Demons Prefer Blondes (16 page)

Then to find out a woman he thought had died in his arms over two hundred years ago had joined forces with the big bad Infernati didn’t help matters much either. She saw where he was coming from, though. He must’ve cared for Larissa—or whatever she called herself back then—a lot. Knowing she was now working for the bad demons must’ve been a total kick to the balls.

She chose her words carefully. “I know you’ve got a duty, Rafe. But I have a duty too. My mother needs me.” She flashed him a pleading gaze. “Besides, you don’t know what room is hers.”

Rafe crossed his arms, his eyes thoughtful. “It isn’t safe.”

“I know!” She grabbed Rafe’s shoulders and looked him directly in the eyes. “But the more we argue, the more unsafe it gets for my mom.”

Drawing in a long breath of air, Rafe pulled her hands from his arms. “Lucy…”

She reached up and stroked a strand of hair from his chiseled cheek. “Come on, Rafe,” she urged. “Besides, you’ll be right behind me.”

“Fine,” Rafe growled. “Let’s go.”

“Thanks, hon.” With a smile, she leaned in and kissed his cheek. Electricity crackled through her entire body. Just from one little friendly peck? She gazed up at him, mesmerized by the swirling of his silver eyes.

A loud moan echoed through the house, bringing thoughts back to her mom. Spinning around, she took off like an Olympian and sprinted down the hallway toward her mom’s room.

“Lucy…”

She turned to face Rafe, his gaze stony serious.

“Rafe?”

He stuck his fists in his pockets, his jaw ticking. “Be careful.” Yeah, his jaw may have been twitching, but the shimmer in his eyes was undeniable. It was like he actually trusted her.

She threw him a smile. “I will.”

With that, she threw open the door to her mother’s bedroom. And in a flash, she wished she hadn’t. Her face drained of color, and as nausea set in, the saliva filled her mouth. Every child’s nightmare had come true.

“
OMG! ICK!
” were the only two thoughts that she managed. She wanted to lose her lunch all over her mother’s beige Berber rug.

The sight of her mother straddling a man other than her father in their bed would remain burned in her brain forever. Then again, so would the sight of Mom and Dad.

There she was, performing acrobatics Lucy didn’t even know were possible at fifty-plus years. Mind-boggling. She probably had her beat too. She wouldn’t know. Then again, maybe she didn’t want to.

“Oh God!” She threw her head back in ecstasy. Thankfully, a blanket covered her naked body. “Oh, Lou!”

Lou?

Her mom was doing a man in the middle of the afternoon and she called him by her dead husband’s name? Talk about messed up. Lucy needed to get out of there. She should’ve left already. Talk about train-wreck syndrome.

Maybe she could get out of there without them noticing. One could hope, right? She backed up slowly, not wanting to make one tiny sound. Stealthy wasn’t a word that usually described her. Then again, maybe since she inducted herself into the realms of sex demons, that had changed.

Creak!

Her foot faltered on the loose floorboard. Then again, maybe not.

“Oh my gosh!” her mom’s frantic voice rang in her ears.

There wasn’t any way in hell Lucy was going to wait around and have a friendly heart-to-heart with dear old Mom. Not now. If her mom thought she was embarrassed, she was ten times more.

“Lucy, come back. It’s not what you think.”

“Yeah, whatever,” she muttered, fleeing toward the bathroom. Instead, she came face-to-face with a brick wall. One of the most magnificent brick walls ever.

“Everything okay?” Rafe whispered as she reached for the bathroom door.

Her mom stood in the hallway, her robe wrapped tightly around her, the hair she’d done for her earlier a tousled mess. So that’s why she needed a makeover? So she could get her freak on?
Thanks, Mom!

“Lucy…” Rafe’s tone took on a calming edge, and it worked for the most part. “You need to talk to your mother. It’s important.”

“It’s all right,” she murmured. After all, she was a woman. “She has needs, just like any other woman.” Lucy just didn’t care to know those needs. “Let’s go. Looks like the hooded guy’s gone anyway.”

Rafe sucked in a breath. “No, he hasn’t.”

“Huh?” She narrowed her gaze. “I don’t feel any negative energy.”

“I’m still here, Lucy.”

Now her ears were playing tricks on her. Either that, or her mom had pulled out the old home videos. Maybe this whole sex demon thing had taken its toll. It didn’t surprise her at all.

“Lucy, look at your mother.” There was no masking that authoritative tone. It always put her in place as a child.

She swiveled around to face her mother, her hair disheveled and cheeks rosy. Gripping her pink terry cloth robe tightly, she blew out a sigh of relief.

Behind her mother, tall and proud, stood the very image of Dr. Louis Gregory. The same way she remembered him, not a day older. Was this some sort of trick by the Infernati? Or was she the subject of some twisted practical joke? Whatever it was, she wanted to retch. In this case, she had a right to.

There’s that expression “
You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.
” Lucy had, literally. She swiped a hand over her sweat-dampened forehead as her legs crumpled beneath her. Darkness took over.

Blessed darkness. At least for now.

The darkness was short-lived—thanks to her mom. Lucy awoke to an ice-cold rag pressed against her forehead. Swatting the offending hand, she groaned.

“Get that thing off my head,” she growled.

Her mom’s attempt at a soothing voice came out like a squeaky hinge. “Lucy, dear, can’t you keep it on for a little bit. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine!” She grabbed the compress and heaved it across the room. “Go away!”

Obviously her mom hadn’t heard about the new sex-demon status. Maybe Lucy had tripped on something and cracked her skull before she walked in the room. Maybe she imagined her mom and dad doing the horizontal tango.

Her thoughts jumbled and her head spun.
That’s it!
She had a concussion. Why didn’t her head hurt?

She kept her eyes plastered shut, wanting to stay in the darkness a little longer.

“I should’ve locked my bedroom door,” she heard her mother say. “I’m so embarrassed.”

“Trust me, I’m more embarrassed than you.” Lucy managed to peel her eyes open. With a swipe of her fingers, she rubbed her eyes. “I’m mentally scarred.” And not because she’d walked in on mom and dad
in flagrante delicto
, either. It was because she walked in on her mom and her
dead
dad. Her stomach roiled.

“I’d like to talk about what you saw, Lucy.”

Hell no.

“Let’s not and say we did.” If only she could have a lobotomy to remove that memory permanently from her brain. Alas, she wasn’t so lucky. Where was a neurosurgeon when you needed one? Oh that’s right—she broke it off. Not all neurosurgeons were as
dreamy
as the ones on TV. Dork with a capital D. He even had a T-shirt that read “Your Brain or Mine.” Not someone she wanted operating on the most important organ in her body.

“I… umm… didn’t see anything.” It was her imagination. Come on, her dad died over ten years ago.

“Let me explain.” Her mom’s gaze pleaded with her, like an injured deer. Oh God, that look was worse than the puppy-dog gaze she used in the salon.

She had to get out of there. “Where’s Rafe?” Obviously her mom was more than okay. She didn’t need for her to dawdle around here. Squeaky probably wanted relief from chest-watching duties anyway.

“He had to make a phone call,” her mom said, still wearing her robe.

“Where?”

Her mom blew out an exasperated breath of air. “He’s in the living room…” Her expression grew serious. “…with your father.”

“Father?” She wasn’t imagining it? What the hell was happening with her mother?
Time to spread the sanity.
“Dad’s dead.”

Sitting down next to her on her old twin bed, Lucy’s mom took her hand in a gentle grasp. “I know, I thought so too.” Tears dotted her eyelids and trailed down her cheek.

Despite the weirdness, it tugged at Lucy’s heart. And from all the crazy things that had happened since she opened that stupid chest, nothing surprised her anymore.
Dad’s alive?

Realization sunk in. Dad was alive—meaning he’d never died. For ten years, he still lived while Mom and she mourned.

“Why?” Anger and frustration swirled insider. Why in the hell did he do that to his family?

“Your father should explain.” She brushed a wisp of hair from Lucy’s cheek.

Controlling her snort, Lucy propped herself up on the pillows. “I’d love to hear why he abandoned us.”

“Lucia Anne Gregory, is that any way to speak of your father?” Her expression stricken, her mother grasped her chest as if she’d slid a dagger through her heart and twisted it. “Your father has a good explanation.”

She crossed her arms. “The old ‘I’m a member of a secret government organization and had to go under deep cover for the last ten years’ excuse won’t cut it. Hollywood’s overplayed that story line.”

“That’s not it,” her mom ground out. She’d never seen her mother so angry. Even when she had dropped med school.

“The ‘I witnessed a serious crime and had to go into witness protection’ angle is washed up too.” There wasn’t any excuse that would appease her. Her dad had disappointed her—big time. Even getting grounded off the Nintendo for a week didn’t compare. Sure, going a week without Super Mario Brothers was hell, but she probably deserved it. But they didn’t deserve this.

It hurt more that he’d chosen to abandon them on her big day—the day she became cosmetologist. The Coif Academy of Cosmetology took graduation very seriously. Being the top beauty school in the area, they had a right to. Lucy didn’t like to brag, but she was the top student, as her instructors always pointed out. She was asked to give a speech. She hated speeches—still did. Just the mention of public speaking would send her running in terror. Dad promised to be there, to cheer her on.

He never showed. Lucy was devastated. It was the first time in her life her dad had promised and not delivered. Even her mom, as adamant as she was, came to the ceremony.

“Maybe he had to work late. He’s a surgeon, you know,” her mom had said, emphasizing the word surgeon. “Maybe something came up.” As if her graduation weren’t important. But that was the past, and she didn’t want to dwell on it, at least not where her mother was concerned. They’d turned a new leaf.

Later that night, they received the call. Her dad was in an accident. He lost his control of his car and slid into a tree. According to the police report, he died instantly.

Lucy ground her teeth.
Instantly, my ass.

A tear dripped from her mom’s cheek and onto Lucy’s pillow. It was too much. “Fine, I’ll listen to whatever he has to say.” She jutted her chin up, her gaze stern as she tried to channel Rafe. She failed miserably. “But I can’t guarantee I’ll be forgiving.”

“Why are you always so stubborn?” her mom muttered, shaking her head.

Lucy shrugged then brushed a tear from her mom’s cheek. She was just as much a victim as she was. “I learned from the best.”

Her mom gathered her in her arms like she was that ten-year-old girl she used to love. Heck, she still loved her. “I warned him it would get him in trouble.”

“Who says I was talking about Dad?” Lucy said kissed her mother’s cheek. It was as if they were a family again. Anger boiled again. Had her father not left, they never would have stopped being a family.

Lucy tensed in her mom’s arms, and she felt it. Moms were smart like that. “Lucy, please?”

“Like I said, I’ll let him speak his piece.” She withdrew from their embrace. “Aren’t you at all upset?”

“I’m just thrilled to…” Her mom’s cheeks grew rosy pink. “Spend time with him again.”

I’ll bet.
However, despite the anger and frustration, seeing him again did give her joy. She wouldn’t divulge that information to anyone—not until she found out what was going on.

“That makes sense,” Lucy said, pulling herself up.

Her mom grabbed her shoulder. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

You have no idea.
“For the gazillionth time, I’m fine. The shock’s worn off.” No lie there. She was more than ready to talk to her Dad. And hopefully, Rafe remained near to keep her in check.

“Let me go with you.” Her mom flashed that patented puppy-dog gaze, as a hopeful smile swept across her face. “Please?”

Thank goodness Lucy was immune to her pleading gazes. Bounding from the bed, she offered her mom a comforting pat on her shoulder. “I need to do this alone.”

***

Her mom surprisingly relented. Not without a long emotional waterworks session, though. She was strong. She’d eventually understand and get over it. Lucy paced in front of the stairs, not wanting to make too dramatic an entrance. How lame!

Maybe she was just biding her time. Maybe she was scared. Regardless, she didn’t look forward to standing face-to-face with the man who supposedly faked his death to do God knows what for ten years. Was it a coincidence that all of a sudden he was back
after
she opened the chest?

Maybe the angels up in heaven—she snorted—sent him back to protect her mother and her. Funny as that sounded, the creepy caped guy had literally vanished. Maybe her father had saved their lives.

“Why am I giving him the benefit of the doubt?” She shook her head in frustration.

“He’s your father, that’s why.” Rafe glanced up from the steps, his silver eyes sparking. “And you love him.”

“Ugh,” Lucy blew out beneath her breath. “How’d you know I was here?”

Lips rolling against each other, Rafe sprinted up the steps and offered her his arm. “I… ahh… heard the door close.”

Arching a brow, she took his proffered arm, feeling like a Hollywood starlet making her Oscar debut on the arm of a sexy model. All that was missing were those toe-breaking stilettos and a skimpy, wardrobe-malfunction-inducing dress.

Nah! That was more up Serah’s alley… the shoes, at least. It was nice being escorted, nonetheless.

Wait one minute!

Why was she being escorted? She wasn’t getting married, and she was too old for the senior prom. She wasn’t a toddler. She knew how stairs worked. She might have fainted, but with her new super-sexy powers, she was fully recovered.

“Why so chivalrous?”

Arm flexing against hers, Rafe shrugged. “I’m almost five hundred years old, remember?”

“Should you be saying that out loud?” She angled her gaze toward the entrance to the living room. “Daddy’s down there.”

Rafe’s gaze remained firm, sending heat crackling through her. Had she not just experienced the face-melting sight of her parents getting it on, she would’ve jumped him right then and there.

“Lucy. You need to talk to your father.”

She nodded. His words, succinct and firm, left no room for refusal. “So is he a guardian angel or something?”

Shaking his head, he pulled her closer and led her down the stairs. “These questions are better left for your father.”

Despite the gruffness of his words, his touch remained gentle. Even when she was an inconvenient duty. It warmed her… made her feel alive.

She turned to face him, almost falling into the silver pools of his gaze. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, his voice again emotionless and distant. He led her to her mom’s paisley print sofa and patted the cushion. “You’ll want to sit, Lucy.”

She raised her chin. “No thanks. I prefer to stand.” To meet her father eye-to-eye, of course.

“I’ll sit instead.” With an odd spark in his gaze, Rafe tugged off his coat and slunk down into the khaki recliner next to the couch, the cushion caving beneath his muscled body. Stretching his legs out, he leaned back and blew out a long breath. Like he was relaxed.

What the heck?
Maybe he’d knocked down a few brewskies with her dad. He’d always been a smooth talker.

“So my mom says he has a good reason for what he did.” Pulling her sweater sleeves up to her elbows, she leaned against the arm of the couch. “Has he tried to schmooze you too?”

“I’d rather let him explain it.” Rafe’s gaze, even though intense, had a calming effect. “But it is very interesting.”

Yep, her dad still had it. He’d managed to reel in the ever so stoic Rafael Deleon. What a feat. Her father could sweet talk a demon. A powerful one, at that.

Sweet talk a demon
, her mind echoed. A lump filled her throat as the temperature in the room lowered by ten degrees. She refused to dwell on that explanation. She tugged at her sweater and shook her head.

She turned to face the cold draft of air. Standing before her was the apparition, swimming in a mass of gray cloak, the dark hood covering most of its face. It floated there, as if on its own invisible cloud. The familiar scent of musk and sandalwood wafted in the air. Where was Dad?

“So how can I help you, creepy cloaked guy?” she crossed her arms and raised her chin. “If you’re trying to scare me, it’s not working.”

The cloaked figure raised its arms, its hands translucent. This thing took creepy to the extreme. She slid a gaze toward Rafe, who sat calm and still as a rock. Some bodyguard.

Pulling its hood down off its head, the apparition solidified in front of her. Sandy blond hair peeked from beneath the hood as greenish amber eyes sparked. His lips curved into a wide beaming smile, her father stood tall with arms opened wide to embrace her. What in the hell?

“Lucia, please. I missed you.”

The floating caped figure was
her dad
? No way! Like she was on a soap opera adequately named
Demons of Our Lives
.

No! No! No!

With a shake of her hand, a deep chuckle rumbled from her mouth. “Wait just a minute. You’re telling me that you’re a demon?”

“Lucy,” Rafe whispered, reaching for her arm.

She yanked it from his grasp. Pacing in front of the couch, she shook her head. She turned a sidelong glance toward Rafe. His jaw twitched and his silver eyes swirled gray. She’d noticed that expression before—when they talked about Larissa and her multiple personas. Frustration and hurt.

Ahh hell.
Look what she’d done now.

“Sorry, but I don’t understand,” she mumbled, turning to face her dad. No longer translucent and now dressed in khaki chinos and his favorite blue check shirt, he stood there looking more regal than ever. “So you’re the one who made me this way?”

A wry smile spread across his face. “Quite an accomplishment, don’t you think?” His words, thickened by a deep Italian accent, danced in her ears. Accent? What else was he hiding?

“Fake accent, huh?”

Her dad blinked and his jaw clenched. He had the audacity to look affronted? “My accent is real.”

Of course. But she’d promised that she would let him speak, and she wasn’t one to renege on a promise. “That’s some trick.”

“I was born in Sumer but spent much of my life with the Etruscans. As the centuries change and humans evolved, so did my voice.”

Whoa! Dad was old. She shook her head. Don’t fall for his story, her mind screamed. “You’re always full of good explanations, aren’t ya?”

“Lucy…” Rafe’s silvery gaze sparked in warning.

She threw her hands up in exasperation. “What? I don’t have a right to be pissed?”