Save My Soul (5 page)

Instead of Beatrice, it was about the best looking man Anna had ever laid eyes on––airbrushed magazine spreads notwithstanding. Dark hair fell around his face, framing an olive complexion and cold, bright green eyes that appeared to burn with a light of their own.

They seemed to pull her in, hypnotize her. They were eyes that had known violence. Whether as the victim or the perpetrator, it was too hard to tell, but she suspected the latter.

His lips were as full as any man’s had a right to be, and Anna had to stop herself from imagining nibbling on his lower lip. He had the kind of cheekbones sculptors spent a lifetime learning to chisel into stone. Rather than sitting in the chair, he seemed to drape. Casually. Sinfully.

Shirtlessly.

She closed her eyes and raised a hand to her head, feeling for bumps. After what she’d just experienced the last thing that seemed normal was lusting after a hot stranger in her bedroom. Maybe she was dreaming again.

The next words to fly from her mouth were so stupid she would later blame a mild concussion. “You should know this house is haunted, and the last guy who tried anything got beaten bloody for his trouble. So you should ask yourself if it’s worth losing your good looks over.”

His deep, familiar chuckle slid into her, too fluid to be human. Anna vaulted out of the bed, taking the sheets with her, wrapping them around her frame as she went.

“I’ve seen it all,” he said waving a hand away as if he could never be moved by such banal things as nudity.

Not while I was conscious , Anna thought. She backed farther away as he stood and advanced on her. “Um . . . so Beatrice isn’t here?” Diversionary tactics weren’t her strong suit.

There never was a Beatrice. It was him. Her throat tightened again as that thought slammed fully into her brain. She tried to shut out the memories of all the times she’d been a little too naked in the house, either ignoring the ghost or thinking it was a woman.

A slow smile spread over his face. “I’m the thing that killed her.” Fear pulsed through her at his words, and he seemed to savor it like wine. “Beatrice went to Heaven where all good girls with intact souls go when they die. Tell me, my dear, do you think your soul will be intact when I’m finished with you?”

Anna wasn’t sure what was required to keep her soul intact, and was even less sure she could manage to follow whatever the rule was. Especially since she found herself simultaneously repelled and attracted to him.

Again, the thought that she shouldn’t be feeling anything toward this person, or any person right now, danced across her mind, but then evaporated into nothing.

“W-what are you?” She maneuvered around the edge of the room, moving toward the seat he’d just vacated.

“Haven’t you guessed yet? A dirty old demon that slips into your dreams and watches you touch yourself?” When no recognition lit her face, he sighed, exasperated. “I’m an incubus.”

He seemed very put out about it. “You women know all about werewolves and vampires, but the concept of an incubus escapes you. I don’t know why I bother sometimes.”

Anna reached the chair. His self-pity over not being listed on the top ten list of most seductive villains ever was enough distraction for her to grab the floor lamp. She swung it out in a wide arc.

The lamp felt awkward in her hand, but wasn’t too heavy. Yet it went through him as if he wasn’t there and crashed to the floor, causing Anna to lose her balance.

The room was once again cloaked in darkness as his hand shot out and stopped her fall. She pulled away when she was steady, grabbing at the sheet that had slipped partially off her body. Her eyes darted around the dark trying to readjust and determine where the threat had moved to.

She worked to make her breathing and her heartbeat quieter, as if the demon wouldn’t hear them anyway. As if he couldn’t see her somehow in the darkness trying to keep from pulling another fainting act.

Demon. The idea was so ridiculous, and yet . . .

The lamp had gone through him. She’d seen it. How could he touch her if she couldn’t touch him? Was she dreaming again? God, I hope so. Please, let this be a dream.

The silhouette of the demon moved swiftly in front of her, and she found herself backed against the wall. Anna struggled, her arms flailing out to protect herself.

“Feisty,” he growled, pinning both of her small wrists against the wall with one hand. The demon’s lips grazed her ear, and his hot breath sent a wave of unexpected pleasure through her stomach. “I like feisty in a girl.”

His free hand roamed over her side, causing the satin material to slide up against her flesh. She remembered those hands, only now it wasn’t a dream. God help her. She couldn’t stop the little mewl from leaving her mouth. Then her struggling resumed. She couldn’t let him do this.

“You’d save me from Marshal just so you can finish what he started?” Her voice came out flat, as if the odds against her had stolen all her energy.

He’d protected her, carried her to bed, tended to her wounds, watched over her. Now she was to be his victim, instead? She ignored the voice in her head that said being this man’s victim didn’t sound like a bad deal.

He growled softly, then pushed himself away from the wall. The door opened and light from the hallway spilled in. His back was to her, every muscle held in tension when he spoke.

“Put on some clothes, and meet me in the living room in five minutes.” Or else was left unspoken. “We have to talk.”

Anna didn’t ask why they couldn’t talk here. She preferred getting the sex demon away from her bed. Thank you very much.

When he’d gone, she gingerly stepped around the broken glass and reached for the light switch. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking as she fumbled through the dresser drawer. Caroline’s tight-lipped response about what had been going on made sense now.

The house shook as the demon in her living room expressed his displeasure at being kept waiting.

“I’m coming!” She pulled a Ramones T-shirt over her head. What am I doing?

When she got downstairs, the demon was on her sofa doing the draping thing again as if he hadn’t just rattled the house like an impatient ass. He stroked Scarlett’s back while she arched and purred more obscenely than if she’d been in heat. Rhett was crouched on the floor by his feet, hissing and scowling up at the interloper.

“Ah, there you are,” he said. “Have a seat.”

His lord of the manor attitude grated, causing her to forget for a moment that he was the big scary that had at least one, and possibly several murders under his belt.

“Fuck you,” she said. But she sank into the chair he indicated.

“That offer was on the table when you had a histrionic fit a few moments ago,” he replied, still petting the animal on his lap. Scarlett looked up at her and offered a soft, reproachful, “mrarrr”, informing Anna she was quite stupid.

“Oh really? Cause the way I remember it, you confessed to murder, and then were moving in to attack me.”

“I didn’t attack you. I was going to seduce you.”

“You’re out of practice, asshole. Seduction attempts work best when you don’t mention one of the women you murdered, just an FYI for future reference.” She crossed her arms over her chest, her stare glacial. If she could just stay angry she could keep the panic from consuming the last of her sanity.

She watched as Scarlett wantonly rubbed her little cat body against his sculpted chest, and for one crazy second, she imagined it was her.

“I do apologize. I’m hungry and moody. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

Anna goggled at him. Did he really believe apologizing made it all better? What century was this relic from?

“I offered you a chance to leave,” he said reasonably.

Of course, he’d believe he was being magnanimous. She was sure he felt that by staying in the house she’d given him express permission to do whatever he wanted with her. She shivered at the thought of what that could mean, as well as her shrinking revulsion over the idea.

She wiped those thoughts away. “No. Writing on my bathroom mirror with your finger like somebody just out of haunting school is not offering me the chance to leave. You could have just talked to me.”

“I’m talking to you now.”

“Fine. We’ve talked.” She crossed the room and picked a protesting Scarlett up off his lap, unable to watch the disturbing display any longer, then moved to the chair farthest from him.

“I’m Luc,” he said.

“That’s nice. I’m Anna. Get the fuck out of my house.”

He observed her quietly for a few moments, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “You have quite a dirty little mouth, which I’m sure we can put to better use later.”

Anna flushed as Scarlett clawed down the sides of her arms, making blood well up. She shoved the cat onto the floor, and Scarlett scrambled back over to Luc, primly resettling herself on his lap. She meowed up at him, giving permission for him to continue his ministrations. He laughed but went back to petting her.

“Traitor,” Anna said. She turned her attention back to the demon on her couch. “First of all, unless you intend to force me, my dirty little mouth isn’t going to be put to any better use you could think of. And secondly, you can and you will leave. Or I’ll make you leave.” She was feeling doubtful about her abilities in that department, but once her mouth started running she had a hard time stopping it sometimes. This time it might get her killed.

His eyes hardened as they met hers, and he smiled, seemingly satisfied when she shrank under the power of his stare. “I won’t force you. I can’t feed unless you are more-or-less willing. But I’m not worried. You’ll eventually succumb to my charms like everyone else.”

Anna snorted, unable to believe this fossil.

Luc glared. “I hope you are successful. I would love to leave this house.”

His pronouncement shook her out of her conflicted emotions. “You can’t leave?” She hadn’t considered he might not want to be here.

He drew a hand to his chest in mock shock, the portrait of a true southern belle, had he been female and in a big froufy dress. “You’ve decided to graciously give me the floor so I can explain my predicament?”

“Yes, speak! Get it out so I can go back to sleep.”

“Very well. I’ve been trapped in this house for over fifty years. I was old enough to know better, but I fell for a woman I was feeding from. Beatrice, as you may have guessed.” He spoke the name as if the word tasted rancid in his mouth. “She was upset I was feeding from others, because to you humans, that’s cheating. I offered a way for us to be together forever where I would feed only from her, but she wouldn’t have it.”

Anna raised an eyebrow. “What was the way?”

Luc suddenly became interested in the upholstery. His response came out muffled. “She had to give me her immortal soul.”

“Oh, well I can’t imagine why she’d turn you down.” She got up to go to the kitchen. She’d had about all of the happy demon nostalgia she could take just then.

“Where do you think you’re going? I’m not finished.” Luc pushed the cat off his lap and stalked behind her.

“This sounds like a potentially long and boring story, so I’m making coffee.” She rifled through the cupboard. “And I’ve got some biscotti around here somewhere,” she said, more to herself than to him.

“I’d like a cup. With cream if you don’t mind.”

“You’re a demon. You don’t need food. I thought you ate sex.”

“I do not eat sex. I feed from sexual energy. But I find eating and drinking pleasurable. Strictly speaking, you don’t need sex for your individual survival, and yet you do it because it feels good.”

“Whatever.” She’d do anything to get him to stop referencing her and sex in the same sentence. It made her mind go places it shouldn’t, especially considering he was a killer.

“At any rate, when Beatrice would not take my offer, and I couldn’t remain faithful only to her, she cursed me.”

“She what?”

“Oh, yes. She was a witch. An evil, dirty little witch, and she cursed me. And now she’s frolicking around in Heaven because, as it turns out, you can curse a demon and never hurt your shiny little soul.”

“I sense bitterness,” Anna said.

“I could kill you right now.”

“Charming. I can’t begin to imagine why someone would curse you.” She turned away to continue the biscotti search, unwilling for him to see her fear.

He growled. “I was simply expressing that I don’t need you. You seem confident I won’t kill you now that I’ve told you I can’t fuck you unless you want me. Your safety is not as guaranteed as you’d like to think.”

Anna looked up from the cabinets. “If I die, won’t you starve?”

“Let me finish!” His eyes glowed for a brief moment, and she thought she might have pushed him too far. “She trapped me so I couldn’t cheat on her.”

“And you killed her.” Some poor woman didn’t want him to cheat, and he reacted by killing her? She was on Beatrice’s side.

“I couldn’t help it. She’d cut off all other feeding options. I didn’t mean to kill her. I just couldn’t stop. I was hungry.”

“So, if we had . . . ” Anna waved her hands frantically, unable to verbalize what could have happened between them upstairs. “ . . . you would have killed me?”