You Slay Me

  His breathing went choppy as I slithered down his chest, kissing a path along his collarbone, then down the middle of his chest. I ached to touch him, kiss him, taste him, my body tight and gathered as if for a leap, but our standing position was too awkward to maintain for long.

  I kissed my way back up to his jaw, nibbling on his earlobe for a moment before growling into his ear, "In my fantasies there's a long, wide chaise where I can com­fortably frolic upon your body. A red velvet couch. With gold tassels."

  "Something like this?" he asked, sweeping me up into his arms and turning to the long, wide red velvet chaise bearing a number of silk pillows with gold tassels that was hidden in the shadows. He laid me gently on the chaise, standing over me for a moment, gazing at me with eyes that had gone a dark forest green.

  "Exactly like that, except you're the one on the bot­tom."

  His hands strayed to the buckle of his belt. "Are you sure, Aisling? Once we begin, I will not be able to stop. It is the way of the dragons to possess their mates fully. You must be certain this is what you want."

  I stretched with the sensual languidness of a well-fed cat It was just a fantasy, nothing but a dream created by the frustrated attraction I felt for Drake. Surely indulging in a little healthy brain sex couldn't be bad? "Yes, I'm certain."

  If there was a land-speed record for getting out of tight jeans, I'm willing to bet that Drake broke it. One moment he was standing over me, scorching my body with his green-fire gaze; the next he was naked, hard and aroused, crawling up the couch to part my legs. "I can smell your desire," he said in a low voice that seemed to rub itself against me. His head dipped to kiss my belly as his hands slid up my thighs, spreading them. "It matches my desire, my need. You are my mate, Aisling, but I will show no mercy to you, for tonight, I will make you truly mine."

  The shiver that swept over me had nothing to do with fear, and everything to do with arousal. Drake pushed the satin nightgown up, kissing in the wake of the frothy lace that hemmed the bottom. His mouth was hot and aggres­sive on my stomach, moving higher as he bared my breasts, the hot brand of his body singeing my flesh wherever we touched. His tongue swept over one aching nipple, followed by the gentle sting of his teeth as he tugged on the tender flesh. I arched beneath him, mind­less to everything but the touch of his mouth and hands, my body weeping silent tears of desire as I dug my fin­gers into the heavy muscles of his behind, trying to pull him closer, tried to merge myself with him.

  "No," he whispered, his mouth hovering over my other breast. I groaned as he lathed that breast, his hands and mouth stroking and teasing me into a frenzy of need. "The first time, I must take you as a dragon's mate. After that, we can make love as humans do."

  I rubbed myself against him, my legs closing around him in a desperate, overwhelming wave of passion. "I don't care how we do it—I just want you inside me, Drake. Deep inside me. Now!”

  He rose up, his knees on either side of my legs. I stared up at him, part of my mind marveling at the beautiful, masculine sight he made, the other part wondering just how he expected to make love with my legs trapped be­tween his. He snaked a hand beneath me, pulling my hips upward, his fingers curled around one thigh, parting my legs just enough to suddenly possess me with his mouth. I was growing familiar with the heat of his dragon fire flaring through me when we kissed, but the heat that roared to life from this most intimate kiss had me literally screaming with pleasure. Flames licked my sensitive flesh as his tongue probed, swirled, and sucked, leaving me breathless and writhing in his grip. Before I could do so much as catch a breath, he pulled two fat gold silk pil­lows beneath me, flipping me over so my belly rested on the pillow, his body covering me completely with his hard heat.

  "You are mine, Aisling," he said just before he spread my legs and thrust into me, his teeth biting into the flesh of my shoulder at the same moment. I was pinned, help­less, unable to move, Drake's body heavy on mine as he moved within me, long, deep strokes that-seemed to touch every part of me. The tension that had started build­ing with his first touch wound tighter and tighter as his movement rubbed my breasts, aching and swollen, against the abrasive texture of the velvet chaise. I made one half-hearted attempt to move, but the resulting growl of refusal came not from his throat, but from deep in his chest, and I knew that the hold he had on my shoulder was his way of keeping me submissive. I've never been one to take pleasure where I couldn't give it, as well, but I was too overwhelmed by Drake's possession to com­plain. He seemed to sense my compliance because he be­came more forceful, licking my shoulder and neck, his body pumping hard and faster into mine, stretching me, filling me, pushing me beyond what I though were nor­mal human limits of tolerance, and into a realm of flame-licked ecstacy.

  Just as I trembled on the edge of an orgasm I knew would be unlike anything else I'd known, Drake tilted me to the side, his mouth on my collarbone as he rammed into me with enough force to knock the remaining pil­lows to the floor. My body exploded in a conflagration of heat and rapture, mindless of the burning flame that seared my flesh beneath Drake's mouth. His shout of tri­umph rang in my ears as we burned bright together, for a moment seemingly made of fire rather than flesh and blood.

  I drifted for a while after mat, not quite sure whether I wanted to come down from the high he had driven me to, -but eventually I remembered how to breathe, and my brain decided to go back to work again. I opened my eyes and found that I was draped across Drake, the dampness of his chest and ragged nature of his breath a testament that he had enjoyed himself as much as I had.

  I pressed a kiss to the center of his chest, then slid off him, scooping the satin of the nightgown up from where it had landed on the floor with the pillows.

  Drake's eyes opened as I pulled it on.

  'That was truly the most amazing thing I've ever ex­perienced," I said, leaning over to nip his bottom lip. "It goes without saying that you have fulfilled every wild fantasy I could ever imagine. Thank you, Drake."

  A slight frown wrinkled his brow as he rose from the chaise, starkly masculine even in his resting state. "It will always be this way between us. You are my mate."

  "I'm not sure what I am other than sated within an inch of my life. No wonder you guys are immortal—if this is how sex is normally, you'd die of extreme pleasure if you weren't. As much as I'd like to stay and see if I can't rustle up another fantasy, I have to let my brain get some sleep so it's nice and sharp tomorrow. If you recall, I do have a murder to figure out. I don't suppose you'd care to offer me any advice about how to find the person responsible for drawing the circle and killing Mme. Deauxville?"

  "I have answered three questions tonight, and that is all you are allowed," Drake said, tugging me against his body. I melted against him, my curves cushioning his hard lines, his hands pulling me up against proof of his renewed vigor. The dragon fire swept through me, threatening to consume me until I returned it to him.

  He pulled his mouth from mine, stepping backwards away from me, and I would have followed him and claimed another one of his mind-searingly wonderful kisses, but he slid back into the shadows, the green of his eyes glittering from the blackness for a moment before it dissolved into the night. "Look to the circle, Aisling. The answer you seek is there."

  I awoke to the echo of his darkly sexy voice in my head, my heart beating madly as if I'd just run up all five flights of stairs, the taste of his burning kiss still on my lips, my body still humming with pleasure, deep, secret parts of me still quivering from the memory of his inva­sion.

  "It was just a dream," I told myself, trying hard to push down the desire to call him back. "A really, really erotic dream, but still just a dream. Nothing more. Not real at all. Just a figment of your oversexed imagination."

  My voice was reassuringly solid in the gray light of the dawn.

  "Just a dream," I said again as I flipped my pillow over to let the cool linen dampen my dream ardor.

  When I woke up two hours later, I was wearing a cream-and-lac
e negligee that I didn't remember buying.

  Here's a little hint for those of you planning on sum­moning a demon: Don't stint on your supplies. If you don't invest in quality products, you run the risk of get­ting one of the lesser demons. Think runts of the litter.

  Being in a frugal state of mind, when I arrived at Amelie's shop the following morning with the sheets of instructions on demon-summoning that Beth had faxed me, I scorned the more expensive items and settled for what I was sure would be equally viable (and much cheaper) substitutes. Amelie didn't question me at all on my purchases until I piled them on the counter.

  "Chalk, purified water, salt, ash, a compass, and a cop­per wax stick. Copper? Are you sure?"

  I nodded. Everyone knew those medieval guys were more than a little bit gold obsessed. As long as the stick looked goldish, the demon wouldn't know I hadn't used actual gold.

  "This ash is not dead man's ash," Amelie said, turning the label to face me.

  "Yeah, I know, but ash is ash."

  She pursed her lips, and her glance flickered toward the bottle of water. "Holy water is more beneficial, I be­lieve."

  "It's also more expensive," I said, reading over the faxed sheet. "Oh, do you have a copy of The Book of Sa­cred Magic by Abramelin the Mage? My copy is back home."

  Silently she plucked a small book off a bookshelf and handed it to me.

  "Thanks. That's everything, then."

  She eyed me for a moment before moving to an an­tique cash register. "I hope you know what you're doing."

  "You and me both," I said under my breath, then gave her a toothy grin when she looked questioningly at me.

  Two hours later I chalked a circle about three feet across on the carpet in my hotel room, being careful to leave a break in the circle so it wasn't closed. I finally un­derstood what it was Drake had been asking me when he wanted to know if the circle at Mme. Deauxville's was closed or not.

  "Too bad I didn't read the instructions on how to sum­mon a demon until now," I mumbled to myself as I used the salt to retrace the circle widdershins. "Maybe I could have figured out whether or not that circle had been used. Ah well. Onward and upward. Let's see ..." I gnawed on my lower lip as I read the slightly blurry fax. I'd begged Beth to copy a chapter out of one of the books I seldom looked at because it consisted solely of recipe-like in­structions on summoning various demons, something that until now was strictly an academic rather than prac­tical interest.

  "Add a pinch of dead man's ash to a tablespoon of holy water, mix thoroughly, bake until done, frost if de­sired." I snickered to myself and then looked back at the sheet, tapping it as I read. 'Trace the twelve symbols of one of the demon lords with a scribe of gold, followed by the four symbols of the demon you wish lo summon-using the ash of a branch that has lain across a grave. Well, I'm going with a copper wax stick and plain old ash rather than a gold scribe and dead man's ash, but I'm sure it'll be good enough. Now, who shall I try for?"

  I pulled out the book I'd purchased at Amelie's and browsed through the listings of demon lords and the demons who made up each of their legions. There were eight demon lords (also known as the princes of Hell), each of whom had their own strengths and weaknesses. Since this was my first time summoning up a demon, I felt that it was better to go with one of the lesser lords. The one who caught my eye was called Amaymon—he was supposedly known for his fiery, poisonous breath.

  "Sounds right up Drake's alley," I said, flipping through the chapters to find one of Amaymon's demons. "Hmm. 'Effrijim: one who quivers in a horrible manner.' That doesn't sound too scary. Beats the pants off of the demon who's known for decaying in liquid putrefaction."

  I drew the demon lord's symbols with the copper stick, hoping while I did so that the symbols would come out of the rug with a little soap and water, then used the ash to draw the demon Efrrijim's symbols. "All right, show­time," I said, preparing to close the circle. According to the instructions, it was very important that the circle be closed properly ... which meant blood. I took the pin from the complimentary hotel sewing kit and pricked the end of my finger, closing the circle with a smear of blood.

  The second the blood touched the carpet, the air within the circle began to shimmer. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end in response, the hum of charged power within the circle so disconcerting, I came close to rubbing out the chalk lines in order to destroy whatever it was that I had started, but I thought of Drake and Inspector Proust and Beth and even my Uncle Damian, and knew I had to finish it.

  Standing before the circle, I used the compass to align myself so I could call up the quarters. I turned first to the east. The book said to draw a protective ward, but I had no idea what that was, so I just sketched a peace symbol in the air. "Guardian of the towers of the east, I summon you to guard this circle."

  Turning south, I drew a peace symbol for that direc­tion as I spoke the appropriate words. "Guardian of the tower of the south, I summon you to guard this circle."

  I repeated the process for the two remaining quarters, finishing with the words that would summon the demon to me. "I conjure thee, Effrijim, by the power of thy lord Amaymon, also called the bringer of fire, creator of all things poisonous, to appear before me now without noise and terror. I summon thee, Effrijim, to answer truly all questions that I shall ask thee. I command thee, Effrijim, to my will by the virtue of my power. By my hand thy shall be bound, by my blood thy shall be bound, by my voice thy shall be bound!"

  There was a blue crackle of static in the air; then a noxious thick black smoke poured out of the circle. I crawled toward the window, coughing and hacking, throwing the windows open wide, leaning my upper body outside to drag deep, gasping breaths of air into my lungs. Wisps of black smoke wafted over my head, slowly dis­sipating into the afternoon breeze that came up from the Seine. I coughed out the last of the demon smoke, then turned back to the room, waving the smoke out of my way so I could see my demon.

  A black dog sat in the circle. A large hairy black dog. One that slobbered.

  "A dog?" I said, plopping in a surprised heap next to the window. "I summoned up a dog?"

  "I'm not just any dog," the animal snarled, its pink tongue flashing as it spoke. My eyes widened as I real­ized that the words came from its black lips. "What, are you, blind? I'm a Newfoundland! That's like royalty among dogs!"

  The dog was talking to me? "Uh ... you're a Newfie? You're a demon who's a Newfie?"

  The demon sniffed in an irritated manner and licked its shoulder. "We prefer the word Newfoundland, thank you."

  I summoned up a polite demon Newfie? I shook my head. Something was very wrong here. "Demon, what is thy name?"

  "Jim," it answered in a surly tone.

  I closed my eyes for a moment. Oh, wasn't that just fine and dandy. I risked my eternal soul to summon up a demon, and I got Jim the Newfie. "Jim? That's it, just Jim?"

  "Well, the whole thing is Effrijim, but I prefer Jim. Effrijim sounds a bit girly."

  I nodded. I mean, what else could I do? Argue with it?

  Jim. I had a demon dog named Jim. I looked at the sheets Beth had faxed me. Maybe she had left out a page and I'd missed a step?

  "This place is pathetic," Jim said, looking around at the hotel room with a sneer on its doggy lips. "You're like, what, a pauper?"

  "This is a three-star hotel, and my financial status is of . no concern to you," I said absently, flipping through the sheets. It looked like I had done everything correctly ... perhaps it was the few shortcuts I'd taken on supplies that left me with what appeared to be the bottom of the barrel, demonically speaking. "You're sure you're a demon? You're one of the demon lord Amaymon's servants?"

  Jim rolled its eyes. "An extremely handsome and im­pressive specimen of the Newfoundland breed material­izes in the middle of your shoddy hotel room, and you ask if I'm a demon? Oh, I can tell my time with you is going to be one long joyride."

  I thinned my lips at it. "Look, I've got enough prob­lems in my lif
e without a crabby demon trying to lay a guilt trip on me. Just answer my questions."

  The demon's face took on a martyred look. "Yes, I'm a demon."

  "And you're one of Amaymon's servants?"

  Surprisingly, it looked away and gave an embarrassed doggy cough. "I was."

  "Was?" I pounced on the word. "Was? As in ... was?"

  "You're a regular Einstein, aren't you? Yes, was, as in Amaymon kicked me out of his legions because of an un­fortunate incident when a leviathan tried to mate with him." I just stared at it. Jim made an annoyed face. "It was just a joke! But try telling that to one of the princes of Hell. They have absolutely no sense of humor."

  "Oh, great." My shoulders slumped. "You're a delin­quent demon. A Hell dropout. A demon without a cause."

  "No one asked you to summon me," Jim said with dig­nity. "I'm just out of favor for a bit. I'll be back, just as soon as Amaymon can sit down again."

  A little headache throbbed to life in the front of my forehead as I looked at Jim. A sticky line of drool drib­bled out of one side of its mouth as it looked back at me. I could send it back to where it came from, but to be hon­est, I didn't think I had to strength to see what else I would summon up. Hard as it was to believe, I could end up with something worse than Jim.

  "Let's get a few things straight here, demon. My name , is Aisling. I'm your master. You will do my bidding with­out resistance, complaint, or undue shedding."

  Jim scratched at its ear with its back leg. "You wouldn't happen to have a flea collar around, would you? I just know I've picked up fleas from this dive you live in."

  I ground my teeth. I'd been doing a lot of that since I arrived in Paris. "It's a nice hotel in a very expensive area of Paris, and there are no fleas. Now, my first command is for you to lead me to where Drake Vireo, the green wyvern, lives. It's somewhere in the city, so it shouldn't be too much of a challenge for you."