Demons Like It Hot (6 page)

It was his fault she was in this mess. Had he not delivered her into the Infernati’s clutches, they would have never found out about her powers. He’d signed her death warrant. He wished he’d signed his own instead.

“Gerardo’s only a guardian angel. No worries, buddy.”

“How—”

“The tension in your jaw. The narrowing of your gaze,” Serah said with a shrug. “It’s pretty much written all over your face.”

Then again, she was a Pure-Blood. From what he’d heard, they were excellent at reading expressions, even those of people they barely knew. Matthias struggled to rein in the churning emotions boiling to the surface, realizing again that they weren’t complete strangers.

Serah crossed her arms, her gaze adamant. “He’s harmless.”

Not good enough of an answer in his book. “Angels, even those of the guardian variety, don’t usually socialize with demons.”

“She needed guidance. He saw no one guiding her, so he stepped in.”

“How nice of him.”

In his previous dealings with angels, he’d learned to avoid them at all costs. But now, since he was training to be a Paladin, that would have to change. After all, he’d need an angel’s blessing. Was it worth it? He snuck another glance at Serah. She twirled a corkscrew curl around a pink-tipped fingernail. Hell yes, it was. And when he was done, he’d erase himself from her memory again. Too bad he couldn’t erase her from his.

“Gerardo was a blessing.” Lucia raised her chin. “And one damn good stylist. Angels aren’t that much different than Paladins.” She flashed Matthias a smile. “Relax. Today’s his last day. He’s being reassigned.”

“That’s mildly comforting,” Matthias muttered.

Lucia shrugged. “We both want to keep the Infernati from taking over.” With that she looped her arm in Rafael’s. “We’ll have to continue this conversation later.”

“If you need anything, you know how to reach us.” Rafael flashed a surreptitious glare. “Take care of her, Ambrose.”

“I will.”

“Good.” He led Lucia to the door. “I could always travel there, you know.”

“Yeah, that’s a great idea,” Lucia muttered.

“Good point. That swirling ice storm could scare the bejeezus out of your clients.”

“No kidding,” Lucia said with a smirk.

“Call me if you need anything.” Lucia allowed Rafael to escort her out the door. The door slammed behind them with an ominous thud.

“Guess I’m stuck with you.”

Matthias’s heart clenched. He ground his teeth. He should be relieved that she wanted nothing to do with him, yet it only filled him with regret. “I cannot let you out of my sight.”

“I hope you don’t plan on joining me in the shower. That would be awkward.”

Matthias struggled to control the beating of his heart. Just the thought of water rushing through her dark cascade of curls and down her lush, naked body sent more desire ripping through him. He needed to get her out of his system. Fast, before he exploded. No, he didn’t plan on joining her in the shower. That would be too dangerous.

“There’s no need to worry, Matt. It’s okay to call you Matt, right?” There was no mistaking the challenge in her glare. Bloody hell and Hades.

“Pardon?”

“Gerardo. Like Lucy said, he’s being reassigned.” A forced smile spread across Serah’s lips. “I’m planning his going-away party. I really can’t have any unwelcome interruptions.”

“I didn’t ask for this either, Ms. SanGermano. I have better things I could be doing with my time.” Like trying to forget he’d almost delivered her to her death.

He wished he had the ability to turn back time. He’d do things differently. Too bad time travel wasn’t one of his demonic talents. He’d gladly go back in time and tell them no—even if it meant losing one of his own.

Wow. She thought those words would have brought relief, but they had the opposite effect. All she was to him was an inconvenience. Then again, she, herself, had just said the same thing about him. What was it about this guy that sent her sensors into hyperdrive? Regardless of the aura of danger that surrounded his not-so-frequent moves, another, more-mysterious aura shimmered deeper in him, leaving her utterly intrigued.

And she didn’t like it at all.

“When will your inadequate idea of protection be returning?”

“Mr. Whiskers may be small, but I wouldn’t call him inadequate.”

“A cat can’t follow you everywhere—like a true bodyguard can.”

“I was fine on my own. I’m sorry my friends dragged you into this mess. They tend to overreact anytime anything weird happens to me.”

God love ’em. Not that she didn’t appreciate a little friendly intervention now and again, but it was starting to seriously dampen her cooking mojo. If she wanted to succeed, she needed her mojo intact, and having a six-foot-four, rock-hard giant lounging around wouldn’t help things either. Even if he was a giant jackass, he was still a distraction.

Matthias scraped a hand through his light brown hair, his onyx gaze narrowing. “Your friends care about you.” He opened his mouth to say more, but instantly shut it. He took cautious steps toward her, his eyes smoldering.

Her breath caught. A huge lump formed in her throat. Sweat beaded on her palms. Her heart thumped a wild beat. Images flashed in her mind. Matthias’s gaze was burning into her, closer and closer. His strong arms wrapped around her. The ridges of his glistening pectorals pressed into her. His fingers wove through her curls, pulling her closer to him. His strong lips brushed against hers. Her mind swam. Dear Lord.

“What the hell are you doing?” she demanded.

“Nothing.”

Sure it was nothing—to him, maybe. She should have known the power of suggestion was his demonic trait. “Yeah, right. If you do that again, I’m going to imagine my knee in your nuts. Got it?”

“What happened?”

“Like you said—it was nothing.”

Matthias’s onyx gaze grew solemn. His face was as immobile as granite. He grabbed her by the shoulders and glared. “What happened?”

Like she was going to tell this man her mind was fantasizing about him—even if he did suggest it. She wouldn’t let him know he got to her. “I’m sure you know. Don’t you demons know everything that goes on in a human’s head?”

“I don’t read minds, Serah.”

“Sucks to be you, then.” As his grip relaxed, she pulled herself free and spun away. “Whatever you’re doing, I’d appreciate you doing it to someone else.”

“I’m not doing anything! I swear…”

A sarcastic chuckle burst from her lips. “Swear to God?”

“You know as well as I do that a demon cannot swear to God.”

“But you’re a Paladin, right?”

Matthias lowered his gaze to the carpet below. “Not yet.”

“Wow. The Fore-Demons sent me a Paladin-in-Training. Priceless.”

Matthias cracked his knuckles. “I have centuries of combat and tactical experience. I once was an armed guard for Napoleon Bonaparte.”

“Oh, and look where he ended up.”

“He deserved it.” His gaze hooded. “Besides, I protected him earlier in his reign.”

“And that makes it all right?”

Matthias shrugged. “I’ve lived a long time. Even demons do things they aren’t proud of. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

Oh, she understood, all right. More than she wanted him to know. Regret—well, it could be her middle name. Her heart clenched. She sucked in a breath. She needed to be strong—for Nonni. She reached into her pocket and clasped her hand around the watch she had so callously discarded earlier. The diamonds warmed against her skin, and peacefulness seeped into her pores. Yet she wasn’t at peace. She would never be.

“Yeah. You’re right. Being a human and all,” she fibbed. Quickly caressing her grandmother’s watch, she pulled her hand from her pocket.

“I have some questions about what happened this afternoon. I need details so I can gauge the situation.” Narrowing his gaze, he motioned her to sit. “Please.”

The last word strained his lips. She stifled a chuckle. He apparently hadn’t muttered the
P
-word all that often. Then again, a man of his size and strength probably didn’t have to beg for much.

“Since you asked so nicely.” She swayed toward the desk that took up most of the corner and sat down. Following her lead, he took the seat across from her. With a soft click, she shut the laptop and leaned in. “Interrogate away. From the looks of your getup, I’m sure you’re good at it. Or is truth serum your demonic talent?”

Matthias snorted. “I see you are a witty woman, Ms. SanGermano. I appreciate that, but this is serious, whether you choose to believe it or not.”

“Fine. Sorry. I’ll cooperate.” She shifted in her chair. If he glared any harder, she’d catch on fire.

“Good.” Sitting in the office chair he dwarfed, he stretched his legs. Even in that brief, uncomfortable shift, she caught a glimpse of the pure muscled strength that rippled through his entire body.

And here she thought
the
questions
would make her uncomfortable. She gulped down a breath of air. Get it done already, so she could get this guy out of her sight—and away from her overactive hormones.

“Did you see anything when the explosion occurred?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary. Just the flames burst a little.”

“Hear anything?”

“No. Just Edie, my sous-chef, screaming.”

He scratched his chin. “Smell anything?”

“No. Just the smell of horribly expensive chocolate erupting.”

“Taste anything?”

“No. But the chocolate would have tasted good, had it not exploded.”

“Feel anything?”

Had he seen her hand in her pocket? Did he know? The way the word rolled off his lips left her uneasy. “Well, Mr. Ambrose, I felt a lot. You would too if you watched ten-dollar-a-pound chocolate erupt before your eyes.” She held back her sigh of relief. She couldn’t show him any hesitation.

“Really?”

“It all happened so fast. I really didn’t pay any attention. My main concern was Edie. If that stuff had ended up on her, she’d have been in the hospital with third-degree burns.”

“Fair enough.” His thoughtful expression lingered. “What about these other incidents?”

“A tiny little imp changing chicken into pork?”

“What about this ghoul and this goblin that Rafael reported?”

Damn
it.
He wouldn’t let up. Then again, that was probably part of his tactical experience. “What’s next, waterboarding?”

“I do not condone the use of torture.” A flash sparked in his eyes. “I have more productive ways of obtaining the truth.”

She bet he did. The temperature in the office rose another fifty degrees—at least that’s what it felt like. She didn’t like the way he made her feel. She sucked in a gulp of air. Who was she kidding? The naughty part of her loved it.
Down, naughty girl. Not now!

She snapped back to reality. “Doesn’t surprise me.”

“How so?”

“You’re not a small guy, for one. And that glare could melt an iceberg. And the stern expression—well it’s stronger than the ones my grandmother showed me when I misbehaved.”

“Niceties do not get you far in my position.” He reached down to grab a huge duffle bag and stood. With an unceremonious thud, he dropped the bag on the desk. With a quick yank of the zipper, he spread the bag open. Grabbing a Glock, he slid in a magazine and stuffed it in the holster on his hip. Snapping the holster in place, he grabbed another magazine and shoved it into a pouch on his waist. Another snap, another weapon—this time a dagger. Unsheathing it from the ruby-and-sapphire-bedecked scabbard, he twisted the weapon in his grip, and the silver-etched blade flashed. She’d never seen anything so beautiful in her life. Vines were carved from hilt to tip and rosebuds had been etched into the shiny silver. Rubies and sapphires spiraled around the hilt.

Not an ordinary weapon for a mercenary. Then again he wasn’t any mercenary. He was a demon. And he wasn’t any ordinary demon. He was a built like a brick shithouse—luckily he didn’t smell like one. And, heavens, his face was strong and angled. Not unattractive—if you were into the Delta Force type. Or was that Demon Force. And from the way her hormones flared, she was becoming that type. Not good. Hormones and hollandaise did not mix—at all.

“Admiring the blade, are you?”

Among other things. It was safe to assume he couldn’t read thoughts—thank goodness—because her thoughts would make even a eunuch blush.

“It’s not the type of weapon I’d expect from someone in camouflage.”

“It was given to me by my mentor.” His dark eyes glinted, and something similar to remorse passed over his face. He strapped the scabbard to his belt and slammed the dagger in. Without another word, he hoisted the duffle over his shoulder. “A few centuries back.”

Well, if that wasn’t a conversation stopper, she didn’t know what was. And he obviously wanted to keep his distance, which was—much to her recently active hormones’ chagrin—fine by her.