Accidentally Demonic (14 page)

He shook his head before Clay could answer. “No, don’t answer me. I already know. Dude, that was ‘you know who’s blood. That’s why Casey’s so powerful so quick.” He backed away, one hand spread across the place where his heart once beat. “Oh, no, no, no, no, no. You gone and done it now. I don’t know what you thought you had, or who talked you into believin’ that blood could help you with your predicament, but you gotta tell Casey. If she got ‘no-name’s blood in her, I ain’t properly prepared her for what’s comin’. If she’s anything like ‘you know who,’ you better hope her human half fights back.”

Was there really any preparing Casey for what was to come? Fuck. “Look, Darnell. I’ll be with her and so will Wanda—wherever she goes, whatever she does. I’ve been around a long time—and Wanda’s no slacker when it comes to taking care of business. Nothing can happen to her if we don’t let her out of our sight. And if ‘you know who’ shows up and wants to fuck with Casey because of me—I’ll handle it.”

“Oooooo-weee, boy. ‘You know who’ shows up, there might not be time to handle it. That one’s got a jealous bone.”

“Damn it, Darnell! I was this close to ending this fucking nightmare. This close,” Clay spat. Fucking hell. He’d been so near an end to this miserable existence he’d been forced to live with for more years than he could count he wanted to bash his fist through a wall.

Now, in his rush to rid himself of something that had stalked him for far too long, he’d only made things worse, and not just for him, but for someone innocent. Coupled with the disaster he was already in, he now had to try to find the kind of focus he’d need to protect Casey until her demon ears weren’t so green, while looking out for his own ass. The monumental mistake he’d made could only be deemed careless, stupid, and bumbling.

Running a hand through his hair, Clay asked, “The still- human half of her, you think it can cancel out the half that’s malicious demon?”

Darnell’s finger wagged at him. “You damn well better hope so. I’d like to think yeah, because she’s a good person from what you found out about her, but she’s gonna have some times when she’ll battle it. ’S up to you to try and keep that shit on the down low and help her channel it for good. Takes time to work it all out. Sometimes you so overrun with the power, you figure people owe you—’specially if you was like me—always bein’ taken advantage of. You get all jacked up with it. If you ain’t careful—ya lose sight of what’s right.”

Goddamn it. “Do you think I’ve doomed her to eternal life? Is there a way you can find out?”

“I told you, man, I’ll poke around and see what I can see. I’ll call ya if I hear somethin’.”

Then that was that. Clay held out the top of his fist to Darnell, signaling his impending departure.

“Hey, wait. You still
feel
‘you know who’ all the time like you used to?” Darnell looked around with clear caution. As though ‘you know who’ would pop up at mere mention—which, unfortunately, wasn’t exactly an exaggeration.

Clay’s grunt was of eternal exasperation. “Like a goddamn ax lodged between my shoulder blades.”
For centuries.

“Look, you pay close attention to Darnell. You be careful. Bad enough you got problems. That poor kid don’t need ’em, too. If I get a heads-up ’bout anything, I’ll let you know. You do the same. I’ll keep my ears to the ground case I can maybe hear anything that can help you or her.”

Clay slapped him on his linebacker-wide shoulders. “Thanks, Darnell. I have to go—the sun will be up soon, and I’ll be no good to Casey if I’m in vampire sleep.”

“Uh, yeah, ’bout that.You give any thought to how you’re gonna look out for her durin’ the daytime, vampire?”

“Wanda’s not full vampire. She’s part werewolf, too. I figure she can take the day shift.”

Darnell winked one twinkling dark eye. “Man, yous all a crazy bunch. I thought us demons was bat-shit, but ain’t nuthin’ like bein’ a vampire. You take good care a her. I can tell you think she’s pretty, but you better leave that shit alone.” Darnell knocked fists with him before he made his way down the long stairwell to his truck where Wanda and Casey waited.

His cell phone chirped a tune he recognized and, at this stage of what was going on, dreaded hearing. Flipping it open, he said with impatience, “I told you I’d call you later, and I will when I’m settled in.”

The response was nothing short of what he’d expected—difficult and argumentative.

“I’ll call you later,” he repeated, shutting the phone and instantly regretting his cranky response.

Clay grimaced when he hoisted himself into the pickup, avoiding Casey’s pretty, round, fearful eyes. Yeah, there was nuthin’ like being a vampire.

Nuthin’.

 

 

“WELL, well, well. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Don’t be sorry, sweetheart. I’m not.”

“Um, I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Oh, we’ve more than met,” a male voice slithered into Casey’s ear from behind her. “We’ve been—
carnal
,” he whispered, harsh and throaty and way too familiar for her liking.

Goose bumps trickled along the back of her neck. “No, I’m pretty sure we haven’t.” Well, okay, she wasn’t positive she hadn’t. But the word
carnal
made her about as close to sure as she could be. She hadn’t been “carnal” in a coon’s age.

A hand, large and warm, grabbed a fistful of her butt from behind. His lips, so close to her ear they left the residual heat of his breath curling around the outer rim of it, moved in tickling increments. “
Now
do you remember me?”

“I’m probably being exceptionally rude when I say, um, no. I also hope I don’t go too far over the line when I say this as well. If you don’t remove your hand from my ass, I can’t promise there won’t be some hot coffee involved and the potential scalding of your most personal assets.”

His chuckle was warm and silky in response. Like she was playing a game with him she didn’t remember choosing a playing piece for. “That’s not what you said the last time I was behind you like this. Remember the—what was it called? Oh, wait. Now I remember—‘Bendy Bob.’ As I recall, you begged for more.”

Hookay. Bendy Bob . . . She might have had some pretty kooky shit happen to her in the last few days, some of it she couldn’t much remember, and she was definitely, guiltily, up for almost anything carnal since this had gone down, but the last time a guy was behind her with even the slightest hint of carnality was when that B-list actor had tripped over her at a party the twins had attended in Hollywood. By mistake—because he couldn’t see without his contacts and it had nothing to do with a Bob who was bendy. “No. No, I’m pretty positive I don’t remember that. Which means you have the wrong girl. Which also means if you don’t back off, a scene, ugly and very, very public, could happen right here in the middle of a crowded Starbucks full of people who just want their morning dose of caffeine minus a rather loud, possibly fiery throw-down.”

And fiery wasn’t exactly an overstatement on her part. The fingers that clutched her purse tingled with sharp pinpoints of electric currents. Oh, God. Please, please, please. Not. Here. Every single person behind the counter knew who she was. Knew her so well, they didn’t even have to ask what her order was. She’d placed the same one for the twins each morning for four and a half years. The day didn’t begin unless Lola and Lita had coffee waiting for them on their nightstands.

The unknown hand on her ass tightened its grip. His tone became suggestive, as though they’d ruffled some sheets with wild abandon, and she’d somehow missed it all. Every slick-with-sweat, hot, from-behind moment. That would make her almost a little sad, seeing as sheets and a man—one in particular—were all she could think of, if she wasn’t so sure it was the one thing she could remember
not
doing.

“I think I like this whole new guise you’ve acquired. It’s sort of no-nonsense and bookish with only a hint of the vixen you really are. It’s hot, hot, hot,” he purred.

Self-consciously, her hands ran over her simple but warm, brown down-filled jacket. Out of habit, her fingers went to the bridge of her nose where she pushed up her black, square- framed glasses—glasses she didn’t seem to need as often since she’d been turned into a demon. She’d been many things in her lifetime—been called many things—vixen wasn’t one of them. Neither was hot. Though her temper certainly was moving apace toward hot. Yet for the moment, she couldn’t bring herself to indulge in trying to understand just what he meant when he said she’d “acquired a guise.”

Who’d want to acquire a guise like hers? Boring, predictable, and so far left of a vixen, it was laughable. No matter, there were other things to focus on. Like her burgeoning lust to fry this man’s love sacs. Not quite as sudden this time, but definitely bearing down with the potential for a gale- force flip-out. Darnell had said she’d need to control her more primal urges. So far, in the almost two days since she’d found out she was a demon, she’d successfully mastered the art of not claiming Clay as her very own vamp love toy, and she hadn’t touched him once. There should be some kind of restraint award for that alone. So she tried to heed Darnell’s words with teeth clenched and her spine rigid. “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about, but if I turn around, and you’re still here when I do—I can only hope you shaved this morning.”

“Shaved?”

“Shaved—and I don’t mean just your five-o’clock shadow.”

He pulled her in closer. “I’m intrigued. Why would I need to have shaved?”

“Because if you don’t get the fuck off me, I’ll torch the everlovin’ shit out of every hair on your body! Now, hands off my ass before I—kill—you!” Whirling around, Casey glared up into the face of a strikingly good- looking man who wore a look of amused surprise.

And clearly, from the gasps that flew on astonished wings from several patrons’ mouths—her voice had risen, and that control thing she’d bottled up like a fine wine had popped its cork.

Wanda’s carefully highlighted head sprung up amid the throng of people. “Casey!” She pointed two fingers at her eyes. “Look at me and calm down. Say it with me now. I’m calm and centered. C’mon.”

Oh, fuck calm and centered. She’d much rather be fired up and crooked. “Go back to the apartment, Wanda. I’ll handle this.” And she would—after she ripped this mutant’s balls off.

The man’s eyes, a gorgeous, unlikely blue, narrowed. “I think you’re the one who needs to be handled,” he growled, the crinkle of his black leather trench coat piercing her ears when he moved ever closer. Dressed in black from top to bottom, he had a Goth feel to his attire. Three lines were shaved into his right eyebrow. Adding to his dark persona was a tattoo of a snake wending its way along his lean neck.

Casey, feeling as though she were in someone else’s skin, using someone else’s lips, yet completely aware of what was about to occur, felt the stirrings of a good freak. “I’m not sure you’ll be singing the same tune when I tear your balls off and eat them Rockefeller style.”

“Casey!” Wanda was between them in the blink of an eye—pressing a hand to her sister’s shoulder, forcing her way into Casey’s line of vision. “Look at me, Casey, and focus before you go too far. Try and think about yesterday when all the maid did was ask you where you put the mail. Did she really deserve to have you set fire to her spare pair of shoes because she disturbed you while you were watching
American Idol
? It was mean-spirited and totally out of character for you.”

Yeah. Poor Magda. But by hell, it was the only two hours she had free while the twins were holed up in the exercise room with their yoga teacher. Still, it had been sucky mean on her part, and yes, incredibly out of character for her. The moment she’d flicked her fingers was the moment she’d regretted this crazy impulse she had no control over until it was too late. “I bought her a new pair before she ever knew they were missing.”

Appeasing and doting was how she’d describe Wanda’s smile. “And that’s good, honey. Contrition is good, but your temper was what brought that on. We absolutely have to learn to control your bouts of rage. I vote we don’t make a scene we can’t fix by just going to Payless. A scene that could cost thousands of dollars you don’t have. A scene right here in Starbucks—where
everyone
knows you and your boss.”

Casey leaned in close to Wanda as though she were going to share a secret. “Fuck everyone, Wanda. It isn’t everyone who had their hand on my ass. It was just him.” She reached around Wanda and jabbed a finger into the presumptuous prick’s chest. His sharp, slanted cheekbones sprouted two red spots on his otherwise cool, angular face.

“Casey.” Wanda let off that warning she’d become so gifted at. Not the older-sister one, but the half werewolf, half vampire one. The one that said no matter how demon- ish Casey was, Wanda was still the badder ass.

And still, that didn’t stop her. “Wanda. Move.” Because if Wanda didn’t move, she’d move her—then she’d spike this asshole through the eyeball with her nail file.

“Casey. No.”

“Girls? I see our daily dose of mayhem and madness is well under way,” Clayton drawled, tilting his sunglasses downward for a brief glance at the two women.

All of her attention, all of her focus, instantly centered on Clay. His words, no matter how sarcastic, were like divine music to her ears. His tall frame, dressed in jeans and a tight-fitting black thermal shirt that accentuated every muscle she’d fought so hard not to touch, blocked out everyone else in the small space. Placing a hand on Casey’s shoulder, he pushed his way into the threesome, kneading her flesh as he did.

“Wanna lend a girl a hand?” Wanda pleaded up at him.

“That’s why I’m here. You”—he pointed at Casey—“settle down. And you”—he leaned down toward the shorter man, clamping his other hand on his shoulder—“get the fuck out of here or I’ll be forced to suck you dry—very unpleasant experience I’m told.”