A man stood there in front of Jame’s fireplace, dressed in a leather jacket, t-shirt and jeans. No, not a man. The demon, Bathin.
“Tell your friend I am not a threat to you, Delaney.” His voice was just how I remembered it. Low, whiskey smoke, heat and amusement.
“Nah, I don’t lie to my friends.” I patted Jame’s arm. “This is Bathin. He’s a demon. He had Dad’s soul trapped in that stone on your mantle. He and I made a deal, and now he has my soul. So I think he’s going to be sticking around for awhile. Do you have any coffee? I could really use a cup.”
Jame twitched in that way only werewolves who were paying complete attention to every living thing around them could.
“He’s a demon.”
“Right. How about you sit down, have a chat, and I’ll get the coffee.”
Jame moved to the side so he could glance at me over his shoulder. “He took your soul?”
I nodded. It was weird that it didn’t bother me, wasn’t it? Or was it? Was that weird?
“It’s a long story, but there’s some really good news.” I wriggled enough, he finally got the message and leaned away so I could move off of the wall.
“News?” Jame pulled his cell out of his pocket and hit dial without even looking at it. I wondered who he had on speed dial.
“Yes. Let me just get coffee and we can talk about it. Coffee?” I asked Bathin as I started toward the kitchen.
He was leaning one elbow on the mantle watching me with a tolerant curiosity. “Yes. Two sugars.”
“Got it. And do you want—” My words were cut off, because Jame was suddenly, silently right behind me, still putting his body between me and Bathin, but also talking on his phone.
“She’s right here, conscious, but acting strange. She sold her soul to a demon.” Pause. “Yes.” He glanced at Bathin. “It’s here.” Another pause.
I stage-whispered, “Do you want coffee too? Or maybe tea? I’m not sure what you’ve got in the kitchen.” I marched in to investigate, my were-shadow following on my heels. “And the cupboards say…coffee! Powdered lemonade.”
“Strange-strange, not shock strange,” he said.
“Refrigerator has… no surprise: beer and tomato juice. So?” I waved my hands at the fridge then cupboard.
He leveled a very serious gaze at me. “I will. Yes.” Then he pocketed his phone, closed the refrigerator even though my hand was still on the handle, and physically guided me over to the coffee-making area.
“Make the coffee.” He had his back to me again, close enough I had to brush against his shirt as I reached for filters and grounds.
He was in full protection mode, which I knew I should either consider sweet of him, or terrifying since I’d never, not once, been in the kind of danger that any werewolf had treated me like a part of their pack.
I paused, my finger over the coffee machineGObutton and wondered at that for a second. I seemed awfully calm about selling my soul. Was that like me? Was I always so calm when crazy stuff happened?
Maybe?
But at the back of my mind, doubt niggled. I had sold my soul. I had just spoken to my dead father. Shouldn’t I feel more…more?
Huh.
I pushed the button. “Okay, Big Bad, you can walk me out to the living room so we can all sit down and wait for whoever you called to get here.” I pushed at his back gently so as not to disturb his injuries.
Man was made of brick wall. He didn’t even budge.
“We’ll wait here.”
I rolled my eyes. “C’mon, Jame.” I took his hand and led him into the living room. “We can sit down and wait. Coffee’s going to take a couple minutes to brew.”
He pulled his hand out of mine and draped his arm instead around my shoulders. Instinct just wasn’t going to let him do anything else.
“Maybe the couch?” I suggested.
