How to Love a Blue Demon (23 page)

Eyoen smiled slightly. “It’s not my pheromones making you act this way, my love.”

Cass swung around to face him. Love? Great. Let’s throw another spark-prone log on the fire. She emptied the bottle down her throat and reached for another one.

Eyoen stepped forward and took the beer from her, put it back in the frig and shut the door.
Cass let him; she didn’t really want it. She just wanted to keep her hands busy so she wouldn’t reach for him. He took her hands and wrapped them around his waist, pulling her close until her head nestled against his shoulder and his hand covered the back of her neck.

“What you feel is honest desire.”

Cass shook her head even as she snuggled closer. “No. It’s that demon hoo-doo you got goin’ on. It’s gotta be.”

“No,” he chuckled.

“You said the pheromones would arouse me more.”

“Yes. I said they enhanced what was already there. But they manufacture nothing. They prompt nothing. They are merely the icing on an already thickly frosted cake. What you feel for me is strong, and it’s growing stronger. I know you’ve never
felt this way before.”

He could say that again.

“You’ve never felt this way before.”

“Ha ha. Very funny. Do they have comedians on Cyanus?”

Eyoen laughed softly. “No, we don’t. Our idea of humor is different, and don’t try to distract me. I don’t want you to be afraid of what we share. It’s common for mated pairs to exhibit an intense joining. It’s not unlike your falling in love. But what we share is more. It’s,” he faltered. “It’s biblical. It’s intense, and there’s not much either one of us will be able to do to control it.”

“So you’re saying I just have to put up with you being a jealous asshole? An
d beating me on the side of the road while fucking me over the hood of the car?”

“It was the trunk,” he said,
deadpan. “And I didn’t beat you. A few taps on that lush bottom of yours, nothing more. And you liked it all. Every stroke.”

She could feel his erection nudging her belly and couldn’t bring herself to deny it.

“Will you at least try to work on the jealousy, Eyoen?”

He sighed, staring into her e
yes for a long, eloquent moment that suggested it would be nearly impossible. “Yes, my dear. I will try. But you must do something for me.”

“What?”

He gave her the puppy dog eyes again.

“Don’t be too angry with me if I fail?”

Cass laughed softly. “Who taught you that facial expression anyway?”

He grinned
, rubbing himself against her. “I saw a man do it on the street, and it seemed very effective. Is it working on you?”

“
Never you mind, you demon.”

The next two weeks were some of the happiest of both t
heir lives. Cass was shocked at how little time they spent apart, and even more shocked that it didn’t bother her a bit. They even grocery shopped together, and she had a great time introducing him to different foods. She was surprised to find that he liked cooking, often taking over and producing food as tasty as anything she made.

Housework was a snap when he was around since he did everything by magic, which meant everything was practically perfect.
They exercised together, and no matter how far Cass ran, Eyoen kept pace effortlessly, and literally never broke a sweat. Apparently demon physiology required that he expend quite a bit more energy before he got winded or tired. This was a boon since after a run, when she was sweaty and tired, he’d wash her in the shower and massage her body until she either fell asleep or the tiredness fell away and they made love.

They had sex a lot. Several times a day in fact, and Cass was amazed at his stamina and hers.

“I’ve never had this much sex before, and my body doesn’t seem to mind the constant, you know.”

He frowned, confused.

“You know, sometimes when a woman has too much sex, she’ll get a little, you know, sick or sore.”

Discussions of yeast infections and UTIs seemed a little too raw, even considering some of the sexual shenanigans they’d gotten up to. Just that morning he’d fucked her over a bench in the park. He’d thrown up one of his shields, and when her eyes weren’t rolling up into the back of her head, she watched people walking by as though
she wasn’t panting like a dog and writhing all over a large blue man’s cock.

Eyoen scowled.
“You don’t have to worry about anything like that ever. As long as you are in close proximity to me, your health will remain perfect.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “My energy is very strong, and because you are my sole priority, it’s all focused on you.”

W
hen she had to attend meetings he either tagged along and sat listening attentively or he’d wait somewhere nearby. If there were men there he always insisted, very politely of course, on sticking around. She just rolled her eyes and let him.

She’d watched a few times to see what he would do when she shook a man’s hand or on one occasion when an old acquaintance gave her a hu
g, but aside from a tight jaw, two large, balled fists and some rather beautiful, if alarming, eye color changes, he managed to keep his cool. For which she thanked him later.

When she played in her studio he sat quietly an
d futzed around on the Internet. He told her his investments continued to do well, and he’d made progress on his spa. He’d decided to open one after he massaged Priti and then Boyd, and they were effusively grateful.

Priti –
who looked even prettier once Eyoen cleaned her out – was ecstatic when she discovered she’d lost five pounds, and they all got to feel her belly when the baby began to kick cheerfully.

“If you can stand pushing shit out of people
all day long you could make a killing,” she laughed. “You’d be surprised how many people have trouble going to the bathroom.”

Actually he wouldn’t. Eyoen could sense human illness or discomfort. If he walked beside someone he knew if their knees were hurting or
if an old injury had started to ache. Sometimes he’d brush up against people just to soothe their pain. Cass looked suspicious when a succession of old ladies fawned over him. But she laughed when she realized they weren’t just ogling his tall, fit body and supermodel handsome face. They were happy because when he touched them, their gout, migraines, joint pain and sundry inflammations eased or vanished entirely. There may have been some ogling too.

If she was otherwise occupied in the house, on the pho
ne or working with Lucky or Tommy, he’d take Bullet for a walk. The dog adored him since he could roughhouse with him without risking an injury. When Bullet got too frisky and yanked his pants leg or growled, Eyoen just laughed and tossed the animal gently onto his back and rubbed him until he fell into a contented, panting heap.

He took the attention they received from the media in stride. He could care less that he was
a target for the paparazzi. They would never find out any information about him, he assured her. And they didn’t. But speculation was rampant, and some of the stories were so wild and crazy they laughed over them. One paper said he was an exile from a foreign country off the coast of Switzerland. Picking up what he’d said about opening a spa the night of the club opening, another said he was a fitness guru from Morocco, and one web site insisted that he was prince of a small Middle Eastern country and wildly rich from oil money.

“That’s clo
sest to the truth than anything.” He told her his family did own most of Cyanus’ fuel sources, and he was a prince of the realm.

“
Well, now that you’ve been linked with me, it’s open season, my friend.”

Eyoen just laughed.
“Your paparazzi could never love stars as much as the average demon fawns over a royal. You will see.”

Cass frowned at his back as
he walked away. She would?

“My King?”

Carlow’s eyes opened slowly. He wanted to call out to the Queen
, but he was so tired he couldn’t muster the energy to open his mouth.

“My King. Are you here
?”

I am h
ere, my dear.

Ah. There you are
.

“My stars!” she gasped, seeing him lying prone on his back on the floor of his throne room
and rushed to his side. “Are you, ill, my dear? Should I call a healer? Where does it hurt?”

Everywhere
, but he smiled at her
.
“I’m not hurt, beloved. Merely tired and taking advantage of this cool floor.”

The heat
in the room had risen measurably along with his emotions. Which meant either he stripped naked, never a good idea with a palace full of servants, or lay down on the tiles to catch his breath.

“Yo
u sound tired,” his wife whispered, lying beside him and taking his large hand in her much smaller one. She let her energy flow freely into him, and he breathed deep, immediately feeling better.

“Thank you, my Queen.”

“You’re exhausted fighting those horrible demons.”

It was true, a statement that required no answer.

“I just don’t understand that little –.” She said a very unqueenlike word comparing Unjel to the Cyani version of a vulture. “He’s a grasping, horrible, cowardly menace. I hope you find him soon, Carlow.”

“I will.”

“What will you do with him?”

“He will be tried and convicted and likely sentenced to death for attempting to overthrow the monarchy.”

She sighed. She understood the need for the harsh punishment. No one this bold and dangerous could receive leniency. It would be tantamount to issuing an invitation to any miscreant in the heavens to think that Cyanus was weak and ripe for plucking. But she was deeply saddened. She could remember when Unjel had been charming. There had always been something off about him, but he had once been their friend, had played with her children when they were small.

“You can’t take much more of this,” she said after awhile.

“I’m much stronger than I look, my dear,” he laughed, his energy returning faster given proximity to his mate.

“What may I do to aid you, my King?
Bid me do anything, and it will be done.”

“Nothing, my dear. I need only that you be happy, and occasionally, hold my hand once in awhile,” he teased, kissing the back of her lavender-blue hand.

She squeezed him, then turned on her side to stroke his chest. She ran her hand all over him, lingering at the opening to his robes. Sensing he didn’t have the strength to make love just then, she settled for stroking him over them, hard, so that her energy would seep through the silk.

“If he gets through our defenses –”

“He won’t.”

“If he does, he’ll hurt me just for spite.”

“He will never touch you. I won’t allow it.”

He sounded so sure, but t
he Queen was no fool. Nothing was black or white or royal blue in matters of war. Anything could and often did happen. Her stroking hand meandered up to his neck where she rubbed the pulse beating strong beneath his square jaw. “You would kill me first, would you not?”

Carlow said nothing.
There was nothing to say. They both knew the answer to her question.

The Queen said nothing more. But e
very night after that she spent hours lying on the floor of the throne room with the King, helping to heal his exhausted body. They talked defense patterns – she had been a student of history before they met, with an unusual penchant for wars and political strategy – casually. But she knew her ideas helped the King. He never shared the details of what was happening at their borders. But she could sense his satisfaction as they discussed things, and knew instinctively it was because he’d used something she told him to aid his efforts to vanquish their enemy.

She spent time every day formulating new
stratagems to bring him. Defense and offense maneuvers suited for the environment, the battle capabilities of the guard, and the known weaknesses of their enemy. Again, she mentioned these things casually. If the King knew she was trying to help him, he would stop her. Not because her advice wasn’t useful, but because he did not want her to worry, to think overlong on anything that did not bring her pleasure.

It was a life he’d promised her, and a life he’d delivered. He would allow nothing to stand in the way of her happiness. So she was clever. Talking honestly of stories she was reading, but neglecting to mention they weren’t the fiction she preferred, and were instead the history books she’d long since put away in the hustle and bustle of raising their family and keeping him in line.

It helped her to keep the worry at bay, to help him. But every night she catalogued the lines on her beloved’s handsome face, noting which ones were carved deeper, that the strong body became ever so slightly thinner day by day from spending so much personal energy guarding their home.

D
espite her best efforts – feeding the King his meals from her own hand when he was too tired to feed himself, telling stories of Cyani battles and wars on other planets, taking over many of the court duties he could no longer bother with – her worry grew deeper, because every accursed night her beloved King grew just a tad bit weaker.