A Demon And His Witch (4 page)

“If you’re done gawking, you might want to step back before I smash your nose with the door when I shut it.”

Someone got up without sex today. He could fix that. “Hello beautiful, I actually have business with the occupant of this suite. I’m here to meet with Ysabel, the witch.”

“Really.” Her tone said what she thought of his claim and her brown gaze looked him up and down, then dismissed him. “I don’t think so.”

The door slammed shut in his face.

What. The. Fuck.

Remy pounded on the door. It immediately opened. The ebony haired vixen, her arms crossed under her bountiful tits, smirked. “Back already. What’s wrong? Did I hurt your feelings?”

“Listen woman, I don’t know what crawled up your ass and turned you into an uptight bitch, but I’m here to see Ysabel, so get the fuck out of my way before I put you over my knee and –”

“And what? Spank me?” Her eyes actually sparked with challenge, the minx. “I’d like to see you try. But, before you do, just so you know, my name is Ysabel. The witch.”

Aaaaah, shit. Never one to admit defeat, he let a slow simmering smile spread across his face. It worked on demonesses, damned souls, human women, and even gay men, but apparently, it had no effect on scowling witches. Too bad. “It’s your lucky day. Lucifer has informed me that you’re my next assignment.”

“Not by choice. And what are you supposed to do exactly? I need a tracker, not a gigolo. What happened? Did your gig as a pole dancer not work out? Equipment too small?” She dropped her gaze to his groin and sneered.

A sudden, irrational urge possessed him to drop his pants, flip her over and show her there was nothing wrong with the size of his cock. He abstained, but couldn’t prevent himself from taunting her, eyeing her up and down in the same dismissive manner. “Anytime you want to measure my dick, you let me know. Naked.”

“Pig.”

“No, demon. Really, get your terminology straight, would you? After Lucifer’s warning, I expected someone older and badder.”

To his credit he didn’t drop to the ground, but the pain in his balls did require he bend over to cup them gently which in turn meant he got the door in the face. Again. And that was the last straw.

*

Ysabel stomped away from her door, cussing Lucifer and his perpetual jokes. Sending a half dressed, muscle bound, half demon with the face of an Adonis to help her indeed. She needed brains not –

Bang!

Her door, her spelled door she might add, splintered into shards as he stalked into her place, eyes glowing red, muscles bunched, lips taut with anger. Women would have swooned at his virile appearance. She held her ground – but couldn’t help a tingle. He truly was good looking, and even though she knew good looking men were the scum of the earth – er, Hell, that was – even she could admit that if she were to choose a male to scratch a sexual itch, she’d want his number.

It pissed her off. She didn’t get involved with men. Demons. Or anything at all for that matter. Tucking away her body’s unexpected interest, she pursed her lips at the object of her irritation.

Since he didn’t like
no
for an answer, she switched tactics. There was more than one way to make a male run, and when the bitchy method didn’t work…

She clutched her chest and widened her eyes. “You, you broke my door.”

“Yes I did,” he snarled. “And kick me again in the balls and I’ll–”

She squeezed one fake tear. “Please don’t hurt me. I’m sorry. It’s just, a big bad demon shows up at my door and you took me by surprise. And Lucifer is sending me on this scary quest...” She sniffed.

And he gobbled it up, hook, line, and sinker. The tension in his body eased, he lost the angry glow in his eyes, and he even tendered a masculine smile that made her sex tingle in a most annoying way. It was his drawled, “Sorry, baby, didn’t mean to scare you,” that pushed her over the edge.

It emerged as a choked sound at first, but turned into full blown laughter. She clutched her stomach as she laughed, the best one she’d had in what seemed like ages. And it just got better the more he scowled.

“Oh,” she gasped in between giggles. “I can’t believe you fell for that. Did you really think a witch of my caliber and age would really be so fucking weak?”

“I was being a gentleman.”

She snorted. “Ah yes, because gentlemen show up at the door all the time expecting the help to drop their panties. And when refused turn into dinks.”

“Dinks? Wow, little witch, get with the times. It’s dick. In my case, you could even say big dick.”

“Careful, demon. I’ve shrunken heads bigger than yours.” Her pointed stare at the stop below his belt buckle had him growling.

“Witch, you are testing my patience.”

“Then leave.”

“I can’t. My Lord Lucifer has ordered me to help you, and by all that is evil in this place, I shall, whether you like it or not. Keep denying me, and I’ll have you screaming with your panties around your ankles.”

“Ooh, what a big demon, resorting to rape when he doesn’t get his way.”

“Ha. I don’t need to force a woman. I was talking about spanking you over my knee, the proper punishment for a woman who’s acting like a brat. Although, if you’d prefer to scream because I’m making you cum, just say so. I’m sure you could convince me to hold off on punishment. Especially if you got on your knees, naked.”

“You are unbelievable.” In more than one way. It seemed his good looks came with a set of balls that didn’t let him back down even faced with a woman who could string words into a sentence.
Bet he doesn’t come across a girl with a brain too often.
In his case, he probably judged their IQ on the size of their melons.

And what a crude mouth he owned. Who said ridiculous things like ‘I’ll have you screaming with your panties around your ankles’? Even scarier, what stupid woman fell for his corny pickup lines?
Not me.

“I hear that a lot from my lady friends,” he agreed with a wink.

“And I’ll bet you have plenty as a pole dancer. Like I said before, I need a tracker, not a Chippendale Demon. So why don’t you run off and hand-wash your gold lame g-string while I get on with the job. Don’t worry. I won’t tell Lucifer on you. He might try to stick me with someone worse, like your even more annoying twin brother.”

“No need to wash anything, little witch, I prefer to go commando. And while I am flattered you think me attractive enough to dance for a living, the truth is I am a tracker and fighter – a damned good one too. So, if you want to be rid of me, the fastest way is for us to get started.”

She sighed. “You’re not going to leave are you?”

“Not a chance. So, suck it up buttercup.”

“I am really starting to dislike you.”

“You know what they say: dislike is akin to lust.”

“That’s not the expression.”

“It is in my world. You wouldn’t be the first one to tell me you hate me only to rip my clothes off and ride me like a wild cowgirl.”

“I will not! When we’re done, I’m going to carve your balls and –”

“Touch my balls with harmful intent and you’ll be tea-bagging them,” he warned.

Stymied she had to ask. “What the hell does that mean?”

An enigmatic smile graced his lips. It made more than her sex tingle, her tits joined the game too, hardening into points “Why don’t you touch them and find out?”

“Pig.”

“I prefer the term rutting beast. Now, if we’re done. Do you know who the missing targets are?”

Shooting him a glare, a dirty look he pretended to not notice, she pointed to the folders Lucifer had delivered to her home. Sinking onto her couch, the half demon took up a lot of space. She studied him as he grabbed the first file and read. She bit her tongue before she asked him if he needed help with the big words. Why she wanted to antagonize him, she didn’t understand, but she couldn’t deny she enjoyed their verbal sparring. Most males resorted to brute force when faced with her admittedly viperish tongue. He disarmed her with words and innuendo. More alarming, it partially worked.

I’ll bet you it wouldn’t have, though, if he’d proven butt ugly.

Tall, way taller than her five foot five frame, his body bulged with muscles covered in tanned skin. He possessed layered brown hair with gold highlights, vivid turquoise eyes and chiseled features, including a strong straight nose – surprising because with a taunting mouth like his she expected he’d gotten it broken more than once in his life – a square chin, and wickedly full lips that now quirked into a grin.

“Enjoying the view?” he taunted.

“Deciding what part to carve off your body first,” she replied. “Do you have a name by the way? Or should I just refer to you as ‘that asshole’?”

“You can call me Remy, but, when I get your thighs around my neck, feel free to call me God. It totally pisses Lucifer’s brother off, which means brownie points for me.”

A blush tried to heat its way into her cheeks at the mental image he provoked. His nude body, thrusting into her… Damn, she needed a cold shower and a few minutes alone with her vibrator. “Are you always this crass?”

“What can I say?” he replied spreading his hands wide with a beaming smile. “You bring out the best in me. Although, I’d prefer to sink my best into you,” he winked.

She gaped, more because she lost the power of speech as a surge of lust raced through her. Totally unacceptable.

As she stomped off to the kitchen for something to drink – preferably ice cold so she could cool the fever trying to overtake her body – she wondered at his game. All demons played one.

Some thrived on violence and mayhem. Some liked to lie and watch the resulting chaos play itself out. Others liked to burn things. Kill things. Hunt. Fuck. If it pleased Lucifer, they did it. If it fed the dark part they all owned, they craved it. Demons weren’t human and thus didn’t possess the same morals and restraints that conditioned mortal behavior. Even half ones, like Remy, who appeared human, contained a kernel of bad. And because of it, they just couldn’t help themselves.

That wasn’t to say all demons were evil, war mongering psychopaths – even if many were. Despite their love of mischief and mayhem, the tricky beasts could also love, and prove themselves trustworthy. But most reserved that aspect of their personality for others of their kind. They had little time for the damned, who lived out their pitiful lives in the circles of Hell. They enjoyed humans that still lived on the surface as one would a pet, a fragile pet that was short lived. As for witches, the undead and other types of entities roaming the dimension of Heaven, Hell and the void in between? They mixed, just not often, and when it did occur it was mostly about fulfilling a sexual need.

A need she’d ignored for five hundred years, satisfying herself when necessary, alone. Ysabel preferred solitude. Even with her own kind, she avoided interaction, disliking on sight most warlocks with their pompous airs. She didn’t trust the other sorceresses, who especially liked to guard their secrets and power, even if they all worked for the Lord of the Pit. If she could truly call one person her friend it would be Nefertiti, the most powerful witch she knew, one with a bevy of lovers. While Ysabel found her brand of sexual based magic not to her taste, she enjoyed the nuggets of wisdom – and even more guiltily, the ribald jests –Nefertiti chose to impart.

Despite her less than inviting personality, Ysabel inadvertently had a few other friends; a psycho – with anger issues that could only be resolved by killing things; a lamia – who went through men as quick as she shed skin; even a vampiress – who was allergic to human blood. Oh, she shouldn’t forget Muriel, Lucifer’s daughter, who wouldn’t go away no matter how many times she slammed the door in her face. Over time, though, she grew quite fond of her. Who wouldn’t when the girl possessed an uncanny ability to drive the Lord to the brink of insanity where he yanked his hair and snorted fire? Muriel was quite the character, and now that she’d settled down, Ysabel at times envied her the home life she’d found with her fallen angel, gorgeous kitty, and undead hunk. While a threesome was not her style – heck, she didn’t even care for a onesome – she couldn’t deny the longing to find the same kind of happiness as her friend. The bitch.

“Hell to witch. Hell to witch. Do you read me?”

Snapping back to attention she found the hot and sexy demon waving his hand in front of her.

“What?”

“I hate to break your obvious fantasy of me doing delightful things to your body, but, I think I know where to find the first guy.”

“Where?”

“According to his file, he’s been having mirror sex with a human on the mortal side who’s been summoning him. Wanna bet he’s gone to get himself a piece of ass?”

Having not read the files, her time since her meeting with Lucifer spent between shopping for clothes that wouldn’t ignite and cursing him out, she could only trust –
gag
– the demon’s assessment. If he ended up wrong, then she could always cast a location spell using some of the blood they’d scraped off the lash used to punish the damned villagers.

“Can you call a doorway to our target location?”

A scowl didn’t make him look any less attractive, the jerk. “No. I didn’t get the right half of demon magic for that. We’ll have to go through one of the permanent doors.”

“I’ll get my broom.”

“Excuse me?”

She smirked. “Broom, as in transportation.”

“What’s wrong with stealing a car?”

“A broom is faster because we can fly straight to our target address from the nearest portal and avoid traffic.” Batting her lashes at him, she smiled tauntingly. “Don’t tell me the big, bad demon is scared of riding a broom? Don’t worry, my passengers don’t fall off. Often.”

With a swish of her hips, she walked away stifling a giggle at his pained expression reflected in a mirror.
Finally, a point for the witch.
She should have known he’d get her back.

Chapter Three

The slender pole of her broom whipped through the seam of his thighs, emerging from him like a three foot long, wooden dick. Grabbing a hold of it, he thrust his hips forward and with a grin said, “Screw Pinocchio’s nose. Now this is what I call wood.”