Her eyes narrowed. Yes, he was right to be angry with her; even so, she wouldn’t be his whipping post. “Stop yelling at me.”
She felt his emotions dance in quick succession: fury, frustration, relief, and something else, something she couldn’t — or wouldn’t — name. “Fine,” he said quietly. “Keep your head in the game, dearest, or a memory will try to eat you again.” He whirled around and stomped off, leaving Caitlin to hurry after him.
Stupid, stupid, stupid! She mentally slapped herself for being careless, and she slapped herself again for having to be rescued by Aaron. He’d never let her live that down. Damn it.
Well, at least he had rescued her. And now she was too mad to think about his ass. So that was all right.
Aaron came to a halt in front of a mirror. He was careful to keep his gaze on his feet as he reached out with his magic to confirm that this was it. And. . yes, there. Jesse’s spirit was somewhere within. He was amazed by how similar her soul felt to Caitlin’s, and he wondered, not for the first time, if Caitlin had given Jesse more than mortality and a shared name two months ago.
Did they share a soul? If so, no wonder the memory box had gone awry.
But as he recognized Jesse’s spirit, he also noted that it was too solid, too present within the memory. He frowned. Whatever she was reliving, it would be real to her. And it would loop continuously, keeping her sealed within while her body starved. Soon enough, she would die in the Real. Her soul would either fade or be locked within the Surreal — all because she had opened a memory box not intended for her.
It was an insidious trap. If he had done it on purpose, he would have been terribly impressed with himself.
“Got her,” he said, turning to face Caitlin. Like him, she was purposely not looking at the mirror. “Remember: we go in, you go up to Jesse and wake her up. Do it fast, before the memory overwhelms you.”
She nodded curtly.
“As soon as she wakes up, the memory will shatter. We’ll launch ourselves out before everything winks out. Be ready for a hasty exit.”
Again, she nodded. And then she did something that nearly dropped him on his ass: she kissed him. It was sudden, and passionate, and over far too quickly. A moment of heat and promise, and then she pulled away, leaving him rather dazed. “For luck,” she said softly.
“Luck,” he agreed, his head spinning. He steadied himself, then said, “Ready?”
Face pale, she nodded.
Then they stepped into the mirror. .
. . and Aaron flinches from the intense heat baking his skin. The ground is flat and hot beneath his feet; he takes in a startled breath and he feels his throat char. And he knows in his soul that he’s in Hell.
Not me, he tells himself. This isn’t happening to me.
Ahead of him is the biggest wall he’s ever seen, and a pair of wrought-iron gates. Muffled sounds echo beyond the wall — screeches and moans and laughter and snorts and more, so much more, a cacophony of exclamations that make him want to clasp his hands to his ears. But this isn’t real.
Not real.
In front of the gates, two demons are groping each other. Satyrs, both of them — the woman bald with cherry red skin and a curly black pelt, the man a bright turquoise and blond. Fire-red horns jut out from beneath his golden hair, and his eyes flash amber as he grins at the woman — the succubus. “Patience,” the incubus says as he wraps his arm around her waist and crushes her against his chest. “Just a little taste first.”
Not real.
He kisses her, hard, and Aaron sees, feels, their passion as she kisses him in return. Now the incubus is licking his way down her chin, tracing the lines of her jaw, teasing her collarbone with his mouth. She arches back, exposing her breasts, telling him with her body exactly what she wants him to do.
Not. .
Aaron wants to pull his gaze away. But he can’t. He watches as the demon sucks one of her nipples until she is writhing in his arms, her delighted groans like music. Now the incubus attends her other nipple, working on it with his lips and tongue, blowing on it.
Aaron is groaning, too, as the demons play. He feels their arousal, their need, and it sinks into his skin, setting him on fire. Panting, he watches the demons and slowly loses himself to lust, thinking of Caitlin as he wraps one hand over his shaft and begins to pump.
Hurry, he thinks, but whether it’s for Caitlin to hurry over to Jezebel or for himself to come, he couldn’t say.
The succubus’ hands tangle in the demon’s hair, and her hips roll as he sucks her, back and forth, first one nipple and then the other. His hand reaches down, snaking over the curve of her belly. Down more, trailing his fingers over her mound. Stroking her sex. She lets out a throaty growl — insistent, demanding, hungry.
Aaron growls, thinking of Caitlin, wanting her like never before. He wants to pin her to the ground and fuck her senseless. He wants to hear her squeal as he pounds her again and again.
Caitlin. .
And now Caitlin is rushing past him, dashing over to where the incubus is prodding the succubus to orgasm. She throws her arm back and cracks her palm against the female’s cheek. “Wake up, you stupid succubus!”
The incubus keeps fingering the female demon, who is looking at Caitlin with heavily lidded eyes and a lazy grin. “Heya, Sis,” she says thickly. “Come here often?”
“Jesse Harris,” Caitlin says in the way that siblings have mastered over the millennia, “you stop this right now!” She slaps the succubus again. “Come on, Jesse — it’s time to wake up!”
No longer grinning, the succubus blinks. “What?”
“You heard me,” Caitlin says, preparing to strike her again. “This isn’t real.”
This time, the succubus catches Caitlin’s arm. For a moment, it looks like she might rip the limb from Caitlin’s body. But then she cocks her head and looks at Caitlin, and then at Aaron, and then she considers the incubus, who’s still playing her body like a fiddle.
“You’re right,” she finally says to Caitlin. “If this were real, Daun would be at least four inches bigger.”
And like that, the succubus disappears in a puff of brimstone.
Aaron feels the lust recede just as everything around him fades out. Caitlin launches herself at him, tackling him to the ground. .
. . and Aaron opened his eyes. He was in Paul’s living room, seated on the floor, Caitlin’s hand in his. He stared at Caitlin, and he shivered from the vestiges of lust that danced along his body. He wanted to pin her to the ground and fuck her senseless.
No. That hadn’t been real.
Yes. Yes it had.
Embarrassed and flustered and horny, he opened his mouth to say something, anything. But that’s when Jesse propped herself up and said, “Sweetie, you look much better with your clothes off.”
The coffee shop was fairly empty, which, for Manhattan, was a small miracle. Caitlin murmured her thanks as Aaron handed her an environmentally-friendly cup filled with steaming liquid caffeine. He sank into the chair opposite her, and for a few minutes neither of them said anything as they drank their coffee. No longer joined, Caitlin couldn’t feel Aaron’s emotions. There was no need; the damage, if that’s what it was, had already been done.
She still wanted him. And she knew that he wanted her just as much.