Kim Harrison - Dates From Hell

Chavez’s face was fierce as he listened to Samantha. He did seem capable of anything. Even murder.

“And you won’t?” I asked.

“I didn’t say that. But you’ll die happy. I promise.”

I was tempted to run, except where would I go? No matter where I went, if Chavez didn’t find me, the demon would. Wouldn’t it be better to die easy at the hands of a friend, than horribly at the hands of evil?

“Chavez,” I shouted. “Bring the salt.”

I give him credit; he came running. But she was already gone.

“That was a woman,” he said.

“Sex is sex.”

“A comment only made by someone who’s never had any.” He went silent for a second. “A woman is a succubus.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

“Our demon is supposed to be part incubus.”

“I think this one is a lot of things.”

“True. What did she say?”

I hesitated. If Chavez had wanted me to know about his possession, about the abuse at the hands of his mother, about the exorcism, he’d have told me. I wasn’t going to bring it up. I also wasn’t going to bring up my imminent death. From the look on his face, he was upset enough already.

“The usual,” I lied. “Sex until I die. Never give up. Yada-yada. The powers of evil need a new tune.”

He stared at me for a few seconds, and I managed to stare right back. Amazing what a little Armageddon can do for one’s lying skills.

“You ready to go?” he said at last.

I glanced at the fence, the concrete, the hole. “Definitely.”

Chavez hailed a conveniently trolling cab, then gave the driver my address. Silence fell between us. What did we have to talk about? His method? My funeral? Damnation. Forgiveness. I preferred the quiet.

The doorman, already accustomed to Chavez’s presence, nodded as we got on the elevator. Oh-oh. I didn’t want Chavez arrested for my murder. He’d be needed in the coming days to keep the demon horde down to a manageable level, if not thwart the coming Apocalypse.

I let us into the apartment, moved into the living room as he locked up behind us. Not that locking up had done much good so far.

“There’s a service entrance,” I blurted. “Do you know how to short-circuit the security cameras?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You’ll need to get out of the building unseen.”

He crossed the room, stopping so close I could feel the heat of him calling out to the sudden chill in me. “You think I’d hurt you?”

“Hurt, no. Kill, yes.”

He threw up his hands, then stalked away. “That damn demon!”

“Redundant, I think.”

I surprised a laugh out of him.

“I’m not going to kill you, Kit.”

“You have to. I understand. Although…”

My voice faded as a thought took hold—an insidious thought, but a very tempting one. I’d changed over the last few days, probably because the whole world had. Or rather the world had always been far different than I realized.

I’d saved myself for marriage, true love, but I wasn’t going to find either one in the next five minutes. Did I really want to die a virgin?

“One request,” I blurted.

He sighed impatiently. “Kit, I am not going to—”

“Make love to me.”

Chavez stared at me for several seconds, then slowly shook his head. My hopes died.

He crossed the room and I tensed, knowing this was the end.

“Make it quick,” I said.

Gently he reached out and slid my glasses from my nose, folding them, before setting them aside.

“It will definitely not be quick, querida, ” he murmured.

Then he kissed me.

The single kiss we’d shared had come in thedepths of the night as this did. Then I’d still believed in a world without pure evil. Then I’d believed I had a life ahead of me, that I still had a shot at true love.

Now I knew better. That knowledge made the kiss no less mind-bending. Maybe the knowledge made it more so. If tonight was my last night, I wanted to spend it like this. With him.

I opened my mouth, deepened the kiss. He tasted of mint—fresh, cool, new. I licked his teeth and he moaned.

My fingers managed to pop several buttons of his shirt before fumbling in their haste and becoming unable to finish the job. Instead, I latched on to the lapels and tugged.

He stumbled forward, almost knocking me down. “ Lo siento. I—”

I kissed him again. “No talking.”

If we talked too much, I might lose my nerve. If we waited too long, he might lose his.

Grabbing his hand, I practically dragged him to the bedroom. There I yanked my shirt over my head and tossed it into a corner. My bra followed just as fast. His dark gaze wandered over my breasts. I might be short, and I might be dumpy, but my breasts were pretty darn good.

He kicked the door shut behind us.

His shirt hung open, framing his chest. The ripples and curves, all that bronzed skin…I wanted to run my hands everywhere; so I did.

My thumb skated over the tattoo on his breastbone. Very small; without my glasses I had to get closer to make out the tiny cross inside of a circle. I wondered what it meant, then I wondered if I’d ever have time to ask.

I leaned forward and ran my tongue over one nipple, then the other. They tightened against my lips so I scored them with my teeth.

He grabbed my hair and I stilled, ready to fight for the right to taste him. But instead of pulling me away, his palm cupped my head, urging me on.

I suckled him, the tiny bud of his nipple hard against the roof of my mouth. His free hand smoothed over my back, up my ribs, then settled onto my breast where his thumb teased me into a similar state.

My knees wobbled, so I let them collapse, sliding my cheek down his stomach, rubbing my mouth against the front of his pants. I’d always wanted to open a guy’s zipper with my teeth.

It didn’t work as well as I’d hoped. My teeth ached; the zipper stuck. Too much pressure from the other side.

Impatience flared, and he wrenched the thing open, taking himself in his own hand and jerking his palm over the length just once.

I shoved him out of the way and took him in my mouth. No time to be shy, no time to learn all the nuances. I wanted to experience everything, and I only had one night.

His palm at my neck, he showed me how it was done, throwing his head back, his hips flexing in an ever-increasing rhythm. When he pulled away, I pulled him back. But he lifted me to my feet and kissed me so roughly our teeth clashed.

He was hard and hot against my stomach, wet from my mouth. I gave an involuntary shimmy, and the resulting slide made us both groan.

He tore his lips from mine and pressed our foreheads together. “Where did you learn this stuff?”

“I’m making it up as I go along.”

The soft breath of his laughter brushed my cheek. “I love a woman with an imagination.”

After inching me backward several steps, he put a hand to the center of my chest and shoved. I tumbled onto the bed. He stared at me with a strange expression—as if he’d never seen me before.

“What?” I asked.

“You’re so pretty.”

I snorted. “Don’t bother, Chavez. I’m a sure thing.”

“Bother?” His head tilted; his hair swung free of his shoulders and his earring winked in between the dark strands.

“I’m not pretty. Never have been. I never will be. Don’t care.”

Or at least I didn’t anymore. What would be the point?

The realization was freeing. I didn’t care about my rounded belly, my wide hips, the stretch marks that resembled a road atlas across my butt. None of that mattered anymore. Only this did.

Him. Me. Together just once.