The Holiday From Hell (7 page)

Mel woke to warmth, light and the aroma of something delicious. Once again, she felt more refreshed than any morning she'd awoken in Japan. It was either Australia or Luce responsible and she suspected she had Luce to thank. Not least of all for whatever was cooking.

She rose and padded quietly across the floor, admiring the well-muscled man so intent on the electric frying pan that he didn't notice she was up. She caught a glimpse of yellow and shifted her gaze from the drape of the silk of his boxer shorts over the little they covered, to his cooking. "Where did you get eggs? Ooh, and mushrooms."

Luce's lips lifted in a smile but he didn't do more than glance at Mel. The eggs required too much concentration, it seemed. "When I booked this place, I asked for a stocked kitchen. A selection of local produce for breakfast. I know you like a mushroom omelette, so I put the ingredients on the list. I spotted some bacon in the fridge, so when I get some fresh bread, I can do you a bacon sandwich."

Mel sighed happily, sinking onto the chaise. The first time in over a century that she'd seen one in a home. "Mmm, having my own personal, very sexy chef beats room service. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No need. You just relax and let me take care of you." Luce deftly flipped, sizzled and sliced her breakfast in the pan, serving it on two plates that he set on the tiny table. He'd already laid the cutlery out with two glasses of juice. Waving around the table, he added, "Breakfast is served. I can't find the coffee maker the website said was here, so it'll have to be juice until I can find a coffee shop in town. And ask the owner about the coffee maker." His eyes flashed darkly. "Everything here should be perfect for you and I don't want anyone spoiling it."

Mel slid into a wrought iron chair. "With or without coffee, this looks magnificent, my love. Thank you." She waited for him to sit down so she could lean forward to kiss him. "And my morning is perfect so far." She sliced a small bite of omelette and popped it into her mouth. "Mmm."

Luce shovelled a forkful of egg and mushroom into his own mouth and chewed moodily. He didn't say another word until he'd cleared his plate, shoved back from the table and clattered his dirty dishes into the sink. "I'm going into town to get coffee."

Mel watched in fascination as Luce grabbed his keys and opened the front door. A gust of wind fluttered his boxer shorts, making Mel reach for her jacket. Winters in Western Australia were cold, even without snow. Luce slammed the door shut and stomped across the floor to his suitcase. Several minutes later, the fully clothed Lord of Hell thundered down the stairs to the car park. A spray of dust and gravel marked his passage as he drove up to the road.

She finished her breakfast at a much more leisurely pace and decided to wash the dishes before leaving them to air-dry on the draining board. Next order of business was a shower and fresh clothes.

Mel had just finished braiding her damp hair when she heard a key in the door. Figuring Luce would be burdened with coffee, she crossed the room and opened the door for him.

"Oh, hello." Greg looked more surprised to see her than she was, but he also looked relieved. "I realised I forgot to bring up the new coffee machine yesterday. I found it sitting on the bench and thought I should give it to you right away." He held up the box, but didn't offer it to her.

"I'm not an expert with coffee machines," Mel admitted. "Luce is the one who knows what he's doing, but he's headed up to town to get coffee. You just missed him. It's probably best if you set it up and tell me how to use it."

After several minutes of flipping through the instruction book and peeling away packaging, Mel and Greg worked out that the coffee machine was surprisingly easy to use and she offered to make one for him.

He shook his head. "I should go. The cellar door downstairs opens for tasting in a few minutes and there's always someone who arrives right at ten on the dot." He hesitated, then ploughed on, "Look, I'm sorry I used the key instead of knocking, but I saw your…husband go out and I was working late last night, bringing some new stock up from the bottling room. I happened to glance outside when you and your husband returned and I saw him carrying what looked like your unconscious body upstairs. When he left without you this morning, I thought the worst and I had to check. I mean, your husband is a very…forceful man and he might have…done something." He reddened, as if embarrassed to be admitting any of this.

Mel took pity on him. "Luce isn't my husband. Neither of us is married. I'm Melody Angel – Mel." She offered her hand and he shook it. "Luce can be very intense sometimes and people do tend to get the wrong impression about him. He's very protective of me, especially at the moment, as I'm not well. He's brought me here for my health, in the hope that a holiday will help me recover. I fell asleep in the car last night and I woke up to find him being very gallant and carrying me up the stairs. So sweet of him. I didn't want to spoil it by making him put me down, so I let him continue without opening my eyes. He's surprisingly romantic when he wants to be, though I'd never tell him that. It'd completely ruin his tough-guy image."

Greg didn't look entirely convinced. "Look, if you need anything, or help with anything, or just need someone to talk to…come downstairs. Or up to the house, we're just on the other side of that paddock, hidden behind the trees. Tell him you want to try some nougat or something."

"Thank you, but I'm sure it won't be necessary. You must get some very strange guests here if you're worried about Luce and me."

Greg shook his head. "You have no idea. Couples on their honeymoon seem to want to experiment. We had one couple buy the whole range of chocolate body products from the chocolate factory up the road. The sheets were streaked with it and there was chocolate all over the furniture, up the walls…even some handprints on the ceiling, from where we think they must have been jumping on the bed. The cleaning bill was astronomical. And then there was the couple who insisted on naked aerobics on the balcony every morning, finishing up with…well, they were on their honeymoon. Problem was, they didn't get up until ten and it's pretty hard to conduct wine tastings when you can hear the moans and groans on the balcony….not to mention the free show they gave everyone who drove up. You could see them from the car park."

Mel burst out laughing. "Oh my. We'll be well-behaved, I promise. No food in bed and none on the walls, either. I might take you up on the offer of nougat, though. I didn't get a chance to taste any yesterday. I might wait until Luce is in a better mood, though." She turned a beaming smile on the grumpy man framed in the open doorway. "Thank you, my love."

Luce ripped a cup out of the cardboard holder and held it out to Mel. "Your morning macchiato. I hope it's still hot – I had to drive for ages to find anywhere that was open. I got this from a coffee shop with cows everywhere, inside and out." He wrenched the lid off his own coffee and gulped half of the steaming liquid.

Only the Lord of Hell could do that without burning himself, Mel mused, sipping her own coffee carefully.

Greg grinned "So you got coffee in Cowaramup? That's why all the cows."

Luce glowered. "I wouldn't have had to if we had the coffee machine we were supposed to."

"We do now," Mel said smoothly. "Greg brought it up and was showing me how to use it. Apparently, the last guests broke the previous one so it's brand new. He was telling me about your romantic heroism last night – carrying your sleeping sweetheart up two flights of stairs to bed. Good thing you don't look dark and evil, or he'd have thought you were the villain instead, carrying me to your lair to ravish me." She struggled not to laugh when Luce looked down at his black shirt and her words started to sink in.

"I better get back to the cellar door. We're open for tastings," Greg said hurriedly, heading down the stairs at a trot.

Mel carefully closed the door behind him.

"He came up to check I hadn't murdered you, didn't he?" Luce crushed the empty coffee cup in his first and lobbed it at the rubbish bin.

Mel couldn't hold back her laughter any more. She nodded, unable to speak.

"I'm going down there now to tell him to keep his nose out of our business. He shouldn't be bothering you with his crazy ideas. I'll find somewhere else for us to stay and to Hell with this place."

"No. I like it here and he was only trying to help. Besides, I have a better idea." Mel couldn't resist a mischievous smile. "I think we should take a walk up to the chocolate factory we saw yesterday. He recommended some of their products that I'd dearly love to try with you."

At this rate, Mel's recovery would take years, Luce fumed, his fingers tightening around Mel's hand as they walked the familiar track home from the chocolate factory. Her soul had healed a little – from the scattered glitter he'd seen in his apartment, it was now a seamless golden glow haloing her body, but nowhere near the blinding radiance it should be. Even their short daily walk to the chocolate factory seemed to tax her and it'd been a whole week. He swung her bag of purchases in his free hand, not willing to let her carry even this light load. What was he doing wrong? Maybe he should have taken her to Heaven and let her heal there.

"It's all your fault," Mel chimed in, as if reading his mind. She smothered a small burp. "If you hadn't talked me into that brownie with ice cream, I wouldn't feel like a big, bloated ball you could roll all the way home. So much for sharing it with me. You barely had two bites – you fed the rest to me!"

Luce grinned. Of course he had. That blissful expression on her face after the first bite…could she blame him for wanting to see it again? Over and over again? "And you said I couldn't corrupt you."

Mel laughed. "I loved chocolate long before I loved you. You haven't corrupted me, my love. Seduced and tempted me, well, that's a very different matter. But you know I like the way you do it." There was both love and laughter in her kiss, which Luce wished lasted longer than it did.

Hell, they shared kisses and contact, but Luce could still feel her exhaustion and he knew he needed to be careful with her. He'd give anything for another night of passionate lovemaking with Mel, but he didn't dare take the risk yet. She still fell asleep in his arms every night, when he'd barely started to heal her. Maybe he wasn't healing her enough – he needed to do more, not stop when she fell asleep. Maybe…

Her fingers reached into his pocket, riveting him to the ground. Was she checking how tight his pants were? Just the thought of her…

Mel held up his phone, ringing with an incoming call from an unknown number. Luce hoped it wasn't the crazy Korean couple again. He'd unzip his pants and introduce them to the devil, he fumed. "Hello?" he growled, fumbling one-handed with his zip. "If you're calling to show me more R-rated videos, I'm not interested. I have my own, far more attractive lady here and she's –"

"Mel. She's Mel, I hope. If she isn't, you'd better tell me now," an Irish voice interrupted.

"Who's this?" Luce demanded, though he suspected he already knew.

"It's me, Patrick. I'm surprised you didn't guess from my accent, Luce. Raphael has news, but he refused to call you himself, so he begged me to do it. He offered me all sorts of things, but I agreed because it'd give me an excuse to ask what I really want to know. How is she?" Even down the crackling mobile signal from the other side of the world, Luce could hear the concern in Patrick's voice.

Luce groped for Mel's hand and brought it to his lips. Her eyes turned to meet his and he struggled to read her soul through them. "She…she's not as strong as she should be, but she's a damn sight better than the sorry state she arrived home in. It's slow, but she's recovering. I've allowed a month, but I don't know if that will be enough."

Mel's eyes shimmered with tears at the pain and hopelessness even he could hear in his voice. "I trust you, my love. If anyone can help me recover, it's you. You'll find a way."

Patrick's voice came down the line again. "Is that her? Is she there? Can she hear me? Oh Hell, Mel, Koyane said he didn't think you'd last the flight home, but he thought persuading you to stay would only weaken you further. I wanted to fly over to help you, but there was a disturbance in Belfast that threatened to get ugly and I couldn't leave. Tell me how you did it."

She'd been so weak she almost didn't last the flight? No, the Mel who'd rescued him in the seminar room hadn't been on the verge of collapse. That was later, when Raphael had barged into his home. But if Koyane had been right, then why would she take such a risk to come here? Why wouldn't she stay in Japan until she was stronger?

"Luce."

Luce's eyes turned to Mel at the sound of his name on her lips.

"Luce. I came home for Luce."

She wasn't calling him – she was answering Patrick's question, which she must have heard. Luce hit the speakerphone button and held the phone up between them. "She's here," he said, "and she can hear you. I've put you on speakerphone. We're in a vineyard with no one nearby."

"Mel? How did you manage it?" Patrick asked.

"I had Luce waiting for me and he's with me now," Mel said simply. "He's been a Godsend, Patrick. I can't begin to enumerate half the things he's done for me this week and he picked the perfect location. All the locals think we're on our honeymoon. The minute they think Luce is out of earshot, the advice they whisper! You'd think half the people here are sex-mad and surprisingly kinky, too. One of them suggested I should…do all sorts of things to Luce." Her blush rivalled that chili rosé for its rosy colour.

"What sort of things?" Luce asked. Was there any chance they'd suggested something he'd fantasised about that Mel might be willing to do?

"I'm…not repeating them," Mel replied, still pink. "What news is there on Persi, Patrick?"

Damn.

Patrick stopped laughing. "Daniel reported that Persephone definitely was in Egypt – they found where she stayed, where she ate, all the tourist attractions she visited and where she shopped. And then…nothing. She disappeared without a trace about the time you were in Japan, almost a fortnight ago. The trail's cold, so Daniel and the other Grigori came home. Raphael's sent word out to everyone he knows, though – any word of Persephone and he or Daniel will hear of it. Is there any chance…do you think she might be in Hell?"

"No. Every demon in Hell knows I don't want her there. If she takes so much as a single step inside Hell's gates, they know to bring her to me, or at least to the HELL Corporation. Mephi would have notified me if she had her." Luce glanced at Mel. "She's definitely not in Hell."

Mel's gaze rested on some distant trees. "If she's not in Hell…Patrick, has Raphael thought to look in Turkey or Greece? Or perhaps Italy?"

"You're reading my mind, Mel. Or has Raphael already told you? He's had three unconfirmed reports – one from Pamukkale in Turkey, one from some place in America and another from Sicily. He hasn't sent anyone in to investigate yet, though."

"Patrick, tell him to send someone to Pamukkale and to Enna in Sicily. When she was human, Persi lived in Sicily. She'd barely recognise the place now, but something tells me…that's where you need to be looking. She didn't like America much – she objected to something they called panties." Mel sighed, her shoulders slumping.

Luce hesitated as he took in Mel's tiredness before he said, "If there's nothing else for you to report, time to end the call. Mel's tired and I need to get her back home to rest."

Patrick coughed. "I'll call again if I hear more. Mel, please don't overdo it. You just concentrate on getting well. Luce…take care of her, okay? She's –"

"More precious than words can say," Luce finished for him. "Talk to you later, Patrick."

A round of goodbyes ended the call and Luce shoved his phone in his pocket again. Without asking her permission, he scooped Mel into his arms and strode back to the loft, ignoring the staring people in the car park.