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What. The. Fuck?
Shax trembled, and his whiskers twitched, millennia of pent-up longing swirling through him with nowhere to go. He did not deserve anything Kheone had to offer. Not the truce they had, not her friendship, and certainly not her kisses. He was a demon, marked for eternity by Lucifer’s rebellion. Untrustworthy, unsympathetic, and unlovable, yet he still yearned to be more than what he was.
He had waited by their tree at the museum, hands shoved into his pockets to keep them warm, breath fogging in front of him. He had expected her right around seven. Thirty minutes later, with no sign of Kheone or a note from her, Shax had pulled out the Judas coin. It would get him close to her, but he might land in the heart of the angel enclave. To do something so risky bordered on brainless, but he was still going to do it.
As soon as he materialized on the campus, a large building looming over him, he changed into his cat form and found a shadow to hide in. He scented her before he saw her coming out of the building. Thudding footsteps drew his attention as Michael stalked down the walkway as though he owned the place. He bolted under a bush and resisted the urge to arch his back and hiss as much as he fought the strong desire to turn tail and run.
Shax had forgotten how much the archangel looked like his brother, Lucifer. Even the grim expression gracing the archangel’s brow reminded him of the Prince of Darkness, the spectral, orange light from the lamps heightening the resemblance. The cold fury radiating from Michael was truly the icing on the cake. Lucifer had it in abundance. A tremor of dread, or maybe desire, rushed down his limbs.
He was far enough away that only snippets of their conversation reached his very sensitive kitty ears. Something about a book, something about danger. Shax caught enough to jog something loose from the confines of his memory. Michael’s voice had called for retreat at the moment before the Gates crashed down. What in the nine circles was he supposed to do with that tidbit of information?
Kheone’s smell of earth and rain mingled with the sharp scent of lemons and old wine. The conversation grew heated, and then Michael’s entire demeanor changed, softened. He kissed her, and all the breath left Shax’s body, freezing him under the bush.
Shax took advantage of the archangel’s momentary distraction and scurried off. Staying out of Michael’s path had served him well in the past. He did not see the need to change the behavior now.
Michael, with his iron will and pure heart, was supposed to be better, do better. Yet, here he was, giving in to the desires of the flesh, exploiting Kheone’s understandable infatuation with him. After all, Michael was God’s right hand, the infallible leader of the Heavenly Host, and the object of awe and obedience from every angel.
It was how Lucifer had secured loyalty before his rebellion. Shax had idolized the radiant Morning Star, oblivious to the destruction his mentor wrought. He would have followed Lucifer anywhere. And he did. Shax found the price well worth paying when the Prince made a place for him in his court.
He understood from hard experience how to exploit vulnerabilities. His gut told him that was precisely what Michael was doing with Kheone.
Why was he even worrying about this? Who she kissed was of no concern to him. Just because he dreamed of her did not mean she was his. Just because every move he made since the Second Fall had something to do with Kheone meant nothing, not really. His concern was holding up his end of the bargain, so he could leave behind the machinations of both angels and demons.
Shax ran the entire way to his motel, putting as much distance between himself and the angels. The entire lot of them were giving him indigestion.
He rushed to his motel and burst into his room. Sitting in the desk chair, legs crossed like a Goddamned princess, was the same petite, curvy figure from the other night. Oh, Christ. His night was about to get a whole lot worse.
“Hello, Shax,” she said with a bright smile. It didn’t reach her eyes.
Taking a step backward, he bumped into a solid wall of flesh. Shax looked up into the round face of a massive demon whose mouth turned down in a permanent scowl under shaggy, black hair. His hands were solid weights on Shax’s shoulders.
He sighed, resigned to this fresh, new Hell. At least she had saved him the bother of finding her.
“Hello, Aeshma.”
The Duke of Lust was short. A few strands of her honey-blonde hair escaped the soft chignon and artfully framed eyes the color of a stormy sea. Those eyes were just as uncaring and just as dangerous as any ocean. The curves revealed by her skin-tight dress would make a monk think about sex. Shax was no monk.
A tall, brawny woman with short, muddy brown hair took up a position outside his room. The first demon shoved Shax into the room, shut the door, and stood against it. The only way he was getting out of here was if Aeshma allowed it. Good news was, if she wanted him dead, he would already be shaking hands with Hinndal.
“Been gone from Pandemonium long enough to forget courtesy?”
Shax suppressed the urge to tell her to shove it up her lovely ass. That would get him killed before he could take another breath. Aeshma was a Duke of Hell, and if she insisted on the use of her title and pleasantries, Shax was in no position to argue the point.
“Good evening, Your Grace.”
“You even kept the venom out of your voice. You’re good at this, Shaxie.”
He hated the nickname, Aeshma’s petty way of reminding him of what he had given up when he turned down his own title. Shax was the only demon to refuse something from Lucifer. Ever. His defiance had amused the Morning Star but scared the shit out of everyone else. Those who thought they could get away with it used a diminutive of his name to make themselves feel safer.
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
A sweet giggle greeted this simple statement.
“Have a seat,” she said, patting the bed across from her.
Shax sat, their knees almost touching. Her eyes flashed with dangerous hunger.
“Now, what brings you to my city?” she asked.
Son of a bitch! There went his hope she was merely passing through. His mind raced, trying to find a way out of his predicament. Maybe the Gate would miraculously rebuild itself in the next thirty seconds, and he could return to Hell.
“The fountains,” he said, remembering some weird touristy poster declaring Kansas City the City of Fountains. From the little he had seen, there was a shitload of the things.
She smiled, amused rather than angry at his smart-ass reply.
“I wondered what happened to you. I saw you fall but heard not a peep. The thought of your death saddened me.” Aeshma even managed a pretty little pout. “And now, here you are, spying on me from trees and thinking I wouldn’t find you to ask about it later. Care to explain?”
Damn, he had forgotten the duke knew his second form.
“I did not realize Kansas City was yours, Your Grace.” If Aeshma insisted, Shax would beat the honorific until it was dead. “I’m just passing through. I’ll be out of your hair as soon as possible.”
With dead eyes, Aeshma reached up and cupped his cheek, rubbing her thumb against his lower lip.
“You’re cute, Shaxie, thinking you have a choice, now. It so happens I have a recent opening in my horde. You remember Hinndal?”
Shax nodded, expressionless, keeping his heart rate slow.
“I sent him on one little mission, and the bugger went radio silent. Can’t trust anyone these days.”
“I’m sorry. I thought Hinndal a dependable sort.”
“As did I. Your arrival is timely. I have a job I think you are well-suited for.”
“Honestly, Your Grace—” He tried to protest, but her steely glare cut him off.
“You never were a joiner, were you?”
“No. The one time I did, the results were not as I’d hoped.”
This brought a musical laugh out of the slight demon. At least Aeshma had a sense of humor. Most of the Dukes did not, and Shax had often run for his life after an unwelcome joke.
“I always said you were the comedian among us.”
“One must have...talents...to survive in Hell.”
“Ah, yes. Speaking of talents, I am thrilled you still have your ability to transform. So many of us lost our remaining gifts that it’s hard to find anyone suited to the particular mission I have in mind. If memory serves, you’ve always been more curious than was good for you. Let’s see if I can put that curiosity to good use. Mine.”
Aeshma stood up and straightened her skirt.
“If you are not in my car in fifteen minutes,” she said, “I will send Asag and Orax looking for you. If they find you, they will drag you back so I can renew our acquaintance. The last time you pissed me off, you lived to regret it. This time you won’t.”
Her sweet smile belied the vicious punishment she referenced, sending disgust rushing through him. He could not sit comfortably for days, waiting for the skin on his back and buttocks to regrow. She leaned in, her ample cleavage almost falling out of the low-cut blouse, her spicy perfume mixed with the taste of the bile he fought to keep down. He wanted to puke on her shiny black stilettos.
“Goodbye, Shaxie.”
Shax was out of choices for the moment. If he didn’t join them, he would join poor Hinndal in death, probably after spending a day or two begging for such release.
The door closed behind the duke and her bodyguard. As soon as her tapping heels and the tromp of boots faded down the walkway, Shax gathered his things and stuffed them into his duffel bag.
The good news: he’d kept his promise to Kheone. The bad news: he’d kept his promise to Kheone.