Sexy Beast Read online

  As if she hadn’t made a sound, he continued. “‘Hell—call it payment for fixing my car if you want’. That’s what you said.” The voice changed and once more became his with the last four words.

  Angel screamed and scrabbled for the handle of the car door, her body shaking uncontrollably as she was overcome with terror.

  He grabbed her hands and held them captive with preternatural calm. “Look at me, Angel. Look at me.”

  She couldn’t resist. Something in her needed to look at him now that she knew what he was. A deep-seated need made her turn her eyes to his, to face the monster…

  “Do you see me clearly?” His voice was barely above a whisper. “Do you understand that I would never hurt you?”

  Angel stilled. He was no monster. He was still Otto. Beautiful, dangerously sexy Otto. Only…

  “Look into me. See me,” he quietly commanded. “Know that with every fiber of my being, I was glad you were not greedy and asked for no more than a working car, a working phone and that you offered not your soul or your life, but your body. See me as I am and know I am no monster.”

  Angel looked despite her fear. He was the same as ever, but a shadow stirred beneath his skin. A glint winked in the depths of his impossibly clear eyes. He seemed larger than his human body should be, but the looming size was more a feeling than an image. He had no horns, no tail, no red skin or pointed teeth. There was the razor-sharp blade of his sexuality, but she’d been cut by that at first sight of him. The scent of him was the perfect blend of spice, a perfume so perfectly designed for her it was startling.

  He was Otto. And, while not a monster, Otto was also not human.

  “Let go of me,” she said with a stillness she didn’t feel. She needed space, time to process the impossible turn her life had taken.

  He snarled, his hold bruising her as it tightened. “This is ridiculous. You can accept that your best friend is marrying a zombie, but loving a devil—this you can’t stomach?”

  At the word “zombie” her blood froze, leaving her ashen features cold. No one outside their close circle knew Conrad’s secret, no one but Yancy, Robin and herself. No one could know. But Otto did. A new fear bloomed, not for herself, but for her friend. Should Otto threaten her loved ones she didn’t know what she would do.

  And where terror for herself might have waned, the bonds of her friendship were stronger than steel and would never break no matter the threat. Fear for Yancy and Conrad turned her weak muscles to stone and the fury of a thousand seraphim infused her with strength. “I said let go of me!” She jerked free from him and threw open the car door.

  He was at her side before she managed a blink. “There are no secrets now. You have the truth of what I am. What will you do with it? Will you run and tell those who will listen, will you lead a modern crusade against me by telling the police I’m a criminal?” His shadowy voice deepened to a murmur. “If you do that, you put Conrad at risk too. If not for my services he wouldn’t have an identity in this modern world, remember that.”

  It was done before she’d realized she’d slapped him with all her fury, and she could only gape as his head whipped around.

  She had never struck another person in her life. It was nothing like in movies or books. In real life it was horrible. The guilt was immediate and absolute, even in the storm of her wrath.

  Her hand immediately numbed from the pain, but her heart could still hurt and it bled freely behind its cage. Angel would rather die than let him see her pain and remorse. So with effort she redoubled her fury and spat at him with all the venom she could summon, “Stay away from me, Otto. I won’t spill your damned secret.” She emphasized the epithet. “Just stay away from me and my friends and I’ll never tell another living soul what you’ve told me.”

  His eyes were wild. “You want me!” he thundered emphatically. “I know you want me.”

  “No I don’t!” she screamed back, charging forward to her car.

  “You need me.” He softened. “Angel, baby, you know we’re good together. I know this is all happening too fast, but you don’t have to be scared of it.”

  “I’m not afraid,” she lied furiously.

  He swore and grabbed for her, but she dodged him and got into the car. “You can’t run from me,” he snarled. “There is no place you can hide that I can’t find you.”

  “I’m not running. I’m not hiding.” She gritted her teeth, catching a sliver of her tongue between them so that she tasted the faint flavor of blood. “This is me denying you. This is me turning my back on you and whatever else you want from me. I’m not the Faust to your Mephistopheles—there is absolutely nothing you have for which I’m willing to trade one more piece of myself.”

  As Otto’s maroon eyes looked on, she grabbed the wheel of what she knew now was a supernatural vehicle and cranked its undying engine, revving it until it roared with the savage fury she felt in every cell, every atom. Otto stood still and unmoving, only watching while Angel sped away with a desperation that burned her heart to ashes.

  She did not look back.

  She did not dare.

  * * * * *

  Every strange, confusing moment she’d shared with Otto replayed itself in her mind. Every day that passed, every sleepless night that plagued her was filled with memories she couldn’t escape.

  Not that she really wanted to escape them, or deny their existence. Something inside her relished the keen pain that accompanied each reminder, each revelation that lent truth to Otto’s confession. The memories were a punishment she felt more than deserving of, a self-mutilation on a spiritual level.

  That first night, at the bar where she and her friends had gone to meet with Otto, there had been a brawl. A bar fight to end all bar fights. It had been sudden and it had been dramatic to the point of silliness. But Angel saw, so clearly now in hindsight, the grin of pure delight that had ridden Otto’s face the entire time. She remembered the kiss they had shared after, how it had been so full of joy and celebration. Then she had thought it was just simple fun, but now she felt betrayed—Otto had kissed her in the wake of his devilish work, and in doing so had made her a part of the affair.

  Their night by the crossroads he’d come to her not out of desire or need, but out of devilish intent on gaining something from her in exchange for the fulfillment of a wish. And it was such a stupid thing to spark their relationship, a materialistic desire she’d given voice to in a thoughtless moment. Who was she to know the significance of her place and timing while making such a foolish wish?

  But ignorance of the law did not excuse her from the rule of it. And she had paid the price for her stupidity. The cost was too steep, too dear, as she’d paid not just with her body, her sex, but with her pride.

  It was her pride that stung so hotly now. That she’d made such a fool of herself, given herself so freely to that devil, wounded bitterly. Just because Otto had said he’d fought against coming to her didn’t mean he’d told the truth, and even if it was the truth, so what? The end result was the same. He’d taken her body, made love to her and mind-fucked her as no other man possibly could, all because it was part and parcel of his nature.

  Every time her thoughts came to that end, she faltered. Embarrassment singed her to the marrow. How insane she’d been, to experience the disorientation of that first encounter and not question it too deeply afterward. How stupid to experience it again in Otto’s sports car and take it all in stride until the end, when the deed was done. She was a fool twice over, and if he hadn’t told her the truth, no doubt she’d have swallowed any lie just to have an excuse to be with him again.

  Otto was dangerous; she’d known that from the start. But he was too dangerous for her world. He was deadly and Angel could not risk her future or the future of her friends by letting him know how confused she was. He was capable of things no ordinary human could imagine and Angel knew she’d only seen a sample of what he could do.

  How relentless could he be if pushed too far?

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sp; It terrified her to think of him in such a dark light. And it mortified her that his darkness had cast its shadow over her, infecting her, perhaps forever.

  That there were things in the world beyond the veneer of human understanding was a truth Angel had never had trouble accepting. She’d been born superstitious. Her imagination was rich with possibilities, her grasp of the real and the fantastic a tenuous balance she’d employed with great relish. It had amused her to believe in the unbelievable.

  Her friends were good company in that regard. Yancy, Robin and Angel had always enjoyed telling scary stories, sharing macabre adventures and delving into the world of make-believe. Because of this, it had not been hard to accept that Yancy’s future husband was a zombie, or that Yancy herself was the reincarnation of his long-lost love. It had seemed inevitable that some, if not many of their outlandish fantasies had some credence in the everyday world.

  So it was without doubt now that Angel accepted Otto’s confession. He, too, was a creature straight out of a campfire story.

  But this reality carried with it a consequence Angel was not prepared to face. Otto was no former human like Conrad Walsh. From all the research she’d done on the internet, in the library and with the many books she’d purchased over the weeks following their volatile encounter, Angel knew Otto had never been human.

  The crossroads story was a well-known and thoroughly documented rite. The strange things Otto had said, how he’d needed her to offer something before he could be at ease with her that night, fit with the rules that bound him as a dealer of tricks and treats. There were forces that drove him. His need to cause mischief and his ability to inspire chaos and disorientation were clear to see in hindsight. It was this unnamed force that terrified her.

  Was it evil? Was Otto bad? And if the answer to those questions was yes, did that make her evil too? She had made a deal, albeit a clumsy one, with the devil after all.

  There were no solid answers, none that Angel could find. But she could be certain of one thing and one thing only—she must not let Otto take more than she’d already given.

  Whether there was a heaven or a hell mixed in all of this wasn’t something she was eager to take into account. Heaven and hell could fight their own war. Belief in either or both wasn’t something she’d ever contemplated with much enthusiasm. It was this life, this existence that mattered. So the fight was between Angel and Otto, a fight she fully intended to win, no matter the cost to herself.

  She couldn’t love him. She wouldn’t.

  He was a magical creature.

  She was no saint, but she was a human. With all the strengths and weaknesses of humanity, Angel was just a woman. Ordinary. Normal.

  Any future contact with him was impossible. He was a creature compelled by forces beyond her world. She’d never be able to harbor his secret from her friends and if they found out what Otto was, Angel knew they’d be in danger too. Not just from Otto—though that danger was enough—but from any other monster who might catch wind of the union between one of their own and a mortal woman.

  It was too big a risk. And it wasn’t just lives at stake, but perhaps souls.

  The devil asked for too much.

  As Yancy’s wedding approached, Angel held fast to her resolution. At first it was easy enough as she was fueled by anger and then by fear. But when the days passed and the rawness of their encounters healed a little bit, Angel discovered that the mark Otto had made on her soul could not be pushed aside so easily.

  Chapter Six

  The first gifts he sent were flowers. So many flowers. One hundred and one roses came with a note that the florist delivered to her door personally. Angel didn’t have the heart to tell the woman, whose enthusiasm was hard to resist, to take the gifts back to the sender and tell him to stuff ’em where the sun wouldn’t shine.

  The note was on his own personal stationary, the florist pointed out as she and an assistant carried vase after vase of roses—not just red ones either, but white and yellow and pink too—into Angel’s house. The card, for it was a card on heavy rice-paper stock, was in an envelope that smelled distinctly like Otto’s skin. And the small, elegant scrawl of his handwriting on the textured paper was a black slash of ink on the page.

  You can’t live without me, Angel.

  After the florist left, Angel threw the note in the trash and carried the flowers to the outside garbage cans. But damn if her house didn’t smell of roses in every corner, in every room for the next two days.

  But the roses were just the beginning. Then came the irises, the orchids, wildflowers and carnations. Always numbering one hundred and one—as if to say there were a hundred and one reasons why she shouldn’t be so stubborn—and always accompanied by a personalized note that smelled of Otto’s skin.

  You know you want me just as much as I want you.

  Because of Otto, no doubt, the florist could buy new braces for her kids’ teeth by now. The woman was ecstatic every morning she arrived at Angel’s door with that day’s delivery.

  Then the flowers stopped coming. But the notes kept arriving, only now they lay on her doorstep every morning—proof that Otto had been near, invading her world with their insistence.

  I am never far. Say my name and I will be by your side, it is just that easy.

  Is it so hard to admit how much you miss me?

  I can wait forever. Do you intend to?

  That last note struck a chord in her, more deeply than the others. With it came more questions. Was Otto immortal? If so, was he as old as he looked or older? It was a terrifying train of thought, but Angel was growing somewhat immune to surprise.

  After that, the letters stopped. It was as if he knew she’d been unnerved and decided to take pity on her.

  Instead, he began to visit her. If not quite literally in person, then in her dreams. Both day and night. Only these visitations were more than dreams, more than visions. They were temptation made flesh, fantasy merged with what little reality Angel still grasped.

  A couple of weeks had passed since they’d last been together, and Angel had just closed her eyes when the dream—or whatever it was—began.

  You are the most stubborn woman in creation, do you know that?

  The warmth of his bare skin, all six-feet-plus inches of it, pressed to her back as they lay beneath the covers. She heard his words in her head—because his lips were too busy nibbling her shoulder, made bare by the same inane magic that kept her from telling him to sod off. Her flannel pajamas were simply not there anymore, and their naked bodies generated such heat that she moaned contentedly before she could even think to keep the satisfied sound behind her lips.

  You’re lying to yourself more than anyone. His hot, rough palm slid down her leg, squeezing her thigh before pushing it forward gently. He rubbed her bottom before insinuating his fingers between her legs to find her slick with desire.

  His husky murmur was full of triumph. Feel how wet and ready you are. It’s a gift I treasure.

  His nipple rings were hard textures against her shoulder blades. Angel, mute, leaned back into him despite her strong suspicions that she was no longer dreaming. Suspicions? More like a certainty when Otto’s long, firm finger slid deep into her cunt.

  Every line of his fingerprint was a stamp on her most tender flesh. The texture scraped with his thrusts, the friction a gentle assault.

  And then his hips were nudging her from behind. He lifted her leg and pressed his cock into her wet, flushed sex. He was so hot, so smooth, but hard and insistent against her softness.

  At first, the round tip of him—damp from both their fluids—seemed too broad to enter her small body. And though she wanted him badly, her body quaking from her need, it took several more minutes for him to ready her fully. His fingers plucked a symphony on her clit and nipples. His mouth bathed her with kisses and branding nibbles from her ear to her throat, her shoulder to her fingertips—a sweet kiss for each of them on her right hand, which he brought to his mouth with lazy slowness
.

  It was a tight fit. But then it always was with Otto. He was a very, very large man.

  But he was every inch the man for her.

  In the dream, at least. She kept swearing to herself that it was just a dream and there was no harm in letting him—oh!

  He thrust into her so hard she saw lightning flash behind her lids.

  After that there were no more thoughts, only feelings. Too many. All too powerful to name. Just senseless words that kept revolving in the tempest of her thoughts.

  Otto. Devil. Otto. Devil. Otto.

  Damn it.

  * * * * *

  The morning sun was too high when she awoke. Groaning with the realization that she was late for work, Angel was only half surprised to find the stains of his semen on her sheets and its creamy balm smeared generously between her legs.

  All that day she ached physically. Her breasts and thighs and pussy felt lightly bruised from vigorous lovemaking.

  It was the only sex dream she could clearly remember, though there had to have been others with the way she felt swollen and aching nearly every morning.

  In the days that followed, Otto seemed determined to force her to a confrontation. But Angel dug in her heels and did her best to pretend everything was normal.

  Normal was a word she should have erased from her brain forever.

  One day while driving the Diablo, she realized it had been weeks since she’d filled the tank with fuel. Not only did the car run perfectly, it no longer needed gas either.

  Angel began shopping for a new car after that.

  More than once when she was working in the shop, she would turn to see Otto standing there watching her, so real and solid yet plainly invisible to everyone else. He’d be there long enough for her to see him, to catch her breath in shock, then grimly disappear before she could even think to turn away.