Page 2 of The Imp Act

CHAPTER TWO

NOELLE

I’ll say this for Club Cobra: It really goes all in on the snake theme. It’s entirely staffed by serpentines and nagas; the wallpaper, booths, and stools are all in a (faux) snakeskin print; and the chandeliers are shaped like fangs. It seems like it would be overkill, but the end result is actually pretty luxe. I like coming here, because it’s not too fancy, but not a dive, either. It’s a cool, middle-of-the-road place with good music, excellent drinks, and entertaining people-watching.

And right now, I have my eyes on the hottest guy I’ve seen in ages. He’s an imp; the red skin and glowing gold eyes are dead giveaways. I may be human, but when it comes to attractiveness, I don’t discriminate. He’s in a suit, though he’s long since dispensed with the tie and jacket, and his sleeves are rolled up to reveal muscular forearms, which I’m a total sucker for. His wings are expansive, I’m pretty sure, but he has them tucked neatly back at the moment. And then there’s his face: straight nose, the kind of pouty mouth most women pay for, an intriguing scar, and tousled black hair. Not to mention, the horns curling back from his temples are big and strong-looking—perfect to hold onto during a wild ride, if you get my drift.

To put it bluntly: he’s fucking hot. Totally my type.

And the perfect way to celebrate my long-awaited liberation from school.

I lean close to the bar and motion for Kaliya, my favorite bartender. One of the serpentines, she has the mass of snakes on her head coiled into a giant, writhing bun and is wearing the tiniest black dress I’ve ever seen—it’s barely more than straps.

“What’s up?” she asks, sauntering close.

I tip my head at the imp. “Any idea who that is?”

She laughs, and it trails off in a slight hiss. “Are you kidding?”

I shake my head. “Should I know him?”

She flicks her forked tongue at me. “You are unbelievable. That, my friend, is Enzo Rossetti. He’s basically Monstrocity’s most eligible bachelor. And word on the street is that his dear mommy finally dropped the hammer and gave him a deadline to find a wife.”

I blink at her, completely lost. “His mommy?”

Kaliya shakes her head affectionately. “You’re hopeless. You really need to get out more, you know? Imps are matriarchal, meaning the women set the rules. Enzo has been out in these streets for years, making the most of his bachelorhood. Breaking hearts and popping cherries, if the rumors are true. But his rich, domineering mother has evidently decreed that it’s time for him to settle down. Apparently she threatened to start interviewing potential brides if he couldn’t find one on his own.”

Fascinating.

If he’s getting married soon, then I don’t have much time to sample the goods, so to speak. I better move fast.

I stand straighter and give myself a little shimmy, fixing my dress. It’s my own design, and one of my favorites. It’s all silver fringe, and while the halter neck might suggest modesty, the open back squashes that notion as soon as I turn around.

I fluff my hair and glance at Kaliya for approval. She grins and gives me a thumbs-up, so I take a deep breath and saunter over to introduce myself to the most eligible bachelor in the city.

ENZO

In my considerable experience, Club Cobra is the best Monstrocity has to offer: the best atmosphere, the best drinks, the best-looking women. In the past month, I’ve made it a point to date as many of them as possible, just to irritate my mother. But I’ve never seen the woman walking toward me before, and she just might be the most gorgeous of all. She’s small and curvy, with long, wavy black hair and eyes that defy description. They’re not amber. I wouldn’t really call them hazel. They’re just…greenish-gold, unusual and beautiful, especially because her skin is a dusky bronze.

She strolls up to me with a sultry grin and sticks out a hand. “Noelle Wilson,” she says.

I shake her extended palm. “Enzo Rossetti. Nice to meet you. I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

“No,” she says. “I don’t get out much. Or, at least, I didn’t used to. I tend not to stay out late. But tonight is an exception. I just graduated from fashion school and I’m celebrating. Wanna help?” She shoots me a wink and I can’t help a chuckle.

“Yeah, okay,” I say, intrigued. “I’ll help. What does that entail, though?”

“Hmmm,” she says, glancing around the club as if the answers are on the wall. “Definitely some drinks. Definitely some dancing. And then who knows? I guess whatever we can think of. I’ve never had a graduation celebration before.” She raises her brows at me, a dare if ever I’ve seen one.

Well, well, not only is she beautiful, she’s bold. That’s my favorite combination.

“I had one, but it was boring. Lots of old people there and way too much cake. I don’t think I have any suggestions.”

She smiles. “Sounds like you need a redo.” She glances at the empty glass in my hand. “And a refill. Shall we start with the bar?”

Before I know it, two hours have passed. I’m not drunk, but I’m definitely feeling the alcohol. Noelle is a swirl of silver, a sparkle in the crowd that makes everyone next to her seem dull by comparison. She’s like some exotic bird, that, for reasons unknown, decided to land on me.

We’re both on the dance floor, grinding and sweating, and I pull her close to me. I speak in a low voice next to her ear, hoping she can hear me over the music. “We’ve done drinking and dancing. What should we try next?”

She wraps her arms around me and presses close. Her gingersnap aroma envelops me, making my mouth water. Could she possibly taste as good as she smells?

She presses her lips to mine, answering that question. She tastes even better, like vanilla and warm sugar. She parts her lips and I let my tongue tangle with hers, wanting more of that taste. When she finally pulls back, her eyes are large and her lips are swollen.

“Wanna take me home?”

I’ve never wanted anything more.

NOELLE

Kaliya mentioned Enzo was from a wealthy family, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that he lives in a two-story penthouse in one of the fanciest buildings in Monstrocity. His place is stunning; the décor is minimal, but there are pops of art everywhere that tells me whoever designed the place has a good eye and good taste.

I stop to admire an arresting painting, an abstract with slashes of turquoise and gold. “I love this,” I say.

He comes up behind me to study the piece. At this proximity, I can smell him. His scent is minty and cool, but with an undercurrent of spice. I can’t tell if it’s cologne or his natural aroma. Either way, it’s appealing.

“I do too,” he says. “As soon as I saw it through the window of a little gallery downtown, I knew I had to buy it. I have another piece by the same artist in the dining room.”

I turn to face him. “Did you pick all the art in here?”

He looks puzzled. “Of course. Who else would have?”

I shrug. “I thought maybe you had it professionally decorated or something.”

“Ah, nope. It’s all me. I like design.”

Something about that makes me feel warm inside. He could obviously afford to have a professional come in and take care of everything. But the fact that he did it himself tells me he cares about his belongings, that he took the time to make his home feel right. I can appreciate that. I try to do the same thing with my fashion designs.

“Would you like something to drink?” he offers. “Wine? Water?”

I shake my head. “I’ve had enough. And that isn’t what I came here for.”

Heat flashes through his eyes. “Do you want to see the bedroom?”

“Lead the way.” I shoot him a grin and give him my hand.

His bedroom is as welcoming and cozy as the rest of the place. The walls are painted a soothing shade of blue, and the art in here is also calming—more abstracts in shades of navy, brown, and green. His bed is a huge teak piece that sits low to the ground.

I perch on the edge of it and stare at him, appreciating the view. “Care to show me what you got?”

He raises his brows at the challenge, but begins unbuttoning his shirt, never breaking eye contact. When it hangs open, revealing a muscular chest and the ripples of his abs, he speaks.

“Your turn.”

I shake my head. “Not fair. I’m wearing less than you.”

“Sure, cheater,” he says, but he’s still smiling. He shucks the shirt, somehow managing not to tangle it in his wings. He tosses it on the floor and for the first time, opens his wings to their impressive full span, shaking them a little.

“Ahh.” He closes his eyes and exhales with a sigh. “Feels good to stretch.”

“Can you fly?”

He opens one eye to peer at me. “Wouldn’t be much use having wings if I couldn’t.”

Interesting. I wonder if he’d take me flying someday.

He folds his wings back up, kicks off his shoes, and unbuttons his trousers. In less than a minute, he’s standing before me in nothing more than boxer briefs. Briefs with an imposing bulge in them.

“Now it’s really your turn,” he says, and I nod. I stand and unbuckle my strappy shoes, then turn so he can unzip me. I shimmy out of my dress, wearing nothing but a silver bra and thong. It took me ages to track down metallic silver lingerie, but I was determined to find a set that would match the dress.

I guess I’m finicky about matching undergarments, but hey, I’m a fashion designer. I know better than anyone that details matter.

“You really are gorgeous,” he says quietly, almost as if he didn’t mean to speak aloud.

“Thank you,” I say. I motion to his underwear. “Carry on.”

Without another word, he leans down and peels them off, kicking them next to his shoes. His bulge is revealed in all its glory, and I try not to gasp. It must be as long and thick as his forearm, and it’s as red as the rest of him.

“Good grief. I hope you have a whole gallon of lube,” I mutter.

As I gaze at his cock, trying to take in its sheer size, it waggles back and forth like a windshield wiper. I gape and look up to meet Enzo’s eyes. “Did your dick just wave at me?”

He bursts into laughter. “It likes you. It wanted to say hello. I take it you’ve never been with an imp before?”

I shake my head. “Is it…prehensile?”

“Basically. I have a lot of motor control over it. And because of that, it’s never really flaccid. It can’t be. It’s just how my species is designed, I guess.”

Holy bananas, I may have just hit the sex jackpot. “You’re saying you have a permanently hard dick that can wiggle around?”

He nods. “Pretty much.”

“Well, this is something I’ve got to experience.” I unhook my bra with a flourish and fling it across the room. My thong goes flying after it.

He waggles his dick again.

With a giggle, I fall back onto the bed. “I assume with the wings, you prefer to be on top?”

He looms over me, giving me a nice view of all his muscles. The way he’s holding himself up emphasizes the cut of his biceps and the taut muscles of his abs.

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” he says. “I can make any position work, but yeah, this is easiest on my wings. Plus, I can do this.”

Moving faster than I expected, he shoves my thighs apart and dives between them. Most of my romantic encounters start with kissing, true, but it’s usually on the lips…the ones on my face.

Not this time.

He goes straight for the juncture of my thighs, kissing and licking with gusto, making me gasp with surprise.

“Damn,” I mutter.

“Mmm, I’ve been wanting to get a taste of you all night. Now I’m going to have my fill.”

“Good. Better get things nice and juicy if you want me to accommodate that baseball bat you’ve been waving around.”

He doubles down, latching his lips around my clit and sucking until I squeal. He chuckles, which just comes out as a puff of warm air on my most sensitive parts. He slides two fingers into me, and his other hand moves to my pelvis, holding me down. Anchoring me. Adding pressure.

“Oh, fuck. There’s something you should know,” I moan.

He barely pauses, but manages to reply. “What’s that?”

My hips jump involuntarily, pressing me tighter to his probing tongue. “I’m a squirter. If you keep doing that—” I break off as a moan rolls through me. I’m starting to get incoherent, because he’s really, really good at this.

Rather than backing off, he doubles down, sucking and licking even harder. Hot pressure starts to build low in my abdomen, that curious feeling that precedes the most intense orgasms. My hips are undulating against him as I whimper.

“Fuck, that’s so good. Right there. Oh, god, please don’t stop,” I beg.

He just laughs against me, sending little vibrations all through my hot spots. The pressure inside me keeps building, ramping up and up. When it finally bursts, it’s going to take me down. All the same, I keep pressing against him, searching for… more .

Then he shifts his fingers inside me, rubbing against my G-spot, and I lose my mind. “I’m coming,” I wail as the vibrating waves rip through me, shaking my whole body with their intensity. I feel the wetness between my legs as I squirt all over him, my hips still flexing against his mouth. He doesn’t seem bothered, because he latches his lips over my clit again, sucking hard and sending more shockwaves through me.

When I’m writhing and whimpering beneath him, he finally stops and sits up, his eyes hot. He swipes a hand across his mouth, and then before I know what’s happening, he’s pushing inside me, his big dick spreading me wide.

It’s a tight fit, but not a painful one. On the contrary, the feeling of him is delicious.

He leans down as he impales me, whispering in my ear. “That was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. I need you to do it again. I need to feel you come on my cock so bad.”

I can’t even answer. He’s so thick inside me, so deep, his tip pushing against my G-spot. I’m still shuddering with aftershocks from the first orgasm, and somehow he’s making them stronger, turning them into the buildup for another one.

My entire pussy is pulsing against him, and I can feel muscles spasming in my legs as my body coils tighter, chasing the pleasure. He thrusts into me, just hard and fast enough for it to be good, without it feeling like I’m being hammered.

“Ohhh,” I moan. “Right there. Fuck, I’m gonna come again.”

At my warning, he does something with his fancy dick, twirling it inside me so it hits all the right spots and sends me over the edge. I come with a wail, and he increases his pace, grunting as he comes with me.

He collapses on top of me, breathing hard, and rather than feeling squashed, I relish the weight. It’s like he’s my anchor, the thing that keeps me from floating away on all the pleasure.

ENZO

As we lie there, recovering from some of the most epic sex that’s ever been had, Noelle runs a gentle thumb over the scar on my cheek. “How did you get this?”

I shoot her a wry grin as I shift off of her. “Got hit in the face by a guy wearing a big fucking ring.”

“What? How? Why?”

“Got in a fight with a bully when I was younger. I had ethics. He didn’t. He clocked me with the ring and got in a few kidney shots too. After that, I took up boxing. Nobody’s ever gotten one over on me again.”

“Wait, you mean Monstrocity’s imp playboy is a secret…what? Street fighter?”

I chuckle, feeling sheepish. “Not anymore. Now I only box in a ring, with a trainer. You know, to stay in shape. But yeah, I’ve maybe been in some scuffles.”

It’s her turn to laugh. “A wealthy bad boy, huh? No wonder the ladies love you.”

“Nah, I’m reformed. Now come here.” I pull her close, settling in. “Let’s get some rest. There’s just one thing, though,” I say, shooting her wink. “Because of my wings, I have to sleep on my side. And that means I’m always the big spoon.”

“Works for me.” She snuggles in, pressing her ass against my groin. I shake my head. What a little tease.

An hour later, I startle awake, burning like I’m on fire. Noelle is still blissfully passed out beside me, so I throw the covers off and stumble into the bathroom. I shut the door and flip on the light, then splash cold water on my face to try to cool down.

It doesn’t help.

What the hell is going on?

My skin is always red, so that doesn’t tell me anything in terms of this heat spike, but I’m also sweating profusely, which is weird. Imps are basically immune to heat, including fire. It takes a lot to burn us or even elevate our temperatures, so this shouldn’t be happening.

As I stare in the mirror, something catches my attention. I lean closer and then blink a few times just to be sure, but yeah, I’m seeing what I’m seeing: There are flames dancing in my eyes, obliterating my pupils.

Oh, fuck.

Suddenly this whole thing makes sense. My grandpa told me about this several times. I listened to his story over and over again. I loved it, but I never, ever thought it would apply to me. But these physical symptoms? They can only mean one thing.

I found my true mate.

Holy shit.

I never dreamed this would happen. I mean, it does, of course. My grandparents are proof of that. But it’s not super common. And to think, I found her at my favorite club, without even trying. Surely that’s a sign that we’re meant to be.

I rub my hands over my face, trying to grasp the whole situation. But it’s impossible.

I have a mate. I found her.

Finally, after about fifteen minutes, my body begins to cool down and return to normal.

When I climb back under the covers, my mind is still swirling. What does this mean, exactly? How will she feel about it? And most importantly: How does this change my entire situation?

Noelle stirs as I settle in, tucking my wings behind me. “Everything okay?” she asks, rolling toward me.

I cuddle her close and kiss her head. “Everything’s fine,” I tell her.

Assuming I can figure out how to turn a one-night stand into a wife.