Page 31

Deal with a Demoness

Barely gasping for air, he watched as she came next in all her glory, her wings spasming with her own orgasm, wringing out the last of him int o herself.

Again, he could feel his heartbeat fading, the cold oblivion beckoning. Then she curled forward, dropping once more onto his chest. With the full contact of her skin on his, the warmth flushed back into him. He took in a sharp full breath as life filled him, even more than what he had given her first.

The urge to tell her to stop, to not give back what she had rightly taken from him, died before it could reach his lips. He had no real strength to stop her. All he could do was wrap his arms around and hold the snuggling female close. They were still connected, but he felt himself deplete inside her. She would just have to shift a little bit for him to fall out.

Her being shifted, and the eerie, unearthly form disappeared until he held a mortal woman once again. She cuddled into his chest, her eyes closed, a contented smile on her face.

“I love you,” she whispered sleepily. And then there were a few soft litt le snores.

Rafferty stayed that way, holding her, for ages as he stared up at the dark ceiling above them. He had no idea how he felt, but he knew that sleep was too far away. As time ticked by, his legs, which were still off the bed, complained and ached. Her weight made it harder to breathe, and he grew irritated.

Finally, he shifted, arresting her tiny snores with a lou der snort.

“I can’t…” he attempted to explain, but she just sleepily lifted her head and took in the situation.

“Oh, sorry,” she murmured, then disembarked from him, shifting to the side so he cou ld sit up.

In that position, he kicked off the pants that were trapping his ankles while she crawled around to lie on her side of her bed, burrowing under her covers still naked. Feeling like it was required, he did the same, crawling under her quilt with her. As soon as he was in place, she slid up closer, already most of the way back to sleep, and settled into the nook of his shoulder.

“Thank you,” she muttered.

“For what?” he asked, whispering the words into the dark.

“For giving me so much…”

He could sense her slipping away, slipping into sleep. “I want something,” he said, jerking his shoulder to keep her from leaving him for h er dreams.

“Yes?” she asked.

Licking his lips, his eyes searched the ceiling above for answers in its shadows. “I want a contract with Scarlet. Scarlet Promotions, I mean. If I’m going to be your champion in this competition, I want it in writing. Everything spe lled out.”

“Oh, yeah. Okay,” she agreed so easily it felt lik e a cheat.

“And money, too. A g uarantee.”

“Mm-hmm.”

He nodded then. It was only right. He was giving her so much of himself; it was the way of things, and he needed to get something back in return. It just felt more comfortable to have an agreement. This was how these things worked wi th demons.

“I have every right to demand this,” he said out loud, but Helena didn’t answer. Her breathing had already slipped into an even rhythm. “I have every right,” he repeated, hugging h er closer.

Yet, even in a better position, he still stared up at the ceiling, unsure what to do or say, wondering if sleep planned on comi ng at all.

In the morning, Rafferty woke in the bed alone. His head ached, and it only got worse when he opened his eyes. The edges of Helena’s blackout curtain glowed brightly, indicating a bright, sunny day outside, and he hated i t already.

He thought about rolling over and trying to find some more sleep to sweep away his headache, but a weight settled on the bed beside him, settling in the space left by the crook of his body.

“Good morning, sweetie,” Helena’s voice sang out softly as she brushed her fingers over his forehead, clearing his hair from his eyes.

The involuntary groan did not deter her as he turned his head away from her touch, the headache spik ing again.

“Is everything okay?” she as ked again.

“I feel hungover,” he muttered.

“Ohhhh,” she cooed, leaning in to kiss him on his temple. Immediately, the headache eased away. “I’m sorry. That’s my fault, I think.” Then she bounced back up to her feet. “Get dressed. Charlie’s started breakfast. We’ve got a big day.”

“What?” he tried to ask, but she was alr eady gone.

Dragging himself out of bed, he wondered at his own reluctance. A night of passion should have invigorated him, and the news of someone else cooking should have alarmed him, but instead, his heart felt heavy, like it had been replaced wit h a stone.

“Is that my phone ringing?” Charlie asked, leaning against the counter in the kitchen, a piece of toast hanging from his mouth.

“It’s there on the counter,” Cindy said, gesturing at it with her head while she poured herself a hot cup of coffee.

Rafferty checked the underside of the eggs he had just flipped over easily, having taken over the cooking duties so Charlie could finish getting dressed for the day. He then picked up the whole pan and brought it to the four plates waiting for him beside the stove. With quick work of his spatula, he had the whole pan of eight eggs distributed to t he plates.

“Hello?” Charlie said into his phone as he placed it between his shoulder and his ear while he attempted to adjust his tie. Somehow, he had tied it so the thinner end was longer than the thicker.His fingers tried to fix it, but he was making such a mess of it, though, that Cindy set down her coffee and took over.

“Yes, I’ll be there in a half an hour. No, I haven’t left yet, it’ll take me less time… because I’m not staying at home at the moment, so I’m closer to the office… I’m sorry, but who works for who here? That’s none of your business, just focus on my business, and I’ll be there in a half an hour!” he said sternly. Then in the same stern yet sincere voice, he continued. “Thank you. I really appreciate you. Your work is valuable to me. Bye.” He hung up with a press of his screen and lowered the phone. “I have no intention of being there for very long. I’m just going to go in and set things up so I can take the next week off because, seriously, I just can’t with everything going on and stuff. I swear I’m just losing my mind, but if I don’t set things up the whole thing may burn down before I can get back and are you done yet with that tie, o h my God!”

Cindy bopped him on the nose. “Yes, if you would just hold still and take a breath every other sentence, I would be finished—” Another yank and she had the tie straight, the ends measured perfectly.

Charlie turned away abruptly, seizing control of his tie back. “Oh it’s fine, I…” Then he stopped and forced a breath in. “Thank you. I appreciate you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I am not being my best r ight now.”

“It’s not required,” Helena said, coming in as well. She then laid her hand on his shoulder. The tension in the other man immediately deflated.

Cindy didn’t seem to notice what just happened, and the bliss washing over Charlie’s face made Rafferty’s spine shiver. He covered his discomfort by pulling bacon out of the oven.

Helena smiled, satisfied, as she patted Charlie’s shoulder and then moved to grab a stool next to her other friend. “I just hope the guest room was okay for you both?”

“Well, I’ve never slept better. It’s like that trip to Mardi Gras all over again,” Cindy said, grinning as she reclaimed her c offee cup.

“And I’m so sorry about this drama just showing up on your doorstep again,” Charlie repeated for the hundredth time as he accepted the plate of breakfast from Rafferty.

“No, please, me casa, su casa, yadda yadda yadda,” Helena said as she took her own plate, giving Rafferty a kiss on the cheek. She then led them all into the dining room. “And I have to go into the office, too. Scarlet sent me an email asking me to come in.”

“So you still work for her?” Cindy asked, holding the door for Rafferty as he followed with his own plate. It felt strange to belong with this group of tight-knit friends, but they were treating him as if he had always belonged.

But all of them would not speak to me if I were to leave tomorrow. They are not my friends, he thought bitterly to himself. Somehow that made him feel even m ore alone.

Guilt washed over him, too.

She was winning the game. And he resented h er for it.

They talked around him as they all ate at the table while he took slow, methodical bites of his food.

“You know that Cooking Underground thing that I told you about?” Helena asked as she sat down at the head of the table.

“Vaguely, but to be fair I’ve been a little distracted. I’m just glad you still have a job right now. It sounded like you were losing it,” Charlie said as he went behind her to sit on the bench side, letting Rafferty and Cindy have the two easier-to-access seats. Then his watch went off. “And I’m going to be late, so that’s it for me, good-bye. Tell me all about it later!”

Rafferty was at least grateful that Charlie cleared the remaining contents of his plate into his mouth before he grabbed his suitcase and went out the door.

Cindy finished her breakfast and gathered up the extra plate to take to the kitchen. “I’m going to be heading out as well. I’m meeting up with my supervisor. I mean, my former supervisor. We’re going to ha ve lunch.”

“That sounds like a great idea,” Helena added, taking up Rafferty’s finished plate as well, following her friend into the kitchen, ignoring him entirely.

Rafferty sat there with his hands in his lap. Then a peculiar itch slipped into them. Pulling out his phone before he realized he was going to, he stared at the black screen. Then got up to go to where his coat hung by the front door to retrieve Eleanor’s busi ness card.

Typing the number in, he hit the call button before he could stop himself and ove rthink it.

His hand shook as it rang. Maybe he should have waited. At least have Helena sit here with him, guide him through this. When did I become so dependent on her? Is it even right for me to rely on her like this? Shouldn’t I just be brave and—

“Hello,” Eleanor answered.

A thrill of excitement slipped through him at the sound of her voice. “Hello. This is Rafferty,” he said, a hint of his old, charming self flowing into his words. It was the voice he used in seductions, but Eleanor bulldozed right over it completely u naffected.

“I’m not available to take your call right now but leave me a message and I’ll get you back when I’ve got a minute. Thanks.” Then there was a beep. It took another half second for him to realize this was the time for him to speak.

“Uh, hi. It’s Rafferty,” he answered, his words coming out now in sharp detached sentences. “I’m calling you.” Another long pause, his brain working so fast and coming up with nothing mo re to say.

So h e hung up.

“What am I doing?” he asked the phone, but it offered n o comment.

Just then Helena returned, dressed in a slate-gray women’s suit with a skirt that went to her knees. She was flipping her hair up into a quick, professional bun. It was hypnotic to watch. And she smiled as beautifully a s the sun.

I love her, he thought as he drank it in. He knew it and felt it burn in his heart. So, what am I doing callin g Eleanor?

“I’ll call when I’m on my way home. I love you,” she said so easily and casually, as if such a declaration was no big deal. Leaning in, she gave him a kiss good-bye. “Are you going to be okay here while I’m gone?”

“Yes, of course,” he said. “I have plenty of Food Network to watch.”

She smiled but she couldn’t hide her worried look. “I’m doing this for you, too. You know that, right? I know I’ve been leaving you alone a lot lately, but soon, you’ll be more involved as we finish getting things set up. I’ve got meetings with a production company today, and I think they’re really keen on working with us.”

“Doesn’t that seem… rather fast for this sort of thing?” Raffe rty asked.

Helena cocked her head at him curiously. “Do you know much about broa dcasting?”

He shrugged. “I cooked for a TV executive once. He liked to talk while he ate. I did not understand much of what he said, but I am a very good listener.”

A wary look passed over Helena’s face, though he had no idea what he could have said to inspire it. Then she asked, “What happene d to him?”

It was like she had punched him in the chest.

“He died,” Rafferty sa id simply.

A tension stretched between them, then Helena shook her head, banishing the expression from her face. “No, let’s not do that. Let’s not spoil a good morning. I’ll see you later,” she said, grabbing her coat.

He felt the urge to go to her, to hug and kiss her one more time, but he didn’t, and she didn’t look to him for one. His stomach felt sick, and the overwhelming urge to bake something tickled at hi s fingers.

I’m not the man she thought I was. And she realizes it now. It’s only a matter of time, his darker voice said in his mind, the one that had been with him in Hell keeping him existing.

Before he could turn to the refuge that was the kitchen, however, or pick up the remote control to lose himself in other people’s cooking, his own phone rang. Glancing at the screen, a fresh hitch in his chest caught him

“Hello, Eleanor.”