Three Wishes (31 page)

Authors: Debra Dunbar

Tags: #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Paranormal & Urban, #Romance, #Paranormal, #Fantasy, #demons, #Angels, #Magic

BOOK: Three Wishes

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For a moment they sat motionless until Dar gently moved her from his lap and rose, water cascading off his skin. “Are you okay?”

She watched him climb out of the tub, dry himself off, and dress. “Yes. I’m fine,” she lied.

Too quickly he was fully clothed. The tub suddenly seemed far too big for one being.

“Goodbye, Asta.” He struggled, as if there was something else he wanted to say. Then he snapped his mouth shut and gestured toward her. “Take care, okay? Don’t let those asshole angels beat you down.”

She nodded. “Stay safe, Dar.”

With that, he was gone. And a city full of two-point-seven-million people never felt so empty.

Chapter 22

T
he weather was circling down from the north, bringing a sharp bite of cold into the autumn morning. Typical. The colorful leaves and crisp scent were Chicago’s brief nod to fall before winter came roaring in with all its might. No matter the season, this was her city, and it was beautiful—especially when she was nine hundred feet above ground, watching the sunrise with a cup of steaming espresso in hand.

Cars made their way along Lake Shore Drive, hinting at the rush hour to come. Sweepers and garbage trucks banged their way through the side streets and alleyways. Once things started moving and shaking, she’d drop downtown for breakfast and some window-shopping. Maybe grab a book and head for Millennial Park. Cobb salad for lunch. Catch an early comedy show at Second City or Zanies, then over to Stanley’s to see the guys. Unless a demon popped onto her radar—then all other plans were on hold. Of course, she hadn’t sensed a demon in months, and wasn’t likely to anytime soon.

It was better than meditation in Aaru, this daily routine of hers. She thanked the stars every time she remembered her return home, how she’d begged to be given another century of assignment. Gabriel had needed her there; her report of Rubeus had raised all sorts of red flags. She was too young; she could have died, blah, blah, blah. Why they’d finally allowed her to return, she had no idea. Best not to question these things in case the opportunity vanished under scrutiny.

Three months and no sign of him. Had he come back while she was in Aaru and assumed she was gone forever? Had he been killed? Was he afraid to leave Hel? Afraid wasn’t a word Asta would think to associate with Dar, but just as she was unwilling to question the Ruling Council’s decision about her, she was equally unwilling to ask about the demon’s whereabouts.

No, she was just afraid. He was too clever to be killed, to brave to cower in Hel for the rest of his life, but he probably had moved onto the next fun adventure. Without her. That’s what she feared. That’s the truth she didn’t want to know.

Asta rose, drinking the last of her espresso and stretching her wings. Time to get a move on if she wanted a quick flight along the lake before the traffic hit. She stepped to the edge of the roof, inhaling to catch the scent of cold air off the water. The building trembled in a gust of wind that roared in her ears and carried with it the faint note of demon-song.

Dar.

She froze, her heart jumping into her throat. She’d recognize his energy anywhere. He was here—in her city. He was heading this way.

Wings snapped into hiding. Asta raced for the rooftop stairs, taking them two at a time and bursting into her little condo. What to wear, what to wear? Oh shit—shoot, he was coming. Hangers and clothes flew as she tore through the racks, selecting then discarding various dresses and pants suits. In the end, she chose jeans and the simple white button-down oxford shirt with the high-top sneakers she’d worn during their rooftop sashimi dinner.

Tearing back up the steps, Asta raced around the roof, trying to find a good place to sit. Or stand. Or recline. One where she looked sexy and casual, but not like she was posed, or waiting for him. Shit, shit, he was in the building. Wings out or not? He liked her wings, but they’d mess up the lines of her shirt, and she’d have to repair the tears.

The door opened, and Asta threw herself to the ground, trying to look serene and contemplative while her heart tore around her chest like an Indy Car.

“Hi.” After three months, after all they’d been through together, all they’d shared, and
that
was what came out of her mouth? Sheesh.

Dar grinned and walked over, gingerly sitting down beside her and casting a nervous glance over the roof edge. “Promise me you’ll scoop me up if I fall off?”

“Before or after you hit the ground?” Witty comeback. That was more like it.

“Fuck, I hope before. Otherwise you’ll need one of those street sweepers.” He tilted his head, eyes warm as they examined her face. “Sorry I’m late. I had a few things to do in Hel that took longer than expected.”

Her whole body heated up like one big flame. “You knew I was here? I mean, not in Aaru?”

His smile turned suggestive. “One should always know where one’s angel is.”

Asta scooted closer, resting her hand on his thigh and her spirit-self against his. “I was afraid I wouldn’t be back at all. Your angel came pretty close to being in Aaru for the rest of her life.”

“Yes, I know.” He scowled at her, but his eyes danced with laughter. “Could that report of yours be any shittier? That thing had holes big enough to drive a truck through. Rubeus accidentally stabs his possessed human with scissors, killing Carter Phelps. Then after being impaled repeatedly with a unicorn horn, you manage to decapitate him with a microwave and a cheap Excalibur knock-off then crawl halfway across the city to a hotel penthouse suite.”

She slid her hand up his leg. “The Iblis thought it was a riveting tale, and Rafael said I showed great resourcefulness.”

Dar snorted. “Yeah. If you didn’t have that tight-ass Gabriel wound around your wing, you would have been fucked.”

Her mentor had come through, although he’d made it quite clear how disappointed he was both with her report and her insistence on returning. But with Rubeus dead, and Carter Phelps rather confused about the events in question, Gabriel had ruled in her favor.

“Carter is having a tough time of it.” He was. The human was being indicted on various cyber-crime charges and being sued by at least six corporations. But he was alive, and the last time she’d seen him, he had introduced her to a lady friend. Hopefully things would work out for him.

“I don’t give a flying fuck about Carter Phelps.” Dar grabbed her hand and moved it from his thigh to between his legs. “I’ve missed you, Asta. You’ve no idea how much I’ve missed you, and I don’t just mean sex. But I have missed sex with you, too. How about we go roll around the clothes in your gigantic closet, and I’ll show you how much I’ve missed you.”

By all of Creation, she loved this demon. And even though he hadn’t said the words, she could see by the gleam in his eyes that he loved her right back. No matter. She’d get the words out of him.

With a gentle squeeze of her hand, she had him.

“Damn.” Dar groaned, standing and pulling her to her feet. “Let’s go now before I shoot a load in my pants.”

“Lovely.” She laughed. “Your pillow talk could use some work there, big boy.”

He pulled her against him, kissing her deep while his hands dug through her curls. Breaking the kiss, his silver-gray eyes met hers. “I love you, Asta. I love you, and you’re mine. How’s that for pillow talk?”

She stared at him, drinking him in. Her very soul sang at the thought of her future with him. “Better. Although you’ll need to repeat it several times per day.”

His hand caressed her cheek as his lips reached for hers. “Deal.”

About the Author

Debra Dunbar primarily writes dark fantasy, but has been known to put her pen to paranormal romance, young adult fiction, and urban fantasy on occasion. She lives on a farm in the northeast section of the United States with her husband, three boys, and a Noah’s ark of four legged family members. When she can sneak out, she likes to jog and ride her horse, Treasure. Treasure, on the other hand, would prefer Debra stay on the ground and feed him apples.

Connect with Debra Dunbar on Facebook at
DebraDunbarAuthor
, on Twitter @
Debra_Dunbar
, or at her
website

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