Kiillian stepped into the hallway.
“Adam, you’d better let her go.”
Adam shot him a sneer of a smile. A smile Killian recognized instantly. Vepar.
“I think our boss will be very interested in this,” Vepar said. “You wasting your time with a lovesick human.”
Killian saw Poppy gape at him, trying to comprehend what was going on.
“Why are you doing this?” Killian demanded.
“Because I can. Because I think it’s time for Satan to see who is the worthy demon. The one who deserves more power.”
Killian shook his head. That was what this was about?
Again Poppy stared at Killian, terrified. She struggled in Vepar’s grip, but he held her easily.
“Let her go,” Killian said, his voice a low growl. “Clearly this is between us.”
Vepar laughed and tightened his hold; a whoosh of air escaped Poppy’s lungs.
“You can’t even get yourself out of a magic spell. You aren’t even trying. Instead, you are dallying with an insipid little mortal. While I work. While I bring more damned souls to Hell. Why would Satan favor you?” Vepar spat.
Killian stared at his coworker. He was doing all this just for job advancement. He was simply spying to report back to Satan. Nothing but a lowly tattletale.
But then Vepar stunned him. With lightning speed, he moved his hands from Poppy’s waist to her throat. He snaked his hands around her fragile neck, squeezing.
Poppy made sickening gasps, her fingers clawing at the hands choking her, desperate for air.
Killian leapt to grab Vepar/Adam, his own hands going for the other demon’s throat. Killian slammed him repeatedly against the wall. Over and over until he released Poppy. She collapsed to the floor, and Killian prayed, yes, prayed, she’d just fallen unconscious.
When Killian let go of Vepar/Adam’s neck, he too crumpled to the floor. Behind him, Killian heard the gathering of a crowd, but he didn’t look toward them. He rushed to Poppy’s side, checking her pulse. She was okay. Breathing. Alive.
He scooped her up against his chest and shoved his way through the crowd. He saw Eric in the sea of faces and called to him to check Adam. Then he left the bar.
He didn’t really recall the trip home, his attention centered solely on Poppy. She was okay, but she’d never understand or accept what had just happened. Who he was.
When he finally got her to her apartment, he took her straight to bed. Carefully, he placed her in the center, then sat down beside her, watching her. Afraid she wasn’t really okay.
After a few minutes, maybe hours—he didn’t really know—her dark eyes fluttered open, and she stared up at him.
“What—what happened?” she whispered, her voice hoarse.
He didn’t speak, waiting for her memories to return.
“Are you okay?” she finally asked, and he couldn’t tell if she recalled anything. Then she added, “Did you and Adam get into a fight?”
She didn’t remember—not clearly anyway.
“Yeah, we did, but we are both okay.”
Poppy nodded, closing her eyes again. “No reason to fight over me.”
Killian watched her rest, then murmured, “You are the
She smiled slightly, but didn’t answer.
Within minutes, Poppy’s breathing became even again. He just listened to the soothing sound. Had he ever just listened to someone breathe? He didn’t have to strain his memory over that one. The answer was no.
Yet at this moment, he felt this was the only place he could be content. Okay. She’d used the word
But now he really understood Heaven. It was a place where Poppy was safe and alive and still …
He heard her saying those words she’d said to Adam—when Adam had still been Adam. And he knew she’d meant them. He could just—tell.
Love. Yet another thing he’d never contemplated. Love—not a foreign concept to demons, but to him, yes.
She roused then, nestling among her pillows. She smiled sweetly at him, and something in his chest tightened. A painfully full feeling.
“Time for bed?” She still didn’t remember. But she would.
“For you, yes.” He brought her thick duvet up, tucking it around her.
“You aren’t coming to bed?” Her face fell like a child being told she couldn’t have a toy or a piece of candy.
“I will in a minute. You just rest.”
“Now,” she said with languid bossiness.
He chuckled. And he was so tempted to hold her, just for a moment.
But he couldn’t. He didn’t feel that he deserved to hold her. Not after the events of tonight. Not when she would eventually be repulsed by him.
“In a bit. Rest.”
She sighed, then murmured, “You’d never fall for Gina, would you?”
He almost laughed, amazed that was all she’d retained of their crazy night.
“Not in a million years.”
She smiled again, and he did allow himself to lean in for one last kiss. Her little hands came up to cup his face, the touch both sweet and sensual at the same time. Just like her.
He pulled away, telling himself he had to leave. Gather himself. Get real.
But instead of leaving, something urged him to stay. He walked around to the other side of the bed, watching her. Then he eased himself onto the mattress, just lounging beside her, arms crossed. Not touching her.
He’d stay just a little longer, until he decided what he had to do.
Small hands touched his body, slipping inside his shirt over his skin. His sleep-quieted body hummed to life. Every nerve ending centered on that touch. Phantom lips joined in, hot, moist, feathery kisses following the path forged by roaming hands.
He pressed his head back into the pillows, arching his body in response to both caresses. He just wanted more. More.
And more came. Hands teasing down past his navel, down lower, lower. He moaned as fingers curled around his rigid cock. Then the hand began to stroke. Up. Down. Up. Down. A slick palm and fingers squeezing over his shaft. Over. And over.
He moaned again. The motion stopped, even though the hand still held his turgid flesh. Then another sensation hit him, as powerful and jarring as a battering ram. Yet such a tiny thing.
A breath. A hot puff of air against the oversensitized skin of his erection. His cock pulsed in response.
Another fiery breath, then a single, body-wracking lick up the length of his penis.
His own loud, harsh groan woke him. Another dream. Another one, so realistic, so amazing. Even now, so real.
“Hi.”
Killian lifted himself on an elbow to find Poppy kneeling by his hip, her small, delicate hand holding his erection. A thumb stroked the sensitive underside.
He closed his eyes, releasing a shuddering breath. When he opened them again, Poppy was still there. No figment of his imagination. No specter in a dream.
She smiled, and in the dim light, he could see the indent of her dimple.
“Lie back,” she told him, lightly moving her hand over him.
