How to Seduce an Angel in 10 Days (5 page)

CHAPTER FIVE

Gypsies, Tramps, and Thieves

“I
almost killed my sister after you left last night, demon.” Emilian Grey ran his fingers through his platinum hair and glowered at Ethelred. Who, in turn, sighed at the overwrought drama of it all.

Emilian Grey was a werewolf, with a twin sister who had escaped the curse that plagued him. He was also Ethelred’s latest assignment.

Ethelred continued to drum his fingers on the table in the tiny trailer. “And how is this
my
problem, Princeling?” he replied in his standard
un
affected tone. “You didn’t sign the contract and I was busy.” Busy dealing with Tally when he should have been handling this mess. Because Ethelred was very affected. The gypsy prince’s problem was, in fact, Ethelred’s problem. One that he needed to handle before the Big Boss found out about it, if he didn’t know already.

Emilian Grey was cursed. A gypsy cursed by his own mother. Ethelred could get around that. He was a Crown Prince of Hell, after all, but there was a tide of magick and power that was this prince’s birthright—a mantle of evil. Emilian Grey was the bastard son of Michael Grigorovich, a very bad man whom Ethelred had worked the long con on. Michael’s soul belonged to him for eternity, but it hadn’t been because Hell wanted him. The Big Boss and the Bigger Boss had both agreed he needed to be imprisoned for the good of the world.

And all the dark power that had made Michael a danger to this plane of existence waited in the wings for Emilian’s taking. Ethelred should have handled this when he’d made his father’s contract, by eliminating the stockpile of black magick in Grigorovich blood. He would have, too, if he’d known about Emilian.

Ethelred turned his head slowly to the window, sensing another presence. “There’s someone outside.”

Emilian nodded, lifting his nose to the air like an animal. “It’s Luminista. My sister.”

“What, is she babysitting? Tell her to kick rocks.”

“She thinks you’re going to cheat me.” The gypsy prince smiled bitterly.

“I don’t want my brother to go to Hell for trafficking with your sort,” Luminista snarled as she pushed through the flimsy door.

“Ah, yes. The road to Hell is indeed paved with good intentions,” Ethelred agreed. “And yet, I don’t see you offering to take this curse from your dearest twin.” Oh, how he loved to stir the pot.

“And then put that guilt on his shoulders, too? That would torture him more than bearing the curse himself,” she said as she flopped into the plastic-covered chair with a decided lack of grace.

Ethelred had to admit they were both beautiful, a matched, tragic set—white-blond hair, pale steel eyes, and lovely alabaster skin. He’d been tempted to make sex part of the Deal, but with Cupid’s sodding curse, that was out. Ethelred, in love? Bah. He didn’t have time for that nonsense and more important, he didn’t want it. He’d seen the wages of Love on humanity and the cost was too dear. Much, much too dear. He wanted no part of it.

“So, Princess. Why aren’t you cursed?”

“Does that matter?” Luminista answered him.

“Everything matters.”

The twins looked at each other for a long moment and Emilian nodded. “Tell him. He’s our only hope.”

Ethelred was used to this kind of scene. Most people didn’t summon a demon if they had any other reasonable option.

“Because my mother didn’t know about me. I wasn’t breathing and the midwife didn’t tell her I’d been born.”

Ethelred eyed her carefully. “There’s more. Tell me all of it. Unless you don’t want my help.”

“I was dead. And born with a caul.”

If Ethelred had been by himself, he would’ve indulged himself in a full-blown tantrum. He didn’t know any way around this. If he negated the prince’s curse, Luminista would become the heir and they’d still be in the same canoe up shit creek.

The gypsy prince looked up at him, his eyes full of something Ethelred couldn’t and didn’t want to name. There was a set determination in the lad’s mouth. He looked much older than his twenty years. “What if I die?”

“No!” Luminista cried.

“No matter, Princeling. Then your sister will be cursed. There is great magick in your curse. It’s not all bad.” No, not all. Just ninety-nine percent of it. He sighed. “I don’t think we’ll be able to sign your contract today, after all.”

“What? I’m sorry I didn’t sign. I’ll do it, I’ll sign right now. Just help me save Luminista.”

“No, boy. I’m not trying to punish you. I just don’t know if I can help you and it would be bad for business to make a contract I couldn’t fulfill.”

“Look, demon—” Luminista stood, her hands on her hips. “You don’t have to play hardball with us. We’ll give you whatever you want.”

The fine hairs on the back of his neck stood up, but Ethelred didn’t notice as his demonic wheels began to churn around that statement: whatever you want. It really was the most dangerous phrase to utter to anyone Infernal.

“How about you resurrect my mother and let her have the curse? Who is she to decide who suffers?” There was a metallic edge of desperation in his voice.

“She was a hot-tempered gypsy woman. Curses fly out of their mouths the same as breathing.” Ethelred sighed. “I once knew a gypsy woman who cursed her lovers in her sleep.” When she’d tried to curse
him,
it hadn’t gone over so well.

“Why didn’t she curse Grigorovich instead? I’m
her
son, too,” Emilian asked softly.

“We could ask her if you like. I’m sure she’s in Hell for cursing you,” Ethelred offered helpfully. “Maybe we could get her to rescind the curse—I’m not sure though because it was uttered during a time of great unhappiness. Sadness is like Infernal glue.”

“I don’t wish that on her.” Emilian looked up at the demon, his eyes full of despair.

“Of course, you don’t. Hell is subjective. It’s guilt that tortures her.” Ethelred rolled his eyes.

“Can I save her? I can’t save myself. Maybe I could do something for someone. Something to make up for this evil I’ve loosed in the world by breathing.”

“That’s a little overdramatic, don’t you think?” Ethelred asked lightly. Everything with these gypsies was overdramatic. Although, he had to admit this curse was kind of a bitch.

“Is it? I can’t see any end to this, any answer.” Emilian ducked his head into the safety of his folded arms.

“If you’re so sure there isn’t one, then there isn’t,” Ethelred answered. This was a tangle, to be sure, but Ethelred had been crafting contracts for millennia. If anyone could find a way around this, Ethelred knew he could. Even if it meant taking it to the Powers That Be.

“That doesn’t make any sense, demon,” Emilian roared.

“So, now you want to save Mom, too? What about Grigorovich, shall we add him to the list?” He snickered. “I made his deal, you should know.”

Emilian’s eyes lightened to a caramel, then to a uric yellow as the change hovered over him. His nostrils flared, seeking the scent of fear.

“Stop that. I’m not into bestiality.” Ethelred slapped him on the nose as if he were a naughty puppy. Then he inspected his hand for werewolf snot and, finding some, wiped it off on his slacks. “If Grigorovich was sorry for what he did to your mother, would you forgive him?”

“No,” Emilian confessed.

“Even if your forgiveness will break the curse?”

“Will it?” Emilian blinked, hope shining from him.

Ethelred almost hated to answer. Almost. “I don’t know. I just wanted to see what you’d say.” Ethelred shrugged. “Anyway, I have to get the Big Boss in on this, maybe even the Bigger Boss. I hate these bipartisan deals, but we do what we must.”

What he really had to do was research. He wasn’t saying shit to the Big Boss or the Bigger Boss if he could help it. Ethelred could handle this himself.

He stood and smoothed his slacks. “I’ll be in touch, Princeling. For now, secure yourself in those blessed silver chains. I’ll be back with a contract as soon as I have a solution.”

Ethelred stepped outside, the RV shifting with the change in weight as Luminista followed him.

“Can I talk to you?” she hissed from behind.

“I don’t know, can you?” He knew it was an old and overused retort, but he never got tired of it.

“Yes, I can. Glad you see it my way.” She grabbed hold of his sleeve and dragged him toward a copse of trees.

“Hey, watch the threads, Princess. Just because you live like a guttersnipe doesn’t mean I do.”

“Ah, so your true colors are out, demon.”

He smirked. “I’ve never hidden my
colors,
as you call them, Princess.” Ethelred watched her for a moment. “I’m a demon. What part of that wasn’t obvious?”

“Just because demon starts with a ‘d’ doesn’t mean you have to be a dick, too.”

“Your little fangs are precious, but sharpen them on someone else. I’m on a schedule.” She reminded him of some socialite’s purse dog, yipping and snapping at everything that came too near.

“Of course, you are. Look,” she began, but pursed her lips. “I know we don’t have much to offer you in trade for your services. We’re poor, financially and spiritually. But I will do absolutely anything to save my brother. Do you understand what I’m saying to you? What I’m offering?”

Ethelred’s neck prickled again and he was tempted to slap it. He wondered if it was some demonic mosquito the Big Boss had sent to fuck with him.

He knew the moment hellfire blazed in his eyes because the princess flinched, but he was pleased to see that she didn’t back down. “I think the more appropriate question would be do
you
understand what it is that you’re offering and to whom you’re offering it?”

She straightened and pulled herself up to her full height, which was rather tall for a female. The brash princess lifted her chin. “I do.”

Luminista wasn’t as spiritually bankrupt as she believed. Her sacrifice for her brother was sweet and pure. It made him itch to corrupt her.

“You have strong magick. What if I wanted that?”

“Take it.”

“Hmm.” His schedule be damned. This was fun. Ethelred reached out one finger and ghosted it down the side of her cheek. She didn’t flinch, but her spine stiffened and he smiled with the toothy joy of a predator. “Anything?”

“Anything, demon. Stop playing with us.”

“But Luminista,” he admonished. “What if that’s what I want from you? To play? To raise your hopes and crush them? To give a little, but take everything? I’m a Crown Prince of Hell. Do you think I attained my status by being kind or giving handouts to poor little gypsy trash?”

Something inside him ruptured at those words. Something he’d never felt before. Her eyes watered, almost like she was going to cry and he felt . . .

Unwell.

“Fine. Then you can have that, too. Whatever it takes to save my brother.”

That cold prickle on the back of his neck had sharpened into a stabbing sensation. Ethelred froze. Something wasn’t right. Were those the twinges of regret? Oh, this didn’t bode well at all.

“I read in my mother’s journals that many witches attained great power by making deals with demons. Deals of the flesh.” Luminista began working her fingers over the buttons of her shirt.

“Take it back!” he growled.

“What? Take what back?” she asked, desperation in her voice.

“Your
proposition
!” Ethelred demanded.

Her hands stilled. “You don’t want me? I don’t have anything else to trade, Ethelred.”

“I don’t want you to trade anything. Take it back! Right now!”

“Will you make the deal if I do?”

“I already said I would. You weren’t listening. Damn it, take it back!” By the light in her eyes, he realized his mistake. He’d played his hand. He’d shown her a chink in his armor by letting her hear the urgency in his voice. Fuck it, she was desperate; well, so was he. “You don’t understand. I have my own curse to deal with. I pissed Cupid off last night and the first person to proposition me . . . I will love.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Oh, really?”

“You don’t want the love of a demon. It’s a bad, bad thing.”

She licked her lips, and Ethelred knew she saw this as the answer to all of her problems. “If you love me, you’ll take care of me and my brother.”

Panic bloomed. “Or I’ll destroy your brother because he’s the only thing you’d ever love more than me. Love with demons isn’t love. I’m not even into women right now. It’s—Just take it back. I said I’d help you, you awful creature.”

“No, I don’t think so. In fact, just for good measure—”

He clamped a hand over her mouth, but she bit him.

Rather than let go, he found he liked it. The sensation went straight to his cock. “Harder, Princess,” he growled.

Lightning exploded all around them and suddenly, Luminista wasn’t fighting him anymore; she clung to him.

“Look, Uriel wants you to take it back, too.”

To her credit, she released him. “I don’t care. There is nothing and no one worth my brother’s freedom. Not you, not Uriel, no one. So he can suck it. I don’t take it back. You will love me, Ethelred.”

And to his supreme disgust, he found he did.

Or he’d eaten bad sushi.

CHAPTER SIX

Confounded Cupidity

Y
es , Tally thought for the millionth time, the Powers That Be were trying to kill her.

No magick? She was already in Hell. Tally had never been without her magick. Some witches didn’t get their power until puberty, but Tally had been flush with magick since birth. She’d even had to wear a diminishing bracelet in Academy so her power didn’t outstrip her tutors’.

Now, nothing. The hardest part was that she could still feel it, tingling at the edges of her awareness begging to get out. It hadn’t been reliable since the great and terrible evil incident, that was true, but to be forbidden to do something that came as naturally as breathing?

Sheer Hell.

Not even house hunting with an infinite budget had helped.

Okay, so it had helped a little, but only a very little. Tally had to live in the mortal realm. How was she supposed to do that? What was that supposed to teach her? Killing people was bad? She knew that. To be thankful for her magick? She always had been. No, this wasn’t to learn a lesson; it felt more like punishment.

That she supposed she deserved.

It hadn’t taken her long to choose a house. If she had to suffer, she might as well do it with a view. She chose a large, hacienda-style home that perched on the ’Tween Waters on Captiva Island in Florida. Walking those pretty beaches had been the last good memory she had of her mother.

There was no place better for peace and introspection than the beach.

The warm Gulf breeze on her face did nothing to dispel the sensation that her angelic and demonic parole officers were both plotting her doom. The demon, sad chaperone that he was, was absent, and Falcon looked just as good, just as forbidden as ever.

She wasn’t going to make it.

Tally kept reminding herself of what Falcon had said after she passed out. He didn’t want the girl. So, why couldn’t she leave it alone? She almost wished that he hadn’t used his magick to unpack her belongings. Then she’d have something to do with her hands, busywork for her brain, rather than picking everything between them to death.

She couldn’t deny that even after everything, she still wanted him. Maybe he could shoot her with an anti-lust arrow? Tally would ask him, if only she didn’t have to admit she still lusted after him to get the damn thing.

Falcon had already moved his things in. They were going to watch a movie tonight. What did that have to do with being on parole? The Powers didn’t move in mysterious ways; they moved in stupid ways.

It was like the whole system was designed so she’d fail.

She repeated that thought to herself again. Then she whispered it aloud. Tally knew no matter Falcon’s faults, he didn’t want bad things for her. He’d always been honest and he said he wanted her to succeed, so this didn’t make any sense to her at all.

Tally turned her back on the amazing view and retreated to her bedroom, looking for her granny knickers. Those things were better than any chastity belt. She wouldn’t be showing her witchy bits to anyone in those.

But she knew it was just postponing the inevitable. She and Falcon had already crossed the line, and while he didn’t want her as a partner, he wanted her body. And that’s what she wanted from him.

“Shut up!” she hissed to herself. That devilish voice in her head sounded too much like her own desire. If it had been Ethelred’s, she could have done a better job of ignoring it. If she had too much time alone in her own head, she’d convince herself that shagging Falcon was Fate and beyond her control.

It’s what was going to happen anyway. She’d advised Middy to get it over with and shag the hell out of Dred Shadowins. She’d done it and now Middy was living her Happily Ever After.

Not that she assumed that’s what would happen between herself and Falcon, but maybe they were just meant to fuck like rabid bears who’d gotten into a shipment of Viagra. It was possible.

Yeah, possible, but what was more likely was that she was still basing her self-worth on having sex with a guy she’d built into the perfect warlock in her head. In reality, he was just a guy.

Tally had done some self-reflection while hanging out on her balcony this morning and she’d come to the conclusion she was trying too hard. Not at being good and deserving the Second Chance, but at all of the things she’d always thought she was “supposed” to do.

Since her Academy days, Tally had always thought there was a certain order in which things were supposed to happen. When they didn’t, she made them happen, even if they weren’t what she wanted, even if it involved settling.

The revelation had been indeed a startling moment of clarity and it had surprised her. In her own mind, she’d always thought she was bucking the system—she was the strong loner, determined to do things at her own pace and in her own way. The whole time she’d been overcompensating because she didn’t fit in. Not fitting in was her attempt to do something the way she was supposed to, even if it was being the rebel.

Maybe this was part of the lesson she was supposed to be learning? How was she supposed to succeed if she didn’t even know what her end goal was, besides not going to Hell?

Tally didn’t think she could handle ten days of this. When she looked at herself, she didn’t like what she saw. Shine-a-light therapy was kick-ass in small doses, but now she was ready for it to go away. It was ugly and it hurt. She knew she’d have to face it all eventually, but again, in small doses.

“Tally?” Falcon’s voice echoed up the stairs.

Shit
. He was back already and she still hadn’t found her granny knickers. The ankle-length maxi dress would have to do. She padded down the cold marble stairs barefoot, enjoying the contrast to the heat of the day.

Seeing Falcon standing there, his wings hidden, with a Blockbuster bag in his hand, she was hit with a sudden wave of awkward. He was wearing jeans. She hadn’t thought he could be any hotter than he’d been in the red leather pants she’d seen him in last Samhain, but the distressed denim riding low on his hips and the gun show that was currently playing underneath his UFC T-shirt gave her a hot flash. The corner of his mouth curled up in a lazy grin.

“Hey,” he said casually.

“Incognito, I see.” She smiled.

“Yeah, I figured laid-back was the tone for the evening. Plus, I can’t sit on the couch with the wings.”

She followed him to the front room and noticed he still smelled like cotton candy—she was going to have the very devil of a time keeping her nose to herself. Maybe her hands, too, because the scent was just as intoxicating as it had been the other night when he’d kissed her. Tally shivered as sensation warmed in the pit of her belly. Tally hated herself in that moment. She knew what was on the line and still couldn’t stop thinking about fucking her parole officer. Nothing she did seemed to help curb her desire for Falcon Cherrywood.

If you’re listening, give a witch a hand, huh? I can’t do this by myself
.

“You can’t possibly be cold.” He studied her intently.

“No, not cold.” She decided to be honest. “You still smell like cotton candy.”

“Sorry, it comes with the job. I can hide the wings and the arrows, even that damn toga, but the scent has decided to stay.” He shrugged his massive shoulders.

“It smells good. I like it.”

He flashed her a wicked grin and that warmth in the pit of her belly spread through her limbs.

“Although, I do agree the toga had to go. If only because of the never-ending storm of crap you’d get from Raven and Hawk.”

“I can’t exactly wear this when engaging Cupidity,” he said, pointing down at himself.

“No, but I think you could replace that with red leather pants.”

“Merlin. Don’t get started on those again.”

“Why not? Is leather disagreeing with nether bits genetic? Because you know I tried to get Middy to wear a baroness costume to the Gargoyle Masque but—”

“TMI, Tally. I don’t want to know about my sister and her reaction to leather pants.”

“Well, I was just thinking I could draft a charm and . . .” Except that she couldn’t. Not for ten days. She growled in frustration.

“What kind of pizza do you want?” He tried to change the subject.

“Eh.” She shrugged.

“You’re not one of those witches who only eats a salad if someone is looking, are you? We’re going to be spending a lot of time together, so you might as well let everything hang out now.” Falcon dropped the case of beer on the floor next to the coffee table.

She smiled. “No, you know I eat like a horse. And I always let it all hang out.” She sighed. “Do you remember the night after graduation?”

“You mean that night you’d been stealing my beer and then ditched me for Tristan Belledare? Yeah, I remember,” Falcon said as he sat down.

“I think my life would have been a lot different if I’d stayed with you,” she confessed.

He turned to look at her, the late afternoon sun casting a warm glow on his face and a light in the dark depths of his gaze. “Do you? What do you think would have happened?”

Was it seductive promise she heard in his voice? No, it couldn’t be and if it was, it
shouldn’t
be. Tally was determined to relate to Falcon without sex. He was her parole officer. Tally didn’t want to go to Hell for one lay. Even one lay with Falcon Cherrywood.

The old adage that it was easier to ask forgiveness than permission gonged through her head. She flushed and turned her back to him under the guise of putting the first movie into the DVD player. “I’m sure I would have downed a few more beers, passed out on your bed, and you would have slept on the couch and saved me from myself. I could have gone home in the morning, embarrassed from drooling on you in my alcohol-induced stupor, but I think I would have made different choices.”

“Then I’m sorry I didn’t try harder to get you to stay.” The sincere look on his face made her feel slightly guilty for making it sound like his fault. She hadn’t meant it that way.

“I don’t know, maybe I would’ve found my way to Fuckedupville anyway.” Tally turned and flashed him a smile.

“Maybe not.” He searched her face. “So that night you were actually drunk as opposed to the night you were naked in my bed?”

“So, what’s it like being an angel?” Tally changed the subject; she didn’t want to answer that one.

“I got to see mud-wrestling Valkyries the other day.” Falcon popped the tab on one of the beers, a Blue Moon, seemingly content to let her control the path of their conversation. “I don’t feel any different than I did when I was a warlock.”

Tally sat down on the couch next to him. “Is this all there is to my parole? Movies and pizza?” she ventured, not completely sure she wanted the answer.

“For now. Which movie did you choose?”

“Remember the last time you watched that?” Falcon smirked. “Raven scared the shit out of you and Middy.”

“He’s lucky we didn’t shoot him with anything more dangerous than a flowerpot torpedo.”

“Middy promised him clumpy cat litter next time.”

“She always promises cat litter.” Tally popped open her own beer and took a long drink.

“Yes, but I
know
she’ll deliver.”

Tally was comfortable now; he was just Falcon Cherrywood, older brother type. The movie started and Tally was entranced. She loved this movie, even though it scared the bemerlin out of her. Rick Baker was a makeup god. She knew she’d die a screaming fangirl death if she ever met him in the flesh. Maybe he’d do the lamia makeup when they made her biography into a horror movie.

She always found herself peeking through her fingers, no matter how many times she watched the movie. It didn’t take long for Falcon’s hand to close around her wrists and pull the shield away from her eyes.

“Don’t be such a girl.”

Tally couldn’t help it. She turned her head away and Falcon just laughed and tucked her against him.

“There, the big bad wolf can’t get you now.”

She turned her face into his shoulder before she realized what she was doing. He smelled so good and his shoulders were so wide, it was easy to believe nothing would, in fact, get her while he was there. Her hand, of its own volition, had found its way up around his neck and she clung to him for dear life.

Until she peeked at the massive screen again.

Gods, everything was larger than life on that ginormous screen. It was like being there. She’d never had the sac to watch it on warlockian 3-D. It was like being
in
the movie. That was a little too much for her taste.

Falcon was so warm. Were all angels warm like this?

His calloused hand was on the nape of her neck, her curls tangling around his fingers as if they were sentient and seeking his touch.

She knew where this was headed. It’s what always happened when a witch and warlock watched these kinds of movies. It was an excuse to pretend to be afraid and an excuse to play rescuer. It was a too-familiar trope, but that didn’t stop it from happening. Just his fingers on the bare skin of her neck sent an electric awareness through her body and she needed to be closer to him, needed more. Visions of his hand sliding down her spine, or using her hair to drag her to him for another kiss assaulted her.

Indeed, it was an assault. She tried to shut and lock the door of her imagination against the onslaught, but need battered through her defenses. There was so much more Falcon Cherrywood could do with those hands than touch her hair. They could skim down her bare arms, or up the exposed line of her leg. They could dip down past the buttons of her soft, cotton dress and cup her breasts, his tanned flesh stark against her pale skin. They could push up past the line of leg she’d readily offered and delve into the hot, wet sheath that ached for him.

His hands were the tools of sin. She’d never wanted a man like she wanted this one. Tally had never been aroused like this, already wet and aching without her fantasies, without touch. Sex had always been something Tally gave like a reward after her chosen warlock had jumped through the correct hoops, after he’d made her feel what she needed to feel.