Date With Death (Welcome To Hell) (2 page)

Mictain, the Aztec god of death and collector of souls for Satan himself, translocate
d—
a new fancy term created by the office for metaphysical terminology and scientific advancement for folding space and time to get from point A to point B immediatel
y—
back to his home in Hades. His head still shook in disbelief over his encounter with the confounding human. Not one to usually get flustered, she’d taken him off guard for several reasons. The most shocking was his immediate attraction to her. He’d live
d—
or not depending on how you looked at i
t—
a long time and while he’d taken his pleasure often with females, both human and not, never had he felt such an instant desire or gotten so fucking rock hard just from a short conversation. Not that their talk was sexy. However, the witch herself? Something about her set off a chain reaction in his body.

Average of height and features, there was nothing about her that screamed drop dead gorgeous, and yet,
at the same time, she drew him, even dressed in her tattered crop top and cut off athletic shorts. Was it her curly mane of brown hair that corkscrewed wildly around her face? He definitely approved of her lush frame with her wide hips, indented waist,and deep cleavag
e—
a plump body made for pumping as his twitching cock reminded him. He even liked the way her freckles scattered across her button nose and complemented her pink mouth, a mouth he could imagine sucking him with enthusiasm. She also had pretty green eyes with dark lashes that regarded him with frank interest, which begged the question, how in the nine circles of Hell had she managed to see him?

No one ever saw Death coming. Well, they used to
, but all the screaming and pleading was annoying, hence the cloaks of invisibility all the soul collectors wore nowadays. Perhaps his vestment came back defective from the cleaners? Should he test it? Easy enough to do. Off he popped to the cancer ward of a hospital he visited much too often. With a silent tread, he weaved among the beds of the sick and dying, waving his arms, shouting boo even. No one paid him any mind.

Back he translocated to Hell
, more puzzled than ever. If his robe worked, then how had she pierced its magic? He’d have to file a report. Dammit. He did so abhor paperwork.

Mictain laid his scythe against the wall next to his coat rack and tugged off his work robe to hang it. He hated wearing the stupid thing. A movement started by the Grim Reaper’s
Union to change their mode of dress had gained momentum years back, but had never gotten anywhere. A pity because the damned neck-to-toe robes were itchy and hot. However, their invisibility feature did come in handy when worn to collect a soul, which once more made him think of the plump brunette who’d managed to see him anyway.

Itchy robe off, Mictain, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, strode into his office and pulled up Marigold’s file, wondering if he’d missed something.

Name of soon-to-be deceased: Marigold Stanton

Time and date of death:
20:38:17, February 7
th
, 2011

Location: Kitchen (coordinates 66:66:66:66)

Method of death: Ingestion of poisonous potion

Soul collector: Mictain

Final destination: Hell

Signed: Lucifer, High Lord of Sin

As information went, it was rather bare bones. After all, when Death came to take a person, they didn’t need to know much, just when and where. Sorting them and deciding their punishment was up to Lucifer, and on rare occasions, God himself. The report unfortunately lacked some details Mictain wouldn’t have minded knowing, such as her age and whether she dated anyone. That she’d merited a spot in Hell didn’t surprise him. Most people had a hard time following Heaven’s strict rules of admittance. Not that he cared about her nature. It wasn’t like he had any interest in her other than how he would explain his failure to his boss, Satan himself.

His hellphone ran
g—
a version of the surface cell phone powered by the souls of CEOs of phone companies. The lord of the pit had a twisted sense of humor, especially when it came to punishment. Mictain answered, recognizing the familiar number, and prepared for a reaming.

“What the fuck happened up there?” barked Lucifer, employer and longtime friend.

“You tell me. She could see me, and when she realized what I was there for soul, she stopped what she was doing.”
And then she asked me back for dinner.
Mictain kept that last tidbit for himself.

“What do you mean she could see you? Nobody sees Death coming. I don’t like it. We can’t have people dodging their time to pass on. It was bad enough when those stupid
Final Destination
movies came out and we saw a drop in accidents. I won’t stand for people seeing us and avoiding what they’ve got coming to them.”

“What would you suggest I do then?” Mictain asked
, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“We need to know more about this girl. Find out how she could see you. I need you to get close to her and encourage her to spill her secret.”

Mictain frowned at his phone. “You want me to date her?”

“Date her. Fuck her. I expect you to do what it takes to make sure this doesn’t happen again. She’s attractive enough. It shouldn’t be too hard for you to get
in
, if you know what I mean.”

Mictain couldn’t help thinking of her luscious curves and how they’d look even better wrapped around his naked body. However, reality intruded. “What makes you think she wants to see me again? After all, I did show up to collect her soul.” Mictain didn’t mention she’d asked him over for dinner; in hindsight
, he was pretty sure she’d meant it as a joke.

“You’re good
-looking for a guy your age. Pour on the charm. Wear some tight jeans. Do something. You never used to have a problem getting women into bed with you.”

That was true
. Hell, he’d had multiples in bed on more than one occasion. Somehow, though, he had the feeling bedding Marigold would be different, and he didn’t like even thinking that way. But orders were orders. The things he did for work. Mictain restrained a sigh. “I’ll do what I can.”

“You’d better. Keep me apprised of the situation.” With a click, Lucifer was gone and Mictain hung up his hellphone.

Tapping his fingers on his desktop, he leaned back in his chair. Commanded to seduce a woman who enflamed his lust so he could pump her for information, along with other body parts. Subterfuge wasn’t usually something that bothered him, and he couldn’t deny the idea of bedding the hot witch was appealing. However, a woman scorned was bad enough; a witch scorned who could see death coming... What a cluster fuck in the making.

Despite his
bad feeling about the subterfuge he’d have to engage in, Mictain couldn’t help the anticipation that lightened his step as he shopped for something to wear on his date. It had been several millennia since he’d needed to charm a woman. Should he bring flowers? Chocolate? A charm to detect poison in his food? And what about a condom? While he couldn’t carry diseas
e—
his deity status protected him from tha
t—
pregnancy was always a possibility, especially when fucking with humans.

Mictain reined himself in. All of this planning was well and good
. None of it meant that Marigold wouldn’t throw him out on his ear when he showed up in her apartment tomorrow for the dinner he’d never technically accepted.

Maybe I should wear a jock strap in case she gets violent.
Which brought to mind restraints. Hmm, Marigold, spread eagle, tied to the four posters of his bed, naked and begging. He’d better get the big pack of condoms. Maybe two.

Marigold sang and danced as she cooked up a storm for a ma
n—
er bein
g—
who’d mysteriously vanished instead of answering her invitation to dinner. Perhaps it was optimistic of her. Perhaps it was her hormones hoping to get lucky. Maybe she just hoped she’d intrigued Death’s collector like he’d captivated her. Whatever the reason, she hit the grocery store and picked up a ton of fresh food. She’d also gone to the hairdressers in an attempt to tame her wild mane, had her nails done, and, at her libido’s insistence, sprung for a Brazilian wax, which was painful enough to douse her arousal for a few hours.

Of course, all this effort would end up a huge waste if he didn’t show up. Her mind’s attempt at a reality check didn’t stop her from wearing a slinky black dress
that hugged her generous curves and dipped low in the back, making a bra unusable. While not a perky A cup, her C breasts held their own, especially with a pair of masculine hands holding them. Given her lack of upper lingerie, Marigold went for sparse lower panties. Her thong with the teensy triangle of lace in the front hid nothing, and she knew from experience it drove men wild. Marigold wondered if the hunky Reaper would react the same as a human. Just in case he went bobbing for pussy, she dabbed some vanilla scented perfume on her pubes and under her ear lobes.

Now she just had to hope he showed up and...

Warm breath tickled her nape, and Marigold whirled around with a shriek, brandishing her wooden spoon like a weapon.

Looking yummier than she remembered, the Grim Reaper’s minion stood in her kitchen with a partially unbuttoned black dress shirt tucked into skin
-tight blue jeans. His lips twisted into a smile of amusement, and his eyes crinkled when he said, “Wooden stakes only work on vampires.”

Her
pulse racing as if she’d just run a mile, Marigold put the spoon down and hoped she hadn’t splashed herself with sauce when she jumped. “So glad you could make it,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant. Now if only her heart would slow down.

“I thought about not coming.”

“But?”

He shrugged. “It’s not every day a beautiful woman asks me on a date.”

Beautiful? She dared any woman not to cream her panties with that kind of compliment. As her pussy warmed up, she ogled him, still stunned he’d returned.

Up close and without the concealing robe, her dinner date was beyond sexy. Broad
-shouldered, his thick arms and chest strained at the fabric covering his delicious, tanned skin. She dared not look below his waist to check out his package. She was truly afraid she’d drool, thus totally ruining her calm and collected look.

Screw it
,
he probably thinks I’m nuts already anyway.
She peeked down and bit her lip at the bulge that stretched the fabric as she watched.
Maybe we should skip dinner and go right to dessert.

“Would you like me to get naked so you can get a better look?” His sarcastic words
, tinged with mirth, made her tear her eyes away and look at his face. His lips curved at the corners and his eyes sparked with mischief. The man just kept getting sexier and sexier.

Marigold smiled wickedly. “I’d love for you to get naked, but you might find my kitchen chairs cold on the ass seeing as how they don’t have any cushions. But, it’s up to you. I sure wouldn’t mind some visual candy while we eat.”

A giggle almost escaped her when his cheeks darkened with color. Apparently, the agent of Death wasn’t used to having the tables turned on him. Which reminded her... “Do you have a name? I’m Marigold, in case you didn’t know.”

“I know all about you,
Marigold.
” The way he said her name sent shivers down her spine and made her sex quiver. Oh, to have that mouth talking to her other set of lips. “My name is Mictain.”

Marigold frowned at him. “What an awkward name. I think I’ll call you Mick.”
With his accent and the inflection he placed on the consonants, she doubted she could say his name without mangling it.

“Awkward?” He sounded flabbergasted. “Excuse me, but my name happens to be well-known and
, might I add, a worshipped one. I am the Aztec god of death.”

“You mean you used to be famous. Last I heard, Aztecs were pretty much extinct. I guess that’s why you started working for the Grim Reaper, huh? What with all the sacrifices having died off. Ha, died off.” Marigold
snickered.

Mick’s face went through a variety of emotion
s—
disbelief, embarrassment, and finally, anger. “You are the most aggravating woman I think I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting.”

“Flatterer. Now are you going to strip before dinner or not? Because if you aren’t, then sit your sweet cheeks down so I can serve you the best pasta you ever ate.”

Mick, still unfortunately clothed, and with his jaw tight, sat and Marigold spooned out two large bowls of past
a—
rotini noodles covered in a white sauce with sautéed chunks of chicken, green pepper, red onion, and diced tomatoes. She also slid a platter of cheesy bread on the table, a French baguette sliced lengthwise and toasted with garlic butter then dribbled with melted cheese.
Mmmm...

Mick picked up a fork to dig in then stopped and looked at the food dubiously. “
Did you poison it?”

“Why would I do that?” she asked
, taking a big mouthful and closing her eyes in pleasure as the flavor hit her taste buds. “You work for Death, so I can only assume that it might be kind of difficult to kill you. Besides, it would be a waste of good food.” She took a crunchy bite of the gooey bread and groaned in bliss.

*

No woman should ever look so decadent eating.

Mic
tain stared at Marigold, who sat with her eyes closed as she chewed and made happy noises. His cock hardened at the rapturous look on her face and he wondered if that was how she’d appear on her knees sucking his cock. Shocked at the direction of his thoughts, even if they sounded fun, he shoveled a forkful of pasta into his mouth and almost groaned in pleasure himself.

Damn, she can cook.
As single male, and a god, food wasn’t high on his list of priorities. He often ate out, or made do with quick and simple meals at home. It didn’t compare to a home cooked repast.

He forwent speaking for eating, unable to stop himself from enjoying the
food. The silence wasn’t stilted, though, even if it was kind of noisy with the sounds of chewing and the occasional moan of bliss. Their eyes struck up a flirtatious conversation. She eyed him saucily. He regarded her boldly. She winked. He winked back.

It was the most fun he’d ever had on a date
, even if this wasn’t a real date, and yet not a word was spoken.

Unfortunately, the food eventually dwindled until there was just a spattering of sauce in the bottom of his bowl that he looked at longingly, wishing he had more bread.

She had a solution. She ran her finger along the bottom of her bowl and then licked it, a sensuous flick of her tongue along the length of her digit that made him harder than a rock.

He cleared his throat and opened his mouth to speak
, but lost his train of thought when she licked her succulent, pink lips.

“
Cat got your tongue?” she teased.

“That was delicious,” he finally managed to say.

“You’re welcome.”

“Do you eat like this all the time?”

“Unfortunately. Can’t you tell?” She peeked down ruefully at her hips and thighs.

“Your shape is perfect.” He blurted the compliment without thinking, and she shot him a startled gaze. A pleased smile curved her delectable lips.

“Thank you. I take it you don’t cook?”

“Not outside the bedroom.” Flirting with an ease he didn’t know himself capable of, he wondered what it was about her that made him act so uncharacteristically.

Rising from her seat, Marigold cleared the table, shooing his attempts to help her. “Sit down. Relax.”

Relax? With the hard
-on of the century? Thankfully, he sat tucked under the table, thus hiding the evidence of his attraction. It didn’t take her long to rinse the dishes and return with a fresh bottle of wine. She slid back into the seat across from him. “Now that I’ve fed you, I think I deserve a boon,” she announced.

Mictain stiffened
, and not between the legs this time. “If you are going to ask me to intervene in your death, forget it. That’s not up to me.”

“Oh, please. Give me a little credit.
You were just doing your job. If I want to petition my demise, I’ll do so with the big man himself.”

“If you’re not looking for an intervention then what do you want from me?”
Say my cock and I’ll strip right now.
He’d also donate his tongue, or any other body part she wanted.

“
What I want is to know more about you. How old are you exactly? Where do you live? Do you have a girlfriend?” She said the last part almost shyly, running her finger around the rim of her wineglass, not daring to stare him in the eyes.

He saw no reason not to answer.
“I’m not sure of my exact age. I can assure you I am much, much older than you, but never fear,” he said with a grin as her gaze rose to meet his. “I’ve got the stamina of several twenty-year-old human males.”

Despite her earlier blushes when he complimented her, this time
the vixen licked her lips and regarded him hungrily. “Good to know,” she purred. “Now, what about the rest of my questions?”

“I have a loft in Hell
on the outskirts of the inner circle, and no, I am not currently dating anyone.”

“Excellent.
”

“What about you?”

“I wouldn’t have invited you to dinner if I was seeing anyone. I’m a one man kind of gal. Now are you ready for
dessert
?” she asked with a wink.

Mictain’s cock hardened at the thought of the sweet pussy under her dress, but instead of getting naked, she held up a platter
holding a cheesecake dribbled in caramel sauce. Mictain groaned.

“No more. At least not yet. I need some time to work dinner off.”

Setting the cake down, Marigold grinned at him saucily. “I know the perfect exercise after a dinner like that.” She came around to him and Mictain, already erect beyond belief, almost blew his load at the promise in her words. “Come with me,” she said, grabbing him by the hand and tugging him behind her.

Gone was his reason for being here. Gone were the reasons why he should abstain from getting involved. All he could think of was how quickly he could get her dress up around her waist and his cock buried inside her.

She led him into the living room instead of the bedroom, which surprised him, but then again, she had a really comfy-looking couch. She wandered over to an entertainment center. Mictain dropped onto the couch and watched her, his dirty mind wandering.

I’ll bet she’s choosing some nice music right now, something with a sultry beat so she can strip for me and show off that curvy body of hers. I wonder if she’ll touch herself in front of me. Cup those luscious breasts and...

She turned and tossed something to him as the television came on. Mictain bobbled the plastic wand and peered at it with incomprehension.

“What is this?” he asked as he watched her point her own plastic wand at the television.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never Wii-ed?” she exclaimed. “Oh boy, are you in for some fun. There’s nothing more energizing than playing a fantastic game of bowling, and from the comfort of home.”

Mictain was speechless.
If someone would have told him his date with a witch would end up with him playing a video game, he would have busted a rib laughing. As it was, he managed only brief answers as she spoke and taught him how to play virtual bowling of all things. Did she not see he had an erection that could double over as a battering ram, one that got worse every time she squealed and jumped up and down? Couldn’t she sense the sexual tension in the air? Was he the only one fighting lustful urges? When she dropped her remote at one point she bent over, giving him a glimpse of her bare cheeks with the thong flossing them, it took all his control not to rip his zipper down and sheathe himself in her.

But,
she seemed oblivious to his raging desire and much as it pained him to admit, he was enjoying himself. Marigold possessed a vibrant and playful attitude that made him smile and appreciate her for more than just her body.

She was also kicking his ass at Wii bowling. “I got a strike,” she crowed.

“And I’ve got a bat,” he mumbled.

Bright eyes regarded him with mischief. “So you prefer to hit balls
, do you?”

“Actually, I’m more of a pocket poker,” he said
, trying to regain the upper hand with an obvious innuendo.

She took it in stride
, though, and raised the bar. “I love pokers, especially when they get my hole in one.” She giggled. “That has to be the worst dirty talk ever.”