Мишель Роуэн - The Demon in Me

She looked at the floor instead. The last thing she needed was a demon critiquing her lousy decorating skills.

“Darrak”—she let out a shuddery breath—“I need my privacy.”

“That’s going to be difficult. For obvious reasons.”

“I’m exhausted right now and I can’t deal with this. Can’t you just go wherever you’ve been for the last few hours?”

“Afraid not. I need to be much more drained in order to fade like I did earlier. I can stay quiet, if you’d prefer, and enjoy the view. I’m just happy to have somebody to talk to after so long. You have no idea what it’s been like for the last three centuries.”

She couldn’t even imagine. “I’m sure it hasn’t been fun for you.”

“No, it definitely hasn’t. There have only been four hosts over the years who could hear me — and none as clearly as you can. Two of them went insane. The other killed himself. You had the privilege of meeting the fourth earlier today. He figured out I was a demon, but he was already crazy to start with.” He was quiet for a moment. “I tried to stop him. But my voice in his head only made him angrier.”

Eden’s eyebrows raised. “You really tried to stop him from killing people?”

“I tried. My influence on him wasn’t going to last long, though.” His voice sobered. “Luckily his death came early.”

“I’d think a demon would be okay with murder and mayhem.”

“Some are; I won’t lie. But the rest of us… well, I think stomping out a human life is a waste.”

She hadn’t believed in demons until today. Well, not outside of the Hollywood ones. And they were all evil. Darrak said he wasn’t. She didn’t exactly have any choice other than accepting what was happening to her at the moment, did she? Until they found the witch who’d cursed Darrak, Eden was stuck having his voice in her head.

From her chest of drawers she grabbed the oversized red T-shirt she wore to bed and quickly slipped it over her head.

“Purple walls and framed movie posters,” he observed. “Interesting choices for a woman of your age. Especially the Goonies one.”

Her cheeks heated again. She had framed posters of her favorite movies. All of which seemed to be from the 1980s for some reason. Goonies was a very underrated flick. Some people decorated with an eye for chic design. She preferred choosing things that brought back happy memories.

“You’re positive the witch who cursed you is in the area right now?” she asked after a moment, choosing to ignore his comment.

“I know she is. Or she will be.” He hesitated. “But I don’t know exactly where she is or how to find her.”

She thought about that. “It should be fairly simple to find somebody who’s over three hundred years old. Just look for the most dried-up old person in a seniors’ home. She won’t be able to move very fast.”

“She won’t look old. She’s a black witch.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He snorted softly at that. “I keep forgetting you’re new at this. A black witch is one who practices powerful black magic. Even back when she cursed me, she was very vain and would undoubtedly have used some of that magic to keep herself as youthful as possible to go along with her immortality.”

Learn something new every day. “We’ll find her.”

“You sound very certain.”

“I have to be. I can’t live like this.” She yanked the edge of the T-shirt down as far as possible. She still felt nearly naked. She’d have to buy some full pajamas ASAP. “I can’t have somebody lurking around in my head all the time. We’ll find the witch, we’ll break the curse, and then you’ll go away and leave me alone.”

“It sounds like the best plan I’ve heard for three hundred years.”

“Now I’m going to bed.”

“Lead the way.”

She pulled the covers back and climbed in. “I thought I was exhausted, but now I just hope I can fall asleep.”

“Do you want me to tell you a bedtime story?”

She refrained from rolling her eyes. “I’d prefer silence.”

“I can do that, too.”

She turned off the light, squeezed her eyes shut, and tried her best to forget she was sleeping with a demon.

The demon didn’t say another word.

— Smooth, warm skin. It felt so good.

She curled around the firm body next to her, sliding her hands over a muscled male chest and broad shoulders as she slowly woke with a contented sigh.

Her lashes fluttered as she opened her eyes.

“Good morning.” Darrak smiled at her, his face only an inch away from hers.

Her eyes widened. “You.”

She’d woken in the arms of the demon. He’d taken form again. Full and — by the looks of the rapidly slipping lavender sheets as she scrambled to move away from his embrace — completely naked form.

Darrak didn’t seem to have a problem with his current state of undress. He reclined against an overstuffed pillow, casually put his arms behind his head, and raised an eyebrow at her. “What?”

Eden fell right off the side of the bed, but quickly jolted back up to her feet.

She cleared her throat and averted her eyes, then pointed in his general direction. “Don’t you have any clothes?”

“Quite honestly, no I don’t.”

“Cover yourself up!”

“Fine.” There was a rustling sound. “Okay, I’m covered. I had no idea you were such a prude.”

“I’m not a prude.” She glared at him to see he’d pulled the covers up to his waist.

“Sure you are. It’s obvious.”

“Yeah, well. You’re an exhibitionist.”

“Your point?”

She swallowed hard. “You — you were dressed yesterday.”

“True. I’m currently very weak, but I had enough power to conjure those less than adequate clothes.”

“Then conjure some more.”

He studied her for a moment with amusement. “For the last half hour you didn’t seem to be having much of a problem with my current form.”

Her cheeks began to blaze with heat. “You’ve been groping me for a half an hour?”

“More like the other way around. But don’t worry, I didn’t mind.” He gave her a wicked grin.

She turned away from him and went into the bathroom, slammed the door, and locked it. Then she put her back up against it and tried to calm down.

This wasn’t working. Not in any way, shape, or form. Maybe she hadn’t been 100 percent perfect for the nearly thirty years of her life, but what had she done to deserve this?

She hated to sound whiny, but come on! Why her?

Luckily, Darrak didn’t bother her or knock on the door. She decided to take the brief, precious moment of privacy to have a quick shower and wash and blow-dry her hair. When she cracked open the door and peered out, there was no sign of Darrak in bed or elsewhere in her bedroom. She breathed a sigh of relief and tiptoed out to get dressed as quickly as possible in black pants, a form-fitting but practical khaki tank top, and a black jacket.

She picked up the framed picture of her mother from her bookcase and looked down at the beautiful, smiling blond woman.

“This isn’t funny,” she told it firmly. Her mother would have been very amused by this situation. She’d always thought Eden was too uptight for her own good.

Men had fallen at Caroline Riley’s feet all her life. Eden hadn’t inherited her easy, breezy way with men at all. Even Andy had been head over heels in love with her mother. That was probably what had made it so easy for her to take him for half his business in the poker game.

She put the thoughts of her mother out of her head and left the bedroom. Her rented apartment was very small, and her bedroom was only a few steps away from the living room. The kitchenette was open concept and looked out at the living room over a breakfast bar.