Chapter Six
“W
e can’t leave,” Shiloh protested as Damien walked straight for the door. “Not like this.” He wasn’t even ambling. He was charging through the Sloth room. She gripped his arm and almost fell backward in relief when he let her stop him.
“This way.” She scanned the room, trying her best to act casual as she urged him past the pillows and to a curtained area behind the recliners. Luckily her co-workers were intent on their conquests. “Trust me.”
An emotion that she couldn’t quite place crossed his features. Indecision mixed with . . . what? Approval?
He took her hand and let her lead him to one of the hidden doors at the back of the room. She felt a burst of pleasure like a ray of sunshine burning bright. The powerful demon slayer was allowing her to lead him. For all of her doubts and worries about what would happen when he tried to take down Napthulo, his small gesture made her wonder if everything might just turn out right.
And even as she turned the knob, ready to sneak off with a client again, she couldn’t help smiling.
He trusted her.
When had anyone else in her life given her this kind of a gift? She’d been desired, ordered about, bargained for and—in some centuries—feared. Trust was something new.
“Quiet now.” Luckily, she was the first one to push through the door because a vicious hellhound waited on the other side. “Rufus,” she whispered. The snarling beast turned into an eager puppy dog when he saw her.
“Ah, so this is the mutt,” he said, closing the door behind them.
She buried her fingers in Rufus’s thick black fur and nuzzled him as he tried his darndest to lick her face, her arms, anywhere he could reach. He was the original cuddle beast. “Pet him.”
“No thanks. I like having all my fingers.”
She rolled her eyes at the big, brave demon slayer. “Come on, Rufus.” The hellhound fell into eager step behind them as they made their way down the stark back hallway toward the service elevator.
They were out of range of the cameras, for now at least. That’s why Shiloh had chosen to hide Rufus back here.
She felt a wave of excitement unlike any she’d felt for centuries.
“What are you smiling about?” Damien asked, glancing back at the hallway behind them.
“This,” she said, enjoying the bemused look he gave her.
But truly, how could she begin to explain?
Yes, he was teaming with her to eliminate her boss. She couldn’t forget that. But it was fun to have a partner, someone else to count on.
She’d been used for centuries. It was her job. But the way Damien treated her, the way he
saw
her, she was more than an object to him. She felt the difference down to her toes. And it was wonderful.
He moved to punch the button to the service elevator. “No,” she said, and drew his hand back. Again, he let her. She gave his hand a small squeeze. “It’s warded against outsiders,” she explained.
Shiloh punched the button to the penthouse suite.
He checked the hallway behind them. “So far, so good.”
She nudged against him. “That’s because I’m good.”
Shiloh had let it slip in the She-Demons dressing room that she was going to try to lure her client back behind the recliners for some Sloth room sex. The other succubi had laughed at her desperation and her inability to get a regular rotation in Lust.
Damien stood beside her, absently running a hand along her back as they waited. He didn’t even want sex. He didn’t want anything from her right then. Amazing.
She was scared to move, afraid to mess things up. The elevator chimed as the car clunked into place.
They both tensed as the bronze doors opened. It was empty inside.
“There will be cameras,” she said, as he led her into the elevator. It was done in bronze Art Deco, with large lotus flowers and birds. Antique crystal sconces graced one wall and a gleaming chandelier hung overhead. Rufus curled around her legs, pawing the plush red carpeting as Shiloh pushed the code for the penthouse.
Damien laughed out loud. “6-6-6?”
She slid her arms around his shoulders and he stopped laughing. “Napthulo’s lucky number. Now kiss me. We’re on camera.”
He hesitated. She could tell he wanted to.
She burned for a taste of him. He was an incredible looking man. Still, she waited. She wasn’t going to chase him anymore. This had to be his choice.
Anticipation snaked through her as he leaned forward, nuzzling her, his hot breath falling against the back of her ear. He stayed that way for a moment, drinking her in.
She almost broke. She wanted so badly to run her hands up over his muscular back and shoulders, to tempt him with a kiss that he’d never be able to refuse, to let him take her right here against the elevator wall.
She forced herself to hold still.
Wait for it.
Her body thrummed with anticipation as he took her by the chin and lowered his lips to hers. Slowly, almost reverently, he tasted her.
Shiloh moaned. This wasn’t the kiss of a man who was pretending. He desired her, he needed her. He was willing to be vulnerable with her. It nearly did her in.
He caught the nape of her neck, entwining his fingers in her hair. His fingers tugged as he deepened the kiss.
She sank into him, reveling in the taste of him, the feel of him, the pleasure of connecting with him. His other hand caressed her side, just below her breasts, and she groaned out loud.
He gave her one sizzling nip. Then another. “Here’s the plan,” he whispered. “Are you listening?”
“Yes,” she gasped as he trailed kisses down her neck. She was going to end up a puddle on the floor before this planning session was over.
He was hard as well. She could feel it. Her peach silk dress rubbed between them. She hadn’t bothered with underwear.
“We’ll enter using your code,” he said, his breath harsh against her ear. “You stand watch.”
“Stay close to me,” she said on an exhale. “He won’t spot you as easily with my energy as your shield.”
Damien drew back, nipping at her lips. “He can’t spot me.”
Shiloh swallowed, running her fingers along Damien’s jaw. “He will be able to sense you in his inner chamber.”
“My sources say . . .”
She shook her head. “They’re wrong.”
Trust me
.
It was a test, one she sincerely hoped he passed.
He stopped, his cheek warm against hers. “Okay. We go in together.”
His response nearly undid her.
The elevator clinked to a stop and he began to draw away from her. “Once I locate the portal, I’ll reverse the energy and vacuum Napthulo and the rest of his minions to hell.”
“Give me five minutes to get Fawzi and Rufus out.”
“Be careful,” he said.
She nodded. “You too.”
The doors slid open.
A very angry Fawzi hovered on the other side. “Shiloh.” He drew her name out like an angry father, shaking with indignation from his bald head to the wisp of smoke where his legs would have been.
Damien drew a switch star.
“No, wait,” Shiloh protested. “This is my friend, Fawzi.”
Damien blanched. “I’m saving
him
?”
“He’s actually quite friendly,” Shiloh said, inserting herself between Damien and the ifrit. “Sometimes.”
Rufus started barking like a wild dog. Shiloh winced. They didn’t need this kind of attention.
“I can explain,” she said to Fawzi, glancing down the hallway on either side of Napthulo’s massive front door. It was bronze, engraved with the demon’s thirty-six legions of hell and framed with the skulls of his enemies. They gaped in bony, hollow-eyed terror, which was a pretty good idea when you were dealing with Napthulo.
“What have you done?” Fawzi thundered. “You banish me from the Sloth Room. You make me hide in the master’s private hallway and then you show up here with a client?”
“Will you let me explain?” she demanded.
At least the entryway was fairly contained. It cornered off after thirteen paces on each side. The demon was superstitious that way.
“You will be banished. Shamed.” Fawzi stared at her gloved hand and went white from the tips of his ears to his smoky tail. “You will be killed.”
Damien stared at the ifrit. “He can see through objects?”
Shiloh glanced at Damien. “Unfortunately.”
“This could be good,” he mused.
“Hush. I’m counting,” she said, ticking off the skulls to make sure she got the right one. They were all the skulls of betrayers, but Judas was on the left, thirteenth from the top.
“Here we go. Judas Iscariot.”
Damien about choked. “You mean Napthulo was the one who tempted—”
She knew where he was going. “No. He just won his skull in a card game.”
Damien stood motionless, back to his old self. “I can see why a demon was needed to enter.”
The comment hurt more than Shiloh cared to admit. “Yes. No pass code. Just evil-ness.” The door locks clicked open.
She glanced up at Damien. “By now, the cameras will have a lock on us. Stay close and Napthulo will take longer to detect you.” They had five minutes. Tops.
She opened the door to reveal Napthulo’s ornate audience chamber. In here, he’d abandoned the Art Deco look in favor of the opulence of the kingdoms of old.
Rufus nosed his way past them.
The walls were done in gold gilt, engraved with scenes from the many battles Napthulo had fought and won. Rich handwoven carpeting stretched across the room and curved up the stairs to an ornate throne made of gold, alabaster and—
“The bones of his enemies,” Damien said under his breath.
“You catch on fast,” Shiloh said, as the door closed with a boom behind them.
The cloying scent of incense mixed with sulfur hung low in the air. For the first time, she could feel the evil crawling over her skin.
Fawzi hovered beside her, his eyes wide with alarm. “We are not allowed in here.”
“I’m a succubus,” Shiloh said quickly, before she could agree with him.
Fawzi shook his head, his gold earrings slapping against his neck. “Yes, but you are a lesser—”
“Hey,” Shiloh protested.
“You know what I mean. You are not a favorite and I am not a favorite . . .”
Yes, well they didn’t have time to debate. “Can you sense it?” she asked Damien.
He’d drawn a switch star. Lovely. “It’s around here somewhere,” he said, moving like a predator.
She turned to Fawzi. “Where’s Napthulo’s portal?”
The ifrit gave her a bug-eyed look.
“We need to stay away,” she lied.
“Yes.” Fawzi scanned the room, his large copper-cuffed arms crossed over his chest. “Stay away from the mirrors on the ceiling of the bedroom. Do not even look at them.”
Damien nodded.
“The bedroom is through that gold door,” she told him. “The one with the Mongol invasion of Poland.”
Fawzi grew as large as a bulldozer, his head touching the ceiling of the audience chamber. “Stop,” he commanded, his voice echoing.
Damien took cover behind the door and drew a switch star.
Fire shot out of the ifrit’s fingertips. “I will smite you.”
Shiloh wanted to smack her bodyguard. They didn’t have time for this. “Do it and I go in there, Fawzi.” She meant it. They were in too far to back out now.
She thought the ifrit was going to faint as Damien gave her a wicked grin and ducked into the bedroom.
This was madness. Fawzi wasn’t going to cooperate. She was only making him suffer. Maybe if she could explain, but there was no time.
And so now, she’d end his suffering.
“Fawzi,” she said, making her way to the ornate bar at the far end of the audience chamber.
“You are headed in the wrong direction.” He hit his head on a chandelier and shrank back to normal size as he trailed after her. “We must leave.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “We must.” She brushed past the top label alcohol, past the jars of eyeballs, innards and other intimate parts of Napthulo’s enemies, and grabbed a gold ice bucket.
She caught the ifrit’s tail. “I command thee enter.”
Shiloh grimaced at the shock and anger on her friend’s face as he was sucked down into the ice bucket. “I’m sorry,” she said, placing the lid on top. “This is for your own good.”
Fawzi didn’t deserve to get mixed up in this drama. This way, if they were caught and Napthulo took his vengeance, her bodyguard would be blameless. And this way, she could get him out. Fawzi had never been real big on change. The ifrit hadn’t even left the casino since it had been built. He needed a modern makeover too.