Getting Familiar with Your Demon: That Old Black Magic, Book 4 (7 page)

He didn’t know how long they stood there devouring each other. It wasn’t until a pointed cough intruded on the moment that he recalled they had an audience.

“Okay, guess you are her date.”

Sam broke the kiss in time to see Glitter Boy sidling away. Returning his scrutiny to Marabella, he noticed the rapid rise and fall of her chest and the dilation of her pupils. Wariness warred with the equally fierce need burning in the pit of his belly. He took a staggering step backward, his heart tripping more than his feet as one word clanged inside his head and raged inside his soul, repelling as much as it beckoned.

Mine.

Chapter Seven

“You shouldn’t have done that.” Her heart galloping out of control, Marabella pressed shaky fingers to her swollen lips. “
We
shouldn’t have done that.”

Samael’s dark, fire-filled stare remained riveted on her mouth. “You left me no choice. You were about to rat me out.” An edge of anger lent steel to his voice. She got the feeling he wasn’t pleased with what had just gone down.

That made two of them. As for ratting him out, she most certainly hadn’t been on the verge of doing any such thing. But it was probably wise not to let him know that. Bottom line, she wanted to get him far away from here before something truly horrible happened, like him being discovered and all hell breaking loose. If letting him believe she intended to reveal his identity ultimately served her goal, so be it. “You have to leave.
Now
.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Or?”

“I’ll see to it you’re thrown out.” She prayed the bravado she’d forced masked the underlying tremor in her voice.

Samael’s intense, calculating gaze continued to prod at her, making her nervous. “No, you won’t. Know why?” He took a stealthy step toward her and leaned his head close to hers, their lips a mere hairsbreadth away. “Because if you truly know what I am—what I’m capable of—you realize what a damn-fool mistake that would be.”

She sucked in a breath. “Is that a threat?”

“Try me and find out.”

She shivered at the silkiness of his tone. Although he certainly hadn’t intended it that way, his words took on an entirely different meaning as she imagined sliding his shirt off and tracing the network of scars on his broad, sleek shoulders and chest with her tongue.

She shook her head, desperate to corral her thoughts back on track. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“Hmm.” His knuckles skimmed the side of her neck. “Then why is your pulse speeding so frantically?” His focus drifted to her mouth again. “Or maybe the cause for that is something else. Something much more exciting.”

She licked her lips, and his gaze became hooded. Sultry. Her damn traitorous nipples tightened. “I—I mean it. I want you to leave.”

“Not until I get what I came for.”

“But…there’s nothing here for you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, sweet little Bella.”

The only person who’d ever called her by the shortened version of her name had been her first-grade teacher, Mrs. Davies. But the velvety way Sam said it was infinitely sexier. His face inched closer, filling her frame of vision. She stared at the beard scruff shadowing his chin and jaw, remembering the delicious rasp of it on her skin while he’d kissed her, and wondered what it’d feel like on other parts of her body. No, she definitely didn’t need that thought in her head, damn it.

“What do you want?”

Those skillful, tempting lips crooked upward. “To get laid.”

She blinked. “Pardon?”

“You heard me.”

“But…why?”

He chuckled, the sound dark and smoky, just like him. “Because I’m horny.”

Heat crawled beneath her skin. “I figured that part out. What I don’t get is why in the world you would seek out someone
here
.”

“Variety is the spice of life.”

The teasing way he was looking at her was just as distracting as the nearness of his mouth. She swallowed. “So you’re saying if you find a willing bed partner, you’ll leave?”

“Why? Are you putting yourself on the offering block, sweet Bella?”

The thundering of her heart was so loud she feared he’d be able to hear it. Could she actually go along with this insane proposal? Of course, the curse meant she really wouldn’t have to go along with it at all. But Samael didn’t need to know that. As long as he
thought
he was going to get lucky, she’d be able to get him away from the mansion and potential chaos.

This could work.
Keeping her expression bland to hide her inner triumph, she nodded. “Okay. I’ll do it then.”

His devious grin slipped. “What?”

“You want to get laid? Fine. I’m your girl.”

Eyes narrowing, he stared at her for a long moment as if she were yanking his chain. “You’d honestly sleep with me just to get me to leave?”

“Yes.” Well, at least that wasn’t a lie.

A considering gleam dancing in his irises, he moved back, granting her some much-needed space. “If that’s the case, then we can go upstairs right now.”

She gaped at him. “Are you nuts? I’m not sleeping with you here.”

“How convenient.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

One of his dark eyebrows cocked upward in challenge. “Like I don’t know you intend to ditch me the minute we step outside.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’ve got some serious trust issues.”

“Hell, darlin’. You don’t know the half of it.”

She tossed her arms up. “Look, we’ll compromise then. You come with me in my car, but this is going down on my turf,
capisce
?”

Wickedness once again flashed across his features. “Don’t worry your pretty head over that. I sure as hell plan on going down on your lovely turf. Probably all night long, so prepare yourself.”

It took a second for his meaning to register. Once it did, a persistent throb shuttled through her clit. She squeezed her thighs together, praying he wouldn’t notice. “Must you be so crude?”

“Yes. Get used to it. You’re going to hear me saying a lot worse than that tonight.”

His sinful promise was enough to make her panties uncomfortably damp. She bit the inside of her cheek and discreetly shuffled her feet. “Does that mean you accept my offer?”

“On one condition.”

The notion of giving him any wiggle room in this negotiation made her nervous, but what could she do? She didn’t want to risk him calling it off. Besides, did it make a difference? It’s not like she’d have to go through with the ultimate deed. “W-what?”

“I get carte blanche to do any damn thing I want to you.”

She gulped.
Oh goddess. What have I gotten myself into?
That thought continued to spiral in an endless loop through her mind as Samael escorted her from the ballroom. It didn’t help that he insisted on keeping her plastered to his side the whole time. No doubt that was his way of ensuring she wouldn’t make a dash for it, but his nearness wasn’t calming her racing nerves. Or squelching her libido. With each step they took, his palm rode lower on her back. When he dipped dangerously close to cupping her butt cheek, she almost jumped out of her skin. She was on the verge of giving him a whack upside the head for his heavy-handed groping when she recalled the charade she was playing at. It would certainly rouse his suspicions if she corrected his behavior when they were supposedly on their way to an illicit rendezvous. Giving a silent grumble, she balled her fists and quickened her pace.

“Marabella!”

She swiveled her head and spotted Harley Weston walking toward her, a broad grin stretched across his boyishly handsome face. She obediently jerked to a halt. Ignoring the only son of Tabitha Weston, leader of the North American Alliance of Witches, wasn’t something one did. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, she pasted on a genuine smile. “Harley, how are you?”

“Tired. My flight landed late. Wasn’t entirely sure I’d even make it here on time.” Harley pulled her into a tight hug.

A noise that sounded suspiciously like a growl rumbled from Samael. Harley released her and shot the surly demon a blatantly curious glance. “Hello.”

Samael’s only response was a slight narrowing of his eyes. Nervousness prickling the nape of her neck, Marabella sucked in a deep breath and sent Samael a mute warning before offering Harley another wavering smile. “This is my…friend. Sama—”
Oh shit
. She couldn’t call him by name. There weren’t that many Samaels out there, and Harley wasn’t a clueless idiot. It wouldn’t take much for him to put two and two together.

Harley frowned. “Sama? That’s rather unusual.”

Samael’s predatory stare didn’t exactly inspire warm fuzzies. “Most just call me Sam.”

“Ah.” Still looking confused and flustered, Harley nodded.

Marabella gripped Sam’s arm, desperate to spirit him away before Harley figured out who—and what—Sam was. “Well, it’s been lovely chatting with you, Harley. Please give your mom my regards.”

Leaving a baffled Harley behind, she steered Sam down the hallway and toward the rear service entrance. Once they were safely out of earshot, she skidded to a stop and glared at Sam. “That was incredibly awkward. You could have at least made things easier by not being so rude to Harley.”

“That’s just me, baby. I’m a rude bastard.” He said it with zero apology. If anything, he sounded proud of the fact.

She plunked her hands on her hips. “Maybe I don’t like rude bastards.”

“Good thing you don’t have to like me to have lewd, filthy sex with me, eh?” His teeth flashed with his wolfish grin.

As his silky words shivered over her skin, the damnable part was she didn’t know what she wanted to do more—run screaming from him…or tackle him with another kiss.

Chapter Eight

Two seconds after Marabella started up her convertible, Sam made a disgusted noise and flicked the radio station to another channel. The presumptuous maneuver made her teeth grind as she came up with a third alternative of what she’d like to do to him—namely smack him upside the head. “I happen to like ABBA.”

Sam grunted. Up until then, she would never have guessed so much derision could be loaded into a wordless sound. Clearly he had serious issues if he didn’t like ABBA. How could anyone listen to “Dancing Queen” and not feel the urge to, well, dance?

She shot Sam another covert, sideways glance and tried to picture him shaking his moneymaker. That thought immediately conjured more X-rated images, and she gulped. Banding her grip on the steering wheel, she roared away from the curb.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed Sam stroking the top of the leather console. There was absolutely no reason to consider his motions overtly sexual, but her nipples tightened anyway. The traitorous response made her uncharacteristically testy. “Does my car make up for my taste in music?”

“Nothing can redeem that.” He was silent for a moment. “Except maybe a nineteen seventy Chevelle. In electric blue.”

“I have no idea what that is.”

His stare implied she’d just uttered a blasphemy. Shaking her head, she returned her focus to the road. She’d already decided to take him back to Bella’s Boutique, so at least she didn’t have to rack her brain coming up with a relatively safe, neutral place to playact at this seduction. But that didn’t make her feel any less weird and nervous about the charade she was playing. What if he ended up being angry over not being able to do the dirty deed? She wasn’t so foolish to think he might not retaliate. If push came to shove, she had no qualms about using her magic in self-defense, but what if he decided to crash the Samhain ball again? All of this would have been for nothing.

No. She refused to allow her pessimistic thoughts to derail her from this mission. One way or another, she’d keep him from leaving. Even if it meant tying him to a chair and keeping him locked in place with a holding spell for the night. Those worked on demons, right? She nibbled her bottom lip, the butterflies in her stomach crashing into each other as her doubts intensified.

“Who was the bozo that stopped us in the hall?”

Sam’s question was so unexpected it took her a second to figure out who he was referring to. “Harley? His mother is the leader of the North American Alliance of Witches.” She slid Sam a look. “He’s hardly a bozo.”

“He was dressed like Harry Potter. That makes him a bozo in my book.”

She rolled her eyes. “You don’t have a very high opinion of wizards or witches, do you?”

“Baby, that’s the understatement of the century.”

“I don’t understand. You worked for Antoinette Delacroix. Yes, she was a black witch, but a witch nonetheless.”

“Your point?”

She bit back a sigh. “Are you deliberately trying to be aggravating and evasive?”

“You haven’t even seen me at my worst.”

“There’s a terrifying thought.” A strand of hair loosened from beneath the ivy wreath and whipped across her eye. Before she could make a grab for it, Sam curled his finger around the tendril and tucked it behind her ear. His thumb grazed her lobe, and she shivered. Giving a strained cough, she pressed her legs closer together. “What I’m trying to understand is how you could hold such low regard for witches and yet were willingly employed by one.”

“Willing is a relative term.”

She couldn’t hide her surprise at his flatly worded statement. “Are you saying you were Nettie’s familiar against your wishes?”

He remained stubbornly close-lipped, and her frustration ballooned. “Is it so impossible for you to answer my questions?”

“I’m not here to carry on small talk. The sooner you realize that, the sooner we can get to the good stuff.”

“So that’s it? You only want to have sex. Screw the getting-to-know-each-other part.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

I can’t believe I’m going through with this.
Even if she really wasn’t. But in the end, she still had to endure an evening with a demon who possessed a caveman mentality and a one-track mind. A demon she just happened to have a raging case of horniness for.

Yeah, this couldn’t end badly. Not at all.

Dragging in a shaky breath, she pulled into the parking garage down from Bella’s Boutique and cut the engine. She removed the keys from the ignition and prayed Sam wouldn’t comment on the constant jingling the keys made as they dangled from her trembling fingers. He joined her outside the vehicle, and after crossing the deserted boulevard, they walked the short distance to her storefront.