The Road To Hell Part 3

The hardwood floor was a smoking mess. Smack dab in the center, the pierced heart glowed faintly with dying red embers, giving it the illusion of winking. I gnawed my lower lip as I stared at the symbol. If Paul saw that when he came home, he'd...

Blinking, I realized I had no idea how he'd react. Just because we knew each other's bodies intimately and wanted to do the growing-old-and-gray thing together, that didn't mean I could read his mind. But given that the love of my life was a cop, I had a nagging suspicion he wouldn't just shrug off a symbol burned into his living room floor as the price one paid for living in New York City.

Throwing one last look at the ruined floor, I scurried into the tiny kitchen and grabbed the receiver from its cradle on the wall. Wireless phones: proof that magic was all around us, slumming as technology. I hit the star b.u.t.ton, the number 1, and then the talk b.u.t.ton.

A moment later, a warmth-inducing deep voice said, "Paul Hamilton."

"Heya, sweetie."

"Hey." I heard the smile in his voice, and it made my nipples ache. Bless me, he had such a s.e.xy voice... and that smile, ooh..."I should be out of here in five, ten minutes." His words were punctuated by the clacking of fingers on a keyboard. That's my Cabin Boy-quite the multi-tasker. "Just have to finish up a bit more paperwork."

"That's okay," I said, grateful that he'd missed the Erinyes. That would have made for an uncomfortable moment, to say the least. Paul, meet Alecto, Fury of Unceasing Anger. Mind the snakes-they bite. She's here to take me back to h.e.l.l. By the way, I used to be a succubus.

"Say, I was thinking about bringing back some Chinese."

"Great," I said. "Listen, there's something wrong with the floor."

"Maybe some moo shu chicken, a couple egg rolls."

"Fine. About the floor-"

"Or maybe Szechwan wontons. I know you like them hot enough to melt your tongue."

"Sweetie, the floor's sort of messed up."

"d.a.m.n."

Biting my lip, I ventured, "But I'm sure it can be fixed..."

"I just erased my last two paragraphs. Stupid keyboard."

Huh?

"Look, Jess, I have to go. I keep s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up the wording on this report. At this rate, I'm never getting out of here."

"But what about the floor?"

"Call George. I'm sure floors are part of the call-the-super list."

"Um, okay." I wondered whether George would consider erasing a smoking, charred glyph as overtime. "I'll do that." Now that I thought about it, did I really want Paul to get involved in Alecto's scheme, whatever it was? Non, nyet, nein, and f.u.c.k no. I shouldn't have called him at all. Okay, I'd have George help me hide the symbol. No symbol, no questions from Paul.

"Hon?"

"Yeah?"

"What's wrong with the floor?"

"Um, It's probably nothing. Just some scratches." In the pattern of a heart run through with a sword.

"Scratches can be fixed. Definitely call George. Star nine on speed dial. Let me go so I can finally get out of here and pick up dinner for us."

"Thanks, sweetie."

"Love you."

That never failed to make my toes curl. "Love you too." A ridiculous, lovestruck grin smeared across my face as I hung up the phone. It felt perfect.

Paul Hamilton loved me. No matter how bad my immediate future looked, for the moment, all was good.

That's the c.r.a.ppy thing about good moments. They never last.

Five minutes after I called George, the man himself stood in Paul's living room, scratching his head as he looked at the symbol. The super was one of those pear-shaped men that always look like they're wearing a girdle but really aren't. His paint-splattered overalls emphasized his curves in ways that would make Jessica Rabbit jealous. While his body wasn't exactly a paragon of manliness, his mocha skin looked delicious enough to slurp. Beneath a white baseball cap, he had mounds of black hair. I wondered if it was soft or wiry, how it would feel as I ran my fingers through it.

I shook my head. Bad former succubus. No lookee, and definitely no touchee.

But ooh, his hair was so black that it gleamed with blue highlights. Maybe he had blue-black hair all over that pear shape. Maybe he was more like a kiwi, furry outside and so succulent and juicy inside...

Argh. Mental head slap. I'm a human. I'm in love with Paul. And I'm definitely not going to think about having s.e.x with a man who had more curves than me.

"Weirdest thing I seen since I been working here," George said, his accent a consonant-twisting combo of Brooklyn and Boston. "You say you found it like this?"

"Yeah."

"And it wasn't like this before you got in the bath?"

"No. I heard a noise, which is why I got out of the tub. And boom, there it was, right there on the floor." Minus the visit from one of the three Furies, of course.

"So someone snuck in, burned that into the floor, and snuck back out, all before you got out of the bath."

I did the Bambi-eyes thing. "Yes."

"Huh." His gaze slid to my cleavage. "You want, you can get dressed while I look at this closer."

Whoops. I glanced down at my towel. Between being a demon of s.e.x for four thousand years and working as an exotic dancer here on the mortal coil, I was used to parading around barely dressed. Actually, I preferred it. I kept forgetting that most people felt uncomfortable when they were naked.

Mental note: Learn modesty.

Looking back at the scorch marks, he asked, "You know who did this?"

"Nope." Lying believably was one of those demon traits that I didn't lose when I became human. Maybe I should go into politics.

"Huh." He almost touched the mark, but he pulled his hand back. "Hey, this is still hot!"

"Fancy that. So can you paint over it?"

"Paint?" He shot me a look that said I was maybe as smart as a brain-dead louse. "You want me to paint over the wood floor?"

"Um. Of course not. I meant stain it."

"Stain."

A quick eye-roll on my part, then, "Look, I really need to either fix this or hide this. Can you do it?"

"Well," he said, rubbing his chin, "maybe. Been a while since I been able to really work with my hands."

Oooh. Wonder what those hands would feel like working on me...

Stop it, stop it, stop it! Focus, Jesse! "Terrific. So what, you could fix this in like five minutes, maybe?"

His mouth opened, closed. He shook his head. Maybe he was trying to figure out how to speak to me in small words. He took off his cap and wrung it between his hands. Finally he said, "See, I'm going to need a bunch of things. Paintbrush, tung oil, a cloth. Wire brush, maybe steel wool. And a pocketknife. First I need to see how deep the burns go and grind away the burned wood. Then I got to use the wire brush on it, real careful so I don't got to do any sanding. Then I got to clean it all away with the paintbrush, dab on some oil, and see how it looks. Might have to smooth the whole thing down more with the steel wool."

He paused, either for breath or for dramatic effect. Then he said, "So no, five minutes ain't going to happen."

"Fine," I said. "Maybe ten?"

"Lady, you want to get rid of this in ten minutes? Cover it up with a rug."

"Oh," I said, brightening. "That's smart. Can you get me one of those?"

With a pained look on his face, he said, "You don't even live here, do you?"

I lifted my chin higher. "Of course I do."

The pained look melted into suspicion.

"Sort of," I amended. "Paul and I are in love."

"Love." He tugged his cap back over his hair, the rim shadowing his face... but not before I saw his dark eyes twinkle. "How sweet."

Something in his voice made me frown, but I couldn't put my finger on it. I tried to sneak a peek at his aura, but all I got for my effort was eyestrain. I couldn't read him. c.r.a.p. It figured that the spiffy magical ability I got along with my soul was defective. My talent was less dependable than a condom ten years past its expiration date.

He smirked at the charred heart on the floor. "And look, someone charbroiled their love for you. There's a whole lot of loving going on."

Unease bubbled in my stomach. Maybe I was crazy, but I thought the super lost his tough-guy accent. Clearing my throat, I asked, "So, can you help me?"

His smirk widened, and I noticed his teeth were stained from tobacco or coffee. "You really want my help?"

What I wanted was to give him a mad case of blue b.a.l.l.s and then throw him out of the apartment; he was starting to seriously creep me out. But Paul would be home soon, and there was no way he could see the mess on the floor. Short of throwing my towel over it and distracting Paul with my womanly charms, I was out of ideas. So that meant I had to play nice with the super.

I turned on my Helpless Female smile, full strength. "Sweetie, I don't just want your help. I need it."

"Well now." He turned to look at me, his gaze lost beneath the bill of his white baseball cap. He reached out and touched my hand, held it, gave a squeeze. "If you need it, of course I'll give it to you."

Either the innuendo in his words or his unexpected touch made me gasp. Hidden beneath my towel, my s.e.x began to tingle.

His finger rubbed against my palm. Shocks of pleasure rippled beneath his touch, worked their way up my arm. "You're sure you didn't see the one who did this to the floor?"

My voice breathy, I said, "Positive."

George chuckled, his voice rich and deep... and lush, almost thick enough to feel it dancing on my skin. With his free hand, he lifted the rim of his cap enough for me to see a soft red glow to his eyes.

"Babes," said the demon inside the man, "you're such a liar."

My breath caught in my throat. "Daun?"

George grinned in a very wicked way. "In the borrowed flesh."

Over the millennia, the incubus Daunuan had been the yin to my yang, the b.u.mp to my grind. Now that I was a human, his visit meant one of two things-he wanted s.e.x, or he wanted something else along with the s.e.x.

Before I could decide how to react to Daun's presence, he pulled me to George's body and clamped a hand on my bare shoulder. This close, I smelled the faintest hint of sulfur, but it was almost buried under the super's aftershave and sweat.

"Heya, sweetie," I said, trying to keep my voice steady and my s.e.x drive in first gear. "This is a surprise."

Pressed against the super's torso, I was keenly aware that Daun was very, very happy to see me; his happiness jabbed me just above my belly.

"Been a while," Daun whispered into my neck. I felt the tiny hairs there stand on end, teased by his breath. "Missed you lots. When George here swung by, I had to tag along."

"How'd you manage that? He hang a sign up? 'Thrill me, chill me, possess me, baby'?"

"George has a bit of a c.o.ke habit. I didn't have to knock. He let me right in."

"Ah." Some mortals made it easy for demons to inhabit their bodies. Addicts of any sort were at the top of the list.

I felt him smile against my neck. " 'Ah'? Boring. Let's go for 'Oh.' "

His tongue trailed against the hollow of my throat. I groaned as a tingle worked its way through me, a soft humming in my belly and lower down. Bless me, how I'd missed his touch, his mouth, his- The licks turned to kisses, and the tingle between my legs sparked into a full-blown electrical charge.

No, I thought, really wanting to howl a yippie-ki-yay. No, this was wrong.

What could be wrong? my body asked me. A little friendly foreplay, maybe an o.r.g.a.s.m or two. What's so bad about that?

He's not Paul.

My body scolded me for getting a bout of morals at a distinctly inopportune time.

"Nice," I said, the word nowhere close to describing how Daun was making me feel. "But it's time to stop."

I tried to push him away, but Daun held me tight. The hand on my shoulder moved down to my back, where it began to knead and press. I melted against him as he ma.s.saged away my protests. Stop, I wanted to say again, but every move of his fingers rubbed away pieces of my willpower, and all I could do was moan. His mouth worked its way up my neck, my jaw, my ear. He hit a doozy of a spot, and I let out a delighted squeal they must have heard three floors down.

Nuzzling against me, he said, "You really want me to stop? Babes, just say the word."

My mouth opened, ostensibly to tell him to stop this right now, I refused to kanoodle with anyone who wasn't my true love. I'd never know what I would have actually said, because he crushed his lips on mine, and my brain short-circuited.

It didn't matter that his physical form was George's-the l.u.s.t was all Daun's, and so were the moves. George's hand unwrapped my towel, but it was Daun's touch that pebbled my nipples, that made them ache for his mouth. No matter what shapes we'd worn over the millennia, Daun and I had always moved well together. Like now: his tongue rolled with mine as our saliva mingled; his hips rolled with mine as I bucked against him. One hand stayed on my back, pinning me, while the other fondled my breast, caressed its underswell, squeezed. I groaned, but his mouth ate the sound, swallowed it whole.

This was wrong, this was wrong, this was- He broke the kiss to trail his tongue down my lips, my chin, my neck, down to the valley between my b.r.e.a.s.t.s. My breathing quickened as he cupped one full mound with his right hand, then slowly lapped his tongue over the curve of flesh.

It was wrong, but it felt so right.