full, hard arousal.
“Killian,” she whispered. “Killian …”
Her voice trailed off into a weird hiss, but even that didn’t detract from the sharp longing coursing through him. A longing that was so strong, so intense—
“Shit!”
Killian shot upright in bed, touching a hand to the piercing pain that suddenly stung his cheek.
Poppy. Where was she? And why had she scratched him? But instead of seeing her standing over him, he saw the sudden movement of something matted and dingy white shooting off the end of the bed, thumping to the floor and skittering out of the room.
The fucking cat, he realized.
He looked around him again, still disoriented. Poppy wasn’t here. He’d been dreaming.
He lifted his hand away from his face to see smears of blood on his fingers. That damned cat.
Falling back onto the mattress, he kept his hand pressed to his cheek.
“Cats and teenage girls,” he growled. “Pure evil.”
He closed his eyes, trying to get some control over his cloudy head. It had been a dream. Nothing but a dream. Poppy hadn’t come to him in a sexy negligee. She hadn’t stroked his skin, driving his senses and body wild. He was not attracted to her.
All of it had been a strange figment of his imagination. A dream created by the ridiculous orders of the adolescent girls who ruled his life at the moment.
Who wouldn’t have weird dreams under these circumstances?
“Just a crazy dream,” he assured himself.
Which was all fine and dandy, but did not explain his still-hard erection, tenting the floral comforter like an effin’ maypole.
His eyes snapped open as the mattress shifted. The cat sat at the end of the bed, looking decidedly smug.
“You are evil,” he muttered to the hideous beast.
“That goes without saying,” the cat answered.
Killian blinked, his dick instantly shriveling. Why hadn’t he suspected this was Vepar all along?
“Did you scratch me?” Killian snapped. He didn’t like Vepar on the best of days, but at this moment—let’s just say he’d give serious thought to strangling the cat if that would kill Vepar too.
“No, I didn’t,” Vepar said, lifting a paw and inspecting it. “But I gotta say, I do kinda like this animal.”
Killian didn’t say a word, or even make any expression. He’d pushed his luck enough by being so terse.
Vepar sighed, his furry chest inflating, then deflating. “So … why are you still here?”
Killian sat up. “I haven’t found this woman a mate. It’s … it’s taking a little time.”
The cat’s head bobbed, and Killian thought Vepar was going to be understanding—just a little.
“Well, you could just kill her.”
“Kill her?”
“Sure. Kill her. If this mortal is dead, then you can’t find her a mate, and you can get back to Hell and work, where you belong.”
Yeah, that was more the response he should have expected from Vepar. He wasn’t just a demon; he was an ass too.
“Killing her seems a little extreme, plus she’s the only person the kid who conjured me has,” Killian said. “I’ll fix this quickly—and my way,” he added.
“Fine.”
Right away, Killian could tell when Vepar left the cat’s body. Gone was the calm, intelligent air, replaced by a narrowed, wary stare, a twitching tail, and an attack posture.
But instead of another attack, the cat shot off the bed and skittered out of the room.
Killian threw back the covers and headed to the bathroom. Any lingering effects of his sexy dream were gone, so he opted for steaming hot water. He needed to get thinking clearly—and apparently he did need a plan.
He washed with quick efficiency, while his mind turned over the best way to find Poppy a soul mate. But as he finished rinsing, then stepped out of the shower to towel off, he still wasn’t sure how to undertake such a task.
He wandered back to the bedroom and tugged on the clothes he was wearing for a third day. He hated to put them back on again, but he didn’t have much choice. He
“Killian,” she whispered. “Killian …”
Her voice trailed off into a weird hiss, but even that didn’t detract from the sharp longing coursing through him. A longing that was so strong, so intense—
“Shit!”
Killian shot upright in bed, touching a hand to the piercing pain that suddenly stung his cheek.
Poppy. Where was she? And why had she scratched him? But instead of seeing her standing over him, he saw the sudden movement of something matted and dingy white shooting off the end of the bed, thumping to the floor and skittering out of the room.
The fucking cat, he realized.
He looked around him again, still disoriented. Poppy wasn’t here. He’d been dreaming.
He lifted his hand away from his face to see smears of blood on his fingers. That damned cat.
Falling back onto the mattress, he kept his hand pressed to his cheek.
“Cats and teenage girls,” he growled. “Pure evil.”
He closed his eyes, trying to get some control over his cloudy head. It had been a dream. Nothing but a dream. Poppy hadn’t come to him in a sexy negligee. She hadn’t stroked his skin, driving his senses and body wild. He was not attracted to her.
All of it had been a strange figment of his imagination. A dream created by the ridiculous orders of the adolescent girls who ruled his life at the moment.
Who wouldn’t have weird dreams under these circumstances?
“Just a crazy dream,” he assured himself.
Which was all fine and dandy, but did not explain his still-hard erection, tenting the floral comforter like an effin’ maypole.
His eyes snapped open as the mattress shifted. The cat sat at the end of the bed, looking decidedly smug.
“You are evil,” he muttered to the hideous beast.
“That goes without saying,” the cat answered.
Killian blinked, his dick instantly shriveling. Why hadn’t he suspected this was Vepar all along?
“Did you scratch me?” Killian snapped. He didn’t like Vepar on the best of days, but at this moment—let’s just say he’d give serious thought to strangling the cat if that would kill Vepar too.
“No, I didn’t,” Vepar said, lifting a paw and inspecting it. “But I gotta say, I do kinda like this animal.”
Killian didn’t say a word, or even make any expression. He’d pushed his luck enough by being so terse.
Vepar sighed, his furry chest inflating, then deflating. “So … why are you still here?”
Killian sat up. “I haven’t found this woman a mate. It’s … it’s taking a little time.”
The cat’s head bobbed, and Killian thought Vepar was going to be understanding—just a little.
“Well, you could just kill her.”
“Kill her?”
“Sure. Kill her. If this mortal is dead, then you can’t find her a mate, and you can get back to Hell and work, where you belong.”
Yeah, that was more the response he should have expected from Vepar. He wasn’t just a demon; he was an ass too.
“Killing her seems a little extreme, plus she’s the only person the kid who conjured me has,” Killian said. “I’ll fix this quickly—and my way,” he added.
“Fine.”
Right away, Killian could tell when Vepar left the cat’s body. Gone was the calm, intelligent air, replaced by a narrowed, wary stare, a twitching tail, and an attack posture.
But instead of another attack, the cat shot off the bed and skittered out of the room.
Killian threw back the covers and headed to the bathroom. Any lingering effects of his sexy dream were gone, so he opted for steaming hot water. He needed to get thinking clearly—and apparently he did need a plan.
He washed with quick efficiency, while his mind turned over the best way to find Poppy a soul mate. But as he finished rinsing, then stepped out of the shower to towel off, he still wasn’t sure how to undertake such a task.
He wandered back to the bedroom and tugged on the clothes he was wearing for a third day. He hated to put them back on again, but he didn’t have much choice. He
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