he’d get rid of the lot of them and start fresh. He knew a demon in Haiti who could supply as many as needed.
He moved back to the mirror, concentrating, but all he could see was himself. That oaf of a sorcerer. He frowned, growing angry when he realized how often he was slipping into human expressions, even when there was no one around to see his disguise, although he was glad it had remained intact after all this time. He admired the front and then turned away from the mirror, spinning his head around backwards.
Yes. That side was holding up, as well.
***
It was worse than trying to keep up with a child. Bree tucked the receipt in her wallet and searched the street for Faelan’s dark head. A warrior should be easy to spot. She hoped he was a warrior. A demon couldn’t look that good.
Then again, Satan couldn’t have been too ugly, or Eve would’ve run screaming from the Garden of Eden instead of listening to his lies. And Lucifer, the morning star, the signet of perfection, full of wisdom and perfect in beauty —yikes—until his pride corrupted him and he tried to become greater than God. The dark angels, demons disguised as angels of light, all beautiful. Like Faelan, who was hiding everything but his name. He probably would’ve hidden that too, if he hadn’t been half unconscious when she asked.
Bree spied a bakery, and a few stores down, a lingerie shop. Food and sex. She hurried toward Margaret’s Bakery, since it was closest. An assortment of delicious aromas teased her nose as she opened the door. A round, pink-cheeked woman smiled from behind the counter.
“I’m looking for a man—” Bree started.
“Aren’t we all, dear? All I got’s bread and doughnuts, but they’re the next best thing.”
“I don’t know about that… well, maybe doughnuts. I’ve lost my… friend. He’s tall—six four—longish dark hair, wearing a kilt.”
“Oh, him.” She smacked a hand over her heart. “I’d take him over doughnuts any day. He just left. Ate all the banana nut bread samples and headed for the lingerie—”
Bree’s feet were already in motion as she shouted thanks over her shoulder. The door slammed on the woman’s reply. Bree speed-walked down the street, dodging the morning shoppers, her tote bag with Faelan’s new clothes bumping her thigh.
Faelan in a lingerie shop? He’d have a heart attack. In his time prostitutes would’ve worn more clothing than the average woman today. Bree burst through the door, and there he was, in all his kilted glory, standing near the edible panty display, holding a tiny piece of material in his hands.
“Go ask if he needs help,” one of the slack-jawed girls whispered to the other, both staring at him as if he were Attila the Hun.
“You do it.”
They were probably afraid he’d ravish them. Bree wasn’t sure he wouldn’t, but she wasn’t about to stand idly by and let him ravish someone else. She set her bag down and cautiously approached him like an animal in the wild. “Faelan?”
He looked up, eyes so dark with passion that her heart moaned. Before she could blink, he pulled her into the dressing room behind him. The door slammed and his lips came down on hers, his body pinning her against the wall. Bree put her hands against his shoulders to push him away, but the feel of hard muscle and warm skin was too much. His mouth moved to her neck, biting and licking until her knees gave out, and all that held her up was his leg wedged between her thighs. He tasted every bit as delicious as she’d remembered, desperate with a touch of divine.
“Do you need any… help?” a timid voice asked from outside the closed door.
They both froze. Faelan dragged his mouth from hers. He looked at her body astride his leg. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice rough.
“Everything’s fine,” Bree croaked, her back still pressed to the wall. Faelan steadied her and backed away, his expression grim. He rearranged his kilt and sporran as Bree pulled her skirt down and ran her hands over her hair, hoping it didn’t look like they’d been doing what they had.
“Let’s get out of here.” She’d done some stupid things in her life, but since she’d found Faelan, she was off the chart.
He took her hand, and they exited the dressing room. An elderly woman waited outside the door, holding two thick robes. Next to her, the salesgirl was trying to cover her shock.
“Well, I never,” the woman said, glaring at Faelan from head to kilt over the top of her bifocals. “What kind of place is this?”
“Ma’am.” Faelan tipped his head, the edible panties still in his hand.
Bree snatched the panties and put them on the counter. “They didn’t fit.” She scooped up her bag and yanked Faelan outside. He took the tote bag from her, and they trudged in silence for a block until they came to a bench on a quiet street.
Bree sat, and Faelan joined her, putting a large space between them. “I’ll leave as soon as we get back. I need my dirk.”
“Where will you go? You’ll starve.”
“I can hunt.”
“You have to have a license to hunt. You probably need food. Let’s try that taco place. You can change clothes in the restroom. You’re drawing too much attention in that kilt. Then, we’re getting you a cell phone or a leash. I’m not losing you again.”
***
“Do you need a doctor?”
Faelan’s hand was pressed to his chest, his face pale.
