A Very Demon Christmas [Demon Hunters 1]
Read A Very Demon Christmas [Demon Hunters 1] Online
Authors: Evanne Lorraine
Loose Id, LLC
www.loose-id.com
Copyright ©2011
First published in 2011
Loose Id Titles by Evanne Lorraine
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For Antonia and Treva, whose efforts made this story so much better.
Unable to resist, Holly darted another peek at her neighbor and met his eyes. She automatically parted parched lips to say hi, then caught herself and averted her gaze. Feeling awkward and more than a little foolish, she slipped into her apartment, quietly closing the door behind her.
There were only four units on each floor. Not speaking to one of her next-door neighbors, especially this drool-worthy man, felt wrong. But he didn't welcome conversation. He hadn't been exactly rude. Most of her attempts to get acquainted had met with single-word responses. Even a plate of her still-warm homemade chocolate chip cookies had only received a burning glance and a curt, “I'm allergic."
After his last rebuff, she'd taken the broad hints to heart and left him alone. A crying shame, because she had to ignore the only single man under seventy in the entire building. Her neighbor was tall, dark, and as tempting as original sin. Although he was plainly not interested in her, she still couldn't help staring at him every time they met. Even his perpetual scowl didn't spoil his appeal. If the man ever cracked a smile, then he'd be irresistible. Perhaps that was why he never smiled. A snarky inner voice grumbled about what a huge pain it must be for him to have to fend off the hordes of pushy women who wanted his big hands on them.
Who was she kidding? She just wasn't his type. There were men who liked full-figured pear-shaped women, and that was the kind of man she needed. Too bad he wasn't one of them.
To change the discouraging channel in her head, she crossed into the living room and turned on the table lamp. Instantly the room glowed with warmth. Ubiquitous beige pile carpeting muffled her footsteps on her way to the kitchen. She clicked another switch, and a perfectly healthy and uniformly green faux ficus shone with fairy lights. The small silk tree blinked discreetly, fluffing out the corner by the sliding glass doors to her tiny balcony.
A library book waited by her favorite chair next to the bargain love seat she'd upgraded with an ivory crocheted afghan from her grandmother draped over the frayed arm. Her one good piece of furniture, a china hutch, held a collection of Blue Willow serving pieces and the few family photos she had, each one lovingly framed.
For a moment her gaze lingered on the faded snapshot of her mother holding a toddler Holly in her arms. They were both laughing, light hair plastered against two pumpkin-shaped heads and surrounded by the placid water of a large lake. Grandmother had told her the lake was in Cedar Grove, but Holly had no personal memory of the day, although she still remembered the sound of her mother's laugh.
True to her Pisces astrological sign, Holly adored water and had always been an excellent swimmer, perhaps part of her maternal heritage. She sighed, wishing she knew more about her family's roots.
Nothing in her unit said Christmas was only a few days away.
The glossy wrapping of her friend Tamara's present caught Holly's eye. She gently shut the lid on her old wishes and sparse memories. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth while she crossed to the counter where her friend had left the gift. Tam was determined to introduce Holly to the lifestyle she'd found so thrilling.
Listening to Tam talk about the club and scenes was one thing. Actually attending an event at the exclusive venue would be a much bigger leap. Tam's role as a Domme fit her like a pair of sterile gloves. But her friend's insistence that Holly embrace her inner submissive just couldn't be right. Holly was a capable, independent woman. She definitely was not into being beaten or humiliated. Bossed around a little...
The idea of submission seemed much better in theory than actually being ordered to strip by some strange dominant man. At the same time, she had to admit there was something there because her cheeks warmed, and her body hummed to life even during her denial.
Am I really a kinky kind of girl?
Holly used a utility knife to slice through the pretty ribbon and slit the paper, then carefully slid a silver box from the wrappings. The embossed initials meant nothing to her, except as a reminder that the gift, like the exclusive
La Ceinture Noire
, was far beyond her pay range.
Earlier she'd been curious about the present. Now she was reluctant to actually look inside. Perhaps the entire BDSM scene Tam had told her so much about was better kept as a fantasy.
Ignoring the gift for the moment, she retrieved the teakettle. After filling it with water, she set it on the cooktop and busied herself arranging a Christmas cup and saucer from her collection. She deliberated her choice of blend, finally spooning a mixture of mint, rose, and green leaves into the matching teapot. A sputtering whistle signaled that the water was ready, and she poured a steady stream into the china pot and inhaled the nurturing scent of fresh brewing tea. With the ritual complete, she pulled out the envelope and read the enclosed card.
Clothing optional? Oh. My. Dear. God.
Tam forgot to mention the dress code. There was no way Holly was going anywhere in her birthday suit.
Her gaze flew to the box, and she lifted the lid. Under a layer of discreet tissue paper lay a crimson lace concoction. When she pulled it out, the material separated into two garments—a bustier and boy shorts. Wearing the delicate lace lingerie would be better than going naked—but not by much.
Was she actually considering this? No way. She might be submissive—easygoing was more how she thought of herself—but she wasn't kinky, no matter what Tam thought. She'd meant well by insisting Holly accept the invitation. Since Tam was spending the holidays with her family on the East Coast, the invitation would be wasted if Holly didn't use it.
Still she was under no obligation to actually go the slave auction.
She stuffed the undergarments back into the box and poured herself a cup of calming tea. Since it was still too hot to drink, she peeked at the lingerie again. Perhaps... After all, trying on an outfit in the privacy of her own bedroom definitely wasn't the same thing as making a commitment to go.
A knock on the door interrupted her rationalizing. When she peeked through the viewer, her dangerously handsome neighbor stared back at her.
Holly opened the door a crack. “Hello?"
"Your left rear tire is low. Give me your car keys, and I'll take care of it."
She'd never been this close to him and gaped like a ninny. The man was a full foot taller than her five-feet-six-inch medium height, and his shoulders—actually, everything of his—were much broader than hers. Although he was all solid muscle without any visible body fat, while she...wasn't. Flustered by her own reaction, she let go of the door and flapped her hands at him like an anxious goose. “You don't need—"
He cut her off with a stern, “Give me the keys, Holly."
There was something about her name spoken in his deep voice that compelled her to obey. Without stopping to reflect on what she was doing, she raced to where she'd left her purse, rummaged for her keys, and hurried back to where he waited.
He held out an open palm. She detached the car key ring and gave it to him. Her fingers brushed his hand, barely making contact, yet a frisson tingled through her, sparking vibrant life into practically forgotten zones that she'd thought permanently frozen.
Her gaze flew to his. She wanted to know if he'd felt same the electric connection. His dark eyes glinted with sparks of wildfire, and she dropped her lashes immediately—lowering her focus to his sensual lips and then his hard jaw. When that view made her just as dizzy, she closed her eyes. This didn't help either, because she breathed in his aroma, and an image of his compelling gaze had already burned into her memory.
The stubble was gone, and he smelled fantastic. She drew in notes of patchouli, cedar, and vetiver. He wore the same black leather duster he'd had on earlier. A gym bag, large enough to hold a small country's arsenal, hung from his left hand.
"Be right back."
"Thank you...” She paused, hoping he'd fill in his name. Come to think of it, how did he know hers? When she dared a second peek at him, the door to the stairwell was already closing. He was amazingly fast, or more likely, she'd been daydreaming—more stunned by his touch than she realized. She shook her head at her over-the-top reaction to her unexpectedly considerate neighbor.
The holidays brought extra emotion into every encounter. Combine the season with Tamara's provocative invitation, too many long hours at work, plus her own hormone overload, and she was a walking emotional wreck waiting to happen.
The man had simply been nice. This was real life, not one of the erotic romances she was addicted to reading. He wasn't planning to sweep her into a passionate embrace, and she wasn't going to spin his good deed into a tragic unrequited love affair. What she would do was a find a way to repay his kindness.
Her tea had grown cold, and the rest of the pot was overbrewed. She emptied the contents, cleaned the pot, and started again. While her tea steeped, she daydreamed for a few minutes about the love affair she was never going to have. After a bit, she shook off the fantasy and moved to the bedroom to change into flannel pj's, a henley, and her fuzzy dragon slippers before pouring herself a fresh cup. Perhaps she should wait to change. Nightwear seemed a tiny bit too casual for thanking her unexpectedly thoughtful neighbor. She shook her head at her silliness. There was nothing seductive about her leisure outfit. She'd already had a long day, and she was past ready for comfortable and cozy.
When she reentered the kitchen, an inspection of the freezer failed to turn up anything inspiring for dinner. She popped her most festive option—a frozen low-calorie apple, cranberry, chicken entree into the microwave. Turning for a sip of her tea, she spotted the gleam of her car keys on the counter.
For a few seconds she blinked stupidly at the shiny metal. Then realized she must have forgotten to lock her door as she did so often. After all, she lived in a secure building, so what was the point? Her newly helpful neighbor had brought them back and left them next to her purse where she'd be sure to see them. He'd probably knocked, and she hadn't heard him.