Three Wishes (15 page)

“He’s a nice man, your boyfriend,” the bartender continued. “Cute, too. If I were twenty years younger, I’d give you a run for your money.”

Boyfriend? And a demon described as a ‘nice man’? Asta shook her head in disbelief. What could he possibly have to gain by spending time with these humans?

Unless he actually like them. How very undemonic. And how very unangelic of her to envy him this closeness with the men. For a century, she’d watched over these humans, struggling to keep her distance, and here this demon had done the very thing she’d always longed to do—he’d connected with them. He’d become part of their lives. They called his name when he came in. No human knew her name beyond Carter. None. For one-hundred years she’d forced herself to keep her distance, and all she had was this empty feeling inside. And envy. Horrible envy eating her away because Dar had been brave enough to break the rules and have something she’d never dared. He’d made human friends. He’d become important in their lives. They cared about him.

There was sin, and there was this. Her heart nearly burst realizing she’d missed out on so much more than espresso and macarons during her time here—she’d missed connecting with the people she’d been sent to protect.

“So, introduce us to your date, Dar.”

The demon placed a hand on Asta’s back. “This is my angel, Asta.”

“Oh, she’s an angel all right.”

“Whatcha doing with this loser, honey? Need to find yourself a nice Polish man; that’s what you need to do.”

“Like you, Henry? You’re out of your league if you think an angel is going to look your way.”

And just like that, Dar had brought her into his circle. The men made a terrible fuss over her, recounting their own conquests with the fair sex in their youth, and telling her how lucky Dar was to have such a beautiful girlfriend. Some were widowed, some had wives off at bingo, and a few had never married.

The bartender topped off her ‘purple’ wine, as the man next to her, Dawid, recounted his family’s experiences in World War II.

“I was seventeen and got in just as things were wrapping up. All my cousins went in earlier and so many didn’t return . It was expected that I’d go too. We had family still in Poland, so this was a war that cut close to our hearts.” His pale-blue eyes misted. “But I’ll be honest; I was always glad I was too young to go when the war first started. Call me a coward, but I’d seen my aunts cry over those yellow slips delivered to their doorway, and I never wanted my mother to go through the same thing.”

She reached out and squeezed his hand, feeling the fragile bones and crepe-textured skin under her fingers. “I lost both my parents in a war—a war I was too young to serve in. I know it’s treasonous to think this, but I’m glad I was too young to fight. So many died—beings who were not necessarily evil, but were fighting because they thought they had to. The cause may have been just, but I’m still relieved I didn’t have to look across at another and end his life.”

Suddenly it hit her—that’s what she did. She executed demons. They’d done the equivalent of climbing the Berlin Wall, and somehow that warranted death? What if they were like Dar and just here for vacation? There had to be some way to judge evil intent, to eradicate those who wished to harm the humans without resorting to this kill-them-all-and-let-God-sort-them-out philosophy.

Dawid gave her hand a surprisingly firm squeeze in return. “I’m sorry about your parents. War is the hardest on children, it seems. I hope you’ve been able to find a family here. Family is more than blood, you know. Keep those you love close, and they’re your family.”

She couldn’t help but look over at Dar, arguing good-naturedly with Gerard and Lew about the benefits of unionization in the textile industry. Who did she love? She was very grateful to Gabriel for taking her under his wing and admired many of the angels in Aaru, but... .

“I’ve worked too hard to really think about family,” she admitted. “But you’re right. I need to find someone who I care about, who cares about me, and keep them close.”

“There you go, Asta.” Dawid let her hand go to pat her gently on the shoulder.

She spent the rest of the night listening to stories and good-natured ribbing between men who had clearly been friends for a long time. When the bartender finally ushered her and Dar out the door, pulling the heavy metal gate closed behind them, it was early in the morning.

“Okay, I’ll admit that was fun.” Asta’s head was floating, and she couldn’t seem to keep the smile from her face as they walked the brightly lit, still lively city streets. It was more than fun. There was something fulfilled, deep in her soul, from getting to know these humans. “How do you know them, the men in the bar?”

“I found Stanley’s a few decades ago and try to pop in a couple times per year. About half the original patrons I knew have died. I’m not sure what’s going to happen when the rest of them go. It’s not like that place appeals to the younger, more hip crowd that’s taking over the neighborhood. I keep thinking one year I’m going to come back to find Marsha has sold it and it’s become a gourmet pizzeria or something.” He paused, looking down the street behind him. “That place has been in her family for three generations. It loses a ton of money, but she keeps it open because all those guys remind her of her father.”

Asta felt a prick of tears behind her eyes. Time was so unforgiving to humans. But it wasn’t just the thought of the little bar closing that upset Asta it was the stinging fact that the demon had a closer, more intimate feel for the city’s residents than she did. This had always been
her
city, and she’d prided herself on how much she’d cared for the fate of the humans here. Now she faced a cold truth—viewing the humans from a thousand feet up and caring about their general welfare wasn’t the same as really knowing their lives, really immersing herself into their hopes and dreams, their pain and sorrow. How was it that this demon seemed nobler than all the angels in Aaru?

Maybe contemplation and grace were nothing without the experience of deep emotional connection.

“Short cut.” Dar pulled her down a side street, holding her arm as she picked her way carefully over the broken bits of sidewalk.

“I don’t want to break a heel.” Asta clung to his shoulder and hopped as she removed her shoes. Stupid shallow angel, worrying about her shoes, the cost of which were probably more than Marsha brought home in a week. Asta eyed the red soles and cream patent leather tops with sudden shame. She would only be here for a few more days. How could she change in such a short time? How could she make a difference in just a few days before she flew back to Aaru?

Aaru. Her homeland had always seemed a refuge, but now the thought of returning sat like something foul in her stomach. How could she go back and sit for centuries in meditation while Marsha struggled to keep her business afloat, Otto mourned the death of his grandson, and Eugene went home and struggled to climb the three flights of stairs to his little apartment.

Tucking the shoe under her arm, she took off the other and stretched her toes, marveling at the feel of rough cement under her feet. There were times when shoes were overrated, and this was one of them.

“There.” She smiled at Dar, realizing she was now the same height as the demon she’d towered over all evening.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He took the shoes from her and stuck them in his jacket pockets. She couldn’t help but notice how they ruined the smooth lines of the suit, heels jutting like weapons from his hips.

“I was thinking maybe Marsha could have a very lucky day with a scratch-off lottery ticket.”

Her brown eyes met his silver-colored ones. Then suddenly her back was pressed to brick and his mouth was on hers.

His body was firm against hers, his lips gentle and soft. They pulled at hers, as his tongue teased and teeth nibbled. Her heart lurched and her hands gathered the fabric of his shirt. For a moment, she was unable to move, unable to do anything as he traced the lines of her mouth, tasting the warmth between her lips.

Then, as quickly as he’d made a move, his mouth left hers. She felt the loss, her insides a mess of hot liquid as she dragged in a breath.

I’m not going to have sex with you
. Asta opened her mouth to voice the words running through her head like a worn-out mantra.

“I know, I know.” Dar’s breath was soft against her face. “You’re not going to have sex with me. I get it. Doesn’t mean I can’t steal a quick kiss before you fly off into the night.”

There was no way to adequately reply to that. Asta moved her hands from his chest, running them up the demon’s arms to push him away. He
was
excessively muscled for a demon. She frowned, wondering what he’d been doing. Physical combat? Did demons do that in Hel? Or had Dar taken to more human methods of defense since his immunity restricted his ability to use lethal force.

Drat. Her thoughts had halted her hands against the demon, and with an involuntary action, her fingers curled around his shoulders, pulling him close. A thousand reasons why she shouldn’t do this chased across her mind, followed by a thousand reasons why she should. Millions of years of distrust fell by the wayside, overcome by burning need, by the glorious feel of his warmth against hers.

Once more he was kissing her, but this time she mirrored his actions, opening her mouth, and so much more, to let him in. His spirit-being swirled against hers, as intoxicating as the mouth that now trailed a series of feathery kisses down her neck. Molding herself to his hard length, she skated her hands around his waist and down his back, diving up under the jacket to frantically pull his shirt from the waistband. Skin. She needed to feel his skin against her hands as intimate as his spirit was against her own.

His arms tightened around her, pulling her from the brick wall. One hand drifted to cup her rear end, gathering her skirt up to give him access to her naked flesh. Leaving her neck, his mouth moved upward, kissing her with fierce passion that curled her bare toes against the pavement.

Fire shot through her as he explored her mouth with greedy hunger. Asta felt herself swept away, everything vanishing except for a lightning whirlwind of passion. His hands, his mouth, his tongue—she loved the taste of him, the feel of his body against hers. When he pulled his mouth from hers, she shook with need, a rhythmic ache deep inside her body.

“No.” It was all she could manage.

She meant that she didn’t want him to stop kissing her, to stop his hands from exploring her body, but he misunderstood and stepped back. The evening was warm, but the sudden loss of his body against hers made her shiver.

“Are you sure? I know you said no sex, but maybe you’d reconsider?” His eyes blazed down into hers, his voice a sexy rasp. “You can easily kick my ass, so you don’t have to worry about me doing anything non-consensual. We can see where this goes. You set all the limits; you make all the rules.” Then he dipped his head so his mouth found the hollow where her neck and shoulder joined. Asta arched her back.

“Tub.” It was hard to get that one word out, let alone the rest. “It’s big enough that I can reveal my wings. And... yes, I might reconsider.”

Who was she fooling? She was ready to rip off her dress and do him right here in a dark alley.

Dar shuddered against her, his breath catching. “Will there be room for me in that tub, with you and your wings?”

Oh, this was glorious. All the surface nerve endings of her skin were firing like Independence Day pyrotechnics, and the whole time, his spirit-being was pressed to hers with almost unbearable intimacy. That time she’d joined with Kfial had never felt quite so right as this did.

“I’ll make room.”

His hands tightened, one gripping her waist and the other curling against her ass with almost painful strength. Once again, his mouth dropped to hers, leaving all to soon to taste a line down her neck. He bent his head further, and she raised on her toes, feeling his mouth slide down her chest and across the tops of her breasts. This was better than meditation, better than espresso, or double chocolate cake, or those red Prada sandals she’d scored last week. This was better than flying.

This was insanity. One week. Less than one week and she could wash all this sin clean. The thought was depressing.

Then Dar pulled away, running a hand through his hair. “I... before we... I need to tell you something.”

Huh? No, he didn’t. She reached for him, but he grabbed her hands in his. “Our date is technically over, so I need to tell you something before we get carried away.”

Chapter 9

E
ven though his voice still held that husky, desperate sound, it seemed oddly businesslike. What could he possibly need to tell her right now when she was on fire for him?

“Our deal was a night of dinner and fun in exchange for information. Naked tub action isn’t part of that. Before we... well, I need to give you the information. Then if things continue, it’s just us. I want whatever happens to be just us, not mistaken as part of our contract.”

Asta looked into the silvery gray of his eyes and nodded. Whatever this information was, she had a feeling the magic of the moment wouldn’t be recaptured.

“We’re not chasing a sorcerer summoning a demon. We’re after a genie in a bottle.”

What in all of creation was he talking about? “Like that old sitcom with Barbara Eden?”

“Not really. I don’t know who the trapped demon is, but I doubt he’s that attractive. What I do know is that he’s going to be pissed as all fuck. Getting summoned is bad enough, but being stuck in a bottle for hundreds of years wouldn’t do much for anyone’s temper, let alone a demon.”

Asta stepped back, pressing herself against the wall, all thoughts of soaking her wings in a tub vanishing. “Why would someone put a demon in a bottle? I thought the idea was to summon one, get him or her to do something for you, then banish them back to Hel. What’s with the bottle?”

“Think of it as a savings account. Summon a demon, put a series of parameters around his release as usual, and then put him somewhere safe for later, when you’re ready for him to do his thing.”