Demon Hunting In the Deep South (9 page)

Lifting his right hand from the door, he trailed his fingertip down her perfect little nose, across her lush bottom lip to the plump swell of her bosom. He let his fingers linger there, lightly caressing the tops of her breasts, enjoying the rapid catch of her breath and the look of pure astonishment on her face.

“You are a beautiful woman,” he continued, “though you do your best to disguise it. But your efforts are misspent, for you cannot hide your beauty from me.”

He brushed her nipples through the cloth with the back of his hand, enjoying the way her lips parted in a little hiccup of surprise.

“You think I’m beautiful, really?” He saw the wistfulness and doubt in her eyes. “You’re not just saying it?”

“I am not just saying it.”

He tugged her away from the door and kissed her. He’d thought of little else since that afternoon. The taste of her, the softness of her lips, the feel of her in his arms. He wanted more. He was like a famished beggar standing before a bakery window, and she was light and warmth and sustenance.

He was hungry for her, ravenous with need.

But she was timid and shy, he reminded himself. She did not remember him. He must go slowly, else he frighten her.

And so he tamped down his raging desire and kissed her lightly, a slow, sensuous brush of his lips against hers, nothing more. She sighed and leaned into him. The blanket parted and fell to the floor. She did not seem to notice, but Ansgar did. She was naked in his arms, his for the taking. This is what he’d dreamed of through the long, lonely nights, desperate with the wanting of her but determined to stay away.

He’d lost that battle, but he would not lose this one. He was Dalvahni. Disciplined; the master of his baser self. Not a frenzied animal. He would rein in his rising lust and proceed with caution and patience.

He would not lose control.

Evie arched her back and lifted her knee, pressing the warm center of her womanhood against his crotch.

Ansgar forgot everything, restraint, self-control. He was on fire, his cool warrior brain at war with his raging lust.

Lust won.

Chapter Nine

A
nsgar tangled his hands in Evie’s damp hair and gave her a ravaging kiss. Evie took him in, suckling, lapping, teasing him with lips, teeth, and tongue. Each damp caress of his tongue sent little waves of sensation to her breasts and belly, and lower to the place between her legs.

She swayed against him, her head spinning. A distant, shocked voice whispered she was acting like a slut, but she didn’t care. She should be dying of embarrassment, trying to hide her naked body behind the nearest piece of furniture. Instead, she clung to him without shame, reveling in the sensation of her breasts pressed against his hard chest.

Reveling in the sheer masculine strength of him. He made her feel feminine and desirable for the first time in her life.

It felt natural to be in his arms, like she’d been here before. No bashfulness. No hesitation. Twenty-eight years of inhibition and insecurity out the window. He awakened something in her, something wild and daring.

She didn’t want it to end. Now that she’d had a taste of it, she wanted more.

More? She wanted it all. She wanted
him
.

Don’t stop, she thought.
Just a little longer, a few more minutes of wonderful . . .

“Evangeline,” he murmured, pressing a trail of burning kisses down her neck.

She cried out as he slid his hands under her bottom and lifted her against the front door. She wrapped her legs around him and held on. The wood felt cool against the bare skin of her back and buttocks. But everything else was hot and burning for him. Her breasts ached, her skin felt too tight, and her head buzzed with desire.

She was like an animal in heat, sexually charged, jittery, and jumpy. She’d never known the pull of sexual desire, never dreamed it could make her feel this way. Hot and shaky and trembling with need.

And the biggest miracle of all? He wanted her, too. The evidence was hard to ignore. The rough denim of his blue jeans scratched her inner thighs, and the hard bulge of his erection nudged the pulsing place between her legs. She wanted him inside her, the consequences be damned. So what if she hardly knew the guy? So what if it wouldn’t last, couldn’t last, because he was sex on two legs and probably had a dozen girls in every dimension?

When would she have another chance like this? Never; that’s when. He would leave and she would go back to being plain old Evie, the incredible shrinking woman. Stand back and watch her disappear.

But not now; right now he was here, the most scrumptious guy on the planet. And he was coming on to her.

Maybe her luck was finally turning. Maybe—

The doorbell rang. The
front
doorbell, she realized, coming slowly out of her Ansgar-induced-sex-crazed fog. Someone was on the porch.

On the other side of the door, the same door she had her naked butt cheeks smushed against. The door of Almost Sex with Ansgar.

Oh, God.

Evie’s eyes flew open, alarm streaking through her. “Let me go.” She shoved her hands against his shoulders. “Someone’s here.”

He released her at once, and she lowered her feet to the floor. Cheeks burning, she bolted into the hall and pressed her back to the wall, her arms crossed over her breasts. She felt naked and vulnerable. Well big duh. She
was
naked. As for the vulnerable part, Ansgar had swept into her life with the force of a hurricane. Small wonder if her psyche was a bit battered.

She heard voices and took a cautious peek around the corner.

“Welcome, Mistress Viola,” Ansgar said, opening the front door. “It is good to see you again.”

Huh? The only Viola she knew was Viola Williams, who owned and operated the Sweet Shop Café and Grill with her husband, Delmonte. What the heck was she doing here and how did Ansgar know her?

The tramp of feet through the house sent her scrambling for her bedroom. Throwing on a clean dress, she followed the sound of voices into the kitchen, where she found Miss Vi setting out food.

Ansgar looked up when she came into the room. “Mistress Viola has brought us a bite to eat. That was gracious of her, was it not?”

Miss Viola plunked a platter of steaming ribs on the counter and gave Ansgar a playful scowl. “Most folks wouldn’t call it a bite, but then most folks ain’t seen you eat.” She smiled at Evie, a wrinkle of concern marring her caramel forehead. “You all right, sugar? I heard about Meredith. That musta given you a turn, finding her this morning.” She shook her head. “Lord knows she was a pill, but she didn’t deserve that.”

“No, she didn’t.” Evie’s bewildered gaze moved around the kitchen. A gallon jar of sweet tea sat on the stove, and a pie rested on the counter beside the fragrant heap of ribs. She eyed the pie with interest. Sweets were her downfall. Coconut, lemon, or chocolate? she wondered. Impossible to tell for the thick layer of meringue on top, but it didn’t matter. Whatever flavor, it would be yummy. Miss Vi was known for her pies—flakey, homemade crusts filled with rich, artery-clogging goo, topped off with lightly toasted, sugary meringue that melted on your tongue.

There was more food on the little table by the window. Platters of fried chicken and catfish, steaming bowls of collards, rutabagas, green beans with bits of ham hock, mashed potatoes, and a basket heaped with hot corn muffins.

“Miss Vi, what’s this about? There’s enough food here for a dozen people.”

“I been worrying about you all day, ever since I heard the news,” Miss Vi told Evie. “I was at the restaurant getting ready for the evening crowd when Addy and that good-looking feller of hers knocked on the back door and asked me to bring you something to eat.”

“That was mighty nice of them, but this is too much.” Evie shook her head. “My goodness, we’ll never be able to eat all this.”

“Huh,” Miss Vi said. “Soon as I heard it was Brand’s brother keeping an eye on you, I knew I’d better load up the van.” She winked at Ansgar. “Them Dalvahni boys can eat. Ain’t that right?”

“We do enjoy a good meal,” Ansgar said. “And you, Mistress Viola, are well versed in the kitchen arts.”

The warmth in Ansgar’s glacial eyes when he looked at Miss Vi surprised Evie and made her feel the teensiest bit jealous. If the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, Miss Vi had bush-hogged a trail to Ansgar’s ticker and paved that sucker flat.

Ansgar pulled a bunch of twenties out of a leather pouch. “Allow me to recompense you for your trouble.”

Miss Vi flashed Evie a wide smile. “Ain’t he something? I could listen to him all day. And not ’cause of the way he talks, all nice and formal, though I like that, too.” She sighed. “It’s that
voice
. It does things to a person, if you know what I mean.”

Evie knew exactly what she meant. Ansgar Dalvahni was a sexy beast. Tall. Built like a freaking god. Inhumanly gorgeous and dripping testosterone. The kind of guy who made females swoon and ordinary men want to commit seppuku.

As if he didn’t already have enough advantages, the cosmos gave him a honey and whiskey, dreamy smooth, sexy bedroom voice that would make an old maid schoolteacher dry-hump a bedpost.

Miss Viola seemed to collect herself. “Well, I’d best be getting back to the restaurant.” She waved a hand at the table. “Ya’ll enjoy. I would’ve brought more than one pie, but Addy was mos’ particular about that. Said one oughta knock things loose, but two might cause trouble. Whatever that means.”

Ansgar tried to hand Miss Vi the money again. “You must let me pay you.”

She shooed him away. “No, no, that brother of yours has already taken care of it. Dang fool tried to give me a thousand dollars. A thousand dollars! He’s a purty thing, but he ain’t right, you know. No money sense a’tall. Kept handing me bills out that wallet like there ain’t no tomorrow. Good thing I’m a Christian woman, or I could’ve took him to the cleaners.” She pointed a finger at Ansgar’s pouch. “And here you go trying to tempt me some more, you devil. Now, y’all eat ’fore it gets cold. Don’t worry about the dishes. Evie can bring them by later.”

Evie thanked her profusely and showed her to the door. She stood in the living room for a moment after the older woman left, her mind gnawing on Miss Vi’s comment about Brand’s never-ending wallet. There it was again, that eerie feeling of déjà vu. She seemed to be having those a lot lately. She frowned, concentrating on the shard of memory.

Something about a leather pouch like the one Ansgar had. A pouch that glowed and . . .

The image dissolved and swirled away. Shaking her head, she wandered back into the kitchen, feeling dazed and disoriented. Her head throbbed. Too much had happened, too fast. She couldn’t take it all in.

Ansgar stood by the table, waiting for her. There were plates and silverware on the table and glasses of iced tea. Mr. Gorgeous had been busy while she was gone. She didn’t stop to wonder how he found everything. He was a supernatural hunter. Locating flatware and everyday dishes in a strange kitchen would be a piece of cake.

Her stomach fluttered. God, he made her nervous. What could she possibly have to say that would be of interest to a guy like him? She would bore him out of his skull.

Of course, he was more of a
doer
than a talker, wasn’t he? She ought to know. A few minutes ago, she’d been naked and at the point of no return with a guy she hardly knew.

Soooo
unlike her.

How was she going to sit across the table from him and make small talk?

Isn’t this a lovely meal? Aren’t the rutabagas delish? Oh, and by the way, thanks for almost doing me against the front door. That was the bomb. Best almost-lay I’ve had in . . . um . . . uh . . . let’s see . . . EVER.

She had butterflies in her stomach the size of basketballs. Eating alone with him at her parents’ table felt so intimate.

Oh, for Pete’s sake, get over it. The guy practically did a lube job on you. How much more intimate can you get?

She shot him a timid smile that he did not return. And a good thing, too. His smiles turned her brain to goop. His voice turned her brain to goop, too. And his kiss, and . . .

Ratchet down the hormones and get a grip, sistah, or else it’s Hoochie Mamas Anonymous, for you. Hello, I’m Evie Douglass and I’m a slut.

He pulled a chair out for her and took a seat opposite her.

“So, how do you know Miss Vi?” she asked. “I assumed this was your first time in Hannah.”

“You assumed wrong. I have been here before with Brand in search of the djegrali.”

“Really?” Evie frowned. “That’s funny. You’d think we would have run into one another, huh?”

“Yes.”

Yes what? she wanted to ask. Yes, we’ve met before, which would explain her maddening feelings of déjà vu, or yes, you’d think we’d have met. She opened her mouth to ask him exactly what that “yes” meant, but got sidetracked when he reached across the table, took her plate, and began to fill it.

She stared in alarm at the growing heap of food on her plate. “Whoa, slow down. I can’t eat that much.”

He handed her the plate loaded with chicken, catfish, and vegetables. “You need nourishment.”

She unfolded her napkin and placed it in her lap. “If I eat all this, I’ll blow up like a balloon. Besides, I’m not hungry.”

“You will eat or I will feed you myself. You are too thin.” He handed her a small bottle across the table. “Here, I almost forgot. This is for you.”

“Texas Pete!” Removing the stopper from the bottle, she dumped hot sauce on her food. “I love—” She caught herself just in time. Good grief, she’d almost said
I love you.
Talk about sending a guy running for the hills. “I mean, I love it. I eat Texas Pete on almost everything. How did you know?”

“Mistress Viola told me.” He pointed to her plate. “Now, take a bite of something. It matters not what.”

“Bossy,” she muttered, lifting a fork full of food to her mouth without looking at her plate.

The sharp, peppery taste of rutabagas flavored with bacon tickled her tongue. Miss Vi cooked only the best, freshest produce, and she never loaded her vegetables with sugar like some Southern cooks.