Hell's Belles. Jackie Kessler

might call attention to myself.

      Suitcase in tow, I hurried out of the shop, managing not to slam into anyone as I searched for a place to sit and eat. Seeing an empty table, I made a beeline for it and threw myself into the seat just as another woman approached. She shot me a filthy look as I placed my bag and purse on the table. I bit back my initial reaction, which was to zap her and giggle as she fell to the floor, writhing as an orgasm savaged her body. Not only was I in disguise, I also had my shieldstone nuzzled between my breasts, which wouldn’t allow me to use my power even if I really wanted to. So instead I smiled sweetly at her as I opened my bag of food. Scowling, she turned away, looking for a place of her own. Suck it up, sweetie. I was here first.

      Feeling very proud of myself for using such restraint, I took out a muffin. The large pastry had some fruit in it—cranberries and orange pieces, I thought; I’d just grabbed the first ones I’d seen without pausing to read their names. I tore off a chunk and popped it in my mouth.

      Chewed.

      Swallowed.

      Oh…unholy Hell, who would have thought a morsel of food could be so succulent? I’d eaten mortal food before, but all as part of the job—it never had any real taste until now. And such taste! Sweet as a man’s soul on my lips, solid as a man’s shaft ramming inside of me. I ripped off another piece and ate it, savoring the way my saliva began to break down the food even as I chewed, masticating until the bite was nothing more than mush. I swallowed it down and broke off another section, shoving it in my mouth and barely touching it with my teeth before I swallowed, already reaching for more.

      Before I knew it, the muffin was gone. As I reached into the bag for another treat, a male voice asked, “Is this seat taken?”

      Hovering next to the empty seat across from me stood a tall man in a white T-shirt and jeans, a steaming paper cup in one hand, a jacket slung over his shoulder. Crowning his head, his light brown hair was cut short, but it was just long enough to curl slightly around his ears. His face was broad, with sculpted cheeks and a strong jaw. Small, expressive sea-green eyes regarded me. Poet’s eyes…and a fighter’s nose, which had clearly been broken at least once in his life.

      One side order of Cabin Boy, as requested. Yuuuuum.

      His thin lips, already curved into a pleasant smile, quirked into an amused grin as my gaze lingered.

      “Not taken,” I said, finally remembering to answer his question. “Help yourself.”

      He draped his jacket over the back of the chair, then sat, taking a sip from his cup. “Thanks.”

      I smiled at him, admiring how his throat worked as he drank. Then I mentally rolled my eyes. What was I, a former succubus or a wannabe vampire?

      To cover my fluster, I removed the plastic cover from my coffee cup and took a careful sip of the hot liquid. Oooooh…yum, again!

      I must have said something aloud, because the man said, “Sounds like your coffee’s better than mine.”

      “I think it’s the sugar. Wow, that’s good!”

      Looking at the advertising on my cup, he said, “With a reaction like that, from now on I’ll get my coffee at Au Bon Pain, too.”

      We shared a laugh. His was warm, and hearing it made my stomach flutter and my heart beat a little faster.

      He extended his hand. “I’m Paul.”

      When his fingers touched mine, I felt something electric dance over my skin, and the temperature suddenly rose about a million degrees. Instead of telling him Caitlin’s name, I gave him the human nickname I’d picked up over the years. “Jesse.”

      His eyes flicked to my suitcase. “Going or coming?”

      My breath caught in my throat as I heard another voice, a deep voice, whisper to me: Going or coming? In my mind, I saw a large man, a blue bandana holding his long, red hair away from his lean face. He opened his mouth and asked…

      “Jesse? You okay?”

      Feeling the blood drain from my face, I withdrew my hand from his and placed it between my knees as I shivered. “Sorry. I’m okay. You just…reminded me of someone.”

      Thoughts flitted across his eyes, but all he said was, “Oh.”

      Shaking off the shreds of memory, I flashed him a smile, but it felt strained around the edges. “I really should go, get my ticket.”

      “Okay.” He raked his hand through his hair, as if he was used to it being longer. A frown marred his brow. “Sorry I spooked you. It was nice meeting you.”

      “You too, Paul.” I grabbed my suitcase and purse and dashed off, not knowing where I was going, just trying to get away from that husky voice inside my head. But even as I finally found the Amtrak board and got in line to purchase a one-way ticket to New York, I still heard that voice inside my mind, repeating the last thing it had said to me:

      You’re mine.

      Collapsing on a red, high-backed seat on the Regional Service Amtrak train, I wrapped my arms around myself. Bless me six ways to Salvation, I was a former demon. I didn’t get afraid. I caused fear. And wet dreams, but that was a side effect.

      But I couldn’t deny that I was terrified, down to my fragile human bones. How long could I avoid the malefic bounty hunters on my trail? If the Coveter hadn’t been lying—always a toss-up when it came to demons—then I was worth a lot to whomever, or whatever, returned me to Hell. With such a high price, how long could I trust the witch’s spell and the shieldstone to protect me?

      And what would they do to me if I returned?

      I inhaled deeply, then let out a shaky breath. I was not going to mind-fuck myself. Caitlin’s nasty potion would work because she said it would, and I had to believe her. All I had to do was not use my powers, and the peridot hanging between my boobs took care of that. I could do this.

      I would do this.

      Feeling a tad better, I struggled to put my suitcase on the luggage rack over the seat. The blessed thing was too heavy. I hefted and grunted and shoved, and let out a few colorful curses. Suddenly the trunk flew out of my hands and into the rack.

      Blinking, I wondered if I had accidentally cast a spell somehow—maybe the suitcase had a charm on it? Then I saw Paul grinning at me as he lowered his hands.

      “Hope you don’t mind,” he said. “Looked like you could use some help.”

      My grin must have eaten my entire face. “Thanks. Fancy meeting you here.”

      “So, if you don’t mind, I’d like to start over. Is this seat taken?”

      With a laugh, I said, “Nope.” I scooted to the window, and he sat next to me. Up close, I noticed how broad his shoulders were, how his arms were nicely muscled…how he had a musky scent that permeated his entire being. My right arm lay parallel to his left, each on an armrest, and I was fascinated by how tan his skin was, how golden his body hair was, compared with my pale flesh and dark hair. His hand could have swallowed mine and come back for seconds.

      “I didn’t see any luggage for you,” I said, suddenly burning with curiosity about this mortal—this man with a poet’s eyes and a fighter’s nose. “You travel light.”

      He smiled, close lipped. “Boston was a one-day thing. Came last night. Glad to be leaving now.”

      “You live in New York?”

      “Yup. You?”

      I bit my lip, which was still sore from when I’d bitten it earlier. “I will be. Maybe.”

      He didn’t say anything, just looked at me with those lovely eyes. A silence grew until I filled it with, “I’m getting a fresh start.”

      “Fresh is good.” Something darkened his eyes for a moment. “Sometimes we have to leave stuff behind, do something new.”