The Devil You Need

Sam
Cheever

Book 6 in the Dancin’ With the Devil series.

Astra Q. Phelps was stripped of her
magic and the experience has understandably changed her life. While she’s no
longer a slave to the constant sexual demands of her Settling, she’s now
powerless and emotionally bereft.

The über-sexy Dialle, king of the
Royal Devils, is also in trouble. He’s lost his anchor to the light and dark
forces are threatening to pull him under.

Through it all, deadly forces
battle to keep the two lovers apart, plaguing them with doubts of their future.
Is Dialle really the devil she needs? Is Astra the devilish miss he wants? They’ll
have to decide if their love is worth the risks…or if they’d be better off
letting it slip away.

A
Romantica®
paranormal erotic romance
from Ellora’s Cave

The Devil You Know

The Devil you know
may break your heart, be cold and without soul.

But acquaintance
makes the Devil you know, more friend than deadly foe.

The Devil you know
might stain your soul, its motives ne’er do well.

But comfort lies with
the Devil you know, tho’ it damn your soul to Hell.

The Devil You Want

The Devil you want is
sometimes slow, to recognize your heart.

But the Devil you
want is sure to know, that he can tear your world apart.

The Devil you want
can warm your bed, and promise he will stay.

But the Devil you
want may turn your head, then push your love away.

The Devil You Need

The Devil you need
fulfills your dreams, his love a promise bright.

But the Devil you
need may lose his way when darkness clings too tight.

The Devil you need
must first survive, as blackness fills his soul.

For the Devil you
need can’t cling to life, when death asserts control.

The Devil you need fulfills your dreams, his love a
promise bright.

But the Devil you need may lose his way when darkness
clings too tight.

My name is Astra Q. Phelps. Don’t ask me what the Q stands
for because that little piece of info will go with me to the crematorium. I’ve
had all printed documentation of the name destroyed and, though a lot of my
enemies have tried to suss it out, no one will ever know what it stands for. A
girl has to have some secrets. Especially when the truth would cause her some
serious embarrassment.

I run a business called the Angel Network, which is the only
devil-and-demon-locating-and-destroying business in the universe. In other
words, I kick serious evil butt for a living. I’m a Tweener. What exactly is a
Tweener you ask? A Tweener is a nonhuman. We have neither wings nor horns, but
generally have both angel and devil in our family forests. Which is probably
why we enjoy a higher sensitivity to spectral influence than regular human
people.

Recently, my life has been especially challenging, with my
Settling and all. But it’s about to get much worse.

What? Oh you don’t know about a Tweener’s Settling? Well, in
a nutshell, it’s a process we go through to determine whether we’ll favor the
dark side of our natures or the light. My Settling has been rocky because I
hang out a lot with dark-world types. It
has
been a concern for me. But
it’s not anymore.

I was recently magic-raped by a nasty bitch who had designs
on my boyfriend and his power. I’ve lost all of my magic. All of it. I’m an
empty vessel whose cells throb and pulse with the need to fill with energy.
And, despite all my attempts to repack my battery…so to speak…nothing has
worked.

I currently find myself at loose ends in a world where I
used to be one of the most powerful creatures I knew. I’m now arguably the
weakest. If I didn’t have powerful friends I’d probably already be dead.

I’m not sure why they haven’t given up on me by now. Despite
a truly phenomenal family tree, it now appears that I’m the weeping willow in
the woods.

To add to my stress, my longtime friend and partner Emo has
completed his celestial anger management, brought on by his own Settling, and
I’m waiting to hear if he came out on the light side of his nature or his dark.
One would mean we could remain friends and business partners…the other would
probably mean an end to our lifetime friendship, which would be a massive blow
that, along with everything else, would probably do me in completely.

So that’s where I am. Weak, helpless, and unsure of my
future. If you know me at all you know I don’t do any of those things well. I’m
a small woman with a big attitude and my very survival depends on being able to
back that ‘tude up with something bigger than my mouth.

In other words, I’m in deep shit.

This should be really interesting, right? Yeah. You have no
idea.

So let’s get started…

One Hell of an Offer

When friends reach out and offer aid, beware the
promised boon,

The solution might seem ready-made, but leave you
howling at the moon.

“Don’t be such a baby, Astra.”

“Shut up, Darma!”

“You’re not even trying.”

I couldn’t even respond to that absurdity. Trying was all
I’d done in the weeks since I’d had my magic forcibly and painfully stripped
away. What I hadn’t done was succeed.

In even the smallest way.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, holding it to keep
from spewing the worst kind of hate in the form of a response toward my evil
spawn of a sister. I clenched my fists at my sides and turned my mind to the
mantra I’d been using to avoid wrapping my fingers around her scrawny throat
and squeezing.

She’s trying to help…she’s trying to help…she’s trying to
help…

It didn’t work. I still wanted to thrash her to within an
inch of her death. I might not have magic anymore, but I still had a certain
amount of strength and a lot of rage to give it legs.

I was standing in the middle of my office, dressed in the
special armor that had become necessary since I’d lost the ability to protect
myself from an army of enemies, and my head throbbed with the effort to draw
magic into my core and hold it.

My skin was slick with sweat, my hair stuck to my neck in
lank, wet strands, and my breath heaved in my chest. We’d been working for over
an hour and I’d yet to grab more than an ion of energy and hadn’t been able to
hold it at all.

The air shifted and my eyes shot open. A cold tube of water
appeared in front of me. I sighed, letting go of as much of the frustration and
anger as I could, and took the water. “Thanks.”

Darma dropped into my visitor’s chair. “I think you’re
getting stronger.”

I nearly choked. If Darma was trying to make me feel better
I was screwed. Completely and totally screwed. “It’s no use.”

Her ten-second reserve of kindness spent, Darma’s pretty face
darkened. “Don’t be stupid, Astra. Nobody ever said this would be easy. You’re
being tested. Are you just going to sit back and fail because it’s hard?”

I grabbed the drying spray from my desk and spritzed my
face, neck, and arms with it. “Yeah. I think maybe I am.”

She hit me with the mother of all dirty bombs. “You’ll lose
Dialle.”

Frunk me to the lowest circle of Hell.
“You bitch.”

Her perfect, pink lips tipped upward, knowing she’d pressed
my “engage” button again. “I have to go. Slayer and I are going to take down
that flashing demon at Twenty-First and Park. Keep practicing and you can fill
me in on your progress later.”

That would be flashing as in showing his secret parts to
passersby. Not flashing like a neon sign. I was secretly glad I was too pitiful
to take on that assignment.

She started to shimmer and then caught herself, looking
suddenly uncomfortable.

“Go ahead, Darma, space-shift. I hate it that everybody
walks on dragon egg shells around me.”

My sister glared at me. “It’s called kindness.” And with
those snotty words dancing on the air between us, my older sister glided toward
the door like a royal princess and exited my office the old-fashioned way.

I knew she would leave the magical way as soon as the door
closed. It was like not keeping score at a child’s solar football game. Nobody
who was involved was fooled. Even if a score wasn’t recorded, somebody was
still the winner and some poor schlub was still the loser.

I dropped into my chair and laid my head back, staring at
the ceiling and fighting tears. As if it weren’t bad enough to have lost my own
powers, now nobody around me would use theirs where I could see for fear I’d
curl into the fetal position in a corner and drool on myself.

It was beyond humiliating.

The door opened and I guiltily swiped tears from my cheeks
before turning to find one of my office mates standing there looking unsure
about entering. Ralph Peters was one of the owners of Werever…Whatever, which
specialized in shape-shifter justice. Like his partner Bob, Ralph was a
werewolf. He had longish, curly black hair and the most amazing hazel eyes with
long, thick lashes that most women would kill for. I rented my office space
from them and considered them friends.

“Hey, Ralph.”

Since the loss of my magic, Ralph’s smile had dimmed to more
of a soft grimace filled with pity. It was so painful to see that I’d learned
to hate it when he smiled. “Hey, Astra.” He moved into my office and sat in my
visitor’s chair, his sexy hazel eyes locked onto my face. “I want to make you
an offer.”

Whatever it was it appeared serious. “I’m listening.”

The eyes staring into mine turned gold, lost some of their
humanity. Under times of great emotion the weres tended to drift more toward
their animal natures. Apparently finding that a more soothing state. “I know
you’ve been trying to regain your magic…”

I suddenly couldn’t hold his gaze any longer. I looked away.
“Yeah. It’s been pretty ugly.”

“I understand. Bob and I have…felt…your frustration.”

Yeah, I’d just bet they had. “Sorry.”

He shook his head, scowling slightly. “Not your fault. We
have total empathy for you. I can’t even imagine what I’d go through in your
situation.” His frown deepened. “Anyway. We’ve been talking and we think we
might have a solution for you.”

I tried really hard not to get excited. But given the
frustrating morning I’d had, it was nearly impossible. I felt my eyes go wide.
“Really? What did you come up with?”

He nodded, took a deep breath, and seemed to be trying to
talk himself into moving forward. That was my first clue that I wasn’t going to
like his proposal.

My next clue came in the form of his kick-off.

“Magic is magic, right?”

My gaze held his. “I guess.” My lack of conviction throbbed
on the air between us.

His stare intensified. “I can turn you.”

I blinked, pretty sure he’d stopped in the middle of his
sentence.
I can turn you into a lean, mean, fighting machine.
Or…
I
can turn you on if you want a distraction
. I shook my head, lifting my
hands in question.

He frowned. “Into a werewolf.”

My heart sped up as panic slipped through me. My fingers
clutched the edge of my desk. My vision swirled. I realized I wasn’t panicking
because I was afraid I’d refuse Ralph. I was panicking because I was terrified
I wouldn’t. “I, um…”

“I know this is a surprise. I don’t blame you for being
shocked. It isn’t generally known that we can do this. In fact, usually we
can’t. The magic I would give to you requires a certain type of vessel. A
vessel that has the ability to contain strong magic.”

I frowned. “And you think because I used to hold magic I
would be able to retain it once you passed it to me?”

“Yes.”

I nodded. “Not that I’m thinking about doing this, mind
you.” I lifted an eyebrow and he nodded. “But how exactly would you do it?”

“It’s a fairly extensive process involving purification of
your body and meditation. The physical training would be easy for you. You’re
already trained in the fighting arts. But weres…think…differently. We see
things differently. And you’d need to be acclimated to that before—”

“Cut to the chase. How would the actual change happen?”

His gaze slipped away and I knew his response wasn’t going
to take me to my happy place. “Just spit it out, Ralph.”

He sighed, tugged at a hole in his jeans, and scratched his
chin.

“Ralph.”

“The magic is passed on through the carnal act.”

I blinked. Frowned. Swallowed. “By carnal you mean what
exactly?”

“Sex, Astra. The old horizontal two-step. The hubba hubba
rumba. The delicious dance of decadence—”

“Okay. I got it.” Shaking my head, I stood up. “Thanks for
the offer, Ralph. I can’t go there.”

He stood too and nodded. “I figured that’s what you’d say
but I wanted to make the offer. You could do it with Bob instead if that would
make you happier.”

The absurdity of the thing suddenly washed over me, spurring
a strange sort of mania. I started to laugh, feeling my face heat in an
embarrassed blush. “It’s not you. I’m… I just can’t go there. I’m not sure I
could do my job in that form anyway…” My voice trailed away as hysteria bubbled
in my throat. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “It’s fine, Astra. I understand. I just
want to help.” He stepped close. “You’ll ask, right? If there’s some way I can
help?”

I nodded and he reached out, touching my cheek with an
impossibly warm finger. He held my gaze for a long moment and then turned away,
pain etched deep into his handsome face.

I watched him leave, feeling responsible for that pain and
for the pain of everyone around me. It was exactly what I didn’t need. More
pressure. More guilt. More reason to succumb to bone-deep sadness.

It worried me how comfortable I was becoming with that
sadness.

Not for the first time it occurred to me that I should just
leave. Go away. And let the people I loved go on with their lives. It was
nearly impossible for them to heal with me hanging around. A constant reminder
of what we’d all lost when the evil bitch Crisanne had magic-raped me.

Expelling a breath in frustration, I dropped back into my
chair and considered where I could go if I left. Olympus was a possibility. The
dragons would welcome me there. And I could still function as a warrior if I
had dragon brawn to help me fight.

Then I thought of Slayer and that option slipped away. He
used to live on Olympus. For all I knew he still did. I knew he wouldn’t let me
hide out. He’d pester me.

I couldn’t go to another dimension without the help of
someone with the power to shift. Maybe off planet somewhere. That thought had
possibilities.

The air beside my chair shimmered and a delectable scent
tickled my nose. Despite my dire thoughts, the sight of a long, leanly muscled
form dressed in tight, black leather pants tucked into high black boots, and a
swashbucklingly sexy white shirt made me smile.

As the air stopped shimmering a beautiful pair of clear-blue
eyes, rimmed in midnight lashes scoured me with heat. A perfect pair of lips
tipped up in the corners and the overhead light silvered the smooth length of
thick black hair hanging just past a square, bristled jaw.

Dialle.

“Hello, my love.”

With those simple words, need slammed through me. Breath
stalled in my lungs. My thighs tightened and my nipples peaked. “Hey,
yourself.”

He leaned close, placing a hand on either side of me. Long,
elegant fingers wrapped around the arms of my chair and lowered his lips to
mine. As soon as we touched an inferno flared between us, built from the embers
of an always-smoldering fire that needed only the merest encouragement to rage
unchecked. The soft kiss quickly turned to a frenzied mating of lips. My hands
lifted, twined in the heavy silk of his hair, and he reached beneath my thighs
to lift me out of the chair.

The heat of his body called to mine, creating an answering
lust that coiled hotly in my lower belly. My hands slipped down his throat,
reveling in the bristled warmth beneath my questing fingers, and flattened over
his smooth, golden chest. I pressed my palms into the hard buds of his nipples,
enjoying the soft growl of encouragement my touch incurred.

With a thought, he removed his clothing and mine, leaving
only the thinnest wisp of air between our straining flesh. He settled my butt
on the edge of my desk and stepped between my splayed thighs, nestling the
rigid heat of his thick cock at my entrance.

My sexual core pulsed with anticipation, my belly tightening
under the building need. Dialle’s hands slid from my knees up my thighs, and
branded my hips with his scalding touch. His mouth slanted over mine, our
tongues tangling with desperate need.

I groaned as he bit my lower lip, just hard enough to draw
blood, and sucked the coppery essence away. “I need you, my queen. My body
craves your touch.”

His cock pressed harder against my entrance. Stark lust
drove a whimper from between my lips.

His lips and tongue forged a trail of sensation down my
throat to my aching breasts. He suckled a rigid nipple into welcoming heat, and
I arched into the delightful touch.

My head dropped back and my hands found the cluttered
surface of my desk, anchoring me there. My waist-length auburn curls danced
along my arms and fell over the surface beneath me as Dialle’s hungry lips
skimmed across the swollen mound of one breast and pulled the other nipple
deep.

I moaned as pleasure speared through me, opening my legs
wider in a silent plea.

Dialle didn’t disappoint, He tucked his hips and drove the
thick length of his rigid cock into me, slowly pressing himself deep. I cried
out at the exquisite pleasure, reveling in the way his body stretched mine so
completely. I wrapped my calves around his deliciously firm buttocks as he
began a slow, measured invasion of my pulsing sheath.

My body was on fire. My mind was lost to contemplation of
the sensations he created within me. My world narrowed down to a pinpoint of
space, including only the two of us merging and mastering the dance of pure
lust. His measured thrusts played against my receptive flesh like music,
stretching each jagged rift of pleasure and creating a sexual tune that stalled
the breath in my lungs.

My clit pulsed. My pussy clenched and throbbed. And my
breasts were swollen with my building release.

He slid deep, his rock-hard cock filling me completely so
that every glide outward sent delicious waves through my sensitive flesh, and
every thrust built profound pleasure deep within my core.

The coil of need in my belly tightened until it couldn’t
tighten any longer, then it exploded, sending spirals of delight through my
body.