A Demon And His Witch (5 page)

“Is everything about sex with you?”

“No. I also enjoy conversing about cunnilingus, masturbation, and the state of Hell’s eco system.” She blinked and he fought not to chuckle. “What? Don’t’ tell me you’ve not heard about the overpopulation of our Pit leading to an increase in methane gases which is impeding the natural fabrication of sulfur.”

“Unbelievable,” she muttered as she jammed flight goggles onto her head. Not her best look facially, but the rest of her…Tasty!

Wearing skin tight, black pants, that hugged an exquisitely round butt, a black turtleneck and knee high boots, she looked good enough to eat. Or fuck. He wouldn’t quibble.

Grabbing the rod, which made him emit a groaned, “Yes, baby, that’s it. Pull it,” his partner for the job, straddled the spot in front of him.

“Hold on tight,” she warned.

Hmm, now that sounded more like it. He wrapped his arms around her waist, held her snugger than necessary, and inched up until his groin pressed against her backside.

“Comfortable?” she asked with a wiggle. Before he could answer, she yanked the broom up, squishing his balls in a most uncomfortable manner.

Why the hell am I doing this again?
Oh yeah, because a witch with the naughtiest smirk and taunting attitude dared him. Fuck. The things he did for his job. Okay, that was a lie. He did this just to prove a point. He wasn’t scared of–

“Crazy fucking witch!” he shouted as the broom shot straight up and he held on for dear life while fighting the pain in his nuts as they got royally squashed by the several G’s now powering the broom.

Her answer to his bellow of annoyance?

“Wheeee!”

And how was a demon supposed to stay pissed – even with throbbing balls – when she showed such delight in soaring through the night sky, her round bottom pressed into his crotch, her body a perfect fit for his arms? He couldn’t. A smile crossed his lips. Two could play the game of ‘Bet I can annoy you more.’

Hunching his head, his lips found the shell of her ear. “Need directions?” He blew softly at the end of his query and didn’t miss the shiver that went through her.

“I’ve got it programmed in the broom’s GPS.”

The answer threw him for a loop. In his mind, technology and brooms just didn’t mix. But, back to her reaction at his proximity. He whispered again as his arm inched up to brush the underside of her breasts, a gentle nudge. “So why a broom? Wouldn’t a carpet be more comfortable? We could have
stretched
out.”

“Actually, armchairs make the comfiest ride, but brooms are the easiest to control for some reason. And since Harry Potter, they’ve made a major comeback. Besides, I like going back to my roots.”

“When were you born? The dark ages?”

“I’m almost five hundred and twenty years old, so yes, the dark ages would be about right.”

“That’s right. You’re a cougar!” he exclaimed. “I forgot. That is so fucking hot.”

“I am not old! I don’t look a day older than twenty two which was my age when I died.”

Yeah, he noticed she sported the body of a nubile woman in her prime. “But inside, you’re a Mrs. Robinson with centuries of experience to boast. Like I said, fucking hot.”

“You’re a freak.”

“Nope, just totally turned on. Ever make out on a broom?” He let go of her waist to cup her tits, stroking thumbs over peaks already straining through the fabric of her top.

She squeaked. The broom bucked. He clung to her with one arm, but continued to let his other hand play with her breast.

“Stop that.” The voice said no, but the breathiness of it and the way her bottom pressed against his hard cock said yes.

“Would you prefer I did this instead?” He let his hand move lower, cupping her mound through her pants. The heat almost burned his fingers. A moment, that was all he had to enjoy the humid warmth between her legs before she flipped the broom upside down and shook it. Still, he would have stayed on if she hadn’t muttered, “Electrificar.” A zing went through his arm rendering it numb and he ended up losing his grip and plummeting.

Good for him, she’d already begun their descent, so he didn’t have far to go. Bad for him, he landed in a swimming pool, which considering he wore leather, led to a cold experience he wouldn’t recommend, especially since with all that weight, he sank.

*

Ysabel probably shouldn’t have giggled as he pulled himself from the pool, water streaming from him in thick rivulets. But really, what did he expect? Groping her while she drove, making her all hot and distracted. The jerk. He should count himself lucky. Most guys would have ended up splattered on the sidewalk. Maybe she didn’t hate him after all.

Hair plastered to his skull, dripping like a big sea monster, he glowered at her. “You are an evil witch.”

Fluffing her hair she smiled. “Why thank you. I try my best.”

Keeping an eye on him for violence, because demons liked to retaliate, she instead gaped as he peeled his leather vest off, and then his shirt. Cool spring night her ass, someone give her a fan because it was hot. Knowing he bore a ton of muscle just didn’t prepare a girl for the in the flesh reality of it. She blinked. Swallowed. Clenched her thighs tight, but the fire he’d started while fondling her on the broom just keep burning, hotter and hotter.

“Should I keep going?” he asked with a grin, his hands on the buckle to his leather pants.

“We have a job to do,” she mumbled, whirling and stalking toward the condominium where their target hid. And the job didn’t include Remy working her over with his tongue, hands and dick. Even if he would agree in a heartbeat and make it feel so fucking good.

I don’t sleep with demons. Or men. Or anyone. Don’t trust.
Because, as she well knew, lovers could betray.

Stomping away, she kept reminding herself of that fact, almost muttered it under her breath as a protective mantra when he caught up to her, his looming, silent presence not something she seemed able to ignore. Not wanting to cart their transportation around, she stashed her broom behind a potted plant by the door. She expected Remy to follow suit with his wet clothes, but when she turned around, she found him dressed again, a hint of steam rising from his clothes.

“Figures you’d be a fire demon.”

“It’s what makes me so hot.” He arched a brow and she snorted.

“Idiot.”

A zap from her finger with a muttered word that meant
open
in Spanish, and they were in the building. He crowded her in the elevator and short of staring at the climbing numbers, which screamed cowardice, she couldn’t avoid him. She met his amused gaze.

“Why are you smiling?” she asked.

“Thanks for the swim. I needed that. Nothing worse than a major hard on right before a mission.”

“Do you ever temper your tongue?” She forced herself not to peek lower than his chin.

“Nope. I just let it do what it wants, and might I say, it does
wicked
things.”

“You’re impossible.”

“No, totally possible, and unforgettable.”

“Would you get your mind out of your pants for a second and concentrate on the mission. What’s the plan?”

Leaning against the elevator wall, he rolled his wide shoulders in a shrug. “Kick the door in. Tackle the escaped soul. Pin him down while you tag him and send him back to Hell.”

“Um, ever heard of subtlety? What if he’s not there? What if he’s expected later? What if there’s an army of fucking U.S. soldiers with guns inside?”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. I won’t kick down the door. What’s your plan?”

What did hers consist of? “We’ll knock first.”

“And?”

“I’ll ask if Pedro is there.”

“Really? Because I’m sure this girl isn’t going to think it’s weird that some strange chick is showing up at her door at eleven o’clock at night looking for the ghost she’s been conjuring at night for mirror sex.”

The frown she bestowed upon him just made him smile. “I’ve got a new plan,” he announced.

“Does it involve kicking down the door again?”

“Nope.”

“Are you going to set up a pole and dazzle her with your dancing skills?”

“Nope, but I like the way you mind works. Here’s my idea: you knock on the door and do your thing; talk, lull her into a false sense of security, pump her info, pull out her fingernails one by one. Whatever works for you. While you keep her occupied, I’ll slip into her place from the balcony.”

“How are you going to get to her balcony?”

“Leave that to me.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she muttered.

The smile on his full lips got wider. “Don’t worry, my sexy cougar. We’ll catch the prick and send him back to Hell. Then you can thank me. Preferably naked. On your knees or back. I’m not picky.”

Yeah, he totally deserved the punch in the gut that time. Of course, it hurt her fist more than him seeing as how he was made of granite. The elevator dinged, and, shooting him a dirty look while massaging her knuckles, she exited. He didn’t.

“Aren’t you coming?”

“I hope to later.”

She growled.

He grinned. “You know that look is sexy right?” He laughed at her scowl. “Lighten up, little witch. Just give me five minutes before you knock. You do your thing. I’ll do mine and we’ll be out of here in no time.”

“Why don’t I believe that,” she grumbled.

The elevator doors slid shut leaving her alone. Oddly, despite only meeting him today she kind of missed him. Demon, pain in the ass or not, he somehow made her feel alive when he was around.
Too alive,
she amended wryly, her body still tingling from his touch and nearness. Why him, and why now?

She’d spent five hundred years easily avoiding males. Not desiring or needing one at all. Then, the most vulgar – good looking – annoying – with a wicked body – demon showed up, and suddenly she wanted to strip naked and dance around him like she’d not had an urge to since the last Beltane she celebrated while still alive.

Jerk.

There would be no naked dancing around or on his pole. Nor any tonguing or other things he’d enjoy too much. Never mind she’d enjoy them too. The man was a womanizing pig. Worse even than Francisco, because Remy didn’t even bother to hide it.

It’s men like him that make me glad I’ve sworn off relationships.
And no, she didn’t care to dwell on the fact the nights were lonely, her dildo not cuddly, and her life boring. She would not go through the pain and heartache that came from a lover’s betrayal again.

Not having a watch, she didn’t really know how much time went by since she and Remy parted ways. She tapped her foot, paced up the hall and peeked around the corner, waited until her patience ran out, then approached the door of her target.

Three quick raps and she stood back, trying to appear benign. The door crept open and a wary eye, lined in dark kohl, peered out.

“What do you want?” the girl asked suspiciously.

“I was looking for Pedro. I heard he made it out of that awful prison and I wanted to congratulate him.” Ysabel pasted on a fake smile.

The orb peering at her narrowed. “How do you know about Pedro?”

“We met through our mirror talks, well, more like mirror sex.” Ysabel forced out a false giggle. “That man sure has a way with words. Especially dirty ones. He told me about you. Said you were one hot conjurer. He also told me when he got out, we should all hook up together, if you know what I mean.” Ysabel winked and licked her lips.

The door partially closed but only so the woman on the other side could remove the chain with a rattle. The portal swung open and Ysabel walked into a psychedelic acid trip. Seriously, the tie-die murals, eye-popping cushions on the couch, everything screamed welcome to the seventies – an era she’d experienced second hand on television.

The owner of the place appeared a throwback to the hippy days as well, with her long straight brown hair, flowing patterned skirt and the jangling hoops covering her arms. Ysabel didn’t peruse her for long. The human didn’t interest her. Turning away, she surveyed the apartment, looking for signs of Pedro.

In his late twenties when she collected his soul, after killing him with a garrote, Pedro was a true asshole. Married to a meek woman, he cheated with anything willing to spread its legs. Some said even the farm animals weren’t safe from his advances. He was one of the men who came to fetch her for the pyre. He took great delight in groping her as he carried her to her punishment. Leered as he slid a hand up her skirt under the pretext of looking for a weapon. Whispered disgusting things while he tied the rope. The pervert even sported a hard on as she burned, watching in slack jawed excitement.

He totally deserved what I gave him.
Eternal torment.

But, she didn’t think he agreed judging by the angry countenance he presented when he strode from the bedroom clad only in a pair of boxer shorts. Not exactly a good look for the barrel chested soul with way too much shag carpeting coating his skin. Hair removal companies would have made a fortune off him.

“Fucking witch! You should have stayed in Hell where you belong.”

“I belong? I’m not the sick puppy giving the sheep venereal infections and burning people at the stake.”

“Jealous because I wouldn’t give you a taste?” he taunted with a grab of his groin.

The gagging wasn’t faked. “I think I might never eat again. But enough of your grossness, say goodbye to your girlfriend. You have an appointment with the cat o’nine in Hell.”

“I don’t think so.” He smiled, seeming much too pleased with himself.

How predictable. Ysabel sighed as his lady-friend tossed something at her and chanted.

Pivoting on one foot, she faced the wanna-be sorceress. “You really should try finding a real spell book instead of relying on Google.” Ysabel, while weaker on the mortal plane, had honed her powers through the centuries. She spoke only one word, “Congelado,” and aimed her magic at the human. An expression of surprise on her face, the mortal froze.

Whipping back to face Pedro, Ysabel was just in time for his fist to hit her face.

Head snapping sideways, she didn’t have time to recover before he hit her again, in the stomach doubling her over, gasping. Stupid mortal world. Everything hurt more out here, that and her magic just wasn’t as strong as down in the Pit. Even worse, against the souls she was sent to recover, it was almost nonexistent because part of the curse made her revert to the same strength she held at death when faced with one of the souls she damned. Lucifer and his bloody clauses.