Page 10

Chapter 9

Mount Those Horns of His

Jemma

I was down to the final, tiny scrap of moss green yarn when, with a little triumphant squeak, I tied off the last stitch on the zombie costume.

Okay, I did squeak a bit, didn’t I?

Stupid Satan Junior, casually bringing to attention an annoying habit I’d never noticed before.

My heart thrummed. How long would I have to wait before he showed up with whatever torment he had planned for me? I wondered just how awful it would be.

The very barest bones of my own plan had started to rattle around in my head as I’d worked. But I wondered if I’d have the wherewithal to torment him back? Would a bit of human flirtation, a bit of … titillation, even have much effect on him? And if it did, would it result in him breaking first? Was it even possible to break the Devil?

I leaned forward, balancing on the edge of the sofa, propping myself up with one hand and rummaging through my yarn for the mustard yellow that I used for zombie pustules.

The front door rattled.

I fell headfirst into my yarn basket with a squawk.

“Is this a new yoga pose?” Ezra’s amused voice wafted from the entry. “The yarnishranga?”

With a grunt, I rolled out of the yarn and lay, panting, on the satay-scented rug. Picking up a ball of beige yarn, I lobbed it at him. He watched with amusement as it fell far short of managing to hit him.

“You’re the yarnish ranga!” I snapped grumpily.

Ezra guffawed. “I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

I squinted up at him, the afternoon light bright in my eyes. “You know I love your hair, Ez. But you ratted me out to Joe!”

Ezra had the good sense to wince. “Was it bad?”

I sniffed. “No worse than usual. He was being pushy … so I pushed him. Literally. And he did this acrobatic trip over himself thing that would have looked at home in an Olympic Break-Dancing performance. I wish you’d been here to see!”

Ezra chuckled dutifully, then sobered. “I’m sorry I got him involved. But seriously, Jem, that was a buttload of text messages to leave unanswered for almost eleven in the morning.”

I groaned. “My phone was out of battery, and I couldn’t check them until I got back from?—”

I snapped my mouth shut, my throat going tight, eyes wide. Holy … I’d almost told him I’d gone to Hell that morning.

Ezra eyed me suspiciously. “Got back from where? You never leave the house the Sunday morning after a market.”

I shrugged. “I … needed some fresh air?”

He raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

“Anyway, who wants to talk about my boring, utterly stock standard Saturday night?” I said in a rush, standing and trotting over to him, poking him in the stomach. “I’m not the one who went on a hot date last night and didn’t come home until after lunch!”

Ezra tried to hold onto his stern facade. That lasted for all of a millisecond before a bashful grin split his adorably freckled face, and he pulled me into a cuddle. “I really, really like him, Jem!”

“Well, I knew that already, your tongue was tied in a knot the first time you met him! So …” I sat down, shoving my crocheting aside, and patted the seat beside me with a smirk. “Did you get any stem-in-vase action?”

He bit his lip, shaking his head and collapsing into the seat beside me. “I actually like him too much to rush into … that … but we did get a bit tongue-tied together last night … and again this morning.”

I giggled. “Oooh, I’m already picturing the wedding! Can Luci be your flower girl?” I half teased. A little niggle twinged in the pit of my stomach, but I ignored it.

Ezra deserved to find someone. Even if it took him away from me.

“She would look absolutely stunning in a little pink Cinderella gown. Handmade by you, of course!”

“And … I’ll be your best bitch, yes?” I asked.

He smiled softly down at me, pulling me back into his lanky arms. “You will always be my best bitch, Jem. Now, I need to shower, and then we need to hit the supermarket, because that fridge is not filling itself!”

The front door rattled again.

I shot to my feet, heart leaping into my throat, but Ezra was already up and striding towards the door.

Oh shit.

What if it was … him? There was no way in … in Hell that I needed to be explaining this to Ezra. I’d gotten myself into one giant pickle, and the last thing I needed was to get my best friend caught up in it, too!

“You go shower, I’ll see to that,” I babbled.

Ezra’s nose wrinkled, confused. “Don’t be ridiculous, it’s on the way to the bathroom!”

He took another step towards the front door, and another.

“Don’t answer it!” I shrieked, launching myself over my giant yarn basket with the agility of a show-jumping mare, galloping to put myself between the door and Ezra.

He pulled up just shy of running into me. “What is going on with you, Jem?” he asked, his brow knitted in concern. “You hate answering the door.”

“I … I’m, uh, expecting a delivery. You know, a surprise … for you.”

“Oh,” he said, blinking. His head turned to the small key table beside the door, and his brows rose. “Where’s the vase you bought from Humphrey?”

Shit. I’d forgotten about it breaking with everything else that had happened since he’d left for his date. “Oh, um, Luci was chasing some particularly evil roaches, and a few things might have gotten caught in the crosshairs.”

Ezra’s mouth twisted just slightly, but then he shrugged. “I’m sure he’d be happy to make another one for you. He’s …” Ezra’s smile almost split his face in two. “He’s a very … giving guy.”

I snorted to cover for the violent butterflies in my chest cavity. “Okay, off to the shower with you, you dirty boy!” I practically shoved him in the direction of the bathroom. “I’m sure my … delivery has just been left outside the door, but I can’t bring it in until you go … surprise and all that.”

Ezra rolled his eyes but did as he was told. When the bathroom door was closed firmly behind him, I turned to the front door, glaring at the handle. It hadn’t rattled again, which had to be a good sign. If it was Satan Junior out there, he’d probably be hammering the door down.

“You’re a strong, independent woman, Jemma Bliss,” I told myself firmly. “You can handle whatever that monster throws your way. Whatever is on the other side of the door, you will survive it.”

I pursed my lips, took a deep breath in, and turned the handle.

No one was there.

I looked down.

Seven overflowing bags of groceries sat in a neat line at the door.

“Joe,” I muttered, grabbing two and moving them to the bench, then returning for a few more trips until they were all inside. Fresh fruit and veggies, tubs of yoghurt, cheese, eggs, a few boxes of protein bars, long-life milk, and a dozen frozen microwave meals, plus a bunch of other staples for our pantry and fridge.

My brother could be callous and unkind, and he was very disapproving of my life choices, as if they reflected poorly upon him personally. But he sometimes showed that he cared … in his own high-handed way. Although it was probably more likely that he just liked to rub it in that he could afford to have groceries delivered, and it was my own lack of ‘drive’ that meant I had to slum it with the plebs at the local Coles.

I set to packing the items into the fridge, humming vacantly to myself. At least I could back up my lie to Ezra—‘ Surprise! We don’t have to go to the supermarket because the groceries came to us!’

I managed a half-hearted chuckle at that, tugging at the neck of my crop top. How was it suddenly hot in here, even with the fridge door open?

“What, no donuts? I’m disappointed.”

I squeaked, the fridge door swinging wildly as I spun. It hit the wall and ricocheted back, smacking me in the left breast.

“Hello, Mouse.”

He—Satan Junior—was smirking from one of my bar stools, looking for all the world as if he popped in for a Sunday afternoon chat every week. He wasn’t in the monster form he’d shown me earlier. No, it was the hot, muscular Draco Malfoy impersonator smirking at me, his eyes an odd, almost reflective shade of slate grey. He was dressed in that same dark button-up shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows. The dusting of pale gold hair on those arms glimmered in the afternoon light.

“What are you doing here?” I hissed, thoughtlessly rubbing at my poor abused boob. His eyes dropped to follow the movement, his mouth going slack. The grey in his eyes darkened to charcoal.

Shag your way out of it, Jem.

I wasn’t sure the silly idea I’d had earlier would work … but there was no harm in testing the waters to see if maybe I could distract him from my soul … with my body.

Biting my lip, I let my boob rub turn into more of a caress. I cupped the weight of it in my palm. What a fortunate oversight I’d made that morning when I shoved my T-shirt on without bothering with a bra. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, a stain of pink blooming over his cheeks.

Yes! It was working!

I squeezed myself, watching him from under my lashes. His eyes were glued to my chest. I let my thumb graze over my nipple. It puckered under my touch, sending tingles down through my belly and between my legs.

A tiny, involuntary groan slipped past his lips. He tried to cover it up with a cough, shifting on the bar stool, but he was fooling literally no one.

Okay, I could work with this.

I dropped my hand to my hip and glared at him. He was, after all, still my enemy. An enemy who seemed to have a particular fondness for my human body. And if I wanted this plan to work, I’d need to make him crazy for me, with teeny, tiny tastes, and then BANG! Denying him any further gratification.

“Did you come here to extract a repayment from me? Or did you just want to ogle my boobs?” I asked sharply. I almost giggled when he flinched, his eyes snapping away from my chest with the guilty wince of a man caught in the act.

Except he wasn’t a man. He was the Devil. Well, the son of the Devil.

“If you’re here on FiendPay business, can we please hurry up and get the torture over so you can scurry back to the Hellhole you crawled out of?”

He leaned back, his jaw tight. His eyes fixed somewhere over my head. I smirked. Had I really thrown him that off balance with nothing more than a teeny little boob squeeze?

I sobered. What if he decided to make my punishment worse for making him feel lustful towards me? Maybe I should ease off until I had a bit of an idea of what he planned for this first ‘payment’. Test the waters of how bad this whole experience might be for me before I set about potentially making it worse.

He tugged an apple out of one of the grocery bags and turned it in his hand, staring at it with far more interest than it deserved. “Why do you visit the healing centre every week?” he asked suddenly.

Well. Whatever I’d been expecting him to say, that was not it.

“The-the hospital?” I asked, stunned. He nodded, polishing the apple against his charcoal shirt.

“I …” I honestly had no idea what to say. It was none of his business, really … except for the fact that he owned a part of my soul and would own the remainder unless I played my cards right.

“I visit sick kids.” There. That was an honest answer.

His eyes found mine, that stormy grey searching. I couldn’t hold the intensity of his gaze, so I spun back to the fridge, wrenching the door open and randomly moving items to different shelves in an effort to seem busy.

“Are the visits some form of penance? What do you humans call it? Community servitude?” He sounded truly intrigued, and words started bubbling out of me.

“Community service,” I corrected, staring at the lid of a tub of yoghurt without taking in a single detail about it. “And no … well, it is a service, I suppose. But it’s voluntary. I … do arts and crafts with some girls who are in hospital for extended stays.”

“What is wrong with the younglings?” he pressed, pinching the apple stalk and twisting it away from the fruit. “Are they dying?”

I swallowed. “I really hope not,” I muttered before my brain could catch up with my mouth. And then it did. And I rounded on him, eyes narrowed. “Why do you ask?”

He bit into the apple, his eyes an unreadable silvery grey.

“I’m merely curious,” he replied around a mouthful. A trickle of apple juice ran from the corner of his mouth down to his chin. I watched it, mesmerised. Then I shook myself.

Stupid, handsome devil, distracting me with his juicy chin!

“Don’t you get any ideas about those girls!” I hissed, stepping closer and snatching the apple from him. “I know you think you can do whatever you like to me until I earn that little bit of soul back from you, but they are off-limits!”

Satan Junior raised an eyebrow, his lips turning down. “What sort of creep do you think I am?” he asked in a wounded tone.

Oooh, he was a very good actor!

“I’m pretty sure you’re Prince Creep—well on your way to becoming King Creep!” I snapped, folding my arms over my chest. “You and Satan Senior probably get your rocks off on meddling with the lives of little kids!”

His expression darkened, and he opened his mouth as if to argue, but I cut him off.

“Those girls are really sick, Satan Junior! They’re being pumped full of all sorts of poisons to try and kill off the cancer in their little bodies. They haven’t been out of the hospital for months, and I can’t take Luci-Fur to visit them, even though they’re begging, because she might compromise?—”

I shoved what was left of the apple into my mouth, taking a monster bite. What sort of verbal vomit was that? The last thing I wanted was to give him details about the girls! What on earth had possessed me?

I glared at him suspiciously. That shell-shocked look on his face was all for show, I was certain. “Did you just possess me? Are you trying to get me to give you ammunition for your little game with my soul? Is that what this visit is all about?”

He blinked as if he hadn’t heard me. “They want a visit from Lucifer?” His voice was thin.

And I realised his confusion. “Not Lucifer—although I’m sure you’re on brilliant terms with him … are you him? Actually, don’t answer that, I have no interest in your family history. No, I meant my ferret, Luci- Fur .”

As if on cue, her frantic, excited dooking echoed from the laundry room.

“You named your ferret after?—”

“Shoosh!” I hissed, not bothering to check whether he complied. I raced out of the kitchen and across the hall.

“What the Hell?” I gasped, my hand flying to my heart.

Three sets of beady ferret eyes turned to me in eerie unison. Luci’s pink ones, from inside her cage, and two sets of black ones, belonging to two jet black ferrets. They were standing on my washing machine, looking guilty.

I’d never seen a ferret look guilty before. And there was an odd, reddish ring around the edges of their eyes.

“Ah,” his deep, posh voice rumbled in my ear, startling me enough that I staggered back a step and collided with his rock-solid chest. “It seems my wayward Hounds have made a new friend.”

I turned, bumping my nose against his sternum. Solid … and tall … and he smelled of … campfire and cloves.

“Hounds? Those aren’t hounds! They’re … malevolent mustelids!” I snapped, taking a step backwards.

“They’re shapeshifters,” he explained, an amused gleam lighting his eyes. “But their true form is the Hound form that you saw when you visited me earlier.”

“When I visited you …” I snorted. “When you sucked me into your magic hole, more like it!”

Satan Junior cleared his throat, those two spots of pink appearing on his cheekbones again.

Luci chirped madly, scratching at the door of her cage and distracting me from the Devil’s odd reaction. She loved ferret play dates, and it seemed she assumed that was what was happening here.

No bloody way.

“Get them out of here!” I demanded, poking him in the chest. “And while you’re at it, get yourself out of here, too! You can’t just barge into my home whenever you like, asking me personal questions and letting your filthy pets come along for the ride!”

“Hey! Who you calling filthy? I’m not the one here shouting about ‘sucking’ and ‘holes’!” a tiny voice hissed. My jaw dropped.

“Did that … that one just speak?” I yelped, pointing at the one with a tiny white spot on the side of its little ferrety snout.

Satan Junior’s brow furrowed. “You knew they could speak. You heard them in my chambers this morning.”

I met his gaze. Gosh, his jaw was so sharp. I wondered, if I touched him there, would I feel stubble? Could devils even grow a beard? Maybe just that evil pointy goatee style?

My fingers itched to explore the theory. Stubbly, or smooth under those carved lines of his masculine jaw …

Nope! I could not wonder these sorts of things about the son of the Devil!

“Yes, but this morning still feels like a bad dream to me,” I argued, gesturing towards the ferrets without taking my eyes off him. “This feels very real. We’re standing in my laundry room, for crying out loud!”

A tiny smile tickled his mouth, his eyes sparkling wickedly. “And what a delightful room it is.”

He probably had demon wenches who laundered his clothes for him. Cleaned his rooms … serviced him …

“Right!” I snapped. My mind was wandering to some very odd places, and having him and his larger-than-life presence in my space wasn’t helping. Him and his smooth, deep, posh voice. And those sinful eyes …

“If you have a repayment you want me to make, tell me now, and then get out. And take your shifty little shifters with you!”

“Jem!” Ezra called, the bathroom door creaking open. “Who’re you talking to? I’m not dressed for company right now!”

Shit. I’d practically forgotten he was even here, what with dealing with the Son of Satan and his wayward weasels.

“No one!” I called out, giving Satan Junior a warning glare and racing off into the hallway to distract Ezra. “Just … talking to Luci.”

“I could have sworn I heard a man’s voice,” Ezra said, poking his head out of the bathroom. Steam billowed out around him, and a matching flash of heat blasted from behind me.

“I was … uh … just trying out a new training technique. Apparently ferrets respond well to a deep voice, so I was … um … testing that theory.”

Ezra snorted, rubbing his damp hair with a towel. “I could have disproved that for you. Luci refuses to listen to a single thing I say.”

With that he turned back into the bathroom, closing the door. I hurried back down the hall. The apartment was empty. He’d gone back to Hell. Well, good riddance. The hide of him, just showing up, staring at my boobs, eating my fruit, letting his minions annoy my ferret, and not even once mentioning the business of my soul!

Luci let out a very loud whimper. I quickly extracted her from her cage, giving her a hug. Ferrets could be such precious little critters, and in her mind, she’d just been denied a super fun play date.

“Sorry, Lulu. They’re not really ferrets, though. They’re wicked little fiends in cosplay.”

Luci glared at me balefully, completely unconvinced.

“If he tries to do anything to my girls, I’ll turn his hide into a new rug to replace the fragrant Thai one,” I grumbled, nuzzling Luci and fishing a treat out for her to nibble on. “And I’ll mount those horns of his!”