her startling blue eyes and holding my jaw so she could restart the kiss. She used the hand splayed across my back to pull me closer, and I stepped up to the counter, no longer inhibited by the ten-inch height difference between us.

      My hands went from her hips to her back, pulling her closer. She was wearing a low-cut top that I'd been admiring all night, tight around her bust. She grinned, pushing my shirt from my shoulders and happily letting it fall to the floor.

      There was a knock on the front door.

      "Damn it," Clarissa cursed, then seemed to come to her senses. She blushed a darker red than my natural coloring, covering her mouth with her hand when I laughed.

      "Hang on a minute!" I called out, kissing Clarissa on the cheek. I picked my shirt up, then grinned at her. "Are you going to stay sitting on the counter or are we going to eat some time before midnight?"

      Clarissa's face went red again. I helped her off the counter and headed for the front door, leaving my shirt draped over the back of the couch. I opened the door to find a young woman there, staring in amazement at me.

      "Can I help you?" I asked her after a second, when it became clear she wasn't going to speak first.

      The woman was as tall as Clarissa, her hair the same shade of brown, though her skin was a rich chocolate color. She was thinner than Clarissa, however, and her eyes were a brown that completed her chocolate appearance. She was wearing a short skirt and a white shirt. I could see that she was missing a couple of buttons on her shirt, her hair was messed up as though she'd been attacked, and I could smell alcohol on her, though she didn't show any signs of being drunk.

      "Y-yes, I'm sorry for coming around so late, but I was hoping to talk to Clarissa. Is she here? I'm her friend, Jaselyn Haraford."

      I looked back over my shoulder. "Clarissa, Jaselyn is here to see you."

      "Jaselyn?" Clarissa asked, sticking her head around the corner. "Oh, Jayce! What happened?" Her expression suddenly became darker. "Not Jason again?"

      I stepped away from the door. Clarissa obviously knew the woman. I smiled at her and she smiled half-heartedly back, inching past me carefully. I poked my head out of the door and saw Levi emerging from the lift. I grinned at him and he made a hop, skip and a jump toward me, scooting inside as I moved to shut the door.

      "Good to see you again so soon, Luce," Levi said with a smile, handing me the bag. "I trust that this is everything you wanted?"

      Levi looked like a man almost twice my age, somewhere around his mid-fifties, though he was only a few years older than me. He was wearing a white shirt that clashed terribly against his Mediterranean skin, and a pair of dirty jeans.

      "Why do you insist on talking like someone's brainwashed you into upper-class England, Levi?" I asked, leading him into the kitchen.

      "Because it annoys the boys," he laughed, sounding casual for a change. "You know that one, Luce."

      I rolled my eyes and pulled the pasta roller from the bag. It looked like dinner would be in the early hours of the morning at the rate we were going.

      I looked around the kitchen. Jayce was showing Clarissa something on her shoulders and chest, pulling her ripped shirt out of the way. I could see a bruise through a tear in the center of her back.

      "C'mon, I'll introduce you to Clarissa."

      "I don't think I should, Luce, she seems busy with that young woman—"

      I laughed. "Nonsense. You can report to the guys that

she really is as good as I say."

Levi sighed. "As you wish."

      I put the pasta roller on the counter and led him out to the living room.

Jaselyn Haraford

      I went to Clarissa's because she was the only family I had, as well as being my friend. She'd always been there for me, had helped me through the deaths of my parents. She'd defended me, even when I didn't want to defend myself, and had spent time in jail because of it. She was the closest I would ever get to a sister, and I needed my sister now. She would take care of me, she could help me.

      I didn't expect to be confronted by the very image of a sunburned god when I got to her apartment, however.

      "Can I help you?" he asked after a bit, looking me over.

      I was struck speechless for a second. His skin was a blistering red, and I was starting to sweat looking at him. He was easily seven feet tall, and he was only wearing pants and boots. His blonde hair looked ruffled, his blue eyes cautious, as though he was protecting the woman inside.

      I snapped out of my daze as he shifted on his feet. "Yyes, I'm sorry for coming around so late, but I was hoping to talk to Clarissa. Is she here?" My voice cracked and I cleared my throat. "I'm her friend, Jaselyn Haraford."

      The man looked back over his shoulder, toward the kitchen. "Clarissa, Jaselyn is here to see you," he said, as though they had been expecting me.

      "Jaselyn?" Clarissa asked, sticking her head around the corner. "Oh, Jayce! What happened? Not Jason again?" She frowned darkly, stepping out of the kitchen. She was holding the jug from a blender in one hand and a cloth in the other.

      The red-skinned man stepped away from the door, smiling at me. I smiled half-heartedly back, creeping carefully past him. He vanished out of the door as I made my way into the living room, looking around. There was a shirt on the back of the couch, and I figured it was his.

      Clarissa wiped her hands on a towel and gestured me toward the couch. I glanced over my shoulder to find the red-skinned man talking to a man twice his age.

      "I'm sorry, I hope I'm not interrupting anything, but I didn't know where else to go." I sank onto the couch and buried my face in my hands.

      Clarissa sank down next to me. "No, no, of course not," she said, sitting beside me. She put a hand on my shoulder. "You're family. What did Jason do this time, Jayce?"

      I rubbed at my face again and glanced at the kitchen. The red-skinned man and the older man were talking quietly. Occasionally the red-skinned man would glance at me and smile, but he didn't seem to be paying much attention to my words.

      "His friends—"

      Clarissa sighed, putting an arm around my shoulders and hugging me. "Jayce, I warned you about the Hellraisers so many times..."

      "I know, and I ignored you," I said, a tear falling out of the corner of my eye. "I need your help, Issa, please."

      "What did they do?" Clarissa pulled back and looked at me. She noticed the buttons missing on my shirt.

      "I was at work, and Jason turned up. He took me around the back of our building and knocked me around, then practically threw me in the car. I couldn't move, he scared me so much. Then we got home and he dragged me inside and he told his friends that I would have to be punished for not being ready to leave work at five o'clock on the dot. He dragged me into the bedroom and he was gentle, so I begged him not to do it, and he got cruel again. He forced me to my knees, forcing himself down my throat, and I couldn't find the courage to bite him, not since last time, and he pushed me against the wall, cut my clothes from

me."

      I started to cry. "It hurt so much, then he threw me on the bed and it hurt less, but then his friends came in, and..." I sniffed, undoing the buttons on my shirt. "They did this to me, Issa. I blacked out and when I came to, I was tied up. Jason knocked me out again and when I woke up, I was alone. I grabbed the first clothes I saw, climbed through the window and drove here."

      Clarissa hissed in sympathy, moving my shirt off my shoulders to examine the bruises in my dark skin, as she'd done so many times before. I knew what I must have looked like—my chest was sore, and I couldn't really move my neck. There were cuts all over me, and I could feel blood between my legs.

      "They did this?" Clarissa demanded, turning me slightly so she could see the bruises in the light.

      "Who else?" I leaned my forehead against Clarissa's shoulder, hugging her. "It was a fluke that I managed to escape them and drove here. Please don't make me go back with him."

      "No, of course not," she said, rocking me gently as she smoothed down my hair. "You don't have to go anywhere with him. I won't allow it."

      I heard the men stop talking, and turned to look at them. The red-skinned man was smiling, coming toward us, but when he saw the tears on my cheeks, he stopped. The man behind him stopped as well, a respectful half-step behind him.

      "Jayce? Are you okay?" the red-skinned man asked, watching me carefully.

      I looked to Clarissa. I didn't know either of these men, and I didn't know how much to tell them.

      "It's okay," Clarissa said with a smile, letting me go and doing up one of the remaining buttons on my shirt. "You can tell him and Levi anything you would tell me. We'll fix it for you."

      I still didn't know whether I wanted to tell the god-like man anything. But I trusted Clarissa, and her judgment. I took a deep breath as the man stepped hesitantly nearer, as though worried that I'd have a fit or something if he approached me too quickly.

      "I'm—I'm sorry if I was interrupting anything, Mister..."

      "Lucifer. Just call me Lucifer." The red-skinned man smiled at me while his elderly friend hissed in surprise.

      "That's an unfortunate name. With that red skin, it makes you look like the Devil."

      The man laughed at a joke I didn't understand. Clarissa and Levi were tense, as though expecting Lucifer to spring at me and kill me without a second's notice.

      "That is why I was called Lucifer," the man allowed with a grin, sitting down on the couch beside Clarissa, who was eyeing him strangely. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her back a bit. She settled back into the couch and leaned against his side, nestled under his arm.

      "Oh."

      "Are you okay?" Levi asked, turning me to look at him. "I can see the bruises under your shirt. They look like you were in a few fights on the way over here."

      Lucifer stiffened, sitting forward in the seat. "What happened, Jayce?"

      I eyed the man warily. "It was just my boyfriend—"

      "I hope he's your ex-boyfriend. No one deserves to take this kind of shit from their loved ones," Levi said darkly. He peeled the left shoulder of my shirt away from my bruises and looked carefully down my back.

      I flinched away from him. "Well, I guess he is now, but—"

      Lucifer stood up so fast I flinched back. He dragged me into the kitchen, holding my upper arm in a grip I was sure would leave bruises on my bruises. Levi and Clarissa followed us, both silent and looking slightly anxious. I was trembling in fear.