I Married a Demon Read online

  “Our family’s not big on get-togethers.” He locked eyes with Blake, then dropped his gaze. Michael’s smile weakened. “Plus, we haven’t stayed in touch over the past few years, which I admit was mainly my fault.”

  The expression I caught on Blake’s face made my heart lurch. Gone was the delight I’d noticed minutes earlier. Instead, I realized their past held a secret that had kept my husband from telling me about his brother. Yet how could I get angry at him for keeping a secret? Hiding my own secrets meant not having the right to get mad about his.

  “Michael’s going to join us for dinner.” The happiness I’d seen earlier reappeared on Blake’s features and in his body language.

  “Oh, sure. Great.” Like I could say anything else? Besides, I wanted time to get to know my new-found brother-in-law. I slapped on a pleasant expression and morphed into Susie Homemaker. “I can’t promise the dinner will be tasty, but I’ll do my best to mix up something edible. Of course, you may have to sign a release promising not to sue me when you get violently ill.” I laughed at my own joke and Blake joined me.

  Michael’s expression told me he’d already guessed I wouldn’t give Rachel Ray any cause to worry about her cooking empire, and he didn’t care. Yet I kept the sappy smile on my face and turned toward the kitchen.

  “How about pouring us some wine, honey?”

  I stumbled a bit at Blake’s unusual request, but managed to keep going. Well, what did I expect? Act like a dutiful wife and I’d get treated like a dutiful wife. “Coming up, sweetheart.” The “sweetheart” was a nudge to let Blake know not to take this chauvinistic husband thing too far.

  “Want some help?”

  Ah, there was the Blake I knew and loved. My tone softened, letting him off the hook. “No, no. You stay with Michael. I’m sure you two want to catch up.”

  I hurried through the sitting room, pushed through the kitchen door and made for the refrigerator. Luck was with me. I opened the freezer section and found a family-size frozen dinner of lasagna. Silently thanking Blake for having added the item during his last trip to the grocery store, I tossed the plastic container into the microwave and punched away. Now all I needed to do was throw together a salad and I’d have dinner served in no time.

  I selected a bottle from the wine rack over the counter, then took three of our best wine glasses from the cupboard. I removed the cork and poured the ruby liquid into the glasses. I didn’t know if this wine was a good vintage or not, but I figured it couldn’t be too bad since Blake had chosen it. He knew his wines and chose only the best. Me? I wouldn’t know a good wine from a jug of food-colored beer.

  I took a sip and wondered again why Blake had never mentioned a brother. Although I was fairly certain I owned most of the skeletons in our closet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Blake’s total was adding up fast.

  I tore into the lettuce, added peppers, onions and mushrooms to the bowl. Even though I felt I should make home-made dressing, I decided Brother Michael could settle for store-bought version like the rest of us. Still, I tried compensating for my bottled vinaigrette by placing the wine on a silver tray to add a bit of class to the presentation. I pushed my shoulder to go through the swinging door and headed toward the living room.

  Again, hearing their voices brought me up short. Gone were the irritated tones of the earlier conversation. Now I heard the anger in their lowered voices and I abruptly changed directions, sloshing the wine onto the floor. A stain on my new carpet, however, was the last thing on my mind. Instead of rushing for the spot cleanser, I cozied up to the nearest wall to eavesdrop.

  “Michael, you can’t go on like this.” Even in a whisper, I could hear the pain and frustration in his tone.

  “Will you back off? This is why I don’t visit you. You can’t change the past, man. Nothing you do can change what I am.”

  “But it’s my fault. I’m the reason it happened to you.”

  I could hear the tremendous guilt Blake felt about his brother’s problem—whatever his problem was. Putting the tray on the nearby bookcase, I peeked around the corner. Blake stood with his hands held in front of him in an imploring manner. Michael moved away from him to stand near the window.

  “How it happened doesn’t matter any longer. I’m fine with what I am.”

  What he was? I frowned and tried to understand why he’d used those specific words. Was what he was more important than who he was? Or was it merely a slip of the tongue?

  “No, you’re not.”

  Blake approached his brother, making Michael move away from him and in my direction. I held my breath and flattened my spine against the wall, hoping I hadn’t gotten caught. Deciding to go on the offensive, I snatched up the tray and stepped around the corner, into the room and into the conversation.

  “Hey, you two. Having fun catching up?” I forced a smile as I scanned from my husband to his brother. “Dinner’s in the oven and here’s the wine.” I purposely moved between the two of them and offered a drink to Michael.

  “Uh, I’m sorry, Jenn. I can’t stay.” Michael glanced at Blake and quickly returned his attention to me. “I forgot about an appointment. I was telling Blake the same thing when you walked in.”

  I didn’t have to fake my disappointment since I really wanted him to stay. How else would I find out what the problem was? Placing the drink tray on the large coffee table, I threw my husband a quizzical look and put on my best disappointed-but-optimistic expression. “Are you sure? Couldn’t you reschedule? I mean, I haven’t had time to get to know—”

  “No, I’m sorry. We’ll have to get acquainted some other night. If you’ll invite me back, of course.”

  “Of course you’re invited. You’re Blake’s brother. You’re welcome in our home anytime.” I heard a sound behind me and turned to wonder if my hubby had actually growled at me. “Blake?” But he wasn’t paying attention to me. I whirled around to see my brother-in-law’s image waver. Instead of a handsome young man, the image of a sickly mud-colored ghoul flashed before me. His rolls of fat dripped with slime and the chiseled face morphed into a fang-incrusted mouth with two beady eyes glaring above it. The vision lasted less than a second, but long enough for me to reach into my pocket for the small knife I always carried.

  “Are you okay, Jenn? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  Nope. A ghoul. But the image vanished, replaced by my good-looking brother-in-law who stared at me as if I’d grown a third boob. I shook my head to deny the ghostly sighting and to clear my head of the vision. Could I be hallucinating? Could I be mistaking an innocent mortal person for an evil creature, as I’d done with the priest? Not wanting my new-found in-law to think I was crazy, I laughed it off. “A ghost? Nope. Not me.”

  “Good to know.” His grin warmed me almost as much as Blake’s always did.

  I hadn’t seen a ghost. But had I seen a ghoul? And if I had, I’d made a crucial mistake. I’d invited him into my house at a later time. Even though Blake had undoubtedly done the same, I felt stupid for my mistake.

  Everyone knows a vampire can’t enter your home without an invitation, but not many people know the same holds true for ghouls. Either I’d hallucinated or I’d invited a real ghoul into my home. Great. Just great.

  “Well, I’d better get going.” Michael gave me one last searching look before wheeling around on his heel and heading toward the front door. Blake rushed after him leaving me to plop down on the couch and down a glass of wine. If I’d known what was going to happen next, I’d have chugged the whole damn bottle.

  “Can we drop it?”

  Blake placed the glass of wine on his nightstand and I decided this wasn’t the time to remind him to use coasters. “Sure. No problem. We won’t discuss the white elephant in the room. We won’t discuss your brother and the obvious problem between you two.” I made my best frown and hoped it would work like it had many times before when I’d wanted him to see things my way.

  “Thanks, I’d appreciate it.”

&n
bsp; His tone was even yet, unlike every night since we’d met, he didn’t lean over me to kiss me and wish me sweet dreams. Was this our first lovers’ quarrel? “Don’t you recognize sarcasm when you hear it?”

  “Don’t you recognize when a man doesn’t want to talk anymore?”

  Damn, where had this jerk come from? This wasn’t the kind, good-natured man I’d married. I started to complain, but decided it wasn’t worth it. Besides, didn’t most couples have times when they couldn’t stand each other? I chalked it up to the honeymoon’s demise and sat on the end of the bed. Had we rushed into marriage? Maybe, but I wasn’t giving up yet. I still loved the big lug even though I felt like braining him with a lamp.

  “I’m sorry, Jenn. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

  He ran his fingertips through my hair and lifted my face, forcing me to gaze up at him. Those charcoal eyes told me my sweet husband had returned and wanted to placate me. I’ve always liked being placated.

  “It’s all right. I know I’m pushing, but from the way you two were talking, a blind man could tell you guys have a problem.”

  Blake sat on the bed next to me and wrapped his arm around my waist. “Well, sure, a blind man could tell. The question is…could a deaf man?”

  His jokes were usually pretty lame, but I liked them. I smothered a giggle and leaned into him. “Okay, I know I’m new at this married thing, but I’m guessing this is one of those times when a wife ought to butt out.”

  He nibbled on my earlobe, which relaxed and stimulated me at the same time. Yup, it’s possible.

  “And you have such a great butt.” His hand slipped from my waist to cup my ample ass cheek. “In fact, everything about you is great.” Pushing with his body, he put me on my back and snuggled next to me.

  “Even my nosy nose?” I tugged on his shirt and it was gone before I knew it. My pants followed shortly after, along with the rest of our clothes. He always did have a magic touch for getting my clothes off before I realized what had happened.

  “Especially your nose.” His thumb rubbed my erect nipple and scoured the rest of my body with his hot gaze. “Okay, maybe not especially your nose.”

  His mouth found mine and our tongues intertwined, making me sigh. Not being the shy type, I guided his hand to where I wanted his fingers to play. Spreading my legs, he obliged me, stroking my clit until my hips started squirming on their own.

  “I need you, Jenn.” He studied my reaction. “I’m not sure you know how much I need you.”

  Okay, it’s a fact I’m not very proud of, but I’m not good in serious emotional conversations. Whenever a conversation starts heading down the paths of Serious Talk and Emotional Discussion, I tend to make a joke to lighten the mood. I mimicked Groucho Marx and glanced at his penis. “Uh, wrong, bucko. I can see how much you need me.”

  Sometimes my stupid jokes worked and sometimes they didn’t. This time it worked.

  “I sure do, Groucho.” The somber expression in his eyes melted away, replaced by the twinkle I knew so well. “And let me say, you’ve gotten a whole lot better looking since you died.”

  “I guess being undead can do wonders for a person.”

  We both paused, caught off guard by my remark. One thing I didn’t want to do was to talk about the undead. But what was Blake’s reason for the strange expression on his face?

  His odd expression didn’t last long. Instead, he laughed and pulled me to him. Sliding on top of him, I positioned his shaft directly under the cleft in my legs and rubbed against him, teasing both of us. But, knowing neither one of us could withstand the temptation too long, I stretched my body over his and placed my breasts—the size of which I’ve already detailed—above his mouth. He took full advantage of their proximity.

  I moaned and moved my breasts across his face. Like a man bobbing for breasts, he tried to catch one of my nipples with his mouth. Fortunately for me, he’s very good at playing catch. I sat back, lowering myself onto his shaft and wiggled against his pulsating probe, rising far enough to make him think I would allow him entry.

  “Stop teasing me, woman.”

  “Woman? Say my name the way I like you to say it and maybe I’ll be your woman.”

  “You are my woman.” He trailed his tongue over my nipple as if marking his territory. “Jenn.” The low sexy growl of his tone banked the fire inside me.

  “Then show me. Grab my ass and make me yours.”

  He growled and followed my order. Taking each cheek—the ones without the blush on them—he pushed me high enough for his oh-so-talented shaft to enter me. At the feel of him shoving deep inside me, I sat up, placing my hands on his chest to enjoy the sensation of his hard-muscled pecs. Our combined humping made my breasts bounce and jiggle and his gaze seared their mark on them.

  I admit it. I like being on top. Riding a man is more fun, more pleasurable than riding anything else I can name. Even my jag. And Blake is one helluva ride.

  I rocked back and forth, up and down, and clenched the muscles of my vagina. He decided tasting wasn’t enough and took my bouncing breasts in his hands. Simply by watching the passion in each other’s face, I climaxed more times than I could count. Blake, however, was a pro at holding his own and I could see the determination in his face.

  Once again my juices spilled over him and I tensed up, threw my head back and shouted the Big O to the world. Blake climaxed along with me, his voice mixing with mine. Collapsing against him, I smiled like a happy female who knows her life can’t get much better. Who could ask for more than a great man and a fulfilling job? Or was it a great job and a fulfilling man? Hell, put a horny, sexy man underneath me and I’m in paradise. Nope, nix that. Put this horny, sexy man underneath me and I’d never ask for another thing in my entire life.

  “Jenn?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I need to get that.”

  “Get what?”

  “The phone.” With a kiss to the top of my head, Blake slid me off him, scrambled to his side of the bed and grabbed the phone.

  Although I knew the Society would never contact me via phone, I began making up reasonable-sounding excuses for getting an emergency buyer-wants-to-see-the-house call after hours.

  “Hello? Yeah, it’s me. What?”

  I crawled closer to him and tried to overhear the other side of the conversation. Blake, however, gave me an irritated look and stood to move away from the bed. Sending him an expression of mixed emotions—hurt and confusion with an ounce of annoyance—I stayed where I was. After all, chasing him around the room wouldn’t solve anything.

  “Now?”

  “Now what?”

  He ignored my question and crossed to the other side of the room. “Okay, okay. I’m coming. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. I, um, need to wrap up a bit of business here first.” He clicked the phone off, tossed the receiver on top of the bed and started putting on his clothes.

  A bit of business? Scooting off the bed, I crossed to the side chair and snatched up my robe to wrap it around me. Taking a deep, hopefully calming breath, I turned to take issue with the way my husband had described our lovemaking. “Oh, I didn’t realize. Our making hot lusty sex is business now?” Okay, I knew I was being overly sensitive, but I didn’t care. Using the word business to describe our sex would never be okay.

  Blake moved toward the door, pausing to question my overreaction. “You’re kidding, right? Come on, Jenn, I wasn’t about to tell him I’d was in the middle of having sex with my wife. My gorgeous, understanding wife.”

  “Don’t try flattering me. Who was on the phone? Why are you getting dressed? Where are you going?”

  He took a step toward me and then reversed his direction. “I’ve got to meet with a client who needs some expert advice.”

  Was he joking? Nope. Blake didn’t joke about business. His business, anyway. “A client? What kind of investment advice happens at night?” I hid the cringe I felt when I realized he was using an emergency after-hours client call like the one I’d s
tarted formulating in my mind. “You’re not taking a client to a strip club, are you?”

  “A strip club? Hey, not a bad idea.”

  I tossed a pillow at him. “Think again, big guy.”

  He caught it and tossed it over my head. “He’s a very important client. And hey, investing never stops. Remember, lots of investors go for the overseas markets.” He paused at the door and tilted his head toward the front of the house. “Someone’s at the door. Can you grab it? I’m going out the back way.”

  I heard his steps as he headed toward the back of the house. Pulling my robe around me, I went the opposite direction.

  Being the cautious type, I first peeked through the side glass panels next to the front door. Satisfied no demon─or another unmentioned relative─lurked on the other side, I pulled the door open, turned my back on the person standing there and walked into the living room. Of course Myra followed. My mind kept running Blake’s excuse through my head and alarms pounded an accompanying rhythm.

  “I know it’s getting late and all, Jenn, but I couldn’t help it. Look!”

  Although I wasn’t in the mood and my mind was totally occupied with Blake, I whirled around to scan my friend’s plump figure, odd-sixties-type clothing and excited face. What did she expect me to see? “I give. What am I supposed to look at?” Why was everyone playing games with me tonight?

  Myra clucked her tongue at my lack of fashion sense and stuck out her arm. “Check out my new bangles. The new twenty-four-hour flea market on West Street is an absolute treasure. I bought all of this for only four dollars.”

  Although fashion isn’t my thing, I tried to appear interested. A group of brightly colored bracelets jangled on her arm and each finger sparkled with a cheap ring. Myra was into cheap stuff, even if it turned her skin green. “Oh, hey, yeah. I love the, uh, rings.” But Blake was all I could think about. “Oh, yeah, cool. Great.”