Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 154735 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154735 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
She deciphered nothing of what he was saying. Part of that was the paralysis in her mind from the impact… but most of it was because of what she saw.
Or what she did not see.
Lassiter’s aura was gone. There was no longer a shimmer around his head.
* * *
It was the smell that woke the demon up.
As Devina’s lashes fluttered, her nose wrinkled and she fought a sneeze. What the hell was that stench? It was like rotten meat… and baby powder?
“What are you cooking?” she muttered into her pillow.
She was lying facedown on their bed, and she was so relaxed, so languorously satisfied, that the energy required to roll over and focus on whatever her lover was doing in the kitchen was more than she could be bothered with. Her body had been so perfectly used, so ridden and owned, so contorted and penetrated, that she just wanted to enjoy the float for a little longer.
It felt like she had waited an eternity for—
The demon whipped her face up off the pillow for long enough to spit out, “Will you please take whatever that is off my stove?”
The fact that she sprinkled a p-word in there was evidence of her tremendous personal growth. As recently as a couple of days ago, she would have gone with the fuck’ing, and not in a good way. Hell, she might have even led with some lead. But true love had changed her for the better.
Maybe they needed to go for a vacation. Fiji? Yes, something tropical. They could even pretend to be humans. Go to a travel agent. Book first class—because if you flew private, not as many people could envy you during the flight. And when they landed, they could go stay in one of those luxurious huts that were staked over the aquamarine water.
Waiters would bring them fresh fruit and gourmet meals. They would get couples massages and swim in the ocean—
“Okay, this is bullshit.”
With a violent twist, she jacked herself up and over—
No one was at her stove. Nothing was burning. And nobody had spilled a thing of baby powder in her bathroom area because, hello, she wasn’t an old biddy who used the stuff.
For no good reason, she swung her eyes to the toasted Birkin. But like it was suddenly going to start smelling—
“Where are you?” she demanded. “Lash. Where the fuck are you.”
Jumping to her feet, she looked around and thought about the dream that had woken her up before. Tendrils of it reattached and clawed into the center of her chest as she spun on the ball of her foot, searching, searching…
Her lover was gone. She didn’t need to cast aside the screen around the tub to know he wasn’t behind the silk panels. How the fuck had he left?
As her anxiety threatened to get totally out of hand, she told herself that the spell was still in force. Lassiter’s true love was ruined, she had her male, all was good. Her taking a quick crash-nap after a marathon sexfest was not going to change any of that. So… this was part of the dance. The push and pull. Maybe he’d gone out to buy her something—
She glared at the door. How the fuck had he gotten out?
Prowling over to the steel panel, she clothed herself, wrapping her body in a second skin of black leather, popping her arches tall with a pair of stilettos, sweeping her hair up in a twist. When she arrived at the exit, she put her hand on the cool metal.
He should not have been able to leave, and not because of any physical lock.
Glancing over her shoulder, she eyed the rows of clothing racks, some of which were six feet tall, all of which were stuffed with hanging clothes. But what was the likelihood he was playing hide-and-seek in her Chanel? No, she’d sense him if he were here.
Back to the door. She’d worry about how he got out of the damn thing later. Right now, she had to find him, and as she stepped through the portal and reentered the physical world of Caldwell, she felt the shimmy of the transition—
“Oh, God.”
The stench was so bad, she put the crook of her elbow up to her mouth and nose. She had always hated baby powder to begin with; the shit was right up there on the no-go list with vanilla-infused perfumes. But add in a whiff of roadkill?
Gagging, she almost stepped back into her lair for a couple of clean breaths—because conjuring a World War II–era gas mask onto her face would ruin her hair and makeup. But then something caught her eye, way down to the left.
A glossy… puddle, on the pale concrete floor.
She’d recognize that color red anywhere. It was one of her wardrobe staples.
With a wave of her hand, she lined the corridor with Jo Malone scented candles, the Velvet Rose & Oud fragrance crowding into the air, thank fuck. As she walked along the hallway in the flickering light, it was like proceeding down an aisle, and for a split second, she pictured her blond lover at the end waiting for her in a tuxedo, one of her shadows standing in for the preacher because, duh.