Jenna Black - The Devil Inside

“Do you really die when we exorcize you?” His face didn’t change expression. But he didn’t answer me, either, which was answer enough.

Rage heated my blood, and without pausing to think, I hurled the throw pillow at him with all my might. The pillow blinked out of existence about halfway to its destination. Not that it would have hurt him, of course.

I was on my feet, so mad I wanted to kick something. All the damn guilt Adam and Dominic had been piling on my shoulders, and Dominic’s demon wasn’t dead! At that moment, I’d have been happy to kill them both.

“It is against our laws to let humans know this,” Lugh said. He seemed unaffected by my temper tantrum, which just made me madder. I opened my mouth to say something scathing, but he cut me off before I got started. “Dominic really believes his demon is dead. And Adam is forbidden by our laws to tell him the truth. It is, no doubt, one of the reasons he is so angry right now.”

I swallowed down my own anger as best I could. “Then why are you telling me the truth? Or are you above your laws?”

For some reason, that made him smile. “I told you nothing. You came to a conclusion on your own. I simply chose not to contradict you.”

He had a point, but I wasn’t about to admit it. “Why would demons pretend exorcism kills them?”

He arched one elegant, dark brow. “If you didn’t think exorcism would kill a rogue demon, what other method would you use?”

“Oh. Right.”

A lock of his hair slid forward, and he brushed it back behind his ear. My fingers itched to touch the silky strands. I bet they’d be soft against my skin.

“Stop that!” I snapped.

“Stop what?”

“Whatever it is you’re doing to my hormones. And don’t pretend you’re not doing anything!”

His smile was as sexy as it was sinister. “Would you prefer me to look hideous for you? I can manage it if you like.”

As I watched, his image wavered and blurred, then slowly came back into focus. The stud muffin was gone, replaced by something that looked like what you’d get if you crossed a Klingon with a warthog.

“Is this better?”

Great. A smart-ass demon. Just my luck. At least I’d lost the disconcerting urge to jump his bones.

“Much,” I declared.

He raised his heavy brow ridges, and I think looked surprised, though it was hard to tell in that misshapen monstrosity of a face. Unfortunately, he shifted back into Mr. Gorgeous.

“Look, at least put a real shirt on, okay?”

“You don’t like this one?” He smoothed his hands over his chest, his eyes never leaving mine.

I reminded myself that I was in love with Brian, and Brian looked damn good. But that didn’t stop me from squirming. No doubt about it, Lugh was doing something to me. Maybe if I closed my eyes, I’d spoil his fun.

It was embarrassingly hard to force myself to do it, but I closed them. My arousal level went down a notch, and I breathed out a sigh of relief.

“This is just a dream, you know,” Lugh said, and he was much closer to me than he should have been.

My eyes popped open. I was no longer sitting on the love seat, but had somehow moved to the sofa. Right next to Lugh, who’d removed the leather contraption that had posed as a shirt and was now spectacularly bare-chested.

“You’re allowed to be aroused even when you wouldn’t be in real life.”

Yeah, I suppose technically it was a dream. But it didn’t feel very dream-like, and Lugh was real. I don’t think Brian would like me drooling over him like I was. Hell, I didn’t like me doing it.

“I’m not in the market for a demon lover, so back off.”

He leaned toward me, amber eyes going dark as that fabulous hair slid forward to brush against my bare arm.

Bare arm? Hadn’t I been wearing a sweatshirt when this dream began?

I was afraid that soon I’d be wearing even less, because I didn’t seem to be able to pull away. He licked his lips, and it was all I could do not to gasp at the tug of arousal in my center. I tried to think of Brian, but Lugh’s face filled my vision.

Then two things happened simultaneously. I heard a strange ringing sound. And Lugh pulled back, his nostrils suddenly flared.

“Something’s wrong!” he said, not looking at me anymore. “Wake up.”

And I did.

The ringing came from my phone. Rubbing my bleary eyes, I reached over to the nightstand and fumbled for the receiver. I almost knocked it to the floor, but managed to catch it.

“Hello,” I said, holding the phone to my ear as I turned on the bedside lamp.

A fax machine screeched at me. I muttered a couple of curses and slammed the phone down. The bedside clock showed it was three AM. Who sends faxes at three AM? And why did they have to pick my number?

I almost lay down and went back to sleep, but I remembered Lugh saying something was wrong. I didn’t think he’d meant the ringing phone.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, finding my slippers. And that’s when I noticed it. The smell of smoke.

I moved away from my bed and saw a wisp of smoke seeping in from under my door. As I watched, the wisp thickened and grew, pouring in more aggressively.

Why wasn’t my smoke alarm pitching a hissy fit?

I bit my lip and went to the door, tentatively touching the wood to see if it was hot. It was. The smoke came ever more heavily, and now I heard the distinctive crackle of flames.

Shit!

The heat told me I didn’t dare open the bedroom door, so I lunged for the window. I shoved it open, only to find a neat little bonfire blazing beneath it.

I went cold. Somebody had disabled my smoke alarm and cut off my escape route.

Someone wanted me dead.

The smoke in my room was now thick enough to make me cough, so I dropped to the floor and considered my options while my heart hammered.

There were only two options available-the door or the window. I didn’t think I was getting through either one without getting burned. But better a few burns than death, right?

Flames licked under my door, drawn by the steady draft from my window. I had to get out of here, and fast!

I chose the window escape route, but before I leapt out, it occurred to me that I might need a little extra protection. My feet propelled me toward the bathroom before my brain caught up with me. Holding my breath, I turned the shower on and hopped in, soaking my PJ’s with freezing cold water.

I hopped out, my lungs burning from lack of oxygen, then sprinted to the window.

The bonfire had grown, but I had no choice. I ducked my head down into the sopping wetness of my pajama top and jumped, trying for as much horizontal distance as possible.

Intense heat surrounded me, tried to eat me alive. I landed on the ground on my hands and knees, my feet still in the fire. I rolled away as fast as humanly possible.

I pulled the pajama top away from my face, trying to see if I was on fire anywhere. Nothing seemed to be burning. Nothing except my house, that is.

Panting, coughing, dazed, I watched the flames spread through my beautiful English cottage.

I escaped the fire with nothing worse than a few second-degree burns on my feet. My house, however, burned to the ground. Everything I owned, my books, my clothes, my furniture, even my car…gone. One of the neighbors called the fire department, but by the time they started pumping water on it, it had a life of its own. The good news was they got to it before it spread to any of the neighboring houses. When the shock wore off, I’d try to be grateful for that.

The police followed soon after the fire department. Having escaped out my back window, I hadn’t seen the burning cross on my lawn. God’s Wrath and the KKK both agreed that the burning cross made for a neat calling card.