Accidentally Demonic Page 6
“Everything’s fine. Greg’s playing poker with some of the clan. Aren’t you supposed to be getting mud baths and seaweed facials this weekend?” Clayton’s throaty question to Nina made Casey fairly glow. It wasn’t the question that did it, either. It was the scratchy, throaty tone to his reassurance.
“Yeah, and do you remember when I told you and Greg I’d rather do almost anything else than go to some stupid-ass spa?”
The corner of his lips lifted in a smirk. “I do.”
“I fucking lied.”
Clayton chuckled, but as quickly as he let loose that sensual growl of amusement, his lips returned to a thin, grim line. “What are you doing here, Nina—with her?” He tipped his head in Casey’s direction.
“She’s Wanda’s little sister, Casey—and we have a problem.”
Clayton’s eyes strayed to Casey’s, locking with her bewildered stare. Shards of heat rose from the tips of her toes to land on her cheeks. “Yeah. I guess her floating midair is problematic—or cool, depending on if your glass is half full, or half empty, but color yourself relieved of the problem. Now she’s my problem.”
“Excuse me?” Casey finally found her voice.
“I said you’re my problem,” he answered back, all man, all serious, but then he grinned. “I’m here because I did this to you. You’re floating because of me.” He paused, watching Casey’s eyes react, then nodded. “I know, right? It’s crazy, but it’s true. I’m sure right now you don’t like me much, seeing as you’re tied to a chair, but maybe, in a week or so, you’ll thank me, because you have to admit—it is wicked cool.”
“What are you talking about?” Wanda crowed, reaching around Nina to give Clayton a quick hug and a questioning glance.
Clayton winked at Casey’s sister with a casual smile as though a woman floating was all part and parcel of a vampire’s day. “Hey, Wanda, how’s Heath?”
Her eyes brightened at the mention of Heath’s name. “He’s good. So how is my sister your problem?”
“I’m the one who did this to her.” He said it as if he owned it, and again, Casey twitched with a discomfort that might be described as deliciously decadent. And that was ridiculous.
Nina was the first to respond with the slap of her palm to forehead. “Go figure. In how many lifetimes do ya think shit like this goes down not once, but four times? Un-fucking-believable,” she muttered.
Marty turned to Clayton, her blue eyes deep in confusion. “So is she a vampire? Because, hoo boy, is Nina ever going to be pissed that Casey can shoot fireballs and she can’t. That’s some neener-neener, huh, Elvira?”
Nina flipped her the bird.
But hold the phone. “I’m tied to a chair because of you?”
“That you are—with pantyhose. My deepest apologies.”
As much as she wanted to be hacked off about that, who could be hacked off at a guy who looked like this Clayton did? He was stone-cold fine. As fine as fine could be, and while she should be focusing on his declaration, she wasn’t. Things were beginning to get distorted internally again—totally out of whack. Wobbling, she asked, “What exactly did you do to me? I don’t even know you.” That sounded completely lucid and held together despite the inner boil of her intestines.
“True enough. We don’t know each other, but we did bump into each other the other night in a club called Crimson Lips. Know it?”
Marty looked up at Casey. “Wasn’t that where you were arrested, Casey?”
Clayton didn’t let her answer. “She was. It was bedlam. But you look like you’re okay—well, except for, you know . . .” He waved his hand upward along the length of her body.
Casey frowned. “But I don’t remember seeing you. . . .”
Rocking back on his heels, he wrinkled his nose and squinted his dark eyes. “Yeaahhhh.” He let the word draw out, adding some drama. “I’m guessing that’s because you were otherwise occupied with a photographer, a man who was only trying to help you, and a wall. But to your credit, you were awesome in action. Very Jackie Chan.” He whipped his hands around in a karate move.
Closing her eyes, Casey forced herself to try to remember the visual he created, but she came up dry after the photographer. “I don’t remember much from that night.”
“That’s what I figured, and that’s why I’m here. To explain, and hopefully, to help.” He took two strides, holding his hand out to Casey. “Take my hand and I’ll get you down.”
The. Hell.
On the outside, she shrank away from his touch. Ah, but on the inside, her girlie bits were all woo to the hoo. Wait. What were her bits, or for that matter, any bits, doing showing up at this soiree? She’d forgotten she had lady parts; it’d been so long since she’d last had time to even pay attention to a man.
“He won’t hurt you,” Nina reassured.
Casey’s lips tightened and a spike of fury rocketed along the back of her neck. “And you know that how? By your vampire GPS—or did your fangs tell you that?”
“My fangs’ll tell you something, all right, you pain in my ass—”
“Nina.” Clayton’s resonant tone was soothing, and not just to Nina, who instantly calmed when he spoke her name. “She knows?”
“Like we had a choice, Clay,” Marty defended. “She did wonder why we weren’t all that impressed when she started a bonfire to rival any high school rally with Nina’s hair from the fireballs she was shooting from her fingertips.”
“And she’s done shit else but whine about how crazy we are since we told her,” Nina provided.
Clayton put his hand back on Nina’s shoulder. “She’s upset. She has every right to be. Wouldn’t you be upset if you were tied to a chair with pantyhose? While I’m applauding your resourcefulness, I can see her distress. Even I might whine in her position. So cut her some slack. Besides, you know as well as I do, she needs time to digest.”
Casey looked down at them, fixing her eyes on him. “She has these things called ears, and she can hear you, but she agrees with what he said.”
Clay rolled his tongue in his cheek. “I apologize. I realize this is probably pretty scary, but if you’ll give me your hand, I swear I can get you down—no lie. Don’t you think you’d be more comfortable?” He held out his hand once more, cool as a cucumber, like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.
Casey’s brain said no, but her hand didn’t want to play well in a team setting. It drifted into his, creating a riotous frenzy of hot and cold chills along her arm.
His fingers, callused and long, entwined with hers while little bolts of electricity zinged along her skin.
She descended as easily as she’d risen, almost without realizing it, falling into Clayton when she touched the ground. Long, solid, well-muscled arms caught her by the waist, with a light press of her length to his.
The moment their bodies touched, something—wait, honesty check, it wasn’t just something. It was her libido that came out of its quiet, dark closet. In no time flat, she was eagerly, albeit internally incredulous about it, leaning into his sumptuous frame.
And it would be nice if she could chalk that up to the need for a steadying hand after being suspended for so long. But that wasn’t the case. Not at all.
She wanted to be near him.
Hoo boy.
A war of words began in her head while she struggled to force herself to unglue her body from his. Clayton was an attractive man. No, attractive was downplaying the reality. His lickability factor was high—from head to toe, he was the bomb-diggity. Not classically handsome, but hard-edged and almost broodingly so—like he had this fine line he walked and if you set him off, he’d be a scary guy to tangle with. It was in the tic in his jaw, and the clench of his teeth. In his deep-set black eyes, smoldering beneath thick, dark eyebrows. He had a razor-thin scar over his left eyebrow, and rough stubble covering his sharp cheekbones that gave him a dark, forceful presence. The dimple in his chin was like the final stroke of a paintbrush on the canvas of the perfect male specimen.
As quickly as that notion came, it was gone when she found her fingers, the traitorous digits, walking their way up his arm—which, just FYI, felt damned familiar.
Odder still was Clayton’s reaction, but it wasn’t via words; it was his eyes that reacted. At first his glance was undoubtedly filled with surprise, but it turned to what she’d for sure call suspiciously wary. “I think we’d better talk.”
“I think you’re right,” Wanda intervened, poking her hand between the two of them with eyes that held suspicion.
Casey instantly backed away, bumping into the edge of the chair. The hard knot of pressure in her belly eased some when she wasn’t so close to him. “Good idea. Let’s talk. I’ll make coffee or something,” she offered, casting her eyes toward the kitchen and anywhere but at Clayton. She had to do something—anything to quell this anxiety. Action was always the best remedy. Casey began to head out of the room, but was yanked harshly back against the chair. Holding up her arm to Wanda, she pointed at the nylon still around her wrist.
Wanda grimaced, then obliged by untying her. “Don’t go to any trouble, Case. The only person who can drink coffee is Marty, and she never has it this late at night.”
Casey clung to her sister’s arm, pulling her aside and almost forgetting her earlier mission to have Wanda locked up. “Wanda—do you have any idea just how completely nuts this all sounds? Vampires and werewolves, and fangs, and self- healing and . . . it’s outrageous. This is all crazy. How could you have not told me about something like this? If this is all really true, how could you not have called me on the phone and made me listen to you? Am I supposed to believe you’ve been living this way since before you and Heath got married and you didn’t say one word to me?”
Wanda’s hand cupped her chin. “You have no idea how well I understand the ‘this is crazy’ sentiment, and I guess it just made it easier—not being able to get in touch with you much. We hardly talk anymore, and when we do, I spend a lot of time on hold or rushed with clipped answers. I should have made you listen to me. You’re right, but you have to admit, this isn’t exactly an easy pill to swallow.”
Duly noted.
Clayton tapped Wanda on the shoulder. “We really have to sort this out.”
A glance at the watch on her wrist made Wanda nod in consent. “It’s getting late, and if we don’t wrap this up, you’re stewed by daylight, right?”
He grinned, wide and breathtaking. “Right. You know how it goes. Sunlight plus me could equal a vampire version of Dawn of the Dead. Just a heads-up.”
Casey snorted, tamping down a severe case of the slaphappys. “By daylight? Wait. No. Stop. If you tell me that you’ll sizzle if the sun shines on you, I swear I’ll pass out. Right at your feet.”
His eyebrow rose in Wanda’s direction and the corners of his lips tilted upward. “I guess I’m the best candidate to catch her. Me being the only man here.”
A gasp fell from Casey’s lips and her hand went to her belly. “Sit. I need to sit.”
Marty came up behind her and directed her to the couch, where Wanda dragged her coat off the back of it and tucked it under Casey’s chin. “I know. Believe me, I know how you feel, but let’s just figure this out. Clayton’s a good guy, and I’m sure he has a good explanation for what’s happening. I know for a fact if he’s owning this, he’ll do whatever it takes to help.”
That notion might have given Casey some reassurance, if not for the fact that she still wasn’t sure Wanda wasn’t nuttier than squirrel shit.
Clayton stood before the women, hands deep in the pockets of his dark blue jeans. “So here’s what we’re dealing with.”
Casey found herself leaning forward in anticipation right along with her sister and her friends—ears wide-open.
“I think, and I use that word loosely, you’re a demon.” After he spoke, he hunched his shoulders inward; his eyes squinted in obvious preparation for some screeching denial on her behalf.
Nina’s sharp bark of a laugh made Casey cringe. “No fucking way, dude! What a rush. Oh, Jesus. I’ve never had so much shit go down as I have since I met the two of you. Seriously, every time I turn around somebody else is hip deep in horse puckey. Never a dull frickin’ moment.”
Marty nudged Nina in the ribs. “How about you dig somewhere deep in that nonexistent, black place where your heart used to be for some sensitivity, would you? As I recall, you didn’t think it was such a scream to be turned into a vampire, and we all walked around on eggshells while you bitched about it at every turn for close to a month. Just shut your trap and give Casey a break. As a matter of fact, give us all a break from that mouth of yours.”
“A demon?” Casey whispered with surprise. Almost like she’d just been told she was only the first runner-up in the Miss America Pageant. She’d expected to hear she was a vampire or a werewolf. Why couldn’t she be a vampire or a werewolf, too? The way Wanda and her friends talked, it appeared they had that supernatural bent all figured out. If she weren’t one of those things, whom would she turn to for help . . . and therapy? “So what does that mean and how did it happen?”
Clayton’s coal eyes became evasive, but only for the most minute of seconds. “I had a vial. I’d just collected it and was heading out of the bar when I crashed into you. From where I stood, it looked like you were in the process of trying to keep some photographer from snapping a shot of a young girl who was . . . um, behaving badly—exposing herself.”
Yes! She remembered that now. Lola’d had far more than her fair share of booze that night, and for whatever reason, a few chocolatinis always made her want to be naked. The problem was, it was never from behind her bedroom door. Casey had seen the photographer was from a ragmag and, as was her job at all costs, was going to prevent him from getting a pic of Lola that would only end up all over the Internet, minus the modest black dots covering her most delicate of girlie bits.
The photographer had gotten pretty pissy when Casey tried to get Lola the hell out of there.
“Another man tried to help you when the photographer pushed you out of the way, and right into me. That’s when I spilled the vial’s contents on you.” He looked at the front of her shirt. “It made some mess, huh? I hope it’s not dry clean only—that’ll cost you—or me if you’re the litigious type. Anyway, you . . . ah, you, within seconds, lost all reason and went after the guy who was trying to help. That Jackie Chan thing I mentioned,” he reminded her.
“That guy was an off- duty police officer,” Wanda said, running a hand over her hair.
Clay dipped his head up and down. “That I watched be single-handedly thrown across the room. Even I was impressed with the air she got on that toss. But then things went from bad to worse. I know all about what happened. I went to the police station—saw the report, through devious means no doubt, but for a good cause, and found your address. So here I am.”
Casey ran a hand over her greasy, tangled hair while her cheeks flushed. She let her head hang in her hands, but asked, “And how does spilling something on me explain why I have fingers of fire and the ability to hover even a helicopter would envy?”
Clayton’s answer was measured. She could see it in the way his eyes darkened. “I have serious doubts my explanation’s going to turn your frown upside down.”
Oh, he was a comedian, huh? She was tired. Ass-fried, and despite the fact that this Clayton had her fragile emotions in a tizzy, her practicality was coming back into focus, and apparently, so was her temper. Popping up off the couch, Casey circled Clayton. “So how about you get to the point here, because I’m pretty unclear as to your involvement, and quit dickin’ around about it!” Oh, my. She hid the surprise of her insistence by narrowing her eyes like she made demands like this every day.
Wanda reached for her sister’s arm. �
�Casey—”
But Casey turned on her, feeling perfectly justified. Yet at the same time, equally horrified. “Get off my ass, Wanda, or I’ll knock your teeth in!” Shaking Wanda off, she sneered at Clayton. “If you did this to me, explain what this is. What was in that vial that could possibly result in this?”
Yummily reserved, he answered with a concise reply. Yet he looked as though it was a fight to keep his expression serious.
“Your reaction to that off- duty cop was because of what was in the vial. You were able to fling him across the room with one hand because of what I spilled on you. It’s heavy duty.”
Cold chills slipped up her spine. She looked down at her dirty shirt. “What did you spill on me?”
His ultra-hot lips thinned. “I know how this is going to sound— bad, really bad. And it is, but it isn’t as bad as you might think. I mean, look, you can float. I just want to point that out once more—that’s pretty cool.”
Now Casey’s lips thinned. “Say. It.”
He winced almost comically. “Demon blood.”
“Demon blood?” three voices chimed in unison.
Casey cocked her head, an eyebrow shooting upward in skeptical disbelief. “Demon blood.” She dropped the words flat.
Nina popped her lips, breaking the silence. “Well, I guess that explains it, then, huh? Hookay, I say we go and let these two scream this out. I’m beat, and I don’t think I have anything left in me for antique shopping or lame mud baths. I’m going home to Greg. So, peace out and all that shit.” Nina rose on slender legs and looked at Marty and Wanda expectantly. They both looked back at her and scowled.
“Sit back down, Dark Mistress,” Marty ordered, pointing to Nina’s former spot on the couch. “We’re not going anywhere until we know Casey’s all right. Just like we did with you. Or have you forgotten all the self-sacrifice and cheerleading we did on your behalf?”
But Casey didn’t care at this point whether they stayed or left—what she wanted to know was what in all of fuck was Clayton, or anyone, doing with demon blood? “Is it me, or does anyone else think having demon blood on your person at any given time is just a tad out of the ordinary?”