Chapter 12

It had stopped raining. Which should have made me giddy, but each step I took made me feel like I was walking to the gallows. I’ve done that once, actually, but that’s neither here nor there. I digress.

The bloody ring was biting into my foot. I’d shoved it down my boot after leaving Grace’s house, scared witless to have it accidentally go off. She hadn’t told me what it would do, and until I could study it further, I really didn’t want to use it. 

I belted the coat tighter around my waist, feeling as if I couldn’t get warm enough. I know it’s probably some sort of psychosomatic sympathy with that time, but even now I still feel the chill leaching all the warmth from me. 

Scanning the sidewalk, which was now completely deserted—the sun having set long ago—I growled. I was hungry. For food and sex. I felt like a woman starved. 

All that doom and gloom can really bring a girl down. I needed something to ease my body, give me room to think and focus without the constant driving itch in the backdrop of my mind.

I glanced around; all the windows in the housing district were closed or black. I stepped into the deep shadow of an alleyway and ported myself to another alley several blocks down. I’d passed the fifties-themed diner on my way to Grace’s earlier. It was the only place that at this time of night should still have humans.

I made sure there was no one around before I reformed and stepped out from behind the green Dumpster, patting my frizz down the best I could. You should always look your best, especially when tempting a man to your proverbial bed. Though honestly, unless you’re morbidly obese, ugly as homemade soap, and covered in warts, most any man would do you under the right circumstances. Ever heard of beer goggles? ’Nuff said. 

The echoing tin of steel kicked across pavement snagged my attention. I looked up in time to see a lone man headed in my direction, walking with head bent toward the parking lot. 

Lust stirred.

You know I rag on men for wanting to screw whatever comes their way, but Lust’s no different. This guy wasn’t even hot. He was short, thick around the middle, and sporting a wicked receding hairline. 

He looked up, key in hand, standing next to his blue Ford Mustang, as if sensing himself being watched. 

I licked my lips, heart beating a tiny bit faster. 

Go get him—Lust whispered viciously—take him, screw him, kill him. I don’t care. Just make him ours. I gripped the trash bin so hard I actually warped the metal.

I couldn’t understand my reluctance. 

He opened the door.

I locked my jaw, squeezed my eyes shut for a second, and took a deep breath. Every nerve in my body was taut, stretched. My bones were sharp and brittle, poking at my insides, rubbing me raw. Even the blood streaming through my veins felt like poison to my skin. I itched—one of those itches that, no matter how much you dig at yourself, you still can’t seem to satisfy it with mere nails and friction.

I wanted Billy, not this man. He was the one I wanted to taste, screw, convinced that if I could, I’d scratch the itch he started. Once, and my obsession would be gone. In retrospect, it’s probably why I kept holding out on sex. Any longer, though, and I’d turn feral. Without Luc or someone else around to keep me in check, that would be a very bad thing.

I huffed a lank of hair out of my eye. Billy wasn’t here. This man was.

Like a rodent standing on its hind legs, the man studied the darkness of the night. Little black eyes looked in my direction. I knew he couldn’t see me even though he looked right at me. 

Lust screamed.

“I’ll go get your meat if you just shut up,” I snarled under my breath. I stepped into the dim light and plastered on a smile.

He froze with one leg already in the car. I glided toward him with the practiced ease of a geisha, pushing glamour into my body, my face, snaring him hook, line, and sinker as I walked closer and closer, siphoning the information from his brain that I needed to make him fully mine. It was black as pitch out, light coming only from the flicker of a streetlamp in the corner and the faint blue glow of moonlight, nearly obscured by the rise of buildings around us.

I shifted. My body grew soft as clay, molding itself into his vision of loveliness, knowing by the time I reached him, he wouldn’t have a clue I hadn’t always looked this way. 

My legs grew Amazonian long, my bust, surprisingly enough, stayed the same size. But my butt, wow, like two juicy melons, I patted my rear, and that’s when I noticed my skin. I was black. I touched my hair. It’d twisted into short, tight,  sleek spirals. 

“Hi.” Wide, innocent smile. “I’m so lost,” I said, voice a kittenish blend of Southern belle and sex bomb.

He licked his lips, pushed his glasses higher up his flat nose, and gulped hard. No doubt he rarely had this happen to him, if at all. He reminded me of the classic nerd. Content to play with gizmos and gadgets on the weekends instead of girls, not because he didn’t like them but because they rarely liked him. At least I’d give him a story to take back to his band of brothers, not that they’d believe him. 

I touched the belt of my coat, untied it, and slowly ran my hand across the mounds of my breasts. His pupils dilated, zooming in on my chest. He was sweating profusely. I scented the air. He was clean. No STDs, which meant no sick stick. It could have been worse, I suppose.

“I was lookin’ for Belle Street.” I ran my fingers through my hair and shrugged. 

He gawked at me, as if he couldn’t believe this was really happening. I wanted to growl at him, fist his white buttoned-down shirt in my hands, and drag him back to the alley and get it over with. But no sense in scaring the prey. 

I grinned wider and gave my best air-headed giggle, which nauseated me to no end. “Look, I really need help. A lone girl.” I rolled my eyes, planted my hands on my hips and cocked out one side. “Out alone in the city in the middle of the night, is not good. I’ll pay you anythin’ if you’ll just help me.” I licked my bottom lip in a slow, seductive motion, making my intentions very clear.

He shook his head as if to free himself from a thrall—no, I didn’t have him in one, but I’m really good at what I do—and said, “You’re not some two-bit hooker are you? My friends sent you, didn’t they?” He narrowed his eyes, and I could read the anger and humiliation in them. 

I sauntered up, grabbed his tacky polyester brown tie between my fingers, and gave it a gentle, but firm, tug. No more games. I needed this, and I wanted to go home. The sooner, the better.

“You caught me,” I simpered—gag. “Your friends did send me. You gonna send me away just ’cause of that?” I leaned in, blew on his ear, and trailed my finger up his chest, resting it at the hollow of his throat, and gave it a little nudge, delighted to feel his Adam’s apple roll. 

I stepped in as close as I possibly could, pressing my thighs against his, feeling a very hard, but average, lump against the front of his jeans. 

He shuddered. “I… I guess not.”

I nipped his earlobe, and every muscle in his body sagged against mine. He grabbed me by the waist, rested his head on my shoulder. 

“I… I don’t even know your name.”

“Aww, that’s cute.” I wrinkled my nose but didn’t give him my name. There’s power in a name. Never give it away for nothing. And for a demon, that was especially true.

I grabbed his hand, helped him close the car door, and guided him slowly toward the alleyway.

In a day and age when STDs are so rampant, you’d think he’d ask me about that. He didn’t. He looked at me and said, “I’ve never done this before.”

I didn’t have to ask him to clarify. I smiled. “Well, Shug, this is gonna be the best night of your life.”

Exactly two minutes later—sigh—he was mumbling an apology.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know I’d be so close. I’m sorry.” He was bent over, big, fat, pasty white butt poking up in the air as he gathered his discarded coat and tie from off the water-slicked pavement. I shook my head, looking everywhere but at him. Not because I was embarrassed, no. Rather, I didn’t want the image of all that pasty flabbiness forever burned into my retinas. 

“Good night, I’m humiliated,” he whispered, so low an average person wouldn’t have caught it. Thank goodness he’d pulled his pants up by the time I turned to look at him. His face was flaming red, his eyes wide and frantic as he tightened his belt.

I got up off the ground. He’d wanted me doggie-style. Normally a position I loved, though tonight… I shuddered. Those quick thrusts had felt like someone jabbing me with a stick. It was criminal the way he used that thing.

The second I straightened out, I knew I shouldn’t have. His eyes locked onto my still-exposed breasts. I couldn’t find my friggin’ shirt. He’d thrown it heavens only knew where. Now I’m not shy about nudity, but I’d be a sight if caught by the cops. Last thing I needed was to be thrown into the slammer for being a hooker. I could escape, but Luc would have a field day with it. So didn’t want to go there.

“So umm…” He shoved blunt fingers through his cropped hair. “Can we ever…”

Sometimes it’s easier to kill them. “Look, kid,” I said, dropping the breezy twang. “Get lost.”

He frowned, looking like I’d whipped the puppy. Lust stirred, in as foul a mood as I felt—although Lust wasn’t being so nice. My head swam with visions of nerd sprawled on the ground, my claws digging at his penis until I ripped it free and could throw it away so no other girl had to suffer through that. Didn’t I tell you Lust was mean? 

I, however, didn’t want to play the demon’s game tonight. All I wanted now was to cut my losses, go home, and sleep it off. This night had sucked the big one.

“But I thought…”

I rolled my eyes, anger buzzing through my veins like an angry hornet’s nest, and walked back toward the Dumpster, scanning the ground for my missing shirt. “Listen. It was fun and all that, but I really gotta go. Don’t call me, I’ll call you, and all that jazz.” I finger-waved, dismissing him.