Sculpting a Demon (4 page)

“You called me,” he answered. As if that were a perfectly reasonable explanation.

“I called you?” She shook her head. She really had to stop repeating everything he said. “How did I call you?”

His eyes narrowed as he regarded her. He seemed to be considering something. Assessing. “You have no idea, do you?” he asked, smoothly rising to his feet.

My
God, he’s
huge
, she thought as he rose above her. It was then that she realized she was sprawled out before him like some kind of crazy crab and her cheeks colored. He extended his hand and she let him help her up, but even standing, she only came up to his shoulder. Her gaze slowly trailed over his magnificent body. Every inch of him was lean, steely muscle and her mouth watered as her eyes traveled down…

She gasped and quickly averted her eyes, her cheeks now blazing. Her body was still all too hyperaware of his touch, and though she wanted nothing more than to leap back into his arms and beg him to take her to bed, she couldn’t—wouldn’t—allow herself to lose control like that. Desperately searching for somewhere else to focus her attention, she frowned as her vision came to rest on the empty space where her statue should have been.

“My sculpture,” she whispered. Her eyes swung back to him, to the empty platform, back to him. The air left her lungs in one harsh
whoosh
and she pressed her hand to her temple, trying to steady herself. “What is going on here?” she wondered aloud.

In a flash, his arms were around her waist and he was gently guiding her toward the couch. “Sit,” he said.

Strangely, she felt safe with those strong arms around her. She didn’t understand how that could be since she was certain that however attractive, this man was very dangerous. Not that she felt threatened, but he exuded a kind of raw sexual intensity that up close was very nearly overwhelming. And that wicked, lazy grin. Smiles like that only ever meant trouble. Her eyes swept over him again and her body tingled with the memory of his weight on her, his hard cock pressing against her, making her hot and wet all over again. She swallowed hard and forced herself to look away. “Could you please put something on?” she asked. “It’s hard to concentrate with you…” She waved her hand over him.

A twist of his wrist and he was suddenly clad in black pants and a skintight black shirt. The clothes appeared perfectly tailored for him, hugging the firm, toned muscles in his arms and legs. He raised one dark eyebrow. “Better?”

“H-how did you—?” Groaning, she buried her face in her hands. This was too much. Far too much. “Bring on those men in the white coats,” she muttered. “I’m ready.”

“You want men in white coats?”

Something in his voice had her peeking at him through her fingers. The distress and confusion on his handsome face almost made her laugh. Almost. One glance at the clothes he wore, the ones that had appeared out of nowhere, cut off any humor she might have felt. “No,” she said. “No, I don’t want any men in white coats.” She forced her hands back into her lap and tried to take deep, cleansing breaths. It wasn’t working. Maybe it would have been easier if he wasn’t so damn gorgeous. Bracing herself, she met his eyes. “I want you to tell me what’s going on.”

Arien thought about the best way to answer as he stood over her.

He couldn’t quite believe how muddled his thoughts were, how his body was still vibrating from the shock of first seeing her awake, of feeling the power behind those wide green eyes and hearing the voice that called to him in the depths of hell. Being this close to her caused a kind of electrical current to pulse within him, beginning behind his eyes and then running downward through his body, straight to his groin. His insides hummed from the intensity. She was, without doubt, the most stunning woman he had ever seen, but her beauty was not the conventional, surface kind. It was something far, far deeper, far more devastating and sublime. And he was so hard. She made him so hard. All he really wanted, all he could really concentrate on was the thought of carrying her back to that bed, burying himself deep inside her and making her scream for him. His previous exploits in the Lust Circle were pale shadows in comparison to the raging need that tore through him for her, and it was only sheer force of will that kept him from falling to his knees and promising her anything, anything at all just to be able to taste her.

“Hello?” she asked, refocusing his attention. “If you don’t start talking, I’m going to call the police.”

Arien almost laughed. The police. Humans were so quaint. “May I ask your name?” he said.

She eyed him suspiciously before answering. “Lila,” she said.

Lila. A name as lovely as her voice.

“Are you going to tell me what you’re doing here or not?”

“You performed a ritual. A spell,” he began. He had to keep it simple as possible. It was obvious that she had no concept of what she’d done. No inkling of her true power. And that was just fine with him. “I heard your call and answered as you requested.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, rubbing her forehead. “And what? You’re some kind of magic genie or something?”

This time Arien did laugh. “No, my sweet. I am a demon.”

For a split second, he thought she might choke on her own tongue. He immediately knelt in front of her and held her face in his hands. His powers did not extend to raising the dead and he wasn’t about lose her now, not after he had gone through all the trouble of finding her. “Breathe,” he ordered. “Breathe.”

Her hands latched on to his wrists. “A demon? You’re a demon?” Her voice had a distinctly hysterical edge, but she managed to rein herself in. Arien had to admire her fortitude. “But you don’t have horns or scales or glowing red eyes.”

He flashed her his very best smile. “Would you like me to?”

“No,” she squeaked. “Please don’t do that.” Her big green eyes held his. “You’re not going to make my head spin all around or make me spew pea soup, are you?”

This little human was too much fun! “Only if you ask nicely.”

The look on her face clearly said she was not amused. “What happened to my sculpture?” she asked, gesturing toward the empty platform. “It was there last night.”

“I think it was the means by which I was able to emerge into the human world.”

“You think?”

Arien shrugged. Details rarely interested him. “When you perform a summoning spell, there has to be a point of entrance. Sometimes it’s a magic circle, other times an object. Either way, without it, I would not have been able to come through.”

“Okay,” she said, letting out a long breath. “Let me make sure I have this straight. You’re a demon. I called you. You…became…my statue. And here you are.” Her grip on his wrists tightened. “And what exactly am I supposed to be doing with you?”

He felt the smile grow on his face. He only hoped it didn’t look nearly as predatory as he felt. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten her. He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip and dipped his head, his lips gliding over her silky cheek. “Oh, I think we can come up with something,” he said against her ear, and gave her lobe a light nip. Her gasp was all the encouragement he needed, and with a low growl, he buried his face in crook of her neck and feasted on her.

Her hands moved up his arms, coming to rest on his shoulders. She nuzzled his cheek as he kissed and suckled her neck, his head spinning with the scent of her. Her fingers dug into his shoulders when he licked the spot right below her ear and he made sure to give it extra-special attention, reveling in her every moan and whimper. His hands skimmed down her sides, over her waist, down to her knees, wanting, needing, exploring. His thumbs traced patterns over the soft skin of her inner thighs, inching slowly higher, closer to her heat.

He wanted her naked, wanted her moaning into his neck, wanted to feel her hot and slick and perfect against his body. He was drowning in her, drowning in her incredible scent, in the overwhelming taste of her skin. Her hand slid down his chest, her fingernails raking over him, making his muscles jump, moving ever farther down until she was cupping him.

He sucked in a sharp breath as lightning bolts shot straight to his groin. His cock tensed, making him harder than he’d ever been in his entire long life, her touch an exquisite pressure, fanning the bonfire within him. His hands moved higher on her thighs, his fingertips grazing the thin material of her shorts. There. That was where he wanted to be. There, where she was warm and wet and oh so ready for him. He moaned into her hair, the need to possess her, to take her, to make her moan and scream, blotted out all rational thought and he pushed the fabric aside, his finger tracing her heated entrance. She shuddered in his arms and he tore his lips from her throat to look into her eyes.

Outside, church bells began to ring.

Chapter Four

Lila dimly heard the bells of St. Stanislaus sound. Her body was on fire, her heart racing. She could feel the heat, the hardness of him through his pants, throbbing in her hand, and she ached for him to fill her, ached to feel him moving deep inside her. Their gazes met and she saw the fierce desire in the depths of his blue, blue eyes.

She reached for him, but he jerked violently and then fell to the floor in front of her.

“Aaaaa!” he screamed, clutching his head. He thrashed on the floor as the bells rang and rang. When they finally ended, his body spasmed and then went still.

Panic flooded her as she dropped beside him. “Are you all right?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Damn, that hurt,” he said, giving his head a good shake.

“What happened?” she demanded.

“I’m—” He winced as he tried to sit up. “Allergic to church bells.”

“’Cause you’re a demon?” Funny how easily those words came out her mouth. She supposed acceptance was the first step toward true insanity.

“More because I was once an angel.”

“Wait,” she said, blinking in confusion. “You said—”

He cut her off with a harsh laugh. “What do you think demons are? Not all of us are simple manifestations of pure evil. Lucifer himself is a fallen angel.”

“So, you’re like Lucifer?” She was proud her voice didn’t crack.

He snorted. “Not hardly. The Prince and I have very different priorities.”

“What’s that—” she began, but the opening bars of
Für Elise
cut her off. Frowning, she scrambled to her feet to retrieve her cell phone. She dug it out of the depths of her purse and flipped it open. “Hello?”

“Lila Callahan?” an unfamiliar male voice asked.

“Yes?”

“Hi, Lila. I’m Mark Barrett from Detour Gallery. I apologize for the short notice, but I’m calling to see you have time today to stop by and do a walk-through of the space. We have everything set up and I wanted your feedback on the display before your show opens. Make sure we’re on the same page and everything.”

She scrubbed her hand over her face, trying to concentrate on what the man on the phone was telling her. She glanced over at the ang—dem—
whatever
—sprawled on her floor. Arien, she reminded herself. His name is Arien.

Regardless, he was the hottest man she had ever laid eyes on, and for some bizarre reason he seemed to want her as badly as she wanted him. She couldn’t even begin to fathom how that was possible, and yet all signs pointed to it being the truth. Her gaze came to rest on the empty platform. The love spell. That had to be the “call” he kept talking about. But how on earth did that stupid little spell manage to summon a demon? It came from a
magazine
, for God’s sake. That was like taking the
Cosmo
Quiz
seriously. For entertainment purposes only, right? Her eyes flicked to him and then away. Well, he certainly was entertaining. She was going to kill Angie. Or maybe hug her.

“Hello?” the man on the phone said. “Are you there?”

Lila snapped herself back. “Sorry,” she said quickly. “I’m here. Today is fine.” She glanced at the clock. A little after nine. “How about around eleven?” she asked. That should give her enough time to shower and get down there. “Does that work for you?”

“Perfect,” he said. “See you then.”

“Great,” Lila said, and then hung up.

She dropped the phone on the coffee table and crossed the room back to him. “So,” she said, folding her arms under her breasts. “Is that going to happen every time a church bell rings? ’Cause if that’s the case, you’re in trouble. This city is full of churches.”

“No,” he said, hitting the side of his head with the heel of his hand. “The first time is always the worst.” He paused, looking up at her. “Unless of course you feel the need to take me inside one…” He let his voice trail off.

“You don’t need to worry about going anywhere near a church ’cause you’re not leaving this loft.”

“Am I not? Well, we all serve as we must.” His gaze slid over her, his eyes heavy lidded and dark with desire. “Though I can’t say how long I will last without any breaks.” He cocked his head to the side, that large, wicked grin splitting his strikingly handsome features. “A few days at most.”

Her eyes nearly popped out of her head. A few days? Straight? Was he serious? One look at his face told her that he was. She swallowed hard and held her hand out to him in the classic “stop” gesture. “Hold on there, demon boy. I said
you
are not leaving this loft.
I
have to go down to the Cultural District for a while.”