No Angel (11 page)

And Jay was still there. In her arms.

A giddy high surged through her, but her first question was tentative. “It worked?”

He groaned, dragging himself up on to one elbow like his body suddenly weighed nine hundred pounds. “Not something I’d like to go through every day, but yeah, I think it worked.”

“How do you feel?”

“Definitely different.” He shifted, groaning again. “Pretty crappy, to be honest.” He looked down at her, his eyes slowly widening as realization set in. “I think that’ll pass.” A slow smile spread across his face. “Hi.”

Sasha felt an answering smile curve her lips, helpless to stop it even if she had wanted to. “Hi back.”

“So—” he shifted again, settling himself in the cradle of her legs, “—looks like you’re stuck with me.”

Her cheeks were starting to ache, but Sasha couldn’t stop smiling. “It would appear that way.” She looped her arms lazily around his shoulders, linking her fingers behind his neck. The world blurred, but she wasn’t crying. Tough girls didn’t cry. Not even from uncontainable joy.

“You still want me now that I’ve lost all my sexy demonic powers?”

Sasha grinned wickedly, rolling her body sinuously beneath his. “I’m sure I’ll find
some
use for this boring almost-human body of yours.”

“Boring?” he growled, his shoulders looming over her. “I’ll show you
boring.
”

He tipped onto his back, rolling with her and Sasha gave a laugh that broke into a ragged sigh. “Show me Heaven, Jay.”

Sasha ducked out onto the patio, hoping she’d cleared the door before her mother saw the direction of her escape. After a sleepless night shooting her way through Hell, Sasha didn’t have the stamina for yet another conversation about how
delighted
her mother was that Jay wasn’t deformed after all and wouldn’t he make
lovely
grandbabies.

A strong arm slipped around her waist and she felt her tension melt away. Jay pulled her back against his chest, facing them both toward the landscaped perfection of her mother’s Japanese garden. Sasha leaned back into him, enjoying the warmth of his body supporting hers.

“I think your great-aunt Margie has been hitting the eggnog. She just called Debbie Reynolds a talentless hack and is now doing a time step on top of a coffee table that probably costs more than your apartment.”

Sasha snorted out a laugh. “She’s still pissed about being passed over for the lead in
Singin’ in the Rain.
You’ll get to see an eighty-nine-year-old woman performing ‘Dream of You’ as a striptease by the end of the night if my mom can’t wrestle her ‘special Christmas punch’ away from her.”

“Is that what’s in her flask? I might wrestle it away from her myself. I could use a shot or two.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it. Unless you like drinking hot pink lighter fluid. It’s her special recipe, which translates as
mildly toxic.
Just don’t pour it on the plants on the patio. My cousin Elaine tried that last year when it was her turn to cut Aunt Margie off. It decimated the hydrangeas and the landscaper quit in protest.”

“Did you know your dad is taking bets on who will be the first to fall into the pool?”

“Mmm, good money’s always on Aunt Margie, but don’t discount the cousins. Eileen caught Evelyn with her boyfriend under the mistletoe two Christmases ago. There was much hair-pulling and screeching and we had to declare two winners for the Pool Pool that year because no one could tell which one of them hit the water first.”

“Why did I want to be mortal again?”

Sasha twisted in his arms. “Because you’re crazy about me.” She went on tiptoe and popped a kiss on to his mouth. “And part of being crazy about me is putting up with my family’s holiday rituals. Welcome to the human race.”

She tucked her hands into the back pockets of his snug blue jeans and admired the way the soft red sweater hugged his shoulders.

“Just stay away from the mistletoe if you don’t want to be molested by my female relatives. You look really hot in red.”

From the look that crossed his face, her warning came too late. Jay started to reply and Sasha held up her hand to stop him.

“I feel I should warn you that all bitching about my family for the next fifty years is going to be met with a reminder that your mother is literally
from Hell.
”

He grinned. “Fifty years?”

Sasha shrugged. “Give or take. I saved your ass from eternal damnation. I figure you owe me a lifetime of devotion.”

“That sounds fair. Just remember I did some saving of my own.”

“For which you will be richly rewarded.” Sasha wagged her eyebrows and grinned lecherously. “Just as soon as we get home tonight.”

He bent his head, nuzzling her neck just below her ear. “Can I get a preview?”

“Maybe a thirty-second teaser.” She leaned into the kiss, quickly forgetting her own thirty-second time limit.

“Sasha, there you are! Stop mauling that nice boy and come inside. Dinner’s ready.” Sasha and Jay broke apart guiltily as the sound of her mother’s heels clacking loudly on the patio tiles retreated, an eerie echo of Jezebeth’s kitten heels.

All day the strangest things had been reminding her of the Underworld. She’d probably never be able to enter her kitchen without remembering Jay being yanked into a vortex or having her grandfather announce she was going to Hell—but she didn’t want to forget. She’d found herself in Hell. A version of herself that wasn’t dependent on her mother’s fame or anyone else’s approval. Somewhere in the depths of Hell, she’d stopped seeing herself as someone who didn’t quite fit the role she’d been cast. No longer the reluctant good girl. No more secret snark.

Sasha couldn’t regret a single second of it.

Her silver charm bracelet caught on Jay’s sweater as she obediently removed her hands from his person. The small, silver-wrapped package holding it had been perched on her cutting board that morning. There’d been no card, but the swirl on the paper was the exact shape the markings on the Desert Eagles had been.

It was delicate, each charm beautifully crafted. An angel—complete with halo—a gun, the linked drama and comedy masks, a film reel and a tiny pitchfork. Now, as she untangled her wrist from Jay’s sweater, the pitchfork tangled in the angel’s halo and she smiled.

Sasha tucked her hand into Jay’s as they started slowly back toward the holiday chaos inside. “My family adores you.”

“They don’t know I’m a demon yet.”

“Former demon. I thought I’d save that little bombshell for the next holiday gathering. Easter maybe.”

“Sasha.”

She made a face at the reproach in his voice. “We’ll tell them. When the time is right we’ll tell them about your lineage and me going into Hell—though I might skim some of the details there. But I have to tell them soon. My mother in particular deserves to know the truth about her very own guardian angel.”

“He’s your guardian angel too.”

“What would I need a guardian angel for?” She grinned up at him. “I’ve got my very own guardian devil.”

They stepped through the doorway into the dining room and paused to take in the feast that made the tables groan under its weight. Her mother’s chef had outdone himself.

“Sasha! Jay!” Layla Christian bounced on the balls of her feet and clapped her hands excitedly. “You’re under the mistletoe!”

This from the woman who demanded I stop mauling him.
Sasha rolled her eyes, leaned up and pecked Jay somewhere in the vicinity of his jaw, hoping that would be the end of it.

“Oh, please! That isn’t a kiss,” Great-Aunt Margie barked. “
I’ll
show you a kiss.”

As she bore down on them with a distinctly unwholesome gleam in her eye, Jay quickly pulled Sasha against his chest and bent her over his arm. Sasha gasped softly and his mouth came down to rest over her parted lips. “Save me,” he whispered.

When he put it like that…
What the hell?
She’d blame it on the mistletoe.

Where no great story goes untold.
The variety you want to read, the stories authors have always wanted to write.
With new releases every week, your next great read is just a download away!

Keep in touch with Carina Press:

Read our blog: www.CarinaPress.com/blog

Follow us on Twitter: www.twitter.com/CarinaPress

Become a fan on Facebook: www.facebook.com/CarinaPress