Mysteria Nights

For three amazing, talented women:

MaryJanice, P. C., and Gena.

What an absolute pleasure to revisit

Mysteria with you all.

Prologue

Once upon a time there lived a demon

with a secret wish to be human.

It made Satan very, very unhappy . . .

CIRCUS MAXIMUS, ANCIENT ROME

One hundred and fifty thousand spectators lunged to their feet, cheering as the chariots flew out of the starting gate. Everyone from the lowliest slave to the emperor himself added to the deafening applause. The attention, the excitement, the anticipation: Shay reveled in it, savoring every aspect of the races from the dust churned up by chariot wheels to the dizzying sensation of sheer speed. Most racers conserved energy in the early laps in order to give it their all in the final stretches. Bah! Rules were for mortals. Full speed ahead!

Four powerful horses tugged on the reins wrapped around Shay’s fist and down her arm to her waist. If she were to crash, she doubted she’d have time to cut free with her dagger before being trampled or dragged to her death. Not that she worried about such frivolous things as dying.

Shay threw back her head and laughed. Dust billowed into the air and settled like fine powder over her toned, slender arms and her black racing colors. The fabric fluttered around her breasts, barely concealing them. She heard shouts of surprise. “A woman!” they cried.

“A she-demon, actually,” she murmured smugly. Not that they’d care. Men never seemed to mind as long as they thought they were getting what they wanted from her.

In particular, she noted the emperor’s hot, interested gaze, dismissing it as a mere annoyance. Warlords were sometimes diverting, yes; chieftains, too. But emperors? All pomp and little circumstance. She wouldn’t bother with this one unless she was very, very bored. And she doubted she’d be bored today. There was much to be done.

A blink of her eyes, and two chariots collided. Spectacular! Ooh, and a trampling, too. Score!

Shay couldn’t remember the last time she had so much fun. She was sent by Lucifer all over the world—a plague here, a fire there—but she’d rather be here. Something about racing made her feel so alive. So . . . real.

She cringed. Cease that drivel! If the Dark Lord ever got wind of her addiction to earthly life, he’d snuff out her existence like a boot crushed a flickering ash. He’d told her as much, countless centuries ago when he’d suspected she was hanging around an Ice Age settlement because she’d taken a fancy to nights spent cuddling in the furs with one of its hunters, Swift River. Master had been right, of course. With the fear of permanent extermination hanging over her head, she ended the affair with a good-bye kiss and an avalanche and went on her way.

Shay pushed the painful memory away. Her job was to break hearts and tear families apart, not to pretend she was human. Not to pretend love. Especially not at the risk of her own existence. Something about ceasing to be frightened her. She’d do everything she could to avoid that fate.

Snarling, Shay punched her fist to the side. The horses pulling the chariot next to hers went wild, yanking their rider toward the wall with a snapping of wood and the scraping of metal. The champion’s scream was cut short. “Buh-bye, Scorpus.” He’d won far too many races, anyway. It was time he retired.

Dust rose from the wrecks as the remaining racers plunged down the straightaway. Easily, Shay commanded the lead. Only one other racer had the stamina to keep her pace. Aquila. The shaggy-haired upand-coming champion seemed to have it all: looks, youth, a beautiful wife and child, and all of Rome at his feet. Sensing she was pulling ahead, Aquila slid his narrowed eyes in her direction, sizing up her chariot, her horses, and her technique. Roman sunshine gleamed on his sweating skin. My, but he was nicely muscled. She could tell by his glance that he saw her as simply another competitor and not a potential lover. Probably because of his pretty little wife and baby. Aw, he was in love. How easy that would be to change. In fact, she’d keep him alive just to prove the point!

Laughing, Shay urged her horses on ahead, just like she’d urge on Aquila in bed after the race. Feeling generous, she’d even let him win. What did it matter? He’d lose later. They always did.

Neck and neck, they careened around the last turn. Who would win? Who would lose? In those final, breathless, exhilarating moments, Shay allowed him to drift into the lead. He beat her by a length. The crowd’s applause was thunderous. They had a new champion!

Magnificent in his crimson racing colors, Aquila beamed as he received his palm branch and wreath from the magistrate. Shay shook out her hair as she jumped down from her chariot. As the silly Romans fawned over him, she undulated her hips as she sashayed past, brushing her finger down his arm. In his mind was planted a vivid image of her moaning and naked, submitting to his every desire. His dark eyes flashed with sudden awareness. It was done.

Away from the circus, she’d barely breezed into her tent when he came striding after her, stripping her out of her clothes before she reached the bed. He threw her on her back, impaling her with his body, pumping with sweaty, dusty, postvictory vigor. Mentally, she took control, making him believe it was the best sex he’d ever had, and that she was first in his heart. You’ll love me to the end of time, Aquila.

“To the end of time . . .” he breathed in her ear.

Stupid mortal.

The tent flap eased open, and a woman stepped in. A babe on her hip, she took a moment to let her eyes adjust to the shade and to the sight of Aquila’s pumping bottom. Then she met Shay’s amused gaze.

He loves me. Shay planted the realization in the woman’s mind. One startled sob, and the wife was gone.

Shay vanished herself—at the very moment of Aquila’s release. He spilled his seed on an empty bed, not knowing what had happened to her, to him—or to his little wife when he returned to an empty house later.

Love, Shay thought with disdain. It was her mission to destroy it. It was her entire reason for existence. When all was said and done, she had to say she was very, very good at her job.

One

Wanted: Loving, live-in nanny to care for working couple’s only child. Must be willing to relocate to Mysteria. Private bedroom in home. Call for salary and details.

“Demon!” Lucifer bellowed loud enough to shake the depths of Hell. Molten rocks fell from the walls, sending shrieking banshees into the shadows and waking every manner of dark creature.

Head bowed, her hands clasped in submission, Shay scurried forward to answer her master’s bidding.

“You’re late!” Lucifer tugged on his black goatee. “What’s your excuse this time?”

“This demon offers exquisite apologies, my lord. This demon had a raft full of orphans to set adrift in shark-infested waters.”

“And did you?”

“Yes, Master.” She chanced a peek at him. “Is something amiss, Master?”

His horns pulsed as he sank his pitchfork into solid rock and bellowed once more in rage. It was clear that something had made him very, very angry. Shay hoped it wasn’t anything she’d done. How quickly he could change her back into what she was at the beginning of time: nothing. “I will never surrender to the spawn of a demon whose ass I fired for committing random acts of kindness!” He jerked a claw at the cave wall. The stones shimmered and opened up to a view of a charming town.

A tall man of dark good looks strode down a road leading to a cottage and a small church. “Damon of Mysteria . . .” Shay narrowed her eyes, scanning the scene with slitted pupils. She was starting to understand the reason for her summons. For ten centuries Damon had served as Lucifer’s Demon High Lord of Self-Doubt and Second Thoughts . . . until he was caught, red-handed, committing random acts of kindness. After a couple of hundred years of torture, Lucifer made him mortal, sentencing him to live out his days in Mysteria, the very town he’d saved hundreds of years before. Such a mundane, pitiful existence was every demon’s worst nightmare.

Except that Damon didn’t seem to be suffering at all. He’d fallen in love, not only with his sorry life but with a human woman. A woman of God, no less: Harmony Faithfull, who presided over Mysteria’s silly little house of worship.

Not that Lucifer had taken it sitting down. Rumors circulating around the lava pools reported that the Devil had been acting downright petulant about Damon’s—dare she say it?—contentment. The Dark Lord had sent wave after wave of subdemons and other obnoxious creatures up through the gates of Hell to torment Damon and his new wife, along with the residents of Mysteria, many of whom were undead themselves. Each time, the town fought back. No one was quite sure how or even why they could, but the matter was being investigated.

Now the couple was married. Harmony was said to adore the former demon beyond all reason. Shay snorted. No man was worth that kind of dreamy, addle-brained worship. If that wasn’t bad enough, they’d spawned a child.

It was all so revolting! Shay made a face. Clearly, Lucifer wanted the family broken apart. “I’ll bed him as soon as I arrive there, Master. Or, perhaps, her. I can do them both.”

“No, you stupid creature!” He hoisted her off her feet. “I do not want you to bed them. I want you to destroy their child!”

Shay hung, trembling, from her master’s clawed hands. His crimson eyes were whirlpools of lava, threatening to suck her in, luring her deeper and deeper. If she lost herself in those eyes, she’d be trapped, unable to free herself. She would . . . end.

A slow smile revealed his glittering fangs. “You fear the end of your existence.”

He knows.

Of course, he did. Did she think she could keep her deepest fears secret? “Answer me, Demon!” He shook her hard. Goblins and gargoyles somersaulted through the shadows, fleeing the chamber and Lucifer’s wrath.

“Yes,” she wheezed in his grip. “This humble demon fears being no more.”

His fanged smile widened. His glowing eyes sparked with malice. “Then you will not fail me.”

“No, Master.”

“Win their trust so they let you near the child.”

“Yes, Master.”

“And stay away from the fountain,” he growled.

“What fountain?”

“What fountain?” He shook her, fire erupting in his eyes. “If only you were as smart as you are evil! Mysteria’s fountain, stupid demon. The wishing fountain. Do not go near it.”

“Why?” Even as she asked, she knew it was a mistake to do so.

He shook her so hard that her ears rang. “My word is law! It is not to be questioned. Go earthward and win the trust of the family. Then kill the child and bring its bones back to me. Fail and . . .” He brought her face-to-face with him. “I will erase you, eradicate you, stamp you out—for all eternity!” His roar shook the entire cave. “No matter where you run, no matter where you hide, I will find you, and end you. You will never escape your fate.”

Sputtering, he threw her to the ground. She scrabbled backward to her feet, stumbling away from his threat: “I will find you, and end you.” Humans had their Heaven (or Hell). Angels, also, could look forward to Heaven. As well, all matter of undead creatures had a future ahead of them, whether they were vampires, shape-shifters, or even ghosts. But for a ruined demon, eternity meant nothing, zero, zilch. She simply would no longer be.

The prospect frightened Shay more than anything else. She would find the child and kill it. There was no other choice. Failure was simply not an option.

Damon, new father and ex-demon, climbed the porch stairs to the home he shared with his wife, Harmony, Mysteria’s minister. Their black Lab Bubba bounced around his heels, barking happily. Before Damon reached the top of the stairs, Dr. Fogg burst out, juggling his black medical bag and his ever-present BlackBerry as he pushed his glasses up his nose.

Damon’s heart rolled over. His wife, his babe—he couldn’t bear the thought of any harm coming to them. “Is everything all right, Doctor?”

“In your house, yes. My visit with your wife was interrupted. They need me at the high school. Fighting Fairies practice was a little rougher than usual today.”

“I do like American football,” Damon admitted.

“Football? It was the cheerleaders.” Fogg ran a finger around the inside of his collar as he trotted the rest of the way down the stairs.

Despite his intellectual outward appearance, Fogg had taken a wildelf princess as a wife. Wild-elves lived outside Mysteria and outside the law. When they mated with humans it was usually by force. A month into the surprise marriage, the elf left him. The mild-mannered doctor had referred himself to Harmony for spiritual counseling. Today had been the first session.

Harmony stood in the doorway. “Well,” she said with a sigh, “that was interesting.”

Damon lifted a brow at his worried-looking wife. “He doesn’t look well, lass.”

“He’s not, the poor man. He’s been through a hard time. I think today helped—a lot. He’ll be back. As for you, come here, honey. I need a kiss.”

The lass knew how to do things with her mouth no woman of God should know how to do, but he was glad of it. He took a moment to hold her close, cupping her sweet face in his hand, savoring the feel of her skin and the love shining in her eyes as she smiled up at him. He’d existed ten thousand years before Harmony. In his mind, life had only just begun.

He brushed one more kiss across her lips and took her hand. “Damon Junior misses his daddy,” she said, leading him inside.

In the kitchen, little Damon sat in his highchair. He squealed in delight, seeing his father. “Papa!” The vase of flowers on the kitchen table jumped, took two hops, and stopped.

“Omigosh,” Harmony cried, running for a dish towel to mop up the spill as Damon said sternly, “Son, I told you no moving furniture—or any other items—without my or your mother’s permission.”

Harmony paled, the damp cloth dangling from her hand. “Are you saying little Damon moved that vase?”

“Aye. I saw him do it for the first time the other day. When you came home from the store and the lamp fell.”

“That was the wind.”

“Nay,” he said quietly.

“You mean our baby has . . . powers?” she practically squeaked.

He tried to reach for her hand, but she’d shoved it through her hair. “We talked about that possibility when you were pregnant, love.”

“I know, but . . .” She sighed. “We thought the chance of your demon powers being passed on in your DNA was remote if not impossible.”

“Impossible is a woman of God falling in love with an ex-demon,” he said tenderly. “Impossible is a former minion of Lucifer finding out he has a soul. And yet, both happened. Aye, love, who are we to say what is possible and what is not? Besides, I’m not the only one with powers in this relationship.” Harmony was a powerful seer, a talent she’d inherited from her great-grandmother. She hadn’t yet fully come to terms with what she was. He wasn’t surprised she’d “forgotten” that he wasn’t the only one supplying their offspring’s supernatural genes.

The vase jumped again. Harmony turned to their son, shaking her finger at him. “Damon Junior! You heard your father, no . . . no telekinesis !” She made a face. “I can’t believe I just said that.”

The babe flashed a blinding grin, and Harmony melted. “The little charmer. He has your smile, honey. I’m going to have to become immune to it if I’m ever going to effectively discipline this kid. Oh, Damon, what are we going to do?”

“He’s only a year old, lass. In time he’ll learn to control his powers.” Powers that Damon predicted would grow even stronger as he aged. “It’s of utmost importance that we keep his abilities secret from Lucifer.”

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem, seeing that I haven’t talked to your former boss in”—Harmony pretended to concentrate—“ages. Our paths just never seem to cross,” she quipped sarcastically. Then she noticed how serious he was, and her eyes opened wide. “Will Satan be able to sense him? Will he know what our baby can do? Oh, Lord, Damon, will he try to hurt our child?”

Fear gripped Damon. Anger, too. “We’ll do everything in our power to ensure that never happens, lass. But one day the boy will rise as a powerful rival to the Devil.”

Little Damon giggled, and the ice cubes in the pitcher of ice tea rattled. “Damon Junior!” Harmony scolded in unison with Damon. Then she whirled on him, eyes ablaze. “As for your last comment, Damon of Mysteria, don’t think I didn’t notice you sneaked that in. There will be no ultimate showdowns between our baby and the Devil. Do you hear me? I forbid it.”

Outside, thunder rumbled as Harmony took a seat at the table. She mumbled grace before serving lunch, which they ate awed into silence by the prospect of epic battles of good and evil. A few moments later, the first raindrops began to fall.

The doors to Hell opened with a belch of heat, expelling a single demon before slamming closed again. The forest sang with the squeaks and scrabbling of the few winged subdemons and goblins released when the hellhole opened. The lesser beasts scattered into the mist, off to their wanton mischief, but the demon, experienced and centuries-old, scurried with purpose through the rain. There were miles yet to cover before reaching the hamlet of Mysteria.

Mindful was the demon of keeping out of the sight of humans. It could not be interrupted, stymied, or sidetracked. It had a job to do. Find the child. Kill it before it grew to adulthood and challenged Lucifer himself.

“Fail, and I will erase you, eradicate you, stamp you out—for all eternity! No matter where you run, no matter where you hide, I will find you, and end you.”

The she-demon cowered and hissed, crouching out of sight as she took on her traditional human form. Her coarse red hide fell away, replaced by smooth, creamy flesh. Cloven hooves elongated into two feet, complete with ten perfect shell-pink toenails. Gone were the horns sprouting from her skull; in their place were jaw-length waves in rich, reddish brown. Slits no longer dominated her copper-colored eyes. They were rimmed with dark lashes, appearing completely human. No one would be able to tell what she was and what she’d come here to do.

Kill. The wind howled and shook the canopy of rain-drenched trees. Under the cloak of low-hanging clouds, Shay lurched forward and down the hillside, knowing exactly where to go.

Two

“Can you really smell a demon a mile away?”

Quel Laredo stood in front of Mysteria’s wishing fountain, surveying the town square. A breeze whipped his duster around his long, denim-clad legs. Water from the fountain sent mist into the dry, Rocky Mountain air. Sniffing, his eyes in a perpetual squint, he sampled that air, tasting it. The storm had passed, allowing the sunset to break through, but something wasn’t quite right about this twilight. He couldn’t figure out what.

“Can you, Mr. Laredo?”

“Yeah.” The wide-eyed boy was one of the O’Cleary grandchildren, he guessed. He’d lost count of them all. They weren’t a family; they were a herd. “Two miles if the wind is right.”

“Like now?” the boy breathed in fearful wonder.

Nodding, Quel peered into the deepening shadows in the woods at the edge of town. The scent of evil was growing stronger. There was definitely something out there.

“Hey, Laredo, do you want to buy me a drink? Come on, you know you do.” A comely enchantress brushed her hand along his arm as she passed by with her female friends. “We’ll be at Knight Caps. Afterward, I’m free.”

“I’m working.”

“Late?”

“Late.”

“Shame.” Her voice turned husky. “All work and no play makes Quel a dull boy.” In the face of his silence, she tried to recant. “I mean, not that I find you dull. Not at all. It’s just a saying.”

He tipped his hat. “That’s all right.”

Smiling, she backed up, almost stumbling on her high heels before hurrying away to join her friends.

Her lush little ass swayed as she shimmied away. A nice piece, but Quel didn’t feel much like company. There was something about the air tonight. It was different from anything he’d detected before. Something very old and very dark had been unleashed, and he wouldn’t let down his guard until he figured out what it was.

Making snuffling sounds, the boy screwed up his face. “You smell anything yet, Mr. Laredo? I don’t.”

“Hurry on home, boy. Your mama’s going to be worried.”

Half in awe, half-terrified, the boy ran off. Not all that different of a reaction from the women in town, Quel thought. Not that he blamed others for the way they acted around him. He’d grown up tough, eight foster families in ten years, but that wasn’t it, entirely. It was what people saw in his eyes that scared them away. His eyes reflected what he’d seen—and continued to see: demons.

Growing up, he thought demons were make-believe. Now he knew more about them than he wanted to know. The first time he’d laid eyes on a demon was on a battlefield in Iraq. He’d woken up bleeding from his head and chest after a roadside bomb had taken out the convoy he was escorting. He’d been working private security for Blackstone, he was experienced and sought out for it, but this time the terrorists had been kids—nothing but damn kids, no more than fourteen, fifteen years old. They did what few others had ever been able to pull off: they caught Quel Laredo by surprise. The attack was quick and on target. He’d woken to see a gangly, leather-skinned monster crouched next to one of the wounded soldiers. At the time, Quel was sure he was hallucinating. “You see that?” he croaked to his buddy, Hauser, who’d dragged him out of the hot sun.

“We’re gonna get you patched up, Laredo. Hang in there.”

Hang in there? As clear as day, Quel saw a medic fighting to save the soldier, pumping his heart even as the demon drained his soul. “I’m losing him,” the frustrated rescuer shouted, oblivious of the demon.

Quel fought off Hauser. “Get it the fuck away from him!” The soldier would die if they didn’t. Quel got to his hands and knees and dragged himself to the dying man, shoving the demon off his chest. The monster came back—this time for him. Don’t look at its eyes. Quel remembered thinking that. The whirling red balls sucked his strength, his very life, leaving despair and terror in its place. No!

They rolled over the sand, grabbing for each other’s throats. Then, remembering every last horror movie he’d ever seen, Quel stabbed him with the cross his mother had given him before she died.

Quel wasn’t religious—he didn’t follow much of anything—but the necklace was the only link he allowed to his past. The silver sank between the demon’s ribs, sizzling as the creature convulsed, shrieking. By the time the surviving guys on his team got him wrestled to the ground, the damn thing was dead.

Everyone assumed he’d suffered a hallucination. So did Quel, until he started seeing demons all across Iraq. No wonder there was a damned war going on. Evil fueled it.

He put in his papers and left the Gulf. After a few months kicking around a friend’s ranch in Montana, dogged by restlessness and too many memories, he ran into more demons. This time he knew what to do. People were more grateful than they were skeptical, and now even more afraid of him, but he was used to that. Might as well use his ability to see demons to make a living. Now he was Quel Laredo, demon hunter. It kept him on the move. Moving was good. It gave him less time to think. As a demon hunter, he could do some good, and he didn’t have to face his past. A win-win situation, in his mind.

He had a lot to learn at first, and there was no shortage of people wanting to help him. Over the years, he’d studied with everyone from ninjas to witches. He learned that some demons were obvious to the human eye and that others preferred to be invisible, either by disguising themselves as humans or by using dark magic to remain unseen. Quel grabbed freelance demon-hunting jobs where he could find them, never staying long in one place or with any one person. He was like a swift river, sure and cold, always moving on. When Mysteria was hiring, he took the job—just for the winter, he’d thought—but he ended up staying. It had been a year now. He liked it. Maybe he just felt at home with the collection of other lost souls there.

The lost souls he’d sworn to protect.

Quel checked for his rifle, pistols, ammo, silver BBs for the smaller creatures, garlic, and the cross hanging from his neck as he paced in front of the fountain that was the centerpiece of Mysteria’s town square. The water bubbled, sending up spray. The townspeople insisted the fountain was magic, that wishes made there would come true. Hell, he wouldn’t mind the help. He’d find his demon that much sooner.

Frowning, he tasted the air again. Yeah, definitely demon. It was getting stronger, too—the scent of demon mixed with something sweeter, almost distracting. He didn’t like that. No one distracted Quel Laredo.

He pulled on the brim of his hat and kept walking. There was a demon about, and he’d find it before sunrise . . . like he always did.

The night had cleared. Stars had come out. In the moonlight, Shay followed the road leading into Mysteria. She attracted less attention now that she was no longer naked—thanks to the generosity of some campers. Oh, they were startled to see her waltzing into their campsite wearing nothing but her bare curves. A well-placed thought, a blink of her eyes, and they let her take what she needed, convinced they’d done a good deed. Shay liked to leave mortals believing they’d done good, even when they helped her do things that were very, very bad. Yes, she was like the Good Samaritan except with ulterior motives.

The jeans were a little tight in the butt, but the T-shirt was just perfect, snug and smooth. ANGEL, it said, BY VICTORIA’S SECRET. Well, Shay had a secret, too: she was no angel. Her laughter floated in the damp, chill air of the mountains as she smoothed her hands over the outfit. She enjoyed showing off her assets. This body was her favorite. It had served her well for most of the last few thousand of years. Why not showcase it—to Damon’s downfall? You’re not to bed him. You’re to kill the child. Yes, she must remember, no sleeping with Damon. She must keep focused on her mission, even at the temporary expense of fashion. Lucifer wanted no delays.

Eventually she came upon what looked to be an inn. Inside, several couples shared a table as they ate dinner. She sashayed past the line of parked cars, brushing her fingers over the hoods, and paused next to a little red sports car. Her driving had never been as good as her chariot skills, but then she’d not had as many centuries to practice. Still, how could she walk away from this sweet little Porsche, irresistible in devil red? She had a job to do, yes. No one said she couldn’t have some fun while doing it.

A blink of her eyes, and the locks popped open. The diners behind the restaurant window glanced her way, alarmed. Shay blinked, placed the thought: You see my taking the car as a favor. You want me to have it. Think of it as a little gift. Your generosity makes you feel good.

They went back to their meal. Smug, Shay slid in behind the wheel and started up the car. A blink of her eyes, and the license plates and registration reflected her human alter ego: Shay d’Mon. She giggled. Oh, how she enjoyed a good play on words. Yes, Miss d’Mon, single, white, twenty-five years old, complete with no living family and a teaching degree. With the engine purring, she smiled and pulled onto the highway and shoved the gas pedal to the floor. “Full speed ahead.”

A pair of headlights appeared on the road that wound down through the hills into town. Someone was driving way too fast. Outsider, Quel thought, testing the air. Demon. He smelled demon. Yeah, demon and that sweet hint of something delicious underneath that somehow didn’t belong.

Maybe the car had come in contact with the demon and didn’t contain the creature itself. He’d never known demons to drive, but they were crafty; they adapted. He wouldn’t know until it got closer. Quel cradled his rifle in his arms and waited.

The car sped toward town, barely staying on the rain-slick road as it made the switchback turns. It was either a demon without a driver’s license or a dumb-ass city boy playing NASCAR.

A pack of werewolves scampered across the square, headed toward the woods. They’d have to cross the road to do that. Quel glanced at the rising full moon and swore. They’d be too crazed by their hormones to see the danger careening toward them.

“Watch out,” Quel shouted as the car sped toward them. The sound of brakes being applied shrieked in the night. Werewolves scattered. The car fishtailed and spun. A rear wheel clipped the shoulder of the road, flipping the vehicle over. It rolled all the way down the embankment and landed right side up in the center of the fountain with one helluva splash.

Now he’d seen everything. Quel cocked his rifle and headed that way. Whoever—or whatever—was driving that car sure knew how to make an entrance.

Three

Satan’s stones! One minute Shay was swerving to avoid hitting what looked like a dog pack, and the next she was submerged up to her neck in cold water that smelled like a stale pond. Her legs were pinned by the crushed front end of the car, while the rest of her was being crushed by something that felt like a giant balloon.

Cursed air bags. Safety devices were for cowards and mortals with finite life spans.

It took a few seconds to register, but the water was rising—and rising fast. It bubbled over her chest to her shoulders, creeping toward her neck. She couldn’t kick free; her feet were wedged in too tightly. Her hands hunted for something to hold onto, flailing and splashing. Hell’s bells, she felt like a landed trout!

More like a landed piranha. She was that angry—at herself. She liked attention—adored it, actually—but not this much attention. The crash would wake everyone in town and maybe put them on guard against her. She was a stranger on a secret mission. Win their trust, Lucifer had advised her. Escapades like this were not going to get her closer to the child.

The rising water now sloshed at chin level. She sputtered, swearing. Instead of succumbing to panic, she followed the pull of a new and all-encompassing urge—the will to survive—and tried to claw her way out of the air bag.

Something banged on the outside of the car. A shadowy form moved outside the shattered windshield. “Here,” she called. Fires of hell, here. Never had she been so happy to see a mortal, a silly, selfless human who’d come to save her. She couldn’t afford to drown.

If she destroyed this body, she’d have to return to Hell and get a new one, starting all over again. What would the Dark Master think of that? Not much. She could picture him now, pacing and spitting in fury. Not a day into this mission, and she’d already faltered. “I will erase you, eradicate you, stamp you out—for all eternity!”

The human was pounding on the door now, mere inches away. Please, she thought. Please? Since when did Shay beg for anything—or anyone?

“Snap out of it, Shay,” she muttered through gritted teeth. She used to be resourceful. She tried to reach the door handle herself, but her legs were pinned, wouldn’t let her stretch far enough.

The urge to survive expanded, filling her chest, growing more powerful with each beat of her heart, as if she were indeed truly alive and not pretending. She’d long wanted to know what that felt like. Now she never would.

Oh, how she wished otherwise. Over the centuries she’d barely touched what it meant to live, to feel, always wanting more depth of emotion, craving it, but unable to cross the line separating her from what she was and what she’d secretly yearned to be. Always, Lucifer would figure out what she loved most and take it away: Circus Maximus and chariot racing, cuddling in the furs with Swift River on glacial, star-filled nights. He took them all. The poignancy of loss sliced deep—that which was dealt her and that which she’d caused.

She’d inflicted much pain. She’d never cared before. Now the knowledge of her deeds hurt in a way she’d never thought imaginable. She regretted not only her recent misdeeds but every evil act she’d ever accomplished.

You shouldn’t have sent those orphans on a one-way voyage into the sea. Or bedded Aquila the day after his wife told him they were going to have another child.

She even regretted stealing the red sports car and wrecking it. Remorse and shame flooded her, choking her. I’m sorry . . . Truly sorry.

She was evil. She deserved to die.

No, only living creatures died. Monsters like you cease to be.

Shay tipped her chin up and stole a few last breaths before the water caught up, rising over her eyes, her forehead, and submerging her fully. In no time she’d be waking up back in Hell with Lucifer kicking her ass.

Instead, a soft, white cushion enveloped her, something she’d never remembered experiencing after her previous accidents. She went from acute remorse to utter serenity and did not question it. The roll bar slipped from her hands, but somehow she knew everything was going to be okay. The feeling of trust was instinctive, all-encompassing.

For the first time in her life she felt at peace.

It was no longer dark. Shay looked around in wonder. A field of endless soft snow surrounded her . . . so white, so beautiful. And there, across the way, Swift River waited, dressed in furs, his hair flowing in a wind she couldn’t feel. He opened his arms. Smiling, she took the first step toward him.

“Goddamn it, breathe.”

Reality returned in jagged slices. Someone pushing on her chest. A warm mouth sealed over hers. Air swelling her lungs. The scents of sweat and leather, dust and man filling her nostrils. Then she was coughing, her lungs on fire.

Another flash: her eyes opening, a face looming inches from hers. “About damn time,” the male voice muttered. He cushioned her skull from the ground with a hand buried in her soaked hair. Water fell nearby, misting, gurgling, soothing in contrast to the agony hammering inside her skull. “Thought I was going to have to call the coroner,” he growled. “You saved me the trouble, but don’t get me wrong, lady, you’re still a pain in the ass.”

Her vision cleared, and the face came into focus: handsome, raw-featured, and eyes so blue it hurt to look at them. The color of cold, deep water that all but begged a probing of their bottomless depths. She knew that face and those eyes. “Swift River . . .”

“River?” His laugh was quick, derisive. “You landed in the damn fountain.”

She tried to make sense of his modern speech. And his apparent anger. “What happened to the snow?” Her speech sounded a bit slurred to her ears. “All the pretty white snow . . .”

He muttered what sounded like an exasperated curse. “You damn well better not go into hypothermic shock. That’ll really piss me off. Here, put this on.” She was as limp as a rag as he jostled her, lifting her gently to wrap her in a coat—his coat. That’s when she realized she was shivering, her teeth clattering together.

“It’s b-been so long.” She soaked in the sight of the man she never thought she’d see again. Centuries hadn’t erased the memory of his eyes that could alternately turn dark with passion or shine with intelligence, cruelty, or mischief. Lucifer took you from me. He made me hurt you.

How could she have done what she did? Her throat ached. Tears welled up in her eyes. Real tears, not the ones she was so good at simulating. “I made the avalanche,” she confessed in a whisper. “I buried you. I destroyed the settlement.”

Swift River bent forward, coming closer. To kiss her, she thought. She hungered for the touch of his lips. Her entire aching body strained upward to meet him halfway.

He didn’t kiss her. He didn’t even touch her. He sniffed the air as if trying to detect an odor.

“I like your smell, woman,” Swift River used to tell her. He told her so many things; “I love you,” even, although she’d implanted that thought in his mind. Still, a part of her sensed, hoped, he may have meant it.

She brushed her fingers across his warm jaw. “I’m so sorry . . .”

Sighing, he took hold of her hand, removing it from his face. For a second, she thought there might have been a softening of his hard expression; then he spoke, spoiling the illusion. “I’d be sorry, too, lady. Someone’s going to be mighty pissed you wrecked their pretty red Porsche.”

A siren wailed in the background, piercing her head with pain and bringing her back to her senses. The snow was gone. People had gathered around, murmuring in hushed, concerned voices. The man crouched next to her wasn’t Swift River, though the resemblance was strong. This wasn’t the Ice Age; this was Mysteria, and this angry, modern-day man wasn’t her lover. Not even close. By now Swift River would have had her out of her clothes and under the furs with him, hot skin, cold nights. Bliss.

The blue-eyed stranger observed her with a curious expression on his face. He shifted his weight, his boots creaking, his narrowed eyes darker. Had he guessed the direction of her thoughts?

“I thought you were someone else,” she explained.

He gave the air another sniff. “That makes two of us, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. An endearment, but spoken without any obvious tenderness.

You love me. You adore me. She planted the thought in his mind. She’d rather face a simpering love slave than this man’s indifference. His expression, however, remained unchanged.

What, was he immune to her powers of persuasion? She didn’t sense dark powers in him. Bat bugger, she didn’t sense anything at all. Something wasn’t right. An uneasy glance around made her aware of the gathering crowd. Why was she still here in the human’s world, anyway? It made no sense. She’d died—or at least she’d experienced a demon’s version of dying. Except for the haunting vision of the snow, and all the white light.

It was so beautiful . . .

Shay gave her head a small shake. Mistake—the sharp pain nearly blinded her. She moaned. Maybe she was back in Hell, and Lucifer was playing with her, teasing her with images of her Ice Age lover. More than any other demon, Lucifer liked to torment her. She’d eventually learned never to reveal partiality to anything—or anyone—because he’d force her to give them up.

The blue-eyed man stood as the ambulance pulled up and stopped. Doors slammed. A man with tousled brown hair and glasses, a wrinkled shirt, and loosened tie elbowed his way to where she lay on the pavement.

“I’m Dr. Fogg,” he greeted. He immediately took out a flashlight and shined it in her eyes. Grumbling, she tried to turn away, but he wouldn’t let her. If she hadn’t been hurting as much as she was, she would have gotten up and left the scene, leaving them to practice their mortal medicine on someone else.

The blue-eyed man watched the doctor’s every action—and hers. His glare was intent, unwavering. A rifle hung from one hand. “You’d better take a good look at her, Doc. She’s been babbling. She thinks it’s snowing.”

Babbling? Suck a frog, mortal. She shot him a glare, but it made her head spin. He seemed to notice, his mouth twitching ever so slightly in amusement, almost as if he’d provoked her on purpose. Then he sobered, sniffing the air again and frowning. She was tempted to conjure up some exotic perfume—the Egyptians were quite good at crafting it—but she didn’t want to call notice to her identity. She was here undercover.

A dark-haired woman wearing a khaki uniform and a star pinned to her chest showed up, jotting notes on a pad. She had a pretty face and a boyish way about her. “Sheriff,” the blue-eyed man said, nodding.

“Laredo,” she greeted back. Surveying the Porsche with its front end submerged in the fountain, she sent Shay a withering look. “A dead-on dunk by a drop-down drunk. Now, this is a new one on me.”

“I’m not drunk,” Shay said.

“High, then.”

“No.”

The sheriff made a quiet snort. “Miss, how fast were you going? Was there a reason you were in such a hurry?”

The doctor removed his glasses to frown at the sheriff. “She’s in shock and probably has a concussion. Save your strong-arm tactics. I’ll give her a blood test at the hospital. In the meantime, no more questioning until she’s stabilized.”

That suited Shay just fine. With her powers of persuasion apparently on the fritz, she’d be forced to make up a story. Mortals were basically smart; they wouldn’t believe just anything. Whatever she fabricated had to be convincing.

“Can you touch your right finger to your nose?” the doctor requested.

“Of course.” Shay’s finger landed on her upper lip.

“Must be that alcohol she’s not drinking, or the drugs she’s not taking,” the sheriff muttered.

Blue eyes—Laredo—chuckled. Shay’s temper burned. No one laughed at her. She’d show him the consequences of his error. You fall to your knees, sobbing as you beg forgiveness. She blinked, implanting the thought. Nothing. It bounced right off his mind. Fuming, she turned to the sheriff. You itch terribly between your legs.

The woman continued to scribble notes on her notepad. Shay felt the first tingles of fear. What had happened to her powers? She felt as disoriented and defenseless as a gladiator standing in the middle of the arena who just realized he’d left his weapons behind.

“Hey, Laredo,” the sheriff said. “Doc Fogg says you pulled her out of the wreck and resuscitated her. That’s hero stuff.”

Laredo shrugged off the sheriff’s compliment.

“Just doing your job, I know. Consider me impressed. When I hired a demon hunter, I thought I was getting a killer not a lifesaver.”

Shay’s gaze whipped back to Laredo. Satan’s stones! He was a demon hunter? How could she have let him get this close without sensing what he was? Then it hit her that he didn’t recognize what she was, either. If he had, he would have killed her, not revived her.

He wasn’t completely fooled, though. He acted suspicious but not certain—but to a demon hunter, a demon of her caliber should have been obvious. It was clear something had neutralized her dark powers.

“You landed in the damn fountain.”

She remembered Laredo’s words with sudden unease. Lucifer had warned her to stay away from Mysteria’s wishing fountain. This was why. The “damn fountain” had stolen her powers and rendered her helpless. Well, if not quite helpless then very much human.

Human . . . Something inside her leaped at the thought. All her long existence had she not fantasized about being human? Mortal. Craved the thrill of feeling real emotion, of knowing she walked along a finite road of destiny under the constant threat of death? How exhilarating it was to pretend; doing it for real was another thing entirely. The vulnerability was breathtaking.

Terrifying.

And most certainly terminal.

“I will find you, and end you.” Lucifer’s threat strangled her silly daydreams and dragged her back to her senses. “You cannot hide.” Panic gnawed away at her composure, worsening her all-too-human headache. This condition had better be transitory, or she was history. Literally. How could she complete her mission if she was weak and had—she cringed—emotions? Hell’s bells, she’d been bawling only moments ago, thinking Laredo was Swift River. Ugh—how weak! How human. Even now her heart—or what passed for a heart—leaped every time their eyes met. Which was every damn time she glanced his way.

Even as she formed the thought, Laredo was watching her, hard—and not because his heart was leaping (or any other part of him) with the sight of her, she’d bet. He wanted to kill her, not kiss her, and wouldn’t hesitate if she gave any hint of being a demon. In her weakened state, he might very well finish the job.

A woman squeezed past the people surrounding the scene. “Hello, honey.” The woman dropped to a crouch next to Shay and took her hand in hers. She had creamy brown skin, black curly hair shot through with copper highlights, and a smile that could melt glaciers. “I’m Reverend Harmony Faithfull. How can I help?”

Shay’s gloom vanished in a poof. Harmony Faithfull. The mother of the child Lucifer wanted destroyed had walked right into her clutches. What a stroke of devil’s fortune, she thought with a slow smile. Suddenly, things were not as bleak as they seemed. “You already have helped, Reverend. More than you know.” Yet, the thought of hurting Harmony or anyone else gathered around left her feeling sick to her stomach.

Once she got away from the damn fountain, she’d be fine. By morning she’d be able to commence her mission.

As the doctor checked Shay’s blood pressure and other vital signs, Harmony took out a cell phone. “Is there someone I can call for you? Your family? A husband?”

At the mention of a husband, Shay felt Laredo’s stare sharpen. Jealous, was he? She ignored him, trying to project instead a quiet sadness as she shook her head. She needed to throw her whole being and many millennia of lying into convincing Harmony to trust her around the babe. The thought made her stomach clench and her mouth go dry.

Before she had a chance to answer, the sheriff returned. “I ran your plates, Miss Shay d’Mon.” Shay cringed at the surname she’d chosen. It had seemed a good idea at the time. Now she regretted it. Laredo’s suspicious stare was fierce. She didn’t want that man making any connections between her and the underworld, especially not while her demon powers were down. “Your record’s clean. Nothing on you at all. Yet, here’s your car, swimming in our fountain. What did you do? Fall asleep at the wheel?”

Shay’s gaze shot to Harmony’s. She couldn’t have the woman thinking she was irresponsible. I’m hardworking, honest. I’m the perfect woman to trust around your son. She blinked, planting the thought in Harmony’s head.

The minister’s expression remained exactly the same. Serpent’s breath! Without her legendary powers of mental persuasion, she’d have to rely on her wits. She was sure she had some; she’d just never had to rely on them before.

“Aw, honey. It’ll be all right.” Harmony took her hand, squeezing it. Her gaze intensified as she held fast to Shay’s fingers, conjuring the unsettling feeling that the minister saw much more than she let on. Shay’s instinct was to pull her hand away, yet there was something so compelling about the reverend’s regard that it kept Shay in place. In Harmony’s gaze, she felt accepted, forgiven . . . good. Yes, good. In that breathless moment that seemed to hang still in time, Shay was no longer evil.

No longer a monster.

Then Harmony patted her hand, breaking the spell. Her eyes were moist; a sheen of perspiration shone on her forehead. She appeared almost as unsettled as Shay. “You have a soul,” she murmured. “A good and sweet soul.”

Shay covered her appalled snort with a fake coughing attack.

“Leave her be, Reverend Faithfull,” Dr. Fogg scolded. “This young woman needs to rest. She’s in shock.”

If she wasn’t in shock before, she sure was now. Shay hoped Lucifer wasn’t eavesdropping on any of this. Withering warts, a soul! And not just any soul, a “good and sweet” soul. Bat bugger. She hoped to hell the condition wasn’t permanent, merely a trick of the fountain.

Some trick. If it could implant souls in demons, the fountain was more dangerous than she’d thought. Lucifer should have been more specific. Unless he didn’t know. If he didn’t, and these mortals did, it could prove the undoing of the entire dark empire.

Well, no matter. If a soul got in, she could get it out. She’d worry about that tomorrow. As long as her master didn’t know anything was wrong, she was fine.

Harmony stood. “I’ll be out of the good doctor’s hair now, but if you need anything, call.” She smiled once more before disappearing in the crowd.

At the doctor’s direction, the ambulance crew transferred Shay to a stretcher. Going to a hospital was a delay she couldn’t afford. What choice did she have? She didn’t know how severe her injuries were. Without her demon powers, she’d have to rely on the mortals to repair her. Then again, Harmony Faithfull was coming to her hospital room in the morning to see how she was doing. Shay didn’t have to lift a finger to lure her there.

A soul, a good and sweet soul. The woman’s pronouncement haunted her. On the bright side, a soul would throw Laredo off her scent. She stole another glance at the man working so hard to figure her out. Her heart gave another little leap.

He walked alongside the stretcher as they wheeled her to the ambulance. His gait was deceptively casual. There was banked power in that walk. Killing power. He was impressively built, though his frame tended toward leanness rather than bulk. She imagined he hadn’t an ounce of fat on that body. He didn’t seem to be a man who tolerated overindulgence in himself or in anyone else. Shay, on the other hand, loved to indulge, which, of course, underscored the fact that they’d never get along.

Much to her annoyance, Laredo stayed close as she was loaded into the rear of the ambulance. Was he that worried she’d escape? She could hardly lift her aching head much less sit up or walk.

With his rifle cradled in his arms, the demon hunter waited in silence until the doctor and medics had settled her in. “Your coat, Mr. Laredo.” A medic handed Laredo the coat he’d draped over her. It left her top half uncovered. Her soaking-wet pink T-shirt was molded to every curve and contour of her breasts.

Laredo read the slogan scrawled across her chest. “Angel?” His smile was slow, feral. “We’ll see about that, Miss d’Mon.” To her disgust, her heart leaped with the heat and the challenge of his dark stare. Slamming the door closed, he walked away, shoving his rifle back in his holster.

Shay glowered after him. Let him see if he was as arrogant once her powers of persuasion returned!

Four

The morning Shay d’Mon was released from Mysteria General, Quel blended in with the crowd gathered in the town square for the weekly farmers’ market. He bought an apple from a vendor and leaned back against a light post, biting into the fruit while keeping an eye on the Faithfull family: Harmony, Damon, and their boy. The couple had picked up Shay the moment she was discharged. Now, after taking her to lunch, they were giving her the grand tour, including introducing her to what townspeople hadn’t witnessed her infamous crash into the fountain.

They exited an ice cream shop. Shay ran a pointed tongue around the base of the ice cream. It was just a damn ice cream cone, but the woman put her whole focus into indulging in it . . . licking . . . savoring. It was probably the thousandth time she’d eaten ice cream, but she made it look like it was the first time and the best damn thing she’d ever tasted. Swearing, he forced his eyes away from that mouth. He’d been all about resuscitating her the night of the crash, but he hadn’t forgotten the way those lips felt. She was dressed in the same clothes. Laundered, they fit just right on her tight, toned little body. “Angel,” he muttered, shaking his head as he read that damn pink shirt of hers. “We’ll see . . .”

As if she’d sensed his attention, Shay turned his way. Quel touched the brim of his hat and nodded. Yeah, darlin’, I’m keeping an eye on you. There it was again, always that look of surprise chased by sadness and unmistakable heat. Just like the other night, it got to him, and he didn’t like it, not one frickin’ bit. If he didn’t know better, he’d say she missed him. But, hell, she didn’t know him—and probably didn’t want to, based on his record with women. He probably reminded her of someone who’d done her wrong. Or maybe his little “angel” had done the man wrong.

Then she was whisked away by the Faithfulls without another glance in his direction. Quel narrowed his eyes and took a sniff. One taste of the air brought the unmistakable scent of her.

Not, he acceded stubbornly, a demon.

Bullshit. He took a brutal bite of the apple, frowning as he chewed. He’d smelled that she-demon the moment it came down the hill. If it wasn’t Shay, then somewhere, somehow, a demon had done a bait and switch. All he could do was lay in wait for it to make a mistake.

“Take him,” Harmony said, grinning as she dropped a wriggling little boy in Shay’s arms, drawing Shay’s attention away from the enigmatic demon hunter who’d been shadowing their tour of the town. If only Quel Laredo would go away and stop reminding her of what she was—and what she could never be.

Awkwardly, Shay juggled the squirming weight in her arms. Satan’s stones—here she was, pretending to be a child-care provider, and she’d never once held a child. She’d never wanted to. Harmony, thank the Dark Lord, didn’t seem to notice. “He’s a handful, isn’t he?”

Shay swallowed hard. It wasn’t her intent or desire to get to know the boy. Especially since she was going to have to—

“Park!” The boy strained in the direction of the lawn and play area across the street. Other children played, their mothers watching, smiling as if their offspring were the cutest things on earth.

To Shay’s shock, disgust didn’t fill her as she’d expected. Nor, however, did she want to join the group. It was too far outside her experience—and interests. It’s a chance to get the babe alone. Yes, but she couldn’t kill it here, not in front of everyone. The thought of killing it at all was growing increasingly repulsive. As soon as she recovered, her reservations—her conscience—would pass, she was certain. Meanwhile, she’d better role-play and strengthen the family’s trust in her.

“Take him to the swings, if you like,” Harmony coaxed. “Damon and I will stay here. It’ll give you two a little time to become acquainted.”

Forcing a smile, Shay hoisted little Damon higher on her hip. “Let’s play while your mama and papa finish their ice cream.” She remembered to look both ways before crossing the street—pretending to be mortal required so many little details—and headed toward the park.

The babe brought a warm sticky hand to her cheek, holding her gaze in a direct, quite disconcerting way, much like his mother. “Shay good.”

A low laugh escaped her. “I wouldn’t jump to conclusions.”

“Good Shay,” he insisted.

Wincing, Shay took the babe’s hand, holding it in hers as she lowered it. She wasn’t good. Not at all. She was a monster of the worst kind. Soon, very soon, the babe would learn the truth about her.

“Hey, Laredo, what do you think of the Faithfull’s new nanny and Mysteria’s newest citizen, Shay d’Mon?”

Quel almost choked on the cup of coffee he was about to gulp. “What?”

Jeanie, the sheriff, slid onto a stool next to him in the coffee shop. “Yup, our little fountain splasher. Hired. Yesterday. I’ll take the special, Elvira,” she called to the waitress.

Quel drained his coffee cup and rammed it down to the counter. He grabbed his hat and coat, grumbling, “See you, Sheriff.”

“Where you going?”

“To talk some sense into those folks.”

“Harmony and Damon? They know what they’re doing.”

He snorted. “Doesn’t much sound like it. Look, you hired me to look after the people here, and that’s what I’m going to do.”

“I appreciate that, Laredo. You know I do. But her background check came back clean.”

“As clean as an unemployed, midwestern schoolteacher who crashes sports cars willed to them by their deceased parents can be, I guess.” If Shay had relayed that information with her own lips, Quel would have laughed it off as lies. But the woman didn’t have to say a thing. Jeanie had found it all using the info from Shay’s license and registration. “A sweet smile or two, a pure-as-driven-snow background as a kindergarten teacher, and she goes and gets herself hired as their nanny? Do they have any idea who—or what—she might be?”

“Like you just said, a small-town teacher with a spotless record. Not even a traffic ticket. Well, before last Tuesday.”

“You gave her a ticket? Well. There’s justice in this town, after all.”

“Shay owes me community service in lieu of a fine.”

“Let me guess—at the car wash.” Quel threw the tip on the counter and headed for the exit. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m paying the Faithfulls a visit.”

“Or maybe it’s just an excuse to say hello to Miss d’Mon. There’s more than a little electricity going back and forth between you two. I’m not the only one who’s noticed.”

Quel stopped short, his back aimed at the sheriff. Electricity? He removed a toothpick from his pocket and slipped it between his lips. “The only thing going back and forth is my investigation and Miss d’Mon not liking it.”

Then he pushed out the swinging door into the sunshine, scowling as he did so. Since when had he become such a rotten liar?

In the cottage that Reverend Faithfull shared with her husband Damon, Quel stalked past a kitchen table topped with brownies and milk. His boots scuffed over the hardwood floor. His silver-bullet-loaded revolver rubbed against his hip. “Reverend Faithfull—”

“Harmony,” she corrected with her usual bright smile.

“Harmony. Jeanie tells me you’re thinking of hiring Miss d’Mon as your new nanny.”

“We already did.”

“Because you think she has a good soul,” he said, skeptical about the minister’s purported talent as a seer that the entire town took for granted—except him. “How do you know for sure?”

“It’s my job to know.” The reverend wore her pastor’s face that tried to get him to feel guilty about never setting foot in her church. Thing was, he had more things to blame God for than to thank him for. Since church was for praying and thanking, and not blaming, he never showed. The way he saw it, he killed demons for the Big Man. That should be enough. “And,” she said, blushing, “I can see things other people can’t, Mr. Laredo, just like you can sense demons. Shay has a good soul. I saw it. I felt it.”

“It’s a demon trick. That’s what they do. Your guard goes down, and they get you. Or, in this case, your kid.”

Her husband spoke up. “Demons can do many things, aye, but they can’t replicate a mortal soul.” Damon was a former demon high lord. If anyone knew about demons, it was this man.

“All I know is that I never sensed anything that powerful. Whatever came down that mountain was old as shit. I had one thing on my mind: get it out of the car and kill it before it killed any of us.”

Harmony lifted a brow. “Glad you took a moment to access the situation.”

“That’s the thing. I didn’t. By the time I got to the wreck, it didn’t smell like demon anymore. It didn’t smell like anything I’ve ever come across, either.” Not exactly demon, not exactly human.

But 100 percent woman. A damned sexy woman, too, with all the right curves and attitude to spare. He couldn’t stop thinking about how the hell stench had morphed into a hot little thing with an innocence about her that didn’t fit the heat in her eyes. His senses blasted on high alert whenever their eyes met. No one had ever looked at him with that much hunger, that much longing. Even if she did admit she’d mixed him up with someone else, it was damn unnerving. Damn arousing. Laredo, focus. You gotta think with your head not your cock. Hell and damn. Since when did he ever have trouble keeping the two apart? It was all jumbled up. He was all jumbled up.

“Shay has no defenses, Quel, none,” Harmony assured him, clearly trying to sway his opinion. “I can see right through her. There’s goodness there. She’s also conflicted, lonely. Afraid.”

He remembered Shay’s tears. Yeah, they’d looked pretty frickin’ genuine. Damn lucky he came to his senses before he wiped them off her cheek with his knuckle like he wanted to. He frowned. Quel Laredo didn’t wipe away tears. He didn’t know how. Yet she had him wanting to learn. She’d gotten under his skin, skin so thick he’d long since assumed it was impenetrable. Maybe Shay was an angel, and he was all wrong. Maybe he’d been around the wrong kind of woman for so long he didn’t know how to recognize the right kind.

Quel glanced out the kitchen window and into the backyard where the couple had told him Shay was spending time with the boy. Standing by the pond near the barn, she held the child in her arms, handing him bread crusts to throw to the ducks. The breeze lifted and tossed her curls around her neck and jaw. Suddenly, she looked sweet and vulnerable, like a young mother. Was this the monster he thought he’d find in the sports car? A woman with the face of an angel, the shirt of an angel, and the devil in her eyes. Damon and Harmony trusted her. Was he wrong not to?

Exhaling, Quel tiredly rubbed his face. He hadn’t shaved. He’d hardly slept. “I know what I sensed that night, Damon. As clear as day I know. My gut’s telling me whatever came down that hill didn’t up and disappear. Yeah, maybe it’s not Shay, maybe it’s not in Mysteria at all, but I won’t ignore my instincts. I did, once, and half my convoy got taken out in Iraq. Now I pay attention. I’m not letting down my guard. I advise you don’t, either.”

“I trust my wife’s instincts. I’ll take yours into account, as well.” Quel nodded. His attention drifted outside again, where Shay hugged the boy close as if he were her own. Quel had a fleeting memory of being hugged by his mother in the early years before she left. After that he adopted such a fierce outside shell that few risked reaching out. He never made it worth their while. Though if they’d tried a little harder, tried more than once, he might have let them in. No one ever did. He didn’t need cowards in his life then or now. He’d raised himself and was proud of it. Yet he had to wonder what he’d missed with the absence of any softness in his life.

With the child in her arms, Shay disappeared behind the barn. A chill washed over him. It was as if the sun had gone behind a cloud. He made fists, trying to resist the urge to follow—to chase down the sun. Impossible, he realized, and grabbed for an excuse to see her again. To see the pining in her eyes again. Hey, so he was being soft. So what? Sue him. If he liked the way a woman looked at him, no one needed to know. “Now that she’s going to be staying here, I’d better go and reintroduce myself.”

Harmony frowned at him. “It took us weeks to find a nanny. If you scare her away, Laredo . . .”

“I’ll be good. I promise.”

The couple sitting at the table didn’t look convinced. Damn, his reputation was worse than he’d thought. No one, not even the town pastor, wanted him near the woman. “I’ll play nice. I do know how.” So he was a little out of practice. No one needed to know that. In the meantime, it wouldn’t hurt to get to know Miss d’Mon a little better, angel . . . or not.

Five

If ever the moment to strike was right, it was this one. Here she was, alone with the babe, unwatched. Now was her chance.

Pink-cheeked, little Damon sat perched on Shay’s hip, giggling at the ducks. The idea of murdering the child and taking its bones to Lucifer threatened to make her violently ill. She’d killed men with a blink of her eyes. Now she was paralyzed by guilt and disgust at the thought of betraying the mortals who trusted her. The sensation had gotten worse over the past few days, not better.

Bat bugger. It was the blasted soul. Out, out, she chanted in her mind. Ever since she rode the ambulance to the hospital, she’d been willing the soul to leave her body, begging it to go away throughout her treatment by humans who seemed to care for her despite her sloppy entrance into town, despite her being a stranger. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get rid of it. Worse, kindness was feeling pretty good when it used to make her sick. How much longer could she fool Lucifer into thinking she was doing her job? If he found out what had happened, she was toast. And if the Faithfull family learned of her true mission . . . well, she was still toast.

Think of something, Shay. Think!

No plan beyond hiding out came to her. No ideas. No strategy. Where were those wits she was so sure she possessed? “You stupid creature.” She squeezed her eyes shut, remembering Lucifer’s tirade before he sent her from Hell. He made no secret that he thought her stupid. Vile, yes, but lacking in the wits department. Anger lanced through her, and she opened her eyes, glaring at the pond. She was smarter than her master thought, and she’d prove it. How, she didn’t yet know, but it would come to her; surely it would.

By now, Lucifer would be wondering why she hadn’t reported in with her status. Soon she had to send word of her progress, or he’d grow suspicious. Her master knew her weaknesses. Even now he might be watching her holding little Damon, the scene projected on the molten walls of his lair.

“More!”

She pressed more bread into Damon’s outstretched hand. His baby fragrance drifted to her. Babies mystified her; she knew little about them and wasn’t interested in learning more, yet there was an innocence about them, a goodness, that she’d never really noticed before. Perhaps you were not capable of noticing. Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, least of all Lucifer, she touched her lips to the top of little Damon’s head, her favorite spot. Soft, warm skin, silken curls. Her hand drifted lower, down to the babe’s fragile neck, so easily snapped . . .

No.

Gasping, she snatched back her hand. Assassinating the babe ensured her master’s future. Letting it live assured her master’s end. Kill or spare the child: each of her potential actions contradicted the other. She’d seen people tortured on the rack during the Middle Ages, pulled apart by opposing forces. Torn between good and evil, between conscience and duty, she decided the rack could not have been any worse than this.

Tiny fingers landed on her cheek, turning her head to bring her eye to eye with the child she was supposed to kill. Those gray blue eyes searched hers, deeply and with disarming intensity. Swallowing, Shay turned her eyes away, lest the little one see her purpose and her true nature.

The boy’s sticky hand pressed on her chin, forcing her gaze back to his. A year-old babe imposing his will on an ancient demon! No wonder her lord wanted the child dead.

“Shay . . . good,” the child said. “Good Shay.”

Choked with guilt, she hugged him close, burying her nose in that pile of curls. “You know I’m not good,” she whispered. “I’m a monster. But I can’t do it.” Yet. “You’re safe.” For now.

The only certainty was her demise. No matter what her decision, it would bring about the end of her existence.

“Birdie!” Shay lifted her head at little Damon’s cry. With the child cradled close, she turned around. A raven had landed in one of the surrounding trees. Even without her demon powers, she sensed something amiss in its presence. Was it Lucifer’s minion, here to check on her? Or was she just being paranoid, hindered by her new, humanlike weakness?

“More birdies!”

Several other ravens flew into the trees, ruffling their shiny black feathers as they settled in to watch her. Their small, obsidian eyes followed her every step.

The sound of more approaching ravens came from behind her. A pinpoint of red glowed in their eyes now. Subdemons. Her pulse quickened. Don’t act afraid. Lucifer will sense it. Shadows flew all around them, swooping uncomfortably close. She glanced wildly in the direction of the house. The more mortals to stand against subdemons, the better the chances of success. Even Lucifer accepted that. It was why he sent the inferior creatures in large numbers. She opened her mouth to call for help.

And stopped before she uttered a cry. To call attention to the sudden interest of the subdemons in her and the babe was to risk raising suspicion as to what she was and why she was here. She could—and would—handle this on her own.

She kept her voice calm. “Shall we go inside, little Damon? I will feed you one of your mother’s brownies.” A confection Shay had quickly become addicted to, she was happy to say. She deposited the babe in the stroller and gave the contraption a shove. It might not be a chariot, but she could steer it like one if she had to.

The ravens cawed, as if calling her back. Speak with us. The command rang in her head. She ignored them. The Dark Lord wants an answer.

“Shove it up your arses,” she muttered.

“Arses!” the babe repeated.

“I will complete this mission in my own time,” she sneered at the demons. “I will not be rushed. Do you hear? Tell your master to leave me be, or the trust I have gained with the family will be for naught.” She jogged away from the pond, pushing the stroller along a dirt path. “Don’t say arses,” she told the babe. “It’s not a nice word.”

The cottage came into sight. Seeing it, she almost sobbed with relief. Then a deep, threatening growl brought her to a halt.

Damon and Harmony kept several goats. One of them stood in the middle of the path ahead. Its eyes were unnaturally bright—bright red. It should have been calling “Maaah.” Instead it was growling like a wolf, its lips drawn back over yellowed fangs.

Little Damon pouted. “Bad doggie.”

Shay grabbed a fallen stick and turned to face the new subdemon. “Go! I gave you my answer—go now.”

With a breathtaking purpose, it clawed at the dirt with a cloven hoof and advanced on them. Shay stood between the stroller and the creature. It would have to kill her, or at least hurt her badly, to get past. She didn’t want to think about that right now. Keep positive, she told herself in disgustingly optimistic mortal fashion as she held the stick out in front of her. Without powers, it was all about appearances, she realized. She put all the menace she could muster in her face and body and assumed the stance of a warrior.

The goat leaped. Shay raised the stick, gladiator-style. A loud pop tore through the silence. A second later, the goat was lying still on the path many feet from the reach of her stick. How?

Several smaller pops followed. Dark feathers and silver pellets rained down. One by one, the ravens disappeared from the trees. Then, like a vision of vengeance, Quel Laredo strode out of the woods, a weapon in each hand.

“Hello, angel,” he said. “We’re gonna have to talk about the company you keep.”

Six

“My, aren’t we the center of attention,” Quel said as he sauntered toward Shay.

She stared at him, her lips parted in surprise, the stick still gripped in her fists. This time there was more tenderness in her gaze than heat, more apology than anger. For a second he thought she’d run headlong into his arms. A kiss of gratitude with the promise of more to come would hit the spot. No such luck. He knew what he looked like: his narrowed, mistrustful eyes and guarded expression kept her rooted to the path. “Any reason I should know about for why there are suddenly so many subdemons, Miss d’Mon? The town’s been clear of them for months.”

“I don’t know. You’re the demon hunter, not me.”

“Any prior experience with demons?”

“That’s irrelevant.”

“I don’t think so.”

“If you feel the need to interrogate me, call the sheriff and make it official.” She looked him square in the eye when they spoke, and she spoke what was on her mind, holding nothing back. She seemed afraid at times, just like Harmony said she was, but not afraid of him. Not one frickin’ bit. She held her ground, didn’t let him intimidate her. It had him aching to get her into bed. To see how she looked at him then. To see if she maintained eye contact when he made her come. When he made her beg for more. Yeah, that’d be something.

She reached for the child, lifting him out of the stroller. Her voice lost its edge. “Thank you for saving us.”

“That’s what they pay me for, ma’am.” His hunter senses were turned on so damn high that he could feel the surge of heat in her body as he took another step closer. Longing and hunger flashed in her eyes. Her scent washed all around him. It was a frickin’ aphrodisiac.

“Stop it,” she whispered.

“Ma’am?”

“The way you look at me, it drives me crazy.”

“Nice to hear it’s mutual.”

“Shay! Damon Junior!”

The boy squealed at the sight of Damon and Harmony jogging toward them. “Mama! Papa!”

The reverend reacted in obvious terror, seeing the dead goat, the fallen ravens, and scattered feathers. “Subdemons.”

“Aye,” Damon said, grim. His wife gently took the boy from Shay.

“You okay, honey?” Harmony murmured to Shay.

“Fine!” Her voice was overly perky. A sign of guilt, but she’d done nothing to warrant it. It added to the mystery Quel was determined to figure out.

“Miss d’Mon was no mere observer,” Quel told them. “She was fighting them back with a stick when I got here. Defending your little boy.”

His compliment drew praise from Harmony and Damon yet seemed to make Shay uneasy. In fact, her obvious embarrassment told him she’d prefer the topic to go away completely. Why?

Damon’s hand fell on Quel’s shoulder. “You protected my son—both of you,” the former demon said, his voice deep with emotion, with accent thicker. “You have my loyalty and my gratitude.” He gave Quel’s shoulder a hearty squeeze before turning back toward the cottage with his wife.

“Would you like a second chance at those brownies, Mr. Laredo?” Harmony called over her shoulder.

“No thanks, Reverend.” He wanted a second chance at Shay d’Mon.

She started to follow the couple. Quel cleared his throat. She stopped, glancing over her shoulder. “Woman, you ought to take credit where credit is due. You did a damn fine job with those subdemons.”

“The credit’s yours. You killed them.”

“You’re no coward. That’s something to be proud of, not ashamed of.”

She sighed in exasperation. “I don’t want to talk about it.” She started walking away.

“You want to get a drink?”

She halted. “What?”

“A drink. On me. At Knight Caps, the bar on Main.”

The breeze tossed her curls and the hem of her soft shirt. Her silence made him feel like an idiot for asking her out.

Since when had he ever cared whether a woman took him up on an invitation or not? When they said no, he’d call it their loss. Hell, usually he wasn’t ever doing the asking; he didn’t need to. Women were buying him the drinks, not the other way around. That’s not how he wanted it with Shay. Suddenly it became pretty damn important that she said yes. “When’s your night off?” he persisted.

“Tomorrow. I’m off at six. Six until . . . until dawn.”

He lifted a brow, waiting. As much expectancy as reluctance filled the new silence. Maybe she was in as much doubt about him as she was her. He didn’t blame her.

“Knight Caps,” she said finally. “Tomorrow, six o’clock.”

He touched a hand to the brim of his hat. “Yes, ma’am. Six works.” The “until dawn,” he figured, was still negotiable.

Laredo walked her all the way back to the house. Thunder rumbled distantly. The scent of rain was acrid in the air. Then the first drops fell, wetting her skin. An image of stripping Laredo out of his clothes and making love on the wet lawn filled her mind with vividly erotic images. She sucked in a quiet breath, trying to control this new body that seemed to have a will of its own. Her arousal added to the many sensations, internal and external, colliding in a vivid, exhilarating storm. All these long centuries, she thought she knew what it was like to be alive. She hadn’t known squat.

The demon hunter stopped at the base of the porch steps, turning up his collar against the rain. His right cheekbone had a small scar. A bump on the bridge of his nose hinted at a long-ago break. He hadn’t lived an easy life or even a happy life; even without her demon mental powers, she could tell.

It made her want to make it all better.

Stop! It was bad enough he hunted demons. Why did he have to look like the only mortal she ever cared about and would have lost her heart to, had she a heart to lose? Acquiring a temporary soul may have heightened her ability to feel emotion, but she sure as snake’s scales wasn’t going to let it turn her into a simpering, lovesick fool. Her weakened state was humiliating as it was. No need to make it any worse.

“Before I go, since you have such a nasty habit of attracting subdemons”—he lifted his silver cross off his neck—“use my talisman to ward them off.” He dropped the chain over her head.

Cool and smooth, the cross dangled between her breasts. She gasped, half expecting some sort of sizzling to begin, the silver burning her demon flesh, the cross shredding her, but her skin didn’t react. In wonder, she fingered the cross. This body of hers was unlike any other she’d inhabited. “It protects you?” she asked, trying to hide her shock.

“I’m still here, aren’t I?”

That had more to do with the fact she’d been avoiding him, fearing Lucifer would sense her attraction to the mortal. Now she’d gone and agreed to meet him—at a bar, no less—like a common human.

“Well, I’d better get going, Miss d’Mon.”

“I guess so,” she said.

Hesitating, he acted as if he wanted to say more. She knew she did. The intensity between them made no sense, considering they hardly knew each other. Their inexplicable connection seemed to prove what she already sensed herself. They went back, way back. Fifteen thousand years and counting. Call it reincarnation, whatever, but they’d been down this road before: Laredo as a doomed Ice Age hunter and she as an inexperienced demon who thought she could live as a human. With deadly consequences.

Then why was she heading down this same road again, knowing where it ended? This time, you won’t let it get that far.

Laredo tipped his hat. “Good day, ma’am.” Swinging his rifle from his hand, he walked away, his long legs carrying him swiftly out of sight.

Sipping a scotch, Quel waited for Shay the next day in Knight Caps. The bar was filling up. The music was loud. The fairy-goths were stirring up the usual trouble, and a trio of witches near the back were having themselves quite the party with a sullen-looking vampire. Quel had saved the stool next to him. It had taken some work keeping it empty of the shapely asses of the women he didn’t want sitting there, which was every other female in this bar.

He glanced at his watch. It was almost seven, an hour past the time Shay said she’d meet him. What had he been thinking, giving her the cross? It was his mother’s cross. Shay was a stranger. No, she’s more than that. He damn well couldn’t figure out what, though.

Frowning into his drink, he pushed his thumbs impatiently around the rim of his glass. Then he downed the drink he’d been nursing for an hour. He’d wanted to be sober when she got here. Guess it didn’t matter anymore. He flicked a finger at the empty glass. The bartender, Falon, poured another scotch—straight up, no ice, no water.

Then a woman’s voice: “Nothing gets in the way of you and your scotch, I see.”

She came. He slid around on the stool to face her. Shay wore a black tank top cut low enough to show off the rounded tops of those amazing tits, a pair of faded jeans, and stilettos with heels high enough to give someone a nosebleed. Her tanned skin sparkled like the cross she wore around her neck. She’d glazed her skin with some kind of lotion. Everywhere? He couldn’t help wondering. This wasn’t the timid schoolteacher-nanny; this was the crazy girl who’d driven that Porsche. “I like my scotch the way I like a woman,” he drawled. “Real, undiluted, nothing in between me and her.”

There it was: that flash of heat again. He wanted to press his lips to her neck where those hoop earrings glittered in her soft halo of curls. He wanted to grab her thighs and haul her legs over his hips, right here in the bar. No, he wanted her in private, hard and up against the wall in his small room. Then, when he’d slaked the fire burning in him all damn week, he’d take her nice and slow.

Shit. He hadn’t moved, and he’d already worked up a sweat, not to mention one helluva hard-on. He motioned to the bartender. “Give me a couple of cubes.” Ice splashed into his drink.

“What happened to undiluted?”

“You showed up, Miss d’Mon.” He turned the stool to face her. They sat, jeans to jeans, knees almost touching. “Woman, you got a way of looking at me that . . .” He let his words trail off, shifting his focus to the drink. He wasn’t used to this kind of frank talk. Revealing talk. Telling people his feelings.

“That . . . what?”

He shook his head. “Who do you think of when you look at me?”

This time she glanced away. “Wine,” she told the bartender.

“Red or white?”

“Roman.”

The bartender glanced at Quel for enlightenment.

“Italian,” Shay corrected.

“We’ve got Californian.” The wall behind the bar was filled with wine bottles.

Shay pursed her lips and pointed to one, seemingly at random. “I’ll have the red.”

Her first sip was a hearty one. Shay d’Mon definitely attacked life with gusto. He liked that. Careful women bored him. “You never answered my question,” he said, low in her ear. “Who are you thinking of when you—?”

She sealed her mouth over his. He almost fell off the stool. Two heartbeats: that’s all his surprise lasted. Then he took hold of her soft hair and kissed her back. The soft little sound of pleasure she made drove him crazy. His hand fell to the side of her throat, resting on her throbbing pulse. The scent of her skin and her perfume filled his nostrils along with another scent that threatened to make him drunker than the scotch: he couldn’t make sense of it; he only reacted to it, as he had the night she’d driven down the mountain. It seemed like a scent that he already knew—deep down, a memory he’d always carried without realizing it, just like he felt he’d kissed her before. It was impossible. No way would Shay have entered his life and sneaked out of it without him noticing. And she definitely wasn’t sneaking out now. No damn way. He suckled her tongue, devouring her lips like she was the best damn bite of candy he’d ever tasted in a life of savoring every last piece thrown his way.

He became aware of a roar. Not the one in his head. The crowd in the bar was cheering.

Shay pulled back. “You,” she said. “I think of you.”

“Liar.”

She blushed. “You can tell?”

“Yeah, I can tell.” He reached for her, needing to touch her again. His fingers trailed up and down her back, following the bumps of her spine. He liked the goose bumps his caress raised on her bare arms. “That will come in very useful, too, angel, knowing how bad of a liar you are.”

She shot him a panicked glance. “Because,” he brought his lips to her ear, “when I kiss you again, I’m going to ask that same question. You’re going to tell the truth this time, and the answer had better be me.”

He saw her throat move before she glanced away. The song that had been playing ended, and a slower tune came on. “I’m thinking you dance as good as you kiss,” he said.

“Maybe . . .”

“Let’s get out there, and you can show me.” What was with him? He never wanted to dance.

She sent a look of longing to the dance floor. “I used to like dancing.”

“With so-and-so?”

Lifting one reddish brow, she shot him a confused look.

“The guy you think of when you look at me.”

She shook her head. “We never danced.”

It had Quel wondering what they did do that had been so memorable. He took her hand. “It’s been a while,” she warned.

“We can fix that.”

He sensed only a moment’s resistance before she let him lead her to the dance floor. He found a place in the middle of the swaying couples before sliding his hands over the body he’d been aching to touch all damn week. She melted against him, threading her fingers in his hair. It was like coming home. She fit him; he fit her. Déjà vu. He could almost believe he’d done this before and knew just how to hold her. Call it schmaltzy, but there it was.

Shay’s body was toned and firm in all the right places, and soft where it counted. He, on the other hand, was hard where it counted, almost to the point of pain. Even harder was his ability to remain a gentleman, but he did, keeping his hips from pressing too hard against hers and giving away just how eager he was to have her.

The music stopped. They stayed there, holding each other, his lips resting on her hair. Her shirt was so thin he could feel the heat of her skin burning his palms. He didn’t know what possessed him, and he kept thinking she’d chicken out, but he took her hand, steering her out of the bar. He led her around to the back alley and up the dark, narrow staircase to his room, shoving the door closed with his boot.

Seven

Shay still hadn’t come to terms with the fact that she’d showed up at the bar at all, and here she was, in his room. They were kissing before the door slammed shut, the kind of deep, thorough, wet kisses she’d always loved and that too few men knew how to do right—and as skillfully as Quel Laredo. You desire me. You can’t get enough of me. Shay instinctively sent the thoughts. Then she remembered there were no powers of persuasion to back them up. She was on her own. Nothing but chemistry fueled this seduction. She knew little of making love as a powerless being. There was no dark magic holding Quel here. There was no reason other than chemistry to make him want her. To desire her. How did humans manage it? How did they overcome the fear and doubt?

The kiss turned even hotter. Then he was pulling off her shirt and smoothing his hands over her breasts. She unhooked the bra. He threw it out of the way. His pants dropped, then hers. And he reached for a bedside box. Protection, she thought, dazed.

They were frantic now as he backed her up against the wall. It was a blur of sensation, uncontrollable need. Kissing wasn’t the only thing that was going to be good with Quel Laredo. Of that she was absolutely sure.

He lifted one thigh over his hip. “Quel . . .” she moaned. She thought she saw a shadow of a smile as he hoisted her other leg off the floor. Then he plunged deep.

A flash of pain, a swift intake of breath. In the next breath the stinging dissolved into sheer pleasure.

“Who are you thinking of now?” he demanded. “Me or him?” He was thrusting slow, swaying just right. His eyes were dark, burning into hers.

“You,” she whispered. Dark satisfaction, even triumph glimmered in Quel’s gaze as he crushed his mouth to hers. Perhaps he read the earnestness there that she hadn’t revealed before, perhaps, too, a glimpse of her surrender, yet she felt nothing that smacked of defeat. She’d simply told the truth, a new habit for her, but one that felt exquisitely freeing.

She clung to him as he rocked inside her, her fingers grasping for purchase on his hard, slick body. No words now, only her sighs and his groans, his scent mingling with hers. Her human body was a gift. The pleasure it brought her was intense. Sex had always been good but never like this. Never like—

“Oh!” She came apart, crying out as she writhed against him.

“Angel,” he hissed, pressing his teeth to her shoulder as he thrust into her body. His peak came soon after, crashing over them both like an earthquake before subsiding into trembling aftershocks.

He swept her away from the wall and tossed her onto the bed, kissing his way down her body to where she still throbbed for him. When his lips touched her between her thighs, her body made no secret of how he affected her. She moaned, arching her back. He chuckled smugly. “Angel, we’re gonna have a good night tonight.”

They kissed and stroked each other until Quel pushed up, frowning down at the tangled sheets. “You’re bleeding.”

“I am?” She squinted in the dim light but couldn’t make out much.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No.” Then she remembered the pain. “Just for a minute.”

He stretched out next to her, his head propped on one hand, his other flattened on her stomach. The heat of his palm, the male possessiveness in his touch, made her shiver. “It’s not your period?”

“I . . . don’t think so.” Could this body menstruate? The other bodies hadn’t.

“Shay?”

“Yes?”

One, two moments of silence ticked by before he asked, “Were you a virgin?”

Hades. That was it. She hadn’t even thought about the issue of virginity. She’d been so hot for Quel that she’d forgotten all about her cover. Her demon self was no virgin, but her physical body was—as innocent and untouched as . . . that damn soul she was stuck with. “I should have thought to say something.”

“Hell yeah, you should have.” His gaze had changed. It was oddly soft, as was his voice. “Jesus, Shay. Why didn’t you?”

“Would it have mattered?” She honestly wanted to know.

“Damn right, it would have. I would have done things differently.”

Curiosity burned. She’d never experienced lovemaking where the act had been entirely voluntary—a fact best kept secret, though. “How so?”

His mouth, tipped in that half smile of his, filled her vision as he moved closer. “Give me a second to recover,” he said low in her ear, “and then I’ll show you.”

Toward dawn, Quel gently roused her from a doze of pure exhaustion. Her human body tired as quickly as it surrendered to pleasure. The trade-off was worth it. “I knew your ass looked great in jeans.” Quel nibbled and kissed his way down from her neck to the ticklish spot between her shoulder blades and lower. His heavy erection brushed against her thigh. The man was insatiable. She quite liked that. “Though I’ve got to say it looks a hell of a lot better without them.” On all fours, he playfully bit her left cheek.

She laughed then winced as she rolled over. Her body continued to remind her that tonight was its first time making love.

As did Quel. “Sore?” He sounded slightly more smug than sorry.

“Yes. A bath sounds lovely right now.”

“Sorry, angel. I’ve got a shower, no tub. There’s a new motel in town. Nice place. Maybe on your next night off we’ll check in and have ourselves a party in one of those in-room Jacuzzis.”

His words shattered the lovely spell she’d been under all evening. There wouldn’t be a next time.

Bat bugger. What had she been thinking, coming here tonight? She should have said no to the drink, she should have stayed close to the Faithfulls’ home. She’d put Quel at risk by spending the night with him. It was a selfish risk, even if she hadn’t planned on it going this far. Lucifer was all too good at discovering her affinity for anyone and anything—and taking it away.

She wriggled out from under Quel’s weight. “It’s nearly dawn. I’ve got to go.” She hurried around the room, snatching her clothes off the floor, blaming her mistake on her addiction to feeling alive—and her curiosity and attraction to Quel. In coming here, you may have just signed his death warrant. Her tenderness with the babe could be explained away as winning the family’s trust, but what of the others she’d met here? She couldn’t afford to get close to any of them. She had to keep her distance or risk the unthinkable. She mustn’t become attached to Quel, to the babe, or to anyone. Mortals were off-limits. Starting now.

She was going to miss him. She was going to miss this life. More so than the others, this one had felt . . . real. Her body did, too, she thought with another wince. Her other bodies had all been virginal. Why hadn’t they stung like this one did? Maybe it, too, like this life, was real.

The realization froze her in place. Did the soul mean she was no longer a demon? No, that was impossible.

Jeans, bra, blouse . . . one shoe, then two. Frantically she tore through the fallen garments. “Did you see my—?”

“Panties?” Propped up on one elbow in bed, glorious in his unself-conscious nakedness, he twirled her tiny undergarment on his finger. “Come and get ’em, angel.” His blue eyes danced with devilish mischief of the sexual sort, reminding her all too much of Swift River the last time she saw him. The night he died. At your hand, Shay.

Lucifer would make her kill Quel, too. She thrust out her hand. “I have to go, Laredo.”

In a move so swift she hadn’t time to react, he caught her hand, yanking her across his body. She batted at him, pushing him away as he kissed her . . . kissing her until she’d melted into the embrace. It didn’t take long at all to thaw her. She could almost taste the smile she was certain curved that self-satisfied mouth, a smile she sensed faded as he rolled her under his body to give her a kiss as tender as any she’d ever experienced.

When he finally lifted his head, cradling her face in his hands, she was reluctant for their lips to part. No one, not even the men she’d persuaded to love her, had ever kissed her quite like that. “That’s my parting gift to you, angel,” he said quietly. “A little something to remember me by.”

“I will remember you.” With that vow, a shiver ran through her. “Always.”

Suddenly gruff, he pushed her waded-up panties into her hand. “Shower. Get dressed. Whatever you need to do, Cinderella. I’ll walk you home.”

“Cinderella?”

“Yeah. I gotta get you home before your coach turns into a pumpkin. As long as you leave a glass slipper behind, we’re cool.”

“And you accused me of babbling?”

“Hey, you’re the teacher. You know your fairy tales better than I do.”

Actually, she didn’t. “Of course. Cinderella. The glass coach.”

He gave her a strange look. “Slipper.”

“Right.” She bit her lip before she revealed more of her ignorance. There were many details of being a modern human that she didn’t know. She’d never thought she’d be staying here as long as she had. She hadn’t banked on meeting Quel Laredo.

He shook his head at her. “If it takes me the rest of my days, I’m going to figure you out.”

She was going to use the rest of her days to make sure he didn’t. Not that she had many days left.

The fountain was the centerpiece of the town square. This time of night the area was deserted. The sky was growing light already. If she’d been human, she’d be greeting the sunrise with all the excitement of having spent the first night with a lover she wanted to see again and again. Instead, the coming dawn brought a feeling of dread.

Oblivious, Quel wrapped his arm over her shoulders, holding her close as they walked. “That was one hell of a night. I’d like to see you again. Though if the good reverend figures out you’re no longer a virgin after one date with me, she might not let you.”

“That might not be such a bad thing, Quel.”

His steps slowed as her heart banged hard in her throat. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know if seeing each other is a good idea.”

Now he stopped, holding on to her hand as he searched her face in disbelief. “Are you giving me the brush-off?”

“I can’t see you anymore,” she blurted out. She had to sever ties with Quel before Lucifer discovered her attachment. It was what she’d failed to do all those thousands of years ago with Swift River. Then, she’d made the one, unforgivable mistake: she’d underestimated Satan. She might not be the smartest demon, but she did have a learning curve, and she was going to prove it tonight. She’d put Quel’s welfare over her own desires. “It’s over. I’m sorry.”

Quel swore under his breath. “I don’t frickin’ believe this. Shay—”

He’d stopped speaking midsentence. Reaching for his pistol, he peered into the shadows, his nostrils flaring. “Hell stench.”

The thunder of small hooves drew their attention to the far side of the square. A herd of billy goats trotted toward them. Fluffy and white, they looked like the ones in Harmony and Damon’s pen. Glowing red eyes gave away their origins.

“Subdemons,” Quel growled. He sprayed silver BBs into the herd, decimating it. The goats sizzled and popped, dissolving before their eyes.

A shriek sounded overhead. Something whooshed past, blowing Shay’s hair. Quel took a shot. An owl fell to earth, its red eyes fading as it flapped at their feet. Even as it vaporized, the sky filled with other creatures, hundreds of them. Their flapping wings rustled like dry leaves. “Bats this time,” she said. The subdemons swooped and squeaked.

Quel hauled her close, letting her bury her head against his chest as he blasted away at the beasties. More varieties appeared to replace what he destroyed. Evil soaked the very air. Malevolence, she could feel it.

And so it begins . . . Lucifer’s patience had run out. Her time of freedom was up. The time to act was upon her. She twisted around. “Quel, protect yourself before me. When the time comes, you cannot hesitate. You must save yourself.”

He jerked back. “Woman, you’re definitely babbling now.”

“Promise me you’ll do it.” She gripped his arms. His eyes were wide with denial. He’d rather die himself than hurt her, she knew. There was only one way to get him to do as she said, and that was to tell him what she was. “I’m a monster, Quel. A demon. Your instincts were right about me.”

“Bullshit,” he growled. His blue eyes were blacker now. He was angry.

“I came to kill the Faithfulls’ baby. Lucifer ordered me here. He thinks the child will grow up to rival him, even defeat him. He sent me to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“And you couldn’t do it.”

Her throat constricted. “No,” she whispered. “I can’t.”

“You’re human, that’s why.” Quel grabbed the cross hanging from her neck, pulling the chain taut. “A demon couldn’t wear this. You can. You’re mortal, Shay. You’re one of us, not them. You’re human.”

Human . . . could it be? Yes. She was already halfway to believing it. Quel’s conviction pushed her the rest of the way. Her soul, her immunity to silver, her virginity, it was obvious. “I crashed into that wishing fountain and came out mortal.”

“You wished to be mortal, to have a soul, and it gave you what you wanted.”

A soul. The chance to really live. For a finite period, she realized. “I’m no longer immortal.”

“Quality over quantity, we humans always say.”

She laughed at that until reality returned. Her new status meant she was even weaker than she’d thought. She had no powers at all to fight anything Lucifer threw at her. And these subdemons were only the tip of the iceberg.

“Go, Quel.” She shoved at him. It was like trying to move a brick wall. “Get out of here. It doesn’t matter what I am now; Lucifer will kill you if he finds out I love you.”

For all his hardness, he gave her the classic double take.

“Yes, I love you. We go back, Quel, way back. It was during the Ice Age. You were a hunter, even then. I was a demon, but I fell for you. Lucifer didn’t like it. He had me kill you. He’ll do it again—”

“Hold on. I smell a demon.” His voice sounded a little too calm, a little too steady. A glance at his face revealed alarm. Damnation, the demon hunter was nervous. Not a good sign. Whatever was on the way frightened him. “It’s powerful, Shay. Ancient.”

Who was it? She glared into the shadows. The oldest demons were few; she knew them all. “See? You’ve got to get out of here.” Why couldn’t he understand? She knew! She’d lived this all before. “Forget all that crap about protecting me. Go. You’re in over your head.”

“You got the wrong man if you think I’m going to cut and run, angel.”

“I’m not an angel,” she screamed in frustration.

“You are to me.” Quel made a stifled groan and hauled her closer, crushing her against him. Sliding her hands under his coat, she soaked in his body heat. It didn’t help her shivering. It was like the night of the crash all over again. “It doesn’t matter what you were,” he said in her hair. “I don’t frickin’ care.”

A quiet laugh interrupted. “I’m jealous, Shay. I’ve missed you down in Hell, and here you are, once again keeping company with mortal men. What do they have that I don’t? Feelings?”

The familiar deep, lilting voice chilled her to the core. Nevin, she thought. Lucifer hadn’t sent just any demon after her. He’d sent the most feared high demon lord of them all.

Eight

With a tornado of bats spinning overhead, Nevin advanced on them, his eyes glowing red. “Down!” Quel shoved her to the ground and took aim.

Nevin flicked his wrist. A burst of black energy sent Quel flying backward. He hit the ground hard, his boots scraping over the dirt.

“Quel!” She bit her lip. Too late. She’d revealed her feelings.

Nevin appeared absolutely delighted by her outburst. “Master wanted me to see what was taking you so long. How quickly I found my answer. Our little mortal wannabe has found herself another man. Is she in love?”

“He’s nothing but a bit of sport, Nevin. You know how much I enjoy sex.”

“That I do.” Nevin was heartbreakingly handsome. When he smiled, broad and perfect, he could bring a woman to tears. And he had, many times; she’d been witness. “You always did prefer me to the humans, dear Shay, didn’t you? A real lover. A dark lover.” You want me, Shay. You desire me above all others. His commands rang in her mind. Take off your pants and beg me to fuck you in front of him.

Gasping in shame, she shook her head even as her fingers tangled with the top button on her jeans. Fight it, she told herself.

You desire me above all others. You can’t help it.

No! The compulsion to please Nevin warred with her drive not to give in. Crying out, she rolled her fingers into fists.

Nevin howled with irritation. “How do you defy my commands? You are human, weak.” He blinked, sending another wave of persuasion. Undress.

“No.” Her voice sounded guttural and surprisingly strong. How? Residual power? Sheer will?

This crazy town?

Nevin grabbed her wrist, spinning her around. He lifted his hand as if to rip off her blouse but recoiled at the sight of the cross. A shot rang out. The demon staggered backward, roaring in fury as he centered the forgotten Quel in his sights, his eyes glowing fiercely. Although obviously hurting, Quel had staggered to his feet, a pistol in each hand. The weapons and his eyes appeared preternaturally bright against the backdrop of the fountain. Did the demon hunter have powers of his own?

If so, they were not enough to go up against Nevin. The demon hurled another pulse of energy, and Quel staggered backward. Quel uttered a harsh sob and pressed a fist to his forehead. His struggle to fight off the nightmares the demon had implanted in his head tore at her heart. The emotional turmoil a demon could inflict was truly horrible. Another attack of Nevin’s sent Quel plunging to his knees.

“Stop it!” she shouted at the demon.

Nevin sneered, turning back to her. Remove the cross.

“No.”

I will take you, and you will like it. You will cry out in pleasure for him to hear.

“Fuck you, Nevin.”

“Actually, I was hoping you would do that. You were always so good at it.” His arm slid over her shoulders. He kept his chest away from the cross, she noticed. “Down in Hell, you were the butt of all the jokes. The demon who dreamed of being human.” His laugh rang out in the square. “It’s why Master never gave you the rank of high demon lord. He knew he couldn’t trust you. He was right, of course. Look at you: weak, powerless. Pitiful. It seems you finally got your wish.”

She took the cross and plunged it into his chest. It glanced off his ribs but sank deep enough. An unearthly shriek filled her ears. He hurled her to the ground, his hand pressed against the bubbling, ruined flesh.

“Mistake,” he hissed, leveling an arm at Quel. Wave after wave of persuasion and dark energy flew in Quel’s direction until the demon hunter writhed in agony.

“Stop it, Nevin!” Quel was suffering, and she was weeping. She couldn’t bear to watch. Then again, Nevin knew that. He was torturing Quel for her benefit. He’d kill Quel, then her, but before he did, he intended to thoroughly enjoy the moment. With feline delight, he’d toy with his prey.

“Nevin, please.” Choking on a sob, Shay reached for the hem of her blouse and lifted it. “I’ll do it.”

“Pretty water!” From across the square, a little figure in Transformers pajamas appeared. Dread pierced Shay at the sight of Damon Junior toddling toward the fountain, dragging his beloved “binkie” blanket behind him.

Nine

Little Damon stumbled once, landing on his padded bottom before righting himself. The town square looked like a battleground. The babe gave the remains of the subdemons little more than a passing glance. “Bad doggies,” he muttered.

Nevin followed her horrified gaze. His lips slid back over his perfect teeth. It wasn’t a smile as much as it was a snarl. “What is this?”

Pure, cold terror plunged down Shay’s spine and slowed down her racing thoughts. Slowed down everything. Protect the boy. As if she were under water, she was flinging off her heels, tossing the pumps over her head. She was glancing in Quel’s direction, seeing him pushing to his feet with shaking hands, his face pain-ridden but determined. Turning, she ran as Nevin lifted his arm to fire.

“No . . . !” Her voice was deep, drawn-out, as was each long stride that carried her ever so slowly away from Nevin and toward the approaching child.

Her focus had narrowed to one goal: reach the babe before Nevin attacked. “No matter where you run, no matter where you hide, I will find you, and end you. You will never escape your fate.” Even as Lucifer’s awful threat echoed in her mind, she focused outside herself, shoved aside her qualms. She did in fact no longer matter; what happened to her was irrelevant. Instead of the idea being frightening and terrible, it was freeing and wonderful. This was bigger than her, far bigger. Bigger than any of them. This little boy would save the world, and she would save him.

One last straining leap brought her to the boy. Sweeping him off the ground, she whirled, dancing on bare feet as she came face-to-face with Nevin. The demon’s glowing eyes had narrowed, both of his arms rising, weapons to be used on her and the babe.

“Shay,” the child said calmly, patting her arm. “Shay, good.”

She’d already turned away from the imminent threat of Nevin, intending to flee across the square. Caught in the odd time warp of slow motion, she knew what she had to do. Save the boy. At all cost, save him.

“Bad man.” Little Damon peered over her shoulder. His cherub mouth had screwed up into a frown. He pointed a chubby finger in Nevin’s direction. “Bad man!”

Energy crackled, lifting her hair and blowing it in front of her eyes. It gathered strength and released in a resounding boom. Then a shout of outrage and pain came from Nevin’s direction.

Shay turned to see what had happened, shoving tangled curls out of her eyes. Nevin clutched his chest with one hand, his other arm coming back up. Quel had risen to his feet behind him, raising his rifle as if it weighed hundreds of pounds.

Giggling, Little Damon clapped his hands together. “More!” Another pulse of energy lit up the night.

“More!” Lightning arced out from the babe’s outstretched hand. Nevin lurched backward. Quel took aim and fired. The demon’s eyes dimmed and grew bright again, like dying coals.

“Bad man!” Again and again the babe attacked, until Nevin’s last cry drowned in a resounding splash. Then, it was silent, utterly silent.

Shay let out a startled sob. “Good Shay,” she heard the boy soothe as he stroked her cheek. Everything seemed to speed up, the world returning to normal. Nevin was in the fountain, his feet hanging over the edge. Limping, Quel and now the town sheriff ran toward him.

Shouts sounded all around them. Drawn by the commotion, what looked like the entire town converged on the square.

Quel vaulted into the fountain and yanked the demon out of the water. With Quel’s arm locked around Nevin’s elegant neck, he wrenched him backward as Jeanie secured his hands behind his back with handcuffs.

“Damon Junior!”

“Mama!” Little Damon twisted in Shay’s arms, straining to reach Harmony.

Shay was drawn into the family embrace, submitting to the hugs and kisses as the child was lifted from her arms. “He is an amazing boy,” Shay said, breathless. “He saved my life, and Quel’s. He defeated a demon lord. He’s more powerful than we ever imagined.” The estimations of her former master, Lucifer, included.

A familiar, foul odor filled the air. Harmony wrinkled her nose at the dirty diaper. “A shame my heroic son’s superpowers don’t extend any . . . lower.”

They shared a teary laugh. “There’s a lot more to tell you, Harmony,” Shay confessed.

“I know.” The woman’s eyes revealed that she did indeed know. “For now, you belong somewhere else.”

“With Quel . . .”

“Yes, honey.” She smiled her knowing, enigmatic smile, the one that revealed her powers that she kept so well hidden. “Not everyone gets a second chance, Shay. Take it, and do not squander it.”

“I won’t,” she whispered. It looked like Harmony would have to run another ad in the newspaper.

“Shay!” Quel was striding in her direction. Blood trickled from a cut above his right eye; bruises and dirty scrapes marred his knuckles. Their embrace was long and heartfelt. She breathed in his scent, willing it to stay inside her forever.

“Nevin?” she asked when they separated.

“He’s being read his rights.”

Sitting near the fountain, Nevin appeared decidedly unhappy as the sheriff angrily recited something to him. “Now I’m hauling your ass off to jail,” Jeanie declared. “Get up and walk, pretty boy.”

“I was sure you’d kill him.”

“I thought about it.” Quel’s eyes narrowed at the departing demon. “Then I realized fate cooked up a worse punishment for the man.”

“Man? You mean he’s turned mortal, too?” The magic wishing fountain, she realized. Like her, Nevin had fallen in and come out with a soul. Unlike her, he’d never wished to be mortal. Or so she’d thought. “Just when you think you know someone . . .”

“My son Damon made that decision for him,” Harmony said. “He wished it on the demon, not the other way around.”

“Ha. Poor Nevin.” Shay grinned and threw up her hands. Her giddiness reminded her of the postrace celebrations at Circus Maximus. “To Damon Junior, the new champion!” Everyone around them applauded and cheered. This was one victory she’d savor. Two ancient demons lost in the space of a week: Lucifer wouldn’t be so eager to send another for quite some time to come.

“Now, I’d like to see you alone, Miss d’Mon.” Quel grabbed her by the elbow, steering her away from the crowd.

“Both of you need medical attention,” Dr. Fogg called out after them.

“Will do, Doc.” Then Quel brought his mouth to her ear. “But first, we’re gonna talk.”

“I didn’t mean it about not wanting to see you anymore.” She assumed that’s what he wanted to know. “I feared for your safety. I feared for your life.”

“I hope you learned your lesson. I can take care of myself. And I can take care of you.” His expression was fierce as he tugged on her hand. He found a quiet spot under a stand of fragrant conifers. There he stopped and turned to her. “From the very beginning, I knew you were lying to me.”

Shay’s heart sank.

“From the night you showed up, I was dead set on uncovering your little ruse, even if it happened under the covers. One thing was pretty damn certain: I wasn’t going to fall for you in the process. No way in hell.”

Shay bowed her head.

“I asked you out for a drink on your night off for investigative purposes. Then there was our hot little hookup afterward. I’d say that was 100 percent investigative, too, but I’d be lying.” He took her face in his hands, forcing her to look up at him. His eyes weren’t angry, they were heartstoppingly tender. “The woman who started out as a she-demon turns out to be a virgin. Then she tells me we’ve got history I don’t even remember but I sorta do, especially when we’re kissing and I feel like I’ve been to that little corner of heaven before—so to speak.”

“It is heaven,” she whispered, imagining what God’s domain would be like: all good, nothing bad.

“Shay, you’ve got me turned so inside out I can’t think of anything else. I can’t have that. No way. I’m a sixth-degree demon hunter, and I’ve got a job to do.” He swept her into a passionate kiss. She could barely stand up when he was done. “How do you frickin’ do that?” he said harshly against her mouth, sounding winded himself.

“Whatever it is, you do it to me, too.”

“I’m thanking God it’s mutual, because I wouldn’t want to live knowing that it wasn’t. I don’t want to live without you at all. Angel, I know we’re only getting to know each other again. I know you’re just getting to live for the first time. What I need to know is if you wanna do it with me?” He pressed a finger to her mouth. “You’re mortal now, so you have to think like one. That means waiting before you answer.”

“Quel . . .” she mumbled, wanting to reply.

“Hear me out, woman. Life is short. That means you don’t have to say yes to spending it with me.” He stroked his knuckles down her check. “But you goddamn better.”

“And I goddamn will.” Smiling, she wept tears of joy that he gently wiped away.

Ten

The ring of a phone pierced the early morning silence. Shay’s hand popped out from under a pile of blankets, hunting blindly for the contraption. For all she loved modern technology, there were times she despised its intrusions.

She found the phone and brought it to her ear. “Laredo and d’Mon,” she answered. “Demon Hunters, Incorporated.”

Quel’s body was large and warm pressed to hers. His hand slid up her leg, then her thigh. Grinning, she stopped those clever fingers in their tracks so she could concentrate on the call. “Yes, we’re available. Yes, we can fix your problem.” Hanging up, she turned to scribble the information on a bedside memo pad.

“What do we have, angel?”

“Small town about a hundred miles north of here. Hellhole. Goblins have been disrupting the ski lifts.”

“Sounds easy enough.”

“Snow and goblins? I suppose. What I’d really prefer is another gargoyle-demon assignment. I loved New York City.”

“Manhattan’s better in the spring.” He stroked his hand up and down her leg. “We don’t need an assignment for me to take you there.”

He was right. Business was good if mostly uneventful. Neither one of them complained about the lack of challenge in most of their assignments. Someday, Lucifer might try to hit them harder. For now, he’d taken his defeat, and they’d take the respite. It left her with energy to spare for her charitable work with children from poor areas in New Mexico, where Quel had experienced his rough upbringing. Shame over her past deeds had initially driven her to help innocents, although Harmony assured her she’d been forgiven by “the Big Guy upstairs.” The fact that she really did care about what happened to the kids had kept her involved ever since.

In Mysteria, she and Quel helped Harmony and Damon protect little Damon, planning to extend that assistance when the Faithfulls’ second baby arrived in a few month’s time. No one knew if the second child would have powers or if little Damon’s amazing abilities were a fluke. The town’s collective breath was held as everyone awaited the news.

Tossing aside the pen, Shay took refuge back under the covers in the rustic mountain cabin they rented every once in a while. Quel peered out the frosted-over windows. “It’s a frickin’ blizzard out there.”

She sighed in bliss. “I know.”

“You’re crazy, woman, wanting to stay up here in a snowstorm. It may be why I love you.”

She straddled him. “One of the reasons.”

“I hear wind,” he said. “And snow drifting up over my jeep. I hear my stomach growling for a cheeseburger and a beer, and my ass telling me it wants to be sitting on a warm couch watching the football game.”

“I hoped you’d have a better time up here. I thought maybe it would jog your memory of when we used ride out the storms together. The first time.”

“The first time,” he muttered. “Angel, this is the first and definitely the last time we’re camping in the middle of a blizzard—”

She silenced him with a kiss. “Swift River was never this cranky.”

He slid his fingers behind his head as he sighed.

“Quel?” Shay asked, worried.

He sighed again and rubbed her back. “Look, Shay, I’ve never loved anyone—or anything—as much as you. Every day it gets better. But when you get to talking about our ‘first time,’ I get possessive, even though the man you’re referring to is supposedly me.”

“He is you . . .”

“No,” Quel said. “He’s not. I’m me.”

In his voice and words, Shay sensed his disappointment and even jealousy. The mentions of Swift River had cast in doubt that what he shared with her was special between them, and only them. Shay ran guilty fingers over her lover’s handsome face, hoping that what she felt in her newfound heart got through to him. “Quel, it’s not like that. When I look at you, it’s you I see. It’s you I want. It’s you I’m in love with.”

“Yeah, I know.” He smiled. That smile made her heart ache. He had the patience of a saint. She’d made a mistake waiting as long as she had to tell him those words. For as long as she’d walked the earth, she knew shockingly little of affairs of the heart. The past six months had been a learning experience for both her and Quel but most of all for her. She hadn’t been capable of true emotions when she’d bedded Swift River. She was now, making her relationship with Quel a real one. Yes, there were moments she was sure Swift River and Quel Laredo were of the same, reincarnated soul, but the better she’d gotten to know Quel, the more the differences between the two men became apparent. For one, Swift River had been an open book, easy to read. Quel Laredo had been slow to give up his many secrets. Swift River had led a simple if not easy life, limited to the task of survival—his and that of his clan—whereas Quel’s survival had been more complicated. His scars were mostly internal as opposed to Swift River’s visible ones.

She shook her head. No more comparing. It was wrong. “I’m sorry, truly sorry. No more living in the past. From now on, I’m living for today and for however many tomorrows we’re allowed to have.” She poked him in the chest. “I intend to spend every last one of those days with you, Quel Laredo. In the future, when I ask you to camp in the snow, it’s because I feel peace here and want to share it with you, not because of Swift River.”

“Then we’ll continue to come up here.”

“Camping doesn’t have to be,” her voice thickened with mischief, “burger-less.”

“What?”

“Or—” Eager to reveal her surprise, she hopped out from under the covers. From under the bed she pulled a large box, then a small satellite TV. “Football-less!”

He coughed out a laugh of pure surprise. “When did you bring that shit up here?”

She joined him in laughter. “A girl can have her secrets, Laredo.” Next, she pulled out a portable grill and a cooler full of chopped beef, all the fixings, buns, and beer.

Laughing, he watched her, love filling his eyes. Shay popped two of the cans, handing him one. “It’s after five p.m. somewhere in the world,” she reasoned, shrugging.

He raised his drink. “Here’s to the good life.”

“This life. The one we’re going to concentrate on from now on.”

Nodding, he touched the can to hers. “You got that right, angel. You got that right.”

And so it was that the little demon

who’d always dreamed of being human

got her wish and lived happily ever after . . .