Soul Surrender (7 page)

K
ayce led the way through the casino. Bells rung as a payout on a penny slot was awarded. The smell of cigarette smoke and recirculated oxygen swirled above, fueling red-eyed humans who probably didn't know if it was morning or night.

“Why do you think ArchAngels care about your ArchDemon?” Damien said, glancing between us.

There was radio silence from the group. Finally Kayce offered, “Maybe it's disrupted the balance?”

I shook my head. “But Buckley specifically said, ‘Back so soon?' They were clearly there recently, before his disappearance, too.”

“Well, what now?” Damien tucked a hand into the front pocket of his pressed gray slacks.

“What do you mean ‘What now'? We find our ArchDemon!” I snatched a glass of something that looked alcoholic off a waitress's tray and shot it down. The amber liquid burned my throat and sizzled in my nose. Tears watered my eyes, and I told myself it was from the whiskey. Unfortunately, we all knew better.

“We will, Monica.” Kayce placed a palm on my arm. “I wonder if it's . . .”

“What? You wonder if it's what?”

Kayce pressed her lips together, a look of regret flashing across her face. “Damn,” she said, clearing her throat. “I shouldn't have said anything. The Contenitore,” Kayce repeated as if I should understand. “There's a new bounty hunter,” she said. “We call her—or him—The Contenitore. The Vessel. The hunter captures rogue demons and brings them back to Hell. But she does it in a way none of us have seen before. There's no holy water, no blessed bullets. She just sort of—captures them.”

Kayce also grabbed a drink off a passing tray. “She's taking jobs away from all of us.”

An excited shout came from the craps table to my left, and a curvy blonde hopped up and down. “But Lucien's not rogue.” I paused. “Is he?”

Kayce shook her head. “Not to my knowledge.”

Damien curled an arm around my waist, tugging me in to his hip. “Let's reconvene tomorrow. I'll see if I can pull up anything at the department. Kayce, can you find out if there was some sort of reward for Lucien's capture? Anything official from Hell. Maybe George can do a little research while he's on set.”

“And me?” I asked, one eyebrow arched delicately.

Damien sighed. “Our main job is to keep you safe. It's what Lucien would have wanted.”

“What does
that
mean?”

The sudden aura of an angel pulsed through me.

“It means I will stay with you while we look around Hell's Lair.” At the sound of Julian's voice, I swiveled, breaking from Damien's grasp instinctually. Jules took note of the contact, his eyes quickly flitting to my hip, then back to my face and Damien's. “Maybe there's something in Lucien's office that will explain where he was summoned.”

A low growl rumbled in Damien's chest. The sort of grumble that most people wouldn't even notice. Except Damien was surrounded by a bunch of angels and demons with exceptional hearing. His arm darted out to my waist once more with a possessiveness that made me both want to slap him and tear his clothes off. “Then it will be your job to keep her safe.”

Jules's smile was placating. The succession of rapid blinks he fired off were directed right to Damien and as close to giving the middle finger as he'd ever gotten. “I think I can manage.”

“You sure about that?” Damien's chest was pure steel beneath his button-down cotton shirt, and it tensed even more with the question. “If memory serves, you didn't do such a great job when she was an angel.”

While I didn't necessarily disagree with Damien's statement, his tone was irksome, like a cat being petted in the opposite direction of its fur. I pulled from his grip.

Julian's smile dropped, and for a second I saw a flash of sadness. “Let's leave it to Monica, then, shall we?” His aquamarine eyes landed on me, sparkling brighter than any gem. “Would you prefer to stay at the café all day tomorrow? Or come with me and be useful?”

“Oh, ouch, babe. He just said you weren't useful.”

“Stop it, Damien.” I wrenched my arm from his grasp. “Just, stop.” I walked to Julian's side but didn't touch him.

One corner of Jules's mouth lifted into a smirk as he slid a gaze in my direction. He crossed two arms over his chest, and his heather gray T-shirt wrinkled beneath his tanned arms.

“I'm not going to sit around all day and do absolutely nothing while the rest of you put your lives on the line.”

“We're all just worried for you. You've already got a target on your forehead. We're just trying to avoid a second one on your chest,” Kayce offered.

Damien rolled his eyes, and two palms slapped against his thighs in defeat. “Fine. Jesus. Stop being so dramatic. Can we go home now?” He held a hand out to me—as if I would simply take it and fall into his bed after all this. I did a mental eye roll. Men are such morons sometimes.

“Great,” I said sharply. “Glad that's settled.”

Kayce nodded a good-bye and teleported home, leaving Julian, Damien, . . . and me.

“C'mon, babe.”

“Why don't I just meet up with you later?”

A pause hummed between us. Julian's snicker finally broke the silence. I snapped a glare to him, and he immediately backed up a couple of steps. “I'll give you two a minute,” he said, humor flashing in those angelic eyes of his. Fucking angels.

With Julian no longer hovering, Damien closed in, his large hands immediately pulling me toward him. They curled around my waist, and the heat from his molten-hot body warmed my flesh. “What's the matter?” Damien played the tough guy well, but beneath that exterior was pure cream in the center. He was soft. Sweet. And I wanted to lick every bit of that cream from him.

I crunched my shoulders to my ears in that way girls do when they want to talk about something but pretend they don't. His thumbs circled my hip bone, pushing the hem of my shirt up and revealing a bit of velvety skin.

“Don't like me playing the part of protector?” Damien raised an eyebrow; his lips were pouty and petal smooth.

I lowered my voice hoping to Hell that Jules wasn't eavesdropping. Oh, who was I kidding? Angels were nosy little fuckers. “I just thought I'd go home. It's been a long day.”

Damien dove a hand through his perfectly styled dark brown locks, and the sight of his fingers combing through those strands made my own twitch, wanting to feel their silk between my fingers. “Is that just what you're saying? Is this that girl thing where you say you just need a night but you really want me to come and sweep you off your feet or some shit? I like you, babe—but I don't even sweep my goddamn
floors
. Let alone a woman.”

I grinned and shook my head. I was sort of looking for a little Prince Charming romance. But I knew better than to ask that of Damien. White horses and glass slippers were not in his repertoire. Toe-curling orgasms on the other hand . . . I gave an inward sigh. Yeah, those he was a fucking master at. “No. No grandiose sweeping gesture needed.” I said through my smile—and I was proud that I even meant it. “Though, Hell . . . if you're offering, my floors could use a good scrub—”

“I dunno about your floors, but I could clean your carpet,” he said through a smirk, tightening his hold and crashing my hips against a growing erection. I gasped upon contact. My mouth went dry and my eyes raised to meet his. The smirk grew. Bastard. “If you change your mind about tonight—”

“—I know where to find you.” I finished for him, barely able to squeeze the words from my cotton mouth. Damn that man. He could heat me up, turn me on, and piss me off in seconds flat.

A cough came from behind us, and being reminded of Jules's presence quickly snapped me out of my horny fog. For now, I wanted to get back inside that theatre and have a look around. Then perhaps later Damien and I could resume where we left off. After I moved myself off of him, he backed toward the front door, pulling a set of keys from his back pocket.

“Don't worry.” Julian's voice, though soft, teetered on hostile. “I'll see to it that she makes it home just fine.”

The metal keys clunked against each other as he tightened his grip on their jagged edges. “It's okay, D,” I reassured him. “I'll catch up with you later.”

He nodded and shuffled out the door without another look back. I swiveled to face the angel and slapped him upside the head. He flinched but spoke through a grin. “What?” He mocked innocence.

“Don't give me that. What's wrong with you? You're supposed to be one of the good guys.”

His hands slid their way into his pockets and he shrugged, eyes piercing right through me. “You have a way of bringing out the bad boy in all of us.”

“You're an angel. On your way to becoming an ArchAngel. You have no bad boy in you.” But even as I said it, I knew that to be untrue. Sure, he wasn't as depraved as Damien, but Jules had an edge to him. A sadness that resulted in hardened anger when he released it. A sex drive that I'd seen only glimpses of over the past few centuries. The way he chewed his lip when his gaze drifted to my cleavage. His quickened breath when I would cozy up just a little too close. The occasional fiery glance—like the one he currently sported.

A shiver danced down my spine. “Well, then. I guess I better get home, huh?”

His smile curved higher. “We both know you're not going home.”

“Oh?” My eyebrows climbed higher.

His chuckle was a sharp exhale through his nose. “I can see you're lying.”

Damn. Stupid angel lie detectors. “Fine. I was going to have a look around, okay?” I said under my breath, knowing he'd still be able to hear each word clearly.

“Great,” he said. His hand slid into mine, fingers grasping my own in a way that felt both natural and foreign. His warm skin was dewy and velvety soft as it pressed against my own.

He tugged me back toward the theatre, leading the way through the double doors. A few stagehands tidied the stage but didn't seem to notice our entrance. I caught the door with my free hand just before it slammed closed.

Still cradling my hand, Julian tugged me down the aisle. I didn't necessarily like being the sidekick—the damsel—the lady behind the scenes . . . but for the moment, it felt kind of nice. Oh, Hell, I needed to snap out of it. I tugged my hand out of his grasp and he stopped midstride, looking back at me. “Is something wrong?”

I shook my head. “No—I think I can take it from here.”

His bemused smirk was haughty and sexy and annoying all at once, and I wanted nothing more than to smack it away. “Oh, you do?”

“Yes,” I snapped.

“The fact that there is an ArchAngel running around here, not to mention some sort of magic in that theatre with the ability to send an ArchDemon somewhere without his consent doesn't frighten you in the slightest?”

“Maybe Lucien wasn't sent anywhere. Maybe he just teleported home.” I raised an eyebrow, and Julian's cheek flopped to his shoulder.

“That's what you think happened?”

“Maybe.” My ear itched and I resisted the urge to tug on it. We both knew that was crap. Lucien would never have left and not told one of us where he was.

We were in a stare down. “Listen—I know you were my leader at one point, but now—I don't answer to yo—mmph!”

Julian's palm clamped down over my lips and he pushed me down to the floor in the last row of seats. With a finger to his lips, he went invisible—I did the same, just as the door flew open beside us. I quickly masked my powers as best I could in such a situation, assuming Julian was doing the same. Of course, he didn't realize I had these powers yet and when my aura disappeared, his hand tightened around my mouth before letting go entirely. His palm traveled over my face—my nose, my cheekbones, down my jaw and neck, stopping just above my breasts with a sharp intake of breath. His weight continued to press into me, flattening me to the carpet. His slim hips shifted above mine, and the stirrings of an erection pressed between my legs. The itch flared in me and I swallowed a shaky breath.

Initially I tried to wiggle out of his grasp a little. Make it so his erection wasn't pressed flush against my dripping sex. Oh, my Hell . . . had I ever felt Julian's dick before? I racked my brain through the centuries—definitely not. Curiosity got the better of me and I relaxed my hips against him, rocking against the growing rod in his pants.

Quick, erratic footsteps hurried their way to the stage, while slow and calculating steps—high heels—definitely high heels, followed behind.

“It happened here . . . onstage, your highness.” The voice was nasally. Almost whiny. It was a voice I knew and just couldn't friggin' place.

“You did the right thing by calling for me.” Now that was a voice I knew immediately—Mia. “He disappeared during a show, you say?”

“Yeah. Some magic act by a fella named Raul. I think he had been to the club a few times. Wanted a lap dance from Monica.”

Lenny! That sniveling little bastard. How did he know Lucien had disappeared so quickly?

Julian's hair flopped onto my cheek and I inhaled his peppermint scent. Spicy, cool. That was my Jules. The blood rushed to my pulsing sex, and I chewed my lip to stop myself from acting inappropriately. Because more than anything, there in that moment, I wanted to arch my back and press my heavy, aching breasts into his steel chest. I wanted to circle my pelvis from below his and satiate that raging desire I knew we both had had since our angel days.

“This is quite disconcerting.” Mia's heels clacked in a circle on the stage, pacing in her own royal way. There was a pause as she stopped walking entirely. “Everyone else is accounted for? All my girls . . . ?”

“As far as I know, it was only Lucien.”

Mia resumed pacing. “Very well. Thank you again, Lenny. Your loyalty will not be overlooked.”