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Sinfully Scandalous
by Rosalie Stanton Atlantic Bridge www.atlanticbridge.net Copyright ©2012 by Rosalie Stanton First published in 2012
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Sinfully Scandalous by Rosalie Stanton
Atlantic Bridge www.atlanticbridge.net
Copyright ©2012 by Rosalie Stanton First published in 2012 NOTICE: This eBook is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution to any person via email, floppy disk, network, print out, or any other means is a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines and/or imprisonment. This notice overrides the Adobe Reader permissions which are erroneous. This eBook cannot be legally lent or given to others. This eBook is displayed using 100% recycled electrons.
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CONTENTS Acknowledgments Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Epilogue ****
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Published by Liquid Silver Books, Imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana. Copyright 2008, Mara Lee. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the authors. This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental. Disclaimer This book contains irreverent references, interactions, humor, personalities, and relationships that might be offensive to some. I am a student of religious studies, but I am not pious, and I try to make all my characters rounded and flawed, be they Lucifer or Big J. Having been raised in a strict religious environment, myself, I understand some readers might find my outlook inflammatory. If you are particularly sensitive to unconventional religious themes, this might not be the book for you.
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Blurb Thou shalt not commit adultery. It's an order Luxi, Sin of Lust, never saw coming. When you work for Lucifer, though, you tend to lay off the questions. She isn't comforted when she discovers her assignment is to intern for a preacher-turned-politician, especially when her directive goes no further. As Luxi prepares for a long ride to nowhere, she can't help but wonder if something else is at play ... or what the King of Hell has up his sleeve. Grayson Bailey's run for state senate is going nowhere fast. The poll numbers are depressing, his campaign advisor is on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and someone out there has a bullet with his name on it. Yet when temptation herself struts through the door with a sassy smirk and an attitude to match, Grayson finds it very hard to remember which obligations are at the top. The closer Grayson gets to Luxi, the stranger his life becomes. With Election Day—and a psycho with a gun—just around the corner, he can't afford any detours. And while Luxi never puts her heart on the line, there's something about this man that tests her resolve ... though it might end up costing her more than she can afford.
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Acknowledgments Thanks to my crit-partners Nikki London, Sarah Ballance, JA Saare, Madelyn Ford. Thanks and love to Aaron for his support and encouragement, and for being the inspiration behind every hero I write. Thanks to my readers, whose enthusiasm for the first book helped get me through the second. Thanks to Sara for being my big sister. Thanks to Granny and Fafa, whose unconditional love reminds me how beautiful religion can be. Thanks to my editor, Chrissie Henderson, who again kept me from embarrassing myself. Dedication For Kimmie. Thank you for being my biggest fan, but more importantly, my dearest friend. I couldn't have done any of it without you. [Back to Table of Contents]
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Prologue In the beginning, Big J created the Earth and all that surrounded it. He did it mostly on a dare from the angels on his staff, those who openly doubted his self-proclaimed Almighty status and demanded evidence that he was, indeed, the head honcho. Back in the day, ethereal beings had short attention spans. It was one of the side effects to sitting around a heavenly dimension with nothing to do for fun. Big J talked a good game, but his subjects needed a demonstration, and therefore he provided. Thus, man emerged from dust. A creature of perceived flawlessness, created in Big J's image, but without all the fancy superpowers. For a while, there resided a garden where the first man and second woman—as the man had demanded a refund for the first woman—interacted with blissful ignorance to the turning world around them. Big J became boastful about his design, stating at last he had created a class of being that would grant him the respect and worship he deserved. After a few hours listening to Big J boast, his closest confidant, Lucifer, claimed no creature could be created without the spirit of rebellion, and that the human race would prove just as much a disappointment as the angels, if not more so. Big J, intrigued, asked Lucifer to assume the shape of a serpent and put his money where his mouth was. The male human, completely befuddled by the oddity of a talking snake, convinced the female to forgo her skepticism. Together, they 7
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proved Lucifer's point and failed Big J's test. As punishment, the man and woman were banished from the Garden, but remained on good terms with Lucifer after he explained it was merely a social experiment and nothing personal. Big J kept Lucifer close after that. It would have been easy to throw his hands up in surrender, but a prideful deity, Big J decided it would be a waste to undo his master creation. Instead, he and Lucifer decided to make wagers on who was the better salesman. Lucifer would tempt and Big J would threaten, and one by one, the descendants of the first man and second woman began falling prey to Lucifer's antics. When Big J asked Lucifer how it was accomplished, Lucifer merely replied that being bad was more fun, and fun trumped feeling bullied any day of the week. Big J felt that was reasonable, but soon humans began dying off. With nowhere else to go, their souls flocked toward Paradise, and the streets of Heaven overfilled. Since some of the souls were truly nasty sons of bitches, Big J became more and more reluctant to house them all on his lawn. He then approached Lucifer with another request. Those who fell victim to Lucifer's schemes did not deserve having their pillows fluffed. It made little sense allowing bad people into a previously good neighborhood. Big J wanted a do-over. Lucifer, as the most cunning angel, had earned a place in Big J's design. After receiving a hefty promotion from angel to deity—complete with a permanent new set of shiny powers—he would guard over those he tempted into falling from grace in a world befitting the worst sort of sinner. In the meantime, Big J and Lucifer's low-stakes wager over the souls 8
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of man would become more than just a weekly gamble. Lucifer liked the idea, and therefore took four of Big J's best architects to create a world so horrible the very mention made man tremble. Sometime during this period, Lucifer decided to form a safe house for a large portion of his power in the event something went awry and he needed it. He chose the number seven, marking the fabled seven days it had taken Big J to create the world. Thus seven children were born—born and kept isolated, nameless, and completely unaware of the world around them. Lucifer also established a ritzy neighborhood full of creature comforts: a spa, several high-end shopping areas, a food court, world-class dining, a symphony, a theatre, and miles of mansions that multiplied every time a new demon was born of ash. After all, Lucifer's pet creations needed a place to live, and unlike the humans, they weren't being punished. Big J commemorated Hell's grand opening by unleashing a flood on his human creation, who by this point had turned out to be mostly wicked. Within no time, the streets of Hell overflowed with the scum of Earth, and Big J's latest project was up and running. So it continued for centuries. Big J and Lucifer went about making deals, trading bets, pitting their best upon assorted targets and meeting up for drinks somewhere on their playing field to laugh and boast about what the other might concoct next. However, there was an unexpected side effect in ruling Hell. Lucifer went out into the world to work his magic, but returned home to a place where the cries of the damned were 9
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far too loud to ignore for eternity. By Big J's orders, the place of everlasting punishment did more than live up to its reputation. Lucifer might have been apathetic at first, believing—as did Big J—humans had one chance to make their choice, fall in line, or accept the consequences. If they chose to shun that which had been given to them during their mortal lives, they didn't deserve a second chance. But the screams didn't stop. Souls didn't acclimate to eternal torture. If anything, the wails of the oldest were the most deafening, and likewise the hardest to bear. Lucifer ignored them as long as he could. He turned a blind eye to those who approached him, grabbed at his feet, and begged for mercy. When he approached Big J about the problem, the deity suggested moving all souls to a Lake of Fire where they could not touch him. Lucifer followed this advice, but it didn't help matters any. Ultimately, the only escape for the Ruler of Hell was to close the shades from his cozy palace in Hells Bells and pretend he was anywhere but where he was. It wasn't until a crazy little thing called Christianity began spreading like wildfire that Lucifer put his foot down. For the first time, he approached Big J and asked about possibly moving some of the older souls from Hell to a place for rehabilitation. Big J promptly declined the suggestion, but the argument refused to die. With the birth of Christianity came the papacy, the Nicene Councils, the Trinity—which Lucifer never understood—and the Cardinal Sins. Upon hearing some holy humans felt some sins were worse than others, Lucifer felt inspired and revved in ways he hadn't in years. Based on the decree of man, he took the concept he had pocketed so 10
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long ago, the faceless children who had existed without living, and created physical Sins to take his place in the world, along with names to represent their status. He reasoned it was a way to keep the natural order balanced—Big J's angels were still on the prowl for righteousness, and while he had no desire to get his hands dirty, Lucifer knew he needed to keep himself in the game if he wanted to keep Big J on his toes. Therefore, the Sins were born. The Seven Deadly Sins, given flesh, fire and assignments to keep them busy for eternity. He made Superbia first, the Sin of Pride. Next came Ira, the Sin of Wrath. Luxuria was the third, the Sin of Lust. Gula came next, the Sin of Gluttony. Acedia was the fifth, the Sin of Sloth. Next came Avaritia, the Sin of Greed. Last was Invidia, the Sin of Envy. While Lucifer never claimed any children, he did love the Sins as his own. With them at his side, he roamed the world of his own accord, not worrying about appearing in person unless the situation demanded it. Whereas other demons from the pit might find themselves shunned from blessed ground, the Sins, regardless of having been born in the ashes of Hell, could go anywhere they desired. They were the brainchild of humanity, and that gave them power none other enjoyed. It made them a hot commodity, and a well-guarded secret, protected especially from reaching anyone with one foot in Paradise. No one outside Hell's Gates knew the Sins had bodies of their own. And while the Sins were widely 11
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envied among their peers for their closeness with Lucifer, no one came close to matching their power. After the Sins' creation, Lucifer again approached Big J about rehabilitating the older souls, or at least offering them a chance to destroy themselves to avoid further suffering. Again, Big J declined. This led to a terrible falling out. Lucifer cut himself off completely from his once-friend, and determined he would make Hell as horrible a place as possible so the cries of his prisoners wouldn't remain deaf on Big J's ears forever. Lucifer likewise completely ceased going out in the world on his own to tempt humanity into depravity, feeling he had done enough damage. Generations rolled on. Eras flew by. Big J and Lucifer did not communicate for centuries. Then one of the Sins, Avaritia, resigned her post. Big J managed to garner Lucifer's attention and arrange a meeting. The world became interesting again. [Back to Table of Contents]
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Chapter One "I'm sorry ... what?" Lucifer was drafting a memo and, at first, didn't bother looking up. "That's funny. I don't remember stuttering." "I just don't get it." He set his pen beside the parchment, his gaze rising to hers. Two millennia hadn't eradicated the power behind the stare. He was her boss first and her friend second, and though Luxuria felt mostly apt at pinpointing his moods, she wouldn't pretend he didn't freak her shit out. He was still the King of Hell and everything. That title meant something, even to those who truly knew him. "There's a man on Earth named Grayson Bailey. He is the pastor at Brentwood Christian Church in a town called Springfield." "Yeah," Luxi agreed slowly. The dual horns she often saw nestled in his chestnut curls were absent, thus she presumed he was serious. He usually sported the devil look when he was pulling someone's leg. That wasn't today, apparently. "That much I heard." Lucifer looked at her a moment longer, then nodded and glanced down as though that explained everything. Fortunately, Luxi knew better than to start blabbing. Her boss might be lenient, but he didn't like being questioned, and it wasn't hard to see why. As it happened, she'd never had issue with any of her assignments in the past, and despite her misgivings, knew the assignment wasn't as strange and 13
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pointless as it seemed. At the very least, she hoped that were the case. "Grayson Bailey," Lucifer continued a second later, "is running for state senate." Luxi nodded. "Uh huh..." "I would like you to work with him on his campaign." She nodded again and waited. And as the last time, Lucifer didn't elaborate. Perhaps she was meant to translate his meaning on her own. It wasn't as though her job had veered much off course over the last few centuries. Go somewhere, seduce someone, lure a target toward a transgression of their own making, return victorious, and all that jazz. Yet Luxi knew it was dangerous assuming Lucifer's intention, even if it seemed obvious. Therefore, when he neglected to elaborate, she prodded, "And seduce him?" Lucifer brow furrowed. "Did I say seduce him?" "No." She frowned. "Is this an old fashioned gig? You want me to infect him with lust so he humps an intern or something?" "I'm pretty sure if that was my intention, I would have mentioned it." "Then what is your intention?" Luxi winced and threw her hands up, prepared for the bemused stare she received. "Sorry, Boss, but I'm not seeing it." "Clearly." Lucifer's lips twitched but he didn't smile. Instead, he sighed and leaned back, folding his hands behind his head. "I want you to work with him, Luxi. Very close. Springfield is a decent-sized city in a state boasting the highest meth count in the good ole US of A. Grayson is a 14
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socially liberal minister looking to taking the teachings of the Good Lord to the capital in a way that will benefit the less fortunate." Luxi shrugged. "So?" "So Springfield isn't what I would call a liberal town. They like their bibles and they like their guns, and they like everyone to speak the same language when it comes to their bibles and their guns. A preacher who doesn't sing their tune and has the balls to run for office—" "No, I got why he's a hot ticket." Lucifer looked indifferent. "Then I don't see what the problem is." "You don't want me to seduce him." "Correct." "You don't want me to make him pant over some barely legal intern." "You're really on a roll here." Luxi sighed, her shoulders dropping. "I don't get it." "I really couldn't make it any simpler for you," Lucifer said. "You're going to Springfield, Missouri. You're going to work for Grayson Bailey's campaign. That is all." "That can't be all. I have to have a job." "I believe I just gave it to you." "That's not a job. That's a babysitting gig." She frowned thoughtfully. "Do you want me to seduce someone from the other side? Who's running against him?" "A celebrated Vietnam war hero, not to mention three-time congressman. His name is Walter Church." "Right. You want me to seduce him, then." 15
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"Luxuria, I want to make myself very clear." Lucifer slowly rose to his feet. "Thou shalt not commit adultery. Under no circumstances are you to seduce or influence anyone involved in either campaign. You're going there simply to serve as a staff member in Grayson Bailey's office. Nothing else." Though it seemed impossible, she deflated even more, her swarming mind woefully lost. It simply didn't make any sense. A Sin, one of Lucifer's hand-created children of destruction, sent on a simple, no-point job with no foreseeable objective other than to smile and nod at a human. This wasn't the sort of task any Sin fielded, especially not on a direct-order status from the Big Man himself. It was an inane complete waste of time, but she knew better than to press her luck any further. Lucifer could be a hoot and a half to work for, but there were definite times when he wasn't in the mood to be Mr. Fun Guy. To be honest, the past few weeks hadn't exactly been Fast Times at Ridgemont High. Everyone felt restless and shuffled, even those whose stations and duties hadn't changed in several millennia. The whole underworld was still acclimating to Ava's departure from the fold, and the hole it left among those who had known and loved her. Luxi was happy for her— no one deserved happiness more than their much shit-upon little sister—but she couldn't deny the gap Ava had left in her wake. Whether or not it was due to their origins—Luxi and Ava were both Sins of excess, and therefore had a bond they couldn't claim with the others—was a different matter. Admittedly, Luxi and Ava were also very close with their 16
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brother, Gula, for the same reason ... yet there were some things one simply didn't share with non-female siblings. Ava was happy. That was all that mattered. She and Dante were still in Hicksville, USA, though why was anyone's guess. Luxi had expected her sister to hit the road for a place with a bit more speed and nightlife. Small southern towns really weren't Ava's scene, but if it made her happy, she supposed questioning it made little sense. Until now, Luxi had been eager to get back to work. Nothing revved her motor like stalking human targets and creating interesting methods by which to facilitate her orders. With Ava's spot vacant, she had suspected Lucifer would demand everyone double down for a rough few months until they found a replacement. Instead, Luxi's first official assignment was a liberal preacher-turned-candidate, and she had no ostensible motive. When she didn't fire another question, Lucifer reached into one of the drawers of his desk and produced a manila folder, the tab reading BAILEY, G with Luxuria scribed next to it in elegant penmanship. It was the same method by which he catalogued all important assignments, though for whatever reason, seeing her particularly frivolous task given the same lofty status as others made her want to laugh. "I sent Barry up to fill out an application on a townhouse," Lucifer said. "You were approved." Luxi twirled a finger in the air. The Four Horsemen, War, Famine, Death, and the Beast—or Steve, Joe, Frank, and Barry, as they preferred—had little to do until the end of 17
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days, therefore most commonly served as Lucifer's lackeys. Whenever he needed a task done, they were typically the ones first called upon. It was the ass-end of getting landed with a job that consisted more of its large overture than the perpetually delayed one-night-only performance. "A checking account has likewise been established in your name." Lucifer handed her a checkbook with the name Luxi Daimon inscribed in the upper left hand corner, then returned to fishing through his papers. "I've also taken the liberty of approving you for a hundred thousand dollar credit limit on your new..." He frowned at the small square of plastic. "Empire State credit card." "Empire State." He shrugged. "They had the best rates." "They approved a hundred thousand dollar limit?" "I'm the King of Hell. Would you say no to me?" Luxi's eyebrows flickered. Fair point. "I'm taking this is for emergency expenses only?" "Do I look like the kind of guy who gives a damn what you charge?" "No, you look a lot more like the kind of guy who would resort to a bad pun on a checking account." Luxi waved her checkbook. "My last name is Daimon?" "Not many people will understand the significance." "But we're banking a pastor won't." "Luxuria," Lucifer said sternly, "unless you go around blabbing that you're here on assignment from Hell, I honestly don't think you'll get anything more than a joke or two. And even then, your cover wouldn't be blown so much as your ass 18
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would be thrown into an asylum, and then you'd have to have someone check you out." "And that someone wouldn't be you." He smirked. "What do you think?" "I think I'll bite the bullet, take the jokes, and do me some retail therapy when it all gets to be too much." Luxi snagged the credit card from Lucifer's grasp, tapping it eagerly against her fingernails. "What's paying the bill this time?" "I'm sure I'll find something." It was one of Lucifer's hobbies. Aside from sending his Sins out on their various tasks, he likewise established large dollar accounts, typically offshore, in which he could wire funds to whatever miscellaneous expense funds he needed at the moment. Most of Hell's inhabitants assumed Lucifer fronted his expenses by means of conjuring money out of the sky, but those close to the King of Hell knew otherwise. He liked maintaining integrity, and didn't much advocate getting humans—unmarked humans whose future didn't reside in Hell—into trouble for means they couldn't control. Therefore, he'd started sending up agents as early as the Flood to seize artifacts that could be reintegrated every few hundred years and sold to the highest bidder. Lucifer still had a few prized relics in his personal collection. Luxi wagered he wouldn't release the Ark of the Covenant unless one of his people burned down the Vatican. It still came up at the occasional staff meeting. Luxi's eyes remained on the credit card a minute longer before she looked again to Lucifer. He was pulling out all the 19
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stops. While funds were always needed in some small order to support assignments in which the Sins fully embedded themselves into human culture to get near their target, checking accounts and credit cards were never used together. Hell would have gone broke a long time ago with Invi around, were it the case. The fact that Lucifer had handed over so much meant there was something else in the mix. Something he hadn't divulged and wouldn't divulge until it suited him. Even knowing as much, Luxi couldn't resist prodding one last time. She knew she wouldn't get a straight answer, but it didn't hurt to try. "This guy's important to you, isn't he?" she asked softly. "Grayson Bailey. There's something going on with him." Lucifer didn't meet her gaze. "Nope, not really." She grinned tightly. That was his way of saying yes but he didn't want to admit it. She slid the card into her pocket and tossed her dark, wavy hair over her shoulder. All in all, the big guy liked his privacy. If he wanted her in Springfield, there was a reason. He'd tell her when the time came. "You got it, Boss," Luxi said. "One babysitting gig coming up." "Glad to hear it." She kept her eyes on him but he never looked back. It was his way of telling her the meeting was over. She had her assignment, she knew what was expected. Except it made no sense. Not yet. She trusted it would in the end. Springfield was a moderately-sized city in Missouri, claiming over a hundred and fifty thousand residents—half a million counting the surrounding area. It was also boring as 20
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fuck. A quick scan around town revealed little in the way of scandal or interest. There were three movie theaters, one mall, a few bowling alleys, a church on every street corner, one or two notably tall buildings, but nothing more that screamed anything beyond what Lucifer had already told her. It was the town the Bible had built. Her home for the next however long. Luxi was a woman of creature comforts. She liked clubs, dancing, drinking, getting slutty in the girl's room, and making drunken dares with Ava over who could best belt out I Will Survive into a karaoke microphone. Springfield had a few clubs that desperately wanted to belong in larger cities, and while the downtown nightlife seemed a bit more thrilling than she would have otherwise anticipated, the immediate future seemed dim. What the hell was she to do with all this time? She made the rounds as best she could, stopping by the mall to exercise the awesome charging abilities that came with her new credit card and procure a wardrobe befitting the Sin of Lust in a repressed southern town. It likely wouldn't be office-appropriate for Grayson Bailey, but given the broad perimeters of her orders, she couldn't care enough to stop. After scouring the town for signs of anything interesting, Luxi retired to Bingham Hill, a long stretch of road alongside one of the larger highway intersections that had the unfortunate local moniker of Apartment Lane. She found her new digs, a crossbreed between older fashion and technology, much as she expected to find it. Cherry Lane Apartments. Like everything else, it left a lot to be desired. 21
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Her new townhouse consisted of two floors. There was a living area, a pocket-bathroom, and a small kitchen on the lower level, two bedrooms and a bath above. Barry the Horseman hadn't done much in way of decorating or acquiring furniture, and though Luxi wouldn't expect it of him, she didn't much like the idea of crashing on a sofa or sifting through the pile of clothes someone had left in the guest bedroom for something salvageable. It didn't hit until nightfall, the total mess of a situation in which she'd landed herself. It was one thing listening to Lucifer give her orders, talk about watching over some baby politician, and do nothing that demanded any effort on her part as a Sin. It was something else entirely being stuck in the middle of nowhere with no guide as to what she was supposed to do aside from make sure Grayson remained on his intended path. There had to be something on the guy—a mistress, a love child, a deal signed in blood—with the boss to grant him the attention he'd received. Luxi sighed and flopped onto the sofa, wincing as it whined and sank below her weight. Her thoughts again turned to her sister. She knew Ava hadn't felt like this—her excursion in Mississippi hadn't been an assignment so much as a perceived run for her life in desperation to escape Lucifer's wrath—but Luxi couldn't help but wonder if her sister could relate. While Luxi's predicament was more forced banishment, Ava had likewise found herself confined in a small Southern town with nowhere to turn and no direction to face. She'd also had the good fortune to realize her pet vampire, the one who had trailed after her for centuries, was hot as all hell and 22
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dynamite in the sack, not to mention hopelessly in love with her. Luxi blew at loose strands of her hair. There was little chance of a repeat performance here. Aside from being unable to claim the heart of a vampire or any demon that might have crossed her path in the last few hundred years, Luxi was an agent independent of the heart. Love, the sort of love Ava had been lucky enough to find, seemed the stuff out of fairytales. Or better yet, Big J's infinite compassion. She knew it existed—there, somewhere, in the void of all that was and all that would be, but at every turn, Big J struck her as an enormous tool with size issues, and the compassion all the poets wrote about fell short of the real deal. Thus, in the meantime, Luxi was confined to the mortal realm without rhyme or reason. She really missed Ava. This new setup totally sucked. [Back to Table of Contents]
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Chapter Two The latest numbers weren't encouraging. It wasn't really a surprise, yet somehow Grayson Bailey felt his stomach fall every time a new poll was released. Twenty-one percent of registered voters thought he was a devil worshipper. Twenty-one percent. The rest of the numbers fell somewhere in the margins of militant atheist to secret gay Nazi, and while these results didn't necessarily represent the overwhelming sentiment of every inhabitant in town, he knew from experience the college vote could only help him so much. He needed to apply his focus in the homes, hearts and minds of his constituents. Here in his hometown, where suddenly no one respected his name. "Goddamn it." Grayson barely glanced up from the report. If twenty years had taught him anything, it was to keep from blinking at John's surly growl and expletive of the day. The closer the race, the more colorful the language; with the latest poll data, it was fortunate he hadn't uttered anything more controversial. John stopped short of his desk, sighing loudly. Grayson hazarded a guess. "So you've seen them." "The numbers." "Yeah. They aren't good." "That's one way of putting it. I'd say they were two-dayold shit that hasn't been flushed, but I like your optimism." 24
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Grayson huffed a short laugh, raising his head. It was late; most of the office workers and interns had gone home for the day, leaving their cramped headquarters feeling abnormally large and abandoned. "It'll pick up," he said. "You've been saying that for weeks now." "Hey, you're the campaign coordinator. I'm just the guy who's sitting here." John hissed and tore a hand through his curly hair. The man had spent most of his adult life with a receding hairline, which gave his expressive face an air of general hostility most came to associate with his dry sense of humor, and on bad days, his skill with the proverbial bullwhip. "We've had you out there every day," he reasoned. Grayson shook his head. "They haven't gotten to know me yet." "You've only lived here your whole life." "And how long is that really?" "Thirty-four years." He shrugged. "Maybe they hold my youth and vitality against me." John gestured emphatically. "How can you joke around about this?" "If you don't laugh, you cry, right?" "You must be laughing a lot." "I try to have a good sense of humor." The other man sighed again, running his hand along his jaw, a look of manic desperation coloring his eyes. "I don't have to tell you again why this is important to me, do I?" 25
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Grayson snickered. He heard this at least twenty-five times a day, and had it not been for the fact he knew John as well as he did, he might believe his friend were making up stories to convince him of his dedication. "Yes. Please, tell me why my campaign is important to you." "I left Washington for you." "Yeah, I still don't get that. This is small-town politics, John." "You don't think outside the box." "There's a box now?" "This election will make or break your political career." "Great. But no pressure or anything." "I'm not kidding, Grayson. People like you just don't get into politics. People like me do. That's why you have such a shot at getting elected ... if you just lived somewhere else." John sighed again, collapsing into the open seat beside Grayson's desk. "Why couldn't you be from Rhode Island or New Hampshire or one of those nice New England states?" "Not sure. Here's another question: is it really necessary for the English language to have the words flammable and inflammable? That's always bothered me." "You're not helping." "I didn't realize that was my role in this one-way conversation." "Grayson—" "Look, it's late and we've both had a really busy month and a half. I don't want to talk about things that we can't get done between now and tomorrow right now." Grayson wet his lips and again turned his attention to the poll data. The 26
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numbers began blurring. What he really needed was a good night's rest, possibly followed by a day spent in bed watching Scrubs reruns on Comedy Central. "These numbers—" "Won't change between now and tomorrow morning, but tomorrow morning is when we can start strategizing how to get the word out that I'm not the Antichrist." For whatever reason, John perked up at that. "Actually, that might be an improvement. Some of the fundamentalists in the area might wanna hurry you into power to speed up the rapture." "I don't think it works that way. In the movies, the Antichrist is almost always the one that ends up dead." "We've gotta focus on getting you out there more," John said. "And here I thought I'd been out there more." "No, I mean out there out there. Out there where the people are. The public likes you. They just don't know they like you." "Telling the public what they think has always been a key part in winning elections." "But this is what they want. How many members do you have in Brentwood?" "Two hundred or so." John nodded. "And how many of them have a bad thing to say about you?" "One or two, depending on the sermon." "And these are good Christian people. Good Christian people who know you and like you." 27
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"Amazingly at the same time." "You're just sitting on a hot commodity there." "No," Grayson said, shaking his head. "I'm not exploiting my congregation for political gain. Besides, two hundred people isn't the whole southwest." "No, but—" "No buts. It's just not happening." He rose to his feet, loosening his necktie. "We had this mapped out all different, you and I. It's hard to sell a candidate with good, Christian values in this region when his wife ran off with the milkman." John's brow furrowed. "I thought Amily ran off with your associate minister." "I prefer my version." He'd gone almost a day without thinking of her, which was admirable, and testified more to his frantic schedule than a show of true willpower. A year and a half had passed. More than enough time to nurse his wounds and move on, but the weight of her betrayal refused to alleviate, and he couldn't get himself to move on without analyzing every syllable they had exchanged over the last six months of marriage. The run for state senate had been in the playbooks for three years now. It wasn't something one just up and decided to do—not if they wanted to do it right. There were things to consider, money to raise, profiles to build, relationships to forge, and a litany of other things more and more hopefuls forgot around election time. Waiting for John had been among the top priorities; John was a career politician, a genius in his field, and a longtime friend. They had bonded over chocolate milk in second grade and remained close ever since. When 28
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John's ambitions took him from Springfield to Washington, he'd made sure to keep in touch. John had also started talking nonsense a few years back about Grayson running for office. The chatter had been ignored or laughed off until one day it didn't seem so much like an insane leap as the right thing to do at the right time. Everything else had fallen into place—marriage, the pulpit, and financial security—and running for office, while not a lifelong ambition, was the next natural step in his career. Then Amily had run off with Pastor Dean Tanner. Granted, that relationship hadn't lasted—word had it none of her flings since filing for divorce had any sort of staying power. Then again, Amily never had been the sort to settle down. "Amily would've made a great asset," John mused. "Yeah. You should've run that by her before she decided to get biblical with half the town." At least John had the sense to recognize the edge in his voice. "Have you heard from her?" "Since when?" "Since ... the last time you heard from her?" "No." When John didn't say anything further, Grayson slipped his suit jacket off his chair and wormed his arms inside. There were times he suspected his friend slept only to give his subconscious a chance to throw ideas his otherwise detailfocused brain couldn't dream up during waking hours. That wouldn't be Grayson. Not right now, at least, and with the way the polls trended, not likely in the future. 29
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It would be less of a headache to everyone, John especially, if Grayson adapted more of a straight politician's line of thinking, yet it wasn't in his nature. Though winning was his objective, Grayson would be the first to admit his campaign was one more on ideals than political strategy, which bothered his staffers to no end. However, in this particular corner of Missouri, people whose beliefs fell on the outskirts of the norm often felt alienated and outcast. At the very least, he could be their voice. He could help them see they weren't as alone as they thought. Grayson didn't realize he'd started for the door until John's footsteps slowed to a walk at his side. "What do you have on the docket for tomorrow?" "Nina and I are going over the rally schedule," Grayson replied, pushing open the office doors with one hand and retrieving his keys from his pocket with the other. "Clark's flight schedule keeps changing." John laughed. "That's a US senator for you." "We also have the intern coming in." "What intern?" "You know, the intern. From MSU." "We have any number of interns working for us already. Am I expected to remember their names?" "This one is from the Poli-Sci department." John snorted. "Again, you say that as though it means something special." "Yeah, well, she's supposed to be something special. Her professor thinks she just might be the next you." "You only wish there were more of me." 30
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Grayson's lips quirked, a cool blast of autumn air whispering across his face. Nighttime in the Ozarks was a singular experience, Springfield's geography providing a special marriage of the urban and rural. It was the third largest city within state lines, but it took very little to be completely emerged in wilderness. Grayson's office headquarters were located alongside one of the busier streets; heading east would get him on the highway within two minutes. If he kept going, in ten minutes the blinking city lights would be nothing but a memory; only the stars and the glare of oncoming traffic would light his way. During his youth, Grayson had entertained a strange lovehate relationship with the town. There was very little to do in terms of socializing, and since he'd been a pretty straightlaced kid, entertainment had been difficult to come across. In high school he would have given his left arm to live somewhere else, anywhere else. He'd boasted loudly about how quickly he'd shake the dust of his hometown off his shoes before making a mad dash to freedom. By the time college rolled around, he'd realized the improbability of going anywhere but the local state school. And the longer he stayed, the less he wanted to leave. Then he'd met Amily, and he'd realized in Springfield he was destined to remain. Now, years later, years wiser, standing in the parking lot of his rented office space alongside Sunshine Street with a failed marriage behind him and a failing campaign ahead, his headspace felt cluttered and confused. The prospect of what lay beyond the horizon both terrified and invigorated. 31
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Campaigns themselves had a charged energy about them, and it was easy to get addicted to the rush. He'd canvassed and phone-banked a few times for local and national elections, but never had he been in the dead center of a political endeavor. It felt so much larger than him. Right now, everything did. "Grayson?" He blinked slowly, then dragged his gaze to John. "Yeah?" "You kinda spaced out just there." "Yeah." "Everything all right?" Grayson nodded. "Yeah." "Okay, well, if you get spacey on the road, pull over. These people might have voted for a dead man once, but I don't think we can convince them to do it again." He laughed. "Goodnight, John." "Remember: arrive alive." Grayson triggered his Nissan's keyless entry and favored John with a parting wave. "If I don't, I promise you'll be the first to know." "Yeah?" "Yeah. I'll haunt your ass until you're in the ground." John frowned thoughtfully. "I actually might be able to do something with that." "If anyone could, it'd be you." She used to love this part: the first day on the job, the thrill of the unknown, the rush of the hunt. Humans were fascinating creatures, diverse despite their commonalities. It was unlike any hierarchy in the pit or above. There were 32
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opinions, philosophies, theories, sciences, religions, politics, and a million other little things that most demons took for granted. There was also doubt in every facet of daily existence. From wardrobe decisions to deity worship, seeds of uncertainty freckled the human psyche, and the concept blew Luxi's mind away. Her world sat on a foundation of absolutes; the thought of not knowing what lurked behind Door Number One was at once riveting and full of excitement and enough to scare one pissless. Whether or not Big J intended his most treasured creation to likewise hold the most power while wielding the least was anyone's guess. Personally, Luxi had always figured it was a cosmic mistake, but she wouldn't complain. It made her job entertaining as all hell, and she enjoyed every second. Or she had. Luxi pried her eyes open. She was on her back in a strange bed. Nothing new there. Nothing new wherever she looked. It hadn't bothered her before—at least, she hadn't noticed it if it did. Everything felt a little surreal, and the sensation was a little jarring. Since creation, since the second her newborn eyes first looked into the face of the devil, she had known her purpose. It was easy to blame her latest displacement on Ava, but she knew her sister's rebellion was a small part of a large problem. She didn't feel like herself. She didn't feel like Lust or Sin or any of the fun stuff. She felt very much like a woman 33
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plopped in Nowheresville with an ambiguous assignment and an even more ambiguous objective. What the hell was Lucifer trying to prove? Luxi sighed and tossed the blanket aside. No sense moping around the townhouse. She had places to go and people to not seduce, and the quicker she started, the sooner it'd be over and life would be back to normal. The campaign headquarters wasn't far from here, which gave her ample time to prepare. According to the schedule Lucifer had given her prior to leaving Hell, she was to report at Grayson Bailey's office by nine o'clock that morning. And since Luxi never did anything half-assed, even assignments that made fuck-all sense, she'd make sure she looked fabulous before stepping outdoors. Everything felt backward, from the shower nozzle that only released hot water when applied on the wrong setting to the noisy dog in the neighboring apartment. Luxi scrubbed her skin free of sulfur and massaged a hundred and fifty dollar shampoo into her scalp. The towels were equally extravagant in terms of price and quality, as were the cosmetics she'd procured during the previous day's shopping extravaganza. Let no one say she did anything without style. Luxi wrung out her dark ringlets and applied her makeup— which she used sparingly, as today's fashion trended more toward less being more. Her skin was moon-pale, which complimented her long, midnight-black hair and made her ruby lips shine. She selected a pair of sleek black slacks and a low-cut red shirt that might as well have been painted on. The finishing touches came in the form of spiky, red high34
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heels and a diamond-studded choker she'd nabbed impulsively before deciding to call it a day. Lucifer might want her to keep her legs together, but that didn't mean she couldn't have fun while wasting her time. There was nothing like a small, repressed Midwest town with more churches than stop signs. Unless she was told otherwise, she'd entertain herself by spreading the blue-balls epidemic. Might as well. Nothing else to do. By the time she felt sufficiently slutted-up, she had fortyfive minutes to find the campaign headquarters. Luxi slipped downstairs while debating the virtues of a cinnamon roll, and nearly tripped when her gaze landed on a familiar, however unexpected face. "Son of a bitch," Luxi muttered. "When in Rome, you know? Knock?" "Hello to you, too." Her youngest sister, Invidia, stood in the middle of the room, her arms crossed and her large brown eyes narrowed with suspicion. The shock of an uninvited houseguest faded quickly, falling into a simpler detachment. "Sorry if I don't offer you a drink," Luxi said, brushing past her. "I'm kinda on a timetable here." "Just had to see it for myself." "See what?" "This whole setup," Invi replied. "Nice place. Good-sized town. Lucifer said it has something to do with a campaign." "Some shmuck named Grayson Bailey's running for Idon't-care and I'm here to ... fuck if I know." She turned around with a forced smile. "To what I do I owe this pleasure?" 35
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Invi shrugged, and Luxi did her best to stifle her temper. She loved her sister, she really did, but there was a lot more of Invi's namesake in her nature than any of the other siblings could claim. The very fact lust and greed shared basic principles had, by default, made Ava one of Luxi's closest friends, and that was a bond Invi had always resented. "Gotta say," Luxi said, "you gotta start talking, else I'm gonna walk out that door." "I just wanted to know what was going on." She snorted. "You and me both, little sister." "This doesn't make any sense." "Tell me something I don't know." "With Ava being romancing it up with her vampire boy toy—" "Think they're serious, kid," Luxi said shortly. "Ava wouldn't quit over a fling." "Yeah, because that hasn't happened anytime recently." Luxi heaved a sigh. "You have a point, Invi?" she demanded. "Not really lookin' to get a lecture meant for someone else, if you catch my drift." "I didn't mean to—" "Yeah. Look, sis, I gotta split. Places to go. Whole lotta nothing to do." Invi took a step forward, holding up a hand. "I just wanted know what's going on," she said. "No one else is on assignment right now, and for whatever reason, he takes you off the leash to do ... whatever this is."
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"Really appreciate the recap. You should do this more often." Luxi left her with a half-assed salute. "Make like a tree. I gotta skedaddle." She didn't bother awaiting a reply, but allowed the world around her to fall away in a swift, dizzying spiral. Teleporting made ending annoying conversations simple. [Back to Table of Contents]
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Chapter Three Over the centuries, Luxi had found herself in more than one questionable situation. If ever there had been a time when she felt self-awareness or modesty, it had long escaped the contours of her memory. And while she experienced nothing relatable to nervousness at present, she couldn't deny feeling some discomfort at the knowledge she was completely out of her element. It wasn't like the opinion of any of these humans actually meant anything. Perhaps it was more the uncertainty of her assignment—the wide yet somehow narrow guidelines Lucifer had established. Luxi hated going in blind. She hated it when things came from nowhere. She really hated this. Luxi threw open the front door of the Greenwood Management Center, temporary headquarters for Grayson Bailey's campaign. She fluffed her hair and strolled with confidence she didn't feel toward the center desk, where a pretty blonde woman with a long oval face sat viewing her computer monitor. She could do this. She could. After a prolonged second, the receptionist pulled her gaze off the screen and flashed a friendly smile. "Hello. How may I help you?" "I'm here for the thing," Luxi replied. "The campaign?" "Yeah, that's it." 38
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"Are you volunteering? The phone bank is off Glenstone, just south of Grand. I can give you directions—" Luxi shook her head. "No, I'm not volunteering. Or, I guess I am, but I was told to come here. I'm an intern." "An intern." The woman's tone turned skeptical, glancing at Luxi's low-cut blouse. "You're Ms. Daimon?" "The one and only." "The Ms. Daimon sent here by Professor Pan from Missouri State?" Luxi stifled a groan. Pan. Lucifer's odd sense of humor had struck again. He loved playing with mythology, and utilizing a Greek god, one whose horns and faun legs had inspired the medieval rendering of the Christian devil, was exactly the sort of thing he'd find entertaining. The King of Hell, cursed with a love of lame jokes and obscure puns. "Yes," she agreed. "Professor ... Pan." "The Ms. Daimon with a Bachelors in Marketing who is working on her Masters in Political Science?" Lucifer had really pimped out her credentials. "Yep," Luxi replied. "Looks like." "The Ms. Daimon who—" "Honey-pie, as I said, the one and only. Kinda doubting this town has more than one Daimon in the phone book." The blonde's cheeks tinged red, but she pressed on, leaning forward to whisper loudly, "Ummm, did your professor speak with you about proper work attire? It's not an issue with volunteers, but since so much happens in this office, we need our interns to be—" 39
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"Look, my professor said shit," Luxi said, snappier than she intended. At any rate her words remained true—Lucifer had told her next to nothing about her behavior aside from not getting in anyone's pants. If there were wardrobe guidelines, he'd forgotten to share. "I'm here for the work." The blonde nodded. "I'm sorry if I... You see, we just have a certain look we find appropriate—" "I'm inappropriate?" Luxi glanced down. True, she had selected her wardrobe with a mind to rebel—and arouse—but whatever she'd told herself, she didn't feel she had crossed the point of no return. And while she might look extra curvy and cleavagey, she didn't see anything that would warrant a scolding. Her neckline plunged and the satiny material of her blood-colored blouse hugged her skin, but her nipples weren't showing and she hadn't exposed the world to her midriff. Honestly, for someone who had singlehandedly inspired Heffner's career, she felt she looked conservative. Or as conservative as she got, which, granted, wasn't saying much; still, some allowances should be considered. She was Lust, after all. "Ms. Daimon," the blonde insisted, "I really don't mean to offend." "Uh huh. What's your name?" "Nina Matlock. I'm personal assistant to Mr. Stuart who runs the Bailey campaign." "Okay, well, I'm here for that last thing, so I don't really see why you care." The woman's blush deepened. "We just have certain expectations from our staffers. I..." Nina paused and gave her 40
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another long look before sitting back with a defeated smile. "You know what? It's fine. Let's go find your desk and get started." Luxi shrugged. "Now you're talkin'." In reality, she hadn't really given much consideration to the work—the ticking that went on inside each operation Lucifer sent her to complete. Watching people operate inside their mouse cages was exhausting all on its own, and it seemed frivolous and small in the grand scheme of the universe—especially when it came to politics. The entire election system was a machine running on blood and faith that had little payoff in the end. People standing on their podiums and soapboxes, preaching to the choir about nothing anyone in the Great Beyond actually gave a damn about. God, it was mostly depressing in those terms. Nina stopped at a corner desk and gestured. "Here we go. I'm, ummm, not sure exactly what John wants you to do—" "John?" "Yes. John Stuart. Grayson's campaign manager." She blinked. "Didn't Professor Pan mention John?" Luxi laughed. "Professor P must've forgotten. I would have remembered that name." The only American news Lucifer trusted was The Daily Show, and therefore it was the only American station he didn't have his children mess with. If he wanted something else, he looked at the BBC. "Just a word of caution: he hates being compared to Jon Stewart, the comedian." "Could've guessed that. Most politicians can't take a joke." 41
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"He can take a joke," Nina replied, though not even she looked convinced. "Well, John is ... well—" "Right behind you," a male voice interrupted, directing Luxi's attention to the man who seemingly materialized behind her tour guide. He was of medium height, medium build, had curly brown hair and a receding hairline. He also had the war-torn face of someone who had aged prematurely due to stress and lack of sleep. More importantly, he looked like someone who desperately needed a fuck fest. "Ah," Nina said, "John." "That's me," the man agreed, his attention on Luxi. "Who ordered the hooker, and what's the return policy?" The blonde's jaw went slack. "Oh, my God." Luxi arched her eyebrows and planted her hands on her hips. "The fuck you say, little boy?" "Seriously. Is this a joke?" "John," Nina hissed, "this is Luxi Daimon, our new intern." John barked a laugh. "Yeah, that's happening." "Professor Pan sent her from Missouri State." "I thought she was a Poli-Sci chick, not a call girl." He kept his gaze on Luxi a beat longer before breaking away and shaking his head. "All right, well, this was a nice little break from reality, but send Pretty Woman back to her street corner. We have an election to win." "John, we can't just throw her out—" "I gotta job to do here," Luxi snapped. He huffed. "Well, maybe you shoulda thought of that before dressing up like Madonna's sluttier half. You know where the door is? Well, find it." 42
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Luxi's hands fell to her sides, balling into fists. God, if she weren't on the clock, she'd have this guy leveled and the whole building with him. It was times like these she really wished she kept a running tab of Lucifer's preferred punishments to weigh the pros and cons of completely breaking rank. "You wanna ask me again?" John rolled his eyes and glanced to Nina. "Just get her outta here before Grayson sees—" "Before I see what?" It was one of those rare sitcom moments that only came around once every few hundred years—the sort she wished she could freeze and replay to soak in all the highlights when she wasn't so distracted. As it was, she could barely keep her jaw from hitting the floor when her gaze first roamed over the face that had to belong to Grayson Bailey. Luxi was no stranger to beauty. Fuck, she'd spent centuries happily defiling the pure and exploiting the lustful urges of the repressed. She'd bedded royalty, clergy, the rich and famous and the poor and unknown. She'd posed for paintings no artist could claim and maintain credibility, and while all her indiscretions were for the sake of her work, she wouldn't deny enjoying every second. There really wasn't anything surprisingly appealing about Grayson Bailey, except he wasn't what she expected. A pastor running for public office had conjured any number of images, none of which fitting the bill of the faultless specimen standing before her. The wrinkles she'd pictured roaming his skin didn't exist, nor did the sour brow, stern expression, and crooked back. In short: he was gorgeous. He stood not 43
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overbearingly tall, but tall enough to make his presence known. He also possessed thick, wavy dark hair that didn't look groomed or sloppy, a strong jaw, deep, expressive eyes, broad shoulders ... all over melt-in-your-mouth yumminess. Grayson was a patchwork piece of perfection, as though someone had hand-crafted everything she looked for in a fun romp and plopped him a few feet away. "Holy mother of gimme-some," Luxi murmured. "Thank you, big daddy." "What?" Nina whispered. "What?" John demanded, whirling around. Grayson's cheeks darkened. "Umm, hello. And thank you. I think." Luxi grinned and shrugged. "No, thank you for the view." "Can we keep her around?" Grayson asked, turning to John. "I don't know who she is, but she's already bumped my mood from grumpy to flattered and confident, and I've only known her ten seconds." "This is Luxi Daimon," the other man said. "And she's leaving." "I am?" "She is?" "I tried to warn her," Nina murmured, staring at the ground. John sighed and pinched the space between his eyes. "Of course she is, Grayson. Look at her! She's a tramp stamp away from being a two-dollar hooker." Luxi's brow furrowed. "I didn't realize full-body inspections were a part of the gig. Do you want me to get naked here, or is there a dark room somewhere?" 44
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"Yeah," John drawled. "That might pass in your professor's office, sweetie, but here we do grown-up work. Why don't you find somewhere else to get your rocks off? I'm sure some pole is missing its stripper right about now." "John!" Grayson snapped. "Oh, my God," Nina squeaked again. Luxi said nothing for a long beat. Then another slow grin spread across her lips. "You know, I think I like you after all." "Thanks," John replied dryly. "I'll write home to my mother." It would have been incredibly easy to drag this out. She wasn't going anywhere, of course, but even after she made that clear she still had a ton of time to kill. To keep busy, it seemed, all she had to do was pull some trashy line out of her ass and John would go fifteen rounds on how she earned her keep with her legs spread. And while that would be entertaining as tickling her brother Ira, she doubted Lucifer would appreciate it. Better start acting like she gave a damn. "Look," Luxi said contritely, "I didn't realize there was a dress code." "Of course not," John snapped. "This is only a campaign." "Hey, I could've worn a halter and a miniskirt. Trust me when I say this is me done up with reserve." Luxi shrugged. "I'm a Gen-Y gal." And she had been for over two centuries. "Sorry if the denture-cream brigade can't take it. But, if you like, I'll come back tomorrow with a peasant blouse and a floor-length skirt." "Come back tomorrow?" John barked. "Sorry, Priscilla, this isn't an audition." 45
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"John, stop it. She's exactly what we need." Grayson's eyes were on her face again, though the humor had vanished. It was a look unlike anything Luxi had received—not lust, not exactly, though there were definite indicators. It was more blatant eagerness wrapped inside hopeful idealism. She'd never seen a look like that, and it sent tremors through her body. Luxi beamed. "Just what a girl likes to hear." "What do you mean what we need?" John demanded. "How in the world is she what we need?" "The youth vote," Grayson replied. "The what?" "Youth vote," Nina supplied. "I think he's talking Gen-Y." "I can work the Gen-Y angle," Luxi agreed. John's nostrils flared. "She can work any angle so long as it's not in this office." "I believe," Grayson said, reaching for Luxi's hand, "that isn't your call." She smirked as their fingers entangled, doing her best to ignore the electricity that jolted through her body. It was surprising but not to the point where she felt concerned. Her targets weren't always sex on a stick, but she had bedded many a fine-looking fella. Tinglies in the appropriate southern regions weren't out of the ordinary. Luxi was not going to go all soft and cushy now, especially not over some human she couldn't even bone while on the mortal plane. Still, he was mighty pretty to look at, and there was no harm in looking. "Whoa, sucka," she called to John. "You've been outranked." The man ignored her. "Grayson, you can't—" 46
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"Last I checked, I'm the boss of you, not the other way around," Grayson replied. "Your objection is noted. Ignored, but noted." "I hate this already," John muttered. Girls like Luxi Daimon simply didn't live in the Ozarks. Grayson did his best to keep his eyes aimed where they wouldn't land somewhere offensive. It wasn't like he hadn't seen a pretty face before. Hell, despite Springfield's seemingly immovable stance between urban and rural living, it was a college town and received a new influx of women every semester. While females from each freshman class might possess a purely physical appeal in some way or another, they all started to look alike after a while. He supposed he was old fashioned that way. Point of fact, he'd never blinked in the direction of another woman during his marriage ... but he knew they were there. Luxi wasn't just pretty. There wasn't a word for what she was. Grayson directed her to his office as quickly as he could, certain the hand holding hers would begin sweating, which was not the sort of impression he wanted to make. After John's irrational tirade, they'd be fortunate if she decided against reporting her experience to the News-Leader. And though he knew his role at the moment was to soothe over a perceived misunderstanding and assign Luxi a job within the campaign, Grayson's mind was on a completely different path. A path keen on resurrecting a part of his life he thought long dead. His pants tightened uncomfortably. Damn it, he picked the wrong day to wear jeans. 47
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The second they crossed the threshold into his office, he released her hand and gestured to the two empty chairs in front of his desk. "Have a seat," he said. "All righty," Luxi replied, reaching for the door. "Want me to close this?" "No." The word sounded harsher than he intended, but he couldn't help it. The thought of being in a closed perimeter with her made him uncomfortable. "I mean, no thank you." Luxi's hand fell to her side, a soft, almost vulnerable look washing over her face. It surprised him, though there was no earthly reason why it should. Just because she was confident didn't mean it was her only defining quality. "'Kay," she said instead. She moved forward and found a chair, dark strands of wavy hair falling across her face as she sat. "You're gonna run me through this, right?" Grayson smiled, his shoulders dropping. "Of course. But I do need to apologize for John." "Mr. Tasteful out there." "Right. He comes from a very different world." A small smile played with her lips. It was enchanting. "Who doesn't?" "Fair point." He hazarded a quick glance to the left. His office was a glass box against the southeast wall of the Greenwood building, which gave him a perfect view of almost every corner of the headquarters. John and Nina stood where he had left them, exchanging heated conversation. "He has a unique way of looking at things," Grayson continued. "He was a close Clinton advisor, and he was one of the masterminds that got McCaskill in office a few years back. He's completely 48
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DC upstairs, but Missouri's his home so he has a special way of regarding it." "A special asexual way?" Grayson offered an appreciative chuckle. "At times, I suppose. And while I very much disapprove of the way he approached the matter, we are going to have to tone down the Janet Jackson look." "Janet Jackson?" "I don't know. Is that a thing?" "From the eighties, maybe. I think we're now about some chick called Lady Gaga." "What the hell is a gaga?" "Last I checked it was a sound a baby made." "That's what I thought." "Guess we were both wrong." Luxi sighed and glanced down, studying her own attire. "All right, so I need to slut it down." "Not the words I'd use." "Yeah, but that's because you're all gentleman-like." Grayson smiled tightly. "John's going to want to put you on campus, handing out leaflets and the like, but I think it's better to keep you here. We want you in front of cameras and at press conferences, that way when you are on campus and speaking on behalf of the campaign, people will be more prone to listen to you." "Television, huh?" "You're not camera shy, are you?" She barked a laugh. "Oh no, darling. The camera loves me." 49
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"Somehow I knew that." Grayson opened one of the cabinet drawers and fished out the file Nina had handed him a few days earlier. "All right, so what else is there?" "That me?" she asked, waving at the manila folder. "Your whole life confined between these pages." "Yeah," she purred. "Doubtful." It was safer to ignore that comment. Innocuous as it might be, everything she did, every word she uttered seemed loaded. Instead, Grayson opted for pitiful small talk. "So, tell me a bit about yourself. Are you from Springfield originally?" "Um, no." "Oh yeah? Where are you from?" Luxi hesitated. "South." "The South?" "Way south." Grayson nodded. "Big family?" Her eyes danced. "Oh yeah. Huge. I'm one of seven." "Seven?" He whistled. "Catholic?" He didn't know what happened. A crackle of laughter bubbled off her lips, and damn, if she didn't light up when she laughed. It didn't die, either. Rather than tapering off completely, her giggles began to fall, then, as if remembering what was so funny to begin with, the storm rolled back. He had no idea how long it lasted, and he didn't care. Her shoulders shook and her chest heaved, and she had him so entranced he didn't care if she laughed forever. She didn't, of course. Eventually, her laughter faded to a soft chuckle, but by then she had the attention of the whole building. Grayson just prayed she didn't look out the window. 50
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"Oh, shit," Luxi cried, wiping her eye with her thumb in that dainty way girls did who wanted to spare their makeup. "No. Not Catholic." "Yeah," he said, laughing uncertainly. "I think I got that figured." "Actually, my crew's not exactly the church-going type. No offense or nothing. I know you're tight with Big ... with the man upstairs." "None taken," he assured her. "Though now I'm really curious. Atheist?" "Oh, honey. I wish." Grayson smiled tightly, a familiar pain striking his chest. He knew that feeling well. "Okay, then," he said. "We won't give you any tasks today, aside from answering the phones and getting acquainted with the layout of the place." "Whatever you say, big daddy." A shiver ran down his spine. "And maybe not so much with the pet names." She shrugged and bounced to her feet. "'Kay. Is that all?" Not even close. "Yeah," Grayson said, swallowing hard. He had no earthly reason to keep her in here, except his eyes wanted to roam across her curves and contours, and he would not be one of those politicians. Or men. "Unless I think of something." "Good to meet you, and all that," she said. "I'll just go find John and drive him up the wall until he gives me something to do." "All right." He stood and reached across the desk. "Let me know if you need anything." 51
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"Trust me," Luxi promised, "you'll be my first stop." Her gaze scaled down his body so slowly he could practically feel her fingers at his fly. And then it happened— something in his chest growled and his world, neat and ordered as it was, trembled with the threat of turbulence. It'd be easy, too. Very easy. Close the door, lower the blinds, slip his hands under that red blouse and see if her breasts felt as real as they looked. Political suicide aside, he wouldn't give a righteous damn. She was so beautiful and it had been so long. Long enough to make him want it. Long enough to make the burn hurt. This is not the place to start. Of course, the imagination existed for fictionalized encounters and wishful, however immoral, thinking. In the end, the real world left him with very concrete boundaries. When Luxi left his office, all he had was a painful erection and a headful of confusion for his efforts. [Back to Table of Contents]
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Chapter Four "We need to talk." Grayson didn't bother glancing up. He was surprised it had taken John as long as it had to ambush him. Nina was typically the last staffer to vacate the office, and had left more than a half hour earlier after double checking to ensure all the cabinets were locked and the computers were shut off. She was a true asset to the campaign, and what any of them would do without her was a question no one wanted answered. Still, that had left John alone and quiet for an uncharacteristically long time. The fact he'd waited at all was nearly enough to earn him brownie points. When Grayson didn't respond, John cleared his throat and pushed himself off the doorframe. "Did you hear me?" he asked, stepping into the office. "Yes, we need to talk," Grayson replied. "If you're going to break up with me, please don't make it in a place I have to see every day." "So you think this is funny." "I think if what we need to talk about dealt with the campaign, you would've sprung it on me before everyone clocked out for the day." He glanced up at last, but John didn't crack a grin. "This is about Luxi, isn't it?" "She's bad news, Grayson."
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"Because she didn't let you give her hell," he replied. "Believe it or not, there are people out there you can't scare into falling in line." "She walked in and suddenly the rules don't apply?" Grayson snickered. "Christ, John, you make it sound like she committed a felony. That's just the way girls her age dress." "Her age. You remember that. As in, she's much, much too young for you to ... I dunno, have some midlife, midcampaign crisis with." He rolled his eyes. "She's an intern." "Yes, and that's exactly the sort of headline we want to avoid." "Oh, give me a break—" "You tell me you would've let her stay if she didn't have those legs, and we don't have a problem." Grayson huffed incredulously and shook his head. "Sounds like you're the one noticing her legs. I'm just the guy who's trying to get elected." "So you hire some wannabe cocktail party joke because of her large..." John bounced his hands in front of his chest suggestively, his eyebrows perking. "GPA?" "Look, if I fired every pretty girl who had an interest in politics, not even Nina would make the cut." "Leave Nina out of this." Grayson pursed his lips and fell silent. He'd known he'd strike a nerve, which was why he hadn't shied away from pulling out that card. Nina and John had worked together for years, and when John uprooted himself from DC to move 54
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home, he hadn't even blinked when Nina likewise resigned her position and followed suit. They had dated here and there but decided their working relationship was more important than a personal one. Regardless, the tension between them was enough to power the campaign headquarters, and it was one of those secrets everyone knew. "I had no intention of bringing Nina into this or anything else," Grayson replied. "I'm merely stating a fact." John looked a little placated at that. "Yeah, okay," he said. "But that doesn't mean Luxi's is the face we want representing this campaign." "That's where you're wrong." "You have no way of knowing that." "And you have no way of knowing whatever it is you think you know." Grayson shrugged and leaned back. "Luxi is an energetic young woman with a good head on her shoulders." "Good heads on good shoulders don't come in here dressed like Delilah." "We talked about her wardrobe and I don't think it'll be a problem." John stared at him a long moment, then sighed and looked at the floor. "Well, girls like that don't like taking orders." "Are you going to counter every reasonable argument I present?" "Yes." "Girls like that don't seem fake when they get in front of cameras and give interviews. We have staff writers who try to capture the attention of younger voters, but she can do it with a wink and a smile." Grayson turned his attention back 55
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to his desk. "If she doesn't work, that's one thing, but with the numbers we've been staring down these last few weeks, there's nothing she can really do to hurt us." "Oh, Grayson, tell me you don't actually believe that." "If Walter Church wants to run a smear campaign, that's his prerogative." John nodded. "And you have no problem whatsoever returning the favor?" "I didn't say that." "Of course not. He'd only be attacking a well-known and popular minister. What could we possibly gain from exploiting that?" Grayson shot him a glare. "And you think doing the same to a war veteran is going to help us at all?" He looked down again and shook his head. "This is beside the point." "Will you please believe that I know what trouble looks like? That girl bathes in it every day." "I'll take it under advisement." "That's exactly what Bill told me before he stained Monica's dress." All right. He'd had enough. While he knew there were times he and John diverged on political strategy, Grayson was in no mood to sit still and be lectured over a moot point. The fact remained, other than his resounding belief Luxi would actually do a great deal to revitalize the campaign, that he actually liked her. He liked her well enough to want to see her the next day—see more of the girl he'd briefly encountered in his office. The girl whose eyes reflected a story deeper than she could likely share whenever he'd mentioned anything 56
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along the lines of family or faith. There was so much of himself in that look, and if nothing else, he wanted her around to get to know the woman behind the push-up bras and rouge lipstick. Grayson jumped to his feet and slammed his chair against his desk. "You understand by not showing her the door, we're probably saving face, right?" John blinked stupidly. "What?" "The way you treated her, the names you called her ... do you have any idea what sort of exposure that would give us if she ever decided to get in front of a camera and tell that side of our campaign?" The other man frowned thoughtfully. Truth was, he likely hadn't given the matter any such consideration. At times John had the most crippling tunnel vision of any man Grayson had known. How he'd gotten from the playground to Pennsylvania Avenue was anyone's guess. Calmer now, Grayson heaved another sigh. "Look, as I said, I talked with her about the dress policy and her penchant for being a little vocally..." "Stimulating?" John supplied. "Provocative. Anything she did after she left my office was just to annoy the shit out of you because you annoyed the shit out of her. What goes around comes around, right?" John fell quiet again, but it was short-lived. "Don't use language like that with anyone but me." "What, shit?" "Yes, shit. I don't want anyone who's not me hearing you say anything more profane than 'oh my goodness,' you got me?" 57
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He was only halfway kidding, but whatever his intention, it served in relieving what remained of the tension between them. Grayson nodded, laughing shortly. "Wouldn't look good for a minister, would it?" "I'd say not. They already have a reason to not like you." "Thank you. Thank you very much." "Just saying." John heaved a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair. "I'll lay off Elvira—" "Luxi." "Right. Luxi." Grayson frowned. "I get all the other references, but Elvira?" "Big boobs. Pale skin. Dark hair." "That's the second time you've referenced her breasts. Maybe you're the one with the fixation." John waved dismissively. "I'm too busy to have a fixation. Anyway, like I said, I'll lay off. Give her a few tasks to handle before we roll out this insane 'give the hot jailbait girl with a case of verbal diarrhea girl a microphone' plan of yours." "It's appreciated." "But if it blows up in your face, remind yourself this wasn't my idea." "Actually, you're kinda the guy I pay to take the fall." John released a loud groan, his head rolling back. "Why do I do this to myself?" "Because you're a glutton for punishment?" "That's not something they have a twelve-step program for, is it?" Grayson favored him with a tight grin. "Not in the Ozarks." 58
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"They should amend that saying," John replied. "You can't go home again? Well, you can, but you shouldn't." "Yeah. That's a good point. You should do something about that, you know." "First I gotta get you elected. Don't try to distract me." Grayson grinned and resituated his office chair. "You say distraction, I say attempt to save your life by avoiding a heart attack." "You're not a career politician until you've had at least three before forty-five." "Well, never say I didn't at least try to do you any favors." Normally, Luxi didn't give a crap about attracting attention. People saw fantastical things every day and either rationalized them away or became deranged conspiracy theorists; it seemed unnecessary retreating to dark corners to pop in and out of locations. Granted, that rule didn't apply when she was on assignment, especially if she was deep undercover. Lucifer might not be a hard-ass on all things, but he did consider secrecy important to continued survival. How that might have changed since Ava inadvertently blew the lid off the existence of the Sins, Luxi didn't know, but she had enough healthy fear of her boss to not test the waters. She chose the public restroom at a gas station to make her getaway, but she had no idea where she intended to go until she opened her eyes and found herself standing in an unfamiliar room. A really, really nice unfamiliar room. The ceilings were at least fourteen feet high and decorated with elegant, aged gold and brown wallpaper, which 59
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complemented the floor-length draperies. There was a small end table and a huge four-poster bed, which was currently occupied by a nude Ava bouncing enthusiastically on her vampire lover's cock. Luxi squeaked and slammed her hand over her eyes. "Oh shit." "Fuck all!" Dante roared. "I thought this popping in uninvited business was over." Ava apparently hadn't heard anything; the slap of naked flesh went on at least another five seconds before she released a breathless, "What?" "Appreciate the dedication, sweetheart," the vampire purred. "But might wanna slow down. We got company." Luxi winced and dropped her hand, aiming an awkward grin at her very dissatisfied sister. "Umm ... bad time?" Ava tossed her back her wine-red hair. "You've gotta be kidding me." "Well, shit, girl, make me feel welcome." "I'd be a little more hospitable if you and every other demon I've ever met would stop giving me a direct definition of coitus interruptus." Ava pouted and slid off Dante's lap with visible reluctance. "To what do we owe the ... ummm..." "Displeasure," Dante said, sitting up. "The pleasure part was cut short." Luxi snickered. "Oh, get over it. By the smell in this room, you two haven't stopped doing the nasty since Whytecliff." She paused. "And ... is it just me, or are things different? Weren't you in some shitty motel last time I—" 60
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"Interrupted a happy moment?" the vampire said dryly. He did not look nearly as amused as he should, but Luxi supposed she understood. It did seem she and her siblings had a habit of swinging by just after clothes had been shed. It came with being a part of a large family—a large family who could be anywhere in half a blink. Ava seemed a bit more forgiving. "We upgraded," she explained. "Or rather, Lucifer upgraded us to a B&B. Better digs and yummy food in the morning. I think it was his way of saying 'sorry I made you believe you were going to be Mammon-chow for two thousand years'." Luxi nodded in approval. "Gotta say, the man knows how to say he's sorry." "Speak for yourself." Dante huffed. "Why is it you're here? If Lucifer's reneged on his deal—" "He's a man of his word." "Yeah. That's why they call him the Prince of Lies." Luxi scoffed, but Dante's misgivings were to be expected. The last time they'd met, she'd been the messenger of particularly bad news, and though a few weeks had passed since they parted ways, the wound would likely take more than a gift basket to heal. "No, I just ... guess I was jonesing for some Ava time." Any lingering hint of irritation on Ava's face melted away. "Oh, Lux," she sniffled. "I've missed you, too." Dante raised his hand. "I haven't." Perhaps the best tactic was to ignore him. "If this is a bad time, I can—" 61
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"Bad time? Are you serious?" The vampire huffed. "What possibly clued you in that this was a bad time?" Ava scowled and smacked his shoulder. "Be nice." "I was trying to be before she—" "Oh, go rub one out in the shower. I'll make it up to you later." Dante grumbled something and crawled to the other side of the bed, not bothering to conceal his nudity. It provided Luxi with a much-appreciated view of his ass before he disappeared into the bathroom. She maintained he was one of the sexiest undead bastards she'd ever seen, even if he was as far from her type as it got. Ava magicked on a T-shirt and a pair of sweats without leaving the bed. She looked so good—carefree in ways Luxi had never seen. There was a healthy glow in her cheeks and happiness in her eyes that seemed downright foreign. For a brief sliver of a second, Luxi entertained a regrettable rush of jealousy, which wasn't like her but unavoidable all the same. Ava had been the last of Lucifer's Sins to reach maturity, and her attitude through the bulk of her existence had been largely humorless. Seeing her now with flushed skin and a smile that refused to abate was wonderful ... even if it left a funny pain in Luxi's chest. "So what's the buzz?" Ava asked after the shower began running. "Everything all right?" "Everything's a bit weird, if you want the truth. Lucifer still hasn't put anyone on active duty." "What? But ... it's been weeks now." 62
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Luxi nodded. During the period of confusion surrounding the Sins' fate, as well as the mess with the Binsfeld Brigade— six demons who felt they deserved the honors of being the Deadly Sins—Lucifer had grounded all assignments and brought the pit to a screeching halt. Like most everyone else, Luxi had assumed things would return to normal—or as normal as they could—once the debacle with Ava was settled. It was another reason Invi had visited that morning, and largely why their brief discussion had rubbed Luxi the wrong way. She had no idea why she was chosen to break the silence, and she definitely didn't know why Lucifer had his eyes set on Grayson Bailey. Nothing made much sense right now. "Really?" Ava prodded. "No one's on assignment?" "Well, I am." Her sister paused. "You understand how what you said then was misleading?" Luxi shrugged. "My assignment makes about as much sense as a gay republican, so no." "What's the assignment?" "I'm shadowing some state senatorial candidate." Ava licked her lips. "And?" "And that's it. Lucifer set up a townhouse for me, gave me a backstory, and I'm supposed to show up and ... I dunno, intern." "No seducing the candidate?" "No." "Or his opponent?" Luxi shook her head. 63
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"No making him go gaga over some barely legal piece of ass?" "Actually, my direct orders were to do none of those things. I'm just supposed to make sure the campaign runs smoothly." She sighed, her head rolling back. "Damn it, Ava, I don't know what the hell I'm doing. Today was my first official day on the job, and other than going on for eight hours on whether or not I'm a secret hooker based on my wardrobe—" She spread her arms. "It was boring as fuck." The look she received was meant to be encouraging, but Luxi just felt annoyed, even if it was deserved. She knew for a fact Ava had learned that look from her. "That sucks," Ava summarized redundantly. "Thanks. I read that in yesterday's news." "And you're sure you're not supposed to spread 'em for campaign boy?" "I think I'd be crucified if I did," Luxi replied. "Oh, and he's a minister. A fucking minister. What the fuck?" "A minister." "In Missouri," she added. The shower shut off in the other room, coaxing a borderline hopeful glance from Ava in its direction. Luxi had to repress her gag reflex. Her sister in love was almost as insufferable as her sister moping around the pit. "Wow," the redhead said as she looked back. "Being you right now sounds like the opposite of appealing." "This is why I came here. Words of comfort." Ava threw her arms up. "Sorry. Don't know what you were looking for. Is he some old fart?" 64
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Luxi bit her lip, her mind flashing to Grayson's broad shoulders and killer smile. Not to mention the boner he'd attempted to hide behind his desk after he'd led her into his office. She didn't know what it was, but just thinking about his face did weird things to her body. Her legs insisted on wobbling, and while it would have been easy to focus on the butterflies in her stomach, she chose to chalk it up to the confusion surrounding the day. She was not going baby soft. Not over some human she couldn't even fuck. "Actually, he's pretty much sex on a stick," she replied. "I would undress him on stage in a crowded theatre with my teeth if I were allowed." Ava giggled. "Uhhh..." "But that won't be a problem." "I dunno. You're pretty much a victim of hot." "I'm also a professional," Luxi retorted. "For all I know, this is some way for Lucifer to see if I'm gonna pull a you and run off with the first Mr. Perfect I see." Her sister made a face. "Thanks for that. And to be fair, I ran off with the second. Well, mister. Not the second perfect. I got the first where that goes." The bathroom door opened, and Dante reentered the room with a timely, "And there's only one Mr. Perfect around." Luxi's stare lingered long enough to appreciate the way her sister's vampire wore his bath towel—low on the hips, leaving little to the imagination. Granted, since she'd already seen Dante nude several times, the imagination wasn't exactly needed, but visual representations were still appreciated. "Someone's full of himself," she muttered. 65
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Ava smirked. "Yes, he is ... but it doesn't help your case when you're ogling." "I'm not ogling." Dante held up his hands. "Now, now ... let's not get in a catfight over me. Wait until we find some mud or oil, then you girls can have at it." He chuckled and crawled onto the bed behind Ava, dropping a kiss on her shoulder. "Though if I'm judging, I'm gonna be a bit biased." "Luxi has a bogus assignment and wanted to bitch," Ava told him. "She's watching over some minister who's running for office in Missouri." "How's that bogus?" "She's not supposed to sex him or anyone up." Dante's eyebrows shot skyward. "Bummer." Luxi shrugged. "Could be worse," she said. "At least I have an assignment to keep me occupied. I'd rot out of boredom with nothing but time." "You implying something?" Ava asked dryly. "Naw. Vamps are sexual creatures, and you just recently discovered that rubbing your good place gives you happies." "We have an offer, thank you," the redhead replied indignantly. "Lucifer dropped in couple days back," Dante agreed. "With timing not much better than yours. Said something about bounty hunting." "Bounty hunting?" "Demons that escape the pit," Ava said. "And fallen angels. Lucifer wants to start grabbing everything. Who knows? Maybe he'll start holding the angels ransom." 66
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"Still don't get that." Dante shook his head. "Why ransom something the owner doesn't want? I figure these angels are fallen for a reason." "Big J's a big baby," Luxi said. "It's like if a kid has a toy he doesn't play with, he still doesn't want any other kid to have it." Ava nodded. "It's just a way for Lucifer to play finders keepers. Anyway, it's an as-we-go job. We don't have to take it, and if we do, we do what we want with it. Lucifer understands we want freedom." "And it sounds like fun, either way," the vampire said. Luxi smiled, though she had little feeling behind it. Whatever it was she'd come here looking for remained out of reach. She felt a little pathetic, and that was not a good color on her. Talking with Ava almost always put her in a good mood, regardless of the topic, but her sister was not the girl she'd been. She was wiser, happier, and detached from the revolving world. It was wonderful and depressing all at once. Luxi was a creature of habit; she didn't take kindly to change. Ava might still be here, but she was far, far away. "All right, kiddies," Luxi said. "Gonna split." "Let us know if you need anything," her sister replied. Dante nodded. "But fucking knock next time." "Don't worry. That's a lesson you only learn—" "We're in the teens now," Ava said sharply. "Stop while you're ahead." "Yeah, yeah, yeah." Luxi sighed and rubbed her arms as the scene shifted and away, her body floating through time 67
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and space until she found herself in the living area of her temporary home. The day had provided no answers. Perhaps if she slept hard enough, she'd wake up far from the strange world in which she found herself. It didn't seem likely, and though she could exist without air, Luxi didn't feel like holding her breath. [Back to Table of Contents]
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Chapter Five After racking up another couple thousand or so in credit card charges, Luxi felt sufficiently retail-therapied. She made some wardrobe choices she knew John couldn't bitch about without looking petty, and by the time she arrived at the townhouse the irritation she'd carried back from Mississippi had rolled into tired acceptance. The mantra of I am happy for my sister became harder to believe every time it crossed her mind, and the alternative made Luxi feel like the worst sort of bitch. For the part of her psyche detached from her own well-being, it was the truth. She did wish her sister joy, happiness, and whatever other sentiments Hallmark enjoyed shoving down consumers' throats. The rest of her mind, however, remained undecided. It was one thing to want something in theory; to have it fulfilled was a double-edged sword. Ava gaining confidence, a boyfriend, and her freedom was all well and good, but it left Luxi without her number one gal pal. And after a couple of thousand years relying on her sister's shoulder, adjusting to the pit without her would take more than a few weeks and a shitty assignment. Talk of change couldn't compare with the actual act. Whatever Luxi needed she'd need to get on her own. Ava was embarking on a new, exciting part of her life, and interfering for selfish reasons didn't paint Luxi in the best color. Besides, it wasn't as though Ava had left for good or anything. Things could have gone fuckload worse in Natchez; 69
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hell, Luxi had been certain Lucifer meant to destroy her favorite sister when she and the Sins gathered at Whytecliff. Everything had been in the air then; it wasn't now. The aftermath was always harder than the war—at least where it counted. Perhaps she should try to reconnect with Invi after all. They were the only two female Sins left representing the group. And Luxi loved Invi—she did—she just found it difficult to be around her for more than ten minutes at a time. There was a chance, though, that would change in time if Luxi put forth the effort. Invi had a definite Jan Brady complex, and she wasn't even the middle child. Either way, Luxi had resolved that tomorrow she would go to the Bailey campaign with a clear objective: do the job. Whatever it was Lucifer expected of her would either make itself obvious or pass, and the sooner she finished the assignment the better. Fun as it'd been for about an hour, rebelling at every turn hadn't done much to improve her situation. No, from now on she'd answer phones, type memos, get in front of cameras, and kiss babies—whatever it took to expedite the way to the finish line. Things would feel normal again soon. She just had to see it through. Luxi chose a frayed brown skirt the next day, complete with a soft pink tank top and a brown shrug that hugged her breasts. She wore her hair down and applied her makeup conservatively, choosing little more than powder, a hint of eye shadow and a soft lipstick that matched the splash of color on her outfit. Since her skirt extended past her knees, 70
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she'd evade criticism from John and, with any luck, survive the day unnoticed. Avoiding attention was foreign territory. She hoped she could go eight hours without combusting. The morning went smoothly. She strolled in with a quick nod to Nina, who blinked in surprise but managed an authentic smile in turn. John eyeballed her suspiciously before coughing something and returning to whatever he'd been doing. Grayson was out of the building until ten or so, meeting local business owners to address whatever concerns they presented regarding his plans for Missouri. It wasn't until lunchtime that anyone in the office spoke more than three syllables to Luxi about anything. "We're sending a volunteer on a lunch run." Luxi glanced from her computer screen to Nina's expectant face. "You taggin' me?" she asked. "No. John's nephew is looking for some bonus points on his transcript, so he's pretty much the errand bitch." Nina waved a twenty in Luxi's face. "What I wanted to do was get you a sandwich. What do you want from Sub-O-Rama?" She stared for a second. "You wanna get me lunch?" "Yes." "Why?" Nina shrugged. "Yesterday wasn't exactly the best display of my idea of a welcoming committee, and I contributed to that. I think you're nice—" "Nice?" "Yes." 71
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Luxi had been called many things over the years, and nice had not made the list. Still, she couldn't help but feel flattered and somewhat uncomfortable. Her line of work didn't allow for favors or random displays of generosity. "Well, okay," she replied at last, a numb sensation sweeping through her body. "Thanks." Nina grinned. "What would you like?" "I don't know. You said they have sandwiches?" "You go to school here and you've never been to Sub-ORama?" Another foreign sensation swept her insides. She felt wiggly and sheepish, and she didn't like it. "I ... ahhh, no. What's good there?" "Just about everything. I'm getting soup today, in a breadbowl." Luxi nodded, exhaling. "All right. I'll take that. The soup thing." The other woman's smile went supernova. "Great! Oh, this'll be fun. John wouldn't let me hear the end of it when I was the Sub-O-Rama virgin, and I at least had the excuse of not being from around these parts." "I'm not from around these parts, either." "Yeah, but you go to school here. Apparently there's some code among Springfield natives that gets thrown out of whack if their hometown hangouts aren't properly acknowledged." "Ah. One of those places." "Yeah," Nina continued, nodding. "The rally is next week, which includes a heavy endorsement and speech from Senator Clark, and that basically means John's about to lose 72
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his mind and the rest of us are just trying to survive. Sub-ORama and Andy's have pretty much been the source of our morale." "Andy's what?" "Oh god. Tell me you've at least been to Andy's." "I would." Luxi shrugged. "But my daddy told me to tell no lies." Nina's hand flew over her mouth. "Oh god," she muttered, then turned and shouted to the room, "Andy's run this afternoon!" The call was met with cheers. Apparently, an Andy's run was a good thing. "Two words," Nina said when she looked again to Luxi. "Frozen. Custard." Luxi grinned, and the funny tingly-sensation spread through her belly. She resisted the urge to rub it away, chalking it up to having never mingled among the humans enough to actually strike up non-sexual relationships. Not that Nina didn't hold appeal in that regard, but when left to her own devices, Luxi almost always selected men for bedmates. It was just the way Lucifer had created her. Granted, she had an appropriate appreciation of both genders, as there was no such thing as ordinary when it came to lust or her assignments. Luxi had no way of knowing whether Lucifer had even intended his Sins to want for themselves, or if their individual tastes and preferences were a result of two thousand years of personal evolution. In the end, it didn't really matter. Lucifer didn't prevent any of his subjects from exploring the material world at their leisure, 73
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and despite one or two fun romps with human females, Luxi found she preferred the penis. With the promise of frozen treats in the air, the office seemed to perk up a bit. John growled less and even complimented Luxi's penmanship when she delivered him a phone message. Grayson made it back around lunchtime and managed to catch the wrapped sandwich someone threw at his head. Before disappearing into his glass cubicle, he scoured the desks and stopped when he spied Luxi, and the bright smile with which he favored her could have outshone the sun. Had the man gotten prettier overnight? Was that possible? He looked deliciously rumpled but pristine and orderly at the same time. "Here," Nina said, plopping a brown sack onto Luxi's desk. "Mind if I join you?" "Hey, you bought." The blonde dragged up a seat. "Feel free to tell me to shove it if I crowd you," she said. "I just don't get a lot of time to socialize. Once John's on the warpath, none of us eat, drink or breathe anything but poll numbers until election day." She fished a plastic to-go box from the bag and set it under Luxi's nose. "I don't know many people around here, either. So hello! I'm your new best friend." Luxi shrugged. "I was in the market for one, anyhow." "Oh?" "Family stuff." Nina looked at her expectantly. Luxi expelled a deep breath and continued, "My sister just ran off 74
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with a guy. She was pretty much my BFF, but now I'm flyin' solo." "Oh, that's too bad." A flash of guilt coursed through her system. "Oh, fuck, no," Luxi said quickly. "Dante's a cutie, and he's nuts for Ava. It's not a bad thing. Just something I gotta get used to." She shifted uncomfortably. Talking about herself was not her forte, especially among people she couldn't be herself around. She'd better steer the conversation toward Nina and pronto. "So you and John bump uglies?" Nina's eyes widened and she froze in mid-chew. "Damn it," Luxi swore. "I'm sorry?" "Forget it. I suck at this." "What?" "This whole bein' around people who aren't my people thing," she said. "Don't get me wrong, you guys are great, but ... fuck, I don't know what he was thinking." Nina swallowed her bite and wiped her mouth. "Professor Pan?" "Yeah." "You're doing fine." "Except I rolled out the skankwear yesterday and made an ass outta myself when you went all sweet on me." Luxi cursed again. "Look, I don't—" "It's okay." "Shit, for you." Nina smiled kindly. "Really, it's okay. You should've seen me through my first campaign. I was a nervous wreck. 75
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Everything that could have possibly gone wrong did, and I was there making color commentary the entire time and sure everyone hated me. Thankfully, I got over it, because I couldn't imagine doing anything but this ... even if state senate is small-time politics compared to DC." Luxi pursed her lips. She wanted to respond, but was apprehensive about how her sentiment would twist itself. Word vomit had never been a problem in the past. She was really off her game—embarrassingly so. It was one thing yesterday when she'd gone in with a mind to ruffle things up; today was completely different. Being the good girl sucked, and shit, she didn't even know if that was her objective. Good girl, bad girl, obedient girl, campaign girl. If she reached the end of the week without coming to an understanding about her newfound role, she would have to schedule a meet with Lucifer and get all the cards on the table. Nina favored her with another one of those understanding smiles. It served as the proverbial punch to the gut. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable," she said, standing. "It takes a few days to get the hang of things around here. Let me know if there's anything I can do for you." Damn, now she'd gone and scared away the only person who'd shown her kindness. Well, except Grayson, but she had the small problem of wanting to throw her panties in his face every time she caught his eye, and that was a big no-no. Luxi cleared her throat, rising to her feet as Nina started back toward her own desk. "Wait." The blonde turned around. "You've been nice to me all day," Luxi said. 76
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Nina frowned. "Is that a problem?" "No, but I was a downright bitch to you yesterday. Why are you being so nice now? You should hate me. I'd hate me if I were you and not me, who you should hate." She paused, scowling. "I swear, in some universe, that sentence made sense." Nina favored her with an appreciative chuckle. "The first day at any job sucks," she explained. "Yours was made exceptionally worse by things you weren't prepared for. And I can tell you feel out of your element." "Oh." "Really, let me know if you need anything." Luxi settled back into her seat, numbness returning with a killer vengeance. She sat still for a quiet moment before glancing to the cooling lunch her new friend had provided. She knew how to deal with assholes. Assholes came with the territory, and there was little she enjoyed more than putting some righteous prick in their place. It'd be so much easier if everyone here was an asshole. Instead she had Nina, the super Barbie with a heart of gold. And Grayson, her very own living blow-up doll. If it weren't for John, she'd swear Lucifer was pulling a practical joke on her. She had to be doing that on purpose. Grayson knew it was insane—hell, he felt certifiable just thinking it. But every time he glanced up, he saw her perfect mouth sucking on a plastic spoon, and his already active imagination went into overdrive. 77
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She had to be doing that on purpose. Whatever was left of her frozen custard had been scraped from the plastic cup more than two minutes earlier. Not that he was watching, or anything. In fact, he knew he hadn't been watching because somehow he'd gotten through the last campaign call of the day, and he remembered using big words like "hereafter" and "therefore." His brain didn't work on a higher level whenever he was distracted, and if Luxi wasn't a distraction he didn't know what was. Grayson sighed, casting Luxi another glance. The Andy's cup was gone now, and she had turned her attention to sifting through the day's mail. If he knew what was good for him, he'd see about having her relocated to a corner where she wasn't in his line of view, or better yet, a different building altogether. This was only her second day and his focus was already off balance. He'd looked John square in the eye last night and promised his interest in the girl only ran so far as her ability to sell the campaign. Whether or not he'd known he was lying was a different story; either way, he knew the truth now. Grayson wanted Luxi. Okay. There was nothing wrong with that. Men wanted women every day. It was a part of life. The way God made him—quite literally. Adam and Eve wouldn't have covered up in the Garden had they not felt a magnetic pull toward one another, and true, while Grayson hadn't felt such a pull since Amily signed the divorce papers, that didn't make it unnatural or something of which to be ashamed. In fact, it was healthy. Good for him, even. Finally, after the emotional devastation 78
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and public humiliation that was his former marriage, Grayson had found a woman he didn't regard as a sister, friend, or soul-crushing she-bitch. Which was surprising, quite frankly, as nothing about Luxi seemed safe. Even today with her demure outfit and innocent expression, she screamed raw, animal sexuality. The sort of girl who lost complete control in bed, if only to hide something that had been broken long ago. Yes, she looked broken, but in a beautiful, albeit tragic way. And Grayson wanted—needed—to know more. More of her and her family, more of the god she didn't like but couldn't help but believe in. More of the reason she'd come here looking for trouble one day and sulked away in a corner the next, determined to go unnoticed. Perhaps he'd take her to dinner tonight. Grayson caught himself before it could blossom into a plan, then shook his head and forced his attention to his desk, chuckling in spite of himself. He could already hear John screaming the latest version of the Riot Act just at the thought, and in fairness, his campaign manager had a decent point. The rally was next week and the election less than a month away, and even if he managed to pull a miracle out of the poll numbers, there would still be plenty of time to address his personal life. A month wasn't forever to wait. Hell, Amily had been out of his life for a couple years now, and he hadn't so much as acquired a girl's number in the interim. If his attraction to Luxi was truly more than campaign stress, there was no harm in waiting. 79
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No harm. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. "Boss?" His head whipped up and his eyes widened. Luxi now stood in his doorway, an envelope in her hand and John at her side. Both looked somber. Grayson hadn't even noticed her leave her desk. If he didn't know better, he'd swear she'd teleported. "Hey," he said, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Something wrong?" John pursed his lips and took a step inside. "You need to see this," he said, waving Luxi forward. Grayson nodded, looking to the envelope. "I'm guessing not a campaign donation." "No," Luxi said. Her skin seemed paler and the bounce he'd witnessed yesterday had vanished. She didn't look upset, just uneasy, as though she'd been asked a question in a foreign language and was expected to answer. She set the envelope on his desk. It was plain enough, bulged in the middle, and his name was sprawled inelegantly across the front. He would have assumed a child had written to the campaign as a social studies assignment were the air not so thick. "What's this?" Grayson asked stupidly. His fingers slid inside the opened sleeve and grazed something sleek and metallic. Ice seared his veins. "This was with it," Luxi said, holding up a note. The eerie calmness of her voice shook him almost more than what fell into his hand. "'Looking forward to the rally, you liberal 80
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faggot. Have about a thousand friends who can't wait to meet you.'" Grayson barely heard her. His focus was on the rifle bullet. The cold killer sitting in his palm. A name was engraved along the side. His name. "Time to start talking security," John said. [Back to Table of Contents]
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Chapter Six The door to Lucifer's private office was manned by Lucian, who likewise served as Lucifer's double whenever his presence was needed at some event the Prince of Lies did not wish to personally attend. Not many subjects were privy to the knowledge that Lucifer even had a private office—the one to which most were granted audience often changed over the generations in appearance to resemble whatever place of authority was most iconic for the time. Presently, the public office was a mockup of a well-known oval in Washington, DC. Luxi usually took time to flirt with Lucian, whose height, lean, muscular build and curly brown hair made her flush whenever he flashed her a grin, but she was in no mood today. She stopped short of his desk and crossed her arms. "I need to see him." Lucian glanced up, his face warming. "Oh, hey, Lux. I thought you were upstairs with some senator or whatever." "Or whatever," she replied shortly. "I need to see him." "The boss?" "No, Elvis. Did I pick the wrong line?" She rolled her eyes. "Yes, the boss. I need in." "You know I can't do that." "No, I know that's a crock of shit and my asking you is just me being polite." Luxi's eyes narrowed and her shoulders tensed. Whether or not she outdid Lucian on the pay scale was a matter of conjecture; while the Sins were indeed Lucifer's favored children and mostly regarded as the heirs of 82
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Hell, Lucian at times displayed powers that had everyone in the pit collecting their jaws off the floor. "Now are you going to open the door or do I have to move you and do it myself?" Lucian leaned back. "He said you'd do this." "Do what?" "Come up here all fired up." "Well, fuck me sideways, Lucian, he is a deity and all." "Tempting," Lucian replied. "But I still can't let you in." Luxi flexed her fists, which crackled with hot red strands of electricity. "All right, option B it is." The door flew open at that, revealing a slightly bemused Lucifer on the other side. He regarded her for a long moment, pursed his lips, and gestured in welcome. "Thank you, Lucian," said the devil. "I can take it from here." "Damn straight you can," Luxi muttered. "Ah ah. None of that." Lucifer's gaze darkened, but only slightly. The jovial spark in his expression took more than just an irate Sin to quell. "Lucian was just doing his job." "Lucian can kiss my ass." "A privilege many would kill for. Inside, Luxuria." Sizzling with anger or not, Luxi knew when to stop pressing her luck. Therefore she managed to abstain from slapping her backside as she passed. She also refrained from slamming the door behind her. Lucifer sat on the edge of his desk, his arms crossed expectantly. "I hear you wish to speak with me?" "You might have been upfront." His brows domed. "About what?" "The bullet came today." 83
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"I assure you, this is news to me." Luxi huffed and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "I just don't get it. I'm not security detail, you know, but hey, an order's an order. It just seems polite to let someone know what the fuck they're doing on assignment." "Are you quite finished?" "What the hell do you want me to do with this? 'Cause if I'm there to make sure that bullet finds its target—" "Quiet." His tone had reverted from good-humored to don't-fuck-with-the-boss. Luxi fell silent. "Now," Lucifer said slowly, holding up a finger. "First, to your accusation that I have placed you in Missouri as some security detail for a local candidate...well, I'd hope you'd have a little more faith in me than that." She pursed her lips. "Secondly." A second finger sprang up. "The bullet you received—" "So you did know about it." "Grown-ups are talking now. Wait your turn." Luxi's gaze hit the floor, properly chastised. "Sorry." "The bullet you received today has nothing to do with your assignment. You are not, as I said, to protect or encourage any assassination attempt placed on Grayson Bailey's life. You're merely there to enact the job I gave you. Thirdly, I do not appreciate being barraged like this. If you have an objection or concern, you are to go through the proper channels of arranging a meeting." Lucifer shrugged. "I'm a very busy fellow, you know." 84
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Proper channels when on assignment meant first contacting Pixley, the curator of the Unholy Damned and Hell's largest library. It was also the location where, among other things, records, receipts and the pit's ever-growing occupancy list were kept. The curator likewise had the unenviable task of arranging meetings between dimensions. Luxi shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Would you believe Pixley was busy?" "Pixley's always busy, yet it seems to not affect her job performance." Lucifer sighed. "Your orders remain the same. Other than this, I trust you have no other matters to bring up?" She wet her lips. "No." "Are you experiencing any difficulty?" "No." Lucifer nodded. "And how do you find Grayson? I've heard he is a decent man." "He's a very good man," she said, then cursed. Those words were foreign on her lips; she hadn't realized she actually held that opinion until it was too late to reconsider. Yet it was the truth, and in the words of Flannery O'Connor, good men were hard to find. She had yet to detect an air of falsehood in Grayson's words or actions. He seemed genuine in each endeavor, including the halfhearted attempts at humor after she and John approached him about the death threat. She'd been terrified Lucifer wanted Grayson dead. While she would follow any order, that would be one she'd regret. If 85
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Grayson died, he'd almost assuredly go up, and she'd never see him again. The thought stung more than it should. "At any rate, I am glad you decided to pop in," Lucifer said. "Saves me a trip." "What?" "I have decided to throw Avaritia and her vampire a reception." "You have?" Lucifer shrugged. "Just my way of telling Dante welcome to the family and no hard feelings for making him think I wanted him dead." "How generous." "I'm a generous guy," the devil agreed. "It's in my nature. Furthermore, he is one of us now." "He is?" "Well, in spirit at least. I have also offered—" "The bounty-hunting gig. Yeah, Ava told me." "You interrupted me again." "What can I say, Boss, you made me this way." He smirked. "Quite. The reception will be in Natchez day after tomorrow, seven o'clock." "Yeah, okay." "It would mean the world to your sister," he noted. "I'll be there." The campaign office typically closed down around five o'clock, leaving her without an excuse to not show up. Not that she would look for one—no matter how strange her world felt at the moment, Luxi knew Ava wanted her there. 86
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"Damn straight you will." Lucifer slipped off his desk. "Now, toddle off. As I said, I'm a very busy devil and you have company." "I what?" He patted her shoulder, which strangely rocked her on her heels and made her head thunder. She barely had time to question what had happened before he hit her again. Her temples pounded and the floor shifted. When his hand came down the third time, the office spiraled and disappeared, and then she was standing in her temporary home in Springfield. And someone was knocking on the door. Luxi frowned and shook her head. "Company," she murmured, marching for the door. "Got it." For whatever reason, even though she knew a grand total of three people in this town, she was still surprised to see Grayson standing on her porch, a sack full of what looked to be Chinese takeout in his hand and a knee-weakening smile on his face. "I tried to call, but you didn't answer." He held up the food. "Hungry?" She stared at him blankly. "Or not." "I...err, sorry. What are you doing here?" "Dinner." "Is this something we set up before I left? 'Cause honestly, I must've been really out of it." Grayson shook his head. "No, I... I just wanted to make sure everything was all right. With what happened today..." Luxi blinked. "I'm not the one who got the death threat." And it wouldn't matter if she did, as bullets in this realm were about as deadly as chocolate sprinkles. 87
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"No, but you were the one who opened the mail." The light in Grayson's eyes dimmed a bit, as though just realizing she might have already eaten or not been in the mood to have visitors. He lowered his hand and exhaled deeply. "I... sorry. I didn't mean to invite myself over. I just thought you might want... I don't know." Luxi wet her lips. "Did John sign your permission slip?" "It's really for the better if he never finds out about this." She grinned and gestured in welcome. "As long as you don't care that I live like a pig, make yourself at home." The thousand-watt smile returned at full force. Damn, but the man was pretty. "I really don't mean to intrude—" "Well, if you're gonna split, at least leave the food with me. Girl's gotta eat." Grayson shrugged and stepped over the threshold. "Hope you like cashew chicken. You're not from around here and not many people get it." "Cashew chicken?" "Have you not had it yet?" "Uhh, yeah. Out west." "Out west, but not here. Springfield-style cashew chicken is something you can't get anywhere else." Seemingly unaware of the mess, Grayson maneuvered over the piles of clothing and trash left by the previous tenant—which Luxi had helpfully strewn across the apartment the night before in a half-hearted attempt to vent her frustration—and managed to locate the kitchen table. "It's about as healthy as lard, but damn if it's not delicious." "Yum." 88
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He glanced up with another grin. "I can tell you're not sold. Let me put it this way: Canton Inn is a sacred institution and the egg rolls are most assuredly crafted by the angels themselves." Luxi snickered. "Or demons," Grayson amended. "Depending on whether or not you're trying to avoid the calories." A few bites later, she had an answer for him. Springfieldstyle cashew chicken was undeniably one of her brother Gula's concoctions. Though gluttony was not limited to food, rather over-indulgence of any kind, Gula loved coming up with new culinary creations. Fried chicken bites smothered in fatty sauce was definitely something her mischievous brother would sic on the Midwest. Still, Luxi couldn't deny it was tasty. Addictively so. They settled on the sofa after finagling some plates. It felt cozy, and she wasn't accustomed to cozy. The warm, homey sensation was one to which a girl could get addicted if she wasn't careful. "So," she said, swallowing a mouthful of chicken, "to what do I really owe the pleasure?" Grayson looked at her askance, a freckle of rice sticking to his lower lip. She had the annoying urge to lick it off. "What do you mean?" "You're here when you should be somewhere else." "Where else?" She shrugged. "I dunno. You got a girl somewhere, right? Cute young thing like you has to have some sugar on the side." 89
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Grayson's cheeks dimpled under his grin. "I'm cute?" "Oh, fuck me sideways." "Better not say things like that around mixed company. You're lucky I'm a gentleman." Luxi smirked. "Dunno. I like a man who knows how to ride." That got a blush out of him, and she enjoyed watching him wiggle uncomfortably for a few seconds before cutting him a break. "Seriously. Why aren't you snuggled up with your honey somewhere?" "If I had one, I wouldn't be here." That didn't come as a surprise, which honestly should have bothered her. Luxi had been around long enough to know most men had the same sense of fidelity; that being love and sex were mutually exclusive, and sometimes the missus didn't enjoy being fucked the way her husband really wanted to fuck her. More than that, Big J had created humans with a need to populate Earth with as many pint-sized versions of themselves as possible. Sex was made for reproducing, and multiple partners meant more potential for children. Evolutionary scientists had the bulk of their study down pat; it was just the exclusion of the cosmic designer that kept their work from being completely accurate. Love to the exclusion of one person was, relatively speaking, a modern convention. Luxi had witnessed, encouraged and participated in enough group-love scenes to know ... but there was something welcoming about the idea of soul mates. A perfect one to complement the self. It was a bunch of horseshit, but a girl could fantasize. 90
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Especially when her station in Hell revolved around receiving and instigating the mechanics of sex without exploring the emotional plateaus she'd heard could be reached. Still, knowing as little as she did about Grayson Bailey, his warmth and sincerity had her taking him at face value. She'd never trusted anyone's word just because they seemed like a standup citizen, and whatever had her singing a different tune now was dangerous—especially given the way she burned whenever their eyes met. While he might embody the physical requirements of her ideal man, he was snowwhite on the purity level whereas she couldn't go two seconds without an adulterated thought or urge. It had never bothered her before. After all, she was a Sin. Being dirty was a part of the gig. "I came by to make sure you're all right," Grayson said at last. "With what happened today." "The bullet? You mentioned that already. I'll say it again; it was your name on the envelope, not mine." "Yeah, but I'm a politician." Luxi's eyes narrowed. "And impervious to death threats?" "I knew what I was signing up for." "Somehow I doubt this was in the brochure." Grayson shrugged. "My fault for not reading the fine print." She huffed and settled further into the cushions. "How the hell did you end up doing this, anyway?" "Eating? I've been doing it all my life." "Jackass." Grayson chuckled and stabbed a piece of chicken. "It's John's fault. He's been saying for years I ought to run for 91
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office, and I had no idea how to proceed. I didn't even know if I wanted to. But this community is so divided, and those who don't fit in with Springfield's definition of tradition feel like they don't have a voice. I've lost count of how many people have approached me after a sermon to thank me for offering a place of worship where they didn't have to feel ostracized or were being told who they are or who they love is sinful." Luxi pursed her lips and nodded. He continued, "The turning point was Ralph Truman. Eighty-eight-year-old man who lost his partner, Frank, to cancer in '09. They'd been together for sixty some-odd years when Frank passed. Once his church found out, Ralph was asked by the deacons to not return." "The church didn't know?" He shook his head. "Frank was an atheist, and Ralph was a very private man who came to church on Sundays, morning and evening, and even for Wednesday night services when he could manage. He donated to the collection basket and sponsored the youth ministry on their mission trips. The obituary ran and named him as Frank's partner. To make a long story short, Ralph answered honestly when asked about his relationship and started coming to Brentwood after they gave him the boot. I didn't notice him until after one of my more ... let's just say, polarizing sermons. He came up to me, tears running down his face, took my hand and thanked me." Grayson exhaled, his gaze growing distant. "He'd never felt welcome anywhere. He was a man of God whose only crime was loving someone. They were together over half a century. Over half a century. I can't..." He broke off and sighed again. "Ralph passed last year, but he... Yeah, for men like him, I 92
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wanted to run. Make sure people knew not all of us who read our Bibles think that you have to talk, dress, act and think a certain way before you're considered one of Jesus' children." Luxi didn't say anything. She didn't really know what to say. Talking theology with someone who didn't know who she was or from where she came was, like so many other things of late, unfamiliar territory. As it was, the human men of her past weren't the sort who craved philosophical conversations. However, the fire in Grayson's eyes was something no one could forge. The conviction, the certainty, the drive to do what he felt was right—something in her chest twisted, and the air around her head became light. "What about you?" Grayson asked. "What?" "What drew you to politics?" She laughed. "Nothing. I don't know why I'm here." It was the only thing she'd said since arriving here that was completely honest. Instead of fighting her, he shrugged and said, "Must've been my unreasonably good looks." "Must have been." "You've never come to see me preach?" "I don't go to church." Not unless she was forced. "But you've already said you're not an atheist." "No. I just don't like the guy I believe in." Luxi didn't elaborate and he didn't press the issue. It was for the best; she didn't know if she'd be able to keep her opinions to herself. Big J was many things to many people, and while she'd never met the man, she knew enough from 93
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Lucifer to know they wouldn't get along. The guy was supposed to be infinitely compassionate, but when approached by his closest friend about allowing leniency on the older souls in Hell, he'd promptly refused. Some righteous compassion. No, the wrathful, angry, proud Lord who killed the Egyptians' first born and commanded Abraham to sacrifice his son was the reputation she knew, even if it was before her time. Whether or not the birth of his own child had softened him up was a matter of debate. All she knew was Lucifer had once been very close with him, but that time was over. And anyone who couldn't get along with Lucifer, even when he had his head up his ass, wasn't worth the effort in Luxi's book. "Hey ... you all right?" She glanced up. "What?" "You kinda spaced out just then." "Oh." She attempted a faint smile, but her heart wasn't in it. "Yeah, sorry." "No, don't apologize. I just..." Grayson paused and looked down. "I don't even know what I'm doing here." "Bringing me food?" "There's just something about you." "There's nothing about me." "No, there really is. You're very special, Luxi." Her throat tightened. "Grayson—" "And I know I'm not the first guy to say it, and I promise it's not a line or anything. I didn't come over here to be the sleazy politician—hell, I don't even know what prompted me 94
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to do this at all." He sighed again. "I haven't talked to anyone in a long time." "You talk to people every day." "Not like this. There's a difference between this and arranging a press conference. God, you just impress the shit out of me." She had the outrageous urge to laugh. "Grayson, you've known me for two days, one of which was spent defending my wardrobe and the other you received a death threat." "Yeah, and look how you handled both situations." "I tore John a new one." "He needs that to happen more often." Luxi shrugged. "Okay, that's fair." "And then today, you didn't scream. You didn't make a scene. You did exactly what you should have done." "Bullets aren't scary. It's the motherfucker holding the gun who's scary." "You impress the shit out of me," Grayson said again. "I don't know what to say beyond that." Something changed then—as though a switch in her head flipped and activated a sense of self she hadn't known existed. Not once had thoughts of obligation faded, had her job become secondary; not once had the bells and whistles of her inner nature been overpowered by white noise. Luxi moved without thinking, her fingers tingling with the need to feel his skin. The remainder of her cashew chicken spilled onto her lap as she climbed onto his, but she didn't care. She just needed. 95
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In two thousand years, no one had ever looked at her the way Grayson did. No one had ever looked at her for anything but her breasts or what she did once she had a man on his back. No one had ever listened to her—ever questioned her words beyond the script she was issued or asked about her welfare with genuine concern. No one had bought her dinner without the expectation of getting their dick sucked at the end of the night. And though she knew she shouldn't, Luxi trusted Grayson when he said he'd come here just to make sure she was all right—that the day's events hadn't spooked her. In her world, everything was physical. Love was reserved for her siblings, affection for her friends and boss, and nothing in touch had any higher meaning. Until now. Until realizing just feeling him against her had skin buzzing and her hands trembling. Holy shit. Luxi had only been scared—truly scared—once, and that had occurred just weeks before when she thought she might lose Ava forever. Now, finding herself astride Grayson, and his wide brown eyes threatening to swallow her whole, she couldn't keep her body from shaking. "Luxi..." Words would ruin it, and she wasn't ready for the spell to break. Determined to beat the silence, Luxi closed the space between them and her mouth found his. At first he fell still beneath her, stoic and unresponsive even as she nipped and nibbled, tracing his lower lip with her tongue and imploring him entrance. Then, slowly, he sighed and opened to her, 96
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returning her soft strokes with light, feathery touches. Luxi's hands found his shoulders, gripping him tightly, and then she lost all sense of self. Kisses of the past had been nothing like this—all sex and promise, grinding against cocks as a prelude to the good stuff. Never before had a kiss itself been the good stuff, and though she couldn't keep herself from writhing against his growing erection, there was no want of anything else. She needed it real, and Grayson tasted as real as they came. "We're making a mess," he whispered when their lips parted. He was right. What remained of their takeout had mashed between them, but fuck, she didn't care. She just needed him. "Kissing stopped," she replied breathlessly. Grayson pulled her down again, his mouth more aggressive now. Yet even still he didn't demand, rather guided. He didn't take, but encouraged. His hands had found her cheeks, thumbs stroking soft circles into her skin. Whether or not he realized he was thrusting his cock against her center was beyond her, but she didn't care. Rather, she took him by the wrists and placed his hands on her breasts, grinning as he sighed into her. Careful—he was so careful. So mindful not to push or offend. So careful... Yearning unlike anything she'd felt swept through her veins, heat pooling between her legs. In easy seconds, she could be impaled on his cock, squeezing him cross-eyed as she rode him to oblivion. She needed his hands on her bare skin, fingers exploring her pussy and strumming her clit. She 97
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needed his mouth on her breasts, his cock pushing inside her body. She needed him, and Luxi never needed anything. "Luxi," Grayson murmured, fingers tunneling through her hair. "God..." The haze cleared and the clouds parted. At once, everything came rushing back. Pressure rose in her chest and fell again. Oh shit. Oh motherfucking shit. This wasn't right. Nothing about this was right. Luxi tore her lips from his, blinking rapidly. "Oh god!" "Oh god? That didn't sound like a good oh god." "Shit." "What's wrong?" Grayson frowned. His hair was ruffled, his eyes burning, his lips swollen, and his erection pulsing beneath her. Every cell in her body protested, but somehow Luxi managed to disentangle herself from his embrace, ignoring the heat between her legs and the ache in her groin. God, she'd lost herself and lost herself but good. "I... You need to leave." "What?" Her jaw hardened. "We can't do this." He looked at her for a long moment before breaking away, nodding. "Yeah. I'm sorry. You're just so ... something, and I got carried away. I thought—" "No, don't be. That was me. All me." Luxi balled her hands into fists. "This is a bad idea." Grayson laughed in protest. "I know that. Most bad ideas feel amazing." "Not that amazing." "Well, thank you." 98
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"This isn't—look, you better get outta here." The frown returned. "Luxi, I didn't mean to—" "I'm not good enough." That statement earned a blank stare. She didn't blame him. She hadn't known the thought existed until it rolled off her tongue, though she should have. She should have questioned Grayson's attraction to her for its authenticity. After all, generating lust in humans was a part of the gig, the reason she existed. There was a very good chance Grayson found himself entranced for no reason other than it was the way Lucifer had fashioned her. Men experienced lust on a day-to-day basis, and though her curves were designed to appeal to human sexuality, the fact that he wanted her might well be due to the fact that she couldn't switch herself off. It made sense, actually. She was the opposite of Grayson's type, and though most people would appreciate her aesthetically, she wasn't naive enough to think his interest went further than her appearance. He might think it did under the influence of her inherent glamour, but the truth wasn't as flattering. Sugar and spice and everything nice—that was the sort of girl he belonged with. Not a creature born in Hell. Not someone as damaged as her. "Where in the world did that come from?" he demanded at last. "It's true." "No, it's not. I can understand if I pushed you too far or if this is too fast, but don't you dare say you're not good enough." Luxi's eyebrows perked. "Don't I dare?" 99
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"Yes, don't you dare." "Grayson, you know shit about me." "That's not true." He held up a hand and began counting off. "You're courageous. You're witty—" "You're basing that off two fucking days?" "And you like interrupting people." Luxi had to laugh at that. It was the second time she'd heard it tonight. "Look, I like you." "Good." He all but spat the word. "I like you, too. A lot. And we're both adults, here. I'm divorced and unless you tell me otherwise, I'll presume you're unattached." There was a thick pause. "I won't ask anything from you but the truth. Tell me you have a boyfriend or some guy back home. Tell me to get the hell outta here or slap me for doing something inappropriate, but this not good enough thing is horseshit." "Fine." She heaved in a breath. "I need you to leave." "Luxi—" "You wanted the truth and there it is. I'm sorry. You're the first decent guy I've met and I can't fuck this up. Sorry ... sorry for that, sorry for pouncing you, and sorry for the blue balls, but I can't have you here." Can't tempt myself. She marched to the door and threw it open. "Please." If Grayson had a retort he kept it to himself, though it didn't make the air any less uncomfortable. Yet he maintained his dignity, even with desire in his eyes, an obvious erection in his pants, and smeared cashew chicken on his shirt. "Good night, Luxi," he said, and walked out without another word. [Back to Table of Contents] 100
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Chapter Seven Grayson had waged a private war with himself ever since Luxi strode into the office that morning. She hadn't so much as tossed him a curious glance, and though he knew he should be grateful she had stopped him last night before things grew out of hand, he couldn't silence the angry devil in his chest demanding he discover how the honey between her thighs tasted. She was the wrong sort of woman at the wrong time, and damn it, he was beyond helping himself. Something told him John knew his mind wasn't in the room. His friend had been raging for the last God-knows-howlong about something-or-other, and though Grayson knew it was in his best interest to listen, he couldn't tear his focus away from the lack of attention Luxi was paying him. The part of his brain dedicated to reason and accountability understood he should live and let live, but last night had been the best and worst of his life in quite some time, and that was saying something. He didn't remember feeling desperate when Amily touched him—he didn't remember the fire or the heat, or the aching desperation when her lips pulled away from his. "And then Santa Claus ran away with my pet goat, Moonpie." "That's nice," Grayson said, flexing his hand into a fist. "You're not paying attention, are you?" He glanced up. "What makes you say that?" "The fact that you're not paying attention." John cursed and ran a hand through his hair. "Could you do me a favor, 101
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please, and get your head out of your ass? I just spent three hours on the phone last night convincing Clark not to pull out, and—" "Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Clark's thinking of pulling out?" Senator Richard Clark was the star speaker of the rally; his endorsement served as a sign to voters that Grayson was a serious candidate. Furthermore, given Clark's popularity in this region, despite his politics, it would almost assuredly give Grayson a much-needed boost in the polls. "This because of the death threat?" John didn't look impressed. "Wow, Grayson, welcome to the conversation. I've only been on about this for the past twenty minutes. Where have you been?" "I did something stupid last night." "You're doing something stupid right now." "You said you convinced him not to pull out?" "Yeah, because of your dedication, sincerity, and how you're handling the threat like a professional." John crossed his arms. "You are taking this seriously, aren't you?" "Yes." "'Cause I'd hate to have just spent taxpayer money getting elimination prints from everyone in the office if you weren't serious." "It's my life, John. I think I'm serious." "You think? True or false: you are aware someone has literally said he has a bullet with your name on it?" "I was here for that." Grayson crumbled and threw a desperate glance in Luxi's direction. She was absorbed in totaling the deposits from campaign donations and seemingly 102
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unaware he existed, much less that her presence had compromised his focus. "I also have faith in the fact that because of said death threat, I'm going to be standing on a podium surrounded by men with guns. If someone fires—" "The thing is we don't want it to get to that point." "The senator shouldn't have anything to worry about. It's me they want dead." "Yeah, because a US senator is small potatoes compared to a local candidate." Grayson snickered. "Now you're saying I'm not important enough to assassinate. Make up your mind." "I don't wanna find out," John retorted. "That's the point. So, at the rally you're gonna be shadowed by a big guy with a gun." "Who?" "I don't care who, but he's gonna be built like a linebacker. I called in a few Washington favors and they're sending someone who was in Clinton's secret service." "Secret service?" "Was, as in not now. You're not that important." John crossed his arms. "So what'd you do that was stupid?" Grayson hesitated. Confessing his crime to his campaign manager would make everything real—the whole damn night. Going to see Luxi with some flimsy excuse he'd pieced together on the way to her front porch. Unloading his ideology on her over fried rice and egg rolls. Thrusting his cock against her clad pussy as she gyrated against him, sucking on her tongue and palming her breasts ... and the inevitable fall of her sudden dismissal. 103
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"Oh god," John muttered, horrified. He glanced up. "What?" "Tell me you didn't." Grayson gestured emphatically. "What?" "Shit, you did." "Did what?" "You and Ms. Daimon out there did the horizontal mambo." "The horizontal mambo?" John nodded. "You did. Goddamn it, Grayson, how stupid are you?" "I graduated at the top of my class." "You wouldn't know it." He frowned. "We didn't have sex, so you can stop being a dick." "In a Clinton way or in an actual way?" "What?" "In what way did you not have sex?" "In an actual way." Grayson exhaled deeply, leaning back in his seat. "I went to her place last night." "This is not helping me believe you." "I wanted to make sure she was all right." "All right?" "She found a bullet in the mail on her second day, after you were an irredeemable ass to her on her first day. I'm the guy she's here to help, and I wanted to make sure she was all right." He hoped the words sounded half as good in actuality as they did in his head; at the moment, Grayson was winging it. "I got some takeout and showed up on her doorstep." "And that's all?" 104
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"No." John groaned. "Of course not." "She kissed me." "She kissed you." "Yes." "And you promptly told her she's an intern and you're not one of those politicians." Grayson nodded. "Yes, yes. Of course I did that. Except, no. I kissed her back." "God, I hate you so much right now." "To be fair, I know that." "Do you have any idea—no, of course you don't." John shook his head. "Jesus, Grayson, she might've been planted here." "Planted?" "Yeah. Walter Church is not above sending in prostitutes to tempt the candidate." "Let me take this moment to remind you that I'm running for state senate, not president, and this isn't Washington. She's not a plant and she's not a hooker; she's a girl who was sent here by her professor to do a job." "You're not the job." "She stopped it," Grayson said. "She also started it." "Yes, but she stopped it, said it was a bad idea, and asked me to leave." John looked slightly placated. "Well, there's that, at least." "Thank you." "For her, not you. You're not off the hook." 105
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"Of course not." "What on earth were you thinking?" Grayson sighed heavily. There was no clear way to answer the question when he didn't know, himself. Everything had seemed perfectly logical up until tasting her lips. At the very least, he could rationalize his intentions and worry later as to whether or not they conflicted with reality. Somehow he didn't think John would respond well if he explained that a girl he'd known for barely two days strangely made him feel more alive than he had in the years he'd spent playing the dutiful husband to Amily. How he saw in Luxi so much of himself, it made him question everything about the man he was and the man he wanted to be. She kept a mask in place, hiding pain and distrust behind apathy and a sassy mouth. Yet anyone bothering to look beyond the surface would find an open wound—something she'd broken or lost long ago and never bothered to fix. She was lonely and isolated, lacking faith though swimming in it all at once. He wanted to help her find herself—show her there was more to her than even she gave credit. Last night she'd told him she wasn't good enough, that on some cosmic scale she couldn't meet his standards. Grayson didn't know what she'd done to him, but it was something. Something powerful—something for which he hadn't searched and most certainly hadn't anticipated. It was insane to assert so much could change in a couple days, especially with the limited interactions they'd had, but he was good at reading people. And something about Luxi Daimon kept calling him home. 106
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The last time he'd felt a stirring like this in his chest, he'd become a minister. Thus far, his intuition hadn't steered him wrong. A subtle knock snapped him back to the present. Luxi stood in the doorway. "Hey," she said awkwardly. For his part, John seemingly located his ill-gotten tact and refrained from saying anything offensive. Instead, he cleared his throat. "We have a conference call with the senator in an hour." "I know," Grayson said. "Rally schedule and the like." "Right." Luxi held up a hand. "Don't bust up the party on my account. I was just gonna say I won't be in tomorrow." Grayson's eyes narrowed. "You won't?" "It's last minute," she continued, nodding. "My sister, umm, eloped, and now there's a reception and stuff. I gotta motor to Mississippi. I would've mentioned yesterday as soon as I knew, but with the death threat and all—" "Understandable," John said, his tone much too levelheaded. "Why don't you just call it a week and come back Monday?" "What?" Grayson demanded. "Well, it makes sense." John turned to him. "Trip to Mississippi? You'd have both jet and hick lag ... and that's coming from a guy who grew up in Missouri. No reason for her to come in all tired and stuff." Luxi smiled, though the look on her face spoke more for general amusement than agreement. "Yeah. The trip can be rough." 107
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"It's a wedding reception?" Grayson asked. "I guess. Lu-Luc wasn't too specific, just said to be there or Ava would take it personally." "I'm guessing that's the sister," said John. "Right," she agreed. "I'll go with you." Luxi's eyes went wide and John's jaw fell slack. They both stared at him for an uncomfortable amount of time. "What?" Luxi finally asked. John was less subtle. "Go? Are you outta your fucking mind?" Grayson's cheeks burned and he directed his gaze downward. Honestly, he hadn't planned on saying anything— the words escaped before he had a chance to approve their intent. Even so, though, the longer the idea lived the more he liked it. Get out of town, forget the campaign for a day or two, visit somewhere new... Get Luxi to himself. He wasn't a complete idiot, even if recent events indicated otherwise. He understood his thoughts and actions were insane. Ever since Luxi had sashayed through the door, he had lost whatever grasp on logic he'd once possessed. Now here he was, day three into their newfound acquaintance and doing something highly irrational just for the sake of want. Never before had he acted on impulse rather than order and discipline, and once—just once—he wanted to taste a sample of living a little more loosely.
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Granted, this close to the rally—not to mention election— was likely the wrong time to develop a need for spontaneity and adventure. Damn it, though, he didn't care. His head wasn't doing the thinking. "I'll go," Grayson repeated, his tone level as though he'd made the world's soundest argument. "With what happened yesterday and all, it might be good for me to head out of town for the weekend." "This is serious," John said. "You're serious." "You're serious?" Luxi echoed. "Yes, I'm serious. I'll go. It'll be refreshing." John whimpered. "There is a chance, however small, that I'm dreaming. Please let me be dreaming." Grayson ignored him. "I presume you're flying," he said to Luxi. "What flight?" "Uhhh..." "You don't mind, do you?" For whatever reason, the notion she might object to his brazenly inviting himself along hadn't occurred to him until now. At least he had the decency to feel self-conscious. "I really could use a few days away from the office. Just to clear my head." "Seems redundant," John said. "Your head has nothing left in it." Luxi inclined her head. "I guess it's okay." She frowned and worried a lip between her teeth. "No one likes going to these shindigs solo, anyway, right?" Grayson shot her a bright smile, tension rolling off his shoulders. At least she hadn't verbally undressed him, as was her every right. "That's what I thought." 109
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"I think you're both nuts," John complained. "Have you booked a flight yet?" The twinkle in Luxi's eyes dimmed just a bit. "A flight? Ahh, no. I—uhh—wasn't sure you'd let me go. Three days in, already taking time off." John smacked his hands together. "That's right! Day three and already asking for time off? What do you think this is? A summer job at McDonalds?" "You were the one encouraging her to take Friday off as well," Grayson observed. "Yeah, well, that was before you were going." "Obviously." He turned back to Luxi and fished his wallet out of his back jeans pocket. "Just use Expedia or Travelocity or something. Where in Mississippi is this?" "Natchez." "Never heard of it." Luxi shrugged a shoulder. "I never had, either." He handed her his Visa and smiled. "Try to get us a direct flight, and if not, through Jackson. We'll get a rental car if need be. Nina should have all my important info—social, mother's maiden and stuff—if you need it." "You're paying?" "Of course." "Of course," John muttered. "Tell me, Grayson, did you ever want to win, or was this whole campaign just a wellfunded practical joke?" "I'll have my cell phone with me at all times," he retorted. "I don't think popping out of town for a couple days will hurt anything." 110
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"Of course you don't. You're just paying with your credit card." "Personal, not campaign." "Last I checked," Luxi volunteered, "he ain't got no ring on his finger. Stop acting like he's committing a crime." "It isn't about what's right or wrong, it's about what's perceived as right or wrong." John glared at her. "How old are you, anyway? Twelve? Thirteen?" Something dangerous flickered behind her eyes. "Two thousand, give or take." "Great, now we got a comedian." "John, you need to back down, cool off, and get some sleep." Grayson nodded at Luxi. "You'll see it's possible for me to leave for forty-eight hours or so and the world won't end." Luxi laughed. "Well, you never know..." "Don't encourage him." She tapped the credit card against her palm and favored him with a smirk. "Kinda hard to resist." The words seemed loaded, but he didn't know why. And for the moment he didn't care. Something about this—her, everything—felt right. Completely right. Questioning it seemed a fool's errand. Instead, he would enjoy the ride ... even if he had no idea where they were headed. [Back to Table of Contents]
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Chapter Eight Luxi had never been on a plane before, therefore the entire prospect of going through security was a little daunting—even for a creature of Hell. Really, agreeing to let Grayson tag along to Ava's reception had seemed like a good idea at the time. Aside from the confusion their make-out fest had created and the knowledge she shouldn't get closer than she already was, Luxi couldn't wrap her mind around the idea of attending the party stag. Lust didn't go to couples events alone, and since she wasn't in the position to troll for dates, going with what was available seemed best. Of course, if she were honest with herself, she couldn't deny the idea of getting some quality alone time with Grayson gave her the good kind of chills. And that was dangerous. Very dangerous. Not only was she not to coerce him into bed, but soft, fluffy feelings about anyone was bad business. As in lucky-if-Lucifer-doesn't-make-your-head-explode bad. But fuck all, she couldn't help herself. The walls she'd carefully constructed were chipping away, leaving her open and vulnerable. Luxi had been around the block enough times to know getting emotionally involved was psychological suicide. She'd destroyed too many marriages and witnessed too many falsehoods to believe anything else. Women who drowned themselves in pills after discovering their husband had an affair with a skinny thing who had just become of legal age. Men who put the business end of a handgun in their 112
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mouth upon learning their wives had something on the side. Those who weren't selfish enough to take their own lives often became shells of their former selves; others were left with deep, hidden scars that often impeded them, if not hindered, from finding love again. Then there was Ava. Ava had risked more than her heart to love her righteous angel. That she'd turned around and fallen into Dante's arms shortly after the fact had been in part due to luck but mostly because Dante and Ava were fucking soul mates ... to the point where watching them together came with a possible side-effect of nausea. Sebastian was just a casualty of Ava's blindness; once he warmed her up, Dante had swooped in for the kill. The odds of any of the Sins striking it rich in the love department were unlikely—especially on the heels of Ava's happiness. If it had taken two thousand years for one of them to dissent, the next opening would be well after Grayson was in a pearly-gated community. Then again, he might not actually be as good as he seemed. She'd only known him a couple days. But damn it, was wanting something so bad? "You need to take them off." Luxi snapped out of her reverie fast. Now was not the time to daydream. "What?" "Your shoes," Grayson whispered, nodding to the security line. "My shoes?" He chuckled and pressed his hand to her back. "How long has it been since you've flown?" "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." 113
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"They implemented several new security features after 9/11. This is one of them." "Oh." She kicked off her shoes. "Yeah, I haven't flown since then." "Don't tell me the fearless Luxi Daimon is scared of flying?" She laughed, mimicking his actions and placing her shoes in a proffered tub. "Not hardly. Just haven't had a need to do it." "Even with a family that lives down South?" "Don't people drive anywhere anymore?" "Only if they're afraid of flying." Grayson shot her a pantyruining grin and stepped through the metal detector. Luxi's chest tightened and pleasant little tingles shot across her skin—a sensation she hadn't experienced since she reached maturity. Oh, hot damn. She was in more trouble than she thought. Not afraid of flying, my ass. Grayson had to swallow a giggle at Luxi's yelp when the plane came in for a less-than-smooth landing in Jackson, Mississippi. She'd held her breath during turbulence, jumped in her seat when the captain switched on the seatbelt sign, and when he got up to visit the restroom, she'd looked at him as though he was abandoning her. It was so damn cute, and cute wasn't a word Grayson invoked often. "I don't understand why humans do that to themselves," Luxi muttered fiercely as they strode toward the rental car agency. 114
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Her wording was a tad awkward, but he understood her meaning. Still, Grayson couldn't help himself. "So ... you weren't afraid?" "Of course I wasn't afraid." She spoke as though the alternative were not only false, but impossible. Her eyes flared and her chin rose with a hint of a haughty huff. Even that look was too cute to take seriously. "Of course you weren't." "You don't believe me, do you?" Grayson opted not to respond. Instead, he nodded to the rental stand. "These things always make me think of that scene in Planes, Trains, and Automobiles." She snickered. "You're really bad at changing the subject." "I'm new at this whole being a politician thing." "Yeah, well, that's a skill you're gonna wanna pick up real quick-like." A half hour later, they were on the road. Luxi had offered to drive, but Grayson didn't feel like placing his life in the hands of someone still jittery from the flight. They made boring small talk once the fraidy-cat jokes became old, though the longer he attempted to come up with a topic, the more drawn he was to what had transpired in her townhome night before last—even knowing that was dangerous territory. Luxi clearly didn't want to revisit the subject and he didn't want to come across as a horndog candidate who couldn't keep his mind off sex. Even so, the brief moments in which she'd been in his arms, drawing hot kisses off his lips and allowing him to explore her soft curves had given him a 115
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glimpse into something he hadn't wanted, hadn't felt, in a very long time. "So," he heard himself asking. "Tell me about this sister." She looked at him sharply, coming out of herself. "Which sister?" "The sister who got hitched." "Oh, right. Umm, well... Ava's... She and I have always been really tight." "Yeah?" "I'm happy for her and all," Luxi said. "Just not sure if I'm happy for me in this. Ava was a loner for a long time, then up and ran off with some choirboy, then when he dumped her, went for the bad-boy-leather type." "And he's who she married?" "More or less," Luxi agreed. "They're nuts about each other." "She left the choirboy for the biker." "Biker treats her right." Grayson frowned. "Still seems dangerous, though. First serious relationship with someone like that?" "Like what?" "Well ... dangerous." "It's dangerous to be with someone dangerous." Luxi propped her right leg up on the seat, resting her elbow against her knee. "You're a walking thesaurus, aren't you?" "I'm tired from the flight," he replied. "All ninety minutes of it." "Well, someone's cranky." "I just don't get why you think Dante's bad news." 116
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"Hey, you're the one you called him the bad-boy-leather type." "And you're the one who assumed that it meant he was a controlling jackass. People can be all kinds of types, you know." Apparently, Grayson had struck a nerve without trying. This time when Luxi huffed, there was nothing cute about it. "Dante was in love with Ava forever. He just didn't know how to tell her. When the choirboy broke her heart—in a very chicken-shit way, I might add—it prompted him to act before he lost her again. He's been damn good to her." "See," Grayson said, "you didn't tell me that part." "I didn't think I had to." "Well, it would've helped." Luxi shrugged. "People say all kinds of shit about me, too, you know, just because I don't fuck around. I dress to fuck, so I'm a slut. I like sex, so I'm a whore. I gotta mouth on me, so I'm white trash. I don't take shit, so I don't have feelings. You have any idea how long I've gotten that bullshit? Doesn't bother me any 'cause most people don't know better. Except you." "Except me," Grayson agreed fiercely. "But I had to get to know you first." "You've known me less than a week. Who are you kidding?" "I know enough to know I like you more than I should." She rolled her eyes. "'Cause I'm not the girl next door." "No, because people out there aren't nearly as smart as me, and will likely jump to all the conclusions you just listed if 117
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it came out before the election that I seduced one of my staffers." Luxi favored him with a small smirk. "So you're seducing me now? That's new." "Well, I wasn't the lunge-er that night, but I sure as hell didn't want to stop. You're the one who kicked me out." "Yeah, before things went too far." "Too far for whom? We weren't committing a crime!" She inhaled sharply. "John said—" "To heck with whatever John said. John is all politics, all the time." Grayson's grip on the steering wheel tightened. "What happened that night had nothing to do with the campaign and everything to do with some complex you have in thinking you're not good enough. You just said it yourself— you're not what people think you are. I'd imagine at least you're smart enough to know that, too." "I think I know what I'm talking about a bit more than you do." "Then why in God's name are you talking yourself in circles?" "Because whatever you're looking for with this—" She gestured between them. "Can't happen." "I wasn't looking for anything, and I sure as heck didn't expect it." Luxi crossed her arms. "This was a bad idea." "What?" "You, me, this. This whole thing. Why the fuck did you volunteer to come with me?" 118
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"Fair's fair," Grayson retorted. "Why in the world did you agree?" "Because I like you, damn it." "Yeah? Well I like you, too. So put that in your pipe and smoke it." Silence drowned out the echo of raised voices, settling in a thick cloud of discomfort over the vehicle. For long, heavy seconds, Luxi said nothing. She merely gazed out the window, turned from him, yet breathing in such a way Grayson knew how painfully aware she was of his presence. His hands, which remained on the steering wheel, again became afflicted with the need to touch her, feel her skin beneath his, comfort her or kiss her or do something to get them away from the awkward middle ground. Yet for all his failings, he was smart enough to know the difference between what felt right and what was right, and at the moment, touching Luxi would do little to move them forward. Therefore, he opted instead for words. "I was married once." Luxi didn't react for a long moment. "Yeah. I heard. Office talk and the like." "Her name was Amily." She swallowed. "Emily?" "No, spelled with an A. Her folks were all artsy or whatever." "So says the guy named Grayson." "You want me to tell the story or do you want to make fun of my name?" "I can multitask." 119
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He spared her a grin, but noted dismally that she didn't look pleased, rather, upset and distracted. Better hurry and get to the point. "She was ... well, the preacher's wife. Demure, soft-spoken and devout. She taught Sunday school, hosted bake sales, proofread my sermons ... and I had no idea it was all an act." "An act?" "Yeah. She was raised in an extraordinarily conservative family, the kind where they taught her Sesame Street was in one of Hell's nicer neighborhoods. She rebelled hard, got mixed up with some bad people, and basically had a rough run until her parents intervened and sent her to rehab." Grayson sighed. "She came back and chose me because I was the guy her parents didn't like but wouldn't object to. Then one day, she realized she was an adult and nothing could stop her from living the life she wanted, so she seduced Dean Tanner, who was my associate minister at the time, in my office at the church." "You caught them?" "No," Grayson replied. "No, that's the thing. She told me. She was sitting on the couch when I got home, and she said she'd ... she told me. Like it was nothing." Luxi murmured something, but he could tell it was more for a sound effect than a response. After telling the same story over and over, it became easy to detect the verbal cues. "She and Dean left together the next day, though word has it they didn't live happily ever after." He sighed again, harder this time. "I tell you this because I know packages can be deceiving. That was why I didn't make assumptions about you 120
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... not the way I did her. You've been more honest with me in a few days than she was in years." "You can't know that," Luxi replied, sounding slightly choked. "Maybe not." Grayson dragged his attention away from the road long enough to look into her eyes. "But I have faith." Was this Lucifer's idea of a joke? She had never questioned her boss's decision to infuse his demons with the weaker qualities of Big J's favored creation. The Sins, like all of Hell's on-ground operatives, were modeled to look, feel, and otherwise appear human, which included a heartbeat and resting pulse-rate. Heartbeats were hard to miss, especially in her profession where getting up close and personal was one of the expectations. Never before had she cursed her ability to experience. In a blink all that had changed. Now she hated her heartbeat and her pulse, and whatever sent tingles across her skin and made her head feel unstable and light. Lucifer had to have done this to her on purpose. Sent her here with the intention of keeping her away from Grayson, knowing her curiosity about the task would only draw her closer. Make her feel for the guy, make her care. Make her like him enough so when she discovered one of her assignments had destroyed his marriage she would at last know the taste of true regret. Grayson clearly knew something was up, though he had enough tact to know when not to press an issue. Ever since pulling the rental into their accommodations at Maple Hill Inn, she had gone to extreme measures in avoiding him. 121
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Amily Bailey. She'd been a pretty big challenge. Reluctant, faithful, and completely in love with her husband. Those cases were the hardest to work—and the most fun. Luxi had thoroughly enjoyed the challenge of coercing the woman into the associate pastor's bed. Fuck, she'd more than used every dirty tactic in the book—she'd added enough of her own moves to warrant an addendum. And now she knew the other side of it. Grayson thought Amily had duped him into marriage. Her chest felt like a vacuum, hollow, cold, and shaking under the weight of a tremendous pressure wave. What was she supposed to do now? Did she tell him? Did she keep it to herself? Did she fester and wait until her guilty rage sent her somewhere she'd never before considered? "It was a job," Luxi murmured. She sat on the edge of the lavish bed in the middle of the extravagantly decorated suite, gripping the side of the mattress so hard she feared she'd tear it apart. "It was a job. It was a job." "What was a job?" She whirled around, her gaze meeting Grayson's. He stood in the doorway, frowning in concern. "How long have you been there?" she demanded. "Long enough to know you're angsting over a job." "I am not angsting." Grayson's features relaxed. "Luxi, I'm a preacher." He turned and closed the door. "I know moral angst when I see it." She worried a lip between her teeth and quickly calculated her options. Lying was the most obvious conclusion, and 122
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something she used to do with ease. As in yesterday— yesterday she could have lied to him and not batted an eyelash. Today, right now, something felt different and she couldn't say what. She also couldn't tell him the truth. "Okay," Luxi said. "Maybe I am angsting. But it's ... what you said in the car." "It was a long drive; I think I said a lot." "About your wife." "Ex-wife." "Yeah, her." "What about her?" "Well ... a few years ago, I was hired by a, ahh, PI." "Private investigator?" Luxi nodded, words story-booking their way into a workable tale. She unwound a bit, easing her way back into her comfort zone. "Right. Ummm. The gig was this, see. I had to see if someone would cheat. Make a move on me, you know? The wife thought he was hiding something, but didn't think it was an affair. He wasn't the type or something. She thought he was sick and didn't wanna tell her." Grayson crossed his arms. "Okay." "PI thought different, which is why he brought me in. At first, the husband was resistant—loved his wife, and all that shit—but eventually he caved in to me and..." A foreign warmth kissed her cheeks, and she realized in shock she was blushing. "I didn't think nothing of it. It was a job, I needed the cash, and even though the wife was hurt I figured she was better off knowing. But then ... what you said today—" 123
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Light and understanding reached his eyes. Grayson nodded, his posture relaxing. "Oh. You think you caused it. You think you made him cheat, like what happened with Amily." "Exactly like what happened with Amily," Luxi deadpanned. "Oh, Luxi." He strode across the room with intent, his hands hooking around her upper arms, and though she knew she should pull away, his skin on hers felt too good to resist. The pounding in her head and chest hadn't alleviated much, but the lack of condemnation on his face went a long way in easing her guilt. "You can't force someone to cheat," he murmured, kissing her brow. She'd kissed and been kissed so many times, so many ways, and she'd remained unaffected; why was it her body ached at his touch? "No matter what you did, it doesn't matter." She laughed nervously. "You say that—" "I mean it. People don't just fall into affairs. There has to be something else, and maybe there was with me and Amily, aside from her problems. Maybe I could have... I dunno. But I don't want you feeling bad about something you didn't cause. It would've happened, anyway. Eventually." "How can you know?" "I just do." Grayson paused. "And though the woman might have resented it, you probably saved her a harder, more painful shock by letting her know then what her husband would do rather finding out years later." Luxi exhaled deeply and closed her eyes. She knew his tune would change if he knew the truth, but people were 124
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always wiser when it came to the ailments of others. Personal heartache and loss could only be reasoned from a distance— after the heart had time to patch itself together again. Still, knowing this didn't stop her from enjoying the tender way he caressed her skin or the intimate warmth of his closeness. The larger part of her realized she should break away, but she didn't care at the moment. Comfort and reassurance were two things Luxi had never gone out of her way to seek; now that she had them she didn't want to let them go. Not yet, at least. She needed to experience the quiet a little longer. Grayson kissed her brow again, lingering this time. Then she felt his hot breath against her cheek, and once in warning on her lips before realizing the time to back away had passed. Luxi trembled and pressed closer, feeling his erection against her stomach. She knew what was coming, of course, but she couldn't help herself. She needed to feel—she needed to feel something other than shame and regret. She needed... "Grayson." She didn't know what she was going to say, and the next instant it didn't matter, for her face was in his hands and he was caressing her lips with his own. He tasted warm and welcoming, hot and needy, open and honest. He tasted like no man she'd ever known. He tasted real, and the wall she'd just reconstructed promptly dissolved. Grayson froze against her mouth when she failed to kiss him back, then pulled away, his eyes bright with rejected humiliation. "Sorry," he said quickly. "I don't know what I was thinking. I'll just—" Luxi didn't allow herself think. She couldn't, lest she talk herself out of something she knew she wanted. Her brain shut 125
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down as she grasped his wrist, tugging him back. And this time when their lips met, there was no hesitation. No roadblocks. She welcomed him into her mouth with alien desperation. Never before—not once—not like this. She knew then. She knew she was lost. "Grayson..." She was drunk on him, as though years of wandering through shadows and soot were finally over. Grayson had jumped into the darkness with her, and he would lead her out because he knew the way. A knock shattered through the room like a cannon. Luxi's eyes flew open and she shoved him back. "Oh god," she murmured. "Luxi—" "Door. Door." She ran her hand through her hair nervously and fluffed out the back, moving away with intent. "Gotta—" Grayson sighed. "Luxi, we need to talk about this." Luxi ignored him and threw the door open, stumbling in surprise. "Invi." "Envy what?" Grayson asked. "Invi, my sister." "Envy Ava?" Invi waved, peering inside. "Invi me." "Envy you?" "Invi is my sister," Luxi corrected. "Two i's." Grayson blinked. "I am really confused. Envy is your sister with two eyes?" Invi snickered. "Wow, sis. Way to pick the smart ones." Luxi blushed and looked away. Somehow, she figured explaining that her companion's blood had temporarily rushed 126
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south rather than north wouldn't clarify anything. "This," she said, gesturing at her sister, "is Invidia, my youngest sister. Told you I have a big family." The blonde waved again. "I go by Invi. I-N-V-I." "Two i's," Grayson said, nodding as understanding brightened his face. "I think I'm caught up. Your family has some weird names." "Says Grayson," Luxi replied. "Haven't we had this argument already once today?" Invi scoffed again. "You guys want to flirt all night or do this thing?" "Do this thing," she replied. "I just gotta go freshen up." "Wanna look your best. The whole fam's here." Invi cast Grayson a skeptical glance. "They know you brought a date?" Luxi smiled flatly. "Guess they will soon enough." "I can't wait," Grayson assured her, though his voice was heavy. He clearly wanted to talk. Invi laughed. "Famous last words." [Back to Table of Contents]
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Chapter Nine Grayson hadn't traveled much down south for pleasure, excluding the time John had dragged him to Louisiana for a drunken Mardi Gras weekend. That didn't really count, though, seeing as he couldn't remember most of it. Still, for all the wonder and mystique, history and energy generated in New Orleans, there was something to be said for the simpler things. Mammoth Plantation was one of those locations one only saw on Travel Channel specials. It sat on several lofty acres of elevated land on the corner of a rather popular intersection, which might be problematic in larger cities. It also reminded him of Tara from Gone with the Wind—large, cream-colored columns to offset the faux white stucco look, a veranda on the second floor, and enough accommodations in both room and view to appease the most hardened traveler. Not to mention the gardens were gorgeous. When Luxi had mentioned her whole family would be at the reception, he'd admittedly pictured a more intimate evening, especially given the location. In contrast, not an inch of the grounds appeared unclaimed. He felt very much out of his element, and somewhat overdressed. "There's my brother, Gula," Luxi murmured, pointing to a stocky, completely bald middle-aged man chatting animatedly with a barely-legal blonde bombshell who wore spiked heels and fishnet stockings. "Gula?" Her family really had some weird names. 128
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"He's a big teddy bear, don't let him fool you." Luxi arched up to catch a glimpse of the woman with whom her brother was conversing. "Oh, and that's Pixley." "Pixley?" "Family friend." "Your family is friends with a girl named Pixley?" Luxi made a face. "Good friends." Grayson frowned, then he caught a glimpse of something. It was likely just the distance between them—and how eyes loved playing tricks on the brain—but from where he stood, he would have sworn he saw a book floating by Pixley's head. Luxi grabbed his arm and tugged. "What's up?" "Nothing," he replied, taking a step forward and straining his eyes. "Just ... from over here, it looks..." She swore under her breath and tugged on his arm again, forcing his attention away from the strange optical illusion. "You wanna meet the others or what?" Grayson pursed his lips and nodded. "Yeah, sorry. Just ... guess that flight took more out of me than I thought." "No worries," she assured him. "Over there..." Luxi pointed to a familiar face—her sister, Invi—who was sipping wine and standing between a man with blood-red hair and a taller, lankier guy who could have been plucked from the Midwest. "Ira and Ace." "Friends?" She shook her head. "Brothers. Ira's a real hothead ... get it?" "How are these people your siblings?" 129
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Luxi looked at him sharply. "What the fuck does that mean?" "With the exception of Gula, there, you all look about twelve years old collectively." "Says the man who had his tongue down my throat thirty minutes ago," she replied. "Seriously." "We were adopted." That much made sense, but something still felt off. Grayson worried over it for a moment or so before deciding he was preoccupied with whatever had led up to that stolen moment back at Maple Hill. Then he remembered they'd only booked the one room, and for the life of him, he couldn't decide if it was a mistake or intentional on their one of their parts. "Perb should be around here somewhere..." "Perv?" Luxi snickered again. "Perb—with a b as in 'boy'." "You're never allowed to make fun of my name again. You know that, right?" "That implies you think I don't make fun of Perb." She grinned wickedly. "We actually all used to call him Darcy." "Darcy?" "After Mr. Darcy? He has a passing resemblance to Colin Firth." That much prompting was enough for Grayson to identify the final sibling, and passing resemblance was understating it a little. "He is Colin Firth." "Don't tell him that." 130
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"I'm serious." Grayson blinked dumbly. "There's no chance, I'm guessing, that he's Colin Firth's long lost twin that your parents just happened to find at the adoption center?" "How exactly do you think adoptions are conducted?" "I don't know. All I know is he is Colin Firth." As though sensing their discussion, Faux-Colin strolled up with an unmistakable air of Austenian pomposity, so Darcyesque that Grayson would have sworn he was sucked into a BBC special. After all, Amily had only made him watch Pride and Prejudice eighteen times. "Luxuria," said Faux-Colin with, among other things, a haughty British accent. "I didn't realize you were bringing friends." "Oh, you gotta be kidding me," Grayson mumbled. "I beg your pardon?" Luxi giggled and leaned into Grayson's side, which provoked him and her brother enough to stare at her for a few seconds before turning their attention back on each other. Apparently, neither of them were accustomed to hearing girlish laughter bubble off her lips. It seemed better to gather his bearings and not make an ass of himself. Grayson cleared his throat and extended a hand. "Grayson Bailey. I'm—" "That candidate from Missouri." Faux-Colin regarded the proffered handshake with a proud sneer. "Little sister, it appears I lost a wager. Our, shall I say, guardian, gambled that you would arrive with a companion. I thought you had better taste than that." 131
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"Better taste?" Grayson repeated. Faux-Colin's lips curled in disdain. "A politician." "Oh, lighten up, Perb," Luxi retorted. "Just because you couldn't get a girl to come with you doesn't mean the rest of us aren't allowed to have any fun. Now, have you seen Ava?" "I believe she and her..." He shuddered. "Paramour are off christening the reception. I didn't realize what an absolutely atrocious influence you had been on her until watching the two of them practically fornicate on the serving table." "Awww, shucks, bro, I love you, too." Luxi thrust herself into her brother's arms and planted a big smacker on his cheek. "Have fun. And let me know if you need any help removing that stick up your ass later. I'm sure someone at this gig owes me a favor." "Knowing you..." Luxi rolled her eyes and steered Grayson away without another word. "Is he always that pleasant?" he whispered furiously once they were a safe distance away. "What? Perb?" She shrugged. "I'm just glad we caught him in a good mood." "Your family is a little frightening, aren't they?" A grin tugged the corner of her mouth. "You have no idea." The night had potential for disaster, but Luxi was too amused to give a shit. Grayson's vocal and silent reactions made the introductions to her various relatives and colleagues more than entertaining. Be it Perb's pomposity or Pixley's interpretation of appropriate formal attire, watching him was almost like seeing everyone for the first time all over again. 132
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Not once had she had the opportunity to view how her crowd must look through another's eyes. By the time Luxi managed to locate Ava, whose flushed cheeks and tousled hair confirmed Perb's accusation—Dante's shit-eating grin didn't prove much of a defense, either—she and Grayson had been roaming the grounds and making various introductions for at least an hour. "How are you handling the fam?" Ava asked Grayson. "We really know how to throw a party." "It's a little more overwhelming than I expected," he confessed. "You're telling me," Dante agreed, throwing an arm around Ava. "Didn't know you came with all these accessories, sweetheart." Ava made a face. "Yeah, well, you're past the ninety-day warranty, so you can't take me back." "Fuck," the vampire swore. "And here I thought I was due for an upgrade." Luxi wrinkled her nose. "You guys are gonna start making out again, aren't you?" Dante grinned. "Probably." "Props for honesty." Luxi shrugged, then took Grayson by the arm and steered him in the opposite direction. "In the meantime, we'll take that as our cue." "Good idea," Ava said, gazing lovingly at her vampire. Grayson waved. "Nice meeting you two. And congratulations!" They didn't make it far before colliding with another familiar face, and likewise the one Luxi had been most 133
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determined to avoid, even if she had reconciled the reality there really was no chance of getting away from the party without running into the boss. In fact, she was surprised she'd managed this long, though she wasn't sure how Lucifer would react to seeing the target of her assignment on her arm at a very public demon party. True to form, Lucifer stood near the punchbowl, waving at colleagues and sporting his devil horns. The second his gaze met hers, he cast her a friendly, however, frightening smile. Luxi did her best to return it, though her stomach had knotted and her damnable heart had decided to thunder again. No sense pretending she hadn't seen him. "Friend of yours?" Grayson asked. "Let's call him the father I never knew," Luxi replied. "Yeah. And he's all of, what, twenty-seven?" She stifled a laugh. "And some change. Tell him that, though. He'll get a kick out of it." Lucifer's smile grew wider as they approached—one of his enigmatic either mad-as-hell or completely amused grins, and likewise one of the more unsettling expressions to encounter. Luxi envied Grayson something fierce in that moment; he didn't realize just how high the pendulum swung, and though she wanted for nothing, it'd be nice not to walk such a fine line every now and again. "Thought you were going to slip right by me, didn't you?" Lucifer noted. "Oh," Luxi replied, her voice strained. "Think I know better than that." 134
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"Yes, you would think." He turned his attention to Grayson. "And who is this?" "Grayson Bailey. I'm Luxi's boss in Missouri." "I'm Luxi's boss everywhere else." Lucifer's eyes danced. "Pleased to meet you. Hope you guess my name." Oh god. Luxi's shoulders slumped. He was in one of those moods. The mortifyingly lame dad jokes spun only as the Prince of Lies could spin them; the sort only Lucifer found funny and frequently forced laughter from others on threat of hellish punishment. From The Rolling Stones to the Divine Comedy, no piece of self-depreciating or glorifying media was safe from the devil's warped sense of humor. Grayson's brows furrowed. "Sorry?" "Oh, he's kidding," she explained hurriedly. "He's a kidder. Aren't you, Luc?" "Yes, I'm a kidder." Grayson's gaze shifted to the top of Lucifer's head. "Must say, those horns look rather—" She nodded. "Impressive, aren't they?" "Interesting choice for a reception." Lucifer laughed and patted the top of his head. "Oh, I forgot about those." "Any reason for them?" "Of course." The smile lingered another second before dropping in favor of a deadpanned, "I'm the devil." Luxi stared at him blankly, nervous energy pressing against her chest. For a long beat she didn't know what to do—then laughter bubbled off her lips. Loud, forced, 135
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exaggerated laughter. At an apparent loss, Grayson followed her lead, though he sounded, if possible, less enthusiastic. "I don't get it," he admitted through his teeth, never losing his smile. Lucifer shrugged. "The lady said I'm a kidder." He finally extended a hand. "Luc I. Pher. Friend of the family, and the one responsible for throwing this shindig together." Grayson nodded appreciatively. "Very nice. And what is it you do?" "Oh, a little bit of everything." "He's a writer," Luxi blurted, though from where she didn't know. It seemed safer than letting her boss drag Grayson down a line of inscrutable clues for his own amusement. Grayson seemed impressed. "Anything I'd know?" "Perhaps," Lucifer replied, not missing a beat. "Have you read The Real Secret Garden: Apples Are Delicious?" Luxi groaned. "Jesus, you're killing me, here." "That's the sequel, actually," the devil said. He turned his attention back to Grayson. "I didn't know Luxuria was bringing a date. Do you accompany all the interns you barely know to family functions three states away?" "Just the pretty ones." Lucifer chuckled. "Something tells me you're going to make it just fine in professional politics." Whatever Luxi had been prepared to say—be it a witty retort or a desperate excuse to depart from her boss's company—vanished the next second, her attention stolen by an approaching party guest. A party guest bearing the most famous face in the world, though his most fervent followers 136
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wouldn't recognize him. It was the last face she or anyone had expected on the invite list. The face many yearned to see upon death. "Oh. My. Fuck." "What?" Grayson asked, but there was no sense answering him. Big J appeared as normal as anyone else. He was of medium height, had a strong, lean build that was accentuated by his loose-fitting Hawaiian shirt and khakis. His famous face was a young one, complete with a head full of sandy-blond hair. In a strange way he looked like someone she'd always known and a stranger all at once. No resident of Hell, aside from Lucifer, had ever stood in Big J's presence. It was terrifying, exhilarating, and maddening as fuck. "What the hell is he doing here?" Luxi murmured under her breath. Lucifer didn't answer. The enigmatic smile had faded, replaced with an even more unnerving shield of stern dissatisfaction. "Who is he?" Grayson whispered loudly. "Old friend," Lucifer replied, distracted. "Excuse me." He moved quickly to intercept the crasher, leaving Luxi with something between dread and excitement pooling in her belly. "This could be bad." "I take it they're old friends the way Professor X and Magneto were friends," Grayson said. "Epically tragic bromance." Luxi nodded, then smirked and bumped his shoulder with hers. "Nerd." 137
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Lucifer and Big J were conversing heatedly, though not loud enough to determine what was being said. All surrounding conversations had fallen awkwardly silent. Across the gardens, Luxi saw Ace attempting to talk Ira down— probably from doing something cosmically stupid like interrupting two quarreling deities. Invi and Perb wore near identical looks of disdain. Gula stood near Ava and Dante, as though protecting them from the limelight. "This is weird," Grayson whispered. "This seems weird to me. Does it seem weird to you?" "Big J turning up anywhere we're at is weird." "What's a Big J?" Luxi bit her lip to smother a grin. "Magneto over there." "Do I want to know how he got that name?" "I can definitely say ... no. No, you don't." At last, the tension in the air broke—not entirely, but enough of which to make note. Big J took a step back from Lucifer, waving dismissively. "Oh, calm down, old man," he said loudly. "I just dropped by to wish the happy couple all the best." "Yes," Lucifer agreed. "Pardon me if there are some things I can't take on faith." "That wouldn't be a first, now would it?" The devil didn't crack a grin. Not a good sign. "Avaritia?" he said loudly. "Do you want to thank our guest?" Luxi glanced to her sister, who hesitantly replied, "Consider him thanked." "There you have it," Lucifer said. "Now ... this is a private affair—" 138
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"Yes, of course." Big J nodded, gesturing to the party guests. "Please, everyone. Return to your drinks and mingling. Luc and I have some catching up to do." For a second, Luxi thought Lucifer might protest; instead, he nodded and discreetly veered Big J toward a corner near the Mammoth Plantation gift shop. It took a moment for the party to recommence, but after a few pained seconds, chatter rose to an uproar—everyone suddenly bursting with new nervous energy. Luxi released a deep sigh, but she wasn't ready to call the game. Big J publicly meeting to chat with Lucifer didn't happen. Something was up. And anything involving the celestial party-crasher couldn't be good. The smile that tickled Jev's face was one Lucifer knew well. He'd worn the same look before unleashing the plagues on the Egyptians; before taking the bet that Job wouldn't curse his name if he put him through the shredder. Jev was up to something, and knowing him, Lucifer wouldn't like the results. "I've got to say," Jev said. "I didn't know you had it in you." "Pardon?" "I see you only have one Sin on assignment." Lucifer shrugged. "The world is pulling itself apart right now. No need to put all my players on the field." "Yes, and this has nothing to do, I'm sure, with our wager." The wager. Lucifer had expected as much. After Avaritia's departure from the fold, Jev had been eager to open the lines 139
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of communication again, and betting on the future had once been a great hobby of theirs. Yet the stakes on this particular gamble were high, and Lucifer never did anything without the intention of claiming victory. He wanted those souls freed. The five oldest in Hell. Once Luxuria failed her assignment and came forward to resign her post—conclusively—those condemned would at last be moved from the fiery lake and, after so many millennia, know some sort of peace. Jev hated losing. It was a damn shame he didn't know just how hard Lucifer was willing to fight to get what he wanted. "Is that what brought you here?" Lucifer asked, crossing his arms. "To talk shop?" "Come now. We used to meet like this all the time." "Yes, and then your head met your ass." Jev frowned. "Is that any way to talk to a friend?" "I suppose I don't see what you hope to accomplish by crashing Avaritia's reception." "Is it wrong of me to wish her well?" "That is not the reason you're here." Jev splayed his hands. "Call me curious," he replied. "I just have been keeping tabs on you for quite a while, old friend." "You don't say." "I also know Luxi is currently romancing the scorned ex of a previous assignment." Lucifer's jaw tightened, but he didn't take the bait. The fact Jev had known about the Sins as long as he had, despite the lengths to which the devil had gone to maintain their secrecy, was still a sore spot. 140
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"What is Luxi's objective, exactly?" Jev prodded. "I fail to see where it is any business of yours." "That was often your problem, wasn't it?" His mouth formed a line and he stepped forward, expression turning grave. Again, Lucifer didn't respond. "Here's my supposition. Tell me if I miss something. You waited an appropriate amount of time following our initial wager and decided to send Luxi on a mission you knew she would fail." Jev shrugged. "Perhaps one with no clear objective. And when she inevitably falls in love with her target and demands her freedom, I will honor my bargain, releasing those five souls we discussed, and therein be shown the error of my ways." "Don't be ridiculous," Lucifer replied drolly. "That would take a miracle." Jev smiled again, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Ah, Luc. If only you had played the game. Now I'm afraid I'm going to have to show you how it's done." "The wager stands." "Of course. I am a god of my word." Lucifer inclined his head. "Then I'll see you at the finish line." "Yes," Jev replied softly, but with enough venom to hear the threat. "You will." [Back to Table of Contents]
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Chapter Ten Admittedly, it took Grayson a little while to find his footing around Luxi's family. It was a large bunch—larger than he would have anticipated even with her disclaimer—but he still chalked his few fumbles to the fact that he had fallen out of practice. Amily had been a Hatfield; while neither she nor her considerably large and outstandingly dysfunctional family knew if they branched from the famous feud, Grayson had always wagered the answer was yes. It also went a long way in explaining why Amily's parents had been so rigid about her upbringing—she had cousins who landed themselves in prison for any number of charges, and even more who evaded the law. Her folks hadn't cared for their relatives too much, but family was family, so Grayson and Amily had attended every holiday function, no matter how many times they swore they'd had their fill of punishment. However, the oddities of Luxi's family aside, they were ostensibly a very tight group. Whether Luc's old friend had intentionally crashed the party was up in the air—though consensus said yes—but with some music and bad jokes, everyone regrouped and found themselves on track. Luxi had excused herself briefly to double-check on Ava, leaving Grayson with the unenviable task of chatting with Ira, her frighteningly confrontational brother. "You and my sister close?" Ira demanded, his gaze slanted. "I like her." 142
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"That wasn't my question." "We don't know each other all that well, to be honest." "Don't hurt her." "What?" Ira took a step forward. "She's not the type to bring her fuck-toys to family events, you hear me? I see you sniffing around her like a fucking dog in heat and I don't like it. For whatever reason, she thinks you're all right, and that's all good as long as it remains good. You hurt her, you look at her funny, you so much as breathe on her in a way she doesn't like, and you answer to me. That's not something you want." Grayson swallowed. "You're a little scary, aren't you?" A secretive smile played with Ira's lips. "Little bit, yeah." "I won't hurt your sister." "That's right. You won't." The smile turned into a smirk. Ira patted Grayson's cheek. "'Cause you look like you're smart enough not to want me in your business." "I definitely don't want you in my business." Thankfully, the Lord decided to stop testing him. Luxi appeared behind her brother the next second, her expression warped with cynical amusement. "Ira, what did I tell you about scaring my dates?" Ira's gaze remained steadfast on Grayson, cool and collected. "No worries, kid," he said. "I think me and your senator are gonna get along just fine." "Joy," Grayson said. "Just as long as he doesn't piss me off." Luxi rolled her eyes. "You're scaring him." "I know. Have you tried? It's a fucking blast." 143
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"Why don't you go chase some tail? I hear Pixley's in the need for a lay." Ira brightened at that and slapped a hand on Luxi's shoulder. "Pixley's here? Tasty little morsel never lets me know when she's around." Grayson plastered on a smile, his mind jumping to Pixley's fishnet stockings and the incredibly short skirt that barely covered her ass cheeks. "She's hard to miss." Ira nodded, now scouring the party attendants. "Right, well, good talking to you. And keep what I said in mind." "The part where you threatened me if I breathed on your sister?" "That's right." Luxi sucked in her cheeks, looking far too amused. At least she had enough compassion not to say anything until her brother was well out of earshot. "Ira give you the speech, I take it?" "What speech?" "The same speech he gave Dante after he and Ava made it all official." He laughed nervously, casting a hand through his hair. "You must really not bring many men home to mom." "You're the first." "The first?" Luxi shrugged and pivoted on her heel, and Grayson stumbled to follow. The night had been a collage of information—fast-paced and fun, but he found himself craving some of that one-on-one time John had warned him against. They had started something in their room, and if he were 144
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completely honest with himself, his mouth had yet to stop tingling from her kiss. He kept waiting for the warning bells to sound—kept thinking something would click and he'd remember who he was and what he was supposed to be doing. Back home waited a stack of paperwork, preparations for a rally, a disapproving campaign manager, unflattering poll numbers, people who thought he was the antichrist, and an empty bed. Oh, and a death threat lingering over his head. None of that seemed to matter—not even the stuff he knew he should really care about. If he didn't know better he'd swear Luxi had placed him under some sort of enchantment. As it was, the more he knew about her the more he wanted to know. She was the epitome of the sort of girl he should avoid. The sort of girl made for ruining reputations. Still, he didn't give a damn. At least not today. Mammoth Plantation was an oasis of calm. Even with the sounds of the celebration behind them, it was easy to feel completely isolated without traveling far. A short distance from the party sat a small bridge that led to a petite manmade pond. It seemed idyllic to the point of feeling inauthentic—as though he'd stepped through one of the sketches in Mary Poppins and landed himself in a world too lovely to be his own. "Why did you come?" Grayson blinked and shot Luxi a curious look. She did not return it. "What do you mean?" "There are a thousand and one things you should be doing now. Hell, I'm the new girl and even I know that. You packed 145
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up shop and tagged along when anyone with any kind of sense would have listened to his friend." "I thought we already went over this," he said slowly. "You like me, I like you." "Yeah, I remember." "Then what's the problem?" "I dunno. Fuck, my mind changes every three seconds." Luxi shot him a thin smile, crossing her arms. "I get wanting to escape. I do." "That's not why I came." "Then why?" "Again: because I like you." "You have any idea how long it's been since someone liked me well enough not to try and fuck me?" Grayson tripped. He would have crashed against the bridge railing had Luxi not grabbed hold of him. "What? I ... uhhh ... thanks." She bit her lip, and though he knew she wanted to laugh, she managed to keep it in. "Don't sweat it." "What did you mean when you said ... err..." "That people try to fuck me if they like me?" "Yes." "Well, that," she said. "That is what I meant." The hot, desperate kisses they'd exchanged suddenly fell into a darker light. "Look, I didn't... If you think I came with you to get you into bed—" "Grayson—" "I didn't come with you to seduce you." "But even if you did, that'd be okay." 146
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Grayson tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. "Okay? So it's okay if I wanted to demean you the way others have?" Luxi sighed and waved a hand. "Sex isn't a big evil, you know. We're kinda wired for it. The fact that you wanna do the nasty doesn't make me think any less of you." "What makes you think I want to ... erm, do the nasty?" "'Cause I know what an erection feels like, especially when it rubs against me." Heat tinged his cheeks. "Well ... umm ... that's just ... you're an attractive woman, and I am a man ... and it happens." "Congrats, you passed sixth grade science." "But that doesn't mean—" "You don't wanna fuck me?" Grayson coughed and thumped his chest, his skin burning and his mind taking him down a dangerous path. They were far enough from the others that no one would miss them if he shoved her against a tree, tore her slacks down her legs, and buried his face in her hot pussy. He'd wondered for three days now how she'd taste, if she'd pant and moan, if she'd clutch his head and thrust herself against his mouth. With as vocal as she was—as cocky and self-assured—Luxi also wore a coat of armor, and he wanted so badly to assuage her defenses and convince her trusting him wouldn't get her hurt. When he failed to summon a retort, Luxi sighed. "Don't feel bad about it. It's not like—" "Wait." "No, Grayson, I get it." 147
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"No you don't. You don't at all. You're just ... damn it, you're just more upfront with these things than anyone I've known. You throw me off guard—" "I'd rather get right to the fucking rather than all this pretense about what people actually want. It separates the mice from the men." She shrugged. "So far I haven't met many that fall into that second category." "I don't want to just get to ... that word." "Sure you do. If I decided to jump your bones right now and take your stick out for a ride, you wouldn't mind." "Not now, but I sure as heck would have the first time I saw you." "You mean seventy-two hours ago?" "It doesn't matter when," Grayson replied hotly. "I know you now." "Enough to ride me like a pony? Well, hot damn, why didn't you say so?" "That's not what I want!" "Then what do you want?" Something seized hold of him—something deep and primal, something completely beyond anything he'd ever experienced. Making verbal arguments had lost its affect, and he had to touch her now. With a growl he barely recognized as his, Grayson seized her upper arms and dragged her to his chest. "This," he said, then pressed his mouth to hers. Each time he tasted her lips the air around his head exploded, sending him spiraling into a new form of ecstasy. Everything Luxi did was packed with more power and passion than seemed humanly possible. Though she went still 148
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at first, her hesitation melted fast and in seconds she devoured him, turning the art of kissing into a masterpiece the likes of which the world had never seen. She danced with him, exploring his lips with her teeth and tongue, taking hot drags off his mouth as though he were a bad habit she couldn't quit. She tasted warm and dangerous, temptation personified, and every touch tugged him deeper. He didn't care if he ever was found. At some point, breathing became important. Grayson broke away, panting, his blood rushing and his temples throbbing. "I need all of this," he whispered against her lips. "Everything." Luxi's eyes widened. If he didn't know better, he'd say she looked panicked. "Oh god." "I don't do things halfway. I haven't felt like this in years— " "Grayson—" "I know this is insane." "Good," she said, licking her lips. He swallowed a groan. "'Cause this might sound weird, but I think I know you enough to know this is not you. You're a collected guy, Grayson. You don't just trip over shit for some girl you just met." "Yeah, well, you're the exception that proves the rule." Luxi stared at him for a long moment before breaking away, shaking her head. "If you really knew me..." "Who's to say I don't?" "Well, me, for starters." 149
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"Fine. Tell me if any of this sounds familiar. You're stubborn, smart, wildly sarcastic—" She made a face. "That's what I am, not who." "You think you have nothing to offer." That accusation only annoyed her. She slid her palms down her sides, her hips swaying in ways that ought to be outlawed. "I got plenty to offer, baby." His chest tightened with resurged anger. For whatever reason, her suggestive dance move made something in him snap—break past the point of civility, striking him free of the hazed lust her presence inspired. It was back and forth with her, never an in between, and the back and forth had grown old. "And that's it!" Grayson pointed at her. "That's it right there. You get so scared that someone might get close to you, might actually want to see what's behind your armor that you pretend you have nothing more to offer than sex, and lots of it. You as much told me so in the car." "I did not!" "Bull crap. You jumped down my throat for making the teensiest assumption about your sister's husband based on a comment you made about him being the bad boy type." "You saw him, didn't you? I described him right, didn't I?" "Yeah, you described one part of him. And that's not even the point, damn it, the point is you say these things about yourself and others, and then get defensive about it." Grayson shook his head. "You are so terrified of letting someone in that you're willing to risk a lifetime of loneliness rather than put your heart on the line." "And you think your dick's the miracle cure." 150
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"No, damn it." He gritted his teeth, his jaw clenching. "You are, without a doubt, the most insecure woman I've ever met. One step forward, two back. We make out in your apartment, and you give me some line about not being good enough. You invite me to this thing, then scold me because of the conclusions I came to based off what you told me. You show some sign of vulnerability, then shove me away and tell me I'm only it in for sex." "Well, aren't you?" Luxi retorted, crossing her arms defensively. "I'm sorry if I don't buy this whole you're not like the other girls bullshit. I ain't no Sunday school teacher and I'm definitely not the kinda girl that makes men sprout sonnets. I don't have any daddy issues or whatever it is you people like to throw around, either. You're a fucking preacher, and you're chasing my tail." "You're letting me." "That's what we bad girls like to do, right? Sully the innocent?" "I'm not a quivering virgin, Luxi. I'm a grown man in a grown man's world." "You're a preacher." "What I am," he replied. "Not who I am. Sound familiar?" Her expression melted into a beautiful wave of fury. "Fuck, you drive me outta my head." "No more than you do me. What do you want?" "What do I want?" Grayson nodded. "Yes." "What do I want?" "Yes." 151
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It happened in a blur. One second he was certain her ire would rip him apart by sheer will of force, and then she was against him, mauling his mouth with hers. Touching, grabbing, feeling him all over, her hands everywhere at once. There wasn't an inch of him that went unexplored, and every caress sent sharp little sizzles across his skin. Luxi cupped his cheeks, squeezed his shoulders, dipped her hand between their bodies to rub the hard outline of his erection. She growled into his mouth when he moaned, teased his tongue and bit lovingly at his lips. She took him like he'd never before been taken, and he needed more with every pull. "Damn," she murmured when she drew back, her eyes shining. Whatever he might have said in response was stolen by another kiss, and it didn't occur to him to mind. This has to stop. Luxi bade the inner voice a courtesy nod—or rather she tried. It was a little difficult nodding when being shoved against a bed. Bed? They were back at Maple Hill Inn. How the hell had that happened? Had she magicked them away by accident? No ... no, her fuzzy mind pieced together a hazy memory of just a moment ago, Grayson's arms around her, his mouth never leaving hers as they fumbled their way up the sidewalk toward the front door. Every time she tried to break free he caught her again, and the reasons to resist grew duller by the second. "Gotta get these off," Grayson whispered against her lips, his fumbling fingers attempting to find the catch in her slacks. Luxi grinned. "Just slide them down, big guy." 152
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"I can't find the—ohh, there we go." Then she was naked from the waist down, lying stretched across the bed, her back arching in wordless offering. The nagging voice she'd spent the better part of three days attempting to obey screamed its final protest, then Grayson's head dipped and his mouth found her pussy. "Oh shit." "Mmm," he murmured, tongue tapping her clit. "You like that?" She lifted her pelvis into his touch. "Yeah. Keep at it." He chuckled into her, and the vibration felt so good she thought she would weep. "That an order?" he replied, licking a wet path up her slit. "Direct. Don't make me punish you." "I don't know. That could be fun." Luxi released a sound that was supposed to be a laugh, but sounded more like a moan to her ears. "Nahhh ... you, ahh, don't want me punishing you." Grayson perked a brow and delved his tongue into her sodden cunt, and she released a loud, hoarse scream and threw her legs over his shoulders. "I," he murmured into her, "think that's up for debate." "Do they make all preachers like you?" "Just the sexy ones." "Grayson..." He raised his head, nuzzling her delicately before suckling her clit into his mouth. "Luxi." He lapped at her eagerly, a long moan coursed through his body. "Damn, you taste so good." He shuddered and glanced up, looking into her eyes. "You understand, right?" 153
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"I taste good?" "Well, there's that." "What else?" "This isn't all I want." His head dipped as his tongue sank into her pussy again, nimble fingers stroking her sensitive button tenderly. "I want to hear you say that you understand," he said softly. "Say that you know that I want more—this, all this, but more. You're here because you know that, and because you want to be." Luxi whimpered and thrust herself against him. "Grayson..." "Say it." He pinched her clit. "Say it, please." She arched again, a small sob of pleasure erupting from her lips. She felt exposed in ways she never had, and while the thought sent shivers of pure trepidation through her body, she couldn't care now. Not now. Not with the soft way he touched her, how she felt more in his voice than she had in centuries of bed-hopping. "I want." He tongued her eagerly, massaging her clit with a bit more fury. "Tell me you understand." "Understand." "That I want more." Luxi threaded her fingers through his hair and thrust against his face. "Have more." "I will." "Oh yes." "Tell me." "Grayson." A long sigh rumbled through her lips and she cupped his face, finding his eyes. "I'm with you." 154
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Then she hit it. The tiny pinpricks of delicious pressure zapping through her veins centered and exploded. The room melted away and she spiraled into a sea of unknown, touching things she'd only read about. It went on forever but not long enough, crashing over her in waves that left her skin burning and her chest aching and bringing everything she'd ever known or thought she'd known into question. In that instant she met some form of cosmic understanding. It flooded her, overloaded her, and before she could reconcile anything, something pulled on her chest and she burst into tears. Grayson left her pussy with a parting lick, then crawled up her body and rested at the empty space beside her. And before she knew it, she was in his arms, crying softly against his chest, shudders of ecstasy refusing her rest. It was the most perfect moment she'd experienced. And the knowledge scared the shit out of her. Grayson didn't know how much time passed. Minutes, hours, it didn't seem to matter. He lay with Luxi in his arms, her heart racing against his chest and her trembling breaths tickling his skin. She had calmed rather quickly, her sobs transitioning into soft sighs, but she didn't look up or breach the quiet with words. Something had happened—something he couldn't measure or understand, and prodding her before she was ready to speak would ruin whatever refuge she'd reached. Silences, even good ones, couldn't last forever. At last she said, "This is a bad idea." "What?" 155
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"Us." "We're a bad idea?" She nodded. "For both of us." Grayson smiled and brushed her hair over her shoulder. "Probably. But the election's not too far away." Luxi hesitated. "Yeah..." "If I have you at the end of the tunnel, we can wait." When she didn't immediately respond, he felt he might have betrayed too much. His feelings for her were deep and frighteningly strong, and he knew he was in too far to turn around. The voice that had tempered his action—guided him to think with his head before his heart got involved— remained steadfastly silent where Luxi was concerned. Grayson wanted more. He wanted things that were insane to want, and he wouldn't apologize for it. But like him as she did, he had no way of knowing whether or how Luxi saw him fitting into her life. Her attraction to him might not be strong enough to overcome her fears—and even then, she might not feel up to the fight. While he was pretty damn sure he was more than a pit stop on her journey, he'd been wrong before. "Wait," she said at last. "Yeah. We know we connect...but if you're worried about the campaign or your job, we can always wait until after the election to—" "Do more?" "Yes." Luxi worried a lip between her teeth, her brow furrowed in thought. "So...what we did here..." 156
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"Just between us." "Between us." Her voice carried an odd pitch, contemplative and far away, yet grounded enough to know she was talking about them and not something else. "So when we go back..." Grayson chuckled. "I think John would kill me if I announced I was in any relationship, be it with you or Mother Teresa." "I don't get that." He shrugged. "He knows his stuff. And I'm not the favorable candidate to begin with, so it'd hurt me to throw an unknown variable into the mix." "So we don't... Whatever happens here doesn't leave with us." He nodded. "Not until after the campaign is over. If we still feel like this, then we'd be stupid not to see if it has somewhere to go." "Yeah," Luxi said. Then she rolled on top of him, casting herself astride his hips. Her mouth came down on his before he could think to react. Her kisses were rough and demanding, as though he were a flavor she couldn't get anywhere else, as though she were memorizing his feel, his taste, to carry with her when they were apart. The notion rattled him to his core, but he honestly didn't know if it was due to excitement or fear. At the moment, with her tongue exploring his mouth and her hands wandering across his body, he didn't care to find out. Grayson broke away, gasping. "What—" Her hands were at his fly, and then his pants were down his legs and his naked 157
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cock touched the air. Luxi sighed and wrapped her fingers around him, squeezing his flesh so good thought all but evaporated. "Oh shit," he said. "This doesn't count." "Doesn't count?" "Your turn," Luxi murmured. Decoding her intent wasn't difficult, and though he knew he should protest, the good preacher in him had been completely dominated by the sexdriven male. His cock ached with need of her sweet, hot mouth. He wanted her eyes on him as he thrust himself between those succulent lips, but he didn't want her to feel like she had to prove anything to him. She owed him nothing. Nothing. But it didn't keep him from craving what he shouldn't. "Luxi..." "Shut up," she said. "This is my time." Then she slid down his body and sucked him between her lips, and the noise around his head drowned in a sea of pleasure. "Oh shit!" "Like this," Luxi whispered, her tongue caressing the swollen head of his cock. She cradled his balls in her left palm, her fingers gently massaging the base of his erection as her mouth trailed his length. Then she released him and said, "You deserve more than I can give you." Grayson blinked. "What?" "You do." No, no, that wasn't right. "Luxi—" Luxi grinned and winked at him, wrapping those luscious lips around his sensitive cockhead again, her hand moving 158
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gently against his sac, and thought left the building. Every stroke of her tongue was like a whispered admission to Paradise itself, burning him with pleasure so intent it was miraculous he didn't dissolve on the spot. Her hand shifted in easy seconds, fingers wrapping around his erection to pump him in time with the idyllic movements of her mouth. There was nothing she didn't explore. She pressed his cock to his stomach and lapped at his testicles, then skimmed the underside of his erection until her lips wrapped around the head again, humming around him. She touched him like she wanted to commit him to memory. Like this was all they'd have. All they'd know. The thought was enough to stir unrest, but he couldn't find his voice. He just hoped she'd trust him enough to let him show her he meant what he said. This was their beginning, not their end. If she thought he wouldn't fight to keep her, she was in for a surprise. [Back to Table of Contents]
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Chapter Eleven Shit, shit, shit, shit. She was so beyond screwed. The trip back to Springfield was wrought with uncomfortable silence interspersed with strained conversation, not to mention an inner war the likes of which she'd never experienced. Luxi had no idea how things had spiraled so wildly out of control, and empty promise to Grayson aside, she wasn't sure if she could face the next few weeks if he kept aiming hopeful glances her way. What she'd shared with Grayson had surpassed anything she'd felt since first embarking into the world with her mission. She'd entertained lovers who enjoyed feasting on a woman's pussy, but never with a touch indicating it meant more to the man than a quick roll in sack. The way Grayson had worshipped her with his mouth propelled her into foreign territory, and she hadn't known how to respond except to return the favor. The looks he gave her told her plainly they had only begun. How in the fuck was she supposed to handle this? Was she merely unversed in platonic relationships? Was that why she'd botched up Lucifer's orders so splendidly? Lucifer, who had issued the order that destroyed Grayson's marriage. In two thousand years, Luxi had not once had a job that directly correlated with a previous assignment. It could be coincidence—it likely was—but for the virtue that she had never had trouble following orders... 160
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Maybe Ava had affected her more than she bargained. Ava had freedom and love in her life. The true kind of love. Maybe seeing her with Dante had triggered a subconscious response in Luxi, a need to feel the same sort of bliss. Or maybe her original conjecture had been accurate. She was lust innate. Perhaps she couldn't turn it off, and Grayson's humanity kept him from realizing what he felt for her wasn't real. Luxi didn't know. The only thing she understood now was she was up a famous creek and had no means of finding her way to dry land. Even if Grayson's feelings were distorted beyond his control, it didn't change who he was at the core, and that was a person she had grown to like very much. A person who saw her despite her attempts to remain hidden. At any rate, Luxi was glad when Grayson dropped her off at her shithole apartment. She needed space from him—time to remember who she was, why she was here, and how quickly everything would be over. She just wished she'd gotten a second alone with Lucifer. He might have shed some light on this bizarre experiment. As it was, if something didn't start making sense soon, she'd have to schedule another meeting with the boss. Luxi had the horrible feeling she was starting to fall in love, and that was definitely a complication she didn't need. The most she could do was go to work and see this thing through. When it came to the end she would gather her bearings and move on. Therefore, when Luxi arrived at the campaign headquarters the next day she made a pointed attempt to 161
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avoid looking in the direction of Grayson's office, which turned out to not be much of a problem. Her attention was quickly claimed by the petite, skinny blonde sitting at her desk with an annoyingly bright smile plastered on her Barbieesque face. Luxi's brow furrowed. "Who the hell are you?" "Greetings," the blonde said in a perky, almost robotically cheerful voice. "My name is Cassie True. Are you Ms. Luxuria Daimon?" She stared. "Are you a singing telegram or something?" Cassie's annoyingly perfect smile spread wider, sending shivers across Luxi's skin and triggering her inner warning bell. The girl emitted no demonic energy stamp—the way the Sins detected unearthly creatures in their midst—but there was something ostensibly not right. An otherness she couldn't describe but knew not to question. "No," Cassie replied, her tone perplexed. "How does a telegram sing?" Mercifully, John appeared the next instant, his eyes wide and manic with the appearance of someone who hadn't slept in a week. "Oh, you're here," he said. "This is Cassie True. And no, it's not a stripper name. I already checked." Cassie nodded. "We have already become acquainted." "Yeah, whatever." John shook his head. "Listen, we got the rally in a couple days and about eighteen million things to get done between now and then, so whatever it is you need to do to get yourself motivated, do it now. Grayson chose a very bad time to have a midlife crisis, and for everyone he screwed 162
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over, I need to pick up the pieces. Cassie's gonna stick with you to try and get this done." "Ah, John," Luxi said. Whatever warm-fuzzies she'd initially experienced quickly evaporated. "I missed you. Did you miss me?" "Lady, by the grace of the sex-induced coma Grayson's in, you're not being shown the door. Don't push it." John paused, then flashed her a quick, almost amused grin. "Though you wouldn't be in the mood for a cigar, would you?" She smirked. "You'd just love to watch me suck it." "I believe he means cigar as a euphemism for male genitalia," Cassie supplied. "Thanks, Cass, but I think I could've worked that one out on my own." Luxi chuckled. Her gaze remained on John as he stalked off in a huff, murmuring irritably about crazy interns and how the universe had made him the punch-line without telling him the joke. Thus she was left alone with Cassie and a headful of conflict she couldn't rationalize. At least, she reasoned, the world had issued her something else to worry with aside from her turbulent feelings for Grayson. Cassie was most definitely a non-human whose origins were shaded and intentions were vague at best. Luxi didn't believe in coincidences, which made the blonde's sudden appearance very suspicious but, for the moment at least, nonthreatening enough for Luxi to not worry about showing the girl her back. Hopefully Cassie True would give her no reason to think otherwise. 163
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Grayson hadn't known it was possible to get closer to and farther from someone in the same step, but somehow he'd managed to do exactly that. It wasn't as though he hadn't seen it coming. Luxi wasn't one to go anywhere quietly, and for all the hell she raised at her sister's party, for all her obvious insecurities and presuppositions, she had surrendered with passionate fury he couldn't quite comprehend. What had happened afterward seemed hazy—a scene out of someone else's life—and for the distance to which he'd awakened the next morning, the whole encounter might as well have been imagined. She hadn't said much on the way home and he hadn't prompted her. Whatever bridges they'd crossed in Mississippi would remain crossed until they next spoke. It seemed reasonable Luxi wanted to maintain the professional veneer they'd briefly discussed while entangled in each other's arms. The campaign was nearly over and after the last ballot had been cast, they would be free to pursue whatever had blossomed between them without the lingering threat of public disgrace. His treacherous mind took him back to Maple Hill Inn. Luxi's mouth wrapped around his cock, sucking and teasing, pulling, stroking, dragging him down a path he'd ignored far too long. His tongue still tingled from the stolen licks of her pussy and his hungry mouth was more than ready for seconds. But damn it, he wasn't some prepubescent teen jerking off to a Victoria's Secret catalogue, and Luxi was anything but a quick fix. 164
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His office door closed. John stood on the other side, his eyes heavy and tired. "I'm not talking to you. Now sit down, shut up, and listen." Grayson rolled his eyes but didn't protest. Instead, he nodded and collapsed into his desk chair. "Hello to you too, John." "Let's get some things straight." John held up a hand and began counting off fingers. "I don't care if you had a good time. I don't care if you got laid. I don't care if you eloped. All I care about is this election ... and the rather disturbing lack of sanity you've exhibited in the last week, but hey. I'm just here to do the job you pay me for." "Who's the new girl?" "Cassie Ridiculous." John made a face. "I really think something out there is fucking with me. She's a new intern." "From Drury?" "Yeah. I didn't realize if I took a student from MSU, I had to take one from Drury, too." "Is that a thing?" John shook his head. "I don't know and I don't care. Just do me a favor and keep your dick in your pants around this one. She's already one twist short of a slinky, and I don't need her going around and talking about your genitalia." "What?" "Forget it. Senator Clark is concerned about security for the event, so we've scheduled a conference call on Thursday." Grayson sobered. "Have we received any more—" "Death threats?" "Yes." 165
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"No, but that doesn't mean anything." John sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, I want someone on you." "This is old news. I thought we were getting that Clinton guy." "He's on assignment." John growled, as though the cosmos had shifted specifically so his ideal bodyguard would be unavailable. "So we're gonna start interviewing candidates." "For the rally?" "For now until the election." "What?" "Well, your bout of stupidity reminded me how blind you can be. I don't like the idea of focusing specifically on the rally and leaving you vulnerable everywhere else. Until this guy's in handcuffs, we gotta presume he could be anywhere." Grayson frowned. "Maybe I'm just optimistic, but I've lived in this area all my life. We have some crazies, but assassination attempts just don't happen here." "Ask those blacks they lynched at the Square." "In 1906?" It was a stain on Springfield's history, no doubt, but over a century in the past. It seemed a strange point to bring up now. "Or the Springfield Three." Another seemingly unrelated crime. In the nineties, three women had disappeared without a trace. They were never found and no one was apprehended for the crime. Every now and then, Dateline would run a special and stir up chatter among locals. It had definitely taken everyone in the city by surprise, but hardly constituted a pattern. 166
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"There was that school teacher who fucked his students and killed his family, too," John pointed out. "He was acquitted." "Still." John grunted. To him, a man's guilt or innocence in familial homicide was incidental when testifying. "My point is crazy doesn't have an address. You can't adapt the it'll never happen here blinders because crazy happens everywhere. This whack-job isn't your typical batshit insane radical. You think Hinckley was all there upstairs? People get pissed at the government and they want someone to blame. People here don't like gays or women or minorities or anyone who's not them, and since you're running on a platform opposing their bigotry, you become the poster-boy of all things bad. It's not about the polls or the debates or anything aside from you being someone accessible that can be used to make a point." "You make Springfield sound like ... I dunno, something not Springfield. I'm not the only reasonable man in town." Grayson paused. "Heck, these past few years, this place has been a breeding ground for all kinds of more liberal ideas. Jackson Days—" "Is a convention that happens once a year that most of these jackasses know shit about." "It still happens here." John grumbled. "You want to get killed, don't you?" "What?" "I'm over here trying to save your life and you're off somewhere else. Just in case you didn't hear me the first time: no place is safe from crazy." John looked damn near manic, himself. Grayson opted not to point that out. "This 167
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guy?" his campaign manager continued. "The guy who sent you the bullet? He's the mayor of koo-koo town." "I don't think you'll find anyone here that disagrees with you." "Then why aren't you on board?" "With what? Not dying?" Grayson laughed shortly. "Sign me up for not dying." "Fine. Then I'm gonna get some burly guy named Scratch to cover your ass morning, noon and night." He quirked a grin. "Scratch?" "Yes." "I don't think a bodyguard is going to do much good." John shrugged. "Well, unless you can explain to me how getting one could hurt, you're gonna take it and like it." "Fine." "Fine." "Fine." "Fine." John sighed, his gaze at last breaking away. Though Grayson didn't follow his shift in focus, he found himself looking to Luxi too often through the day to question where John's mind had ventured. "And do me a favor," his friend added. "I think I know what's coming." "Please, for me, stay away from Luxi." "Look, John—" "I don't know what you see in her and I don't care. This whole thing happened at the shittiest of shitty times. I know you like her and I know in a perfect world this wouldn't be a thing, but this is not a perfect world." John steepled his hands 168
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together. "Do not, do not, do not give them any other leverage. You're already a liberal preacher who couldn't keep his family together." Heat flushed Grayson's cheeks. "Hey—" "That's not me talking, that's them. That's what they say. Throw in a Penthouse pinup and you throw yourself in line with that congressman who snapped pictures of his dick." John fell quiet, his chest heaving. He stared at Grayson for a long moment, then averted his gaze and sighed. "You like her, don't you?" "Yes," Grayson replied. "A lot." "Figures, huh? You finally look at a woman and she's ... her." "There's nothing wrong with Luxi." "Except her timing and her come-fuck-me attitude." In all honesty, Grayson knew the election was the driving force behind John's words and actions, behind the crazed desperation shining in his eyes, yet every slight against Luxi's character had him surging with the unnatural need to cause major violence. He'd never gotten himself into a tussle over a woman's honor, though for lack of opportunity rather than lack of conviction. Were it anyone but John, he likely would have landed himself with an assault charge by now. As it was, the most he could do was bear in mind John's words didn't match his intent, no matter how hostile or insulting. Also, he didn't think Luxi would be amused by an act of chivalry. She was the sort of woman who would take him through the ringer for assuming she needed defending. Maybe that was why he felt he loved her. 169
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Grayson frowned and shook his head, warning off the thought before it could make impact. The entire course of their extraordinarily brief relationship had been set on maximum speed since her gaze first roamed the contours of his body. Everything had spiraled completely out of the realm where control lived, and yet the more he protested the sentiment, the more adamant it became. Forcing, prodding, shoving its way front and center until the hard reality became too much to bear. He wasn't in love with Luxi. Not now, not yet. But he knew himself well enough to realize it was where he was headed if he didn't detour and quick. "We talked over the weekend," Grayson said. John's hands came up. "If you did anything else, I don't wanna know about it." "That's not... Look, we both know this is a bad idea right now." "Understatement." "But she wants to wait until after the election to see if whatever is between us is worth exploring." John blinked. "So you're ... you're not..." "Involved?" "Sleeping with her?" Grayson tensed, warding off a blush. "No more than you're sleeping with Nina." "Leave Nina out of this." "Then please stop talking about any part of my sex life." "Fair enough." John was quiet for a long beat. "In the meantime, this death threat business—" 170
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"I'll consent to a bodyguard." John smirked. "You were never getting out of it." "To be fair, I knew that." "Good. I'll start vetting candidates this afternoon. Kiss your alone-time goodbye." Grayson offered a thin smile. "I can hardly wait." Luxi's determination to avoid Grayson turned out to be in vain; he was virtually inaccessible all day, interviewing a number of potential bodyguards to keep his lickable ass protected between now and the election. It was for the best. Luxi certainly didn't need to add worrying over his safety to her concerns. She was already in a mess over the idea she might be breaking her number one rule and letting her heart do the talking. The rest of her attention was absorbed in Cassie—namely, keeping Cassie from noticing her cover story was under suspicion. The more time she spent with the girl, the more dead certain she became that something was seriously off. Likewise, the longer she went without determining what sort of creature she was dealing with, the more anxious she became. Hell demons emitted a strong energy signature the likes of which a Sin could feel from miles away. Mammon of the Binsfeld Brigade—a self-elected group of snide assholes who had pined for the Sins' job for years—had recently utilized his energy signature to lure Ava into the open so her powers could be tested. Hell demons were a different breed from earthbound demons. Most of the uglies that went bump in the night were wired completely neutral in the whole good versus 171
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bad debate, even if it didn't stop a good chunk from committing atrocities simply because they perceived themselves to be evil. Even still, neutral or not, Luxi always knew when one was near. Their vibes were unmistakable. Cassie radiated something, all right—something any creature from the pit would immediately identify as otherness, even if the source remained a mystery. Luxi had started entertaining a variety of nonsense possibilities, the most laughable of which had begun sounding more and more reasonable the more she considered it. Cassie didn't feel like anything here or below because she came from above. It was a ridiculous notion for many reasons. After all, Luxi had been around the block more than enough times to have already encountered every manner of creature Paradise had to throw at her. Seraphs, cherubs, archangels, dominions, guardians, watchers, and so and so forth—the holy staff was a tad difficult to avoid where she went. Yet for each angel she'd met, each sub-ranking of Big J's toadies, she'd never felt anything remotely similar to whatever force Cassie exuded. This was a creature of a different color, and Luxi was determined to figure her out. "Hey," Luxi said as Cassie began picking up her space at the end of the day. "You wanna let off some steam?" "Yes!" the girl responded brightly. "Very much so." She paused then, looking perplexed. "How exactly does one 'let off' steam?" 172
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"This might be a one-horse town, but Nina says they got a kickin' nightlife." When Cassie's confusion failed to clear, Luxi sighed and rolled her eyes. "You wanna go get a drink?" "A drink of what?" She laughed and shook her head. "You know what? It's better if you're surprised." "Oh yes," Cassie replied cheerfully. "I love surprises!" Thirty minutes later, sitting at the counter of the first downtown bar Luxi spotted, the surprise-loving mystery chick tossed back what had to be her first shot of whiskey and made a face and choked so hard she nearly toppled off her stool. "Alcohol!" "Yes," Luxi observed, raising her own shot in a toast. Cassie's hands curled around her throat, her eyes wide with shock and the sting of betrayal. "You fooled me into imbibing alcohol!" "Hey, you're the one who flashed her ID." "I did not expect such trickery." Luxi tossed back her shot and slammed the glass onto the counter. "In a fucking bar. Jesus, are you for real?" Cassie pursed her lips. "I am authentic, so yes." "This is how we bond. Gal pals. You wanted to come along. Figured you could handle your booze." The bartender, who had meandered away at some point during their trade, returned just in time to fill the lull of silence. "'Nother drink, sweet thing?"
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To Luxi's surprise, Cassie nodded and slid the shot glass across the counter. She choked again as she threw it back, but damn if she didn't take it like a trooper. "The room is fuzzy," she observed, then giggled loud enough to attract attention from a small table of hornylooking hicks. Granted, the mullet fan club had been eyeballing them since they walked through the door. "You're a real lightweight, aren't you?" Luxi drawled. "I's not sapposed ta drink." A real lightweight. "Yeah, well, when you have the wussiest hangover in the history of everything, don't come bitchin' to me. You ordered the damn shot." "He told me to be bad." Luxi perked up. "What?" Cassie giggled again, and were she not witnessing the whole thing, Luxi wouldn't have believed it. The only people who got drunk off two paltry shots were babies and people who had never touched liquor. Not that Luxi made a habit of getting infants inebriated, but in two thousand years she'd seen a whole hell of a lot. Another shot went down without so much as a gasp. The merciful thing would be to stop her, but Luxi was already this far in, and damn if this wasn't easier than she thought. "I don't know how to be bad," Cassie whined. "You show me, Luxi. Show me." "Yeah!" cried a drunken redneck. "You gals can be bad right here on this here table. We don't mind!" Luxi rolled her eyes and aimed a small energy bolt at one of his chair legs. He crashed loudly and his friends roared with 174
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delight. Thankfully the lot of them were too drunk to ask questions. "Who said you need to be bad?" she pressed. Cassie shook her head. "No. No. Can't say. It's a seeeeecret. Shhhh." "Cass—" "He be mad if I says something." "He doesn't have to know." "He knows. He always knows." Her brow furrowed. "Knows is a funny word, ya knows?" "Cassie—" "Knows, knows, knows, knows, knows—" "What is it I'm not supposed to know?" The bartender refilled Cassie's glass. It was gone the next instant. Luxi quirked a brow. "Getting a taste for it, are you?" She released another melodious laugh. "Alcohol is fun. And bad. He'll be so proud of me." "Cassie—" "How's I'm gonna be bad? I tell you." She grinned. "Like this. I be the baddest Virtue ever." Luxi blinked. "Virtue? Whoa, whoa, whoa, back up." "I don't wanna fall over." "A Virtue as in... As in... The Seven Virtues?" Cassie looked at her blankly, shrugged, and held up her glass for more. Virtue. Oh holy shit. This was a whole new thing. [Back to Table of Contents] 175
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Chapter Twelve Though her last conversation with Lucifer regarding the proper channels through which to contact him had left very little room for free interpretation, Luxi had a feeling this was one of those rare times in which Pixley's job was of lesser relevance than her news. It didn't seem to matter one way or another. As it was, Luxi could honestly give a crap whether or not the boss grew upset with her, as she still had a question or two, herself. Still, her sense of self-preservation and intrigue was greater than her frustrated anger; holding out on a development like a walking, talking, blonde and bubbly Virtue was likely grounds for another Whytecliff-like intervention ... and Ava's good fortune was something that likely did not transfer between siblings. Thus the devil stood in Luxi's rented living room, studying the unconscious blonde stretched on the sofa. "Curious," Lucifer murmured, crossing his arms and tilting his head. "She looks so lifelike." Luxi snickered. "That feeling won't last long. Wait until she wakes up. I don't think I've seen anyone get this drunk this fast." She sighed, glancing at Lucifer. "So ... good use of the 'go around Pixley' rule?" He arched a brow. "There is no good use of that rule." "Yet you have not chewed me a new asshole, so I'm gonna count that as a win." 176
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"My wrath is momentarily on hold on account of my utter bewilderment at your impromptu houseguest." Lucifer took a step forward and sighed. "He did it. The bastard really did it." "For what it's worth, I don't think the Virtues have been around all that long." "Is that so?" "She gave it up way too early. What she is." Lucifer smirked. "A lack of resolve does not necessarily signify inexperience, my dear. When Jev and I spoke after the ordeal with Avaritia, he indicated he had known about the Sins for quite some time. As far as we know, your friend here might be as old as you." "Well, she don't have game, that's for sure." Luxi sighed again and crossed her arms. "She said she needed me to tell her how to be bad. Or something." "Bad, you say?" "He needed her to be bad." Lucifer's brow furrowed, then he nodded as though understanding. If he had reached an epiphany, though, he kept it to himself. "Interesting." "Just interesting?" "Well, there are a variety of words I'm sure would fit this situation. That happens to be one of them." His focus shifted back to the sleeping blonde before he stepped forward and knelt beside the sofa. "As it is, I don't see the virtue in talking about her when we can speak with her, do you?" Luxi shook her head. "The 'virtue'? Really?" "You act as though you've never heard a pun before." Lucifer grinned, gaze still intent on Cassie. "All right," he 177
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murmured gently, his left hand hovering over her face. "Rise and shine." Luxi watched bemusedly as Cassie's eyes fluttered open with the same lazy disregard as any mortal would in climbing out of an inebriated slumber. With as quickly as the selfproclaimed Virtue had had rendered herself intoxicated, the hard lesson concerning the bitch of a hangover would likely be all she needed to swear off alcohol for the rest of eternity. As it was, Cassie barely had time to stretch when the realization of whose company she was in exploded across her face. She squeaked inelegantly and sat up, eyes wide and her small chest heaving gasps of air. "Oh sweet Beholder!" Lucifer grinned. "That answers my first question. You know who I am." Cassie nodded nervously, her focus shifting to Luxi. "You fooled me! I have never imbibed once in my whole existence! What is the meaning of this?" "Hey, sweetheart, I hardly shoved those drinks down that pretty little throat of yours." Luxi arched a brow. "Besides, you're supposed to be bad, aren't you?" "I am not wicked!" "Of course not, darling," Lucifer said sweetly, patting her head like she was a cherished pet. "I'm sure this is all a simple misunderstanding. Why don't we clear the air?" Cassie's brow furrowed and she again nodded nervously. "Okay." He nodded. "Okay. I assume you're acquainted with my friend, Luxuria." Luxi offered a little wave. "What up, girl?" 178
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"Yes," Cassie whispered loudly, her eyes large and fearful. "You were sent here on assignment, weren't you?" Lucifer said. "Can you tell me what the assignment is?" "My word is protected by his power," the blonde replied. "I do not have to forfeit anything." "Of course," Lucifer agreed before flashing her another winning smile. "But I tell you, Cassie, it would help me a great deal if you would." "Oh." "Yes." Luxi frowned. "Are you flirting with her?" Lucifer glanced at her. "Depends on whether or not she is receptive." "You are the devil," Cassie murmured, shrinking back again. "I go by many names," Lucifer replied. "And you are a Virtue." The blonde gasped and sat up. "Beholder! He will end me." "There is no cause to end you. As a matter of fact, Cassie dear, I will ensure once you leave this place, you won't remember our visit at all." Again the devil smiled, one of those eerily calm smiles Luxi had seen a thousand times but dreaded all the same. "It will be like it never took place." Cassie looked doubtful. "Never took place?" "That's right." "You can erase my memories?" Lucifer nodded. "Temporarily. I do not entertain the same powers as does our friend Jev." "The Almighty," Cassie corrected. 179
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"Of course." Luxi rolled her eyes. "Oh please." "Now, now, Luxuria. We must accept that all do not share our view." Lucifer tossed her a wink. "Remember, our friend Cassie joins us from a world altogether different from the one we know." "A world you chose to forsake," Cassie insisted. "Is that old story in circulation again? Every few hundred years or so and I am, again, forsaking the Creator. For as much as things change they stay the same." He sighed, the sound wistful. "We're not so different, Cassie. Both made with purpose, and yet look how far we've strayed." "We are very different, Mr. Devil. I would never renounce the Maker." "Which only goes to show you don't know him as well as I do." Cassie gasped. "Blasphemy!" "I've done worse," Lucifer deadpanned. "Now, dear, why don't you share your name? Your true name. And be sure to remember, I do have ways of learning information not freely given." The girl squeaked miserably and shot Luxi a quick, pleading look. When she received nothing in return, she expelled a deep breath and bowed her head. "My true name is Castitas, Virtue to the High Throne and—" "Chastity," Luxi murmured. "You're Chastity." Cassie licked her lips. "Yes."
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"The virginal Virtue." Lucifer arched a brow. "And your foil, Luxuria, if memory serves. Imagine ... abstinence and lust in the same room." "Because those two things never go hand in hand," Luxi drawled. "That still doesn't answer why you're here." "Or how long you have been in existence," Lucifer agreed. "We were created by the Almighty," the blonde supplied. "Yes, sweetheart, I understand that much. Have you been around for long?" Cassie nodded timidly. "We have existed as long as our enemy." "Your enemy?" She peered over his shoulder and met Luxi's gaze. "She is the enemy," the blonde whispered. "A greater enemy than I?" Lucifer had the audacity to pout, and Luxi found herself resisting the urge to smack him. It was likely not the best idea to strike the boss. "What a pity." "They were created and we with them, to stand in the way of evil's spread." Created with them? That didn't make any sense. To have been created alongside the Sins, Big J would have to have known they existed all along, and he hadn't. The Sins had been Hell's best kept secret. Only a handful of informants knew about them, and even fewer were privy to all the facts. Evidently, the devil thought the same. A frown marred his face. "You were created alongside my Sins?" "She can't mean that," Luxi said. "Big J—" "The Almighty," Cassie insisted. 181
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She snickered. "Look, honeypot, he ain't my mighty anything." "Deniers will one day know the Truth." "Keep talkin', sweetheart, and you'll soon know the truth of my motherfucking fist." Lucifer placed a hand on Luxi's shoulder. "Calm yourself. There's no need for violence." "What I wanna know is why the fuck she's here at all, or can you answer that?" "I am not her maker." The passive look on her boss's face served as the proverbial last straw. Luxi's patience was officially tapped, and by hell or high water, she would get her answers. Something hard pressed against her chest and at once a thousand things collided. Her ambiguous assignment, Lucifer's uncharacteristic silence on her role, her conflicting feelings for a man she couldn't have, the burn of confused betrayal concerning her part in Amily's departure, and now this—all twisted, tightened and exploded. The time for rationalizing everything away had ended and she needed her goddamn answers. She was through with the non-assignment that went against her core self, the mundane babysitting of a seemingly insignificant man in the middle of fuck-all nowhere. No more excuses. Not with Big J throwing in the gauntlet. However, attacking Lucifer, no matter how appealing the thought, would get her nowhere in the end except dead in the permanent no-afterlife sense. Thankfully, she maintained enough of herself to keep from beating the devil senseless— or as close to senseless as one would reasonably get before 182
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being vaporized. Instead, Luxi sucked in a breath and turned to Cassie. "Do you know what you're doing here?" Cassie blinked dumbly. "Pardon?" "Your boss, Big J—" "The Almighty." "Whatever. Did he tell you what to do? What your assignment was?" The girl frowned. "I ... I am to seduce the pastor." Well, aside from the fact that Luxi would rip her goddamn teeth out if she so much as looked at Grayson, at last they were getting somewhere. "You," she replied. "Big J sent Chastity to get into Grayson's pants." "I am to engage him in sexual intercourse, yes." "Luxuria," the devil murmured. She ignored him. "Why?" Cassie's frown deepened. "One does not ask why. When the Almighty commands, one merely follows." "Ah." Lucifer smiled wistfully. "To have such blind devotion." He caught Luxi in a pointed gaze, not looking away even as he lifted a hand and softly said, "Go to sleep, now, Cassie." "Okay." The blonde fell back against the sofa without a fight, her eyelids dropping. She was asleep by the time her head hit the cushion. "There," Lucifer said. "She will not recall anything come morning." Luxi folded her arms. "Neat trick. Gonna pull it on me, too?" "I'd hope you know better." 183
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"Yeah, well, I'd hope you wouldn't treat me like a freshman during rush week." She laughed and shook her head. "You know, fuck it. I think I've been a good sport. I went along with this idiot plan because hey, you've never steered me wrong, not even when no one would've blamed you for going the other way. That mess with Ava? I fucking begged you for her life and didn't think for a second you'd let her live, but somehow we all made it to the other side. Then you go all mid-eternity crisis on us and I end up shadowing this guy for no fucking reason other than it's what you told me to do." "That would have been enough once," Lucifer replied solemnly. "What is it? You think the others think you went soft? The Binsfeld Brigade has been gossiping up a storm—" He shrugged. "When do they not?" "Why Grayson?" "Why not Grayson?" Lucifer sighed. "Luxuria, if you're quite finished, I have an underworld to maintain." "You owe me answers." "Somehow I don't recall that being a part of our arrangement." His expression hardened dangerously, and were she not feeling desperately brave, Luxi might have entertained a rush of fear. As it was, she didn't blink. Neither did Lucifer. "You're here because I want you here, and last I checked I make the rules on pretty much everything concerning your existence. I have tolerated your temper and overlooked the fact that you like to forget yourself more often 184
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than not, but, my dear, I simply don't owe you an explanation." "So you're shutting me in the dark." "Sometimes the parent knows it's better for the child to reach the conclusion on her own." Luxi balled her hands into fists. "You're not my fucking father." "Careful. Your teenage angst showing." "Why Amily, then? At least answer me that." Lucifer tilted his head. "Pardon?" "You sent me here to fuck up Grayson's Hallmark marriage the first time around. I'm supposed to take on faith that has nothing to do with the reason I'm here now?" "Have you any reason aside from coincidence to believe your former assignment has anything to do with your current one?" She trembled hard and flexed her fingers, crackles of red energy spanning the space between her skin. "You know what? Forget it. I'm done." A frown depressed Lucifer's lips. "You're what?" "I'm done. I'm too fucking old for this mind-fuck bullshit. You played Ava like a goddamn fiddle, and I understood that. Fucked up as it was, I understood. Well, you and yours can kiss my ass. I'm done. Whatever it is you have in store for Grayson, you can count me the fuck out." Luxi looked to the ground, shaking so hard she was damn near sure she would crumble apart. From where this blind bravado had emerged, she didn't know—all she knew was the rush of freedom the words inspired, alongside the nosedive into pure, black fear. 185
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Yet she wouldn't retract, wouldn't apologize. Lucifer had an endgame in sight that he hadn't bothered to share with her, and while she might have overlooked it in the past, Grayson changed the game too much. She wouldn't do anything to hurt him beyond what she'd done already. She wouldn't help Lucifer win some pissing contest over Big J if it meant placing Grayson between them. It wasn't a game anymore. "Cassie won't remember a thing in the morning," said the devil. "You said that already." "I'm saying it again." Luxi shrugged. "Doesn't matter. Unless you have decided to wipe my mind too, I will remember. And I won't be a part of it." "You're serious," Lucifer said, his tone soft and dangerous. "You really mean to walk away now." "What? You need it in writing?" "Well, yes, among other things. But that part can wait. I sincerely hope you know what you're doing." Luxi swallowed, her shoulders tightening. She hoped the same, but she wouldn't say as much. "I won't be stupid enough to threaten you." "That's a relief." "But I will stand in the way of anything you do to make his life difficult between here and the campaign." Lucifer smirked. "You realize I can swat you out of existence anytime I like, right?" "Well, I'm just gonna have to hope you like me too much." Luxi turned on her heel and headed for the staircase. If she 186
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was extremely fortunate, she might be able to make it to her bedroom without falling apart. "Do what you want, Boss. Zap me. Destroy me. Make me human. Take away the cash, the condo, and the what-have-you—it doesn't matter to me. All that matters now is getting some shuteye, 'cause I gotta be at the office in the A.M." "Good luck, Luxuria." "Thanks." She was almost to the top of the staircase when he spoke again—the parting words of a roughened deity, and the last she'd hear under his employ. "I think you might just need it." [Back to Table of Contents]
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Chapter Thirteen Luxi awoke with a hole in her chest, sucking her into a void of uncertainty and regret. The feeling followed her to the shower, trailed her downstairs, and twisted her stomach into knots when her gaze landed on the vacant sofa. Cassie had found a way back to wherever Big J had placed her, and Lucifer was gone. Still, the fact she had awakened at all was definitely a check in the plus column. Lucifer hadn't decided to pull the cosmic plug on her ... though why was anyone's guess. Perhaps the boss was softer than any of them had imagined; after all, no one had thought for an instant Ava would live to see Hell's flames again, but not only was she alive and well, she had received one hell of a pension. Since Luxi had resigned her post—sans the paperwork, as indicated, which would come later—there was no need getting up and going to the campaign headquarters. Yet she was determined to see it through, if not for herself, then for Grayson. She wasn't ready to say goodbye, and though she didn't have the stipulations of Lucifer's orders around her neck any longer, she also wasn't ready to jump into anything without double-checking for booby traps. Sex was one thing. Sex was easy, sex was fun, sex was the domain in which she had the most control. However, Grayson wanted more than sex, and he'd made that perfectly clear over the last few days. And though the magnitude of what he offered seemed too storybook to carry any weight in 188
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the real world, he had infused her with enough hope to stick and around and see where the road took her. For the first time in centuries, Luxi felt brave enough to trust. Even if the first person she saw upon entering the headquarters was among the last she would expect. Standing beside her desk, facing the wall, wearing jeans and a leather biker jacket, was her brother. "Gula?" He turned around and flashed her a cocky grin. "At your service." At first she heard nothing except the strain of white noise. With his shaved head, wild smile, and careless attitude, he seemed wildly out of place in a way she would have once thought impossible. Suddenly, Luxi knew exactly why John had screamed at her that first day. If she'd looked as nearly out of her element as did Gula—who resembled a bounty hunter rather than a staff member—it was a wonder she was still here at all. Another beat passed before the pieces fell in place, and cool understanding washed her over. If Gula was here, it wasn't by choice. This stank of the meddlesome devil. Then it didn't matter why Gula was here or what his motives were; she just wanted him gone. "What's wrong?" Gula demanded. "Not happy to see me?" She would have responded had John not materialized that second. "Oh, good," he said, barely favoring Luxi with a glance. "You're here. This is Vic Mackey—" "Tony Gula," her brother corrected. 189
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"Whatever. You look like that guy on The Shield. Vic Mackey." Gula shrugged. "I get that a lot." "Right. And that's what I'm gonna call you, 'cause honestly, I don't have any more room in my head for new people's names." John sighed, his hands falling to his sides. "We have a lot going on today, which hinges on Senator Clark's arrival tomorrow. We're gonna go through a practice run of the rally—" "Why are you here?" Luxi asked, her gaze fixed on Gula. "Sorry?" "Mackey's Grayson's security detail," John supplied quickly. "Anyway, I need you to get on the phone with KW7 and make sure we have the hour." "KW7?" John sighed. "Okay, you do know what your job is, right?" "Look, I just need—" "They're the biggest local news station in town. Nina has whatever you need. All I need you to do is make sure they intend to follow up on their promise, which was to air the full rally from start to finish." He paused. "Next, you and Cassie are going to both campuses to hand out and pin up flyers." "'Kay." John nodded. "And that should keep you out of the building long enough to keep Grayson's eye on the ball until after we have ironed out the details and gone over security procedures at least seventeen times." "You got the hots for this guy?" Gula asked, probing her with his gaze. 190
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"John? Ew." John smiled dryly. "Thanks." "No," Gula clarified, "my guy. Grayson." At once, Luxi felt a kinship with every teenage girl who had sneaked in past curfew. "None of your fucking business," she snapped. Her brother laughed. "That's a yes." "That's a headache," John retorted. "Once you and Cassie are all finished, I'll find something else. This week's going to be a bitch, but we don't have the luxury of slowing down. It's crunch time." He paused, his attention directed to something across the room. "Okay, disperse. We gotta lot of shit to do and only a day in which to do it." The second he was gone, Luxi shot her brother a menacing glare and snarled, "Break room. Now." The break room was thankfully vacant, though people buzzed in and out so quickly she knew she had only a few minutes, if that. She just needed the low-down, and she needed it quick. Thankfully, Gula opted not to play dumb, instead following her with intent. As soon as the door closed behind them, the strand of patience to which Luxi had clung evaporated. "Tony? You're Tony?" He shrugged. "Gluttony. Get it? My idea. I figured they wouldn't figure Gula for my first name." Somehow, she remained unimpressed. "You wanna tell me what the fuck is going on here?"
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"I'd love to, just as soon as you tell me what the fuck you think you're doing," Gula replied. "Quitting on the job, Lux? Do you value your existence at all?" She spread her arms. "Still here, aren't I?" "Yeah, 'cause he thinks this is a bluff." "A bluff?" "You got nothing to hold you here, do you? You're pissed as fuck, I get that. But honestly, we all know you're gonna crawl back in a couple days." She narrowed her eyes. "We do, do we?" "You remember how many times Invi 'quit' in the 1600s?" Luxi scoffed, though there was little feeling behind it. Invi and Ira had both gone through a phase wherein they walked off the job, sworn sideways they would never return, only to come back a few days later as though nothing had transpired. Of all the Sins, Ava was the only one who had ever gotten past the initial resignation announcement and to the paperwork. Apparently, leaving Lucifer's employ required quite a few signatures. Perhaps Gula was here to ascertain whether Luxi was serious. After all, she hadn't pursued it beyond stating her intention. She would, though. As soon as this business with Grayson was over, she'd march into Lucifer's office and seal the deal. "So that's why you're here?" she asked. "To tell him how sorry I am for fucking everything up?" Gula frowned. "To keep an eye on you." "I don't need a fucking babysitter. Hell, I am the fucking babysitter." 192
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"For who? That Grayson guy?" "Lucifer tell you anything about my assignment?" Luxi sneered when he shook his head. "Figures. He sent me just to be here. Don't fuck him, don't fuck anyone, don't use my charm to make him want to fuck one of the barely legal pieces of ass that come through here on a daily basis. I was sent here to intern." "You aren't fucking him?" Luxi swallowed, her mind flashing back to the bed and breakfast; Grayson's head between her thighs, his lips pulling on her clit. "No," she said, the word strained. "I'm not fucking him." "But he came with you to Ava's thing." "Yes and—wait." She frowned. "He met you then." "Yeah." "So what? You show up for this job and he doesn't recognize you?" Gula shrugged. "Boss worked some mojo." "Of course he did." She sighed, her shoulders dropping. "This thing with Grayson ... it's complicated." "You've never used that word to describe a job before." Gula studied her for a long moment, then understanding dawned behind his eyes. "Holy shit, you're in love with the guy." Something strange happened at the mention of love; her chest tightened and her skin became tingly. Luxi shook it off best she could; she wasn't anywhere near prepared to assign her feelings any such sentiment. She cared about Grayson, sure, and felt a strange combination of anxiety and peace 193
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whenever they were together, but calling it love would change her world in far more significant ways than walking away from Lucifer ever could. "No," Luxi replied, ignoring how her voice shook. "Do me a favor, Gula? Stay the hell outta my way." "I'm here 'cause—" She held up a hand. "'Cause Lucifer thinks I need a sitter. We already went over this." "I'm beginning to agree with him." "Bully for you." Luxi shook her head and maneuvered her way to the door. "Don't think I'm being rude, but I got shit to do." "So do I, and my shit is covering your ass." Gula paused, grimacing. "Wait, that sounded wrong." She flipped him the bird, then strolled back into the office. He'd only known Tony Gula for ninety minutes, and already he couldn't stand the prick. Granted, at the start of the day, the guy seemed like the best fit for the job. What he lacked physically he more than made up in presence. And though Grayson understood the practicality of a bodyguard, the whole notion he was important enough for a political assassination remained a bit much to accept. It likewise didn't help matters that Gula's first order of business had been whisking Luxi into the break room. It could be innocent. Hell, from Luxi's expression upon storming back into the main room, she hadn't been impressed. Grayson stood at his office window, holding his breath and hoping she would pay him a visit before taking off 194
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with the new girl. She didn't. Ever since returning from Natchez, Luxi wanted nothing to do with him. What happened at Maple Hill Inn had her running scared. That much was obvious. She had fallen apart in his arms after he feasted on her pussy, and in turn gifted him with such extreme pleasure his bones rattled just thinking about it. Yet she'd barely looked at him the next morning, and had seemingly gone out of her way to avoid him in the thirty-six hours they'd been back in town. Grayson turned away from the window and looked up in time to meet John's gaze as he entered the room. "Where are you sending her?" "Her?" "Them," he corrected. For a moment, John looked like he might pick a fight, but ultimately let it go. "Campuses. Hand out fliers for the rally." "Okay." "We got an hour until the dry run." "Okay." John sighed. "You're not all here, are you?" "I don't like him." "Who?" "That bodyguard." "You liked him just fine this morning." John frowned before understanding touched his features. "It's her, isn't it?" "I don't like the way he looks at her." "How is it any different from how you look at her?" "I'm not a jackass." "And he is?" 195
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"Look at him." John tossed a glance to the office, then shrugged. "He's Vic Mackey." "I don't know what that means." "Yeah, okay. Look, you and Luxi decided to...I dunno, hold off on the whole career-ending affair until after the election." Grayson frowned. It had seemed like a good idea at the time; he now had the urge to find Luxi and drag her into the nearest dark room and mark her so thoroughly no man would sniff around her again. "Yeah, okay." "You know what we could be doing now?" "Not obsessing over my not-girlfriend?" "Working." "Yeah. Okay." John stared at him for a long moment, then shook his head and stalked out. The day dragged from hour to hour, not aided by multiple glances to his watch and eagerly looking up every time someone opened the front door. The dry run went off without a hitch, though John asked for several takes as Grayson's mind was most definitely somewhere else. He kept waiting for Luxi to return, and the longer she stayed away the more distracted he became. Also, though Grayson couldn't be sure, he was almost certain Tony Gula kept sending him pointed looks, like he knew what was going through his head and felt very amused by the fact. "All right." John groaned. He sat straddling a folding chair, his arms outstretched as though prepared to catch his head 196
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should it fall off in his frustration. "I'm gonna suggest something radical." "What's that?" "You need to fuck Luxi Daimon." Grayson's eyes bugged. "What?" "What?" Gula demanded. John shrugged. "Told you it was radical." "First off, don't talk about her like that," Grayson snarled. "And second ... what?" "You're anywhere but here," explained his campaign manager. "You keep looking around for her like some ... I dunno, lost puppy. You need to fuck her and get her out of your system." "You need to stop talking about her like that." John made a face. "Well, sorry, I don't know what else to call it." "This is coming from the man who went fifteen rounds on why I needed to fire her? How I would be throwing away my career? How she'd turn into a local joke?" Gula shot John a nasty glare. "Did you say those things?" "And you!" Grayson shouted, turning his attention to the bodyguard. "Why are you so fixated on Luxi?" "What do you mean?" "I mean you dragging her off into the break room five seconds after meeting her." John shrugged. "He probably wants in her pants, too." Gula's expression wavered between horror and disgust, effectively killing the notion he had any romantic aspirations 197
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toward the woman in question. Grayson would have been ashamed at his relief had he time to consider it. "Look," John said, raising his hands. "You and Luxi remains the worst of all bad ideas I've ever heard, but the girl has you in knots. There's no sense in me worrying about how she'd affect the election if you're not gonna show up at the rally in the first place." "Show up—" "I mean at the podium, Grayson. This is your last chance to seal it. We got Clark coming in to sway the undecideds, and from the peanut gallery it looks like you're phoning it in. I want to see my candidate there, not some robot knockoff." Gula laughed derisively. "So you're gonna send in Luxi to, what, take one for the team?" John paused, shooting the bodyguard a narrow look. "Aren't you people supposed to, I dunno, stand still and shut up?" "Answer the question," Grayson said. "Is that what this is to you? I'm in love with the woman, and you want me to use her to—" "What?" Gula demanded. John moaned, his eyes falling shut. "Holy fuck, this is not happening to me. Do you not hear yourself? You've known her for five minutes!" "You're in love with her?" Gula asked. "I don't know what I am," Grayson retorted, a long sigh heaving off his shoulders. It was the truth, though for the second time in a twenty-four-hour period, the word love had surfaced, and like before, it had him considering things he 198
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hadn't considered since Amily said goodbye. Love still felt like jumping the gun—a day couldn't change much—but it was coming. And fast. "Yeah." John drew out the word. "Go. Get laid." "John—" "Go. Get. Laid." He raised his head and glanced to the front door. "Now." Grayson followed his gaze, watching Luxi as she made her way to her desk. Of course she would return now that he wasn't looking for her. "Go," John said again. "Get outta here." "You know you make no sense." He shrugged. "I'm a politician." "So am I." "Not until you compromise your values." John waved at Luxi. "Please, before I come to my senses and chain you to your desk, take her and leave. Go to dinner. Go to a movie. Go to a motel. Go somewhere, but just go with her. I don't want you this distracted tomorrow." "John—" "Go." Grayson sighed, pinching the space between his eyes. "What about Mr. Gula?" "I'll stay in my car." Gula stepped forward, hooking his thumbs through his belt loops. "Make sure no one tries to take you out at a ... let's just say, crucial moment." For whatever reason, the idea of a burly stranger trailing after him while he tried to get lucky didn't bother him. Instead, Grayson's heart had started thundering as his 199
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campaign manager's suggestion settled and became something real. John's bizarre endorsement notwithstanding, a night with Luxi, be it making love or simply watching the evening news, sounded downright heavenly. "Okay," Grayson said, a rush of excitement shooting down his spine. "If you'll excuse me, I've gotta go see about a girl." Luxi had worried entertaining Cassie the whole day, who remembered nothing of the night before, would prove difficult, especially knowing why she was there. As it was, she was just glad to get the Cassie as far from Grayson as possible ... and that Virtues were gullible enough to believe the best cure for a hangover was a bottle of Jack Daniels. By the time they'd arrived on campus, the poor blonde had been so sloshed she'd magicked her way home without so much as an adios. For her part, Luxi had smirked, shrugged, and gone on with business. Perhaps if Cassie hadn't confessed her assignment was to seduce the man Luxi might love, she would have been kinder. Perhaps. "Hey." Luxi jumped and turned. "Oh shit, don't do that to me!" Grayson frowned. "Say hey?" "Indicate you're there next time." "Silly me. I thought 'hey' would cover it." He grinned. "Have fun with ... what's her name?" "Cassie?" "Yeah." Luxi nodded. "Yeah. She—ah, got a headache. I...called her a taxi." 200
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"That was nice." "Yeah." She pursed her lips and glanced down, suddenly remembering they hadn't spoken in over a day, and hadn't said anything substantial since Ava's reception. So much had happened in a short time span. The ground on which she stood was now her permanent home, she had walked out on Lucifer, learned Virtues existed, and discovered she might be more open to love than she ever thought possible. "You wanna get out of here?" Grayson asked suddenly. "What?" "You've been out all day, and we should probably ... talk. About stuff." She counted her blessings he sounded as nervous and uncertain as she felt. At last they seemed to be in the same place. "Stuff," she repeated. "Yeah." "What about John?" Grayson frowned. "I didn't invite him." "No, I mean—won't he throw one of his award-winning hissies if you take off now?" "Actually, it was his idea." Luxi favored him with a narrow look. "Yeah. Pull the other one." "He has tunnel vision when it comes to the campaign," he explained. "Now, since I can't focus on work because of you, he thinks I need to spend time with you in order to focus." "You can't focus on work?" "Did I say that out loud?" 201
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"Little bit." She arched an eyebrow. "I'm beginning to think your motives aren't exactly on the up and up." "I'm a preacher," Grayson retorted. "If you can't trust me, who can you trust?" "You really want me to answer that?" "Not exactly, no." He paused. "I promise I won't put one finger out of line." "Good." She grinned, taking a step forward. At once she felt braver than she had in the whole of her existence, even though she stood at the edge of a cliff and refused to look down. The fall might be worth it. "'Cause if you do, I might just have to break it off." The doorknob kept grinding into her backside, but fuck if she cared. With Grayson's mouth mauling hers, his hands roaming, touching, searching for any inch of flesh he could grasp, any other sensation failed to register. Luxi didn't even know how she'd gotten here. Dinner first, then a car ride somewhere, and now... "Oh god," she gasped when their lips parted, funneling her fingers through his hair. "What—" "Keys." "What?" Grayson pulled back enough to reach into his pocket. "Gotta get the keys." "Where are we?" He favored her with a roguish grin that had her legs trembling and her pussy drenched. "My place," he replied, nipping at her lips. "Your suggestion." "It was?" 202
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"I wanted to be a gentleman, but you insisted, and I know better than to refuse a lady." Luxi raked her nails down his cheek. "I'm not a fucking lady." "Not tonight." "Not ever." "My kinda woman." The door behind her disappeared and suddenly they were moving back, fumbling over the threshold... And tripping over the naked blonde on the floor. [Back to Table of Contents]
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Chapter Fourteen The shock of discovering Cassie sleeping naked in the middle of his foyer waned just long enough for Luxi to release a shrill, awkward laugh. Grayson wasn't sure what happened—he'd heard of people having out of body experiences, but he hadn't understood the full meaning until now. Until the panic of Luxi discovering a different woman in his house settled to bewilderment to a need to get her out before everything fell apart. Before Luxi changed her mind and walked out the door. "Upstairs?" Luxi asked. "Yes," Grayson responded, his shoulders dropping in relief. "Let's go upstairs. Now, before she wakes up." Luxi grinned, her teeth doing things to her lower lip that ought to be illegal in forty-nine states. "One-track mind, much?" "Give a guy some credit. I've waited this long." "You realize we're talking days, right?" "Feels longer." She laughed and shook her head. "Are you a professional mood killer?" "Believe it or not, not normally." "Do you have an extra room where she can sleep it off?" Grayson's throat tightened. "Extra room?" The look she gave him went straight to his cock. "Here I was thinking yours might be ... ahhh, occupied." "You're not leaving?" he asked. 204
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Luxi grinned and stepped forward. "Not unless you're kicking me out." "No!" Grayson said hurriedly, nearly tripping over himself to close the space between them. "Of course not. I just ... ahhh, you know what? Don't listen to me. No matter what I say. Let's go upstairs—" "What about Cassie?" He glanced to the naked blonde again, his mind pulling itself in at least eighty different directions. The normal questions seemed out of reach now—things he knew he should ask but didn't for need of something he wasn't sure he could keep once he touched. Obviously, Cassie was a problem. He hadn't spoken but two words to the intern and she had somehow interpreted that as an invitation to a slumber party, clothing optional. Whatever had happened to rational thought? What happened to concern over his job, or ambition for the campaign, or any of the thousand things that had been important to him two weeks ago? "You know when I said she had a headache? It wasn't so much that as it was the fact she got drunk." Luxi nodded to Cassie. "Really drunk." "Drunk?" "Well, last night. We went out after quittin' time and the little thing doesn't know how to hold her liquor." "So she's still drunk?" Luxi nodded again. "And she told me she had a crush on you, so ... guess she came here. Though how she knew your address..." 205
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"Probably through the campaign." He paused. "So she got drunk and decided to seduce me?" "So it would seem." "Guess... I guess these things happen. They just never happen to me." "You've never been seduced before?" Grayson shook his head. "Not to the point of my house being broken into and someone crashing on my floor." "That part doesn't happen all that much, though maybe more than you think." "The crashing on my floor part?" "The nakedly crashing on your floor part," Luxi amended. "Of course," Grayson said. "Any seduction requires nudity." That wicked grin fell back in place, and before he could blink, Luxi had stripped off her top and tossed it on the ground, leaving her a vision of perfect milky skin, her breasts hugged by a lacy black bra. Then she raised her fingers to the front clasp of her lingerie, rendering her a topless vision in his foyer. Times like this he reverted to the most primitive version of man. Luxi was breathtaking. Venus herself standing before him, her generous breasts full, making his hands twitch with the need to touch her all over. Feel her nipples between his fingers and the swell of her flesh against his palm. Her midnight-black hair ran over her shoulder like a waterfall, and all the while her eyes remained on him. Every nerve in his body was wound tight, his cock painfully hard, and though he knew there were things to do— unexpected things, but things nonetheless—responsibility fell 206
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aside for instinct, and he wanted her now. Hard, fast, against whatever surface he could find, her pussy around him, drenching him, squeezing him into new life. Nothing else mattered in that moment—just the promise of her skin, her mouth, her body tangled in his as she introduced him to new levels of bliss. "Your bedroom upstairs?" Luxi whispered. "Y-yes." He cleared his throat. "Second door on the right." "Well," she said, "why don't you find a place for Ms. True ... that is, if you can resist her." Grayson's gaze had fallen to Luxi's breasts again. No straight man could oppose a topless woman promising sex. He thought himself above it on most days, whereas other days served as a reminder he hadn't evolved all that much. "What do you say?" Luxi asked. "Need a trail of breadcrumbs to find your way?" "Oh no. I'll find you." She smirked, her hands going to her slacks. "You'd better." And then she was off, sashaying up the stairs and kicking off clothes as she went. It took tripping over Cassie again to keep from fumbling after her. Luxi settled on the floor beside the bed, sitting nude on her knees with her legs spread and her arms locked behind her. She had lost count over how many times she'd stripped for a lover and driven them mad with desire until there was nothing left but the burn. Still, it didn't account for the way her heart hammered, or how every time something creaked below she held her breath in anticipation of Grayson's arrival. Not even Cassie, the poor drunken Virtue, could diminish her 207
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spirits. Whatever Big J had planned in sending a novice into the arena was beside the point. As it was, it didn't seem to matter. Nothing mattered but the immediacy of the moment. Luxi was free. For the first time, her actions were her own. No more pussyfooting around whatever game Lucifer had devised, no more ambiguity, no more taking orders with a smile. She wanted, so she took. And she wanted Grayson. Yesterday, right now, and tomorrow. Experience told her nothing could ever be so simple, but for the first time looking ahead seemed counterproductive. Humans lived like this dayto-day, didn't they? Leap in without testing the water, act without considering what a new day might bring. Tomorrow could wait. "Not looking, not looking!" shouted Grayson, followed by his heavy footsteps as he clamored past the bedroom. "You didn't seem to have a problem a minute ago," Luxi called, stifling a laugh. "If I look, I'll drop her, and I think that might be enough to wake her up and spoil the mood." "This is you keeping the mood?" When he answered, his voice was muffled; she guessed he had disappeared into one of the guestrooms to make the unwelcome lodger comfortable. "No. I'm not usually this charming." Her chest tightened, small pressure points tickling her insides with a strange sensation she could only identify as adoration. Damn, did the man have to be so cute all the time? And since when did she value cuteness? 208
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The thought fell away when Grayson materialized in the doorway. The humor in his eyes faded almost instantly, replaced by a wealth of shock and wonder and accented with a slow-burning heat. His fingers, which had been poised at his shirt buttons, stiffened. All of him did. "Luxi," he whispered hoarsely. "See anything you like?" "You ... you look..." "Naked?" "No. Well, yes. I mean, of course, yes, but..." Grayson wet his lips and shook his head, then resumed work on his shirt buttons. In seconds he was bare from the waist up and tripping over himself to wiggle out of his shoes. "You're ... you're stunning." Luxi smirked and thrust her breasts forward. "What are you gonna do about it?" His mouth opened and closed several times as though weighing the options. "Here," she said, straightening her posture and crooking a finger at him, beckoning him forward. "Why don't you let me take care of it for you?" Grayson obeyed as though hypnotized, sitting before her on the mattress. He hadn't made much headway with his trousers, but she didn't mind lending him a hand. Unwrapping the present was half the fun. "Someone's happy to see me," Luxi murmured, her hand falling to his erection. "He's always happy to see you." "And you played it so cool when we first met." 209
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Grayson shook his head, his gaze never leaving hers. "No, I didn't. I haven't played anything remotely cool since you came into my life." "You're welcome." "I'm serious, Luxi ... everything that's happened ... everything we..." He looked away, shuddering hard. "I know it's crazy and I know it doesn't make sense, but I'm so far from caring it would scare me if you weren't at the end of the tunnel." He paused. "You are at the end of the tunnel, aren't you?" Luxi shrugged, popping open the button at his fly. "I'm wherever you need me." "I know we're supposed to go slow—" "That," she said meaningfully, dragging the zipper down, "was the old plan." "The old plan?" "Mhmm." She smiled softly, rubbing him through his boxer shorts before seeking the opening slit, freeing his cock at last. During their night in Natchez—which seemed years in the past—she hadn't allowed herself to look at him as she would have liked. She'd been jacked on uncertainty about the future and confusion regarding her role in any of this: in Amily's departure, in Grayson's campaign, in this post-modern world where Sins could actually resign their post without looking back. That was then, though, and the rules had changed. Years back, she had told Ava once you saw one penis, you'd seen them all. More or less, Luxi stood by her assessment. There wasn't much variation across the board, 210
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apart from length, width and curve. The same went for the female anatomy, now that she thought about it, though women weren't as likely to strut because they were proud of their vagina. Like all else, Grayson seemed determined to break the rules. Whereas Luxi had never considered a man more than large or small anatomically, she was astonished to discover Grayson was beautiful. He was long and thick, but not outrageously so—not in the fashion of Hell's demons, and nothing so large a regular girl would have a heart attack at the sight. No, he was more than that; he was real. Human. And he was with her because he wanted to be, and there was no reason for her to kneel before him aside from the fact she wanted him, too. "Luxi..." She wrapped her left hand around him, squeezing him tenderly. "Maybe stop with the talking." "Okay." Her lips touched his cockhead, parted slightly, then tenderly drew it into her mouth. Grayson hissed and cupped her cheek. He looked briefly as though he might speak but shook it off the next second. Luxi winked at him, rewarding his obedience with a long, sultry lick. Good boy. Just sit back and enjoy. The last time she'd had him like this, it had been fervent and rushed. Guilty and desperate—something she knew she shouldn't take but couldn't keep from touching. Everything felt different now. The way his fingers stroked her cheek, the way he burned her 211
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with his gaze, the hot little trembles tearing through his body—she found her new addiction, and relished in it. Luxi planted a series of soft kisses around the head of his cock, squeezing his length with her left hand as her right dropped to fondle his testicles. He tasted warm and masculine, fragranced with the hint of musk and flesh and all things that made him Grayson. She went through phases when it came to various sex acts, as well as her level of enjoyment in them. After so many years, the same tired antics became dull and lost all sense of fun. Of course, that loop would end and she'd emerge from a dry-spell amped and ready for action. She took her pleasures while making sure others had theirs, and while she enjoyed leading men by their dicks, sucking on them had never been one of her favorite activities. Not until now, at least. Not until watching Grayson's face, the look of pained pleasure flashing across his eyes as she took him in deeper, as her hand tightened around him, pumping his shaft in rhythm with her mouth's movements. And fuck, if being good got her this far, she'd never be bad again. Her clit ached for attention but she ignored it, instead applying all her focus to the man at her mercy. Luxi sampled the underside of his cock with her tongue, swirled circles around it, rolled her lips over her teeth and applied tender pressure to the bell-shaped head. She licked, sucked, pulled and squeezed him as tight as she dared, determined to drive him out of his mind, as he had already driven her out of hers. "Oh shit," Grayson said sharply, lifting his hips off the mattress. "That..." 212
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She released him with a loud smack. "Remember the rule." "No talking?" Luxi nodded, tightening her hand around his cock. She drew him back into her mouth before he could utter another word, taking him in deep. She'd learned many tricks over the centuries but none of them seemed good enough for Grayson. He was more than a means to an end or another in a long line of conquests; he was her hope for something greater than herself. He had nearly convinced her love wasn't something singular to a select few, rather something she could one day touch. Tricks didn't matter, so she didn't play any. She just did what felt right. She loved and caressed, traced the veins along his prick with her tongue as the hand at his balls stroked and massaged. She bobbed her head, applying pressure to the tip of his cock every time it reached her lips. When she drew him in deep enough, she swallowed against him, enjoying the shudders that ran through his body. He grew hot and tense under her fingers, his prick hardening with every swipe of her tongue. Grayson's hand abandoned her cheek; his fingers were now in her hair, but the grip wasn't demanding. Rather, it was as though he couldn't bear not to touch her, but didn't know what to hold. And every gasp he surrendered fed her own fire. She didn't think she'd ever been so wet, so ready, so desperate to feel a man inside her. "Oh god, Luxi—" She shook her head. "Sweetheart, please—ahhh..." 213
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Don't fight it. Grayson didn't have the chance. He sucked in a deep breath and arched off the mattress, and the salty taste of semen hit her tongue. She held and swallowed obediently, stroking him with encouragement as he trembled and moaned, and surrendered without further fight. And fuck, if he wasn't gorgeous. Luxi had never seen a man so perfect. Perhaps she hadn't been looking, but somehow that didn't seem right. It felt as though every step she'd taken in the whole of her existence had somehow led her to this—to now— to him. "Oh god," Grayson moaned again as his spent cock slipped out of her mouth. "I ... I didn't want ... to come." "Sorry to disappoint," she replied cheekily, pressing a loving kiss against his penis. "Don't ever think that. Not disappointed. I just... I wanted..." "Inside me?" He shivered and nodded. "Yeah. Give me a few and I'll—" Luxi cocked an eyebrow and blew a stream of cool air against his skin, and almost instantly his erection was back, full and proud. Being a creature of lust had its advantages. Namely, there was no such thing as waiting if she wanted to ride. Grayson's eyes widened. "Seems you have the magic touch." She grinned. "The devil made me do it." "If I were any other man, I'd thank him." "Meh," Luxi said with a shrug. "That'd just go to his head." 214
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Then she was up and on him, falling with him back onto the bed and wrangling hot, needy kisses off his lips. Luxi hooked a leg over his hips, perching herself above him and rubbing her wet flesh against his swollen cock. Her muscles tightened in anticipation. "You're so pretty," she said. Grayson gazed at her adoringly. "Think that's my line." "You are. You're a fucking gorgeous man." To her amazement, his cheeks turned bright red. "Thank you." Grayson's hands scaled up her sides until he had her breasts cradled against each palm, his fingers pulling sweetly on her nipples. "There aren't words," he continued, "to capture how beautiful you are." Luxi reached between them and poised his cock at her entrance. "Flattery will get you everywhere." "Luxi, wait." She pouted, rotating her hips. "I don't wanna." "Well—we ... protection?" This question always threw her off guard. While the men she'd seduced prior to the modern age of birth control hadn't wanted their bastard children growing in her belly—not that they could—most hadn't cared much about what happened to her as long as they got their happy ending. "I'm clean," she whispered. Well, she couldn't contract disease. In this instance, small silver lies worked toward the truth—the truth would just take too much time and too much disbelief suspension, to explain. "And on the pill." "Me too." "You're on the pill?" 215
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He grinned. "I'm clean. Do you trust me?" "Yes." The word escaped her before she could evaluate the question and truly consider its implications, because as far as health and maternity went, it didn't matter whether or not he lied through his teeth. And yet, the normal strained acceptance of whatever her male lover told her to get her legs parted hadn't occurred to her. Instead, she said yes. She trusted him. She trusted him not to hurt her. "Oh shit," Luxi swore. Grayson's eyes widened. "What?" "I do. I really do trust you." She wet her lips and shook her head in wonder. "That's a first." His expression softened. "Oh, Luxi," he murmured, slowly encouraging her down, his cock slipping inside her hot pussy, sinking in until they were nose-to-nose, his breaths stroking her lips. Grayson squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw. "You feel..." "Do you trust me?" It was suddenly important. No one, aside from Ava, had ever trusted her completely. It had never been significant to her before—attaining the faith of a lover. She hadn't realized what it meant. Grayson nodded, gripping her hips and lifting her off his lap, his flesh pulling against hers. God, had a man ever felt so good? "Luxi..." "You want it hard and fast?" "I just want you." She ran her teeth over her lower lip and placed her hands on his shoulders, directing him back to the mattress and 216
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pulling herself upright on his cock. Most men enjoyed when she whispered dirty little nothings to them, but silence seemed more intimate with Grayson. She bit her tongue then, and instead focused on him. On the look on his face every time she sank down. On the way his eyes fought to remain locked on hers. How he gasped and sighed, bucked and thrust and demanded more of her every time she pulled away. "Touch me," she whispered. His hand immediately went to her clit, fingers gently strumming her slippery pearl. Sparks of white-hot pleasure singed her insides, building, mounting, driving her faster and faster. He felt unlike anything she'd experienced. Hot and hard and, above all, hers. All at once, she was alert to things she'd either forgotten or never noticed before. How right the smack of their flesh sounded in the air, how it worked in harmony with her soft mewls and his deep moans. The springs whining beneath their weight kept in tempo. They were the conductors of their own symphony, thrusting, plunging, driving, over and over. "Beautiful." Luxi opened her eyes, unaware she had closed them. Grayson's gaze was fixed between them, watching his cock disappear inside her cunt. She grinned and leaned back, sweat clinging to her skin. "You have to see this," Grayson murmured. In a flash, he had lifted her off his lap and turned. Her eyes met her reflection in the mirror that doubled as closet doors. He guided her over him again, this time reversed so she sat 217
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facing herself, watching his cock slide in and out of her slick hole. And he was right; they were beautiful. They were more than beautiful. "Oh yes," Grayson murmured, reaching around her to find her clit again. "You're amazing." "Good?" "There aren't words for this." She watched his length, slippery from her juices, stretch inside her again and again. Harder, faster, his thrusts coming intensely now—desperate, like he thought she'd melt away and he needed to get as much of her as she'd give. She didn't like that she wasn't facing him, though that had likewise never before been a problem, but the sight of their bodies merging was too sweet to compromise. She watched as he massaged her clit, watched her own expression contort with pleasure. Watched the woman whose face she knew so well transform into someone even she didn't recognize. Pleasure was one thing, but she saw something else in her eyes. Something she'd seen in Ava's ever since the showdown at Whytecliff. She saw love. "Need to see you," Grayson murmured. And before she knew it, Luxi was on her back and he was over her, thrusting hard and deep into her body, his eyes boring into hers. Her legs hooked around his waist, clinging in desperation. Their fingers fought for the right to her clit, now, and she felt it building, mounting. Felt herself tightening around his cock with every plunge. 218
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Luxi wasn't a bottom kind of girl—she didn't like yielding control. But here, trapped under the power of his gaze, her body surrendering to pleasure, nothing else mattered. "Oh fuck," she gasped, her inner muscles tightening with each plunge in an attempt to lock him inside her. "Oh fucking fuck." "Luxi..." Grayson's lips brushed her brow tenderly, and she spasmed, clenching his cock and coming hard, falling through an array of warmth and joy, fear and need. Tears spilled down her cheeks, and when he joined her over the edge, she knew she had found herself. He held onto her tightly. "I love you. I love you." Then she wept in earnest, for she knew he did. [Back to Table of Contents]
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Chapter Fifteen Grayson fully expected to wake up alone, the previous night having been either a fantastically graphic dream or— more probably—too intense to coax Luxi to stay. She spooked easy when it came to anything more than sex, and since he'd been dumb enough to blurt he was in love with her—not once, not twice, but five times between periods of sleep and lovemaking—he wouldn't blame her. Everything had happened fast, completely different from what he'd experienced with Amily. Their courtship had been long and sweet, not hard and intense. Grayson had choked back his love confession for months out of uncertainty as to whether or not it was real, and fear of what came next. With Luxi, nothing remained inside. She inspired the worst case of verbal diarrhea he'd ever suffered, and he didn't know if there was a cure. He'd crossed the point of the no return without acknowledging the rest stop, without thinking of slowing down. Now she wielded enough power to destroy him, and while he'd managed to find his way back to even ground after Amily's departure, something told him there was no coming back from losing Luxi. Yet when he opened his eyes, Luxi lay beside him, halfwrapped in his creamy white sheets. One plump, perfect breast sat exposed to his grateful eyes, as was the curve of her hip and a smooth, firm leg. Watching her sleep felt more intimate than being inside her; right now she was wholly 220
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vulnerable. No sassy smirk, guarded looks, or barbed comments. She looked peaceful and calm, and more beautiful than he thought possible. Then, without opening her eyes, she spoke. "You're staring." Luxi's lips curved into a grin. Grayson blinked. "That's amazing." "Not really. It doesn't take much to stare." "How'd you know I was staring?" "It's a gift." "Well, you can't blame me," he reasoned. "You're still here." "So are you." She stretched and looked at him. "Yet I remain unamazed." "Yes, well, my being here is less impressive." "Why?" "It's my house." Luxi batted a hand, sitting up with a yawn. "Semantics. What time is it?" Grayson eyed the clock on his nightstand with a wince. "Almost seven-thirty. We're gonna be late." She shrugged. "I might play hooky today." "That's not very responsible of you." "Neither was that thing you did with your tongue last night, but I forgive you." "What will your boss think?" "I hope he rides me hard for insubordination." She grinned and threw her head back, then stilled thoughtfully. "Did you mean it?" 221
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It wasn't difficult determining her meaning. The look she'd given him each time his confession of love had spilled from his lips had been open and wondrous, as though she'd never heard the words before, or never had cause to believe them. The fact she asked at all whether he was serious, whereas the Luxi he knew before would have told him outright he didn't mean it, proved to him something significant had changed for them both. "Yes," Grayson said hoarsely. "I didn't... I didn't know I meant it until I said it, but I do." She bit her lower lip, looking both shy and seductive. "Mmm. I think that earns you a special round of morning sex." "Morning sex?" Luxi nodded, casting the sheet off her body. She stole a kiss from his lips and saddled his hips. "Special sex." "How is that different from other sex?" "Watch the way the light strikes me and find out." He did. And even though the blinds were mostly shut, the way the few rays of sun splashed against her skin made him feel as though he was in someone else's life. "I like morning sex," he decided. "And here I thought a cutie like you would've experienced it before." "I have; it was just so long ago I forgot what it was called." "Pity." Her hand circled his penis, pulling in slow, deliberate strokes. Immediately, every nerve in his body went on alert. "Let me remind you how it goes." "Luxi ... ahhh ... office. I need to get up." 222
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She giggled and squeezed him, and like last night, his cock stood fully erect without further hesitation. How she did that, he didn't know; it made it very difficult to remember what he had started to say. "You're up all right," she said with a grin. Then her soft, juicy pussy lips were rubbing against him, drenching him, teasing him, welcoming him into the soft, perfect sheath of her body, and swallowing him whole as she took him inside. "Ahhh, shit!" Grayson gasped, his head flying to the pillow. He gripped her hips, angling himself inside her as she began to move. "I'm... I'm gonna..." Luxi perked a brow. "Already?" "Be late." "Oh." She shrugged, gyrating her hips. "I'll write you a note." "Y-you will?" She nodded and stretched over him. "You preacher types keep notepads beside the bed, don't you? Sermon ideas?" Grayson struggled to remember firstly that he was a preacher and secondly if she was correct. Then he nodded. "I ... ahhh..." "Good." Somehow, though it didn't seem physically possible, Luxi reached into the nightstand and retrieved both his stationary and a pen without dislodging their connected bodies. "All right. 'To Whom It May Concern...'" How she kept a level head while dancing on his cock, he didn't know, nor did he care at the moment. She was a vision—the most glorious creature he'd seen or would ever see. Long hair flowing, breasts bouncing, face tight with both 223
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concentration and pleasure. He wanted to touch her everywhere and never stop, wanted to run his tongue over every succulent inch of flesh until he knew how she tasted head to toe. He wanted her—pure and simple—and now that he knew he loved her, he would stop at nothing to make her his. "'Please excuse Grayson's absence from first period on account of fornication,'" she continued. "'His dick was trapped in my snatch, and I was unwilling to let it go until I was thoroughly satisfied. Sincerely, Luxi Daimon, Adulterer and Bad Influence Extraordinaire.'" Luxi smirked and cast the pad and pen aside, her hands finding his shoulders. "How's that?" "Perfect." He bucked wildly off the mattress, desperate to keep himself inside her every time she pulled away. "So perfect." "Good. Though I figure John would resign if you gave it him." "This was his idea, actually." "Morning sex?" "You. Me. Last night. I couldn't ... ahhh, concentrate at work. I needed to get you off my mind." "I knew that part," Luxi said. "But I just thought it was just to spend time with me. Now you're saying he actually signed your permission slip for getting low down and dirty?" "Something ... god ... like that." "To get your mind back on work." Grayson nodded, damn near going cross-eyed with pleasure. No woman had ever felt as good as she did. Luxi's brow gathered thoughtfully. "Huh. Did it work?" 224
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"Yes. Can't you tell?" "Good thing I know you're joking." She raked her nails down his chest and contracted her vaginal muscles around him, squeezing him so sweetly he thought he might pop. "'Cause I'm not through with you yet." It took three tries before Grayson managed to escape the bed without Luxi stirring awake and having her wicked way with him. The last time must have worn her out, for he stumbled over his shoes and accidentally turned on the television before he made it out of the room. The fact she didn't jolt awake gave him a rush of pure masculine pride. Luxi was insatiable, and had a way of turning him into the Energizer Bunny; though he didn't mind in the slightest, it did give him much-deserved satisfaction to know he'd finally exhausted her enough to keep her asleep. Grayson indulged in a long, hot shower before braving a glance at his Blackberry. Eleven missed calls, five angry phone messages, and nearly two dozen text messages—all from John—awaited his review. It was nearly ten in the morning, so if he hurried he might make it to the office by lunchtime. Then he recalled Gula, his bodyguard, who had volunteered to wait outside and ensure no one sent a wayward bullet into his home while he was, in Gula's words, "sexing up the intern." Had he remained vigilant all night? What would he say when Grayson emerged late and visibly more relaxed? So much of this plan had made more sense the day before—or had seemed it, at least. Grayson had been fully 225
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aware during each step over the past few days how recklessly he behaved; he just hadn't cared enough to stop. Men like John made campaigns and political terms their lives, but that wasn't what Grayson had in mind. If given the ultimatum between continuing down this path or settling into a new life with Luxi and maintaining his post at Brentwood Christian ... well, the choice was easy. Frighteningly easy. Luxi was still asleep when he emerged from the bathroom. There seemed little harm in letting her take the morning off; she'd need to be in this afternoon to answer the phone and sift through the campaign donations—especially with Cassie sleeping off what had to be a monstrous hangover—but for the time being... Grayson froze halfway through pulling up his pants. Cassie. He'd nearly forgotten about her. The girl who had managed to find her way inside his house, stripped to her birthday suit, and passed out on the floor. They'd tripped over her last night and he'd taken her to the spare bedroom ... and completely forgotten about her until now. In the morning light, not much of his actions yesterday made sense. Sure, he'd been eager to get naked with Luxi, but he wasn't the sort of guy who stumbled over bare-assed blondes every day. He hadn't been anyone since Amily—he hadn't felt anything like this since Amily. Even still, Grayson remained relatively certain women didn't become so enraptured with someone that they'd break into their house, and he knew he wasn't the sort of guy to shrug it off until morning. 226
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Luxi had him under some sex-crazed love-spell, reverting him to the sort of behavior he'd skipped in college. Her timing was awful, granted, but nothing like this had happened to him before. Perhaps everyone grew stupid when they were in love, and perhaps some small part of him had always known Amily wasn't the sort of woman with which one built a future. At any rate, he should check on Cassie, if not to discover what had been going through her head, then definitely to make sure she wasn't sick or needed a ride home. Grayson slipped on a plain white undershirt and tiptoed out of the bedroom. With any luck, Cassie had already dressed and shown herself out, and they could avoid this whole awkward situation. If he had any remaining room for normal, what he saw when he entered the guestroom devoured it. The man standing beside Cassie's bed looked strikingly familiar—the sort of familiar where one feels an immediate kinship to a past event but can't locate the memory. He had sandy-blond hair, strong, angular features, and was dressed like a beach bum. Cassie was awake and nearly clothed, her golden hair toppling gracefully over her shoulders. Her eyes widened with alarm when she saw Grayson in the doorway. "What the hell is this?" Grayson demanded. "Not only are you breaking into my house, but now you're—" The man raised a hand. "Calm down." "Calm down? Who the hell do you think you are?" Cassie squeaked and covered her eyes. "Oh no. This is bad. This is really bad." "Yeah?" Grayson snapped. "You think?" 227
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The beach bum looked amused, which only furthered Grayson's irritation. "If you please," the man said, "I can explain everything." "Yeah, I'm sure." The man smiled. "Cassie, I believe our friend will feel more at ease if you finish getting dressed." "Actually," Grayson retorted, "I'll feel more at ease if you get the heck out of my house. I am not looking to become an R.A. any time soon, so you two can take your creepy 'break in to the preacher's house' sex game back to the dorm. And Cassie? Don't bother coming in today." The beach bum released a slow hum of a chuckle. "Please," he said in a voice all too tempered for an intruder who looked like a Gap model. "I was merely picking her up. It seems she hit a snafu yesterday." "Then why is she half-naked?" "From what I learned, she was fully naked when you found her. I suspect this is an improvement." The man paused, his smile never wavering. "Be that as it may, things have occurred that have forced my hand." Again, Grayson was struck with a pang of recognition, only this instance came attached with a memory. It had been just days ago in Mississippi, on the lawn of some antebellum home at Luxi's sister's reception. This man, the intruder before him, had waltzed in uninvited, and his presence had all but drawn the festivities to a halt. Something grabbed Grayson's stomach and squeezed. "I know you." The man nodded. "Of course you do." 228
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"You were at the thing." "Ava's party, yes," he agreed. "But that is not where you know me." "Do you have a name?" "I have a million. But you might as well call me Big J. Everyone does." "The Almighty," Cassie whispered. "Except Cassie," Big J said. "She calls me the Almighty." Grayson's heart thundered and his pulse quickened. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. Beyond the normal delusions of grandeur he saw day in and day out, the inmates he had prayed with at the medical prison, not to mention the glamour of professional politics, Big J's casual demeanor had him truly terrified. "The Almighty..." "The Alpha and the Omega. The Beginning and End." Big J snapped his fingers. "Care for a little proof?" Grayson didn't feel the ground move beneath his feet or watch the ceiling tumble away. He suddenly found himself under the sun, walls of roaring water at his sides. Fish flopped on the sandy bank at his feet, and before him stood the man. Big J. Looking calm and collected, still wearing the smile. Grayson thought he was hallucinating until a bird decided to deposit a helping of dung on his shoulder; and nothing could imitate that smell. "I am the Alpha and the Omega," Big J said again, his voice somehow sounding over the roar of the water. Then just as quickly, they were back. Back in Grayson's house. Back in the guest room. Back, though he still had bird poop on his 229
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shoulder. Cassie was now fully dressed and looking far too normal for what Grayson had just experienced. "Oh god," he cried. "I'm losing my mind." "'Oh god?'" Big J echoed. "I'm standing right here. Could you not do that?" "I've lost my mind." "No, you haven't." "Where was that? Where did you just take me?" "The river?" Big J shrugged. "The Mississippi. Closest one, and one of my favorites." He frowned, eying the bird droppings on Grayson's shoulder. "Whups, let me get that. My fault." For whatever reason, watching the stain disappear with nothing more than the wave of a hand was the breaking point. Shock faded for a less comfortable panic, and all at once nothing looked familiar. "Stroke, stroke," he muttered. "I've had a stroke. Luxi!" "If you'd had a stroke, I'm sure there would be other indications," Big J said reasonably. "And I certainly wouldn't call for her. Point of fact, Grayson ... I'm rather disappointed in you." "Me too. I thought I was sane." "Granted, I knew she had a head start. You give someone deity status, and they tend to use it. Luc played me, and well. I'd forgotten how crafty he can be." "Luc ... what?" "Oh, Lucifer," Big J supplied. "I suppose that's how you best know him. You met him in Natchez, outside Mammoth Plantation. I believe you referred to him as the Professor X to 230
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my Magneto, or something of the like. I was always a DC Comics guy, myself." Grayson nodded numbly, his warped brain churning for hints, clues, any indication of the meeting referenced. Luc had been the guy with the horns. And the book. He'd introduced himself as the devil. Oh god, oh god. "I can hear that, too," Big J said dryly. "Stop doing that!" "He just yelled at me." Big J frowned and turned to Cassie. "Did you hear that? It was one thing when he didn't know who I was, but now I'd expect something in the way of manners." He glanced back to Grayson. "Do not raise your voice to the deity. We don't appreciate that." "I don't... I..." "I, however, can appreciate how strange this must be for you. All those existential questions and here I am. But I am here to help." He paused. "And pick up my Virtue." "Virtue?" Cassie waved. "That's me." "Granted, sending in Chastity to do Lust's work was likely not the best gamble, but you work with what you have." Big J heaved a dramatic sigh. "She is one of my Virtues. I have seven. Luc, as you know, has his own private staff. The Seven Deadly Sins. You're well acquainted with one, though I believe you have officially met them all." "The Seven Deadly—" "Ira," said Big J, holding up a hand and counting them off. "Anger, of course. Superbia, or Perb, as I believe they call him. Pride. Acedia, or Ace. Sloth. You know Mr. Gula." 231
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Grayson swallowed. "Gula? My..." "Yes, your bodyguard, though you also met him at Avaritia's party. Avaritia being greed, naturally. Luc had that introduction wiped from your memory." At the mere mention, Grayson's recollection of the evening in Mississippi pieced itself together, and the knot in his belly grew fatter. "Invidia," Big J continued. "And that leaves Luxuria. The Sin of Lust. Though you know her as—" "Me." A cold tremor went down his spine. Grayson was almost afraid to look, though he had to—he needed to see her, to look into the eyes he loved and hope she could make sense of the tumbling world around him. Break him free of whatever had hold of his mind. He needed to see her... Because the more Big J spoke, the less certain Grayson became that he was hallucinating. Never had Luxi awakened with such a vacuum in her gut— a horrible, prickly sensation dancing across her skin, eating through her body, and damn near pinning her to the bed. Her inner alarm was ablaze, responding to a larger energy signature than any she had encountered aside from the boss. And even before she threw off the blankets, she knew what she'd encounter in the other room. She knew ... yet she remained woefully unprepared. "Luxi?" Grayson asked, his voice so different from the man who had whispered such sweet promises to her all night. The man whose heart had beat against her chest, whose lips had danced across her skin, and whose words had professed love 232
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for her. For her. He loved someone no one had loved before— the person beneath the mask. A part of her had known it would end this way. Eventually he had to discover what she was and all she'd done. The transgressions she'd committed during her long tenure as Lucifer's soldier, not to mention the crime against him. She knew and yet she'd hoped. She doubted she'd ever stop hoping. "Hello, Luxi," Big J said. "We were just talking about you." "Yeah, I heard." "Luxi." Grayson's cracked voice damn near tore her in two. "I am... What is going on?" She found looking at him particularly hard, thus quickly averted her eyes. The prickly sensation from before had hardened, weighing her feet down when all she wanted to do was run. Hard and fast and away from here. Instead, she swallowed and straightened her shoulders. "You heard the man." "This is crazy." "Yes, no, maybe so, but I'm a Sin." Luxi met Big J's gaze. "At least, I was." "Was?" echoed the deity. "Boss didn't tell you? I resigned." She paused. "Maybe not, you know, official-like, but I told him it was over. Just gotta get the paperwork filed." When she hazarded a glance back to Grayson, what she saw had the power to break her. Confusion meshing with reality, comprehension battling incredulity, betrayal fighting something she couldn't name. No more denials, no more 233
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second-guessing. The world he'd known had fallen behind him; without warning, Grayson had been thrust into a whole new ballgame without a rulebook. She would pity him if she didn't pity herself. "A Sin?" Grayson echoed. "She's Lust," Cassie said, shaking with obviously forced bravado. Luxi would have sympathized with her, as well, in different circumstances. "She was sent here to seduce you." Luxi stiffened. "No. Actually—" "Like she did Amily," the Virtue concluded. Grayson froze. Luxi's eyes hardened. "Oh, bitch, no you don't," she snapped. Even Big J looked displeased. "Cassie, that's enough." "What?" Grayson demanded. "What about Amily?" But Cassie wasn't talking now; not with Big J glaring at her. It didn't matter, though. The damage had been done. No matter of punishment the Virtue received for speaking out of turn could take the words back. Except Big J himself, but something told her it wasn't in his prerogative. "Come now, Cassie," the deity said. "It's better we leave now." "As you wish, Almighty." Grayson's voice rose to a shout. "What about Amily?" No answer came. In a blink, Big J and Cassie vanished, leaving Luxi gazing into Grayson's eyes, but not having Grayson's warmth reflect back. Instead, she saw something she'd seen millions of times on millions of faces; something 234
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she hadn't realized came with pain until this moment. Something she hadn't realized could hurt. Grayson looked at her, and though he knew her, he didn't recognize her. At all. [Back to Table of Contents]
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Chapter Sixteen "What about Amily?" It was the third time he'd asked that question since Big J and Cassie popped off, and Luxi still hadn't found her voice. Her body was wound tight, her nerves seemingly determined to pull themselves apart with a mixture of outrage, humiliation and despair. The look in Grayson's eyes didn't make things better—so different than what she'd seen just this morning. The warmth, the joy, the passion ... he'd had her believing it. Believing in him, believing perhaps the happy ending she swore she'd never get wasn't so far out of reach. And while a good part of her wanted to throw herself at the mercy of his amazement and understanding—beg him to realize what she was didn't define who she was and she hadn't performed any of her assignments with a mind to hurt anyone—the rest of her remained resolutely silent. "Damn it, Luxi, what about—" "I already told you." She hadn't expected the words, and didn't even realize what they meant until they were free. Nevertheless, they remained true. She had confessed her culpability in ending a marriage to him—only that situation was fabricated as a means of easing her warring conscience. Somehow, she doubted he'd be so understanding now. "You already told me?" Grayson demanded, his eyes burning. She recognized the look. While he knew not to question what he'd learned over the last half hour, he still 236
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hadn't fully accepted it. A part of him clung to the hope he would wake up—all this some convoluted nightmare. It wasn't as though every one of Luxi's targets discovered she wasn't human. Most had no idea. Yet slip-ups were known to occur, and while Grayson was the first human to hear the words Seven Deadly Sins in relation to her, the reaction she received was remarkably similar to the isolated incidents from her past. Likely because he had no idea what lengths existed between Hell Demons and Sins. "Yes," Luxi replied, oddly calm. "I told you in Natchez. I told you—" "You told me you were hired by a PI," Grayson retorted. "To find out if a woman's husband would cheat. Not exactly the same thing." "Actually, yes, it's exactly the same thing. Except the husband was a wife." "You were hired by the devil?" "Not so much with the hired part." She spread her arms. "I'm a Sin, Grayson. That's why I was made." "You're Lust." "Yes." "And you ... what, seduced Amily?" "What? Fuck no. It wasn't one of those kind of missions." Grayson stared at her for a moment before breaking away, blinking rapidly. "This is insane. This whole thing is insane. I woke up and God was standing in my spare bedroom with a half-naked woman—" "She was a Virtue." "She didn't seem too damn virtuous to me!" 237
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Luxi had no argument for that. "What do you want me to say?" He stared at her again. "How long do you have? That this morning isn't happening, or that I am having some manic pre-election nervous breakdown. That you are just you and there's nothing behind it—" Her temper flared. "I am just me." "Well, this just doesn't happen!" "Well, fuck me sideways, it just did. So stop with the girlon-the-verge and listen to me." Grayson's gaze hardened into a glare, but either from curiosity or a fury of wanting to say too much, he didn't resume screaming. Luxi expelled a deep breath. "I didn't know you when I was assigned Amily." "Assigned." He spat the word. "Let me get this straight... Lucifer, the devil, gave you the task of getting my wife to cheat on me." "Yes." "And you just accepted." "Yes." "Without question." "It's why I was made." "To ruin lives?" Luxi blinked and looked away briefly, her chest tightening. "When the boss assigned me to you, I didn't connect the dots. I didn't realize you were the guy she cheated on. I didn't know shit until the trip to Mississippi. And that's why I told you what I did." 238
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"You mean the lie." "Well, the truth would've sounded fucking nuts, right? Of course I told you the lie. And when I saw Lucifer next, I laid into him." He looked at her blankly. "Lucifer. Lucifer. And your sisters. And Gula. And ... god, this is crazy." "Yes, billions of people believing we exist is perfectly sane. Discovering they're right is crazy." "Stop saying it like that!" "Like what? Like the truth?" Luxi shrugged. "Again, please, if you have any suggestions for what you want me to say, I'm all ears. But I'm here, and I've been here since the beginning. We all have. And this is how we do things." "You make people fall in love with you and then destroy them with it?" It was the first time she'd heard any hint of the sentiments he'd first expressed last night, and while her heart skipped at the prospect, the bitterness in his voice was like a blade to the gut. "That was a mistake," she said hoarsely. Grayson released a bitter laugh. "You're telling me." "I didn't want to. I wasn't here to make you fall in love with me." "Of course not." "Or even to fuck you." "So why were you here?" She gestured emphatically. "I have no fucking clue." "You don't," he deadpanned.
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"I was told to come here, and here I came. Point of fact, the only rule was to keep my hands off you and everyone who so much as looked at you." He was staring again. "That makes even less sense than you being from Hell." "Tell me something I don't know." "You're a lust demon from Hell who was sent here not to spread lust?" Grayson broke away with a laugh. "Wow. Good job." "I tried to stay away from you." He laughed again, the sound somewhat manic. "I came into this thing completely blind," Luxi replied. "Boss sent me up here, ignored my every question, and told me to intern for you. That's all." "To sink the campaign." "No, moron, not to sink the campaign!" "Why else would Satan put an operative in my office?" Luxi held up a hand. "First of all, his name ain't Satan. Satan was one of the higher demons who carried out a bunch of the boss's missions before he started using us. Then he got all power hungry and Lucifer had to lock him up." Grayson blinked. "Just sayin', calling him Satan is one of his pet peeves." "I'm going to try really hard to give a crap." She sighed and shook her head. There was no point pursuing that argument at the moment. "Secondly, and for the eighteenth time, he didn't tell me why I was in your office. He gave me no directive, no orders, except to go and serve and to not fuck you or anyone else." 240
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"Yeah, well, again: good job." "And I know that you can't see clearly since your head is stuck up your ass at the moment, but you will remember here soon that I tried," she snapped. "You're the one who showed up on my doorstep with cashew chicken. You're the one who invited yourself along with me to Ava's shindig. You're the one who chased, Grayson. And you had me believing something I knew wasn't true." "So I'm the bad guy now?" "The only thing you didn't know about me was my origin. Everything is just me." "And God help me if I can't get over the tiny, insignificant detail that you are a demon!" Luxi snorted. "I'm not a demon. I'm a Sin. Big diff. And if you're looking for Big J's help, you should've asked." The silence that followed cut to the bone. "You know," she continued. "'Cause he was here." "So it was all a joke to you. Some funny let's-pull-thewool-over-the-preacher's-eyes mission from Hell that—" "My god, do I even need to be here for this conversation? Again, and please try to understand this time: my orders weren't to fuck you, John, Nina or whoever's on your list. I didn't know why I was here. I still don't." Another derisive laugh ruptured off his lips. "And you expect me to believe that? My campaign hit the shitter the second you walked through the door." Luxi blinked. "So it's all about the campaign now? When did that happen? It's just like you church-types to rewrite history. And just like a politician, now you're taking things I 241
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heard you say and pretending you never said them. Congrats. Looks like you made it." "What is that supposed to mean?" he snarled. "It means I was there, asshole! Do I really need to say all of this again? I tried to stay away from you, leave you the fuck alone, but you wouldn't let me! I shoved you out of my place, and you decide the next fucking day to come with me to Ava's reception. I tell you to back the hell off after I was stupid enough to let you close to me—" "Let me?" She nodded, barely pausing for breath. "And then I quit. I quit my job over you. Because you were supposed to be different. I told Lucifer, the boss, the Prince of Lies, to fuck off and leave me alone because I was stupid enough to think you were worth it. But the worst thing? I believed you. I believed you the whole fucking way." She huffed, her body running high on self-loathing and cold, unforgiving disappointment— the likes of which even the most optimistic soul couldn't survive. "How fucking dumb does someone have to be?" A different Grayson, one she'd never met, answered her with a chilling, "I'm wondering that, myself." Her chest tightened again and her eyes prickled, but damn it, she would not cry in front of him. Not now. Instead, Luxi did her best to shake it off, straightening her shoulders and drawing in a breath. "Well, don't worry," she said coolly, "I won't inconvenience you by being around for you to paw at anymore." "You made me this way." She snickered. "Oh, please." 242
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"You—you put some sort of ... I dunno, lust spell on me. To derail the campaign. Was the bullet yours, too?" Luxi's eyebrows perked. "It's amazing how wrong I was about you. You are a complete moron." Grayson shrugged. "Well, at this point in time, I'm inclined to agree with you." She huffed and shook her head again. "I'm really not in the mood to talk myself in circles, so you know what? Sure. Fine. I confess. I seduced you with my spooky satanic magic. I put the mojo on your dick to make it pay me all kinds of special attention. I used my evil feminine wiles to get you to feel for me, make you think you were talking me into something I wanted all along. And then I made you tell me you loved me ... for what? The laughs? Do I look like I'm enjoying this?" "You lied to me." "Please. You lied to yourself. Thing is, I believed the lie, too. And you'd think being as old as I am, I'd've learned better." "Don't," Grayson snapped. "What?" "Don't you dare try to turn this around on me. Like I tricked you into something you weren't playing at. You made me fall in love with you, damn it. You made me fall in love with someone who never existed." Luxi held his gaze a long moment, the fight slowly fading. And that was almost worse than disappointment, than the crushing weight of something she didn't care to explore. The want of a dream she never had a shot at grasping in the first 243
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place. Knowing she had deceived herself was one thing; accepting it was something she couldn't face at the moment. "You wanna know what the kicker is? Even now, I could almost believe you. I don't think I could ever forgive you for that." Her eyes grew heavy again and she knew she wouldn't be able to battle her tears away this time. It didn't matter. Whatever she'd been playing toward was gone, and it wouldn't surface again. "So long, Grayson," she whispered. She closed her eyes and wished herself away, and when she felt brave enough to open them, she found herself standing in the living room of the townhome that didn't belong to her. In a life that wasn't hers. There was nowhere left to go. The campaign. Hell. Ava. Grayson. All of it. All gone. Luxi collapsed onto the sofa in exhaustion, and let herself cry. Impossible. The word kept fluttering through his head, surfacing every time he thought he had silenced it for good. Impossible. The things he'd seen this morning, the things he'd learned, the things Luxi had told him and what he'd said in turn. He'd been cruel, and he was never cruel, but every time her face floated into his thoughts a surge of disgusted anger came with it. Impossible he'd awakened this morning happier than he'd ever been. That he'd felt anything remotely similar to love ... but that was what it was, of course. Otherwise his chest wouldn't hurt and his skin wouldn't feel as though it were desperate to escape his body. 244
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Hell. Lucifer. Big J. Cassie. Luxi. The Seven Deadly Sins. He had the worst damn headache. Grayson recognized several key failings in himself—things he'd tried to rectify over the years, and while his faith had been tested a time or two, he'd always come home. He'd believed in Heaven and salvation and everlasting life, but he also recognized there were certain things that simply didn't happen in the natural world. He made no secret of his personal demons; his sermons often involved confessing his sins to the congregation. Seeing as many of Brentwood's members came from more fundamental backgrounds and saw his church as a place to escape—to feel God's love rather than his judgment—discussing the living moment rather than the everlasting that came after death seemed more tangible. To understand that being a Christian was more than trying to be faultless; it was accepting that with mortality came imperfection and sin, that one didn't do what was wrong out a desire to be wrong, rather because the right thing wasn't always in view. That to sin wasn't a crime as long as one recognized and learned from their mistakes. Perhaps he'd let himself off too easy. In a matter of days, he'd literally thrown himself in with the devil ... only nothing about her seemed wrong. Grayson had always felt he'd recognize evil when he saw it, and even now, knowing what he did not know when he awoke that morning, he couldn't see where he'd missed it. The clue he should have noted that would have given her away. All he saw was Luxi rolling her eyes or making a snappy comment, or rarer still, smiling at him like he was truly something. 245
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Grayson went numb after she left. He showered again, because he suddenly felt he'd never be clean. He dressed and somehow made it to work without causing an accident. People shouted at him when he entered the headquarters, but he didn't blink. Instead, he walked slowly to his office and shut the door behind him. He couldn't hide long, of course. John strode in a few seconds later, looking stern and exasperated. "Hi, remember me? I'm the guy who—" "Yeah." "When I call you, I don't care if you're fucking Angelina Jolie on top of Mount Rushmore, you pick up the goddamn phone." Grayson just nodded, looking out the glass wall. His gaze landed on Gula, who stood by Luxi's vacant desk with a dark look on his face. Gula. The Sin of Gluttony. He couldn't even summon the strength to show the demon the door. Grayson had entered a gray area he likened to buyer's remorse. How someone could look so normal, so human, and be anything but... The world he'd known was a lie. Everything was. "Grayson?" He blinked and turned. John was staring at him blankly. "Sorry," he said. "Rough morning." John's hands came up. "I don't need or want to know how rough your naughty time with Luxi was. I just hope you got it out of your system 'cause we don't have time for stragglers today." He paused. "Where the hell is she, anyway?" 246
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"She's not coming in," Grayson replied. "What's next?" "You wear her out that much?" "I don't want to talk about it. What's next?" By some act of mercy, John ceased being himself long enough to know when to not push an issue. Instead, he cleared his throat and nodded. "You hear what happened this morning?" It was a desperate, obvious attempt to change the subject, but Grayson appreciated it all the same. Until he continued, at least. "The Mississippi had like a, I dunno, freak event. The crazy wacko religious freaks say it Red Sea'd on us, Moses-style. Some sign of the apocalypse." He shrugged. "Then again, these are the same people who think God's raging war on America because we love the gays." Grayson cleared his throat. "We better go over security for the rally." "Now you're talking." "And get Senator Clark on the phone." He sighed. "Big night tonight." "Yeah." John paused. "You sure you're okay?" "I'm fine," Grayson said. He raised his gaze again to Luxi's empty desk and found Gula staring at him, his expression still stony. In that moment they knew each other, and he wasn't sure who he hated more. "Perfectly fine." [Back to Table of Contents]
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Chapter Seventeen Grayson had no idea what injected John with enough sense to keep his mouth shut, but somehow the man went the rest of the day without mentioning Luxi. Instead, he did what any friend would and kept a steady stream of work piled on his desk. Conference calls, meetings with local businesses, and a constant update on the whereabouts of Senator Clark. Every few minutes, though, Grayson hazarded a glance in Gula's direction. What the Hell-thing had heard was a different matter altogether. Gula hadn't been waiting when he stepped out of his house that morning, and though they exchanged no words, Grayson knew his fight with Luxi wasn't a secret. Heck, Gula might know everything. How these Sins communicated was completely up in the air. The line blurring the things that were real and the things that weren't became fuzzier by the second. "Three hours," John said as he hurried by, not bothering to slow down or even cast a glance in his direction. "Three hours." Grayson faked a grin. Three hours before the rally. The big event. The last hurrah before Election Day. He should be energized, pumping with excitement. Instead, the rally loomed like a large dead end. Nowhere to go after it was over. Nothing to do but wait for the votes to pile in and determine where the future led. "I wanna go over it again," Grayson said when he caught John again. "The speech. From the top." 248
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John nodded. "Five minutes in the conference room." "I'll be there." "Good, or else this is a huge waste of time." Grayson nodded. Again and again. Until the words were engrained in his brain. Until Luxi's name was forced out. Tomorrow he'd come up with a new strategy. Sleep. Luxi had never understood its virtue until now. A bed had never been so welcoming as the one awaiting her at her rented townhome. Every few hours she'd open her eyes, blink around the room, and then remember. Their argument seemed caught on an endless loop, and between periods of wakefulness, she'd recall something she'd said or grab hold of something that should have occurred to her before. Her first instinct had been to cut him down, cross her arms over her heart and escape unscathed. She'd been set up from the beginning, though for what purpose, she didn't know. Lucifer had placed her in Grayson's life to pit her against Big J because Grayson was important. Or something. And Big J, in turn, had sent Cassie. It was a cosmic joke, Luxi guessed. Something from the old days wherein the boss and the Creator would go head to head, trying to one-up each other by any means available. She'd never guessed she'd be a tool in one of their games, but there was a first time for everything. Where to go from here remained uncertain. Returning to Hell seemed out of the question. Even if Luxi could swallow her pride long enough to fall back in line, she wasn't sure she 249
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could ever trust Lucifer again. None of his actions of late made any sort of sense. He'd shown Ava compassion and understanding, then thrust Luxi into the middle of something without any hint of explanation. Even when Luxi thought her sister might pay the ultimate price for her indiscretion, even knowing how much it'd hurt to lose her, she had understood why, more so than she understood Lucifer's mercy. Perhaps this entire venture in Missouri had been the boss trying to regain his footing; remind Hell he still did whatever he wanted whenever he wanted and no one was safe from his judgment. Otherwise, Luxi was inclined to believe she'd been sent to Grayson for the sole purpose of crushing something within herself she hadn't even realized existed until it was gone. At any rate, even if she did return to Hell, she wouldn't resume her position as the Sin of Lust. The job held zero appeal. She didn't want anyone but Grayson, and even then, Grayson had done his best to burn the bridge between them. He'd cut her to the bone without blinking, and she'd fired back. Luxi eventually forced herself out of bed. She indulged in a long shower, scrubbing every inch of her skin until it turned red and whined under her touch. In the cluttered mess of clothing left by the previous tenant, she wrangled an oversized pair of sweats. She piled her hair in some twisted fashion on her head, selected the least appealing tank top she found in her wardrobe, and wandered aimlessly downstairs. Human girls usually did the junk food binge in times like these. Luxi wondered if Ben and Jerry's delivered. A double250
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dipped hot fudge sundae with a side of cheesy chili fries sounded really good right now. When she spotted Invi in the middle of the kitchen as she had that first morning, Luxi felt nothing—no surprise, joy or outrage. Her sister's presence couldn't mean anything good. "What are you doing here?" Luxi walked past her, making a beeline to the fridge. "Gula wanted me to drop by," Invi replied. "Says you and your honey had a fight." Luxi snorted, opening the icebox door. "He ain't my honey. And you're not one to take pity on anyone but yourself." "Okay. Harsh." "Sorry. I'm just not in the fucking mood." Invi nodded. "Yeah. I noticed." "Don't mean to be rude—" "When do you ever?" Luxi rolled her eyes. "And now we're back to why are you here?" "As I said, Gula paged me." "And what? You see I'm in one piece, right?" "I see you're in a world of hurt, and I'm sorry, but you're still my sister and that means I get to occasionally worry about you." Invi paused. "I'm here for you. Tell me what happened." "Why? So you can rub it in?" "When did you become so cynical?" "When have I ever been anything but?" Luxi broke away, unwilling to let her sister see her lip trembling or her hands shaking, or anything resembling pain flash across her face. 251
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They didn't have the sort of relationship where checking in on the other was a regular thing, so if Invi was here to stroke her hair and tell her everything was going to be all right, the other shoe had already dropped. And not for nothing, Luxi wasn't sure how many hits she could take in one day. "Look," Invi said, "Ava isn't here anymore. It's just you and me, sister." "I don't remember asking for either one of you." "You never ask. That's not the way it works." "Ever think there might be a reason for that?" "Luxi, talk to me." "No thanks." Invi sighed loudly. "Wow. I can't believe this is what I was jealous of for all these centuries." Luxi looked up at that, her brow furrowing. "What do you mean, jealous? When were you ever jealous?" The blonde offered her a blank stare. "Hi. We have met before, haven't we?" "I don't know what game you're playing—" "My god, will you stop? I'm not playing a game. And you can't tell me it never occurred to you that I want some oneon-one time with my sisters. I love Ira, but he's not exactly the most reliable confidant." Luxi bit her tongue at that, lowering her gaze. She didn't want to admit she knew exactly what Invi was talking about— she didn't want to admit anything at the moment. Like the fact once the anger dissipated, once she swallowed her pride, having someone near was a damn relief. The prospect of facing any of the coming hours alone had her terrified, and 252
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though Invi wasn't the first person she would have chosen, having her here was a blessing in disguise. Evidently, responding with silence wasn't the best bet. Invi heaved another loud sigh and shook her head. "All right. I'm obviously not cut out for this. If you like, I can go see if I can wrestle Ava away from her vamp long enough to—" "No." Strangely, the idea of facing Ava seemed worse. Looking at her sister, her happily in love and without a care in the world sister, and confessing the world of heartache with which she currently dealt, would be the final nail in Luxi's elaborate, self-constructed coffin. "Invi—" "I just wanted to help." That was it. Luxi hadn't even felt it bubbling to the surface until it was too late. Tears welled behind her eyes and no amount of restraint or determination could keep them bottled inside. She choked a sob and crossed her arms, cracking with a pitiful cry. The next thing she knew, Invi had pulled her into a tight embrace, encouraging her head to her shoulder and stroking the back of her neck as the world came tumbling down. Just over an hour now. An hour away from the speech that would make or break his political career, and Grayson couldn't summon a single damn butterfly to occupy his stomach. They had gone over the rally schedule eleven times, performed eight dry runs of the speech itself, rehashed the security detail and performed three drills on what to do should the psycho who sent the death threat make good on his word. 253
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Grayson nodded numbly and responded how he knew John wanted him to respond. An hour. Luxi decided after Invi procured an actual carton of caloriepacked ice cream that she was her new best friend. "I don't remember cookie dough tasting this good," she said, leaning back against the sofa as she polished off her carton. It was a nice, forcible attempt to eradicate the other memory staining these cushions—her, Grayson, lips, and cashew chicken. Now if she could just wipe out the memory of all the other moments they spent together, she'd be set. "It's a girl thing," Invi replied. "Cookie dough is best consumed after a bad break up." Luxi grinned, though there was little feeling behind it. "We didn't break up. We'd have to have been together to break up." Invi licked her lips. "Do you wanna talk about it?" "Strangely enough, not at all." "'Kay," her sister said, shrugging. "But it's probably better to get it out now." Invi nodded. "Probably." "Are you just going to be agreeable to everything?" "If you want me to be." Luxi laughed and rolled her eyes. "How much do you know?" "Word on the street is Big J himself made an appearance. And for a few seconds, the Mississippi River parted like the Red Sea." 254
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"Yeah." Luxi sighed. "I guess. I wasn't in there for that part. But Big J swung by to pick up Cassie—" "The Virtue." "Yeah." Invi shook her head. "What is the world coming to?" "I think when we really start asking that, it truly is the end." "Little strange Big J would run that errand himself," Invi observed. "I'd think he'd send an angel. Maybe Ava's old whipping boy. Can't imagine he's been let off the hook just yet." "No. He definitely wanted to do this himself." Luxi frowned thoughtfully. "Things like this just don't happen without a reason. And damn it, I knew that much. I knew that much every fucking step of the way. Lucifer doesn't do shit without playing an angle. I just always assumed I was more than an angle." She paused. "Grayson handled it the way you'd expect a guy to handle it." "Freak out?" Luxi smirked. "DEFCON 4 Freak Out. I dunno... I should've seen it coming." Invi arched an eyebrow. "Ummm ... how? I mean, sure, yeah, expect badness to come as a result of pissing off Lucifer ... but Big J in the room? Cassie? Virtues? Sorry, that shit don't fly." "I thought he loved me." Luxi wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Gah, for fuck's sake, I sound just like Ava." "What?" 255
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"'He said he loved me. I believed him,'" she repeated in full falsetto. "'Why didn't he love me? He loved me!' Shit, I was telling her just weeks ago that men don't mean shit with those words." It was true; Ava had discovered her feelings for Dante on the heels of a messy breakup with an angel—an angel that had left her with nothing more than a world of trouble and a brief letter stating little more than so-long-andthanks-for-all-the-sex. In the aftermath, Luxi had gone to Ava's side and held her sister as she cried about the overall suckitude that was any creation with a dick. Things were so much clearer then. Men were good for sex, lies, and videotape. Anything more was asking too much. Yet even with a bellyful of cookie dough ice cream and a heart that refused to piece itself together, Luxi couldn't let go of the illusion her romance was different. Invi patted her arm. "You were probably more helpful than I would've been." "I wouldn't be so sure about that." "Are you kidding? I was... I turn into a bad version of myself sometimes, and that was one of them. Damn, the whole thing still gets my ugly side rearing." Luxi frowned. "With Ava?" "And how easy she got off," Invi agreed. "Ava didn't get off easy." "Oh, please. Compared to the shit storm Ira and I got routinely during the Dark Ages?" "And here I thought that was because you guys were always causing shit storms during the Dark Ages." 256
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Invi shrugged. "Maybe. But even you gotta admit Lucifer was a shade darker in those days." "We all were." "And he hasn't caused anything terrible like that in over a century." "Modern medicine—" "Can only do so much," Invi insisted, "and it's nothing compared to the awesome power of us. Hell, Lux, think about it. You know I'm right. Ira and I might've been pills then—" "And you were," Luxi said dryly. "But Lucifer wasn't exactly Mr. Happy Fun Guy, either." Invi sighed and rested her head against the sofa cushion, looking softer than Luxi had seen her in centuries. "With Ava," she continued, "I guess I was just... I dunno. She always had you. You always had her. I, on the other hand, always felt like the third wheel." "If this is you cheering me up, you need practice." "I'm not trying to make you feel bad—and I'm not saying you did it on purpose or there wasn't a reason, 'cause I gave you plenty. But my bitchfest with Ava and Dante... I was a little bitter, is all." Invi offered a half-smile. "One of a thousand reasons I wouldn't be the one she should go to." Luxi settled back, considering. She and Ava hadn't really gone out of their way in the past few years to include Invi, though she honestly wasn't sure how much of that was deliberate and how much was in the assumption Invi didn't want to be included. Regardless, she didn't like the heavy feeling in her stomach—the one that hinted she could have done more to make her littlest sister feel more welcome—but 257
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what was done was done, and there was little sense obsessing over what couldn't be changed. The only thing she could do was move forward and do her best to be better. "Well," Luxi said at last, "you're here for me." Invi smiled. "How am I doing?" "Oh, you're blowing it out of the water. Granted, the ice cream did most of the work for you." "I figured." "To get a perfect score, though, you gotta make me laugh." "Make you laugh?" Luxi nodded. "There's a list. Junk food, man-bashing and humor." "I haven't man-bashed." "No, I did that part for you." She looked away, her gaze finding the empty ice-cream container. "I guess it should've occurred to me sooner. Fuck, I told myself the same thing, you know? I knew it was nuts. The whole fucking thing, yet I managed to convince myself." "Why was it nuts?" "Because the man's a fucking preacher. I don't give a shit how enlightened he is. Me and the church types don't mix." She shivered. "Whatever he saw in me wasn't there. Or whatever I believed in him—" "Okay, I'm calling bullshit." Luxi looked up sharply. "Those points can be revoked, you know." 258
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"I'm sorry. Self-pity is not a good look on you. You know what your problem with Grayson is? You're the goddamn same." A hot surge of anger crashed against her chest. "Fuck you." "Well, you are. You're both stubborn as all get out, you both go against the norm, you both believe you're not good enough for each other—" "How do you know?" "'Cause you told me." "I didn't tell you that!" Invi rolled her eyes. "Yeah, you did. Maybe not with words, but I'm older than shit, woman. So are you. I know a little about this stuff. Grayson's both jaded and idealistic." Luxi barked a laugh. "I am not idealistic." "You kinda are, sweetie. Maybe not where you're concerned, but you helped Ava—" "I warned Ava what men were like. Not so much with the help." "Have you fallen and hit your head on something? You bombarded Dante and told him to stick to her because he was just what she needed. If you didn't believe in him, in what he'd give her, why else would you have done that?" Luxi fell silent. She'd forgotten about that. "And this morning," Invi continued. "It sounds like you and Grayson both reacted with anger. Your defenses went up and the claws came out. You clashed because you're so fucking similar it's kind of nauseating, actually. Almost like Big J designed him specifically for you." 259
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It took a second, but Luxi laughed, almost for lack of anything else. "Yeah. That'll be the day." She didn't say anything else for a moment, and Invi didn't either. In the space between, reality seemed a lot more black and white than Luxi remembered. While she wasn't convinced of every one of her sister's points, she had to concede a few things. Confess some wrongs, which was something she didn't take lightly or do often. Perhaps she had been blinded by station—convinced Grayson was too good for her because of what experience had molded him to be. It wasn't like the bulk of her own existence hinged on free will. She had what Lucifer granted, and while she often pissed away whatever she could call her own, it wasn't because she wanted to, but rather for lack of anything else. Luxi wasn't bad for her sake, but rather for the sake of the millions of souls torn from their world by the minute and cast in one of two directions. Grayson hadn't seen the girl who fucked, swindled and seduced her way through the heart of humanity—no, he'd seen something different. Something she hadn't even realized existed. Something she hadn't been able to identify as hers. "I slept with Asmodeus." Luxi coughed, shaking her head and meeting her sister's gaze. "What?" Invi offered another shrug. "Something funny. For your list. I screwed Asmodeus." "The Binsfeld Asmodeus? The one who wants my job?" "Right after Mammon became demon toast." 260
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"One of the co-conspirators that nearly got Ava sucked into a collection box and Dante all fucked? One of the six demons that want our jobs?" "Yes, already! Asmodeus isn't exactly a common name, you know." "Nasty!" Luxi wiped her skin as though tainted by association. "The fuck were you thinking?" "Hey, his brother had just kicked the bucket." "The Binsfeld boys ain't siblings. You know this, right?" Invi's cheeks reddened. "I was feeling lousy, he was feeling lousy. And I was drunk." She paused. "Really drunk." Luxi stared at her blankly, and then burst out laughing. "Hey!" Invi cried. "Oh. My. Fuck." "It's not that funny." "You ... and him..." She dissolved, her arms crossing over her stomach, harsh, shrill giggles erupting through her throat. "Need ... bleach ... for ... eyeballs." "Ha ha." "Hey!" Luxi pointed. "You wanted to make me laugh." "I didn't think it'd be like this!" "What did you expect? You boned the wannabe Lust Demon." Tears gathered in her eyes. "Oh, tell me more. Did he whisper sonnets? Did he get Barry White to beam down and set the mood? Please, spare no detail." Invi shook her head, reaching for the television remote. "Forget it." "Is he boxers or briefs? I can just imagine him dancing around in tighty whities." 261
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"You're not funny." "No, 'cause that's your job. You're my cheer-up committee." "You need a distraction." "And images from your unpublished Playgirl letter isn't distracting?" Invi favored her with one last glance, blushing furiously, then flicked on the television. Voices crackled steadily across static and the picture followed, and before Luxi could fire off another wisecrack about Asmodeus, the news banner on the screen caught her attention. REV. GRAYSON BAILEY SHOT AT CAMPUS RALLY. SUSPECT IN CUSTODY. [Back to Table of Contents]
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Chapter Eighteen Several things happened at once. Invi started saying her name. The room blurred around her. Her skin went numb and a dull but persistent ringing sounded in both ears. Adrenaline pumped through her body but her legs felt weighed with lead. Luxi stared at the television, her unblinking eyes fixated on the blocked text at the bottom of the screen. REV. GRAYSON BAILEY SHOT AT CAMPUS RALLY. SUSPECT IN CUSTODY. Shot. Shot. No other details were forthcoming beyond Grayson's condition was critical and the gunmen had allegedly acted alone. Four others were hit in the firing, and there were rumors circulating one of the wounded had died. Senator Clark had been ushered to the hospital, but was said to be unharmed. And Grayson had been shot. "I gotta go," Luxi said numbly. "I gotta go to him." Invi was suddenly in front of her, gripping her shoulders. "Lux—" "He needs me. He needs..." A bolt of energy burst through the air, and Gula came with it, tumbling out of empty space, his face wild. The feeling in her hands started to return. "You're here to take me to him, aren't you?" Luxi asked. To her ears, she sounded calm. Much calmer than she would have expected. "To Grayson? You were there. You saw it. Where is he?" 263
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Never had her brother looked at her with such pity. At least she thought it was pity. His brow was furrowed and his mouth sat crooked, as though it didn't know what words to select. She didn't understand. She needed to get to Grayson. He was shot. He needed her. Whatever had happened between them that morning was on hold now. It didn't matter. He needed her at his side. "Gula—" "He's gone, Lux," her brother said. "It was point-blank. He didn't make it." "What?" "Grayson was pronounced dead at the scene. It looked pretty instantaneous to me. I don't think he suff—" "He's dead?" Luxi repeated. "The fuck kind of sense is that supposed to make? You were there to do your thing. Get in front of him. Put the motherfucker with the gun in the ground. He can't be dead." Invi looked like she might cry, which was almost more terrifying than the thought of Grayson shot and bleeding. "Luxi." Her sister's voice was hoarse. "It's... He was human." "He can't be dead," Luxi insisted. Her vision blurred and her eyes stung. "You don't understand—" "Even if it did work out, he was always going to be human. And he was always going to go upstairs." The thought of Grayson in Paradise had her stomach twisting all over again. So far away, so unattainable—behind a golden gate and forever out of reach. Endlessly locked away where she wouldn't be able to explain what she was and how it really wasn't as bad as all that. 264
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Of course, the alternative was something she couldn't even consider. Grayson would be torn apart in the pit. The same blanket fate for everyone—an eternity of suffering, fire and torment. Lucifer had long ago appealed to Big J to revert to the old system or implement the different levels as suggested in the Divine Comedy, but Big J remained adamant that eternal damnation came with an order of one size fits all. It was another factor that had led to their epic fallout. Invi was right. No matter what happened, Grayson was destined to head to Paradise. She just couldn't stand the thought she wouldn't be able to set things right between them. Dead didn't mean to her what it meant on Earth. Separation for mortals was fleeting in the grand scheme of things. Wives who lost their husbands met them again in the afterlife. The good were rewarded and the wicked were punished. All it meant to Luxi was she'd never see Grayson again, and that was something bound to happen eventually. Luxi crossed her arms and blinked. "Yeah," she murmured. "He was gonna go upstairs. You're right. You're—" "That's why I'm here," Gula said grimly. She looked up slowly, ice coursing through her veins. "What? What is why you're here?" "'Cause he didn't go up. According to Pixley, his name is in the Registration." There was a brief, pregnant pause. "Our Registration." Invi gasped and covered her mouth. "The fuck?" she spat between her fingers. "Gula," Luxi said, her words slow. "Please, don't." 265
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"Big J denied him entry." He seared her with a look, and something crashed inside her. "That's why I'm here. Grayson didn't go up. He's in Hell." At a different time, perhaps, Lucifer would muse over how many generations had passed since he strolled up the pathway to Heaven's doorway. It had been commonplace in the old days, though he and Jev had eventually agreed Earth was much more neutral territory. Even now, trailing soot and ash up the gold stones that led to the famous gates of pearl, the devil couldn't deny the pang of longing within his chest. He didn't miss Paradise so much as he missed what it had once represented. What it had meant to him to be a part of Jev's ultimate plan. Never in the early days would he have envisioned himself stalking toward the entry under these conditions. Paradise shared many qualities with the human ideal of their preferred afterlife. It felt very much like a city in the clouds, though the Heavenly Choir was only rented out on holidays and people didn't sit around strumming harps all day. The city itself was visually deceptive, appearing large but not so large as to entertain the billions of souls living within its walls. It was, however, endless. Only one exit existed in the whole kingdom—the front gate. The further one walked, the further into Paradise one became. Like Hell, it had its neighborhoods, though none could be called poor. Angels, for instance, had their own territory, which was likewise fractioned depending on each angel class. Lucifer recalled once describing Paradise as a beach party that never grew stale. And while it tugged on him, called him 266
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back as the home that once was, he felt just as surely as he ever had how misplaced he was among the likes of the Elect. It wasn't home, and it hadn't been home damn near since creation. He drew to a halt outside the Pearly Gates and politely made use of the knocker. From all the growth Paradise had entertained over the millennia, Lucifer drew small comfort in knowing some things never changed. Rather than a fancy intercom system, for instance, St. Peter materialized on the other side of the fence, dressed in an Armani suit. "Hello, Pete," Lucifer said. "The Almighty thought you might visit," St. Peter replied by way of greeting. "Isn't this the sort of thing you typically use Pixley for? Setting up meetings? Course it's been so long since you called, it's understandable you might be a little rusty." "There are times when the matter is urgent enough that bypassing Pixley is appropriate." "I cannot grant you entrance. You know that." Lucifer snickered and cocked his head. "Do I, now?" "Nobody is to see the Almighty." "Not nobody, not no how? Please." He eyed the gate speculatively. "You know Jev and I engineered Paradise together, don't you? At least, the Paradise you know and guard so well. I can't help that you are stuck with door duty." "Kindly remove yourself from the premises." "Or you'll have to move me?" Lucifer grinned and flexed his fingers, the crackle of energy just enough to betray a 267
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fleeting bout of panic on the doorkeeper's face. "Do try. I'm in the mood for a good roasting." A soft light split the air apart just then, effectively silencing the back and forth. Jev materialized in the empty space beside St. Peter, wearing all white and sporting a small halo. "Please stop scaring the newbs, Luc. Do you have any idea how much of a pain it is filling this position?" "Newb?" St. Peter whined. "I've been doing this for nearly two thousand years!" "Are you trying to impress me? I've had naps that lasted two thousand years," Lucifer retorted. Jev rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, Peter, you're the rock upon which my holy guest list is founded. Now please, allow my old friend inside. We have much to discuss." St. Peter muttered something under his breath in Aramaic and reached inside his pocket to retrieve the gate key. "I do this under protest." Jev smiled. "Noted and ignored." "The souls awaiting entry—" "They will have an eternity inside; I doubt very much five minutes will kill them all over again. And those who are not so fortunate as to be let in will treasure whatever time they get between now and forever." The deity's smile turned unpleasant. "It's been a while since I had to ask more than once of anything, Peter. Please do not try my patience." Whatever it was St. Peter did whenever he wasn't serving as Heaven's bouncer was a mystery. The entire premise of a watchman was something that had come well after Lucifer departed; the wicked hadn't begun gathering in Hell, after all, 268
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until the Great Flood, therefore keeping an eye on the population hadn't seemed necessary. Still, Paradise operated on a system of by invitation only, and though the rules could be bent from time to time, especially where communication with the pit was concerned, it wasn't something that happened often. Once inside the gate, the inebriating hum emanating from the everlasting utopia was even harder to resist, and though it provided something akin to a sugar rush, Lucifer was both relieved and disappointed when he failed to experience a heightened longing for his original home. He might recall Paradise with nostalgia, even regret, but every second only proved he didn't belong here anymore. His fate had been decided long ago as the only member of Jev's celestial creation that possessed enough gumption to stand up and say "You're wrong" when necessary. "May I hazard a guess," Jev said once they were alone, "as to why you're here?" "I don't think guessing is necessary. Grayson Bailey." Lucifer crossed his arms. "There have been times you surprised me with what names appear on my Registration, but this is the first I believe was made out of spite." "Spite? You think I sent Grayson Bailey to Hell just to get at you?" "Me, my Sin, our wager. Would you like to pick one?" Jev shrugged. "I made the only call I could. No one could have predicted what happened." "Not even you?" 269
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"I allowed my Creation free will, remember? That gunman wasn't sent there by me and certainly not by you. He acted alone." "Yet the choice to punish Grayson for something he couldn't help rests entirely upon you." Jev blinked incredulously. "Couldn't help? Perhaps, yes, if he had died not knowing what Luxi was, without understanding the bed he'd chosen to lie in, without realizing he was tainted by Hell, I could see you having something resembling a point." "Yes. It was all convenient, wasn't it? Send in your Virtue to undermine Luxuria's objective—" "From what I hear, your sweet Sin had no objective aside from falling in love. Never kid a kidder, Luc. Our bet was made on honest terms and you did your best to manipulate it." Lucifer shook his head and chuckled dryly. "Honest terms..." "And I would have happily honored the bargain had you actually won it." "Luxuria demanding her release was a stipulation of you winning our bet." "Trust me, old friend, had she done so without being coerced—" Lucifer felt his temper slip up a notch. If he wasn't careful he'd do something foolish. "Coerced?" "The Prince of Lies acting innocent? I do believe I have seen everything." "That title was not earned." 270
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"You're doing your best to make up for it now. You didn't see anything but the endgame. The five souls you so selflessly championed all these years released at last." Jev's eyes flickered. "The situation you placed her in was built on false pretenses. She already resigned her post, but you didn't collect. You didn't push her. You knew if you asked her to sign herself out she'd know something was up, as the Great Lucifer makes all of his Sins jump through hoops before they get anything their way. She had to come to you willingly, and she wasn't there just yet. What happened was of your own doing, my friend. And your coming here to demand anything from me reeks of desperation." "My own doing?" "As I said, Grayson was sent to Hell because of his affair with one of your creatures. One does not willingly entangle themselves with the devil unless one is of the devil." Lucifer just stared. "Are you somehow suggesting Grayson Bailey was fully aware of Luxuria's purpose and motives?" "The entire time, no. But he had plenty of time to request forgiveness." "After you ambushed him." Jev splayed his hands. "I was merely collecting my Virtue." "In person." "Oh, you're just looking for a fight. Cassie has never been on a field assignment before, for obvious reasons." "So why send her on this mission?" "The same reason you sent Luxi on an assignment with no purpose. If Cassie's innocence is compromised she will be useless to me as chastity, but I needed to send you a 271
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message, didn't I? Show you that I knew you were up to something." Jev arched a brow. "How did you choose, by the way? I did not specify which Sin would walk away after Ava; you made that decision on your own." Lucifer held his tongue, attempting to grab the reins on his temper. His plan for the Sins was his and his alone. "I mean," Jev continued, "you could have dressed it up a little better. Make it less blatantly obvious what your motives were. Have all the Sins on assignment, for instance, instead of just the one. Give Luxi an actual purpose instead of sending her to just stand around. Perhaps I wouldn't have noticed. One would almost have to conclude you wanted me to know, as the alternative is you've gone a bit soft in the head." The fire in his chest was growing too large to bottle. Lucifer flexed his fists, feeling himself growing hotter by the second. "So that's it, then? You condemn Bailey—" "In my son's name, man, are you even listening? I told you why Grayson was denied. In fact, I believe I've told you three times now." Jev waved a hand. "I stick by the rules I made. I don't bend them to appease a situation. I don't blink out the memories of my face to those who have seen it because it's convenient, nor do I coax your demons or Sins or whatever else to forget about me. My game is free will, and it has been from the beginning." "You—" "You tried to play me and you got burned. You're so laughably predictable, Luc." Jev shook his head and slid his hands into his white pockets. "I came to you in good faith, 272
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hoping to rebuild whatever relationship we might have once had. I offered you what you wanted more than anything, and you tried to play me. The deal's off. The souls stay where they are, and Grayson's fate is your own doing. The mess is yours to pick up." "Are you quite finished?" Lucifer asked softly. Jev shrugged. "That's entirely up to you." "No. It's not. Nothing has been, has it?" The devil scoffed. "Was it that I could see the flaw? That I proved there was nothing you could create that would follow you with absolution? You built a kingdom in a place where there is nothing but sorrow, and sent me to stand guard." "I also gave you powers I have never once dreamt of offering to another. Powers I cannot revoke." "Yes, how gracious of you. You forgot to mention how my role gave you the perfect scapegoat to your perverse sense of humor, and all of that I have not minded." Lucifer shrugged. "It made sense, after all. To coax humans into behaving, you had to give them something to fear. But my house is my house. And you deliberately fucked with it." Something sparked behind Jev's eyes. "You're suggesting this is personal?" "You made it personal when the bet became for the wellbeing of my own rather than yours. My creation has never been the subject of interest. Not until Avaritia planted a seed of doubt in your angel's head." "Sebastian has moved on," Jev replied. "Were that the rest of us could be so fortunate." Lucifer smiled unkindly. "You made it personal. You made it about 273
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you and me. Remember that, because the times, they are a changin'...and the rules along with them." "Careful," the deity advised. "You wouldn't want to do something you'll regret." "My friend, I do not believe you know the meaning of the word." It was strange the way it happened. Within minutes, she had experienced loss unlike anything she'd ever felt: a hollow abyss of nothing that drained her from the inside out. Its only virtue was it hadn't lasted long, blossoming instead into violent fury, fuelled with rage and a need for blood in turn. Hell. How in the world could Grayson be in Hell? What had he done? What crime could he have possibly committed to land him the worst of all sentences—to send him into an inferno of ripping flesh and gnashing teeth? Grayson was the most genuine person she had ever met. There wasn't a wicked or undeserving bone in his delectable body. He was too damn good for Heaven, but it would be enough. Only, he wasn't in Heaven, and it was because of her. Strange how quickly the answer had come to her. There was no debate, no second-guessing, no contemplating the alternative; Luxi knew damn sure as well as anyone that a sentence to the pit was something worse than nonexistence. The screams of the damned were unbearable, and identifying faces she knew, faces she'd tempted into sin, never got easier. Most of the time, Luxi avoided visiting the fiery lake. She had once thought her presence would soothe those in pain and assure them they were not forgotten. 274
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She'd been young then. Young and foolish. Nothing brought comfort to Big J's castoffs, least of all a woman who would never feel their agony, no matter how close she got. The decision had been easy in that regard—what to do. How to help Grayson. How to set things right. How to give him what he deserved. And though Luxi had repeated her plan three times now, neither Gula nor Invi looked particularly convinced. "I still don't think you understand," said her brother. "Striking Grayson's name from the Registration—" "Will erase him from existence," Luxi said, nodding. "Do I need to speak slower? Use smaller words? I. Want. To. Make. Him. Go. Bye. Bye. How's that?" "But he'll be gone," Invi insisted. She stood in the middle of the living room, her arms wrapped nervously around her belly. "Gone gone. Forever gone." "You have any better ideas?" "Yeah," Invi said slowly. "It involves not striking him from the Registration." Gula laughed in agreement. "Beyond the sheer what-thefuckery, do you have any idea what it'd take to pull this motherfucker off? The Registration never leaves Pixley...and if memory serves, specifically so no one can do this. Those souls are there for a reason." "A severely fucked-up reason," Luxi retorted. "Grayson Bailey deserves a lot of things, an ass-kicking at the top of the list, but I'll be goddamned again if eternal life in the Lake of Fire is among them." 275
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"Be that as it may, there isn't much we can do about it," Gula replied. "And now we're back to this. I'm going to the Unholy Damned and I'm gonna mark his name out of the fucking Registration." "Hello, logic to crazy woman!" Invi waved her hands. "You can't do it alone. Pixley didn't just fall off the turnip truck. People have tried this before. They've failed." "Some succeeded," Gula observed. "Yes," Invi said, "some succeeded. And that's why souls don't get to wander around the pit anymore. That's why they're bound to the Lake of Fire. And that's exactly where the fuck Lux is going if she follows through this insane plan." Luxi shrugged. "That's where you two come in." "Of course it is," her sister murmured. "Where we come in?" Gula repeated. "You're gonna help me distract her." "Distract Pixley." Invi stared at her for a moment, then broke away, shaking her head. "Unbelievable." Gula frowned. "How is distracting her gonna help us avoid the whole 'our collective ass is grass' thing?" "I don't know and I don't care." His scowl deepened. "Gee. Thanks, sis." "Look," Luxi spat. "This isn't a fucking discussion. I go in alone or I go in with you guys watching my fucking back. But the two of you are crazier than I'll ever be if you think I'm gonna let Grayson burn for my mistakes. You can shut up and come along or run and tattle to Daddy. I don't give a shit. The only thing I care about is making sure it ends tonight. If my 276
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ass is fried before I make it there, at least I go out with a clear conscience." The fight began fading from Invi's face. "Luxi..." "I don't care!" The scream tore off with such fury her throat would feel it for weeks, but the words wouldn't stop. "I don't care about the rules and I don't care about what Lucifer does and I especially don't fucking care about what he does to me! I'm getting Grayson out. That's it. That's the discussion. You either come with me or you hang me out. There is no coming back for me. It's this or nothing." The walls absorbed her rage with a slow hum; Gula and Invi both looked at her as though she was someone else. Another strange sensation—one she had always heard described but never understood. How all sense of recognition could disappear so quickly—blink away as though sent to the beginning. It unnerved her and strengthened her at the same time. If they didn't recognize her, perhaps it wouldn't hurt them to lose her. Lucifer would not let her survive this, and perhaps it was selfish asking for their help, but all she saw was Grayson. All she felt was Grayson. "All right." Luxi's gaze shot to Gula. "What?" "All right," Invi agreed. "We'll help you." "You're outta your mind—" Invi smirked. "And we're clearly out of ours, too." Gula grinned in agreement. "But we'll help you." 277
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Neither one looked like they recognized her still. Luxi inhaled sharply. "Why?" "'Cause that's what family does," her brother explained. "Stupid shit for the sake of family." "And this is some real stupid shit." It took another few seconds for Luxi to realize the significance of their words—for the reality of what they offered to come crashing down. Gula owed Grayson nothing more than he'd already given, and Invi nothing at all. Point of fact, they would both face Lucifer's wrath once everything had gone down—once the dust had settled and the severity of their crime had been measured. Luxi swallowed. "Guys, I—" "Yeah, yeah, yeah," Invi said, waving dismissively. "We're the best. We know. Save it for after you get yourself seriously dead." "We got some shit to fuck up," Gula agreed. "In the meantime, do you have anything in mind for your very special suicide mission?" Luxi bit back a grin and shrugged. "Show up, walk in, and see what happens." "To think I ever doubted you," Invi replied. "Words. Consider yourselves eaten." She grinned. "Quit being so optimistic. It's freaking me out." "At this point, I'm calling that a win." Luxi tossed her hair over her shoulder and favored her sister with another grin. "Better take them where you get them; we might not have many left." 278
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"Your pep talks could use more pep," Gula pointed out. "I'll try to remember that the next time I decide to do something insane." Luxi smiled and took Invi's hand, then reached for Gula's. Reality hit then—the stark understanding she would likely never be like this with her other siblings again. Regardless of what happened from here, the end had drawn to her feet, boxing her into a corner and leaving her with little choice but to plunge into nothing. And though Lucifer might not punish her with death, she remained very much aware these were the last steps she'd take freely. Punishment was one thing; to eradicate Grayson from existing violated more than Lucifer's law. Still, the choice remained the right one. The only one that could undo the world of bad left behind her. One last trip to Hell. It was all she had left. What came after was anyone's guess. [Back to Table of Contents]
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Chapter Nineteen Thomas Wolfe had it right. Once gone, one couldn't go home again. Luxi had no idea when Hell had grown so loud. Even as she stopped at her condo in Hell's Bells to write a quick goodbye to Ava—which, alongside the message Invi had promised to deliver, would hopefully convey everything Luxi wouldn't be there to say—the screams of the damned were never out of earshot. It hadn't been like this before—at least not to her ears. There were parts of the pit that were hauntingly beautiful; the sky over the Lake of Fire almost always glowed crimson, but lighter hues often tinged the areas where Hell's inhabitants lived and worked. Palatial dwellings adorned the streets of the business district, including the Red House where Lucifer performed all official duties. The Unholy Damned, with its twisting towers and burned brick—not due to fire, rather because the boss liked the look—was situated along a stretch of fiery river across from the office headquarters. In the early days, the library was a favorite hangout. Luxi and Ava would spend hours darting between rows of books, often incurring Pixley's wrath when they knocked something over or disturbed another patron. While the Sins had never had the physical characteristics of children, they had gone through the motions of juvenile behavior to adulthood, and in a place like Hell the possibilities for mischief and mayhem were endless. 280
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The trek up the library's steps didn't infuse her with the excitement it once had. Rather, Luxi's belly knotted the closer she drew to the doors. Gula and Invi were behind her, uncharacteristically quiet, but she knew what was going through their heads just as surely as she knew they would see this thing through, no matter what happened. The option to back down and walk away was always there, but hidden somewhere in the confines of an alternate version of herself. A woman who would become the sort of creature worthy of her title. Luxi might have done some pretty despicable things in her life, but when left to her own devices, she did her best to stay on the straight and narrow. This was one of those times when the will of her creator didn't matter. One way or another, Grayson wouldn't spend an eternity in Hell. No matter what it cost her. "Here it goes," Luxi said, a long breath rolling through her body. She knew she should say something else—offer her gratitude at the risk her siblings were taking, tell them proceeding wasn't necessary and she could handle this on her own. After all, when the hammer came down, it wouldn't matter whose brilliant thinking had led them here. Yet even with knowing all she did, accepting all she did, she knew she couldn't turn back, nor could she proceed on her own. She needed Invi and Gula, if only to keep her in check with herself. If either resented her for it, they didn't speak. They didn't shrug their shoulders and turn away. Rather, Invi reached for her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "In and out. Easy peasy lemon squeezie." 281
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Luxi choked back a laugh and nodded. "Easy peasy." She looked to Gula. "If someone approaches..." "I'll tell 'em the can's broken." He shrugged. "Universal for 'go the fuck away.' Just have whoever's in there out within ninety seconds." "No prob," Luxi replied. She had the overwhelming urge to hug her brother goodbye, but he'd read right through it, and wasting time seemed unwise. Especially when every second spent here was a second Grayson spent being torn apart in a flesh-consuming pit of torment and despair. The Unholy Damned very rarely attracted tourists. Hell hardly ever acquired new blood in terms of minions or demons, and unless an assignment called for special research, the volumes kept in the library had been scoured time and time again since the world began turning. Luxi wasn't surprised to find the halls vacant; special assignments had been placed on hold after Ava's excursion, thus the need to read up on something or someone in particular wasn't exactly immediate. Pixley usually remained in the middle of the dwelling, manning and directing those messages that funneled through her elaborate system. The Registration—the ever-updating book listing the name of each human occupant—would be with her. It never left her side. "What do you think?" Invi whispered. "Split up?" Luxi nodded. "If you find her first, just stall. I'll grab the book." "And vice versa?" "No. It has to be me." Of this she was certain; no one else could pay for her actions. Everything that happened from 282
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here was entirely on her. Luxi paused, turning fully to her sister. The closer they grew, the realer this became. She couldn't let things go unsaid. There might not be another chance. "Invi—" "Don't say anything." "What?" "You and me? We don't get mushy, and even if we wanted to try something new, this isn't the place to do it." Invi flashed her a tentative grin. "Save it for afterwards." No sense acknowledging there might not be an afterward. Luxi swallowed and nodded. "'Kay." "If you don't find her in ten, meet me on the third floor." "Where on the third?" Invi shrugged. "Where else? By Judas." Luxi nodded. A stone rendering of the Great Betrayer loomed over the foyer. In the Middle Ages it had been a common hangout for young, lustful demons wanting to score while in sight of history's most notorious backstabber. Once Invi had disappeared down a row of books, Luxi continued toward the communication deck. Grayson, here I come. The curator, thankfully, was easy to spot from afar. With her short purple-streaked blonde hair, thigh-high hooker boots, lacy red bustier and leather miniskirt, she looked about as at home here as would a cartoon duck. Luxi was just grateful to catch her alone; her brother, Ira, was one of Pixley's favorite fuck-buddies. Though they lived within a stone's throw of one another, they went out of their way to avoid each other—namely because both had insatiable sexual 283
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appetites that severely interfered with work. One casual glance and neither would be reachable for months. And while a distracted Pixley might be a good thing, Luxi didn't particularly want her last image to be of her brother in the buff. Luxi didn't know why she didn't consider the possibility of Ira's presence sooner; she had, after all, directed him to Pixley at Ava's reception. She chalked it up to concern for Grayson. Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock. Pixley's back was to her, as was the Registration, which floated just inches above her head. In the old days, the curator had entered every name by hand. Due to the increase in population, as well a well-played appeal to Lucifer's softer side, she barely had to touch the book anymore. Hopefully that made it all the easier to grab, though it remained with Pixley at all times so people couldn't do what Luxi was here to do. It didn't happen often, but on occasion, a suffering human soul found the will to overcome pain and slip out of the Lake of Fire. If they made it here without detection... Well, that wasn't a common occurrence. "Hello, Luxi," Pixley said without turning around. "Is there something I can help you find?" Luxi froze in mid-step. "I ... ummm..." The curator turned then; the Registration swung with her, situating itself behind her head. She wore a smile but her eyes were emotionless. "Ava has called for you several times," she said. Luxi swallowed. "Has she?" 284
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The curator nodded. "Is there a message you would like me to deliver? I know why you are here." "Do you?" "Grayson Bailey. Lucifer said you might drop by." Pixley nodded to the Registration. "In search of this, no doubt. You truly wish to erase him from existence?" "It's a better fate than most get." The smile on Pixley's face tightened. "You know the penalty this carries," she said softly. "Your sister was fortunate to escape Lucifer's wrath, and did so only because her dedication was in question. This is different. Striking the name of a condemned from the book will—" "I know. I know and I don't give a fuck." Luxi's eyes darted to the Registration, strained and desperate. Only a few steps stood between her and an eternity of nothing. "But it's my fault. He shouldn't be here at all." Pixley cocked her head. "Are we not our own keepers? You were sent to him, weren't you? I would think this endgame would be in your favor." A hot rush of anger overwhelmed her senses. Luxi flexed her fingers, her muscles tightening. "I wasn't sent to do this." "Oh really? Then why were you sent?" "I. Don't. Know." Pixley's eyes narrowed. "Oh, come now. You're brighter than that. Perhaps you weren't told what your mission was, but it can hardly be a coincidence." "Lucifer said he wasn't behind the threat." "My dear, the King of Hell might not be the cause, but Death works for us, remember?" 285
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Luxi bit the inside of her cheek, and the cool twist of pain kept her in line. Over Pixley's shoulder, she spotted Invi—or the outline of Invi—shimmering into view. Apparently, her sister had decided sneaking up on the curator was a bad move and had opted to magick herself in place, and she was likely right. Pixley had a freakish sense of awareness. Attempts at stealth were wasted. The hows and whys of Luxi's mission didn't matter now. It would all be over in a matter of seconds. "I am rather surprised at you," Pixley continued, seemingly oblivious what occurred behind her. "I didn't think the Sin of Lust could succumb to the humanly condition of empathy." Luxi shrugged. "People change, I guess." "Yes. People change. But we're not people, are we?" "I dunno. I feel like I'm getting closer by the second." Pixley offered an unkind smile. "Yes. I'm sure you are." She was in action the next second, whirling around and seizing Invi by the throat just as the Sin solidified in place. "Unwise," the curator hissed. The Registration, however, had whirled with her, jerking to a tantalizing halt within Luxi's reach. Everything else fell aside, action switching to instinct. Luxi yanked the book out of its mystical orbit, her heart tightening, her skin burning, time stepping outside itself and becoming an entity of its own. A piercing shriek sliced through the air, seizing Luxi's head and squeezing with the pressure of a thousand invisible fingers, but a bolt of green electricity from Invi's loyal hand quickly silenced the wailing curator. The book was hot to the touch and resistant to unfamiliar fingers, and though the quill 286
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jerked and pulled when she took command, it wasn't enough to break free. Pages flipped back. Just seconds now. "You will destroy him!" Pixley screamed, struggling against the static confines of Invi's mystical hold. "There is no return from this! Once his name is gone, he is lost forever!" "I don't care," Luxi spat, flipping through the pages. "I don't care." "Lucifer will unmake you." "Let him." She scanned page after page, her breath hitching when her gaze landed on his name. Grayson Bailey. Seconds now. Only seconds. "Luxuria!" "I love him," Luxi whispered. And that was it. No second-guessing. No taking it back. No qualifying that she might just be falling or on the way. This was it—the undeniable, eternity-altering, wonderful, terrible, soul-crushing knowledge that Grayson was more important than she, and her fate hinged on his. Grayson Bailey. No matter what had transpired, no matter the ugliness of their last moments together, he was worth this. He was worth anything she had to give to get him out. The words came again. "I love him." "Luxi!" Invi's voice cracked. "Do it!" Ink to parchment. A solitary line bled from one end of his name to the next. Thunder roared in the distance, the screams from the Lake echoed in her ears, twisted, distorted, 287
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angry, agonized, and plundering into a precipice, but it was over. She knew it was. Gone. Gone from this world or any other. Luxi's legs buckled as the book slipped from her hands. In seconds she was in her sister's arms, Pixley forgotten. Grayson Bailey was no more. Blisters seared his skinless arms as fire licked the inside of his eyes and kissed his blackened lungs. Bone cracked and shattered, his organs spilled and his muscle was made a feast for maggots. The taste of blood never left his mouth, but after a while he didn't notice; had he had any voice left, he doubted he could have formed a scream. Yet around him rang a cacophony of torture, singing so loudly his eardrums burst time and time again. No matter how many times he was ripped apart his body pieced itself together, and the cycle started over. No end, no end. No thought. Nothing at all. And then calm washed over his weary bones, cushioning a gentle fall into a place where nothing burned. Grayson's eyes remained squeezed shut, a cooling breath coursing through his worn, weary body. A blessed sense of nonbeing settled, allowing a moment's rest. He didn't know how much time passed before he moved. A moment, an hour, a year. He didn't move, terrified the smallest flicker would send him back to the cesspool from where he'd come. Sound began leaking around him— everyday, ordinary sound. Chatter. Ice clinking with glass. Forks scraping against plates. Birds fluttering above. Grayson blinked and dared a look around. 288
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He was seated at a small two-person table outside a cafe, surrounded by a dozen patrons enjoying food and conversation. He didn't recognize the eatery or the street on which it sat. Of course, that wasn't saying much. He barely remembered his own name. Yet approaching from a distance was a man who looked familiar. A man, not short or tall, who wore a business suit and carried a briefcase. His gaze was affixed on Grayson, therefore he assumed the setup was for him. "Mr. Bailey," said the man, stopping at his table. Grayson swallowed hard. "Yes?" The man looked at him a moment longer before offering a soft, kind smile. "Relax, Mr. Bailey. The place you left is well behind you." He held his breath, not daring to hope. "The place I left..." "You know where you were." He did. Grayson nodded mutely. He did know the place, knew its name. He just didn't want to believe it. "Hell. That was Hell." The man nodded. "Yes." "I was in..." "Yes." Another nod. "And do you know who I am?" Grayson trembled, his mind flashing to Luxi. Impossible as it seemed, despite knowing what he did, despite every strain of logic and fight in his body, he was at once consumed with the need to rush to her side and never let her go. It didn't matter at the moment that she was a creature born of that place—that her involvement might have put him there to 289
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begin with. If something like her could come from a place like that... "Lucifer." Grayson swallowed hard. "You're..." "Yes," the devil said. "And if you're agreeable, I request some time and attention." "Time and attention?" He nodded. "Mr. Bailey. I'm about to make you an offer you'd be quite foolish to refuse." Lucifer arched a chestnut eyebrow. "Will you hear me out?" Grayson's throat tightened; again he thought of Luxi. "Yes. Please." "Good." The devil smiled again. "But first, would you care for some tea? Perhaps a ham and cheese sandwich? I've heard the food here is to die for." "You're a little strange for a devil, aren't you?" Lucifer chuckled. "Yes. A little bit." [Back to Table of Contents]
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Chapter Twenty There were a million and a half things going through his mind, but the strangest and most persistent concerned what to title his memoir. My Lunch with Lucifer and Dinner, Drinks, and the Devil were at the top. After a while, the absurdity of what he'd learned would begin to wane, reality adjusting itself to incorporate things he'd felt but never known. Then it seemed foolish to second-guess anything, especially with the pain of Hell so fresh. So agonizingly real. "I tried something and it didn't work." Lucifer's tone was light, though he appeared weighed down with more than the universe on his shoulders. He was not at all what Grayson would have expected. He lacked the horns he'd worn at the reception, didn't sport a tail, and if he'd brought along a pitchfork he kept it well concealed. Yet Grayson had known all these things in the end—he'd met the man before. Laughed with him, talked with him, and mingled with his associates. Still, Lucifer's humanity was difficult to reconcile with the images engrained from Sunday School, not to mention the influence of pop culture. Al Pacino didn't have to say a word to appear menacing in The Devil's Advocate, but that rendering was so far from what now Grayson knew was the truth he didn't know whether to laugh or cry. In the end, doing neither suited him just fine. "She knows, doesn't she?" Grayson asked. "I said some terrible things to her..." 291
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"To Luxuria, I assume." Lucifer nodded without awaiting confirmation. "My good fellow, Luxuria is the reason you and I are sitting here. She is the one who ensured your sentence in Hell—unfair as it was—was brief ... even if its mark will remain with you forever." "I don't understand." "I am not sure how much you wish to know. Let's start simply and work our way through this mess. For starters: these last days, your life was utilized as a poker chip between myself and an old friend." "What?" "There was a bet," Lucifer said. "The bet involved my Sins, and the wager was something I wanted desperately." Grayson swallowed. "And Luxi..." "Luxi knew nothing, and not for lack of inquiry." He frowned and steepled his fingers, holding them to his lips. "I sent her to you, Mr. Bailey, for the purpose of setting her free." "I don't know what that means." "A few weeks ago, Luxuria's sister, Avaritia, resigned her post in Hell. I won't bore you with details, but needless to say, it caught the attention of a mutual acquaintance." "God." Lucifer made a face. "He is not particularly keen on that title. Most know him as—" Something clicked; Grayson nodded. "I remember. Big J." "He will always be Jev to me. To the point, after allowing Avaritia to ride off into the moonlight with her vampire—" "Her what?" 292
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"Oh yes. Dante is a vampire." Grayson slumped in defeat. "Of course he is." "Naturally." "What else is real? I know it doesn't really matter now, but ... unicorns? Are unicorns real? What about leprechauns? Smurfs?" Lucifer chuckled and waved a dismissive hand. "There are some humans who possess the ability to change shape, and any number of demons and half-breed demons wandering Earth. Some are unaware of what they are; most are neutral species. Others... Well, they are unaware that demon does not necessarily mean evil, and perform evil based on that misconception. Anyway, after Avaritia was released from duty, Jev and I struck a deal. He believed more of my Sins would follow suit, and he was willing to bet five souls that he was right." "Five souls." What a callous thing to bargain. "Not just any five. The five oldest. Those who have lived in Hell longer than any other." The devil narrowed his eyes. "You were there for maybe an hour, to provide perspective." And it did. An hour in Hell was more than eternity. It was a nightmare, void of any escape hatches or loopholes. Physical torment had been enough, but the deepest wound had been an absence of anything. Love. Smiles. Hugs. Laughter. Batting eyes. Sneezes. Full stomachs. Christmas. Family. And hope. Hope beyond all else. The lack of hope in itself had nearly killed him again; perhaps it had. The body remade itself in Hell, never satisfied with how thoroughly one's insides 293
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were cooked. "And you wanted them freed," Grayson said. "These five oldest." "Rehabilitated," Lucifer clarified. "If not presented with the option Luxuria chose for you." "What? What'd she choose?" "Patience, we'll get there." The devil sighed. "Jev and I have differing views on just how eternal the punishment should be. After all, he lives in a place quite unlike Hell. He doesn't have to ... let's just say, he enjoys the comfort of a gated community without wondering what happens to the garbage. The five oldest souls in Hell have more than served their sentence, and I wanted them freed. In order to free them, Jev had to win the bet. In order for Jev to win the bet, one of my Sins needed to ask for his or her freedom. And then I remembered you." "Me." "Nothing in particular struck me about you, except you are, for all intents and purposes, a very good man." Considering he had just seen Hell up close, Grayson had a hard time agreeing. "Not good enough." "Good enough for my Luxuria. That is all that matters to me. She was not aware of her connection to you—through Amily—when I issued the assignment, and that connection itself played no part in your being selected." Lucifer shrugged. "I sent her to you, Grayson Bailey, so she would fall in love. And so you would fall in love in return. No more, no less. I could have, perhaps, issued a more sophisticated directive, but I wanted her to want you, rather than view you as a body to fuck. I wanted you to want her, rather than fall victim to 294
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her spell. It needed to be genuine and natural, and strong enough to coax her to resign." "And get you your five souls." "Precisely." The devil inclined his head. "Unfortunately, the assignment was vague enough to catch Jev's attention. If you recall, he joined us at Avaritia's reception. You were the cause of that meeting." "Me," he said again. The concept was nearly too large to wrap his head around. "And dear Cassie soon followed. A diversion from Luxuria, intended to divide your attention, but that hand came too late." Lucifer smirked. "More to the point, Cassie is hardly your type. She was naive and unlearned, but an innocent in this, and desperate to prove herself to her Creator. I can appreciate the feeling, though it has waned for me over the years." Grayson nodded, doing his best to keep up, though each word did little more than to make the pit in his belly larger. He'd said horrible things to Luxi in their last conversation— mean, spiteful, nasty comments, accusing her of being everything from a demon to a whore. And true, while it occurred to him more than once that trusting the devil was a potential mistake, he found himself believing it. He didn't know why—he could barely explain it to himself—but what he had experienced had showed him something he didn't think possible. Beyond the fire and the lack of hope, he'd felt a distant sadness—one so great it echoed within him now. And though he had no way of confirming it, and asking seemed out of the 295
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question, he somehow knew what he felt belonged to Lucifer. It was too large to belong to a human, and too heavy to be anyone else's. "I have already confronted Jev as to why your name appeared in the Registration," the devil said. "He has assured me it wasn't personal, rather to do with a bruised ego for your failure in begging forgiveness for your transgressions before the bullet ended your life." "What is the Registration?" "It is the book in which the names of the damned are recorded, and is kept with the curator of our main library, Pixley, at all times." The name sounded familiar, but Grayson couldn't be bothered to care at the moment. "There are only two ways a damned soul can escape Hell," Lucifer continued. "One such way only Jev can authorize. The other is to strike a name from the Registration, which will not only remove the person from the Lake of Fire, but from existence altogether. It is the merciful solution ... and one denied to all residents. Again, only Jev has the true authority to wipe a name from the book." "Has it happened before?" "Oh yes," Lucifer replied. "Several times, actually. Back before there was a Lake of Fire, souls would wander around the place, and those who discovered the Registration were quick to learn its secrets. Even now, one or two souls manage to fight their way out of the Lake every century or so. Each one has attempted to erase themselves. The book remains with Pixley, though, and a weakened human soul has no 296
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power over Hell's curator. It doesn't bother Jev too much—he knows these things happen." "So what happened with me?" Grayson looked down, holding out his hands. All fingers were accounted for, as was the hairline scar he'd received at age four after his mother had prematurely slammed the car door shut. "I—did Jev let me out?" Lucifer chuckled richly. "No." "Then—" "Luxuria struck your name from the Registration. By all accounts, you no longer exist." Grayson stared at him blankly for a long moment. Around him, the cafe hummed with life. People chatted and ate, and the sun beamed down in all its radiant glory. "What?" "Luxuria sacrificed her life for yours," Lucifer explained. "She broke one of the larger rules, and she did so because the thought of you in Hell was unbearable for her. She knows what consequences her actions will bring, and she doesn't care. She merely wanted you free." Several things happened at once. His heart, his very alive heart, began thundering as though in the midst of a heavy marathon. Every muscle in his tired body tightened, and tears flooded his eyes. Hot, messy, free-flowing tears. Webster's didn't have a strong enough word for gratitude—a wealth of confused, jumbled emotion formed into a cloud and began forcing itself from his belly to his throat. After everything, Luxi was the reason he was out. Luxi had saved him from something worse than the human mind could comprehend, and she'd done so... 297
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He didn't realize he was sobbing in earnest until he felt a hand on his shoulder. The devil held out a tissue. "There, there." "Oh god..." "Appropriate choice of words, if you ask me." "She... Where is she?" "She should be dead," Lucifer said sullenly. "Dead dead. No one is to touch the Registration aside from Jev, Pixley and myself. And yet..." "Dead? No, no, no, no, she can't be—" The devil held up a hand. "Relax. Luxuria is fine. As we speak, I believe she has retired to her condo in Hell's Bells and is awaiting my arrival, and her subsequent punishment." Grayson rubbed a swollen, tender eye. "Are you going to? Punish her? You can't. Please, no, I'll give whatever—" "You're not exactly in a position to bargain," Lucifer said dryly. "As I said, Mr. Bailey, you technically don't exist." "Then where... I don't get it." "Of course you don't. Neither will Luxuria, at first. Pixley isn't exactly a pushover. Once I learned you were sent to my domain rather than Jev's, predicting Luxuria's next move wasn't difficult." Lucifer cleared his throat. "Especially since I was tipped off by her brother. Don't be offended—Gula just loves his sister very much, and couldn't stand the thought of her sacrificing herself for the likes of, well, you." Grayson nodded. He understood as well as he could. "Pixley wasn't happy, either, when I told her to allow Luxuria right to the book." The devil grinned. "She put up a reasonable, if not weak fight, but her anger was authentic." 298
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"I think I'm still missing something. If I'm not real, how am I here?" "Because I wanted to talk with you, and I am accustomed to getting my way." "And you ... you're the devil." The word felt heavy on his tongue, though Grayson had uttered it many times over his career. "Somehow... Why don't I feel it?" "My big bad evilness?" Lucifer's eyes narrowed. "The afterlife is different from anything you can reasonably experience in the human world, and since your afterlife has ended, the greater questions are no longer questions. You see me as I am. A man. A very old, very flawed, very powerful man, but a man nonetheless. This whole black and white, good versus bad nonsense is just that. Nonsense. I am not a saint, by any means, but neither is Jev. You and your relatives, friends, fellow humans were created in his image. If he were perfectly good, it'd stand to reason you would be as well." "But he's not." "No one is, Grayson." For whatever reason, use of his given name seemed to drive the devil's point home. "We are what we are. I have my job to do, and it involves watching over those souls unworthy of standing on Heaven's doorstep. It's a position that assumes more responsibility and patience than you can imagine, even now. Why would Jev give that job to anyone he didn't trust?" Grayson thought about it for a moment, but it didn't require much concentration. As Lucifer had said, he found most of the greater questions had been answered, or no 299
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longer seemed important. "Seems more Greek than anything else," he found himself muttering. Lucifer chuckled. "For all the Greeks got wrong, there were things they understood." "So evil ... doesn't exist." "Of course it exists," the devil replied. "Just not the way you imagine it. Absolute evil of the Voldemort nature lives only in the hearts of man, not where I come from. I am merely the person to whom the buck is passed." "And that's how it is." He nodded. "That's how it is. We all do our best. Sometimes our best isn't good enough. All we can do is hope it is." Odd beauty lived in those words. Grayson drew in a deep breath, doing his best to assess everything, and said, "All right. You aren't good or evil, just ... you. And the same goes for G—Big J." "Correct," said Lucifer. "And I'm here because you wanted to see me before I went on to ... nothing." "Yes." "Why?" "Because I'm at an impasse." The devil splayed his hands. "The Sin of Lust is in mourning, and even with her, I am one Sin short of a full deck. You no longer exist, and if you choose to continue on into ... well, nothing, you've earned the right to that decision. But should you find yourself conflicted, there is an alternative." "I'm all ears." 300
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"I thought you might be. You see, I am in need of a Sin of Greed." "A Sin of Greed." "Avaritia's old seat," Lucifer said. "I can't run Hell very well without my Sins, and the Binsfeld Boys, sad to say, were never up on my list of serious contenders." "The what boys?" "A story for another time. You see, you can no longer exist as human, and the only other option is this. All or nothing, as it were. Blink out of existence now and forever, or live eternally in Hell ... only without the death and torture part." At once, Grayson's heart was racing again. He sat up. "And Luxi?" "Well, that's up to her. I hesitate to presume anything." Lucifer's eyes twinkled when he grinned. "What do you say, Reverend?" His mind raced so fast it was no longer his. How quickly could he be with her, the woman he loved? Fall to her feet and beg forgiveness for the terrible things he'd said? The debt was one he could never repay, but with forever he could at least try. Yet for everything, there was a second's hesitation. The moment between the present and forever, the knowledge whatever he did would set himself on a path from which he would abruptly end or could never escape. Heaven, Hell, God and the devil ... these weren't childhood tales to him, and they never had been. Regardless of what he'd learned or how readily he believed it—and he did—the fact remained that Lucifer was Lucifer and Big J was ... whoever Big J was. And 301
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Luxi had deceived him, though not as he thought, and not by her own accord. Then there was the life he'd left behind, the one he had yet to even consider mourning, and couldn't return to no matter what. Friends he'd never see, family he'd never again hug. The election—damn, had he truly been concerned about an election? There were fundamental truths he'd accepted, and others he'd built as he went along his way. No matter what had transpired between him and Luxi in that last conversation, those things he knew about himself remained absolute. Those things he knew about her, every word he'd ever spoken regarding her character, the things he'd meant before he'd released the ugliness he hadn't meant... Eternity was a long time. He couldn't chance not spending it with her. Going back was impossible—the future was all that mattered. "Yes," he said. "Please." Lucifer smiled. "Something told me that would be your answer." Nothing in her condo felt right. The furniture, the cabinets, the paintings she'd commissioned off some of the world's most notorious artists—all after their passing, of course. It seemed a chapter out of someone else's life ... perhaps because she knew her time here was limited. Lucifer would come for her soon. It was only a matter of time. Luxi had honestly expected it to be instant—death triggered immediately when ink touched the Registration. Instead, the seconds after crossing off Grayson's name had been empty and anticlimactic. Were it not for Invi, Luxi 302
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doubted she would have made it out of the Unholy Damned with her head still on her shoulders. Hours had passed since Grayson stopped existing. In that time, Luxi had said her goodbyes to her siblings—all except Ava, and only for the fact that she didn't want to ruin her sister's honeymoon. She had also caught up on the news after phoning in a request to Hell's cable provider, who added local news channels for Springfield, Missouri, without asking questions. She watched Grayson's political opponent, Walter Church, wax elegant words regarding his slain colleague, and vow that this sort of violence would not be abided. He even made the vow to take three of Grayson's campaign promises and adopt them as his own. John spoke as well, looking like a shell of his former self. Nina stood behind him at the podium, shaking and crying. Luxi wished she could mourn with them. John might not have been her favorite person, but he knew as well as she did the sort of person Grayson truly was, and how the world, knowingly or not, suffered his loss. When the knock finally came, she was ready—or as ready as she could be. Luxi wiped her palms along her thighs, rose to wobbly feet, and made the long walk toward death. She felt detached from herself, as though her mind had already passed on to oblivion and her body had nothing to do but catch up. Moments away from quiet, from the eternal peace of blissful nothingness. Yet the face on the other side of the door wasn't Lucifer's. 303
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Luxi froze, numb shock saturating through her worn, tired body. She wanted to blink or speak but couldn't get her body to cooperate. At once her heart tightened and the tears she'd managed to keep from coming welled again in her abused eyes. "You will not believe the day I've had," Grayson said, wearing a small, hopeful grin. She stared a beat longer before the ground returned to her feet. The immediate high crashed without warning and sent shards of razor-sharp awareness through her. Luxi inhaled sharply, her jaw tightening. Of all the spiteful things Lucifer could have done to make this last meeting painful, appearing to her as her lost lover was something she'd thought beneath him. Apparently she thought too highly of the devil. "I know you're here to kill me, Boss," she said. "But could you not be such a fucking dick about it?" The smile fell from Grayson's face. "Well, that was unexpected." "Coming here ... looking like him..." Fury hardened her veins, the tears she fought spilling coldly down her cheeks. "Oh, Luxi..." Then he was against her, cupping her cheeks, skin on skin. He wore Grayson's eyes, smiled with Grayson's lips, touched her with Grayson's fingers, and when he kissed her, a startling awareness crept through her insides. One being Lucifer would never kiss her, especially not like this—too damned incestuous—and two, Lucifer could be an ass, but he wouldn't openly mock her pain, thus her first conclusion was 304
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erroneous. Yet the alternative was impossible... Grayson couldn't... Luxi gasped, her mouth breaking away from his. "Oh holy fuck." "My thoughts exactly," Grayson whispered. "How is this happening?" "First things first." His fingers funneled through her hair, massaging her scalp as he showered her face with kisses. "Luxi, I am so sorry." "What?" "Everything happened so fast. I didn't... The things I said..." She gripped his forearms. "I've never heard of an apologetic hallucination." "I'm not a hallucination." "You have to be. I killed you." Grayson made a face. "I think that's something we can all agree you didn't do. I-I still haven't wrapped my mind around all this. What happened between us, the rally. A shot and then ... pain. And then no pain, because of you." He brushed her hair out of her eyes. "I love you so much." Her vision blurred again. "Stop." "I wanted you to trust me, and when you did, I shit all over it." She sniffed. "God, stop making me sound like such a fucking pansy. You think I hadn't heard that shit before?" "Not from me." "How are you here?" 305
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"You. You crossed my name out of ... some book, or something." "To destroy you." "To save me." Luxi shrugged, wiping her cheeks irritably. God, if she never cried another fucking tear... "Same diff." "In this case, yes." "Fuck, I hate this emotional shit." Grayson grinned. "I know. I'll run through this as quick as possible. I can't exist as a human anymore, but your boss— well, my boss now—gave me a choice." "Your boss?" Sense was not being made. Point of fact, it ran in the opposite direction. "What the hell have you done?" "Well, there was a job opening. Your sister's old job." Luxi blinked dumbly. She could see immediately where this was headed, but it made no sense. Nothing computed. "What?" "He made me a Sin." "What?" The word seemed stuck on repeat. "How could he make you a Sin? I ... but..." The world had been turned on its head. "You're not supposed to be real." "I take it you're upset then?" For whatever reason, that set her over the edge. Innocuous, or seemingly so, but enough to knock her from the dazed, strange place she currently inhabited and into a more comfortable area of anger and offense. "Upset?" she barked. "Upset you're, what? Not dead? Not gone? How can you ask me that? I love you, you fucking ass! I love you so much I was willing to sacrifice myself to make sure you didn't 306
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suffer. And I'm a big fan of me, so that's a big fucking deal. And you come here and ask if I'm—" Grayson was on her again, mouth ravaging, hands wandering, pushing her back into the living area of her condo. Whatever fight she had in her evaporated on the spot. God, he tasted good. Like coming home after a long, brutal winter, engulfing her in warmth she hadn't known existed and therefore couldn't miss until it was gone. Clothing became an annoyance she couldn't afford, and in seconds the intrusive fabric covering both their bodies was gone. Flesh on flesh, hand to hand and heart to heart. "You want this?" Luxi said off the tail of a gasp. "Me. Hell. Lucifer. You chose this. You remember who you are, right?" "I chose you," Grayson corrected, dipping a hand between them and cupping her pussy. "Everything else is a part of the package deal." "You chose me." "How many times do I need to say it?" She grasped his cock and gave it a playful squeeze. "Lots." "I chose you." "Good." "And your assignments?" Grayson grinned, walking her back until her legs hit her couch. Then she was tumbling over, bouncing on cushions. Her thighs lay open, knees crooked over the sofa arm. His nimble fingers were on her in an instant, stroking her clit and spreading her juices over her folds. "Some things are changing." "Oh yeah?" 307
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He nodded. "There's just me. No one else from here on sees you like this." "Lucifer will never—" "His idea." Luxi's eyebrows shot up. "He—" "It was our deal. His and mine." "You're going to have to explain this to me, you know." "I know," Grayson replied, lowering his head until he was nose-to-nose with her girly parts. "But if it's all the same to you, I don't feel like talking right now." She wiggled her hips. "Well, I think your mouth could use some exercise. Better find a use for it." "Watch it, woman. This new body comes with all kinds of new stamina." "Prove it." "With pleasure." A purely sinful smirk spread across his lips, disappearing only when his tongue dipped to tease her swollen clitoris. "I have a lot to make up for," he said, slipping a finger inside her. "Think this is a good place to start?" "I'm a proponent of the good ole college try." Grayson chuckled, nuzzling her wet flesh. "I love you." "Prove it." "I intend to. Now and for the rest of forever." A different, warmer sensation began trickling through her body. Slowly at first, and then with speed she couldn't quite understand. Someday, she supposed, someday soon, she'd know exactly what had transpired. What had happened in those moments between the library and now, and what she'd done, in all her transgressions, to earn this moment. Lucifer 308
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would explain, and she'd listen. But that was another time coming. Grayson was hers. Really hers. No strings attached. And he wasn't going anywhere. Luxi sighed contentedly and fisted a handful of his hair. "Little less talk." "And a lot more action." "I like the way you think." "I love everything about you." "Mutual. Now shut up and eat me." Grayson laughed. "Yes, ma'am." [Back to Table of Contents]
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Epilogue When the knock came, he responded with a solemn, "Come in," without looking up. Lucian, his body double and personal assistant, opened the office door promptly, escorting in a very sour-looking curator. The Registration, of course, remained with her, floating obediently just behind her head. She didn't say anything; she wouldn't unless directly addressed. Lucifer didn't provide any bait. His decision was final—no amount of appeals to logic or order or whatever else would do anything to budge it. Instead, the devil nodded at Lucian. Let him do the talking. "Pixley," Lucian said, "the King of Hell has requested a half hour with the Registration." "I know," Pixley replied stiffly. "May I again express my extreme objection—" Lucifer rolled his eyes; Lucian got the message, and was quick to interrupt her. "I believe your objection has been noted"—a brief glance at his clipboard—"seventy-three times now." Pixley pouted. "It hasn't sunk in, obviously. Sir, you know Big J will hit the roof when he discovers names are missing—" "Quiet," Lucian snarled. "This could start something beyond our comprehension, the likes of which we—" "Enough," Lucifer replied; while the word wasn't shouted, that didn't undermine the nature of the command. "Please leave the Registration on my desk. And, Pixley, I am well 310
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aware of my actions. When the other shoe drops, rest assured it will be on me and me alone. I do not intend to start any holy wars—rather take something I am owed. Is that clear?" The curator nodded, her head bowed. "Yes, sir." The devil smiled. "Also, you are to allow Jev an audience with me when he requests it. I assume we'll be hearing from our friend soon." "Yes, sir," she repeated. "There's a good girl." Lucifer favored her with a thin smile as she handed over the Registration. The book, trained to his touch, hummed beneath his fingers. "Now then," he said, flipping it open. "Time to do some editing." The End About the Author: A lifelong enthusiast of larger than life characters, Rosalie Stanton's muse is fueled by alpha males, from badass bikers to scruffy-looking Nerf herders, and the intelligent, strong, and independent women who actually do the driving. She loves interweaving the lives of people who appear to be polar opposites and delving beneath the surface to see how well one actually complements the other. Rosalie lives in Missouri with her husband. Writing is her first creative love, but she also enjoys working with other authors and has a variety of critique partners, and likewise works for Mundania Press LLC as an editor. At an early age, she discovered a talent for creating worlds into which she could escape. Over the years, her vivid imagination evolved 311
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into a love of words and storytelling. Rosalie graduated with a degree in English. Neither writing nor editing pays the bills, but thankfully her day-job employers understand where her true passion lies. When her attention is not engaged by writing or editing, she enjoys spending time with close friends and family.
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