Jenna Black - The Devil You Know

Many thanks to Anne Groell, my fabulous editor, for helping me make this a better book, and just for being fabulous in general. Thanks to Miriam Kriss, my agent, whose enthusiasm always helps keep me motivated. And my heartfelt thanks to the Heart of Carolina Romance Writers, who are, in my admittedly biased opinion, the most talented and supportive group of writers on the planet.

There’s no denying Dominic Castello is a treat to look at—the classic tall, dark, and handsome. Soulful hazel eyes framed by thick lashes, warm olive skin, muscles in all the right places…But on seeing him standing in my doorway, my first impulse was to slam the door in his face.

He must have read my expression, for he wedged his foot in the door and smiled at me. He has a sweet, disarming smile that would turn most women to jelly, but I’m not most women. Besides, his equally good-looking boyfriend was the sadomasochistic demon host who’d shot my brother. That put Dominic near the bottom of the list of people I wanted to see, with only his boyfriend, Adam, and pretty much my entire family below him.

Unfortunately, with him being over six feet tall and at least two hundred pounds, I wasn’t keeping him out of my apartment now that I’d been stupid enough to open the door in the first place.

Giving in to the inevitable, I moved away from the door, letting him enter—though I didn’t actually invite him in. I headed to my minuscule kitchen, where a half-full pot of coffee left over from breakfast still sat on the warmer.

“Wanna cup?” I asked without looking at him.

“Sure. Thanks.”

I filled two mugs, noticing that the coffee was dark as ink and smelled stale. If it were just me, I’d make a fresh pot, but I didn’t want Dominic staying that long.

“Cream and sugar?”

Dominic looked at the tar-scented swill in the cup I handed him and shook his head. “I doubt it would help much.”

That almost made me smile. “So, what brings you to this part of town?” I took a sip of the coffee to prove it was drinkable and tried not to gag when I discovered it wasn’t.

When Dominic didn’t immediately answer, my nerves went on red alert. Apparently, this wasn’t a social call, which I suppose I’d known all along.

“Maybe we should sit down for a bit,” he suggested.

I really hated the sound of that—and the way he wouldn’t quite meet my eyes. My stomach gave an unhappy gurgle, and my fingers clenched on the coffee cup. I put it down before I took a sip by reflex.

For the last few weeks, I’d been trying my best to live under a rock. I’d had enough stress lately to last me a lifetime—or three. Realistically, I knew my problems were far from over, but I’d been determined to hold them at bay for as long as possible—ideally, until I was on my deathbed.

See, here’s the thing. I’m an exorcist. My calling in life, my very raison d’être, is to kick demon ass. Only the ones who possess unwilling hosts or who commit violent crimes, of course, but in reality I don’t like legal demons much better. So as you can imagine, my life became a little complicated when I found out I was possessed by the king of the demons, who was embroiled in a war for the throne of the Demon Realm.

For reasons neither of us understands, the demon king, Lugh, can’t take control of me the way a demon normally dominates a host. Even though I’m possessed, I remain in total control of my body. For the most part, Lugh can only take command when I’m asleep, and can only communicate with me through dreams.

From the moment I’d found out I was possessed, my life had shot straight to hell and stayed there. My best friend had tried to kill me. My house was burned to the ground. I was thrown in jail for murder. My boyfriend, Brian—actually, he’s my ex-boyfriend now, though I have yet to convince him of this fact—was kidnapped and tortured in an attempt to get to me. And to win his aid in rescuing Brian, I’d let Dominic’s boyfriend whip me bloody for his own amusement.

All in all, I was desperately in need of some R&R. But since I wasn’t getting Dominic out of my apartment through brute force, I figured the quickest way to get rid of him was to listen to what he had to say.

I’m sure I looked pretty sulky and mulish as I led him into my living room and gestured him toward my couch. I dropped into the love seat and suffered a momentary pang of yearning for the homey, comfortable furniture that had been destroyed when my house burned down. I’d rented this apartment furnished, and nothing in it reflected my tastes. This love seat, for example, was hard enough to numb my ass. I hoped the sofa would have the same effect on Dominic.

“So we’re sitting down,” I said, folding my arms across my chest. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re here?”

He put his cup on the coffee table—I don’t think he’d been stupid enough to take a sip, like I had—then turned so he could face me full-on. I didn’t like the intensity of his expression, so instead of looking at him, I idly tugged at a loose thread on the arm of the love seat.

“Adam has found out something he thinks you should know,” Dominic said.

I pulled on the thread a little harder, and the fabric started to unravel. With a grunt of disgust, I stopped fidgeting and gave Dom my best steely-eyed glare. “If Adam thinks I should know, why isn’t he the one sitting here?”

Dominic grinned. “He thought I was more likely to get through your door.”

I couldn’t help a rueful chuckle. There have been times when I’ve said some terrible things to Dominic, but he’s never deserved them. When I’d first met him, he’d been a willing demon host, and I had despised him for being the kind of weak-minded, suicidal fool who was willing to give up his entire identity to host a demon. Because the human personality was (in all cases except my own) completely buried beneath the demon’s, I’d considered the human hosts as good as dead. Many people—including my entire family—considered those who sacrificed themselves to host “Higher Powers,” as they called demons, to be great heroes. Because demons are so much stronger and so much more resilient han humans, the hosts can take on extremely dangerous tasks. But I’d always considered them sheep.

After some of the things he had done for me—and for Brian, a man he didn’t even know—I now believed Dominic was a genuine hero, even without his demon. And despite my feelings about Adam, I had to admit that, most of the time, I rather liked Dom.

“Adam could have tried phoning,” I said, attempting to maintain my grumpy demeanor.

Dominic just laughed. “And you would have hung up on him and taken the phone off the hook.”

Probably true. “All right, you win. Tell me what he found out. I assume it’s important or you wouldn’t be here.”

The humor faded from his face. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat, and once again his eyes slid away from mine. “This is going to be kind of awkward.”

“Great.”

“Adam’s been doing some, er, investigation.”

Along with all his other sterling qualities, Adam is also the Director of Special Forces, the branch of the Philly police department responsible for demon-related crime. The fact that he’s hosting a demon himself has never seemed like a conflict of interest to the Powers That Be, though I wasn’t the only citizen who questioned the wisdom of his appointment.