Satan (13 page)

“You know, all of a sudden, I
am
drowsy. And the thought of putting on socks and my boots isn’t appealing in the least. Do you mind if we put the walk off for tomorrow?” She leaned into him when he hauled her closer.

“The walk was for you, missy. What do you want to do, then? It’s eleven.” He kissed the top of her head, gathered the plates and cutlery, and headed over to the sink.

She collected the serving containers, followed his trail, and handed the dishes to him. “Curl up on the couch, sip wine, admire our tree, while you read me Bryon for a bit?”

“You go on in to the library and start admiring. I’ll stack the dishwasher and join you when I’m done.” He opened the appliance’s door.

“Sounds like a plan. I’ll take the wine and our glasses.” She stifled another yawn, strolled back to the table, retrieved the three items and her cell, and sauntered around the island and out of the room.

It occurred to her that she hadn’t noticed a single television in the house, which was a damned good thing since her feature on the local Christmas Eve parade was scheduled to be aired on the late night news. No wonder he hadn’t recognized her, Satan didn’t watch television on a regular basis. Did he even own a TV?

She entered the library and had to pause and sigh in front of the decorated evergreen. Her last Christmas on this earth. Her last New Year’s on this earth. Regret set in, but it was too late to change her mind. It wasn’t as if she and Satan had even a chance at a future together. Once he discovered how she’d deceived him…she was
so
not going to go there. Live and relish the present because her future ended soon.

After placing the bottle and glasses on the table, she used her cell to cancel her flight, and checked the schedule for New Year’s Day. All the flights were full. Well, she’d figure out her return to Trinidad later. She should never have agreed to extend their time together. This was
so
going to come back and bite her in the ass. She pocketed her cell, glanced up, and smiled.

What a beautiful tree.

She jumped when Satan snaked his hands around her waist and hugged her from behind.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you. I
was
whistling. What’s got you so wrapped up?” He nuzzled her ear.

“Just admiring the tree.” She pivoted, rested her palms on his chest, and met his gaze. “Ready to read Byron?”

“Picked your reading?”

“
And Thou Art Dead
. I know. I have morbid taste in both books and poetry. The only other work that I think captures grief as well as
And Thou Art Dead
is—”

“Let me guess.
Funeral Blues
.”

For no good reason at all, she teared up. They gelled so well. Both had the same taste in authors, were smoking hot in bed, and even loved the same depressing poems.

Why did she have to meet him now?

She nodded not certain her vocal chords would function correctly.

“Your eyes are misting. No sadness allowed tonight. How about we trade the reading for a comedy? What’s your favorite funny movie?” He brushed a wayward curl off her face.

“On what? You don’t have a television.”

“But, I do. In fact, I have four. And a media room. All state of the art.” He winked at her.

“Where? There’s no TV in the kitchen. Or in this room.” She scanned the library.

“There’s one in the kitchen. It’s one of those descend-from-the-ceiling types. The study has a much larger version of the same kind. The media room has more of a screen, though it’s also a smart TV. And there’s a brand new curve HD TV in the master bedroom. Your pick.”

Shit.
She’d have to find a way to keep the media out of the coming days. Maybe suggest a technology-free holiday? The notion had been introduced to her at a conference where Arianna Huffington had been a keynote speaker. Yeah, that could work.

He snapped his fingers in front of her face. “Angel. Come back to me.”

“Sorry. Just daydreaming for a second.”

“So, what’s your choice, kitchen, media room, study, or bedroom?”

Angel considered the options. She wasn’t in the mood for another fucking round, agreed with him about the comedy and not getting depressed, and figured maybe they’d both fall asleep before he became too amorous. “Bedroom.”

“K. Here.” He picked up the bottle and the two glasses and gave them to her. “I’ll grab your carry-on from the kitchen and bring it up.”

“It’s open. You’ll need to zip it up.”

“Gotcha. The master bedroom’s at the end of the upstairs hallway. It’s three doors down from where we slept last night.” He patted her rump. “Get going, missy.”

She spun around, eyed the gift bag hidden behind the chair, decided it could wait until the morning, and strolled out of the room. He joined her at the doorway, tweaked her nose, and disappeared around the curve in the corridor.

He was the most fascinating man she’d ever met—intelligent, with an off-beat sarcastic sense of humor. More than well-read, sexier than sin with the kind of sinewy hard body any woman would drool over, and she liked him. Angel meandered to the stairs. She really, really
liked
him. Wished they had met in another time, another place, another universe, all the way up the steps.

If only she hadn’t put her plan into play, maybe she could’ve asked the Hades Squad Security firm for help. Yeah. Right. She wanted Malik Mansoor behind bars for life. Since that was never, ever going to happen, he had to die. Even if Satan was falling for her the way she was for him, he’d never murder for her.

Angel came to a dead halt at the end of the hallway.

Hell and damnation. She was falling in love with him.

“Like it?”

Her heartbeat spiraled. She scrambled wildly when her grip on one of the glasses slipped, but couldn’t recover. The crystal tumbled onto thick, plush carpet.

Mesmerized by the spreading stain, for a second, she couldn’t haul her gaze away from the floor. Furious with herself, and pissed at him, for simply being him and making her love him, she whirled around and spat, “Damn it, Satan. The next time you sneak up on me and scare me out of my wits, I’ll throw something at you.”

He dropped her carry-on, captured her wrists, and pried the bottle, and goblet from her hold. He pinned her with an intent predatory stare. “Where’s this anger coming from? What happened?”

She turned her head to the side not able to formulate a plausible answer while he inspected her with such thoroughness.

“Look at me, Angel.”

His snapped command demanded immediate obedience.

Deflated, dejected, and wallowing in self-pity, she forced herself to look right at him. She had nothing left in her mental or emotional vaults, but the truth. “I don’t want to fall for you.”

His facial muscles relaxed, and he shot her a glance so filled with tenderness, she went weepy and weak-kneed.

“I never expected to fall for you.” She covered her face with her hands. “I should leave. Right now. This is
so
not going to end well.”

Seconds ticked by in a muted silence. She lifted her pinkies and risked a quick peek.

He dumped the wine and the glasses, plural, onto the dresser.

When had he picked up the fallen goblet?

She had no clue what to do or say and for some stupid reason couldn’t stop studying the red splotch on the cream carpet. “Soda water or baby powder will get out the stain.”

His elegant toes came into her view, and he caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger. She focused on the hollow of his throat. “Forget about the rug. Angel, look at me.”

“Don’t want to. Can we just pretend that the last five minutes never happened?” Misery and embarrassment flavored with a watershed of humiliation swamped her.

“Nope.” He sounded amused.

Annoyed she stared right at him. “This is
not
funny.”

“Wrong. It’s funny, and endearing, and one of the reasons I fell for
you
. You’re honest about your emotions.” His lips softened into such a gentle and caring smile, her chest ached.

Angel opened her mouth with the intention of telling him everything—that she was a liar who was bent on murder.

He silenced her by pressing a finger to her lips. “Don’t. Don’t try to take it back. We’re on the same page, Angel. Let’s play our time together by ear.”

She squared her shoulders. “You should know that I intend to stick to our agreement. I leave first thing on January first.”

There, he would have that one truth from her. She clenched her teeth and met his gaze.

“I can work with that. Lighten up. I’m not going to go all sentimental on you. ”

She took a deep breath, resolved to keep everything casual and tame, and continued, “Mind if I unpack my toiletries and freshen up first?”

“Not at all. I put your carry-on on the bed bench and I also brought up your purse. I’ll get the TV and DVR set up while you do that. Kind of curious to see if the curve HD lives up to its hype.”

“Me too. Be back in a sec.” She hurried to her suitcase, retrieved her cosmetic bag, dumped her cell into a side pocket, spied a wide portico on the left, and made straight for it. The archway fronted a spacious sitting area with double doors on the other end, which led to the actual bathroom.

Too flustered to register the ambience or décor of the cavernous chamber, she washed and dried her hands avoiding her reflection in the mirror above the sink. She noticed a still-packaged toothbrush and a selection of different brands of toothpaste lying on the black and white speckled marble counter. She smiled at the thoughtful gesture. Her burgeoning depression lifted. She checked the room out while unwrapping the brush and unpacking her bag.

No doubt the focal point of the room was the massive sunken Jacuzzi tub. She’d never encountered aquamarine marble before, admired the color, and imagined what a picture perfect tropical lagoon it must be filled with water.

She brushed her teeth, patted her mouth dry, and rushed back to the master hoping he hadn’t tested the TV with a local network. He sat on the bed, his back against a pile of huge cushions jammed against a curved metallic headboard.

The burnt charcoal covers had been pulled back to reveal black satin sheets. She gestured to the gleaming fabric. “You didn’t.”

He patted the space next to him. “I did. Decided on a movie?”

“Home Alone? I know it’s kind of a kid movie, but—” She clambered onto the bed.

“Perfect.”

He raised his arm, she ducked under, snuggled close to his side, and rested her cheek on his bare chest. She studied the new TV. “Is it hanging?”

“Yep. Suspended on that track.” He pointed the remote in his hand at the ceiling. “It can be moved three feet forward or back.”

“Nice.” She yawned.

“Want to slip into one of my T-shirts?” He swept her hair to one side and kissed her neck. “I have this strong hunch you’re not going to see the end of the movie.”

She stiffened. “I promise to try.”

“Don’t bother to, sweet Angel. Not for me. I’m more than content. Here you go.” He handed her a black T-shirt.

“There are times when your anticipating my every move irritates the stuffing out of me, but this isn’t one. Turn for a sec.” She motioned circles with a finger.

“So cute. You’re shy. And you’re blushing again.”

An audacious smile chased his lips, but he gave her the back of his head. She wriggled out of her clothes including her panties, tugged the shirt on, and lifted her hips to tuck the hem under her butt. The T-shirt was extra-long and reached her mid-thigh.

“Ready.” She balled up her tights, tank, and sweater and panties, eyed the bench at the end of the bed, and tossed.

“Bingo,” he said when the garments plopped onto the center of the bench. “We’ll have to do a one-on-one hoop contest.”

She blew on her bent fingers. “Hate to tell you this, but I’m a nine out of ten gal.”

“Forewarned is forearmed. We’ll have to come up with an interesting bet for that contest.” He hauled her close, draped one of her legs over his thighs, toed the sheets and comforter up, and draped the warm fabric around her waist. “Comfortable?”

She craned her neck to study his expression. “Absolutely. Satan?”

“Angel?” He smiled down at her.

“Jess tried to set us up together a couple of weeks ago—did you know about that?” Would the chemistry between them have been the same on a blind date?

“No. When was this?” She liked the three frown lines that dragged his bushy brows together.

“Thanksgiving. She invited me to go with her and Devil to the Chapman’s. When I dropped out at the last minute, she told me why she wanted me to come. Apparently, you always celebrate the holiday with the Chapman family, but you didn’t this year.” Why was she babbling on about such trivia? She stifled a yawn.

Angel dozed off and on throughout the movie.

Satan’s thoughts wandered to her last comment about Jess setting the two of them up. He had pissed off Gavin and Colleen Chapman, Sinner’s parents, royally by not showing up on Thanksgiving.

But one of his informants had pinpointed Malik Mansoor’s location four days before the holiday, and he had jumped at the chance to take the terrorist out. He had been searching for Malik since his last tour in Afghanistan.

His last deployment as an active SEAL ended in catastrophic disaster. Malik and his ISIS troops stormed the medical center, captured Farida, her father, brother, Satan, and two of his TEAM members. Then they seized the entire village. Malik accused Satan of raping Farida, tortured him for two days, and forced Farida’s stoning to death. Satan squeezed his eyes shut and tried to block the memory of Farida’s agonizing screams.

Over this past Thanksgiving holiday, Satan avenged Farida’s death. What would Angel think of him if she knew? He glanced down at her and was immediately captivated.

Satan watched Angel as she settled into a deep slumber. He enjoyed the slight nuances of her every sleep-stage. She went from that first light phase of snoozing, to the second in less than five minutes, her heart rate slowed, and her body temperature dipped a tad. He covered her shoulders with the sheets and pressed closer to share his body warmth.