kate storm 04 - witches dont back down (6 page)

"We have reservations at seven thirty."

"Ash made a reservation?" Aunt Tabs raised a brow. Al huffed.

Love doesn't exactly flourish in Hell. And dating is not a word typically found in a demon's vocabulary. They usually point and grab. Any effort Ash made was significant in my book.

"He reserved a table at Spike's."

Spike's is a human bar we like to frequent.

"I didn't know they took reservations." Aunt Tabs stroked Al's back soothingly.

I'd matched the owner of Spike's with the love of his life. They'd been my first True Love match.

"They do when the boss's wife says they do."

Aunt Tabs and I grinned at each other. Al rolled his eyes.

6. Chihauhuas and Demons.

Al and I arrived home shortly before Ash.

Since Ash and I are hoping we can find a way to break both my curse and his tie to Hell, Ash has been dividing his time between short trips to Hell and looking for a job.

We're hoping the day trips will appease his sin and allow him to stay longer with me while we search for an answer.

Plus, there is the small fact Ash is the King of Demons. He has certain responsibilities–kingly duties–to his demon minions. I don't know what they are exactly and frankly I don't really care to know. We're talking about Hell after all. Nothing good goes on there.

I was keeping my fingers crossed he might have a lead on a job.

Although I could support us. My business has picked up quite a bit. I receive new requests for matches all the time now.

Go me.

But a job would give Ash something to do and satisfy his male ego. I've been learning all sorts of things about the male ego lately. Namely, demon kings have kingly egos.

Ash has a tendency to become heated, as in flames literally spark to life over his body, when he gets angry. He almost burnt down my deck the last time we discussed the job situation. I don't have a problem with Ash being a stay-at-home demon. He does.

The problem, as I see it, is that Ash has been a king for a very long time now. He gives orders and expects his minions to follow them. Which they do.

It's a very linear process.

Ash does not take orders. At all.

Unless he opened his own company, I couldn't see Ash finding a job. And I knew having a job would make him happy.

As incredible and sexy as it is to be the King of Demons, it's also a very limited skill set.

I had no idea what Ash was going to do.

I set my purse on my kitchen table and opened the refrigerator door.

"Can I get you something, Al?" I asked him as I pulled out a bottle of a tangy Sauvignon Blanc I'd discovered recently. It went really well with summer afternoons and witchy angst.

"I'll have a beer." He waited for me next to the deck door.

I poured myself a glass and Al a tiny bowl and we out onto my deck.

It's my favorite place. It's the reason I rented my tiny apartment. The deck runs the entire span of my apartment across the back. Three doors from my kitchen, hall and bedroom open onto it. It's shockingly spacious, especially compared to the rest of my apartment.

I've decorated it in browns and pinks. Brown wicker outdoor furniture with pink patterned cushions and white outdoor lights. I used to have three pretty pink Chinese lanterns hanging down the center of my deck, but I'd had to remove those. Ash is quite tall and he kept hitting his head.

I had a view of my neighbor's rooftops, plus the gorgeous mountains surrounding our town of Dominion.

I set my glass and Al's bowl on the table, picked him up and sat down. I needed a few minutes to regroup after my day.

"So who's Aunt Tabs seeing?" Al leaned forward and took a few licks of his beer.

I paused with my wine glass in mid-air. "What are you talking about? Aunt Tabs isn't seeing anyone."

I was totally confused and sincerely hoped Nina's black magic wasn't having any weird side effects on my Chihuahua.

"Ya didn't hear the noise inside her house while we were there? It sounded like a bottle bein' opened. And she made a point to meet us on her porch."

Now that Al pointed it out, it did seem a little odd. I just assumed my aunt had been watching for us and figured we would be in a hurry to get home.

"You heard someone opening a bottle
inside
her house?" I trusted Al's ears. All canines have sharp hearing. But it still gave me pause.

I've never known my aunt to date and I've never known her to be anti-social either. If a friend had been inside my aunt's house, she would have introduced us.

"It sounded like a wine bottle."

That made sense. Aunt Tabs has never met a bottle of wine she didn't like. She's not a lush. She just likes to drink wine.

Not mentioning a guest in her house did not make sense.

"Huh." I wasn't sure what else to say. I also didn't want to call my aunt and ask her. I'd met my quota for secrets and bad things for the day. Honestly, I was not ducking or dodging the issue. I planned to call her tomorrow. And say what I didn't quite know.

To my knowledge, Aunt Tabitha had never kept a secret from me before. There were things we hadn't discussed and certain topics that we avoided, but she had never kept anything from me deliberately.

I'm a big witch. I don't expect to know everything about my aunt's life, but we're also a very small coven. If something important–or someone important–was in my aunt's life, then I wanted to know.

"Did you hear anything else?"

"No, but it smelled like a red. Possibly a Cab." Al settled down onto my lap with his feet facing my knees, elbows bent, Sphinx-like. I stroked his back.

Curiouser and curiouser. My aunt only drank red wine on special occasions.

Why in the world would my aunt try to hide someone from
me
?

****

About a half hour later, Al's ears twitched. "Ash is home." He more or less mumbled the words. My deck faced west and the evening sun and warmth went perfectly with our wine and beer.

I would have been almost asleep myself if it wasn't for the fact that my mind was racing from Nina Georgette to Lana Jacobs to my Aunt Tabitha to the lack of progress I'd made on finding out how to handle Morgause. Frankly, karaoke with Morgan seemed almost appealing at this point.

A few minutes later, the deck door opened and Ash stepped out holding a beer.

My heart went into over-drive and I forgot about all my worries. In fact, my mind basically went blank and simply soaked in the beauty of Ash.

He must have been job searching today. He wore a black leather head wrap that covered his short, grey horns. The leather ties dangled over his matching vest. Ash had a certain style he liked. Black biker boots, black pants and a sleeveless vest held together by a simple tie in the front. The only things that varied were the colors of his vest and head wrap if he wore one.

I had no complaints. What-so-ever.

The vest left his massive, heavily muscled arms on display as well as giving sneak peeks at his wide and ripped chest.

From the top of his head to his boots his look screamed bad ass! Knowing him as intimately as I do, I can tell you it's not merely a look. Ash is a total bad ass.

The scars along the left side of his face and upper arm were almost overkill in my opinion.

I love a good scar. I find them endlessly fascinating. Although part of me never failed to sit up and reach for my wand every time I looked at Ash.

Not that Ash needed my defense. He can take care of himself exceedingly well. It's an automatic response I have to those I love.

Ash had received those scars in a battle for the demon realm throne. He'd fought and killed his own father after his father killed his mother.

Most of us carry our scars on the inside. Ash's are right there for everyone to see.

I love him all the more for it.

Where Ash's scars leave off, the mark of his sin takes over. Ash's sin is lust. He can reach inside a person, see their deepest and darkest and bring it out to the front.

It used to worry me. Now I just simply enjoy it.

What witch doesn't want a dominant demon king in her bed who can see her naughtiest fantasies and then fulfill them? Really, really well, I might add.

His sin is tattooed over his upper arm and chest in both thick and thin lines that appear vaguely Celtic with red flames intertwined.

Every time I touch those marks, they react. Lifting and caressing and wrapping around my hand like a living thing. His sin has a magic all on its own.

I don't know what kind of magic. It's not one I’m familiar with. I just know it reacts to my touch and my touch alone.

Ash says he can feel it inside when I touch him there. Like an extra beating of his heart.

"Kate." He didn't even say hi, just stated my name before he slid his big hand into my curls and tilted my face back for a devastating kiss.

Devastating for my peace of mind and my body. It about wrecked me.

I know my heart was beating way, way too fast and I had trouble focusing by the time Ash let go and pulled a chair over to sit next to me.

"Get a grip, Doll."

I blinked several times and inhaled deeply before I looked at Al.

Part of me always froze, stood still and took stock, when Ash kissed or touched me in front of Al.

Like I said, Al has been in love with me for almost as long as I've had him. It's something I hate to say I've taken for granted.

The sky is blue. Black magic is bad. Al is in love with me.

When you've been ostracized like I've been, you don't take love lightly.

Even if it's from your Chihuahua.

Before Ash, I worried, but treasured Al's love.

After Ash, I worried, but wasn't sure what to do with Al's love.

I think I've always assumed Al would remain in love with me. My one constant. Something I'd continue to treasure and yet fret over. A total dichotomy.

In a way it suited both of us.

But life is never constant. Something I should know better than anyone.

I was having as much difficulty, if not more, than Al in dealing with the new realities in our lives.

"Ya should be used to him kissin' ya by now." Al didn't even bother to open an eye as he scolded me. I took a large sip of my wine. And tried to act nonchalant about it all.

"How was your day?" My voice didn't even hint at the molten destruction of my insides from Ash's kiss.

Go me.

Ash grunted.

Damn it.

I liked my porch way too much to repeat my offer of supporting us and risk Ash flaming up.

And I had no idea what to say in commiseration. A hopefully soon-to-be ex-king of demons didn't have a tidy resume.

How many jobs these days specified the ability to burst into flames and kick ass rule over demon minions?

I had not been able to come up with a single one.

And it appeared as if Ash hadn't either.

"Did you visit Hell?" I worried every time I asked that question.

1) It was always a gamble if Ash a) would be able to return once he was in Hell and b) if his mini trips would even work in terms of satisfying his sin's tie to Hell. Plus 2) a part of me always questioned whether or not Ash truly wanted to leave Hell. In order to be with me, Ash had to give up his kingdom. For me. The chubby, half-bred witch.

I'm so used to being on the outside, the idea that anyone, let alone the demon love of my life, would sacrifice so much was . . . difficult.

I try to present a confident facade. I'm working on incorporating that front into my reality, but all too often my own personal demons sneak out.

"No." Ash tilted his bottle up and drank. "I spoke with another demon lord. Everything seems to be in order for the moment."

I almost laughed at the idea that anything in Hell was in order when I noticed Ash's knuckles. They were white.

It could just be the stress of searching for work, but so help me, if Ash was hiding something else from me . . .

Ash set his beer bottle on the table and reached over, picking me up out of my chair and setting me down on his lap.

I'm not a small witch. The amount of strength needed to move my body, let alone by upper torso only, almost sent me into a full Victorian swoon.

Ash hadn’t even disturbed Al, who was now snoring in my lap.

Ash stroked one long finger down my cheek. "You worry too much, Kate."

He was right. I did worry. However, given the current state of happenings in my life, I wasn't sure
too much
was an accurate description.

For the moment though, I was sitting in Ash's lap. Surrounded by his massive chest and his equally amazing love. No worries, simply pure happiness.

I set aside everything on my brain and enjoyed the moment.

7. Un-Dead Best Friends.

Morgan and Drake arrived several minutes early. They were going to watch Al while Ash and I went on our date.

Al didn't need a babysitter. If the hitman had any idea I had asked Morgan to come over and watch him while Ash and I went out, he'd be furious.

And hurt.

It was an issue we skirted all the time. Al refused to acknowledge his canine form and I refused to do anything that might hurt him.

However, he was still a very small Chihuahua.

I worried if he was home alone.

Especially when Ash and I went on a date. Not only could something happen to him, but I also worried he would get lonely. Or depressed.

So Morgan, my aunt and Désirée Norma-Sue took turns watching Al.

It is not easy coming up with plans designed to trick a hitman.

Tonight Morgan had planned a bourbon tasting. She and Drake were bringing the bourbon. Al was leading the tasting.

"Hey, Chickie!" Morgan knocked once and opened the door. "Hey, Al!"

I met her in the hall.

The majority of Morgan's gorgeous red curls were gathered up in a high pony tail. Several perfect coils hung loose on either side of her face. The red emphasized her creamy white complexion and emerald green eyes. She wore a bright green wrap dress held together by one big white button on the left side of her waist with a low neckline and three quarter sleeves. She matched it with white knee high spiked boots. No jewelry. It was simple, stunning and I had to blink several times. I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen Morgan in something other than leather.