Читать книгу Hotter Than Hell - Jackie Kessler - Страница 10

“I’m dead.”

Bloody Hell. For the umpteenth time, I said, “I know.”

“I’m dead.”

“I still know.”

“I’m dead.”

My client was also a buzzkill, so I ordered another shot of Jager. On the other side of the ebony bar, Randolph acknowledged my request and made with the pouring. I didn’t know why a nonmagical human mixed drinks at the most popular interplaneary pub this side of the Astral Plane, and I didn’t care. So what if he always wore an expression of wide-eyed terror and his mouth was set in a frozen scream? As long as he didn’t spill the booze when he poured, Randolph was all right in my book.

And he was eye candy, in an androgynous, Goth kind of way. Me, I’ll always prefer the ladies. But in my line of work, the lads are also fair game. I’m an equal-opportunity sort of Seducer. I’ll happily flirt with any mortal, especially one who looked like Randolph. His mop of black hair was set off by ghostly skin, which was slightly marred by a prominent blue vein snaking over his nose. His face was delicate-jawed and clean-shaven; his body was slender, yet it managed to fill out his black T-shirt with the Voodoo Café logo emblazoned on its front. Attractive. And so damn young, practically overflowing with potential.

I could suck him dry in a New York minute. I bet he’d taste like saltwater taffy.

Maybe he saw something in my gaze, something in the curve of my lips as I watched him, because his eyes widened until a ring of white surrounded the chocolate brown of his irises, and a tic danced along his jaw. I caught the scent of his fear—tangy, like grapefruits—before it wafted away, blending with the other bar-heavy smells of cigars, booze and sweat. And brimstone, of course. Where there be demons, there be the stench of rotten eggs.

I grinned big, let my teeth slip into fangs as I inhaled the fading odor of Randolph’s terror. Mmm.

Swallowing audibly, he slid the full cup over to me, the glass making that distinct wet scrape against the countertop, the sound of an object rubbing suggestively against another. Ah, how I loved friction. “Six dollars,” he said, his voice pleasantly deep and cracking on the last word.

I softened my grin into a winning smile as I pulled out my wallet and produced an American ten-dollar bill. “For you,” I said, offering him the money with a flick of my fingers. “Keep the change.”

As he took the ten, I scraped the nail of my middle finger against the meat of his palm and pushed. Just a whisper of power, a hint of lust. Sweat popped on his brow as a wave of desire broke over him, flushing his face and glazing his eyes.

Heh.

I don’t shit where I eat, so I let him go. Besides, he wasn’t a client, and I wasn’t allowed to tempt him. The rules are damn clear on who’s a target and who’s not. Randolph literally served evil. As long as he worked at the Voodoo Café, he was off limits.

Randolph blinked twice, then flashed me a nervous grin before he scuttled off to the far end of the bar to wait on other patrons. Swim away, little fishie. Swim away.

I grabbed the drink and knocked it back, relishing how the back of my throat caught fire. Just knowing that Randolph would be mine if I ever really wanted him was enough to satisfy me. For now. Already I felt the fire rekindling inside of me, a slow honing of my senses to better experience desire whether through smell or sight or sound, a whetting of sexual appetite that heated my blood and stirred my cock.

Mortal men say they always think about sex. Hah. They should be in my pants for one night. A perpetual state of horniness goes with the demonic package.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I’m dead.”

My good mood evaporated, and my fangs shrank back to human teeth as I snorted my frustration. The damned sure as Hell were self-centered. Didn’t my client know she’d have the better part of eternity to mull over her fate?

I glanced over my shoulder to see her hovering just behind me, her soul a thing of pulsing blacks and reds, like a charbroiled heart seeping blood. Her weakness for sex and violence stained her spirit, highlighted how her internal berserker and seducer warred for dominance over her immortal soul. Very nice.

“I’m dead.”

“Tell me something I don’t know, doll.” A serial killer was always a toss-up between Lust and Wrath—desire for slaughter is still desire, but the rage that fuels murder scores for the Berserkers. My client’s ultimate punishment would be determined by which aspect of evil weighed the heaviest in her core. If I was a betting sort of entity, I would have laid odds on Lust. But that judgment wouldn’t happen until after I brought her to Hell—and I’d be blessed if I was going there any time soon. I’d just slaughtered a nefarious and a human (granted, wearing the same body) without a permit. I was seriously fucked, and not in the way we incubi prefer. The heaps of paperwork that I’d have to fill out…Just thinking about it made my eyeballs throb.

I pressed my fingers against the bridge of my nose and closed my eyes, but that did nothing to kill my headache. Fucking red tape was going to tie me up for a human’s age. Maybe I couldn’t escape it, but I sure as Hell could delay it. At the very least, I was going to get plastered before I ventured down Below. And based on the way my metabolism burned off alcohol, I’d be holed up at the bar for at least three weeks before I had anything close to a steady buzz.

“I’m dead.”

Then again, three weeks of incessant whining from my client might feel more like an eternity than it would filling out miles of Wrongful Termination forms.

A scent of lilacs tinged with winter frost, just before delicate fingers brushed over my shoulder. A feminine voice asked, “Why so glum?”

I opened my eyes and turned to see a stunning blonde smiling at me like a televangelist eager to get with the hallelujahs. Mmm. Look at her, with hair so golden that Rumpelstiltskin would have creamed his leggings—eyes so blue, the Almighty must have had that color in mind when He painted the sky. Porcelain skin, and a lean body wrapped in a white evening dress that emphasized the swells of her breasts.

Helloooo, sexy.

Her smile was good; it would have been terrific if not for the slight tremble in her full lips. She was nervous. And based on the stink of chilly goodness that wafted around her, I understood why. I peered through her mortal costume and grinned as I recognized her true form. For a moment, I wondered who’d told her about the Voodoo Café; her kind didn’t deign to mingle with creatures of clay or coal. But what the Hell—she was here, apparently looking for action. And I was pretty sure she didn’t recognize me for who I really was.

Excellent. Just what I needed: a little fun to cheer me up.

“My client’s a bummer,” I said, flashing a disarming smile at my new companion. A slit ran down the right side of her dress, starting just beneath her hip and extending all the way down, teasing me with a glimpse of pale thigh. I wondered if she’d squeeze those thighs around me as I pounded her, or if she’d spread them wide as I dove into her secret waters. “All she can think about is her new antilife status. It’s getting me down.”

As if on cue, my client chimed in: “I’m dead.”

The blonde’s slender fingers pressed down on my shoulder, working the muscle. She was getting bolder. Nice. She said, “Your client seems to be in denial.”

“Yup.”

“Why haven’t you brought her to the Abyss?”

“I’m extending the torture.”

Her fingers paused, then continued their dance over the black material of my shirt. “How thoughtful.”

“I’m a caring sort of demon. So what are you doing here, sweetness?” I ate her with my eyes, relishing how my heated gaze brought a blush to her cheeks. “Don’t you have mortals to tempt?”

“I’d rather be here, with you.”

Heh. That wasn’t quite a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth. Working for the Pit has been rubbing off on her. I arched a brow. “Really. And what would you rather be doing with me?”

Her smile faltered. After a pause, an idea lit her eyes. Her voice low and laden with meaning, she said, “Maybe you could buy me a drink, and we could talk about that.”

“A drink?” A chuckle burst out of my mouth. Couldn’t help it; she was like something out of A Beginner’s Guide to Seduction, without the obligatory illustrations. “Talk about what we could do? You’re acting like I’m one of your marks. And a stupid one, at that. What am I, sweetness—target practice for your turn with the flesh puppets?”

My laughter obliterated her smile. She straightened her spine and looked down at me, dispassionate. Cold. Her kind always masked their discomfort with disdain. Frigid bitches, the lot of them. She sniffed, this cute little sound of derision. “I’ve been told that practice makes perfect.”

“Good advice.” Still chuckling, I reached over and encircled her waist in my hands, then pulled her onto my lap.

“What are you—”

“Like you said, sweetness, practice makes perfect.” She gasped as I rubbed my crotch against hers. “Time to practice.”

She spluttered, “We’re in public.”

Damn, she was adorable when she was flustered. “I’m sorry, I thought you were a Seducer. My mistake.”

“No, I am…” She took a shaky breath. “I am a Seducer.”

“You sure? You’re acting prissy enough to be one of the Arrogant.”

“I’m dead.”

Fuck me raw. I glared at my client and snarled, “You: shut up.”

She shut up.

“Much better.” I turned my attention back to the blonde, who tensed as I cupped her ass. My voice a purr, I said, “You’re so anxious, sweetness. You’d think you haven’t flirted with anyone before.”

Her cheeks flamed. “That’s not true…”

I nuzzled my face between her breasts, took in her odor of flowers and spice—no perfume here, no false scent covering her core. This was all her. “You’d think,” I said, kissing the curve of her left mound, “you’d never been touched before.”

“I…”

My mouth found her nipple, which was tenting the white silk of her dress. She let out a startled squeak when I kissed it, sounding like a mouse cornered by a tomcat.

Boom boom.

I trailed my tongue over the nub, teasing it with my lips and teeth until she groaned—a full-throated sound, caught between a whimper and a growl. Mmm. I sucked her nipple, and with a cry she leaned back, pushing her flesh against my face, begging me with her body to do more. I squeezed her bottom, then ran my fingers up over her back, her neck, her ear. As she quivered against me, I kissed my way up the swell of her breast, her throat, then slowly licked the line of her jaw.

She was moaning now, her hips dancing in circles over my groin. Going with the moment. Losing herself. Sweet. I nipped her earlobe, then lapped away the sting with my tongue. My fingers left her ear to trail along her neck, her collarbone, then dipped lower to brush over the swells of her breasts just as I kissed the hollow of her throat.

A sudden burst of peppermint overrode the stink of lilacs, and I knew I had her.

Heh.

I whispered in her ear, “You’d think you were an angel pretending to be a succubus.”

She froze.

“And based on how you’re reacting, you’d think you’ve never been fucked. Angels don’t fuck, do they?”

Her quick intake of breath told me my words had touched a nerve. Or maybe that was from me fondling her.

“So what are you, sweetness? An angel playing the part? Or a succubus looking to score? Is your snatch holy, or hungry?” I thrusted against her, dry humping, my rod nearly bursting out of my pants. I’d been told that cherubs taste like gold. I wondered whether her molten gold would rush down my throat, or if I’d have to coax it out of her. Tease her. Tempt it out of her.

“I’m a Seducer,” she stammered. “As the King of Hell decreed.”

“Right, the King.” I kissed her neck, relishing how she squirmed in my lap—she was turned on, on, on, and she was so very afraid. Positively intoxicating. “Brilliant move, replacing all the succubi with one-time angels. Like you could do anything better than a real succubus.”

She tried to wiggle out of my embrace, but I locked my arms around her waist. I said, “Of course, fucking something as holy as you would probably freeze my dick off.”

“You can’t speak to me that way,” she said, shooting me with a glare that was supposed to remind me she had once walked close to God. As if I cared.

“I can do whatever I want to you, Feathers.” I allowed my true form to radiate through my mortal shell for a moment—but that moment was all it took. Her eyes widened as she glimpsed my horns, my eyes, my fangs. The real me. “I’m a first-level incubus. And you’re just a fallen angel with her legs locked at her knees.”

“My lord Daunuan. I…” She took a deep breath, then smoothed her features until she wore a mask of perfect coldness. “I didn’t recognize you, my lord.”

“Never would have guessed. You need to work on your acting, Feathers. Not to mention your pickup lines.”

She sniffed again, a tiny sound brimming with contempt. Impressive. She said, “Don’t call me that.”

“No? Why not?”

“Because it insults me.”

“Aw, poor little cherub. I’ve singed your tail feathers.” I massaged her bottom, squeezing her cheeks, enjoying how firm she was in my hands and how she acted like I’d just stuck a hot poker up her ass. “I’ll rub it and make it feel better.”

Her face could have been chiseled from ice, except for her eyes—they flashed a heat that bordered on hatred. Not that her kind could feel something so negative. The cherubim were all about forgiveness and love. Puke. Who needed love when there was passion?

“Pissed off, Feathers? Sweet.” I moved my hand beneath the curve of her ass, stretched my fingers between her legs, probed. “Let’s have angry sex.”

Her jaw clenched. “My lord. Don’t.”

“Don’t?”

“Please.”

“So polite, she is. So easy for her to beg.” I winked at her, let my grin stretch wider than my human-seeming mouth should have allowed. Between her thighs, my fingers glided over the silk of her dress, barely touching, only hinting at what I could do, how I could make her feel. “You don’t want me touching you, Feathers?”

“No, my lord.”

“You didn’t seem to mind before, when you were shoving your tit in my mouth.”

She swallowed thickly, turned her head away. Her flaxen hair spilled over her shoulder, winking in the light of the bar, begging me to run my hands through it. Her voice a whisper, she said, “I didn’t know it was you, my lord.”

The poor thing sounded like she was going to cry. One could only hope. My fingers pressed harder, stroked her, stroked until she let out a shuddering gasp. Oh, sweetness, the sounds you’d make if I fucked you…

“Please, my lord. Stop.”

I stopped, but kept my hand between her legs, waiting. “So I was good enough for you before, but not now?”

“You will never be good enough for me, my lord.” The angel lifted her chin, then turned to look me in the eye. Her baby blues sparkled with enough pride to make the Arrogant whistle in appreciation. “You can’t be good. It’s not in your nature.”

“You sweet-talker, you. Bet you say that to all the demons. Or maybe you’re just being nice to me.” I grinned, flashing my fangs. “I think you like me.”

“I don’t like you, my lord.”

“You like everyone, sweetness. That’s in your nature. And I think you like me more than you care to admit. I think you want me. What do you say? Want me to pop your celestial cherry?”

“No.” She added a belated, “My lord.”

I laughed softly, enjoying the picture of her holy indignity. “Get off your high horse, Feathers. You work for Hell now. Sooner or later, you’re going to have to spread your legs and bring in a client. You haven’t yet, have you?”

She swallowed, said nothing.

“You’re still virginal. Pure,” I said, stretching the word, turning it into something wicked. “Take it from me, the lower-downs aren’t too keen on poor performers. The consequences are pretty steep.”

“I am well aware of my situation, my lord.”

“You should take me up on my offer. A little pain, a lot of pleasure. Once I break in that tight body of yours, the mortals won’t be able to restrain themselves. They’ll be begging you to fuck them and take them to the Pit.” Oh, to bed an angel, to seduce one who used to bask in the light of Heaven…

Shivers.

I nibbled on the shell of her ear, and she shuddered against me—I felt her nipples harden, smelled the desire burst through her body in a peppermint splash. “I’d go slow with you, sweetness. I’d make your first time unforgettable.” I nudged my hand away from her slit, trailed it over the curve of her waist, the top of her breast, up farther until I cupped her chin. Looking her in the eye, I said, “Let me make a succubus out of you.”

Something in her gaze shifted, softened. But I’d never know what she was going to say, because at that moment, a voice boomed in my mind:

DAUN, GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE.

Shit.

Before I could voice a proper response, the mental connection broke.

So much for my goal of a three-week buzz before going Downstairs. When one of Hell’s elite wanted you, you didn’t stall, not if you wanted to avoid a dip into the Lake of Fire.

On my lap, the angel squirmed. “My lord? Are you all right?”

Look at that: she cared, despite all her protests. Or maybe that really was her celestial essence shining through. “Got to go, Feathers. Pan wants a word with me. Think about my offer.”

She sniffed again. I decided it was sexy—sort of her version of foreplay. “There’s nothing to think about, my lord. I will never make love to you.”

“Love? I’m talking about good old-fashioned fornication. Making the beast with two backs. Having sex. Fucking.”

She shuddered delicately. Poor thing’s sensibilities were offended. Heh.

“Come here, you.” I pulled her to me and kissed her roughly, bruising her lips with mine. She squealed into my mouth, and my blood boiled from the sound of her fear laced with desire. My tongue pried its way between her lips, ran over her teeth, prodded. The angel gasped and tried to break the kiss, but I fused my mouth to hers.

Don’t fight me, sweetness.

Either we had our own connection or she just decided to surrender, because her protests died and she went limp in my arms and opened her mouth to mine. Her taste flooded my mouth: gold, mingled with peppermint. Very nice. I pushed, drenched the cherub with my power…and then transferred my client’s soul into her. As the angel absorbed the spiritual bond, she let out a long, delicious moan.

Boom boom.

When I couldn’t feel the murderess’s soul on my tongue any longer, I ended the kiss, pulled away. The cherub’s eyes were closed, a look of bliss stamped onto her face.

Fuck me, she was so damn beautiful.

“There you go, Feathers. Your very first soul claim. Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

She opened her eyes, which were glazed from the joy of tasting her first human soul. “My lord? Why did you—”

“I’m dead.”

The angel stiffened, turned to look at the red-and-black form of the dead woman’s spirit, which now hovered to her right.

“Enjoy the company, Feathers.”

“Oh…damn me.”

I loved it when she cursed. With a parting wink, I let my power wash over me and take me to Hell.