Damned and Desperate (4 page)

“I only help those who help themselves,” God said with a smile as he stopped beneath the shade of the archway. “I wrote a book about it once. You should try reading it.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” I mumbled.

I vaguely remember shaking God’s hand and thanking him for his time.

“Peace be with you,” he called to our backs as we walked away. “And have a safe journey.”

Yeah, we were about to descend into the fourth dimension of Hell with no heavenly assistance. Our journey would be anything but safe.

After we left God’s palace, Aedan said we needed to make one more stop before we descended. The great thing about Heaven was, all you had to do was call out your destination, and you were immediately transported to wherever you wanted to go. Imagine my surprise when Aedan called out ma and pa’s place. We reappeared on the porch of an adorable old-fashioned house, as in windows with flower boxes, quaint little yellow shutters, and a swing on the wraparound porch; basically a life-sized Victorian doll house. Aedan hadn’t warned me he was taking me to meet his parents. He frowned as he rapped on the door.

My first reaction was to bitch at him for bringing me to meet the folks without so much as a pep talk. Let’s just say, I haven’t had good luck with boyfriends’ parents in the past. Travis’s neurotic mother called him weekly, threatening to commit suicide, and his perverted dad was always begging Travis to text him pictures of my tits. To say I wasn’t crazy about them was the understatement of the century, and I was fairly certain the feeling was mutual, especially considering his mom had nicknamed me the “ditzy bitch” and his dad liked to refer to me as the “busty bitch.” Travis, the caring boyfriend that he was, never bothered to correct them.

So, yeah, the fact that I was standing on the front porch of Aedan’s parents’ house set my teeth on edge. I just hoped they weren’t psycho, because I didn’t think I could deal with an eternity of crazy-parent syndrome, although I should have been immune to it after growing up with my grandmother’s Italian family. With them, you understood you were wading through a flash flood of nuts the moment you walked through the door. And it didn’t matter the level of insanity because if you felt even the slightest smidgen of embarrassment over their behavior, Grandma would reward you with a guilt trip that lasted at least a week, which was five years in Italian time. After our hasty goodbyes this morning, I was positive my grandma was working on a guilt trip that would last well into the next century.

Aedan knocked a few more times, but nobody answered. He impatiently tapped his boot while staring holes through the door. His normally tanned face had paled, and there were lines framing his drawn mouth I hadn’t seen before. That’s when I realized why we were at Aedan’s parents’ house. He was here to say goodbye.

He looked as if he hadn’t slept in ages. “I wanted to introduce you to them under different circumstances, but I thought I’d stop by and see them one last time. Just in case….”

Thankfully, he left off there, although I knew exactly what he was thinking:
Just in case we get stuck in the fourth dimension of Hell.
I swallowed hard at the look of concern in his eyes, once a bright blue and now dark cobalt. Well, shit. And here I thought we’d march down there, I’d zap a few demons, and then we’d steal our friends and go back to the top.

He pulled my hand to his chest, looking down at me with a warm smile. “Hey, I’m sorry for my behavior back there.”

My head was still fuzzy from that water, but my hormones were finally starting to settle, and boy I felt like shit for the way I’d treated my boyfriend. As my anger at Aedan faded, it was replaced with annoyance at God for turning me into bitchzilla.

I exhaled a shaky breath. “Me, too.” I was so relieved our behavior was caused by the water and we weren’t turning into major assholes.

He cupped my cheek, stroking my lip with his thumb. “I think the effects are wearing off, because right now, all I want to do is kiss you.”

Who was I to argue? I wrapped my hand around his neck as he planted a feather-soft kiss on my lips before pulling back. Was that all he had? I pressed into him, loving the way he groaned when I snaked a leg up his thigh. He bent his head toward mine again, this time his lips melting into mine like warm butter to my blueberry pancakes. Mmmm. Only kissing Aedan was so much better than pancakes, better than nirvana, and dare I say, better than chocolate. In fact, the only thing I found more satisfying than kissing Aedan was kissing Aedan while we were making love.

I ran my hands over his chest, grasping his collar, as I traced kisses across his jawline. “What say we go back to my place?”

Much to my dismay, he peeled my fingers off him. “Ash, the Nephilim king is expecting us. We need to make haste.”

“Come on.” I reached between us, stroking his bulge. Ah-ha! He could talk about making haste all he wanted, but his dick had other ideas. “We’ll make it quick.”

He heaved a sigh before stepping back. “You know that never works.”

Not to be deterred, I followed him. “You’re missing out on some great makeup sex.”

“We have to say our goodbyes and get going.” His tone was cold, unmoving. And just like that, my libido fizzled out. You’d think since we were about to maybe sacrifice our souls in Hell, he’d want one last chance for some romance.

Who would have thought I’d have to beg for it in Heaven? And I’d thought everything was supposed to be peachy keen up here. I’d never want for anything, and my shit would smell like roses, and all that happy crap.

Aedan knocked on the door once more, and I clearly heard the shuffling of feet from inside. “Coming!” a woman called.

Aedan’s hands shook as he looked at me with panic in his eyes. “Ash, could you do me one favor?”

Jeez, why did visiting his parents put him so much on edge? They must have been crazy. Damn. No wonder he wasn’t in the mood for sex. I turned up my chin, forcing a smile. “Of course.”

He held out both hands as every muscle in his body appeared to solidify. “Whatever you do, don’t mention my-”

The door swung open, revealing a beautiful young woman with chestnut hair and sparkling blue eyes, wearing an old-fashioned floor-length grey dress.

Don’t mention his what?

“Aedan, my dear, you’ve come home!” She held out her arms, and he stepped into her embrace. I had no idea why I’d been expecting her to look like Aunt Bee from Andy Griffith reruns. It took me a moment to remember everyone looked young in Heaven.

He pulled out of her hug, holding her at arm’s length. “I’m only here for a visit, Mama.”

I did my best to keep my cool while Aedan talked to his mom. What if I mentioned whatever I wasn’t supposed to mention? All my life, I’ve been notoriously bad at saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. I couldn’t help it. Some people were born with silver spoons in their mouths, but I was born with a foot stuck in mine. And not my sandaled foot after a pedicure, but my foot in clogs after tromping through a field of manure.

I knew I was going to say the wrong thing to Aedan’s parents, so I figured the easiest way not to screw up our visit, was not to speak at all.

Aedan’s mom peered around his shoulder. “Who do you have with you?”

As her gaze slowly traveled the length of my body, it suddenly dawned on me I was underdressed in jeans and sneakers. Had I known we’d be visiting Aedan’s parents, I would have asked my valet to find me a pretty lace dress like Miss Perfect Mar wore. I was almost certain his mom had found something wrong with my appearance.

Her jaw dropped when our eyes locked. “Mar?” She clasped her hands together as she beamed up at Aedan. “I knew you two were meant to be together. I just knew it!”

“Mama,” Aedan groaned as he placed a hand on my back. “This isn’t Mar. This is her niece, Ashley.”

I stood as still as a statue, anxiously waiting her reaction. I sure hoped she wasn’t expecting a “pleased to meet you,” because my tongue was too tied up in knots to utter a single word. I hated meeting parents. Hated, hated, hated.

That smile on her face dissolved faster than my willpower over a fresh batch of double-chocolate, gluten-free brownies. “Oh, you look so much like your dear aunt.”

Yeah, I’ve heard, and quite frankly, I’m sick of hearing it.
That’s what I wanted to say, but what I did instead was bite my tongue, plaster on a smile, and nod.

“Well, I suppose a niece is the next best thing,” she said with a sigh, waving us inside. “Come on in. Sit down a spell and eat some cheesecake.”

I bit my tongue harder as Aedan dragged me inside. I couldn’t wait until we wrapped up this meeting. Anywhere, even the fourth level of Hell, had to be better than listening to Aedan’s mom go on about Mar.

Aedan O’Connor

“Cheesecake?” Ma held a piece of pie topped with cherries beneath Ash’s nose.

I coughed into my fist, shooting Ash a warning look.

She must have taken the hint, because she waved my mom away. “I’m good, thanks.”

Ma’s face pinched with displeasure as she set the dish on the table. She’d brought us to the small parlor I remembered from childhood, from the golden floral wallpaper to the embroidered sofa, matching chairs, and the eyelet drapes Ma had sewn herself. Everything was in place like before, with one exception. Each table in the room, from the small corner tables to the long cherry wood credenza, had at least one silver platter with a different kind of cheesecake. Ma had stockpiled them as if she feared we’d have a cheesecake shortage in Heaven.

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea bringing Ash here. I should have left her at her luxurious apartment while I popped in to see the folks. There was no telling when and if I’d make it back to Heaven. I had to do my duty and see them one last time. Not that Ma would pine for me if I never came back. She would simply eat more cheesecake.

“Where’s Pa?” I asked as I set my glass of lemonade on the coffee table. After drinking an entire bottle of angry water, I was in no mood to be drugged again, and I wasn’t sure if Ma’s special spice was also in the drink.

She searched my eyes as her brows drew together. She was probably trying to remember who Pa was. She straightened as her eyes lit up. “Papa is in the pasture. I’ll go get him.” She jumped from her chair and raced out of the parlor.

Ash scowled as she looked around the room, her gaze stopping on a potbellied pig eating cheesecake off the floor. “Your parents have a farm in Heaven?”

She asked this as if farming was a bad thing. Callum and I had plowed fields, crawled through filth to retrieve chickens from the outhouse, and put down a number of sick and old animals. At the end of every long day, we were rewarded with my mom’s fried chicken, biscuits, and peach pie, and if we were caught wasting daylight, we were punished with our pa’s switch. We weren’t beaten often though, for Callum and I had loved working the farm and the sense of purpose that kept our family together. When we lost our folks, and the bank took the farm, we would have ended up on the street if Mar’s dad hadn’t taken us in. Sometimes I wished I could rewind time and relive those days when our family had been whole. My parents obviously yearned for those days, too. They could have had any home they wanted in Heaven, but they chose to relive the life they left behind. At least somewhat.

I shrugged off Ash’s disdain. “It’s what makes them happy.”

“As long as we don’t have to live on a farm when we come back. I like my apartment.” She said this matter-of-factly, as if we’d already agreed on returning to Heaven.

I ran my hands down my jeans, dreading the argument that was sure to follow. “I’m not coming back. My home is in Purgatory.”

Her jaw dropped. “What?”

Maybe the effects of the angry water hadn’t worn off, because I was annoyed. Now was not the time nor the place to have this discussion, not that there was anything to discuss. “You knew I was a Thirteener.”

Her lips turned down in a pout. “I can’t understand why you don’t want to live in paradise.”

“Paradise? My parents are cheesecake zombies. Is that your idea of paradise?” I waved at the piles of pie laid out across the dining table in the adjoining room. “No, thanks. I’d rather live an existence of purpose.” My folks ate away their depression, pretending Callum didn’t exist, because denial was easier than facing the truth.