Demon Lover

Demon Lover Kate Hill All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2004 by Kate Hill

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Editor: Sheri Ross Carucci Cover Artist: Sahara Kelly

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Prologue Sparks shot from John’s ax each time it struck the trunk of the steel tree. Every blow jolted through his aching arms and rang in his ears, yet he almost welcomed the racket. He’d lost track of how long he’d dwelled in the steel forest, chopping tree after tree without pause for food, water, or sleep. His demon’s body could survive for decades without rest or sustenance. If he ceased chopping long enough, the bleeding sores on his palms would heal and his muscles would almost magically stop aching. Unfortunately he must continue the drudgery until given the order to halt. All around him, the smooth gray trees stretched for miles. As punishment for his crimes, John labored alone, chopping steel trees in Satan’s forest, only ceasing when sent to collect yet another evil soul to toil in Hell. “Hello, John.” The sneering voice echoed throughout the forest and made John’s skin prickle with disgust. Pausing, he listened to his own panting breath in the stillness. Sweat dripped into his eyes and trickled down his torso, soaking into the wet waistband of his black trousers. He waited for the voice to continue. Usually when Bee called, it was to send him on one of his gruesome missions. “Oh, John, your services are required. Won’t it be nice to go home again?” “Home, Bee?” John curled his lip. The little bastard loved playing with people. Three-hundred-forty-eight years ago, John had been far more gullible. The first few times Bee had promised him a meeting with his sister or even a chance to escape from Hell, he had actually believed him. At first he had looked forward to visiting the mortal world, but eventually the illusion shattered. Without friends or family, the world was a lonely place. People feared him and kept their distance. It was as if they sensed the evil inside him and

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instinctively stayed away. Never again would he experience the comfort and total relaxation of sleep, to close his eyes in complete surrender. Perhaps worst of all was his inability to fully enjoy lovemaking. He could pleasure women and feel intense sexual stimulation, yet climax eluded him. “Can’t you think of a better story than that?” “It’s not a story. Your hometown reeks of evil. Our master has been smelling it for quite some time now and he wants it. You go get it for him, John, and this time there might be something in it for you.” “Beelzebub, leave us,” said a soft, musical voice. It sent a tingle down John’s spine and filled him with such warmth that he nearly panicked. After so many years in Hell, nothing touched him anymore. What sort of evil had Bee conjured that could stir his emotions again? The voice continued. “Once a soul is condemned to Hell, it is rarely allowed a chance for redemption. There are sometimes cases of a good soul doing evil, and though it is not condoned, under special circumstances it may be given the opportunity to move on, providing certain specifications are met.” John closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. “It’s not going to work, Bee. I no longer believe in fairy tales.” “Bee is gone. His kind cannot abide me.” “I suppose you’re from up there?” “I’m from everywhere. I know no bounds. Listen carefully to what I tell you, John Standcliff. Fulfill the task set for you and send the evil in your hometown to Hell. Do it without harming an innocent soul, and you will be freed from Satan’s realm and allowed your chance at redemption.” John laughed humorlessly. “You don’t give up, do you, Bee?” “Believe what you will, but you have only this one opportunity.” “Oh, just one?” John’s voice dripped sarcasm. “At least in this millennium. You’re not the only demon in Hell who deserves a second chance.” “Then give one of them my turn. I don’t want it.”

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“I understand why you don’t believe me, but keep my offer in mind during your return to the world of the living. If I’m lying, then you’ll be no worse off than you are now, but if I’m telling the truth…” The voice faded. Moments later, Bee appeared beside John. He was nothing more than a dark cloud, loosely resembling the shape of a man. Bee shuddered. “Glad she’s gone. Now. Are you ready to get to work?” “Who am I after this time?” “As usual, I can’t give you too many details. After all, I’m not supposed to be catching the soul. That’s your job.” “Bee…” “It’s a serial killer. Here’s his scent.” Bee’s cloudy black hand swept beneath John’s nose. The faint aroma was all a demon required to track his prey. “While you’re there, why don’t you break your own rules and hack apart some humans? The master loves it when his demons terrorize the living.” “Just send me out of here so I can get this over with.” Blackness enveloped John, and in those dark moments between Hell and Earth, he absorbed the details of his new identity and a crash course on life in the twenty-first century.

Chapter One Corinne Rogerio stared out of the diner’s window toward the old cemetery across the street. Far behind it stood the house where the Swift brothers had lived. Her belly fluttered with excitement. This was the first time she had ever traveled to gather firsthand information for a book. Usually her novels developed from personal fantasies and were never inspired by fact. While flipping through a magazine several weeks ago, she’d found an article about a massacre of a Maine family in 1656. The story involved a romance between the eldest of three brothers and a farm girl. The story piqued Corinne’s interest so much she began researching the tragedy. Now here she was, with only a single street separating her from the churchyard where the Swift brothers and Emily Standcliff were buried. The darkness had kept her from fully exploring the cemetery when she arrived the previous night. Though she wanted to hurry there before breakfast, she decided to prolong her anticipation. This book was so important to her she longed to savor every moment of its creation. “There you are.” The waitress slipped a plate of blueberry pancakes in front of Corinne. “The house special.” “Thanks. They look great.” “You’re Murphy Rogerio’s little sister, aren’t you?” “Yes.” “I’m Alberta. Murphy’s a regular here. Great guy.” “Nice to meet you. I’m Corinne.” “Murphy tells us you’re a writer. He talks about you a lot.” Corinne smiled, glad to know her brother hadn’t completely forgotten her since he moved out of Texas. “Does he?”

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Murphy, Corinne’s brother, a detective on the town police force, had moved to Maine several years ago. She was staying with him while completing her research. Corinne had missed her brother since he left Texas, but she understood his desire to start a new life for himself somewhere else. Growing up, the siblings had been very close. When Murphy reached his late teens, he’d started to change, become withdrawn. Corinne attributed his behavior to the death of his girlfriend. Only after he moved away and pursued a career in law enforcement did he seem to recover from the depression that had plagued him since Colby’s death. “He said you’re here doing research or something.”

“I’m studying the Swift murders.”

“Really? Our own little ghost story.”

“It’s no story, girls.”

Corinne and the waitress glanced toward the grill where the cook had paused in

flipping pancakes and scrambling eggs. Alberta raised her eyes to heaven. “Dick swears he saw the ghost of John Standcliff.” Corinne’s interest stirred. “The guy who murdered the Swifts with an ax?” “That’s him. I seen him, I tell ya.” “Just keep flipping those cakes, Dick, and lay off the beer.” “I wasn’t drunk when I seen him.” “Tell me more,” Corinne said. “It was the middle of last week around eleven o’clock, just after I locked up the diner. There was lots of rain and fog, but I still seen him walking in the cemetery across the way. He was a big son of a bitch, just like my grandfather used to describe him in the stories he told when I was a kid. Tall with shoulders like one of those television wrestlers. He must have needed them shoulders to swing that ax he was carrying.” Alberta curled her lip. “With all that rain and fog you don’t think your eyes might have been playing tricks on you?”

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“It was him, I tell you. Who else would be walking through that cemetery carrying an ax?” “The groundskeeper.” “Sully? The boy’s five foot five and weighs a hundred pounds soaking wet.” “Think you can use Dick’s story in your book, Corinne? We got us an oversized ax-wielding ghost stalking the cemetery at night.” “Maybe I can work it in as part of the paranormal twist.” “Go ahead and laugh at me, girls, but I know what I saw. I’ve had the spooks closing up this place ever since I laid eyes on him.” Corinne took a bite of blueberry pancake, her thoughts turning with Dick’s story. Though she wasn’t sure she believed in ghosts, she could hardly wait to get to the cemetery and maybe get a closer look at the house too. After breakfast, Corinne walked across to the cemetery. The foggy, overcast day created the perfect atmosphere for the sort of research she was conducting. The wet grass dampened her hiking boots as she walked slowly from one ancient gravestone to the next. Some of them were so worn they were difficult to read. Finally she found a single headstone with the Swift brothers’ names engraved upon it. Feeling a bit guilty about disrespecting the dead, she removed her digital camera from her pocket and snapped a couple of photos of the gravesite. A short distance from the Swift plot, beneath the shade of a weeping willow tree, Corinne found the grave of Emily Standcliff. A chill crept up her spine as she imagined the terrible day so long ago when the young Miss Standcliff had been beaten to death by her insane older brother. Within the same hour, he brutally murdered Emily’s lover and his brothers, as well as two of the Swift family servants. Glancing toward the Swift house on the hill overlooking the cemetery, Corinne shuddered to think the murders had taken place right there. She had asked her brother about the possibility of visiting the house. Murphy said it had been empty for several years, but a descendant of the Swifts had moved in about a week ago. According to rumor, the new owner was strange and unfriendly. Though she doubted he would

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allow her in the house, Corinne decided she could at least take a closer look from the outside. She turned back to Emily’s grave for one last look and shouted with surprise. “God.” She placed a hand to her breast and stared at the tall, imposing man standing by the grave. “You scared me.” “What are you doing here?” His low yet powerful voice sent ripples of fear and arousal through her, a startling combination. His deep-set gray eyes stared at her with such intensity she felt naked. “I was just visiting the old graves.” “Why?” He took a step toward her and she backed away, her pulse racing. For some reason, this guy scared her as much as he turned her on. Her back pressed against the tree trunk and he paused close enough so she could see the length and thickness of his eyelashes, the fine lines marking his full lips, and a slight flaring of his nostrils as he seemed to inhale her scent like a wild animal. “I’m interested in the Swift murders.” “The Swift graves are there.” He pointed in the direction of the brothers’ plot. Corinne thought she detected a note of contempt in his voice. “I know, but this is Emily Standcliff. She was --” “I know who she was. She was a soul taken too soon from this world.” Corinne studied his face carefully as he stared at the grave. A muscle twitched beneath one of his blade sharp cheekbones and his jaw tightened visibly. This man was apparently familiar with the story which had captured her interest. “Yes. All the deaths were a terrible tragedy, but for her to be killed by her own brother had to be the worst part.” His gaze swept sharply from the grave to Corinne. “What do you mean?” “I’m sorry. I thought you knew the story. Emily Standcliff was in love with Thomas Swift. Her brother must have had some kind of sick attachment to her, because when he found out about their affair, he beat her to death. Some say he even violated

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her, but that was never formally recorded. Afterward he took his ax and burst into the Swifts’ home, murdering the brothers and two servants who tried to stop him.” The man’s lips parted and his eyes gleamed with a look Corinne didn’t understand. “And I thought Hell could devise no worse tortures.” “Excuse me?” He forced a smile. “So how is it you’ve come to know so much about this story?” “I’m using it as a basis for a book I’m writing.” “I see.” “Out of curiosity, what are you doing here?” “I walk here often in the mornings and at night.” Corinne chuckled. “I’ll bet it was you Dick saw walking around here the other night, not a ghost.” “Ghost?” “A couple of nights ago the cook at the diner across the street thought he saw a ghost carrying an ax through here.” “It was me. I own part of the woods on the other side of the cemetery. I like to chop my own firewood. It’s good exercise and I don’t care for electric heat.” Corinne’s gaze swept him from head to foot. Taller than most men, he was exceptionally well proportioned, with broad shoulders, a flat belly, and long legs. She wondered if he looked as good beneath the raincoat and modest shirt, pants, and tie. “Then you live around here?” “I live there.” He pointed to the Swift house. “Oh, so you’re the guy who just moved in.” Corinne’s pulse quickened. Though strange as the rumor warned, he wasn’t exactly unfriendly. He was standing here talking to her, wasn’t he? What could it hurt to ask if she could take a better look at the house? Hesitantly she extended her hand. “I’m Corinne Rogerio.” For several seconds he stared at her hand as if she had some contagious disease. She was about to drop it along with her idea of asking about the house when he

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grasped it firmly in his. Corinne drew a sharp breath. His palm was rough and his flesh cool, almost cold. “John DeMonsol. So, Miss Rogerio, you have an interest in murders?” His question took her aback. “Not murders in general, just this case.” Silently he turned and walked away, his hands buried in the pockets of his long black raincoat. “Mr. DeMonsol?” He paused, his back to her. “Yes?” “I don’t suppose there’s any chance of me getting a look at your house for research purposes?” He glanced over his shoulder. The smile that flirted with his lips never reached his eyes. “Why not, Miss Rogerio? Come tonight around eight o’clock.” “Tonight?” Corinne’s mouth went dry. “Inconvenient for you?” “No.” “Good. Come for dinner.” “I really am doing research. I wasn’t coming on to you.” “Then you don’t want to have dinner with me?” “It’s not that.” “Then?” Corinne sighed. She desperately wanted to get into the house, but she wasn’t crazy. She didn’t know this man. Even his handsome looks couldn’t make up for the fact that he was a weirdo. Not only that, several women in the area had been recently abducted, so she wasn’t prepared to easily trust a strange man. “Would you mind if my brother came too? I’m sure he’d appreciate the historical value of the house.” “Of course he may come.” “Eight o’clock then.” He nodded, his eyes piercing her soul.

Chapter Two During the drive to John DeMonsol’s house that night, Corinne tried to steady her nerves. Her brother had telephoned to tell her he wouldn’t be coming home until later in the week and was unable to join her and John for dinner. “Don’t do anything crazy like go alone,” Murphy had warned. “I know you when you get an idea in your head, but don’t be stupid this time.” “I don’t know the guy and besides, he gives me the creeps. I want to see the house, but not enough to risk my life for it.” “If he said you could come tonight, then I’m sure he’ll let us make another arrangement for later.” For some reason, Corinne doubted she would get a second chance. Something told her John DeMonsol’s invitation was a one-time deal. “Be careful until I get back, Corinne. With all these missing women in the area, I worry about you.” “I’m pretty safe. After all, my brother is a cop.” “Anything can happen.” She drew a deep breath and released it slowly. Suddenly Murphy’s warning seemed more serious than ever. She told herself she would merely stop by the Swift house to let John know she couldn’t make it for dinner. Since they hadn’t exchanged phone numbers, and his was unlisted, she had no way of contacting him to cancel. She didn’t like the idea of standing him up after he had been kind enough to extend the invitation. Who was she kidding? Politeness was only part of the reason she was on her way to his house. Something about John lured her like no man she had ever met. Maybe it was his fierce expression or his sensual voice that made her long to see him again. Perhaps his strangeness itself stirred her interest.

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Corinne drove up the long, dark driveway and parked in front of the house. Light shone in the foyer and in one of the open windows through which she saw a table set for dinner. She hoped he hadn’t gone to much trouble preparing the meal. Sighing, she hid her can of mace in her hand and stepped out of the car. One could still be polite without being careless. Moments after she rang the doorbell, John appeared. Once again she was struck by his stunning good looks. He gazed at her, sending tremors of pleasure down her spine. The steel colored shirt he wore beneath his black jacket picked up the gray of his eyes. “Hello, Miss Rogerio.” “Hi. I’m sorry, but I just stopped by to tell you my brother and I won’t be able to stay for dinner.” “Oh?” John turned his gaze toward the car. “Murphy’s not here.” “And you don’t feel comfortable being alone with me in my house.” “It’s nothing personal.” He smiled, though his eyes remained serious. “A woman should use caution, especially with so many disappearances of late. How many women has it been? Five in the past month?” “I believe so. I’m glad you’re not offended and I hope Murphy and I might come again at another time.” “If you won’t join me for dinner here, perhaps I could interest you in sharing a meal somewhere in public?” His suggestion as well as the expression in his eyes took her aback. It hadn’t occurred to her that he might find her as appealing as she found him. “I, uh, sure. Why not?” “Good. I’ll follow you to wherever you’d like to eat.” Corinne offered him a slight smile before returning to her car. She was glad she had groomed carefully before leaving the house. Though she hadn’t expected a dinner date, she wanted to look nice for someone she found so attractive.

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***

Just when John thought the evil ones could devise no worse tortures for him, something happened to prove him wrong. When he first arrived in Hell, Bee and other demons had subjected him to physical torments. He’d been tied to a stone slab and disemboweled. While facing Hell’s hottest fires and buried neck deep in sand, his eyelids had been cut off. Though his demon body felt these tortures with the same intensity as a mortal one, he could not die. His organs and flesh grew back perfectly, fresh for new punishments. Though such tortures hurled him into agony no soul should endure, they paled in comparison to the emotional torments. Knowing he would spend eternity separated from those he loved and realizing he must return to the world of men to forever kill in the devil’s name was unendurable, yet he had no choice but to accept it. There was no sleep, no death, no other soul in which he could seek comfort. This half-life he now lived was littered with thorns, tiny points that snagged his heart. Bee had sent him to Earth in the physical form of a descendant of the Swift brothers, his worst enemies. He was forced to live in the house where his sister had been raped and beaten and where John himself had damned his soul to Hell by committing five murders. The only escape from the nightmare was to find the serial killer who had been abducting women throughout Maine. Only John knew the women had been killed. The police were still hoping to find them alive, but John had inside information about the sadistic animal they searched for. With the faint scent Bee had provided, John had spent the past week searching for the killer. Was it bitter irony or Bee’s idea of a joke that when he finally picked up the scent, it clung to the lovely, innocent looking woman who had caught his interest in the cemetery? When he had seen her examining his sister’s grave, his attraction to her had been powerful enough to quicken his pulse and make his cock twitch. As soon as he took carnal form, sexual desire always wrapped around him like a boa constrictor preparing for the kill. By now he knew he needed to ignore it. No matter who he bedded or what sort of stimulation he indulged in, climax was as elusive as Heaven itself.

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His first impulse had been to pay no attention to the woman in the cemetery, but he had never felt such a strong attraction to anyone. It must have been Bee working his evil magic, trying to get yet another laugh at John’s expense. If he refused to give in to the urges of his body, his mind was not so easily tamed. What was she doing at his sister’s grave? He had to know. When he approached to ask, her scent struck him and for a moment he stopped breathing. She carried the killer’s scent, faint and nearly disguised by her own musky, feminine aroma, yet it was there. She had been with the killer. Was she a friend? A relative, or had she merely been a passerby who had unknowingly escaped with her life? The idea that she was an accomplice didn’t enter his mind. A creature such as himself sensed evil, and this woman was as pure as the killer was filthy. Knowing she had contact with his prey meant he could not ignore her. Gazing at her, he knew if she was somehow linked to the killer, it was yet another form of torture for him. This woman’s eyes seemed to reach inside him and stroke a soft, needy place that had been ignored for too long. In spite of the connection between them, he also noticed her fear. Like most humans, she must have sensed the wickedness in him. Short of tying her up in his house and demanding information, it seemed there was no way for him to find the killer through her. Then she began discussing his sister and the Swift brothers and he was stung by yet another thorn. History had been falsely recorded. From what Miss Rogerio told him, his sister was remembered as Thomas Swift’s lover. His enemies had been unjustly murdered, and John himself was painted as an incestuous madman. It was too much. Taking control of himself, he realized Miss Rogerio’s keen interest in the murders bordered on obsession. By inviting her to his home, he hoped her curiosity about the historical building would outweigh her fear of him. Luckily she had accepted his offer. When he’d learned her she meant to cancel their plans before he could attempt to discreetly extract information about the killer, he knew he had to act fast. Asking her to share dinner with him in a restaurant seemed harmless enough, though he doubted she would join him. In spite of her obvious attraction to him, the only mortal women he had

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been able to seduce since taking demon form were harlots with a fetish for danger. Miss Rogerio was obviously a lady, or as much a lady as the twenty-first century had to offer. Yet again she surprised him, and now here he was astride his black Harley, trailing behind her car on the way to dinner. Fifteen minutes later, they were seated in a quaint restaurant in the center of town. Their small, round table stood beside a window overlooking a grassy yard with a pond. Though the town had changed drastically since 1656, he recognized some places. He guessed the pond had been one he fished and bathed in. Those were happier times. Emily had been a child, innocent and safe. How had everything gone so wrong? “Are you all right?” John glanced at Corinne, suddenly realizing he had been staring out the window, lost in a trance she could never understand. “I’m sorry. I was just thinking.” “Have you been in America long?” “Excuse me?” “Your accent’s English, isn’t it?” The manner of speaking in the Americas had change significantly. Funny Bee hadn’t thought of taking care of his accent too, since he considered everything else when prepping John for his role in modern Maine. “I’ve been here quite a long time.” “What do you do, John?” “I’m in construction. So you’re a writer?” “Yes. I’m getting the feeling you don’t like to talk about yourself.” “I’m not very interesting.” A slow smile spread across her lovely lips. “Somehow I doubt that.” The waitress interrupted to take their order, then left them alone again. Beneath the table, John extended his legs from their rather cramped position and his knees brushed Corinne’s. “Excuse me.”

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“These tables are small and you’ve got long legs. Maybe we should ask for a booth.” Corinne stood, glancing around for the waitress. Impulsively John reached for her hand. “No, this is fine.” Her gaze met his as she sank into the chair, her hand turning slightly so their fingers entwined. John’s heartbeat quickened. Warmth from her fragile mortal body seeped into him, heating his cool demon’s flesh. Looking into her eyes was like gazing into the pure blue waters he imagined flowed through Heaven. “Are you sure you don’t want to move? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” It was too late for that. Just being with her made him uncomfortable. She excited him and made him… could it be happy? He had almost forgotten what that felt like. Hesitantly he released her hand. “Tell me more about your book.” “Right now it’s in the planning stage. Of course, I’m only using the Swift story for inspiration. I mean, Emily was only eighteen when she fell in love with Thomas, and my heroines are usually older.” “What makes you so certain she was in love with him?” “It’s in all the history books.” “If she and the brothers were killed, how does anyone know what really happened?” “The fourth brother, Richard, told the authorities everything.” “Fourth brother?” What fourth brother? There were only three Swifts! This must have been Bee’s doing, to devise a way to paint John as the villain for all eternity! “Yes. He told how his brothers and servants were murdered before he could reach the house from where he had been saddling his horse in the stable. That same night, when Emily’s body was found, he explained that Thomas had been in love with her for ages, but her brother, John, hated all the Swifts and had publicly warned Thomas to stay away from his sister.” “Yes,” John murmured. That much was true. After a drunken Thomas Swift had made advances on Emily, he had confronted the bastard in the local pub.

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“It was obvious John was psychotic and killed them all in a fit of rage or passion. According to the stories, he was obsessed with his sister.” Fury boiled inside John. He forced himself to appear calm, though inside his stomach tightened like the coils of a starving snake. “He raised her since their parents died when she was a year old. I’m sure all he felt for her was fatherly affection.” “Perhaps. Nothing was ever proven, except for the murders.”

“Tell me how you intend to romanticize such a tragedy?”

Corinne stared at him, a hint of a blush on her cheeks. “Maybe you’re right.”

“About?”

“It has been so long since these people existed I guess no one really thinks of

them as real anymore. They’re a piece of history, like the old church across from the diner or your house, but they were human beings with feelings, lives, and families.” John shook his head, a bit guilty. “I’m sorry. To you, that’s all they would be.” “I know they were your ancestors, so I must seem so selfish to you. I’m not trying to disrespect the Swifts.” “I couldn’t care less about the Swifts. It’s the girl.” “I know. She was everybody’s victim. Her boyfriend’s, her brother’s. I only intended to use the idea of a couple who were so much in love but separated by a brutal, insane madman.” Brutal, insane madman. Me. “You have a vivid imagination, Miss Rogerio. Have you always wanted to be a writer?” John lifted his water glass to his lips. “I always loved to write, but for the longest time I wanted to be a nun.” John nearly gagged on his water. Laughter overwhelmed him, and he dragged a napkin across his lips to avoid looking like a complete buffoon. Corinne’s eyes widened and she reached across the table. “Are you okay?” “Fine.” He cleared his throat and fought for control of himself. “A nun?” “Yes. Then I realized it wasn’t for me.” “When you want to write love stories about murder victims? I should say not.” “It wasn’t so much the desire to write that made me change my mind.”

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“Then what?” “I began questioning my own religion and what I wanted out of life. I believe in doing good for others and I’m a spiritual person, but I’ve come to believe there is no single set of rules that will save our souls. If you follow what’s in your heart, more than likely you’ll do the right thing.” “Not always.” Long ago, John’s heart had been filled with hatred and the need for vengeance. His heart’s desire had damned him. “Maybe not.” “So you changed your mind because you didn’t fully agree with all the teachings of your religion?” “That and…” She smiled and shook her head. “I feel so strange talking like this with someone I just met.” “You don’t have to answer. I didn’t mean to get so personal.” “It’s all right.” Her gaze met his. “You’re easy to talk to.” “I am?” She nodded. “I left because I wanted a family. A husband. Children. Sometimes I wonder if it will ever happen for me.” “I’m sure it will. A man would consider himself lucky to win your heart.” Another charming blush rose in her cheeks. John’s cock tightened and something fluttered deep in his gut. This woman inspired passion yet protectiveness in him. Finding a pure, gentle soul in any age was next to impossible, yet he, a demon, had uncovered one in the amoral twenty-first century. He wanted to take her in his arms and make love with her, bury his cock deep in her softness. When it was over, he wanted to keep holding her, allowing her goodness to drown the evil crawling inside him. This was wrong. So terribly wrong. He didn’t deserve a woman like this, yet he was going to take her, lure her to his bed despite the fact that he could never fully enjoy her.

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The waitress brought their food. John gazed longingly at his. The meat looked tender and the salad crisp. The aroma of the lightly buttered vegetables teased him, yet he knew that like everything he ate, the food would taste dull and chalky. Turning his attention to Corinne, he watched as she lifted her fork to her mouth and tugged away the chunk of steak. The sensual motion of her lips as she chewed fascinated him. She swallowed, then sipped from her glass. Gazing at her seemed to hypnotize him. “How is your dinner?”

“Delicious.” She glanced at his yet untouched meal. “Aren’t you hungry?”

John began eating, though as he guessed, the food was tasteless.

“Do you live with your brother, Corinne?”

“I’m just staying at his house while doing my research.”

“So you don’t know anyone here?”

“Not really.”

Her reply piqued John’s interest. The killer’s scent still clung to her, so that

meant it was someone she had been with recently. Since she scarcely knew anyone in town, his search suddenly narrowed. “What did you do this afternoon?” he asked. “I spent a few hours at the library, then went home.” “And this morning before the cemetery?” She raised an eyebrow. “Why?” “I’m just wondering what’s fun to do in town. I haven’t done much except take business calls since I moved here.” “For your construction company?” “Yes.” “I should have guessed you were in that type of business.” “What do you mean?” “You look really fit.” Funny how her compliment touched his cynical heart. His physical appearance was almost the same as in his mortal life and he still felt pride in it.

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“Of course, you probably don’t do the actual labor. It sounds like you’re the boss.” “Yes.” “So all that wood chopping you talked about this morning seems to have paid off.” This woman’s fascination with his build would probably make seducing her easier than he thought. No wonder she had decided against becoming a nun. In spite of her demure, ankle-length dress and innocent face, a carnal gleam shone in her eyes and nearly drove him wild. Perhaps bedding her would be a worse idea than he thought.

*** Corinne could scarcely believe the turn the conversation had taken, or rather the direction she had turned it in. In spite of the passion burning in her heart, she had always been considered rather prudish. She never made advances on men, even ones she found handsome. She needed more than simple physical attraction and longed for a spiritual bond. When she met the man who inspired such a bond, then she would make her move. Perhaps she was being a bit foolish, but in her heart she felt John was the man she had spent her life hoping for. Yes, she found him handsome, but the attraction went far deeper than a fine face and form. Never had she seen a man with such soulful eyes. It was as if he had experienced everything the world had to offer, both good and bad. He had transcended spiritual pain, been tested, and had survived with his heart intact. Such strength terrified her, yet it drew her to him. Something told her she would never again find a man like this, and she wasn’t about to lose the chance to be with him. They finished the meal with polite conversation, and when the check came, he took it. “You don’t have to do that,” Corinne said. “This wasn’t like a date or anything.” “It was the most enjoyable evening I’ve had in more years than I care to remember.” Laughing, she reached for her jacket. “Does that line usually work for you?”

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To her surprise, he took the jacket from her grasp and held it for her. In her entire life no man had ever bothered with such an old fashioned pleasantry. “I don’t usually bother with a line. When I want something, I make my interest known.” “Are you?” His penetrating gaze fixed on her and he cocked his head to one side in question, reminding her of a sleek guard dog, willing to communicate yet inspiring a hint of fear. “I meant are you interested?” “No.” Feeling silly at coming on to him and angry about his blatant rejection, she strode past him and headed for the door. He caught her arm and tugged her gently to his side. “I’m beyond interested, Miss Rogerio. I’m fascinated.” “Oh.” Unable to control her smile, she gazed up at him, her stomach fluttering. Who was he kidding that he didn’t use lines? That was probably the most flattering one she’d ever heard. He released her arm and escorted her to her car. Pausing before she stepped inside, Corinne faced him, her heart pounding with desire. He stood so close she could almost feel the power emanating from his tall, big-boned frame. Moonlight glistened in his eyes, turning them more silvery than gray. “May I see you again, Miss Rogerio?”

“Only if you call me Corinne.”

“Are you free for lunch tomorrow, Corinne?”

“Yes. Shall we meet in front of the library?”

“If it’s convenient for you, I will meet you there at twelve o’clock.”

“Sounds great.”

She stared at him, wondering if he would kiss her. Perhaps not. He seemed so

formal and polite, as if he were a man from another time. Taking her hand, he stroked his thumb across her knuckles so gently his touch was almost imperceptible. “May I kiss your hand, Corinne?”

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Oh, God. I can’t believe I’m actually enjoying this guy’s crap.

“Why not?”

He raised her hand and touched his lips to the back of it. Desire darted through

her. His lips felt so soft yet firm. They were the slightest bit moist and wonderfully cool. She imagined using hers to warm them. The thought of their tongues mingling while he held her close to his gorgeous body made her want to squirm with need. Her clit ached and her panties felt a little damp. All that just from him kissing her hand. What in the world would happen if he tried her mouth? “Corinne?”

“Yes,” she murmured.

“May I kiss your lips?”

No.

Yes.

No!

Yes.

It’s too soon and you’re too hot for this guy. Just take it slow.

“Okay.”

Still holding her hand, he tugged her nearer. The kiss was chaste at first, a mere

sweeping of his lips across hers, then he kissed each corner of her mouth. Corinne’s eyes slipped shut and she stepped closer, sliding her arms around his neck. John kissed her lower lip, then took it gently between his teeth and ran his tongue along it. Her heart pounding with desire, Corinne parted her lips and met his tongue thrust for thrust as he searched her mouth. Splaying her palms across his shoulders, she pressed him closer, relishing the hardness of his muscles and the way his broad chest crushed her breasts. His arm slid around her waist, holding her even closer. Never had she experienced such powerful attraction to a man. This kiss was like nothing she had ever dreamed of. It was tender yet passionate, carnal yet reverent. For a brief moment, nothing existed except this wonderful man and his soulstealing kisses. A shiver of raw desire trickled down her spine. Need for him burned

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deep inside her, both thrilling and frightening her. Suddenly she became aware of his cock pressed against her. It was thick and steely, the perfect partner for her wet, aching flesh. She broke the kiss and pushed him away slightly. “That’s enough, John.” “I’m sorry.” “No. Don’t be. It’s just a little soon for me.” His lips curved upward the faintest bit and he caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Corinne. Pleasant dreams tonight.” “You too.” She opened her car door, but turned back to him and kissed his cheek before slipping inside and driving away. Pleasant dreams. Right. I doubt if I’ll be able to sleep at all after spending an evening with a guy like you. Corinne could still feel the softness of his lips against hers and she wondered how those lips would feel running over every inch of her flesh. During the drive to her brother’s house, she tried to ignore her carnal thoughts. The last thing she needed was sexual fantasies about a man she’d just met, but she couldn’t help it. John stirred her desires like no one ever had. By the time she arrived at the house, her heart was pounding with anticipation at seeing John again, and her entire body tingled with sexual need. Inside, she undressed and took a long, hot shower, hoping it would relax her enough to get a good night’s sleep. She closed her eyes. The water coursing over her body felt suspiciously like a man’s fingers dancing on her skin. Since meeting John, she seemed to be obsessed with sex and romance. As if to excuse her behavior, she told herself such thoughts might prove helpful when writing her book. Taking a cake of scented soap she had brought from home, she lathered it over her body, paying particular attention to her breasts. She cupped the water-slicked

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globes and gently ran her fingers over her nipples, pretending John’s hands were touching her. Desire stirred deep inside her, making her pulse race and her clit tingle. One of her hands slipped over the curve of her belly. Her finger hovered over her clit, but she stopped herself from touching it. Surely her brother’s shower wasn’t the place to sate her lust, no matter how much she needed relief. One thing was certain, if she didn’t satisfy her needs, she would be all the more apt to do something stupid, like sleep with John before getting to know the man as well as she should. If she had the crazy desire to sleep with John DeMonsol it was because he attracted her more than anyone she had ever known. Such lust was rare, and she wondered if denying it would cause as many regrets as sleeping with a man who didn’t stir her simply for the hell of it. Damn, a woman her age shouldn’t be confused. She wasn’t some floozy who popped in and out of bed with every guy who caught her fancy. She had spent her life waiting for someone who, as the saying went, rocked her world. Turning off the shower water, she wrapped herself in a big, fluffy towel and walked to her room. An unsettled feeling coursed through her when she approached the window and gazed outside. The street was dark except for the muted light of a halfmoon partially hidden by clouds. Fog floated close to the ground, warping the shadows. A shiver rippled through her before she yanked down the shade. The unsettled feeling didn’t leave her until she locked her bedroom door. Alone, with the bedroom light shining brightly, she placed a CD in her player. The sensual strains of piano music filled the room, rekindling her desire and pushing her ridiculous fears to the back of her mind. Standing in front of the mirror, she began smoothing vanilla scented lotion over her body, paying careful attention to her nipples. She stroked the elongated buds and rolled them between her thumb and forefinger. Little thrills of desire danced down her spine and wound their way into her belly. Again her clit throbbed and ached with need.

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Placing the lotion aside, Corinne tugged the comforter off the bed and lay atop the sheets. She closed her eyes, drew a deep breath, and released it slowly. Using the tips of her fingers, she stroked herself with long, sweeping motions from throat to belly. She drew random circles over her breasts before pinching the nipples and using the pads of her thumbs to tease them. Her thoughts drifted to John and she imagined his gorgeous lips covering one of her nipples while his moist tongue slashed over the tightly folded bud. Corinne sighed, unable to keep from smiling at the thought of such a magnificent stud making love to her. One of her hands slid between her legs as she thought of John’s fingertips dancing over her inner thighs. She stroked and squeezed her smooth flesh, inching closer and closer to her pussy. Finally she slid a finger into her slit, surprised by how wet she already was. Using the slick digit, she circled her clit, then ran her finger up and down the sensitive flesh. Wonderful sensations rushed through her, especially when she imagined John stroking her. Rubbing her clit, she thought of how it would feel to have his powerful body looming above her, to feel his steely muscles beneath her fingertips. Just imagining her fingers sinking into his solid bottom and locking her legs around him while he drove his cock into her pussy was enough to make her pulse race out of control. Closing her eyes even more tightly, she blocked out the light. In her mind, she and John were alone in a dark room, their bodies hot and damp with passion. Corinne pinched and tugged one of her nipples while at the same time stroking her clit faster. She paused in rubbing to swirl her finger inside her again, collecting more of her feminine elixir. Panting, she ran her finger up and down the ultra-sensitive side of her clit, slowing the motion until she trembled with need, pretending John was controlling her passion, teasing her until it pleased him to give her release. His warm breath would fan her ear and he would whisper endearments in his deep, sexy voice.

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“Oh, John,” she breathed. If she hadn’t been so lost in passion, she might have felt silly indulging in such a fantasy. She rubbed faster, her clit aching with pleasurepain, her heart hammering in her chest. Spreading her legs wider, she rubbed faster, unable to stop herself. She moaned, almost sobbing with passion, and dissolved into a quivering, writhing mass of raw female sensation. For several moments she lay with her eyes closed, panting and listening to her heartbeat return to normal. With a pleased smile on her lips, she opened her eyes partway and her heart nearly stopped from fear. Somehow she had been unaware her shade had snapped up so she could easily see the street from her first floor window. To her horror, the fog outside had turned a smoky color and taken on a human shape with ferocious black holes for eyes and thick, sneering lips. Jumping to her feet and dragging the sheet around her, she nearly screamed, then realized her half-open eyes must have been playing tricks on her. There was no smoke-colored demon, only shadows and fog. Trembling, she walked to the window and pulled the shade again, this time drawing the curtains as well. She only hoped no one passing by on the street had happened to look in while she was -Corinne shook her head, her face burning with shame, and forced such thoughts from her mind. It was late and there never was much traffic on her brother’s street. She slipped on panties and a nightgown, then curled up in bed. Feeling silly, she left her light on. Perhaps researching the murders was starting to get to her after all.

Chapter Three John’s Harley roared down the empty country road. Miles of woods extended in all directions. These woods were so different than the steel forests of Hell. They possessed scents and sounds that made him yearn for mortality just as Corinne made him long for sexual gratification. Both passions dangled just beyond his reach. Wind laced with the aroma of trees, earth, and forest creatures lashed his face. Unlike his ability to taste, his other senses were as sharp as any normal man’s, some of them, such as his sense of smell and hearing, even sharper. During his time on Earth, he indulged these senses, paying careful attention to every scent, sound, and sensation so he could carry those memories into Hell. Memories were all that kept him from losing his sanity. Souls who lost their self-control suffered even worse seclusion than the steel forest. They were dropped into a black void where they fell forever, weightless, numb, and forgotten. Sometimes he wondered if those souls weren’t wiser than ones like him who continued to expose themselves to torture. Maybe succumbing to the evil and allowing it to deaden him to pain and longing would be more sensible. “You’ll never be one of the abandoned souls, John. You’re too strong for that. The best you can hope for is to surrender to evil and become even closer to the boss. He thinks you have potential. If you’re lucky, you might even get to work with me. Think about it. No more slaving away in the steel forest. No more pain. You’ll be able to get rid of your eternal case of blue balls.” John’s pulse quickened at the sound of Bee’s voice speaking close to his ear. Smoky arms slid around him. Heavy palms rested against his chest, mocking a lover’s caress as Bee materialized on the seat behind him.

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“It would take more than a climax to make me surrender, Bee. You should know that by now. Tell me something, who the hell was Richard Swift? There was no fourth brother.” “There was after I created him.”

“You altered history so my story was changed?”

“Not changed. I just saw that it was recorded from a different point of view. Of

course Richard wanted his brothers to be remembered as moral citizens, not brutal rapists. He embellished the story a bit. What does it matter? Regardless of the circumstances, you took five lives. So the history books have the wrong version of exactly what happened. Who cares?” “What about not interfering and free will among the living?” “That’s not our department. Where we come from, the end justifies the means. You should understand that better than anyone, John. Now about Corinne Rogerio. You really like that little lady, don’t you? I thought for sure you were going to fuck her tonight. She reeked of lust for you. If you pushed the issue, she wouldn’t have backed down.” “Maybe she would have surprised you.” John wasn’t sure why he hadn’t pressured her for sex. Earlier that night, he had every intention of seducing her into his bed. The more he talked to her and flirted with her, the better he liked her. Not just her adorable looks, but her inner beauty. He enjoyed spending time with her, and he respected her. When she gazed at him with her large blue eyes that reflected an innocence rare in a woman of her age and time, he couldn’t follow through with his plan for a meaningless affair. “Staying close to her is a good idea. She has some deadly connections.”

“I know. What does the killer have to do with her?”

“You want me to do your work for you? How do you expect to win your chance

for redemption?” “You and I both know that’s bullshit. I’m never getting out of Hell.”

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“I hope not. You’re so much fun to annoy. You want Corinne badly, don’t you?” Bee’s hand slipped down John’s abdomen and over his hip. The dusky fingers danced over his thigh and reached for his cock. John stopped so suddenly they nearly flew off the bike. He grasped Bee’s searching hand, but it disappeared in smoke. The sound of the demon’s laughter echoed through the forest, then faded completely. Closing his eyes, John drew a steadying breath. His cock throbbed, not from Bee’s disgusting touch, but from thoughts of Corinne. He recalled every moment of their kiss. Her taste and scent still clung to him, teasing him, haunting him. The sensation of her breasts pressed against his chest had been so wonderful. He could still feel her taut nipples scratching him through the barrier of their clothes. She’d thrust her pelvis against his and gripped his shoulders, unconsciously luring him through the power of her desire. “Fuck!” Turning the bike off the road, John drove through the trees. Fallen twigs snapped beneath the tires. Tiny rocks flew in his face, but he didn’t care. Finally he stopped. Some form of physical release was in order. Leaving the bike in a clearing, he stood beside a large tree and extended his hand. His ax appeared in it. As always, the weapon came when he summoned it. Gripping it in both hands, he snarled like a rabid beast and swung it at the tree. The blade sank into the wood and he jerked it out. Within moments he felled the tree and continued hacking. Hours later, he sat in the clearing, panting and sweat drenched, his thoughts still focused on Corinne and the sensation of her soft, warm lips against his.

*** The following day, Corinne stopped at the diner for coffee before continuing her research at the library. Since business was unusually slow, Corinne sat at the table closest to the kitchen and talked with Alberta. The waitress listened eagerly to Corinne’s encounter with the town’s mysterious new citizen. “Sounds like one of those sexy weirdos you see in thriller movies,” Alberta said. “Yes, but there’s something about him.”

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Simply thinking of John made Corinne tingle all over. Her thoughts churned with memories of the kisses she and John had shared. Corinne shuddered when she remembered looking out the window where she thought she’d seen a creature of smoke staring at her. Perhaps it was an omen that she should be careful before letting herself fall for John. No. That was just superstitious nonsense. Still, liking a man this much couldn’t be good. She didn’t see how it could really be bad either. There was nothing wrong with desiring someone, but her passion for John surpassed physical attraction. The expression in his eyes, the sound of his voice, and the way he moved lured her. His conversation stimulated her just as much as his kisses. She wanted to know everything about him. Alberta laughed. “Girl, you’ve got it bad.” “Maybe a little.” Before they could continue the conversation, the phone rang. Alberta reached for it. “Billie’s Diner. Marge? Well, I’d be glad to help out, but I can’t leave the diner right now. I’m the only one here. Look, calm down and I’ll get there as soon as I can. Bye.” “Something wrong?” Corinne asked once Alberta hung up the phone. “My friend Marge runs the free daycare at the church and she’s got a family emergency. I can’t leave here to cover for her until Billie gets back.” “I could help her out.” “Your date with John is in half an hour. What if Billie’s not back by then?” “I’ll call him and ask if we can meet later.” “But you really like this guy and you don’t want to be standing him up this early in the game.” “I’m not standing him up. Besides, if he can’t understand a situation like this, then he’s probably not the sort of guy I want to be with anyway.” Corinne meant what she said, but part of her still worried John might disappoint her. After all, she didn’t know much about him. They had only shared a single evening. “Can I use the phone?”

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The waitress gestured for her to step into the kitchen. Corinne rummaged through her purse until she found the slip of paper John had given her with his phone number on it. She dialed, her heart pounding just from knowing that any second she would hear his voice again. “Hello?”

“John, it’s Corinne.”

“Hi. Am I late?”

“No. It’s only eleven thirty, but I have a little problem and can’t meet you at

twelve.” “What time would you like to see me?” “Well, I’m not sure. I’m sorry if this sounds terrible, but they’re in a bind at the church daycare and I said I would watch the children until they found a replacement. It shouldn’t be more than a couple of hours.” “Ah.” “Would you rather cancel?” “Would you?” “No! I mean, can I call you when I’m ready?” “Is the daycare actually inside the church?” Corinne’s brow furrowed. What a strange question. “Hang on a second. Alberta, is the daycare inside the church?” “No. It’s in a building across the street.” “I heard,” John said before Corinne could speak. “Would you like some help?” “You mean watching the kids?” “Yes, and we can go out afterwards.” “That would be great. Thanks. I’ll see you there in a few minutes.” Corinne hung up, more pleased than she wanted to admit by John’s offer. Alberta raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me he’s going to help you at the daycare?” “Yeah. How many guys would do that?”

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“Wait a minute. He’s handsome, a gentleman, a fantastic kisser, and he likes kids. Either he’s the world’s biggest liar or you’ve just found the last decent man left on Earth.” “I hope he’s not a liar, because I think I could easily fall in love with him.” Alberta touched her arm. “Hey, just be careful, okay? You really don’t know much about this guy.” “I know. I won’t do anything crazy. See you later.” “I’ll call Marge and let her know you’re coming. Thanks, Corinne.” Smiling, Corinne nodded and left the diner.

*** Twenty minutes later, Corinne stood in a small shop the church had purchased and remodeled for its daycare. A group of four young children sat around a table using finger paints while three others played games in a corner. Corinne glanced at the children before walking across the room to check on two babies in a playpen and an infant asleep in a crib. Other than a minor squabble or two, everything was going well so far. Every now and then, Corinne glanced toward the door, wondering if John would actually show up. When she bent over one of the babies who had started crying, a dark shadow fell over the crib, startling her. She glanced up at John and sighed with relief. “You scared me.”

“Sorry.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d actually come.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. Kids, this is John. He’s going to help me out today.” Corinne’s

smile faded when she realized the children had fallen completely silent and were staring at John with fearful eyes. “Hello.” John smiled at the group and took a step closer to the table. The children shrank back. He paused, his expression unreadable, though she sensed their reaction disturbed him.

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“I think it’s because you’re big,” she whispered. “They’ll get used to you.” “Perhaps. Would you come here a moment?” Picking up the baby whose cries had turned to faint whimpers, she followed John to a corner of the room. “I would like to help you, but I don’t want to frighten them. People in general tend to think the worst of me…” “That’s crazy. Why should they think that?” Yet she recalled upon their first meeting she had also feared him. With his height, build, and stern appearance, he was quite intimidating. “I’m telling you it’s because you’re big. Some kids are afraid of big men, especially if they have a bad father figure or even worse, no father figure. Give yourself a chance with them.” “You sound sure of yourself.” “Back home in Texas, I volunteer at a women’s shelter, so I help take care of kids all the time. I know a little about what they’re thinking.” He studied her for a moment. “You’re a good woman, Corinne.” A blush rose on her cheeks. “Look, the other baby is crying. Take this one and I’ll show you how to change him in a minute.” She handed the baby to John who held it at arm’s length, his hands under its arms so its chubby legs dangled in the air. Corinne glanced over her shoulder at him as she walked to the crib. “Try holding him closer.” “Closer,” John muttered, resting the child against his shoulder. Corinne knew by the expression on the baby’s face what was coming next, but she wasn’t quick enough to warn John. The baby vomited all over his shirt. “Did you do that on purpose?” “John, he’s a baby. Of course he didn’t do it on purpose.” “I was referring to you, not him. Hold him closer, you said.” By the grin on his lips and the teasing expression in his eyes, she knew he wasn’t as annoyed as his words led her to believe. No matter what this man might think about himself, he was all right.

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***

Two hours later, while Corinne cleaned up after snack time, she gazed across the room at John who sat on the floor engaged in a board game with several of the children. His shirt was nearly dry where she’d sponged it off. After their initial apprehension the children warmed up to him, and he to them. It surprised her that a man who seemed so confident harbored self-doubt. Perhaps his reserved nature merely disguised social discomfort. While she pondered this, Marge returned and thanked them for their help. “Would you do me a last big favor?” Marge asked. “Give this note to Father Andrew across the street. He should be right in the church when you walk in the front door.” “Sure.” “Thank you again, Corinne. You too, John.” Marge glanced nervously in his direction. For a moment, Corinne almost felt sorry for him. It seemed almost everyone he met took an instant aversion to him. What had Murphy told her on the phone? That the rumor was he didn’t have a pleasant disposition? She knew that just wasn’t true, once he opened up a bit. It seemed a pity people judged someone as nice as John solely on his outward appearance. Together they left the daycare and walked across the street to the church. John paused on the sidewalk. “Aren’t you coming in?” He stared up at the church, his eyes narrowed against the sunlight gleaming on the white steeple. “No. I’ll wait here.” “Are you okay? You look a little pale. Maybe you should come inside and sit for a while.” “No,” he snapped, then offered her a slight smile. “I’m sorry. I’m just not comfortable in churches.” “Oh.” Taking a step closer to him, she took his hand. “You’re sure you’re all right though?”

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“Fine. I’ll wait for you.” Corinne turned and hurried up the stone steps, perplexed by his reaction to a mere building. Perhaps she shouldn’t be. Religion frightened and offended some people. Maybe John had a very good reason, at least in his mind, for not wanting to enter the church. That probably explained why he had asked her on the phone if the daycare was inside the church itself. This man’s complexity fascinated her. Two days ago, she had been obsessed with researching the Swift murders for her book. Now a different angle took shape in her mind. Perhaps she would model her hero after John and make him a handsome, brooding man who showed the world so little of the wild emotions bubbling deep inside him.

*** John stared at the church door. Clenching his fists, he realized his palms were sweating. Usually only intense physical exertion or the touch of a human heated his demon body. The thought of entering the church incited panic that drove his temperature higher than usual. Part of him wanted to step inside, not to defy Heaven, but to see if the stories were true and even a creature of Hell might be welcomed if he wanted forgiveness badly enough. Drawing a deep breath, he took first one step, then another. The sky dimmed, and when he glanced overhead one of the storm clouds looked too much like Bee. John didn’t want to remain in Hell, but he couldn’t completely regret his crime. Right or wrong, he believed justice had been served by the Swift brothers’ deaths. Suddenly the doors opened, and Corinne stepped out, a priest beside her. Young, with fawn colored hair and wide set green eyes, he smiled cheerfully. His good humor seemed to fade when his gaze fixed on John. It was strange how after so many years of frightening humans their terror still affected him more than he wanted to admit. Usually they remained apprehensive about him, no matter how conservatively he dressed or politely he spoke. Only Corinne and the children at the daycare seemed to have lost their fear of him completely.

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“John, this is Father Andrew. Father, John DeMonsol.” The priest’s smile returned, faintly yet sincerely. He walked down the steps and extended his hand, which John took. Father Andrew’s hand trembled a bit, yet his steady gaze remained locked with John’s. “Corinne tells me you’re both new to our town. She said you’ve moved into the Swift house near the old church. It has quite a piece of history attached to it, that house, but I’m sure you know all about it, being a descendant of the family.” John held the priest’s gaze. “It seems your parishioners talk a lot.”

“It isn’t often we have someone new move into town. It’s only natural people

have taken an interest in you.” “An interest. Yes.” “Corinne assures me she’ll be at our Sunday morning service. Perhaps you would like to come?” “No. Thank you.” Father Andrew nodded slowly. Something in the young priest’s eyes annoyed John, mostly because he liked what he saw. Honesty, integrity, and a genuine caring for people. “I know it can be difficult moving to a new place. You have my word I won’t try to convert you, but you’re welcome here any time, even if it’s just to ask me where’s a good place to stop for coffee.” John nodded his thanks and turned to Corinne. “Shall we go?”

“Yes. It was nice meeting you, Father.”

“You too, Corinne. Both of you take care.”

Together, John and Corinne crossed the street to where they had parked. Her

gaze drifted toward his Harley. “Would you give me a ride? I’ve always wanted to try a motorcycle.” “Sure.” He passed her a black helmet. “Put this on.” “What about you?” “I’ll risk it.”

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He mounted and started the engine. Glancing at her, he noted the excited gleam in her eye and couldn’t help smiling a bit. She slid behind him and grasped the belt loops of his jeans. He winked at her over his shoulder. “Don’t be shy, Corinne. Hang on tight.” Her arms slid around his waist and a thrill zipped through him. John had been touched, kissed, and fucked by more women than he could remember, but with Corinne everything seemed fresh, like untrodden ground. She made him feel more alive than he had in centuries. Pulling away from the curb, he guided the bike through town at a reasonable pace. Once on the open road, he picked up speed. The scent of trees and wildflowers made the sunny day perfect. Wind fanned them, a pleasant caress, though not nearly as wonderful as the sensation of Corinne’s arms around him. After several moments, she relaxed her fierce hold on his waist and slid her palms up his ribs before splaying them across his chest. Pressing close to his back, she warmed him, lured him. Though nearly insane with passion, he refused to push her. Not Corinne. He swore to treat her with tenderness and respect. When and if she was ready, then he would take her beautiful body and give her pleasure such as she never dreamed possible. They neared his house and she shouted above the wind, “Can I still have that tour?” “You mean now?” “Yeah.” Slowing the bike, he pulled into the driveway and parked. “That was so much fun. I feel like I’m buzzing all over.” John wet his lips. Why did she have to say that? It made him think of sex. Who was he kidding? Everything about her made him think of sex. She slipped off the bike and removed the helmet. Taking it from her, he used his free hand to smooth her hair. Corinne grinned. “It must be a mess.” “I like it. Kind of…”

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“Yes?” “Sexy.” “Thank you. So is yours.” She reached out and ran both hands through his hair. “Sorry. I couldn’t resist. It’s so black and curly I had to know what it felt like.” “Be my guest.” Wrapping an arm around her waist, he tugged her close and kissed her. The scent and feel of her made his cock leap and sent his heart soaring. His eyes closed and he deepened the kiss, stroking her tongue gently with his. When the kiss broke, he found himself gazing into her eyes. Her lips remained slightly parted, her breath gently fanning his face. “Are you going to show me the house?” “You’re not just appeasing me with those magnificent kisses to get inside my house for research, are you?” “What kind of a woman do you think I am?” “The irresistible kind.” That familiar, adorable blush rose on her cheeks. “You know those lines you say you don’t use? You should write a book of them.” John guided her up the walk to the front door. He could almost feel her excitement as he turned the key and held the door for her. To her, this was nothing more than a museum, a piece of history. She had no concept of the horrible, painful memories this house held for him. How could she? They stood in the foyer, and she glanced about, wrapping her arms around herself. “Does it bother you, living in a house where people were murdered?” He held her gaze, but didn’t speak. Turning toward the staircase, she looked up to the second floor. “Benjamin Swift was killed right here in the foyer. The servants died here too.” “I know.” “As the story goes, John Standcliff had just hacked Michael Swift to death at the top of the steps and was going for Thomas when the servants tried to stop him. Then he --”

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Demon Lover

- 40 -

“Tried to push them away, but they fell down the stairs and died.” John’s voice was scarcely a whisper. Corinne took a step closer to him and gazed into his eyes. “It does bother you, doesn’t it?” “How could it not?” “Have you ever seen anything strange here?” “Such as?” “Ghosts.” He smiled the slightest bit and caressed her cheek. “As I said earlier. You have a vivid imagination.” “I’m not really afraid of ghosts, if they even exist.” “No?” “At least that would mean there is some kind of afterlife.” “There is an afterlife.” “You sound very sure of yourself.” “May I ask how a woman who once wanted to be a nun has so little faith?” “I do have faith. It’s just that it would be nice to know once we’re gone we can still sort of connect with this world in some little way.” If she had any idea of the horrors he had witnessed and endured over the past centuries, she might not be so quick to hope for such a thing. However, since Hell existed, he knew there had to be Heaven, so he didn’t doubt Corinne’s afterlife would be far more pleasant than his. “Feel free to look around. Most of the furniture is still covered. I haven’t had much time for housekeeping. I’ll light a fire. It gets pretty cool at night.” “I know. I’m a little cold after that ride.” He led the way to the parlor. As he warned, most of the furniture was covered in plastic. Bee had taken care of the details of his business and home, so other than uncovering the bed, John had little interest in his borrowed belongings. He tugged the

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cover off the couch and stared at the black velvet cushions, resisting the urge to curl his lip in disgust. “Wow.” Corinne approached and ran her hand over one of the cushions. “This is some couch.” “I’ll say.” Leave it to Bee to pick out furniture straight from a gothic nightmare. She laughed. “You look like you’ve never seen it before.” “I must have been drunk when I picked it out.” While she continued strolling around the room, he lit the fire. Moments later, flames bathed the room in light, yet he knew from experience it would take a while to heat the big, drafty parlor. Corinne sat on the couch, still looking chilled. “Would you like some tea?” “Very much.” He left her to set the kettle boiling, then retrieved a blanket from his bedroom. Even though she’d washed it, he changed his shirt before he returned to the parlor. Pausing in the doorway, he stared at Corinne, his pulse quickening. Firelight danced across her smooth face, accentuating her rounded cheeks and snubbed nose. Her slightly parted lips looked fuller and lovelier than ever. How much he wanted to kiss her! He draped the blanket over her. Glancing over her shoulder, her blue eyes wide, she smiled. “You keep startling me. You move so quietly I never know when you’re coming.” “Sorry.” “Don’t be.” Snuggling deeper into the blanket, she gazed at him through her lashes. He wasn’t sure if she intended to look flirtatious or not, but her expression was driving him wild. “Thanks for the blanket. I can’t believe how cold it got.” “That’s New England for you. Sun one minute, snow the next.” John sat beside her, wondering if his longing shone in his eyes. The urge to tug her into his arms was almost uncontrollable. With her hair still wild from their ride, she was the amazing combination of sexy and adorable.

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Demon Lover

- 42 -

“Is the blanket warm enough?” “Yes, thanks.” “Could you use something warmer?” She met his gaze and drew a deep breath. Nodding slowly, she edged closer to him. John slipped his arm around her and drew her to his side. Gazing into her eyes, he gently stroked her face with his fingertips, exploring every curve and memorizing the texture of her skin. “I don’t know what it is about you, Corinne Rogerio, but I’ve never felt this way about a woman before. I know that must sound like another line, but --” “No. Maybe I’m a fool for believing you, but how can I not when I’ve never felt this way about a man? Do you believe in fate, John?” Leaning closer, he whispered against her lips, “No.” “Then how do you explain this?” “I can’t. I just want to kiss you, Corinne.” Her eyes slipped shut and she looped her arms around his neck. Unable to resist any longer, John covered her mouth with his. For a moment he savored the sweetness of a closed mouth kiss. Even that slight contact warmed him inside and out. His tongue gently traced every soft curve of her lips before slipping into her mouth. Corinne moaned softly and tightened her grip on him. Each hungry stroke of her tongue sent a stab of desire through him. Never had he experienced such gentle kisses. Usually the women he took had little interest in anything but a fast, hard screw. Corinne was different. She seemed to enjoy foreplay, and he wanted so much to please her. His hands swept up and down her back, relishing her warmth and softness. Reluctantly his mouth left hers, but only so he could rain kisses down the side of her neck. A ripple of desire coursed through her and she held him tighter. Her breathing quickened, the sound of it exciting him even more. He tugged her sweater slightly off her shoulder and kissed the smooth, bare flesh. Using the tip of his tongue, he traced slow circles along the hollow of her shoulder.

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Demon Lover

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“Oh, John. That feels so nice.” Did it ever. He could have spent hours just kissing her neck and shoulder. Her scent grew stronger as her passion built. She writhed a bit, probably because the stubble of his beard tickled her, yet by the way she clung to him and whispered his name over and over, she seemed to enjoy it. John’s cock felt stiff enough to explode, yet he knew it would never happen. Tonight he would experience the most magnificent form of torture. He would feel intense pleasure but as always, the climax would remain beyond his desperate grasp. For the first time, he truly didn’t care. Fulfilling Corinne’s desire would almost be enough to conquer the bitterness he felt each time he strained for that elusive orgasm. “John, I want --” “Yes?” Raising his head, he gazed at her with all the intensity he felt. “I never want this night to end.” She snuggled closer and rested her head against his shoulder. Her fingertips played with the top button of his shirt before she unfastened it. The next one followed, then another until the black silk was open to his navel. She rested her palm against his chest, then began running her fingers through the mat of dark hair. Sighing with pleasure, John closed his eyes and concentrated on the wonderful sensations provided by her gently stroking hand. Just then the teapot whistled. Hesitantly he excused himself, but before going, he brushed a kiss across her mouth. In the kitchen, John leaned against the wall for a moment, drawing several deep, cleansing breaths. It did no good. His heart still pounded with anticipation and his cock felt ready to leap through his pants. A glance down revealed that it looked about ready to do just that. He wondered if Corinne had noticed. How could she not when his erection had been trapped deliciously between them? Opening his eyes, he approached the stove, but something on the countertop caught his eye. He picked up the package of condoms and gritted his teeth. “Thought of everything, didn’t you, Bee?”

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Demon Lover

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He didn’t doubt the little devil was somewhere close by, hoping John would torture himself with sexual acts that in the past had brought him nothing but frustration. Bee had no idea this time would be different. Regardless of whether or not his passion was fulfilled, he loved being with Corinne, touching her, kissing her. He longed to give her the ultimate pleasure, to watch her writhe, pant, and quiver with the intense orgasms he knew he could provide. Hell, he could literally make love for hours without losing potency. Pocketing the condoms, he poured the tea and brought it to the parlor. “Would you like milk and sugar?” “I’m much warmer now. Can the tea wait?” He turned to her, startled and thrilled by the desire in her eyes. Placing the teacups aside, he reached for her. Without hesitation she edged closer and slipped her arms around him. She kissed him, tentatively at first, then initiating a deeper kiss, as he had done to her. When their tongues met, she surprised him even more by sucking on his. The motion seemed to reach all the way to his cock. Groaning, he dragged her nearer, pressing his erection against her. How he longed to yank off their clothes and wrap his naked body around hers! “Come here,” he ordered, his voice husky, and hauled her onto his lap. She straddled his waist, her thighs tight around him, her hands stroking his chest and shoulders. Licking his neck as he had done to her, she slid his shirt down his arms. “God, you’re beautiful,” she murmured, running her lips over his chest. Her tongue swirled around his nipple, then trailed across his breastbone. “No, you are.” Taking her chin in his hand, he tilted her face to his and gazed into her eyes. “Corinne, wait a moment. I have to be honest with you.” “What is it?” She sat up, her eyes wide. “Please don’t tell me you’re married.” “No. I’m not married. I’d love to be, but I doubt it will ever be possible for me, just like I can’t make you any promises about our relationship.” “I see.” She stared at him for several heartbeats, then caressed his face. “Is it just sex you want? Because I want it too. Not that I like the idea of a one-night stand, but --”

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Demon Lover

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“It’s not that I don’t want more. I do, but I spend quite a lot of time with my work. I travel a lot because of it, and I don’t think it’s fair to drag a family into my kind of lifestyle.” Even to John, his half-lie sounded pathetic. “A lot of people are apprehensive about commitment. We’ve only known each other two days, John. I’m not ready to pledge my life to you either.” “Of course not. I must have sounded damn conceited just now.” Simply because he had fallen in love with her practically at first sight didn’t mean she felt the same about him. Perhaps he’d wanted a woman like her for so long he fooled himself into believing she wanted him just as much. “No. You didn’t. What we’re feeling is unbelievable, at least to me. I won’t lie and say you haven’t swept me off my feet, because you have, but I want to be as rational as possible. Do you have any protection?” “What?” She blushed. “You know, like condoms.” The woman absolutely blew his mind. One moment she was sweet and demure, the next she was asking if he had safes. “What the hell am I saying?” She stood and walked closer to the fire, wrapping her arms around herself. “You must think I’m incredibly cheap.” “No. I don’t think that at all, Corinne.” “All my life I’ve been the kind of woman who said no, even if she wanted sex. Deep inside, I knew I was waiting for the right person. I don’t know if our relationship will go anywhere, John, but I do know I want to make love to you. Right now.” He drew her back into his lap. Resting his cheek against the top of her head, he sighed, squeezing her tighter. “I don’t want you to have any regrets. That’s why I wanted to be honest.” “I know. Most men would have taken what they could, then left with a ‘don’t call me, I’ll call you.’ I’m not going to regret this, John, but I know I will regret it if we don’t.”

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Demon Lover

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He wished he could tell her they had time to think, but he couldn’t. As soon as he caught the killer, his term on Earth would end, and he knew he would find him soon. The scent still clinging faintly to Corinne meant the killer was someone she saw daily, someone she was close to. Soon, very soon, she would lead him to the murderer. His suspicions only made him feel guiltier about sleeping with her, but his desire for her was like a drug. Corinne was a bit of Heaven to a man fated to burn in Hell. It amazed him he was able to try to sway her from him at all. Now there would be no turning back. After all, he was a demon. As Bee would say, kindness was not in his nature. Whenever he tried to do something good or humane, it would lash back as some sort of vile punishment. Corinne’s brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing. So you plan to do this?” She nodded, and he stood, shrugged his shoulders back into his shirt. “John! What are you doing?” He swept her into his arms. “I’m taking you upstairs.” Clinging to his neck, she held his gaze. “I’m a little nervous.” “You don’t need to be. I promise.” “I can’t help it. I want this more than anything, but I’ve never been with a man before. For a woman of my age it seems ridiculous, but --” “No. It doesn’t.” He reached the top of the steps and walked down a dark hallway, then stepped into a large bedroom. The two enormous windows across the room were open. A breeze wafted in, stirring the black curtains. Moonlight bathed the room, making other light unnecessary. Just about everything was black from the rug to the brocade wallpaper. Even the cushions on the chair were black. Only the furniture was stained dark brown and polished to mirror-like brightness. A painting of Eve with the serpent in the Garden of Eden rested above the mantel. Just another reflection of Bee’s sick sense of humor. The enormous bed stood in the center of one wall. It was very old fashioned with a heavy black velvet curtain that could be drawn all around it.

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Demon Lover

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“This is quite a room.” Corinne glanced around. “It’s very… dark.” “I think each of us has a dark place inside him. We can’t run from the darkness. Somehow it will always catch up.” “Don’t do that.” She caressed his face and gazed into his eyes. “What?” “Get sad on me.” Smiling slightly, he kissed her again. “How can I be sad when I’m with you?” He placed her on the bed and sat beside her, stroking wisps of hair from her face. He wanted to devour her, plunge deep inside her and feel her warm body wrapped tightly around him. Patience was necessary, for his only true pleasure would come from pleasing her. She glanced around the room once again. “Dark or not, I think you have great taste.” “I had a decorator,” he said between chaste and tender kisses. Finally his mouth covered hers in a deep, searing kiss. She clung to him, stirring his body and his soul.

*** Corinne clung tightly to John, lost in his kiss. How could a man be so powerful yet so gentle? Her hands slid up his back and across his shoulders, relishing the steely hardness of his muscles. She suddenly forgot about the strange yet attractive room, her fears, even the research value of the house itself. Closing her eyes, she lost herself completely in the tender touch of his lips, his fresh, masculine scent, and the sensation of his chest pressing against her breasts. He explored every inch of her mouth while playfully avoiding her tongue which sought to trap it. Finally he engaged in the hot, wet fencing match she longed for. Corinne moaned. She kicked off her shoes and socks and slid her bare feet up and down his legs. “I want to feel your skin against mine, Corinne. I want to kiss and stroke every inch of you.”

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Demon Lover

- 48 -

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything as much as I want you to make love to me now.” “Corinne.” He loomed above her, supporting his weight on one forearm while stroking her face and hair. “I want you to know something. When we do this, I want to pleasure you completely. Don’t be afraid to tell me exactly what you want. My greatest pleasure will come through making you happy. Each time you climax will be like a shared orgasm. Through you, I will know ecstasy.” Warmth spread through her entire body. Though his selfless attitude touched her, she wanted him to experience much more pleasure than simply what he could bestow upon her. Corinne vowed to please him as much as he pleased her. She might be a virgin, but she wasn’t stupid. She had written enough wild love scenes to feel confident about testing them on a real man. “Take off your clothes, John. I can’t wait a moment longer to touch you.” He sat on his knees and allowed her to remove his shirt. Corinne’s lips parted and her breathing deepened at the sight of his powerful, naked torso. Feeling like a child in a sweet shop, she didn’t know what to taste first. Should she kiss his brawny pecs or run her tongue over his flat, pink nipples? Should she stroke his muscle-ridged abdomen or use the tip of her finger to tickle his adorable navel? Never had she been this close to a man she was so attracted to. Thinking about how she had abstained for so many years, she couldn’t help laughing. “What?” he asked. “Nothing.” An amused smile touched his lips. He stroked her cheek. “Keeping secrets during such an intimate moment?” “Not really.” She slipped her arms around his neck. “Now where were we?” “We were taking off your sweater.” He slid the garment up her body and over her head. Sitting back for a moment, he drew deep breaths, his gaze fixed on her nearly bare torso as if he hadn’t seen a woman in years. The intensity of his stare flattered her, yet made her a bit uneasy.

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Demon Lover

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“Is something wrong?” His gaze switched to her face. “No. You’re just so beautiful. I can hardly keep my eyes off you. Let me see more.” With the utmost tenderness, he unfastened the front hook on her bra. Her breasts tumbled into view. Not that she was particularly egotistical, but Corinne knew her breasts were attractive. They were full yet firm, creamy white, and tipped with large pink nipples. John slipped the bra straps down her arms and tossed the undergarment aside. He cupped her breasts in his hands and held them for several seconds, as if relishing their weight. Slowly, gently, his thumbs swept over her nipples. They awakened beneath his touch, tightening to hard jewels of passion. Bumps of pleasure rose on her areolas. Corinne sighed deeply, little thrills of desire coursing through her. For all the power in John’s big body, he was so gentle with her. “Lie back.” He guided her onto the pillows and covered her neck with feathery kisses that tickled and stirred her. Those kisses trailed over her shoulder then finally reached her right breast. He ran his lips over every inch of the soft, fleshy globe, except for the nipple that he saved for last. Corinne waited, her body taut with anticipation. She threaded her fingers through his hair and stroked his shoulders, loving the solidity of his body and longing to feel his cool flesh grow warm. At the first swipe of his tongue over her nipple, intense pleasure coursed through her. Corinne drew a sharp breath and clung to him hard. Over and over he licked her nipple, using the very tip of his tongue to circle it. Then he sucked it, drawing it deep into his mouth. The magnificent sensations rolled through her breast and turned her pussy to molten liquid. If he kept up the sucking and licking, she might come without a single touch below the waist. “Oh, John. That feels so good.” A low, pleasured groan escaped his throat. He continued sucking, then unzipped her jeans and slid his hand along her panties. Two of his fingers inched lower to where

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she felt so hot and wet. His thumb stroked her clit, sending little ripples of passion through her. Sitting back on his knees, John tugged off her jeans and skimmed her underwear down her legs. He tossed them on the floor beside her bra, quickly shedding the rest of his clothes, as well. Taking one of her feet in his hands, he closed his eyes and kissed her from ankle to knee. His hand slid over her inner thigh, stroking the smooth flesh. Corinne moaned softly, her pulse racing. She wanted him so badly it was a physical ache, yet she didn’t want to rush. This was her first time and she longed to savor each and every moment. Stretching out on his side, John draped her legs over his shoulders and grasped her waist. He lowered his head so his lips hovered over her clit. His warm breath fanned it, teasing her. Corinne gasped and buried her fingers in his hair. His tongue slid over her clit, filling her with pleasure such as she never imagined possible. Each stroke of his tongue seemed to push her out of reality and into a world where only passion ruled. Her entire body tightened and strained. She tried to wriggle her hips, but he held her fast. His lips tugged at her clit, a marvelous torture that left her panting and begging for more. “John, oh, please! Don’t stop. This is unbelievable.” Part of her thought she should feel a bit shyer about baring herself so completely to a man she scarcely knew. Another part of her, one that was desperate for such closeness, told her to cling to him and reap all the joy he offered. He seemed to know exactly how to stroke her to achieve the most intense reaction. Lapping in the perfect rhythm, he used just enough pressure to excite her without causing even the slightest discomfort. Panting, her entire body aflame, Corinne tossed her head on the pillow as the marvelous tightening continued building in her clit and pussy. Suddenly she exploded. Massive pulsations of pure ecstasy rolled through her entire body. “Oh, John! John!”

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His tongue rested upon her clit, pulsing in time with her body and drawing out her pleasure to the final ripple. He covered her body with his. Gazing into his eyes, she noted the way they seemed to glow with passion. “I want you so badly, Corinne,” he murmured, kissing her brow and her cheeks before covering her mouth with his. His tongue stroked hers, then he sucked on it. His broad chest pressed sensually against her breasts, the soft mat of hair tickling her flesh. Though her legs still felt a bit weak from the intensity of her orgasm, she couldn’t resist running her feet up and down his calves. He groaned. “I love how that feels.” “So do I.” His hair-roughened legs teased the soles of her feet. Corinne was intensely aware of his erection, so rock hard yet satin skinned, prodding her slick entrance. He used the tip of it to circle her pussy lips. “Go on,” she whispered in his ear. “I want to feel you deep inside me, John.” “Yes. That’s what I want. To have your hot flesh throbbing around me.” She thrust her hips, rubbing against him, her arms tightening around him. Closing his eyes, he released a long, slow breath. “Corinne, please. I’m trying to move slowly. I don’t want to hurt you.” “I can’t help it. You turn me on so much. I never imagined how good this would be.” He kissed her upper lip, then took her lower lip between his and sucked on it as he had done to her clit. Running his tongue across her lip, he shifted his hips, edging the head of his cock inside her. Corinne tensed a bit as he slid in deeper. She tightened her grip on his shoulders and gazed into his eyes. “Trust me,” he whispered. “Try to relax.”

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Demon Lover

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Nodding, she did as he asked. Still, it was difficult. Though she loved the sensation of his body against her, she was very tight and he was rather large. Her passage, slick from his earlier ministrations, accepted his girth as he slowly filled her. By the time he reached the hilt, Corinne’s fingers were biting hard into his shoulders, her body hotter than ever as her desire for him rekindled. He thrust slowly, gently, stirring her passion as much from his tenderness as from the marvelous sensation of his stiff yet velvety cock buried deep inside her. The wonderful tightness began again, making her clit tingle and her heart race. Closing her eyes, she writhed and rocked beneath him, gasping. John kissed her, his tongue exploring her mouth while he began thrusting faster. In spite of the impassioned storm gathering between them, his motions never roughened. He treated her with such gentleness and caring that Corinne wondered just how fast two people could fall in love, for she knew she cared deeply about John. “Yes, yes! Oh!” she cried, clinging to him hard and driving her heels into his calves as she came. Wave after wave of pleasure broke over her body, yet his thrusting never ceased. He pushed her higher still, giving her a third orgasm so intense it was almost painful. Growling, he rolled onto his back, still clutching her hips. Astride him, she grasped his wrists and gazed at him through half open eyes. His eyes were black with desire, his lips parted as he drew harsh sips of air. His chest rose and fell with excited breathing. In spite of his obvious pleasure, his cock was still rock hard inside her. Suddenly she longed to give him the same pleasure as he had given her. Rocking atop him, she squeezed her vaginal muscles tightly around him. John’s eyes closed and his neck arched against the pillow, the cords taut and straining. “Corinne. Damn it, woman, you do things to me I’ve only felt in dreams.” “Mmm,” she purred, unable to form words as a fourth orgasm threatened to overcome her. She slowed her motions, her heart hammering in her chest as she tried to hold back. She wanted to feel him explode, to watch his face when he came.

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Demon Lover

- 53 -

His hands slid over her ribs and caressed her breasts. Like a musician playing a favorite instrument, his fingers danced over her nipples, circling them and pinching them gently. Corinne whimpered with need and rode him a bit faster. She stopped, her entire body tense, tremors running down her spine and making her legs quiver as she sought to restrain herself. “Ride me, Corinne. Ride me hard!” “But --” “Just do it!” he snarled, almost sounding angry. She did as he commanded, rocking faster and faster. The explosion seemed to expose every nerve in her body. She writhed and shook, his name falling from her lips in hoarse cries. Before she could collapse upon him, he pushed her onto her back and lay, buried to the hilt within her, his face against her shoulder. Languidly she wrapped her arms around him and felt tremors coursing down his spine. His ragged breath echoed in her ear. She squeezed her hot, wet pussy tightly around his cock, seeking to please him. “No. Please stop,” he gasped. She did what he asked and he pulled out slowly. To her shock, he left the bed and headed for the bathroom without looking back.

*** His eyes closed, John stood in the shower, his face turned toward the faucet. Even the stream of cold water did nothing to relieve the almost unbearable sexual need torturing his body. Kissing and stroking Corinne had been purely blissful. Her skin felt so soft and warm that being close to her might have been soothing had she not stirred his passion like no woman he had ever met. When his cock slid into her hot, slick pussy, the pleasure had been so keen he thought he might come in spite of the limitations of his demonic body. Feeling her throb around his erection had been so wonderful, yet after

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years of unfulfilled lust, it frustrated him even more than it pleased him. He wanted her so badly that he teetered on the verge of madness. Now more than ever he realized he should not have slept with her. His tormented soul needed too much from this brief interlude among the living. He needed emotional connection and comfort as well as physical fulfillment. That was the worst part of his curse, that he appeared human but could not experience these simple pleasures required by all men. His eyes snapped open as Corinne’s scent grew stronger. Above the rush of the water, he heard her enter the bathroom. “John?” “What is it, Corinne?” The shower curtain parted and she gazed at him. Standing there naked, she looked so lovely and vulnerable. He could have torn her apart with his demonic strength. He could have spent all night rutting her body with the violence so many of his kind indulged in during their trips into the mortal world. In spite of the way he was forced to spend eternity, John could not think or act entirely like a demon. He could still love and feel. That was why Bee loved tormenting him. It was also the reason he could never truly give in to Hell’s evil master. “What’s wrong?” Corinne rested a gentle hand on his shoulder. She jumped a bit. “That water is freezing.” “I thought it might help.” “Did I do something wrong? Offend you in some way?” “No.” He adjusted the faucet so warm water poured out, then reached for her. “You did everything too right, I think.” Stepping into the shower, she slipped her arms around his waist and pressed her body close to his. Her soft curves stirred him even more. His cock felt ready to burst. He needed it to burst, but in spite of his desperation it would remain painfully hard and longing for that orgasmic rush saved exclusively for mortal men.

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“You didn’t seem to enjoy yourself.” Her hand slipped lower and curled around his cock. John’s pulse raced and he sank his teeth into his lip as intense pleasure darted through him. “Why are you holding back with me?” “I’m not.”

Tilting her face up to his, she gazed deeply into his eyes. “Oh really?”

“I wish it could be different for me, Corinne. I’ve never wanted a woman this

badly, but I… have a problem.” Her brow furrowed. “What kind of problem?” “I can’t come.” “Can’t?” “If I could, I might have just from looking at you. That’s how much I desire you, but I can’t.” She released his cock and rested her palm against his chest. Sympathy crept into her eyes. “Have you tried seeing a doctor? Maybe there’s something wrong --” “Nothing can be done about it.” “I’m sorry.” She glanced at his cock that out stood, thick and hard, the head flushed red. A symbol of his eternal hunger. “That’s what I meant when I said my pleasure would come from giving you fulfillment.” “But that must be intolerable for you.” She wrapped her arms around her middle and stepped out of the shower. “Now I feel so damn guilty. Why didn’t you say something before?” “Corinne.” He turned off the water and followed her, drawing her into his arms. “I don’t know how to explain it, but I want to be with you more than anything. Please don’t be upset with me.” “I’m not. Just…”

“Disappointed?”

“A little. I wanted to give you the same pleasure you gave me.”

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“Holding you and kissing you is more pleasure than I could ever want or need. Will you sleep here tonight?” A tender smile touched her lips. Standing on tiptoe, she kissed him. “I would love to.” Drawing a deep breath, he held her close and rested his cheek against the top of her head. Good. At least for a short time he could pretend she belonged to him. His dreams and desires were his alone and something Bee and the evil master could never touch.

Chapter Four Corinne stirred in John’s arms. Her hand caressed his ribs and she tilted her face toward his, blinking sleep from her eyes. A slow smile spread across her lips. She had awakened twice that night, and both times John had been watching her. It was the same now. “Don’t you sleep?” “I’m an incurable insomniac. How about you? Did you sleep well?” She dropped her head onto his chest and tightened her grip on him. “Yes. I feel so safe with you.” John didn’t reply, but stroked her hair. Just a few short hours ago, he was blinded by passion and lost in a fantasy where he was happy again. He shouldn’t have slept with her, not a woman like Corinne. Had the demon in him pushed him to do such a wicked thing, or had the shred of humanity deep inside him longed for the closeness only she could offer? Regardless, it was the demon who now needed to fulfill his task. “Are you and your brother very close, Corinne?” “Yes, when we were kids. It was just the two of us, so we spent a lot of time together. When Murphy was sixteen, his girlfriend, Colby Finn, was killed. After that, he seemed to withdraw from everybody, so we grew apart.” “Did they catch her killer?” “No. I suppose that made the situation worse for him, since he never saw justice done.” Murphy Rogerio would find his justice all right, at least if John had anything to do with it.

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“Since he’s moved away and joined the police force here, he’s been calling home a lot more. When I told him I was coming here to do some research, I was really glad he asked me to stay with him. I thought we could catch up on a lot of things.” “Have you?” “Not yet. He had some vacation time coming and he left the day after I got here. I expected him back the other day. That’s why I accepted your dinner invitation. He called and said he wouldn’t be back until Friday.” “Where did he go on vacation?” “I’m not sure. He said he wanted to just get in his car and stop wherever he felt like.” “Little odd, isn’t it?” “Not for Murphy.” “I’d like to meet him.” “I’d like you to meet him too. Why don’t you come over for dinner on Friday?” “I’ll do that. In the meantime, would you like to stay here?” Tilting her face to his, she kissed his chin, then his lips. “I would like that very much, but right now, I need to pick up my car where we left it in town and stop at Murphy’s to pack some clothes.” Just the opportunity John had been looking for. He had hoped to find a discreet way of getting into her brother’s house, since he felt sure the killer’s scent originated from there. Though he hoped he was wrong, deep inside he knew the truth. Corinne’s brother was the killer he had been sent to slay. Less than an hour later, John parked behind Corinne’s car in her brother’s driveway. He glanced at the white ranch and drew a deep breath. The killer’s scent struck him hard, and sorrow tightened his chest. How could a woman like Corinne be related to a brutal murderer? Even worse, why did he have to care about the woman whose brother he was destined to send to Hell? Corinne smiled and slipped her arm through his. “Come on in. I’ll only be a minute.”

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Once inside the house, the killer’s scent was overwhelming. “So your brother’s a cop?” “Yes. He loves his job.” Corinne’s voice faded a bit as she disappeared into one of the rooms. “I’m just going to grab a few things.” “Take your time.” John glanced around the combination living room/kitchen. It seemed like a typical bachelor’s house. Plain furniture, a wide-screen television, and shelves filled with books, videos, and one or two old sports awards. Quietly he began opening cabinets, but found only the usual items. Pots, pans, dishes, a bottle of aspirin, and canned food. John walked down the hallway to Corinne’s room and glanced in. She was busy packing clothes into her suitcase.

He tapped on the door. “Mind if I use the bathroom?”

“Last door on the left. And put the seat down.” She winked.

“Will do.” He offered her a teasing smile and bowed from the neck.

On his way to the bathroom, John paused in the only other room in the house. It

had to be Murphy’s. Hoping Corinne wouldn’t catch him snooping, he quickly looked in the closet, under the bed, and in the dresser. All he found were several pornographic magazines and videos. Typical asshole. Correction. Typical murdering asshole. Still, there was nothing in the house to incriminate Murphy. Though he knew he wouldn’t find anything suspicious in the bathroom since Murphy shared it with Corinne, John checked it anyway, and he wanted to give that mandatory flush so Corinne wouldn’t think he’d lied about needing to use the toilet. When he opened the door and stepped out, he found Corinne waiting in the hall. “Just need to get my toothbrush and lotion.”

Standing on tiptoe, she kissed him. “I can’t wait to get back to your place.”

He wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her neck. Desire for her pierced

him like a double-edged sword. He must be pure evil for still wanting her when he

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knew within a few days he would be decapitating her brother with his hellish ax. “Neither can I.” Corinne offered him a coquettish smile before kissing him again, deeper this time. Her tongue slipped between his lips and sought his. Unable to resist, he tightened his hold on her and returned her kiss with equal passion. “I’ll only be another minute.” She slipped past him and into the bathroom. John walked to the kitchen and gazed out the window facing the wooded backyard. A pale shape in the trees caught his attention. “Ready?” Corinne asked as she joined him. He pointed to the shape. “What’s that?” “Just a shed. It’s full of mice.” “You’ve been in it?” She wrinkled her nose. “No way. Murphy said it’s absolutely infested. When he gets some time, he’s going to knock it down. Ready to go?” With a final glance toward the shed, John took her hand and they left the house.

*** About an hour before dawn, John slipped from his bed, careful not to wake Corinne, and dressed in silence. He glanced at her, sadness and affection tugging at his heart. Tearing his gaze from her, he left the house and drove to her brother’s. He parked at the end of the street and made his way into the woods behind the house. Brushing tree branches from his face, he approached the shed. There was no scent of mice, but the reek of death mingled with the killer’s potent stench. The lock on the door gave easily to his demonic strength. Even his superior vision took several moments to adjust to the utter blackness of the small room. Except for a tool chest, the place was empty. John stepped onto the creaking floor, noting it had been painted black. Still the cover couldn’t hide the residue of blood from his demonic eyes. Kneeling in front of the toolbox, he broke the lock and searched through the compartments. Just as he suspected, he found the killer’s trophies in the form of finger bones from each of his victims. Each bone was marked with initials John recognized as belonging to the list

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of victims he had seen listed in the newspaper, as well as many others. The bones were all kept together, except for one. It was stored by itself in a smaller compartment and boasted the initials CF. John didn’t doubt it belonged to Murphy’s very first victim, young Colby Finn. John closed the lid and stepped outside. Before he shut the door, the lock on the toolbox rattled. Squinting in the darkness, John noted it was no longer broken. Before he could take a closer look, the door slammed shut, its lock fixed as well. “Thought you could use some satanic intervention.” John spun and faced Bee who sat on a tree stump, his leg crossed over his knee. The black cloud figure seemed to grin at him. “We wouldn’t want Murphy to come home and find his locks broken. He might get nervous, thinking someone discovered his little secret.” “I’m wondering if he’ll come home at all. Maybe he finally realized he won’t keep getting away with it. I should leave and track him instead of waiting for him to show up on Friday.” “Oh, he’ll show. I guarantee it.” “And you’re so easy to believe, right?” “I wouldn’t mess around when it comes to Murphy. The boss wants him too badly. You just make sure you bring him home and don’t let his cute little sister make you go all soft.” “I know what I am and I know what I need to do. Besides, a guy like Murphy deserves to rot in Hell.” “Takes a demon to know a demon, that’s what I’ve always said. See you soon, John.” Bee vanished, leaving John alone to ponder his task.

*** “I’ll just be a minute.” Corinne slipped off the back of John’s Harley and kissed his cheek. Her pert little face looked adorable surrounded by the thick black helmet. “Are you sure you don’t want to come in?”

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John glanced at the imposing white church and shook his head. “I just want to let Father Andrew know what days I’m available to help at the daycare while I’m in town. Be right back.” He watched as she crossed the street and jogged up the church steps. Maybe someday on one of his trips to the mortal world, he would try to cross the threshold of a church, but not now. Who was he fooling? Not ever. If he tried to step inside, the building would probably burst into flames. He knew forgiveness wasn’t possible, not for someone like him. The offer for redemption by the angelic voice still rang in his head. He desperately wanted to believe that by stopping Murphy without harming another innocent soul, he might be awarded a second chance at a more favorable afterlife. Could it be true? Don’t be an idiot, John. Of course it’s not true. The closest to Heaven you’re going to get is this time you’re spending with Corinne. Yet even his moments with her were tainted, now he knew for certain he must kill her brother. His thoughts were interrupted by screaming from several blocks away. A man raced out of a shop and down the sidewalk. As he approached on the opposite side of the street, John noted he carried a gun and wore a frantic expression on his face. When the man ran into the church, John leapt off his bike and followed without hesitation. Thoughts of God and damnation faded, replaced by the horrible image of Corinne in the same building as the gunman. In the first row of pews, Corinne and Father Andrew stood, their hands raised and their faces taut with fear as the gunman shouted for them to shut up and hide him. Father Andrew led them into a room to the left of the altar. The scent of fear hung heavily on the air, not only from the priest and Corinne, but from the criminal as well. As John approached the room, he heard the man ranting. From what John could discern, he had just robbed the liquor store in the center of town and murdered the clerk. “You don’t have to get upset. We’ll do what you want,” Corinne said.

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John stepped into the room and the gunman spun, pointing his weapon at him.

“Where the fuck did you come from?”

“Hell.”

“Don’t be a wise ass. Get the fuck over there with the other two!”

“No.”

“John, do what he says!” Corinne snapped.

“There’s no need for anyone to get hurt.” Father Andrew took a step closer and

the gunman fired. With inhuman speed, John leapt in front of the shooter and knocked the priest to the floor. Pain exploded as the man emptied the gun into John’s chest. Before dropping to the floor, he grasped the weapon and ripped it from the man’s hand. The criminal raced out of the room as John’s soul momentarily spun through the dark void between Hell and Earth.

*** Once again grounded, John realized Corinne and Father Andrew were on their knees beside him. Corinne was crying and screaming, “Call 911!” The priest stood, but John grasped his pant leg. “No!” “Oh my God.” Corinne gasped, falling backwards onto the floor as John pushed himself to his knees. Panting, he gritted his teeth as his bones, muscles, and skin healed rapidly, forcing the bullets out of his body. The hunks of bloody metal dropped onto the floor. Father Andrew staggered against the wall and crossed himself. Feeling slightly dazed, John glanced around the room. His clothes were soaked with blood. A puddle of it marked the floor. Droplets of it splattered Corinne’s face and jeans where she had knelt beside him. “How long was I gone?” “About twenty seconds,” Father Andrew replied. “Which way did that man run?”

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“He went out the back door. The path there leads into the woods and ends at the old bridge.” “Thank you.” “John, wait.” Corinne grasped his shirt and pulled it open, not caring that she popped his buttons. If the situation hadn’t been so grave, he would have laughed. She ran her hands over his chest that was matted with blood yet bore no wounds. “How is this possible?” “I’ll explain everything when I get back.”

“To both of us, I hope,” Father Andrew said.

“You have my word, Father. I have to find that man before he does any more

damage. I have no right to ask this of either of you, but would you please keep what you saw here a secret?” Both of them nodded, and John raced out of the church. Just in time too, for he caught the scent of other people approaching -- most likely the police.

*** “Here, put this on.” Father Andrew handed Corinne a choir robe to conceal her bloody clothes. “Look at this mess. If anyone finds this, it won’t matter what we say. They’ll know what happened here.” “I still don’t get what did happen here. He was shot, Father. We saw it. His blood --” Corinne stopped mid-sentence and stared out the door. “Police.” “Just follow my lead.” Father Andrew motioned for her to leave the room. In the main church, two police officers approached, their faces tense. “Did you see a man with a gun come in here?” demanded the taller of the two. “Man with a gun?” Father Andrew glanced at Corinne in question. “You’re Murphy’s sister, aren’t you?” “Yes.” “And you’re sure you didn’t see or hear anything? The guy was acting pretty crazy, so I don’t know how you missed him if he came in here.”

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“We’ve been in the back room. Father was letting me try on a robe because I was interested in joining the choir.” “Louis.” The second cop stood in the open door at the back of the church. “Looks like he came right through. That’s probably why they didn’t see anything.” The officers raced out the door. “I better clean up that mess before we get any other visitors.” “I’ll help you, Father.” To their shock, when they stepped into the room, the blood had disappeared. Only the bullets and the gun remained on the floor. “God.” Corinne removed the robe and noted her jeans were no longer stained. Her heart pounded and she almost felt a bit dizzy. How could this be? If she and Father Andrew hadn’t both witnessed John’s death and resurrection, if the bullets and the gun weren’t lying there as evidence, she might have thought she hallucinated the whole situation. “I’m not sure if it’s due to an act of God, but I know John is here to help.” Father Andrew placed an arm around her. “This is impossible.” “Nothing is impossible, Corinne. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to sit down before I faint.”

*** Within moments, John picked up the gunman’s scent and trail in the woods behind the church. He caught up quickly, more angry with the man for putting Corinne in danger than for shooting him. One thing John hated about the chase was how it excited him. It must have been the demon inside him, but the reek of the man’s fear and the sound of his terrified breathing called to John like a deer calls to the wolf. The man glanced over his shoulder, his eyes widening as he caught sight of John. He ran faster, nearing the bridge Father Andrew had mentioned. John shoved him, sending him sprawling on the rocky ground.

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“I killed you.” The man’s chest heaved and his heartbeat echoed in John’s ears. “You’d like to think so, wouldn’t you?” John extended his hand and his ax appeared. He gripped it hard. Scrambling to his feet, the man raced onto the old bridge, slipped, and fell through the rotted wood onto the rocks and rushing water below. John approached and glanced at the body. He didn’t need to climb down to know his prey was dead. So much the better. He had been sent to kill Murphy Rogerio. Taking another life would only mark his soul yet again as well as please Bee. The ax vanished just as John caught the scent of other men, probably the police. Seconds later, he disappeared into the woods.

*** Before returning to the church, John discarded his shirt, which still bore the bullet holes, and changed into a fresh tank top. When he arrived, he stood outside the church for a moment, suddenly realizing he could step inside without fear -- he already had stepped inside. Still, he experienced a strange, tingling sensation as he entered. Father Andrew and Corinne stared at him from where they sat in the front pew, their expressions both curious and frightened. He was surprised they hadn’t run to the police, but after all, what could they tell them? He was sure his blood had vanished from the church floor as it always did. One of the perks of being a demon was he never left a trail. No bodily fluids, no footprints, nothing. Not ever. The only way anyone could learn his secret was if he confided in them, which he was about to do. Perhaps he should have taken today as the opportunity to disappear from Corinne’s life. He could still wait around and kill Murphy when he showed up, but his ties with Corinne would be severed. This time he couldn’t just leave the world without a second thought. This time, he had done the worst thing a demon could do. He had fallen in love. “Are you both all right?” he asked.

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“Yes. What about you?” Corinne stood and touched him. He glanced at her hand, so small and delicate against his thick biceps. “I’m fine.” “John, I don’t know what to say to you. What happened today? How can you be alive?” He touched her face, then turned to the priest. “I don’t know if this is the place for me to talk about it.” “I believe it is the best place of all.” “John, what happened to you was some kind of miracle. It had to be. I still can’t believe you’re all right. When I thought that man killed you, I felt like my heart was torn out.” Corinne embraced him tightly. “I didn’t want to think it could happen this fast, but I love you.” He withdrew from her and paced the aisle. “Don’t say that, Corinne. You have no idea what I am.” “You’ve been sent here. Haven’t you, John?” John paused, staring at the priest. “It seems impossible, but that’s the only answer. This sounds so childish, but are you an angel?” “No, Corinne.” John swallowed past tightness in his throat. Drawing a deep breath, he steeled himself for the rejection sure to come. “Not an angel.” “Then… No. John.” Sorrow and horror mingled in her eyes. “It can’t be true.” “I’m a demon. Sent by Satan to bring a killer to Hell.” Father Andrew crossed himself, though he didn’t appear shocked by the confession. “I sensed your fear of entering the church the other day. I felt something not of this world when I looked in your eyes, John, yet even after hearing your confession, I can’t believe you are purely evil.” “You have no idea who and what I am, Father. I am the soul of John Standcliff.” “Oh God.” Corinne shook her head and covered her mouth with her hands.

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“As a man, I killed five people and damned my soul to Hell. For the past threehundred-and-forty-eight years, I have existed in Hell, only allowed to walk this earth to gather other evil souls for the devil.” “But you don’t want this existence, do you?” the priest asked. For the first time in centuries, John felt tears threaten to spill. It took a moment for him to master his emotions enough to speak. “No.” “Are you sorry for your sins?” “All but three, Father.” “Wait a minute.” Corinne took a step closer to John. “You said you committed five murders. History recorded six. The Swift brothers, the two servants, and your sister.” “I didn’t kill Emily! I loved her. Raised her since she was a baby. She was like my daughter. After what the Swift brothers did to her, they didn’t deserve to live.” “Then you did kill them?” “Yes, and I do not regret that.” Even after so many years, the pain of Emily’s death stung him like a fresh wound. His fists clenched as he recalled finding her battered body in the woods outside their house, of hearing her final terrified words before she died. “Tell us what happened.” “For your damn story?” “I don’t care about the story. I’m not going to write the stupid story.” Corinne cupped his face in her hand. “I care about you, John.” Father Andrew also stepped closer. “Talk to us. I can’t imagine what you have endured for your sins. Perhaps you were sent here for a reason other than killing.” John’s pulse raced and his head spun. Should he talk to them? Tell the horrors that burned his soul for so many years? He had expected Corinne to reject him in terror and disgust. Instead she stood here, caressing him, comforting him, asking to hear his side of the story. This was a temptation he could not resist.

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“The Swifts were a wealthy family. They always seemed to get what they wanted. Whenever they did something wrong, people looked the other way, even the church. They made some hefty donations, so when they drank too much or spent their time with women of questionable character, no one said anything or treated them any differently. “Emily was eighteen and beautiful. Many young men looked at her, but it wasn’t hard for me to keep her safe. She was an innocent girl. I wanted to find a good husband for her, one who would treat her well. It was no secret Thomas Swift had ideas about her, but he was far too old and cruel. When I told him to stay away from her, he didn’t have the courage to argue with me. Instead he waited until I was out working our farm, then he and his brothers took Emily and --” John paused, balling his fists hard. Corinne touched his hand. Slowly his fist unclenched and his fingers entwined with hers. “It’s all right,” she said. “Tell us.” “They beat and defiled her. On my way to chop firewood, I found her behind our house. She wasn’t fully aware anymore, but she was murmuring to herself and that’s how I found out what they did. She died right there on the forest floor.” “John.” Corinne tightened her hand on his. “I don’t remember much of what happened next. I was so furious, so empty at the thought of Emily not being with me anymore. I hated those bastards. Hated them so much.” John’s head reeled with the memories. “I remember taking my ax and breaking into the Swift house. I killed Benjamin in the foyer. Took off his head. Michael must have heard the commotion because when I looked at the top of the stairs, there he was. I was past thinking. I just went after him and killed him too. Thomas stuck his head out of his room, and I wanted him. A couple of servants jumped on me, but I was bigger and stronger than they were, so I threw them off. They fell down the stairs and broke their necks. I only meant to push them aside. I never meant to kill them.”

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John glanced from Corinne to the priest, panic coursing through him. He needed them to believe he hadn’t intended to kill the servants, for it was their deaths, not the killing of the brothers, that had plagued him all these years. “I believe you,” Corinne said. “So do I.” “Thank you. Last, I killed Thomas. I knew the Swifts would never get justice if they stood before the law. Not them. I couldn’t bear that thought after seeing what they did to Emily.” “Why didn’t you kill Richard Swift too?” Corinne asked. “To the best of my recollection, there was no fourth brother. If he did exist, then he must have told such stories to protect his brothers’ names and hide the fact that they were filthy, raping animals. You do believe me? Corinne, you have to believe me.” John grasped both of her hands and dropped to his knees in front of her. Other than when he found Emily dying, he had never felt so vulnerable in his entire existence than at this moment. “I do believe you.” She knelt and took him in her arms. Closing his eyes, he rested his cheek against the top of her head. He felt as if a thousand red-hot chains had been lifted from his soul. “So do I.” Father Andrew rested a hand on John’s shoulder. “But what happened afterward? How did you become like you are?” “Two days after I killed the Swifts and the servants, I was hanged in the town square. I awoke in Hell. I won’t go into detail about how terrible it is. Just know that you never want to go there. The only time I’m allowed out is to take an evil soul from this world. It doesn’t happen often. Usually people are allowed to live out their lives and then be judged. Someone has to be pretty awful for Satan to send a demon after him.” “The gunman. Were you after him?” asked the priest. “No. I intervened because…”

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“Of Corinne.” Father Andrew smiled slightly. “You entered this church, which you fear, to protect her, didn’t you?” “Yes.” “What would happen if you didn’t do the devil’s work? If you refused to take the soul back to Hell?” “I tried that at first. If I don’t perform my duty, I’m punished more than usual, but that’s not why I stopped rebelling. As bad as I am, the souls I claim are a thousand times worse. I’m doing this world a favor by taking them out of it.” “And who are you after now?” “I’m after the man responsible for the abductions that have taken place in Maine, only they’re not abductions. The women have been murdered. If I don’t take him, there’s no telling how many more women will die. He won’t just stop. Not a soul like that.” “I see.” Corinne’s brow furrowed. “You know who he is?” “Yes, my sweet Corinne.” John’s heart twisted. He stroked her face, then turned away, unable to look at her when he delivered the blow. “It’s your brother.” Corinne stared at John in horror. “My brother? That’s crazy. Murphy is a police officer. He would never abduct anyone, much less commit murder.” “I wish it wasn’t true, but it is. I tracked his scent, through you, to his home. He is the one I’m looking for.” “Through me?” Corinne’s brow furrowed. “I trusted you. I cared about you, and you only slept with me to get to my brother?” “No. I slept with you because I wanted you so badly it was almost painful. I know it was a terrible thing to do, given the circumstances, but I never wanted to hurt you, Corinne.” He reached for her, but she knocked his hands aside and glared at him. “How can you be sure it’s Murphy? You could be wrong.” Father Andrew rested a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t think he is. John has been sent here for a reason.”

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“If Murphy has done these things, then he doesn’t need to be dragged into Hell by some demon. He needs help.” “Over the centuries, I’ve dealt with enough of his kind to know there is no help for someone like him.” “You mean someone like you!” “Corinne, I know how hard this must be for you to hear, but if we’re to help Murphy, we must listen to what John has to say.” “I don’t want to hear any more of what John has to say!” “I am so sorry, my love.” “How can you pretend to care about me at all when you’re going to kill my brother?” “He’s a murderer and it is my duty.” “Your duty to be Satan’s puppet.” Corinne closed her eyes and sighed. “You don’t have to be. You said yourself you’ve denied him in the past, why not now? John, if Murphy has done what you claim he has, then I don’t want him to hurt anyone else either. But give him a chance to get some help. Let the police handle this. Please.” She grasped his hands and stared into his eyes, her expression pleading. Never had John felt so torn. By doing what she asked, he would not only be forfeiting a possible chance to get out of Hell, but he was sure to be subjected to a punishment that made chopping trees in the steel forest look like a jaunt in a park. “John, when you were hanged, you weren’t given a chance to atone for your sins. I’m asking you to please give Murphy that opportunity.” “Then you do believe he is guilty?” She and the priest exchanged glances. Both turned to him and nodded. “Perhaps in sparing Murphy, you will be sparing your soul as well.” John smiled wryly. “No, Father. That’s not how it works for someone like me. The most I can hope for is Corinne not to hate me when I’m gone.” “I don’t think I could ever hate you, John. No matter what.”

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Drawing a deep breath, he approached the altar and gazed up at the cross hanging behind it. He might have prayed for mercy if he thought it would do any good. “All right. I’ll try to get him to turn himself in before I do anything permanent.” Corinne embraced him tightly. “Thank you.” John wrapped his arms around her and held her close, though when his eyes met the priest’s a look of understanding passed between them. Somehow John knew Father Andrew sensed the graveness of his sacrifice.

Chapter Five Corinne clung to John from where she sat on the back of his Harley. She wanted to believe this afternoon had been a horrible nightmare, but it wasn’t. From the depths of her soul, she knew all he had told her was true. Though believing Murphy had killed those women was hard to grasp, it at least explained his sudden change of behavior years ago and his desire to move so far from Texas. During all that time, he had not once returned home or extended an invitation for his family to visit. It had taken a phone call from Corinne saying she was on her way to Maine for him to ask her into his house. And what about John? He had been shot and killed right before her eyes. Part of her still couldn’t quite believe he was a demon. If he were a true creature of the devil, wouldn’t he have lied about it? If his duty was to slay Murphy, why would he confess to her? John stopped in his driveway and remained on the bike for a moment, his long legs stretched out for balance, the muscles straining against his jeans. Even after all that happened, Corinne still desired him. Even worse, she genuinely cared for him. “You can get your stuff, then I’ll drive you home, even though I don’t like the idea of you staying in that house alone.” “You want me to go?” “I thought it’s what you would want.” “When this is all over and Murphy turns himself in, you’ll be leaving.” “If Murphy turns himself in.” “He will. I don’t care what he’s done, my brother still has some good inside him. He’s sick and he needs help. This probably all started way back when Colby was killed.

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My parents should have made him see a counselor to deal with it, but they didn’t believe in that kind of help.” John sighed deeply. “About Colby…” “Yes?” He turned to her, gazing deeply into her eyes. “You’re right. He should have seen a counselor to deal with what happened.” “And if he gets help now, maybe he’ll be okay. I know if he killed those women he cannot be allowed on the streets, but thank you for not damning him to Hell.” “I don’t damn anyone, Corinne. Don’t you see? We damn ourselves.” “If Murphy is what you say he is, do you think he intended to turn out like this? Did you intend to kill all those people?” “Most of them.” “You were mad with grief.” “I murdered two innocent people. Those servants had families and lives. I took that away from them, just like your brother has taken the lives of those women. I had to pay, and eventually so must he. You know that, right? Even if I don’t take him now, his judgment day will come.” “But at least you’re giving him the chance to change. I can never thank you enough for that.” “You already have, just by being with me.” She slipped off the bike, her pulse quickening. Stepping closer to him, she rested a hand on his hard thigh and touched his cheek. “I want to stay with you for as much time as we’re allowed.” “I want the same.” She kissed him gently, first his upper lip, then his lower, then full on the mouth. When the kiss broke, they gazed into each other’s eyes, the tips of their noses touching. “When this is over, I’ll really never see you again?” “Not if you keep walking the straight and narrow.”

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“I’m going to miss you so much. I know I’ll never love anyone as much as I love you.” “You’ve given me a greater gift than I ever imagined possible. I’ll always have the memory of this time with you. It’s something no one in Hell can ever take from me.” A sick feeling churned inside Corinne. The thought of him spending eternity in Hell was too awful. She slipped her arms around his neck and held him tightly. “I wish you didn’t have to go back there. You don’t deserve it, John. You’re not evil. A wicked man wouldn’t care about people as much as you do.” He squeezed her so tightly she felt each rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. “Let’s go inside,” he whispered close to her ear. “All right.” He dismounted and grasped her hand as they walked to the house. Once they stepped inside, he closed the door behind them and took her in his arms. “Corinne.” He stroked her face and gazed at her. The sadness in his eyes tugged at her heart. “If you don’t want to, I understand, but I’m asking you to please let me make love with you again.” Desire shot through her. Just the thought of making love with him tightened her nipples and made her clit ache, yet she recalled what happened the last time they had sex. “But you can’t enjoy it, John. It doesn’t seem fair.” “I do enjoy it. I want to be close to you and make you as happy as I can during the time we have. Touching and kissing you gives me more pleasure than I deserve.” He kissed her cheek, then her mouth. The tender pressure of his lips flooded her with passion. When his tongue slipped between her lips and fenced with hers, she couldn’t resist. She clung to him, pressing her body close to his. The sensation of his stiff cock against her incited her lust even more. From the moment she had seen and felt it, she had imagined licking and sucking his cock, yet it seemed too cruel to ask him to accommodate her. Knowing he could not fully share her pleasure diminished her desire a bit.

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He must have sensed her concern, because he said, “I don’t blame you for not wanting to continue. This all must be a terrible shock for you.” “It’s not that.” “Then what?” “I want to touch you all over. I want to kiss you in places I’ve only fantasized about.” His eyes gleamed with passion. “Where?” “Here.” Her hand swept over his bulging, denim-covered crotch. His eyes slipped shut and he groaned, a low sound of intense pleasure. “You don’t know how much I want you to do that.” “But it seems like a terrible tease for you.” “I would rather be teased than unloved. I would rather feel your kisses and caresses than spend what time I have here cold, alone, and living as a demon instead of a man. Don’t you see, Corinne? You make me feel human again. You make me forget what I am, and I’ve needed this kind of closeness for so long. Damn. I’m so desperate I’m starting to sound like a woman.” “You don’t sound like a woman. No one has ever said such beautiful things to me before.” Corinne stood on tiptoe and brushed a kiss across his lips while her fingers unfastened his belt and unzipped his jeans.

*** John drew a deep breath and released it slowly, his cock leaping before she even touched it. He ripped off his jacket and shirt, then kicked off his boots and allowed her to completely remove his jeans. Standing with his legs braced apart, he gazed in fascination as she knelt at his feet and kissed his left leg from shin to hip. “You have such a beautiful body, John.” Her words thrilled him, turning him on almost as much as her caresses and the powerful scent of her lust. It pleased him that she found pleasure in touching his body, just as he loved touching hers. The urge to take her in his arms, carry her upstairs, and

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make love to her battled with his desire to let her keep control of their games. He opted for the latter, at least for a while. John stared, transfixed, as she covered his inner thigh with feathery kisses, then used the tip of her tongue to trace patterns over the flesh. She licked the joining of his hip, then moved to his other leg and lapped it from ankle to thigh. The sensations were almost too wonderful to endure, especially when she inched closer to his cock. She paused for a moment, her breath caressing the bulging crown of his erection. “Corinne,” he murmured, threading his fingers through her hair. His legs and buttocks tensed, the muscles steel hard as he resisted the urge to thrust against her. Tilting her face upward, she gazed at him with such raw desire burning in her eyes that, almost impossibly, his cock stiffened even more. “Do you want me to stop?” Shaking his head, he buried his hands in her hair and moistened his lips which had suddenly gone dry. “Go on. Please.” She leaned close and touched her lips to the base of his cock. She kissed up and down its length, then gently nibbled along the same trail. John tried to control his breathing, but it was impossible. The pleasure was too keen. Corinne’s tongue laved every inch of his cock. It swirled around the ruddy head, then tickled the sensitive ridge along the underside. One of her soft, warm hands grasped his balls and squeezed gently. She kneaded and stroked the sac while sucking his cock into her mouth. As she sucked, she ran her tongue over the cock head. Closing his eyes, John tightened his leg muscles so hard they trembled. His head arched back, his pulse pounding in his ears. In spite of the severity of the sensations, he was careful not to clutch her head too tightly. She lapped his cock from head to root and back again, then took as much of his balls as she could fit into her mouth and sucked them. John moaned with pleasure-pain. Her hands caressed his legs and buttocks while she continued sucking and licking his balls. Once again she returned to his cock, this time drawing it so deeply into her mouth that it felt as if she were devouring him. Had he been human, he would have come ages

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ago. She continued her marvelous attack for what seemed like forever. Sweat beaded on his brow and he felt so hot he might have thought he was back in Hell, had he not been in the presence of such an angelic woman. “Corinne, that’s enough!” he gasped, staggering against the door. She stood, her body pressing against his. The scent of her arousal filled him and he felt a quiver run through her from head to toe. “You’re hot.” She gazed at him. “Your skin is always cool.” Touching a hand to her nape, he spoke against her lips. “You’ve warmed me.” “I want you so much, John. So, so much!” This time he sank to his knees. Tugging off her boots, he pulled her jeans and underwear off. Regaining his feet, he slipped his hand beneath her shirt, caressing her breasts, loving their warmth and softness. Gently he pressed her against the door. Bending his knees, he slid his cock deep inside her pussy. It was like burying himself in a warm pool. His hands slid beneath her buttocks and lifted her, pumping her onto his steely erection. Corinne wrapped her legs around him tightly and murmured his name in breathy sobs. When she came, he cried out as well, stabbed by sensation yet unable to find the release he so desperately desired. Slowly he lowered her to the ground, still supporting her limp frame. She kissed his chest and ran her tongue over one of his nipples. “I wish I could make you come. I feel guilty that you can give me --” “Stop it, Corinne.” He tilted her face up toward his. “If anyone should feel guilty, it’s me.” A sad smile touched her lips. “Maybe neither of us should be guilty.” He nodded and kissed her forehead. “No matter what happens, Corinne, always remember I care for you deeply. Please don’t ever forget or doubt that.” “I won’t.” “Promise me.” “I promise.”

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Sighing, he closed his eyes and rested his cheek against the top of her head. It was a silly promise, yet it comforted him. As long as he knew she didn’t hate him, he could endure whatever horrors eternity held.

Chapter Six John stood by the fireplace in Murphy Rogerio’s house, his gaze fixed on the front door. On the couch, Corinne twisted her hands in her lap. He wished he had never allowed himself to love her. It had done nothing but complicate their lives. He glanced at Father Andrew who paced the room. The priest had agreed to be present when John and Corinne confronted Murphy about the killings. For some reason, the man’s attendance calmed John a bit. Maybe the situation could end without the violence he had expected. Even so, he certainly shouldn’t be happy about it. Who knew what terrible punishment awaited him when he returned to Hell without Murphy’s soul? The killer’s scent grew stronger. John took a step closer to the door, then stopped as it opened and Murphy walked in. Damn it. Why did he have to look so much like his sister? “Hey, Corinne.” Murphy smiled, his blue gaze darting from his sister to the priest to John. He stared at John for longer than the others, a hint of fear and apprehension in his eyes. Good. The bastard recognized danger when he saw it. “What’s going on?” “Murphy, this is Father Andrew and my friend John.” “Hello, Murphy.” The priest extended his hand. Murphy dropped his suitcase and accepted the handshake, his brow furrowing. “Is something wrong? You all look like somebody died.” “They did,” John stated. “But you know that, don’t you?” “Corinne, where the hell did you dig up this guy?” John smiled wickedly and pointed a finger at Murphy. “Great guess.”

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“John, please,” Corinne murmured, approaching her brother. “Murphy, we know.” “Know what?” “About the women, son,” Father Andrew said. “What women?” “Oh come now.” John folded his arms across his chest. “You can do better than that.” “Look, I don’t know what the hell you’re all talking about.” But he did. Murphy’s scent grew stronger with each passing moment. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and John noted the desperation in his eyes. “God.” Corinne closed her eyes tightly. “It’s true, isn’t it? You did abduct those women.” “Where did you get that story? From him?” Murphy pointed at John. “Who the hell is this guy, Corinne? Look, I’m taking him under arrest. If he knows something about the missing women, then --” “I know what you did. Admit it and save yourself.” John strode closer to Murphy who had drawn his gun. “Murphy, don’t.” Corinne stepped between the men. “You need help.” “Get out of the way, Corinne. This friend of yours is dangerous.” “Believe me, Murphy, it’s best if you surrender,” Father Andrew said. “That way you can get help. We know all about the remains of those women in your shed.” Murphy’s hand trembled, but he didn’t lower the gun. “No.” “You can get help.” Corinne reached for her brother, but he stepped back. “There is no help for me. God.” Murphy lowered the gun and staggered against the door. “I can’t stop it. After the first time, it was like some kind of drug.” “You can get help. Just turn yourself in.” “No, Corinne. You are so stupid. You have no idea what it’s like. The first night you got here, I wanted to do it to you too. That’s why I had to get away.”

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“Turn yourself in,” said Father Andrew. “If you don’t admit and atone, you’ll damn your soul.” “That’s bullshit. Who are you, FBI?” Murphy glared at John. “You fucking scumbags would use my sister and a priest to get to me.” “I’m not FBI. I’m something much worse, but if you turn yourself in, you’ll probably never see me again.” “Turn myself in?” Murphy laughed humorlessly. “Do you have any idea what they do to cops in prison? Forget it. Corinne, tell me the truth, does anybody else know about this?” “No. Murphy, I know you’ll do the right thing.” “That would have been killing you when I felt like it.” He jerked Corinne into his arms and pressed the gun beneath her jaw. “We’re getting out of here, Corinne, and if either of these assholes tries to stop me, I’ll blow you away.” “Murphy!” “You’re making a mistake.” John took a step closer, his hands clenching and unclenching. All he had to do was think about it and his ax would appear in his grasp. Still, he needed to be careful. A sudden move would most likely frighten Murphy into shooting Corinne. “Don’t do this! I’m your sister!”

“Sorry about this, Corinne. I really am.”

Across the room, Father Andrew pushed over a shelf of books. The noise

distracted Murphy for two seconds, all it took for John, with his demonic speed, to reach him and tear the gun from his hand. He pushed Corinne onto the floor and extended his hand. The ax appeared and Murphy stared in disbelief. “What the fuck are you?”

“John, no!” Corinne screamed, clinging to his arm.

Murphy bolted across the room and out the back door.

Growling, John shoved Corinne aside. At the touch of his ax, the demon in him

had taken over completely. He chased Murphy outside and grasped him before he

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reached the woods. The man struggled like a wild beast, but his mortal strength was no match for that of a demon. John dragged him to the tree stump near the shed and thrust his head and neck upon it. “John!” Corinne screamed from the doorway. Father Andrew held her tightly. John raised his ax, his heart pounding. He hesitated, his gaze fixed on Corinne. At that moment, she hated him. He saw it in her eyes and that knowledge lacerated his soul. Murphy kicked and writhed in his grip. The ax weighed heavily on his raised arm. John’s gaze switched to Father Andrew who nodded the slightest bit. Even the priest knew, just as John did, Murphy didn’t want redemption. Not now. Perhaps not ever. If John released him, more women were sure to die. Perhaps even Corinne. If he claimed him, he would lose her love. Corinne had stopped struggling and cast him one last look before turning away. John swung his ax and Murphy’s struggles ceased. “Great job.” Bee laughed close to John’s ear as a thick black fog surrounded him and Murphy. “Blew your chance at redemption though. You harmed poor little Corinne, an absolutely innocent soul.” John scarcely listened to Bee, but stared at Corinne before he lost complete focus on the world of the living. Her gaze met his for a second. Perhaps it was a trick of his mind, but her expression was no longer filled with hatred, only sorrow.

*** John’s arms throbbed with each strike of his ax against the steel tree. His muscles burned and ached, but he didn’t care. His thoughts drifted to Corinne. He wondered if she had recovered from the shock of learning her brother was a murderer, of having him beheaded in front of her. Only Corinne and Father Andrew would ever know what truly happened. There would be no remains of Murphy’s body left, nor any sign John had ever existed in their world. Murphy would be another missing person. The abductions would end. Perhaps John’s path would cross Murphy’s someday. In Hell, one never knew what might happen. “John Standcliff,” the sweet, familiar woman’s voice whispered in his ear.

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He stopped swinging his ax and stood, panting, sweat trickling down his body. It couldn’t be. A small, soft hand caressed his chest, stroking through the damp mat of hair. He glanced down at the pale, lovely arms wrapped around him. His heart pounded as she stepped in front of him. Though she wore Corinne’s face, he knew it wasn’t his love. “But it’s a nice fantasy, isn’t it?” She smiled, revealing sharp, white teeth. She ran her hands over his chest, her fingers gripping the muscles. “Hmm. Such a sexy body. Wouldn’t it feel good to be buried deep inside me?” John grasped her hands and shoved them away. The image of Corinne faded to that of a lanky blond woman with piercing gray eyes and voluptuous red lips. “Don’t you recognize me?” It was the voice of the angel who had tempted him with redemption. “Angel? I did have you fooled. You honestly thought an angel would ask you to kill, even a wicked man like Murphy Rogerio, to save your soul? Bee is right. You are fun to play with.” “Leave me alone. I have work to do.” “You dare speak to me like that? She who sits beside the Evil One? His first and most powerful wife?” She tore the ax from John’s hand and hurled it into one of the steel trees. The blade embedded in the trunk with a horrifying thud. The woman lashed out, raking her nails across John’s face. “On your knees to your queen!” “I have never knelt to the Evil One, so I will surely never kneel to you.” “Then you will suffer as you have never suffered before, John Standcliff.” She raised her clawed hand and bared her fangs, but before she struck, a loud voice, androgynous in nature, rang out. “You have no right to him.” The woman seemed to shrink into herself. “What are you doing here? This is our realm and he is one of our souls.” “No longer.”

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The woman and the forest faded into blackness, similar to when John traveled with Bee between Hell and Earth, only this space was much more pleasant. It felt warm and safe. “You have been given a second chance at life, John Standcliff,” the voice spoke again. Unlike the voice of the woman who he had thought was an angel, this voice inspired no mistrust or confusion. For the first time in centuries, John felt at peace. “Live this life well.” “How can I know this is real and not another trick?”

“I think you already know the answer to that.”

“Why me? Why now?”

“Someone who loves you very much has prayed for your soul and she just

happened to receive an answer.” “She?” “You know who she is.” Warmth and affection filled him, wiping away any remnants of Hell. Yes. He knew who she was.

*** Corinne drew a deep breath and sat on the church steps, gazing at the afternoon sky. It had been a month since Murphy’s death, though she and Father Andrew were the only ones who knew the truth. To everyone else, Murphy was a missing person, one with a warrant on his head. She and Father Andrew had agreed out of respect for the murdered women’s families, they would reveal to the law the contents of Murphy’s shed. It saddened her deeply that her brother would be remembered as a brutal killer, but his victims had the right to justice. At first she had hated John for not giving Murphy a chance, but once the shock wore off, she realized her brother hadn’t wanted redemption. After the stories John had told of Hell, she didn’t doubt Murphy must have changed his mind by now. She

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shuddered to think of him in that horrible place, and even worse, to know John was also there. John didn’t belong there. He hadn’t planned to kill. He hadn’t taken pleasure in those murders. His actions had been those of a desperate man. For the past several weeks, she had delved more deeply into the Swift murders. Rather than returning home, she’d decided to rent an apartment here and finish her research. She’d promised John she wouldn’t write the fictional love story, but now she wanted to find a way to clear John’s name and write the true account of what had happened back in 1656. Just when she had almost given up hope, she’d tracked down an old family diary from the town’s preacher. It contained Thomas Swift’s confession about what he and his brothers had done to Emily. It also contained John’s confession given in confidence directly before his hanging. With the permission of the owner, Corinne had the diary examined and authenticated. She only wished there was some way to let John know the historical account was now correct. If only she could hold him one more time and let him know she loved him and understood why he had to kill Murphy. Glancing down the sidewalk, she considered getting something to eat before helping Marge at the daycare. Her gaze fell on a tall, well built man walking toward her. Her heart skipped a beat. God, he looked so much like John. Probably because it was John! He paused at the bottom of the church steps and gazed at her with longing in his eyes. “I can’t believe it,” she murmured, then raced down the stairs and leapt into his arms. He held her so tightly she almost couldn’t breathe, but it didn’t matter. Suddenly an awful thought struck her. “Who are you here for this time?” “No one. I’ve been released.” He held her gaze, a slight smile on his lips. “Is that possible?”

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“I didn’t think it was, but here I am.” “How?” “Someone prayed for me.” She smiled and hugged him tighter. Had it been her prayers that were answered, or Father Andrew’s? It didn’t matter. John was here. “Corinne, I have nothing to offer you. I’ve been given this body, but I have no job, no money. Nothing except my love.” “That’s all I want.” “I will build a new life and then I will give you everything I possibly can.” “Just give me your heart, John.” “It’s already yours.” Elated, she laughed and caressed his face. “This is real, isn’t it?” “Yes. It’s real.” An overwhelming desire filled her. “Come home with me, John. There’s something I want to give you.” “What?” Glancing over her shoulder, she grinned. “I don’t think I can tell you while we’re standing in front of a church.” He drew a visible breath, his eyes gleaming with lust. “I think you’ve guessed.” She took his hand and led the way to her temporary home in the center of town. Corinne opened the door to her studio apartment and stepped inside, John close behind her. He glanced around the spacious, sunny room. It was furnished in plain white modern, not exactly Corinne’s taste, but she had tried making it homier with pictures and knickknacks of her own. “Nice place. Bright. Like you.” He cupped her face in his hand and stroked her cheek with his thumb.

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Love and desire shone in his eyes and Corinne’s heart swelled with joy. In spite of all that happened over the past month, she felt blessed. She had a second chance with the man she loved. Somehow she knew both of them would make the most of it. A slight smile on her lips, Corinne walked to the picture window across the room and drew the curtains. She turned back to John and held his gaze while slipping off her sundress. He drew a deep breath, moistening his lips as he unzipped his jeans. Corinne’s heart raced as she watched him undress, baring the magnificent body she remembered so well. His physical appearance hadn’t changed. Still tall and powerfully muscled, he exuded virility like no man she had ever met before. Corinne was about to slip off her panties, but he strode toward her. “Let me.” He knelt in front of her and slid the silk and lace over her hips and down her legs. She stepped out of the panties while he caressed her thighs. His callused palms stroked her smooth flesh with the utmost tenderness. Corinne ran her hands over his broad shoulders and sighed with pleasure. His flesh felt so warm, so human. Threading her fingers through his thick, dark hair, she closed her eyes and murmured the endearments she had imagined telling him over the past month. “Corinne, I love you.” He wrapped his arms around her and pressed his lips to her belly. “I love you so much.” “I love you too, John, I -- Oh!” She gasped with pleasure as his mouth covered her clit. His tongue gently laved the plump flesh, rolling over and over it until her legs threatened to collapse. She needn’t have worried. John cupped her buttocks and supported her almost completely while using his tongue and lips to explore her delicate flesh. His tender attack relentlessly pushed her closer and closer to orgasm. To Corinne, nothing existed except this gorgeous man and the wonderful sensations he inspired. She gasped and tightened her grip on his hair. Orgasm rolled through her, and she cried out, thrusting her hips closer to his face. He licked her until the last ripple coursed through her body.

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Languid and fulfilled, she allowed him to sweep her into his arms and carry her to the bed. He lay beside her, caressing her face. Trailing his fingers over her breasts, he kissed her. Corinne opened her eyes and smiled at him. “Your turn.” He spread his legs to accommodate her as she knelt between his thighs and trailed her fingers and palms up and down his cock, as if shaping clay on a pottery wheel. Her thumb stroked over his cock head and ran along the underside until his buttocks tightened and he shifted his hips with scarcely restrained desire. His thick, well veined cock felt so hard. It looked ready to explode. She couldn’t begin to imagine how excited he must be. After all, he was about to experience his first orgasm in over three hundred years. She wanted it to be wonderful for him. Leaning closer, she ran her tongue up and down his shaft. He groaned and clutched her head, his fingers anxiously stroking her hair. She continued lapping him, savoring his texture and scent. His cock twitched, so she grasped its base to steady it as she licked. Reaching the bulging head, she rolled her tongue over it several times before she began a rhythmic sucking that drove him wild. “Oh, Corinne! This is too good, love. Too good.” But she wanted to make it better. She sucked faster and swirled her tongue over his cock head. Arousing him excited her so much she was almost ready to come again too. Her stomach clenched with anticipation and her nipples swelled and ached with need. “Corinne,” he breathed, grasping her and pushing her onto her back. Covering her body with his, he used his cock head to circle her pussy lips. “Yes, oh yes!” she gasped, wrapping her arms and legs around him. He thrust into her with excruciating slowness, then pulled out almost to the tip. Corinne forced her eyes open, wanting to see him as ecstasy finally consumed him. In spite of his slow penetration she guessed by the harshness of his breathing and the blissful expression on his face that it would be a matter of seconds before he exploded.

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Corinne didn’t care, since she was also on the verge of shattering. He drove in and out of her heated body, and Corinne met him thrust for thrust, her internal muscles clamping hard around his cock. Suddenly she came, pulsing and quivering in ultimate pleasure. Her eyes squeezed shut for several seconds, but she managed to force them open in time to watch him come. It was a beautiful sight. His eyes closed tightly and his lips parted as he panted her name. The tendons in his gorgeous neck stood out and his heaving chest pressed hard against her. Slowly he relaxed upon her and buried his face in the hollow of her shoulder. They lay, content, in each other’s arms, listening to their breathing return to normal. John rolled onto his back and tugged her to his chest. He kissed her hair. “Thank you, Corinne. That was --”

“Too wonderful for words.”

“Yes. Far too wonderful.”

For several moments, they lay in silence, then Corinne stirred. Sitting up, she

gazed at him, a tender smile touching her lips. His eyes were closed, his expression peaceful as he enjoyed his first sleep in over three hundred years.

Afterward Five years later, after much perseverance, John left his job as a laborer and established his own construction business which thrived well. Corinne wrote the true account of the killing of Emily Standcliff, then continued her career as a writer of romance fiction. All of her heroes were inspired by a tall, handsome man with a dark past and an unbreakable spirit.

The End

Kate Hill Kate Hill’s fiction and poetry have appeared in publications both on and off the Internet. When she’s not writing, Kate enjoys reading, working out, and spending time with her family. Visit her online at www.kate-hill.com