Neon Blue by E Frost (best book reader .TXT) 📗

reach across the table to him before I think about it.

With a faint grin, the demon takes my hand. “You know, sweet meat, that’s the first time you’ve touched me.”

He’s right, and I start to withdraw my hand. The demon tightens his fingers around mine and rubs his thumb very gently over my knuckles. It’s a soft touch. Innocent, in a way the demon’s touches never are. Slowly, I relax and let him hold my hand.

“Rowena wasn’t the first?” I ask.

“Nope. More like the tenth.”

What he’s said begins to penetrate the warm haze of his skin on mine. The tenth to summon him. Several hundred years of servitude. “How old are you?”

“Human years? Dunnow. First time I was called topside was when az-Zahir was runnin’ things in what you call Cairo now. ‘Round the turn of the last millennium, I’d guess.”

I swallow a gasp. “The last millennium? You’re a thousand years old?”

“More.” The demon shrugs. “Time moves different down below. And there was a long time when I wasn’t—” He pauses. Frowns a little at the table between us. The chorizo on my plate sizzles. “As aware as I am now.”

“Aware?” I ask warily, not sure that I want to know anything about demonic awareness.

“Lemures don’t spend a lot of time thinkin’. They mostly swarm. And eat.” He picks an olive out of one of the bowls between us and pops it into his mouth. “Nothin’ as tasty as this, though.”

I definitely do not want to know what lemures eat. Or even exactly what a lemure is, although I have a vague memory from my Supernatural Creatures course. A line-drawing from one of my textbooks flashes across my mind’s eye. A disembodied alimentary canal attached to a huge, red eye. I put my fork down.

“You were a lemure?”

“Yup. Born and bred a demon. What were you hopin’, that you could appeal to the human side of me? Sorry, all demon.”

I draw my hand out of his. “Of course you are.”

His eyes glint in the restaurant’s atmospheric candlelight. “Aw, were we havin’ a moment there, witchy-poo?”

To think I felt a second’s sympathy for him.

“Fuck you.” I mouth the words so the other diners won’t hear.

Anytime. You ready now?

I shudder. He’s just reminded me viscerally of what he is. And of what I’ve agreed to do with him. How, where and when you want. Isn’t that the deal?

He masticates another olive. “Yup.”

“Then I guess the question is, are you ready now?” I say it aloud. Thought can’t adequately convey my bitterness.

The shark’s grin. “Perpetually.” He props his chin on his knuckles and watches me. “But I think you’re gonna need some warmin’ up.”

“No. Let’s just get it over with.”

“Mmm.” He blinks lazily. “I don’t think so. In fact, I think you’re gonna need a lotta warmin’ up.” He rubs the toe of his boot up my ankle. “Enjoy it, sweet meat. Isn’t that what women want? Lotsa foreplay?”

Not with a demon, I don’t. Wen-Long better call soon.

The conversation’s killed what little appetite I had, but the demon lingers over the meal, eating everything, including what’s on my plate. He makes a game of it, eating slowly and seductively. Until I’m squirming in my chair.

When he finally finishes the last of the squid, I sigh with relief, thinking that the torment is finally over. But he waves the waiter over and orders coffee.

“We’ll have ‘em at the bar,” he says to the waiter, who nods and reaches around to hold my chair.

I hate it when men do that. Like I’m incapable of getting out of a chair on my own. Grimacing, I slide out the other side. Turning my back on both of them, I stalk to the bar.

The demon joins me after a moment and drapes an arm around the back of the stool I’ve appropriated.

“So, you don’t like men holdin’ your chair for you,” he observes.

“No, I don’t. And I don’t like them opening doors for me, either.”

“Is this a girl-power thing or d’you have somethin’ against common courtesy?”

I snort. “Courtesy. That’s rich, coming from you.”

“Yeah, well, no one’s spent much time teachin’ me manners. But I’ve learned plenty other things from humans.” He leans into me and whispers warmly in my ear, “You never did tell me what you like in bed.”

“Anything but demons,” I snap.

He chuckles obscenely and flicks the tip of his tongue against my ear. “Bet I can change your mind.”

I’m saved from coming up with a tart response by a woman’s voice. “Excuse me. Can I buy you a drink?”

I look up from the demon’s nuzzling to find Miniskirt standing on my far side. She’s looking at the demon like he’s Matt Damon, Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt all rolled into one. Her vacuous expression makes me want to gag.

I knock Jou with my shoulder. “I think this is for you.”

The demon drags his face out of my ear and favors Miniskirt with a long, appreciative glance. “Sure,” he says, his voice deep and smooth as chocolate. “How ‘bout tequila?”

I slide off my stool. The promise of coffee would have kept me, but I’m not sitting here doing tequila shots with the demon and his groupie.

He stops me with a low growl, “Where’re you goin’?”

“Home,” I say. I’m not watching while you seduce another lost soul.

He reaches out, cups my face with his hand and lifts my head so I’m looking directly into his dark eyes. Told you, this is just fucking around. You’re the main event.

Fuck around to your heart’s content, I fire back.

His eyes flare slightly, and in their depths, a neon-blue glint. You gonna be there when I get back? Hunting you down’ll make this a long night, and I’m not in the mood for those kinda games.

Yes. I don’t welch on my promises. Just don’t . . . I glance back over my shoulder at Miniskirt. Don’t bring anyone home with you this time. I can’t cope with that again.

‘Long as you wait up for me, that’s a deal.

“Fine,” I say. I have just a few