Demons Like It Hot (8 page)

“You can talk to them, can’t you?”

Great. Another of her secrets was out. “Just call me the Animal Whisperer.” She smirked. “And before you say anything, plenty of
normal
people can talk to animals.”

Matthias nodded. “You’re right.”

“He’s harmless. He’s here to protect me.”

Mr. Whiskers scratched his kitty whiskers and narrowed his eyes into a thoughtful glare.
Ah
dorn’t buy it.

“I will keep Serah safe.”

Mr. Whiskers nuzzled protectively against Serah, a look of concern spread across his kitty face.
Ah
don’t trust him. How dae ye ken he’s tellin’ the truth?

“He’s a friend of Rafe and Lucy.”

Wha’ever. Ah still don’t trust him.

At least she wasn’t the only one. But she had other reasons for not trusting him—personal reasons. Everything about him raised her adrenaline level. His voice, his gaze… his body. His scent. It was hard to describe. Woodsy notes with a ginger undertone. If only she could bottle some of that and sell it. Totally intoxicating. Now she needed protection for sure, from her overactive libido.

Then again, maybe Matthias was the one who would need protection from her naughty thoughts. Never mind. There wasn’t anything that could loosen his stiff ass up. If there was, well, pigs would be sighted flying over a glacier in hell.

She would have said when hell freezes over, but she knew better. “Well, whether you trust him or not doesn’t matter. He’s here and obviously is in need of new clothes.” Thanks to Mr. Whiskers’s and Inanna’s claws of fury.

“I am here and can hear perfectly, you know.”

As he raked a hand through his shorn hair, one of the tears in his T-shirt ripped further, affording her a quick glance of the outline of one massive pectoral. Like a Greek god. Hell, his body would put Adonis to shame.

Fine. See ye later.
With the flick of his long black tail, Mr. Whiskers sidled next to Inanna and slunk along her fur-puffed body.

Serah cringed. PDAs were bad. PDAs involving cats was on a whole other level of wrong. “Enough, Whiskers.”

Wha’ever
, he meowed over his shoulder.
Yer’re just jealous.
Slinking further down the sidewalk, the two cats twisted their tails together.

Yuck.

“Hardly,” Serah muttered. “Jealous? Of a cat? Yeah, right!”

But she still loved the little guy regardless.

***

“How about this?” Serah held up a crinkled black shirt and tossed it onto the pile of clothes stacked in Matthias’s arms. He rubbed the crisp fabric in his fingers, smoothing it out. “It’s wrinkled.”

“It’s linen. It’s supposed to be that way.”

Not the linen he remembered. He leaned in toward her. “So you’re telling me humans enjoy looking sloppy and unkempt?”

“It’s casual.” She grabbed the price tag and shook it in front of his face. “And expensive, so I’d be quiet if I were you.”

“Whatever,” he grumbled beneath his breath.

She moved to a pair of jeans. “How about these?”

“Too constrictive.”

One of Serah’s eyebrows swept up. “Really?”

“I need room… for my weapons.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot how big your weapons are.”

Was that an innuendo? He couldn’t tell. Her expression remained noncommittal. He contemplated asking her. But if it wasn’t, then she’d think him depraved—more than he already was.

She put the pair of tight jeans back and pulled out a pair of cargo-cut jeans. They looked worn, but loose, and they had plenty of pockets. Perfect for combat. “How about these instead?”

“They look a little frayed in places, but the pockets come in handy.”

“That’s how people wear their clothes now.”

Yes, it was confirmed. Humans had become unkempt. But if he wanted to fit in, that’s what he would wear. “They will work just fine, then.”

Good. She grabbed up a few more in different colors and tossed them onto the mound of clothes. If the piles in his arms grew any taller, he’d start leaning like the Tower of Pisa.

“I suppose you’d like some in khaki too?”

“As I said earlier, I am at your mercy, Serah.” Truth was he really was. He was completely out of his element in this shop. Give him a military surplus store, on the other hand, and he could be busy for hours—especially the military surplus stores he shopped at. Try buying silver-tipped throwing stars at the local store.

“Okay. Khaki, olive green, and tan it is.” She grabbed them and stuffed them in her own pile. She then snuck a pair in black.

How long did she expect him to be here? “Isn’t this a little excessive?”

“Better to have options. We aren’t buying everything. You still need to try them on.” She passed by a display of folded T-shirts. Picking one of every color, she shrugged. “Didn’t they tell you about my shopping problem?”

“Shopping problem.”

“I like to shop.”

“A lot of women enjoy shopping. I think the term is
shopaholic
.”

Serah snorted out a chuckle. “That’s putting it mildly. But you just put a recovering shopaholic in undiscovered territory.”

He’d been warned about her uncanny hobby of buying anything under the sun. He just never thought it would include men’s clothing. “But these clothes aren’t for you. You can’t possibly get enjoyment from that.”

“Trust me. I can.” She plopped another shirt on her mound of clothes. “I’m just amazed they have clothes big enough to fit you.”

“I don’t know whether to take that as an insult or a compliment.”

Her sapphire gaze sparkled. “Take it however you want.” With that she turned and flagged down the salesman. “We need a changing room. I hope there isn’t a limit.” She turned to Matthias and leaned in. “If there is, you can use that enrapture thing on him.”

Matthias reeled. Back in the day he’d have had no qualms about using the demonic skill that allowed him to get humans to bend to his will. But now he was a Paladin. Skills such as temptation and enrapturement could only be used when times were dire. Trying on clothes did not constitute a dire need to alter the human psyche.

“Paladins only use their demonic talents in an emergency.” He hefted the pile up. “Buying a wardrobe, although necessary, isn’t urgent.”

The salesman nodded and ambled toward them, swinging his key chain. “We normally have a limit.” He examined Matthias from head to foot. “I can make an exception for a fellow serviceman. I used to be a Marine.” He stood tall and saluted. “Semper Fi. Hooah!”

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

“You’ll have to forgive him. He’s been in the field too long. Right, Matt?”

“Something like that.”

“So what division are you?”

He did not come to this store to share war stories. And he sure as hell had stories that would curl the man’s teeth as it were. The less these humans knew, the better.

“Special Forces,” he said, his voice firm. “I can’t talk about it.”

The clerk nodded, a secretive spark in his eyes. “Oh! Off the grid. Fair enough.”

Matthias offered a stoic nod and crossed his arms. No words were necessary.

The salesman pointed toward the back of the store. “This way, please.”

“Jeez. Can you be any ruder?” Serah asked under her breath. She brushed past him, leaving the heady scent of orchids mingling with spice behind her, invading his space. That damn fragrance. It was too intoxicating. His body reacted accordingly. Muscles tensed, blood flowed. Things became hard. Too damn hard.

Serah stopped at a rack and thumbed through the garments. “Hmm.” With a curious gaze, she snatched up a pair of red-and-black polka-dot silk boxers.

Matthias blinked.
Hell
and
damnation, no.
Just the thought of her running her fingers through something worn so close to his intimate parts sent jolts of excitement pounding through his body. And he’d never worn such exquisite fabric ever. Even when he was human. He was born a commoner, after all—not a prince.

He yanked the garment from her hands and shoved it back on the rack. “I’ll choose my own undergarments, thank you.”

Rolling her eyes, she turned away and reached for something on another display table. “Fine. I should have known you’d be a tighty-whities kind of guy.” With that, she threw a plastic package of men’s briefs on top of his already overabundant stack of clothes.

Bloody
hell
. He couldn’t even pick out his own underwear? Then again, he didn’t know what the hell he was doing. “Those seem, umm… confining.”

“Oh, so you take this commando role seriously huh?” Serah twirled a curl around her finger. “Doesn’t surprise me one bit.”

“You aren’t surprised often, as you’re so apt to point out.” Curiosity got the best of him, and he promptly inserted foot. “Why doesn’t it surprise you?”

“Rafe’s a commando guy too. Must be a demon thing.”

Had she been intimate with Deleon? The man was attractive enough. He gritted his teeth. Fire burned inside. Not a fire of desire, but something more animalistic. Jealousy? What the hell was coming over him?

“You’ve seen Deleon naked?”

Serah’s eyes widened and her mouth gaped open, then she threw her head back in roars of laughter. “Heck no. Lucy would have my hide. We’re best friends. We do talk. Don’t you have any friends?”

“No.”

“That sucks.”

“I lived a solitary life. It’s the mercenary way. Fewer people to trust.”

Not that he hadn’t had acquaintances over the centuries, but people—including demons—changed over the years. It was better to keep his distance.

“I’m sure that isn’t the Paladin way. You’re not a mercenary anymore.”

“Part of me will always be a mercenary.” With that, he brushed past Serah—not before sneaking a pair of those silk boxers into his pile.

Tighty-whities? Not all the time.

He stormed into the tiny compartment the salesman held open for him. The flimsy door crashed behind him. A grunt of frustration reverberated against the walls as hangers clanked against each other. And Serah thought Lucy was a grumpy shopper. Matthias was ten times worse—if not more.

“Sorry. He hasn’t gone shopping in a while.” Serah contained her chuckle. “Well, that is if you don’t count the surplus store.”

“Certainly looks like he’s in good hands.” The clerk peered down to where Matthias’s combat boots peeked from underneath the door. With a grunt, Matthias kicked the back wall.

“Might I interest you in some shoes while you wait?”

“Sounds great. Something nice enough to wear with slacks, but still masculine enough to kick ass.”

The clerk’s eyes lit up. “I know just the pair. Be right back.” With that, he jogged off toward the shoe section.

“Damn it!” Matthias grumbled and grunted. Kicking his camouflage fatigues around his ankles, he cursed some more. He mumbled something in Latin. The way it spit from his mouth, she probably didn’t want to know what it meant.

“Everything okay?” she asked in a singsong voice. She ambled toward the stall and leaned against the door.

“I hate shopping.”

“I figured as much.”

“Take off your boots. It’ll be easier.”

“And if there is an
issue
?”

“I saw you ward the shop.” He seriously needed to lighten up. He was ten times worse than Rafe when he had first landed on Earth. And Rafe—he was pretty bad himself. “I think I’m safe, Matty-boy.”

He snorted in displeasure. “I feel naked without my boots.”

“A few minutes of
nakedness
won’t hurt.” Her body shivered just thinking about it. What the hell? She never thought the body-builder physique attractive… until Matthias Ambrose poofed into her office.

Now her hormones were roaring. There was no way she could concentrate on anything with him lingering about. Even with his Neanderthal ways, he seeped into her.
Damn
it.
What was she going to do?

With a loud exhale, he dropped his clunky combat boots to the floor. Then down went his camouflage cargoes. Her breath caught. He was getting undressed, and only a thin layer of wood separated them.

She caught a glimpse of his feet as he roamed around the tiny compartment. Large feet. She gulped, remembering what she heard about men with large feet. Not that she should care about that particular myth.

But her mind wandered anyway, wandered up his hard, toned calves, to the rocks of his thighs. Her imagination was out of control. She could feel her hands roving over each cord and tendon, feeling his muscles flex beneath her touch. It was as if she’d touched him before. Like she knew exactly which curve and plane to brush her fingertips across. Every receptor in her body flared.