plik

If you summon this demon, he's guaranteed to come!

With a killer succubus leaving a trail of desiccated corpses around town, Detective

Lars Thornsson knows he shouldn’t be falling for a suspect, but a hot little piece of demon

tail like Rael is impossible to resist.

Sexy male succubus Rael has an insatiable appetite for men that can get him into all

kinds of trouble. And he's just found his favorite flavor: a hunky blond detective. When those

cool Nordic looks combine with Rael's smouldering dark charms, all Hell could be let loose!

I absolutely fell in love with Rael and Lars and would love to read more about them.

JL Merrow has created two unforgettable characters everyone should have an opportunity to

meet - Delane, Coffee Time Romance

Merrow’s cheeky turns of phrase and rapid-fire plotting kept me grinning all the way

to the sweet, explosive climax. - Lee Benoit

A re-edited and expanded version of a story previously published in the Torquere

anthology The Care and Feeding of Demons.

A CALLING FOR PLEASURE

J L MERROW

Cover art by Lou Harper.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author

Prologue

The rush of the summoning fizzled out of Rael’s brain, leaving his mood switched to

high and all his senses buzzing. He’d materialized in a small room with the drapes drawn—a

teenager’s bedroom, he guessed from the weird-ass posters on the walls and the eau de socks

perfuming the air. There was a raggedy salt circle messing up the carpet around him, and

thirteen stubby, smoky little candles he was just itching to snuff before they made the whole

room reek like rancid fat. Damn, someone’s mom was going to be mad about this little stunt.

A pimply-faced kid sat on the bed with his jaw hanging open. As Rael watched, a

grimoire slipped from slack fingers and fell with a thud to the carpet.

Rael gave the sebum king his best slow smile. “You called?” he breathed, feeling the

vibes as his powers rippled right on out through the air.

“You’re... you’re not a succubus!” the kid croaked. “You’re a man!”

Rael raised an eyebrow. “You know, there are laws against gender discrimination in

the workplace.”

“In Hell?”

“We’re not in Hell now, are we, honey?” Rael leaned forward, fixing the kid right in

the eye. “Now, why don’t we get me out of this circle, and I’ll show you what a real demon

can do for you?”

Ψ Ψ Ψ

Detective Lars Thornsson of the Paranormal Enforcement Agency felt the iron bands

of an incipient migraine tighten around his forehead. “Another one already?”

They’d been on this case for three weeks now, and were getting nowhere fast. The

succubus they were after had put, at last count, thirteen men in the morgue, their souls

literally sucked out through their dicks. Just contemplating it made Lars simultaneously

wince and think damn, what a way to go.

Lars’ partner, Rochelle, frowned, although that was kind of a default expression with

her in any case. “Maybe; maybe not. This one’s still alive. Morton Meers, age eighteen.

Found by his parents. He’d called a demon into his bedroom, would you believe it? Salt circle

a fucking fairy could have gotten out of, and the candles damn near set fire to the drapes.”

She snorted her disapproval. “Amateur.”

“Successful amateur,” Lars reminded her. “Even if he did get more than he bargained

for.” He had a grudging respect for anyone who actually managed to get magic to work for

them—his own Talent level rated slightly lower than your average tabby cat. As the half-

human son of an Immortal, it had been a source of acute embarrassment all his life. “So what

was the damage? To the kid, I mean.”

Rochelle shrugged. “Usual. Massive dehydration, exhaustion, localized skin abrasion.

Only not fatal, this time.”

“So either our serial killer draws the line at kids, or we got us a whole different demon

—this one with a conscience,” Lars mused.

“Guess so. Or it was real grossed out by the kid’s acne.”

Lars smiled despite himself. “Doesn’t sound like our girl, but I guess we’ll have to

check it out. Has the kid made a statement?”

“Oh, yeah. Doesn’t remember a damn thing, he says. Can’t explain how the salt got

there, just lit the candles because he thought they were pretty, and no, ma’am, he’d never

seen that grimoire in his life.” She laughed. At least, if it was anyone else, Lars would have

called that sound a laugh. Rochelle wasn’t exactly known for her sense of humor. Unlike her

parents, of course. Actually, come to think of it, being christened Chelle Rochelle probably

went a fair way toward explaining why she didn’t have a sense of humor.

“So, do we know if he had the brains to command the demon to get its ass back to

Hell after it had done its thing?” he asked without a lot of hope.

“Actually, we pretty much know he didn’t. The window was broken from the inside—

left glass all over the front yard. Our demon must have leapt out after it munched on the kid.”

Fantastic. So now it looked like they had two rogue succubi running loose in the city.

Lars sighed heavily, rubbing his forehead. “Hell. We have to get a description out of this kid,

put out an APB. Just because Meers got lucky doesn’t mean the next victim isn’t going to

wind up dehumidifying the morgue.”

Ψ Ψ Ψ

Morton Meers was perched on the edge of his hospital bed swinging his heels and

looking a hell of a lot younger than eighteen. Maybe the hospital gown covered in teddy-

bears helped some, but Lars reckoned the fact that he was a scrawny little runt with a face

you could play connect-the-dots on probably had more to do with it.

Lars dragged up an encouraging smile. “Mr. Meers? I’m Detective Thornsson, this is

Detective Rochelle. We need to ask you a couple of questions about the night you were

attacked.”

The kid blanched. “I told you guys already, I don’t remember anything,” he whined.

“That was the regular cops, son. We’re the Paranormal Enforcement Agency. We

understand you might not want everyone to know exactly what happened that night.” He

grabbed a chair and sat down, hoping it’d make him look a little more approachable. At six

foot four, he knew he tended to intimidate people. “Maybe you’d prefer to talk to my

partner?” He looked hopefully at Rochelle, who was leaning against the wall with her arms

folded.

Apparently not too big on maternal instincts, Rochelle scowled at Lars briefly before

directing an insincere smile at the victim. “You know, you’d hardly be the first young man

who’s looked for supernatural assistance in finding a girlfriend.” Her tones, Lars guessed,

were meant to be sugared, but they came out more like they’d been gritted.

“It wasn’t a girl!” the kid blurted out, clapping his hands to his mouth afterward,

presumably scared what else might slip out.

Well, that put a different slant on it. “I’m sorry, Mr. Meers,” Lars said, getting up. “I

guess there’s been a misunderstanding. We’re on the hunt for a succubus that’s a serial killer.

But if you called up an incubus—”

“No! I’m not like that!” Meers looked even smaller in his desperation.

Lars felt sorry for him. “Son, there’s no shame in being gay. I’m that way myself—”

The kid backed away a little, his hands disappearing behind him like he was trying to

hold his hospital gown closed at the back. “I’m not! I wanted a girl, okay, but this, this man

turned up, and he... oh, fuck, he...”

“Blew your brains out?” Rochelle’s tone was sardonic.

Lars looked at her in resignation.

“Oh, God!” The kid collapsed on the bed and put his face in his hands. “Am I going to

turn into a fag?”

That migraine was coming along nicely now. “That’s generally not how it happens,”

Lars said, as kindly as he could.

Ψ Ψ Ψ

“So, do you think it’s our demon?” Rochelle asked bluntly as they got back into their

squad car.

Lars shrugged. “Hard to tell. Hell, I didn’t even know you could get male succubi.”

Rochelle fixed him with a speculative look. “Lemme guess, Thornsson, your teenage

years would’ve been one helluva lot more interesting if you’d known.”

Lars coloured, his thoughts having been running along pretty similar lines—especially

if it had been this particular demon. They’d had to prise a detailed description out of Meers

with a crowbar, but it sounded like this guy was hot stuff. Smooth dark skin, slender, graceful

body, mischievous eyes and a mouth that—well, Meers had gotten kind of incoherent at that

point, but Lars had a damn good imagination and he figured he could fill in the gaps.

“We need to re-examine the files of the previous victims,” he said, pressing on with

business. “See if there’s anything to suggest they were bisexual or homosexual.”

Rochelle chewed her lip reflectively. “Or, we could try a scrying. Get me those pieces

of glass from the kid’s window—a dollar will get you twenty that demon left some blood on

one of them when it busted outta there.”

“Good point—if it did, that could be our big break in this case. Odin knows we’re due

for one. Okay, C, you’re the expert here. Fire up that bowl of yours and let’s see what you

can get.”

Ψ Ψ Ψ

Licking distractedly at the scratch on his hand, Rael wandered through the darkening

city streets with a big old happy grin on his face. Damn, it had been way too long since he’d

last been topside. What was it, a century? Two? The population seemed to have exploded

since then. Main Street was like a frickin’ smorgasbord. A cute young man in jeans so tight

he had to have made a deal with the devil just to get them on that perfect, round ass sauntered

on by then stopped, spinning on his heel. He tipped Rael a wink and handed him a flyer.

“You been to Mefisto’s yet? It’s down the end of that street, you can’t miss it.” He

pointed down an encouragingly dingy alleyway. “It’s the best place to meet hot guys.”

Rael tore his eyes away from that gorgeous bod long enough to glance at the leaflet.

“Hey, I think you got a spelling mistake here. That’s usually a ph in the middle, there.”

Cute-as-a-button grinned. “No mistake, dude. But that’s on a strictly voluntary basis.

Plenty of guys go there just to dance and meet up, and Friday nights the drinks are half price

if you take your shirt off. And that shirt of yours seriously needs to come off.”

Rael pouted. “You don’t like my shirt?”

The kid licked his lips. “Hell, no. That shirt has way too much fabric in it.”

Rael raised an eyebrow. “Well, honey, maybe we should do something about that.

You got a minute?”

Perky-and-shiny was practically drooling now. “Dude, I got several.”

Man, Rael loved this city with its big wide streets and its dark, narrow alleyways.

Perfect for when you just couldn’t wait for your next meal. Didn’t take but a minute before

they were both shirtless, jeans open, Rael’s mouth wrapped around that young, sweet cock.

“Dude!” the kid gasped, as Rael swallowed him down, careful not to get too carried

away like the last time. Rael felt kind of bad about that. Poor kid had summoned him out of

Hell, given him a free ride to the all-you-can-eat buffet topside, and Rael had damn near

sucked the life out of him. That was just rude.

Plus, he’d tasted kinda icky. Damn low calorie foods. You just ate and ate and you

were never satisfied. This guy now—man, he had plenty of mojo.

“Oh, man...” The cute guy’s hips bucked as Rael’s mouth filled with the sweetest,

salty snack he’d had in an eternity.

“Honey, they should bottle that and sell it,” Rael purred, licking his lips and springing

to his feet. “You look after yourself now, you hear?”

The little cutie just nodded, looking kind of dazed. Rael zipped him up and kissed him

goodbye before heading on down the alleyway to Mefisto’s. He’d had the appetizer; now it

was time for the entree.

The place wasn’t much from the outside, just a big old black door opening on a

staircase that could have led straight down to Hell itself. Rael flashed the bruiser on the door

a smile full of promise in lieu of payment and sauntered on in, the beat of the music heading

straight on down to where he lived. The club was all dark corners, loud music, and hot, hot

men. Rael figured he finally knew why the angels kept banging on about Heaven because,

baby, this was it and it rocked.

He sashayed through the crowd, a touch of hips here, a sultry caress there, getting

drunk on the rush of male hormones, alcohol, and good old-fashioned lust that was saturating

the air. If he flicked his tongue out, he could taste it, rich and spicy like the best goddamned

banquet he’d ever crashed. Rael had never known anything like it. He was just starting to

wonder if anyone would mind if he just orgasmed himself to death bang in the middle of the

dance floor when she walked in to call out the rainclouds on Rael’s parade.

Tall, stacked, with hair the color of hellfire, she stood out in this joint like a priest in a

bordello, only Rael didn’t figure her intentions were any too pure. This kitten was sin on a

stick and damn, did she know it. Easy to spot the bi boys, they were drawn to her like flies to

Beelzebub himself. Although from the looks of surprise on some of those faces, half of those

boys had figured themselves to be as queer as a satyr’s horn not five minutes ago. Man, what

Rael couldn’t do if he had a quarter of her power. This chick was way out of his league, must

be eighth, even ninth circle. Rael was just a small-town boy from the fringes of the second

and man, was he feeling it.

Sonuvabitch! This was supposed to be his party! Rael’s happy buzz went up in smoke

like a pious thought in Hell.

“Hey, man, you wanna dance?” a reedy voice piped up in Rael’s ear.

Rael looked at the guy mournfully. “Not really in the mood.”

“Hey, c’mon, man, lighten up a little! Someone as pretty as you shouldn’t be looking

so blue.”

The guy was short and cuddly, with the cutest pair of eyes Rael had ever seen

languishing in a face like a potato. “Honey, looks aren’t everything.” The puppy-eyes

drooped, and Rael muscled up a smile. “Hell, maybe I could go for one little dance.”

They moved off into the throng, Rael making damn sure he steered his ass well away

from Hell-chick. Not that he could have gotten near her if he’d tried, with all those macho

types jostling and fighting for position around her like vultures on a three-day-old corpse.

Potato-face snorted, a bitchy little curl to his lip. “What the hell’s she doing in here

with her high heels and her implants? On a mission to convert the masses?”

“Honey, you don’t know how right you are,” Rael purred. He was getting to like this

guy.

Ψ Ψ Ψ

Lars did his damnedest not to drum his fingers on the desk as Rochelle got out her

scrying bowl, filled it up from a bottle he was damn sure he’d seen her topping up from the

station water cooler earlier, muttered an incantation, threw in a handful of herbs, added a

shard of glass from the crime scene—and then just sat there with her eyes shut for a nerve-

grinding fifteen minutes.

He sagged in relief when she opened her eyes and stared into the bowl, her frown

wrinkling up her forehead like corrugated iron. Lars wondered if she’d flatten him if he said

anything about Botox.

“What’ve you got?” he asked, peering forward into the bowl impatiently, forgetting

for the moment that all he’d be able to see would be his own reflection. And even that was

pretty damn fuzzy around the edges.

Rochelle didn’t look up. “Jesus, Thornsson, this ain’t like frickin’ cable! Some kind of

club, all right? Dark. Mostly men—guess we hit pay dirt with the fag angle.”

Lars decided to ignore the dig at his sexuality. Hell, at least he occasionally got some.

“C, there are a hundred and one gay bars in this city. Can’t you narrow it down?”

“I’m trying, dickwad. Jeez, does it have to be so damn dark in these places?” She

squinted, her nose almost touching the water. “Okay. On the wall, some weird-ass devil

motif. Like a pair of horns, forked tail, pitchfork—you know, Thornsson, I thought you guys

were supposed to have decorative flair? And a clenched fist, like on those old commie flags,

punching through a circle...”

“Got it! Mefisto’s.” Lars colored slightly.

Rochelle raised an eyebrow. “Mefisto’s?”

“Uh, yeah. Mefisto’s. I don’t go there a whole lot.”

Rochelle snorted. “Sure you don’t. Now are we going to nail this demon’s ass, or are

we just going to sit around all day talking about what you do for recreation?”

“We’re going to nail this demon’s ass,” Lars said grimly, grabbing his coat.

Three minutes later he was steering the squad car around hairpin bends while

Rochelle snarled at him from the passenger seat. “Damn it, Thornsson! You got any idea how

frickin’ hard it is to see a picture in this thing? Quit with the fucking handbrake turns!

Jeezus!”

Lars spared her a glance, hoping the plastic wrap on the scrying bowl was up to the

challenge of keeping his upholstery dry. “Is our guy still there?”

“How the fuck would I know? Way you’re driving, I may as well have my head down

a frickin’ curry-house toilet!”

Ψ Ψ Ψ

Rael’s good mood was coming back in spades. Little Miss I-steal-your-menfolk bitch

had disappeared, and short, squat and homely had a hard on the size of Manhattan humping

like a horny dog against Rael’s thigh.

“Hey, you want to go out back for a little fresh air?” Rael asked with a sultry smile.

“You are going to love what I can do with my tongue.”

The guy’s pretty eyes lit up. “Hey, you got a piercing, man? I got blown by a guy with

a tongue-stud once, and it was un-be-fucking-lievable!”

“Honey, you ain’t seen nothing yet!” Rael promised him.

Ψ Ψ Ψ

The car squealed to a halt outside Mefisto’s. Rochelle relaxed her white-knuckle grip

on her scrying bowl and placed on the floor with exaggerated care. “Okay, Thornsson, you’re

the expert here. You want we should go in the front, guns blazing?” She smirked. “Or do we

make like the locals and use the back door?”

Lars rolled his eyes. “Real funny, C. We’ll go in the front. Without the guns. We

don’t want to start a riot.”

Flashing their badges, they bypassed the queue, the guy on the door making uh-oh

faces as he waved them in. Lars did his best not to trample anyone underfoot as he struggled

through the heaving, sweaty mass of dancers.

“Hey, C?” Lars shouted over the bump’n’grind of the music. “Your spidey-senses

tingling?” With all the testosterone in the air, he was kind of feeling a tingle himself.

“No, but some asshole just groped my crotch.” Rochelle looked like she wanted to

spit.

Lars carefully kept his expression bland. “Don’t sweat it, C, he must have thought you

were a guy. He’s probably more shocked than you were. Okay, this way. Looks like we’re

heading for the back door after all.”

Walking out of the pheromone-drenched atmosphere of the club into what passed for

fresh air outside was like walking into a block of ice. Evidence that it didn’t hit all of the club

goers that way was all around them—couples were grinding into each other up against the

wall, guys were on their knees to other guys, one lightweight had passed out cold... shit.

“C? I think we got here too late.” Lars bent down to feel the guy’s neck. “No pulse.

And dry, real dry.”

“Goddammit!” Rochelle swore, flipping open her radio. “Need a meat wagon here!”

She hit the off button so hard Lars was amazed it didn’t break—then whirled and

grabbed the cutest of the kneeling guys by the collar, jerking him forcibly off his partner’s

dick. This seemed to be the coup de grace as far as blow job guy was concerned. Rochelle

swore again, unsuccessfully trying to dodge a huge spurt of spunk.

Lars just had time to glimpse a forked tongue slipping back inside full, pretty lips

before Rochelle was slapping the silver cuffs onto a pair of slender, elegant wrists.

“You are so busted, asshole!” she snarled, wiping her face with an angry gesture.

Ψ Ψ Ψ

Rael sat in the specially-warded interrogation room, his spirits so low he figured

they’d made it all the way back down to Hell on their own and were probably sitting on his

momma’s couch right now, getting their ass busted for getting caught by the law. This was so

not the way things were supposed to go!

The only bright spot in Rael’s cloudy skies had been the arresting officer’s partner.

He was tall, blond, and bulked out in all the right places. And if Rael wasn’t very much

mistaken, he’d gotten just a little bulkier in one of them when he’d manhandled Rael into the

squad car.

Rael shifted in his seat on the rowanwood chair. Man, he was getting a hard on just

thinking about being interrogated by that stud.

Ψ Ψ Ψ

“Is this your demon?” Lars asked, gesturing toward the two-way mirror that showed

their pretty little captive sitting in the interrogation room getting his pout on.

Meers, clearly still shaky from his ordeal, nodded mutely. “Am I going to have to give

evidence against him?” he whined. “I don’t want everyone knowing I let a guy demon do me.

Do I even have to file charges?”

Lars sighed. “It may not come down to that. We’ve got a whole bunch of other crimes

we may be able to tie him to. You know where we found him tonight? Kneeling next to a

corpse.” Nodding his thanks to a now ashen-faced Meers, Lars left the room and marched in

to see the demon, Rochelle at his heels.

The demon looked up at them from beneath lush, dark eyelashes, his full, sensual

mouth down-turned at the corners. “You’ll have to excuse me not getting up,” he said in a

voice that was pure molasses, and shrugged as best he could with both arms cuffed behind

him. Lars wondered if the silver was hurting the guy.

Hold that thought. He couldn’t let the demon get to him. This guy had maybe

murdered fourteen people, and he’d certainly put one kid in the hospital. The last thing Lars

needed was to start feeling sorry for him. But damn, he was cute. Slender, dark-skinned and

snake-hipped, with devilish eyes and a mouth made for sin. Lars could just imagine what it’d

be like to have that lithe body in between his thighs, to run his fingers through soft-looking

black hair, to feel those delicate hands flowing all over his skin like melted chocolate...

“Damn it, C!” he cursed, tapping furiously at the amulet around his neck that was

supposed to protect him from demonic influence. “I thought you said these things were hot

stuff!”

Rochelle raised an eyebrow. “They are. You got a problem with being in on this

interrogation, Thornsson?” She snickered. “Experiencing a little, uh, leakage?”

“Uh, no, I’m good,” Lars muttered, shamefacedly.

“Oh, I’ll bet you are, honey,” the demon purred, looking a lot happier all of a sudden.

Oh, yeah, he knew he was getting to Lars, all right. Lars fingered his amulet nervously,

wondering if the protection was going to kick in any time soon.

“What do you go by?” he asked brusquely. No need to get onto actual names this

early in proceedings.

“Rael,” the demon answered, batting those damn eyelashes like a southern coquette at

a debutantes’ ball. “But you can call me anything you want.”

“Rael, then,” Lars said, with an attempt at sternness. “I’m DI Thornsson, this is DI

Rochelle. We’re investigating a series of demonic murders. I don’t think I need to spell out

just how bad it looks for you to be found at the scene of the latest crime? First of all, can you

confirm you are a succubus?”

Rael lifted an eyebrow. “Sure thing. How would you like me to confirm it? I got

plenty of ways, and they’re all good.”

Lars flushed. He’d walked into that one. “Orally. I mean, verbally!”

A lazy smile with a promise of wicked, wicked delights spread slowly over those

beautiful features. “Oh, honey, I can think of so many better things we could be doing right

now.” Suddenly, the demon’s angelic face darkened. “So it’s true, then? Hell-bitch took out

one of those bi boys tonight?”

Rochelle rolled her eyes. “Jesus, Hellboy, the corpse was lying right next to you. You

trying to tell me you had no damn idea you were sucking dick next to a dead guy?”

“I take pride in my work,” Rael pouted. “When I’m on the job, ain’t nothing gonna

distract me.”

“Uh, wait a minute,” Lars butted in, before he could get too distracted himself by

thoughts of Rael single-mindedly sucking dick. “Hell-bitch? Who the fuck’s that?”

“At a guess, I’d say she’s your girl. ‘Bout as tall as you, but not half as pretty. Red

hair, kinda well-endowed, if you like that kind of thing. Looked like an Amazon, but without

the home cosmetic improvements, if you get my drift. Had all the bi boys tripping over their

tongues back at the club. I didn’t see her leave; I was too busy being glad she was gone. Way

out of my league.” He paused a minute and looked at Lars speculatively. “You know, sugar,

I’m pretty sure I could find out her name.”

“You can do that?”

“Sure thing. But I’ll need my arms free and a couple things. Candles, herbs, you know

the drill, honey.”

Rochelle cackled. “Well, we got a kid named Meers I don’t figure will be using his

occult supplies again in a hurry.” Her face straightened out again quickly. “Nice try, Hell-

spawn. Only way you’re getting out of those cuffs is at the ass-end of a banishing spell, and

the day we let you near any witching stuff is the day your hometown starts gritting for ice.

Even if you’re not our guy, you damn near killed that kid.”

Rael’s face fell, leaving Lars fighting the urge to go over there and comfort him.

“I’ve been beating myself up so much over that. Is the kid okay? I swear, it’s so damn

easy to forget how fragile you mortals are.”

“Meers is fine,” Lars told him, ignoring Rochelle’s look of disgust. “He’s more

embarrassed than anything else. Uh, on account of you not being female.”

“Damn, it’s give them what they ask for, not what they really want, isn’t it? I always

get that one back to front.” Rael smiled, lighting up his whole face, and Lars couldn’t stop

himself from smiling back.

Rochelle didn’t seem to have any problem keeping her scowl on. “Thornsson, when

you’ve finished hitting on the suspect, we got us a demon to catch. You coming, or were you

just planning on getting a room?”

Lars took a deep breath, forcing his mind into focus. “Uh, gimme a minute, would

you, C?”

Rochelle’s eyes narrowed. “If this is something I don’t want to know about, you’d

better make damn sure I never find out, Thornsson.”

As she stormed out of the room, warm brown eyes looked up at Lars from beneath the

rainforest of lashes. “Is this where you offer me a deal?” That forked tongue flicked out to

wet full, dark lips, and Lars found his own mouth unexpectedly dry. “Because a man like

you? It’d be my pleasure, and you can bet your badge it’d be yours, too.”

Lars pulled himself together. “That’s just it, Rael. I would be betting my badge on it.

And in any case, I’m not that kind of cop, okay? I just... listen Rael, are you telling us the

truth about this other demon?”

“I’d offer to swear on a Bible, but I don’t think that’d be such a great idea.”

“Guess not. I hear they’re still scraping the last demon who tried that off the walls

over at the 35th. Listen, they’re gonna take you down to the cells now and lock you up so

tight Lucifer himself couldn’t get you out, but you get one call first. You got anyone to call

up here?”

Rael sighed. “Honey, last time I was up here, they were kind of more into signal

fires.”

Lars nodded and fished out a business card from his breast pocket. “Okay. You call

this guy. He’s used to dealing with your kind. Tell him Lars says hi, you got that?”

The demon blinked, looking off-balance for the first time since they’d met. “Thank

you, Lars Thornsson,” he said, sounding oddly formal. “I’ll do that.”

Not without some difficulty, both physical and libido-related, Lars tucked the card

into the pocket of Rael’s trousers. A moment ago he would have sworn there wasn’t room in

there for a fairy’s wings; the leather was stretched tight across that smooth, dark skin,

outlining every contour of that sensual body... and damn, Lars really didn’t need to be

thinking about that right now.

As he turned to go fetch a uniform to take Rael to the cells, thinking longingly of cold

showers, the demon called him back. “Detective? This girl you’re after, she’s one bad-ass

momma. Be careful, you hear?”

Ψ Ψ Ψ

By the sneering look Rael got from the uniformed cop, he was straight as the road to

hell and wouldn’t be half as much fun to go down on. “Okay, creep, let’s get your sorry

demon ass down to the cells.”

“How about my phone call?” Rael asked as they walked past the desk.

The grunt shrugged. “Go for it, Hellboy. But these phones are strictly mortal, so,” he

snickered, “if you’ve got friends in high places you want to get in touch with, you’re gonna

have to get down on your knees and do it the old-fashioned way.”

“Honey, I’ll get down on my knees and do it any way you like,” Rael murmured

automatically, but his heart wasn’t really in it.

Shuddering a little at the cop’s look of disgust, he pulled out the card with a flourish

and dialed the number.

Ψ Ψ Ψ

“Damn it, C, can’t you get anything more useful on that thing?” Lars’ gut tightened at

the thought of another guy getting sucked dry by Hell-bitch while they sat on their asses

watching bowl-o-vision.

Rochelle gave him the finger without looking up from her scrying. “Fuck you,

Thornsson. You wanna come over here and give it a go? See what you can make out of this

crock of shit?”

Lars winced at the reminder of just how magically challenged he was. “I’m sorry, C. I

know this ain’t easy.”

Remembering herself, Rochelle actually looked contrite. “My bad, Thornsson,” she

muttered.

Lars risked resting a hand on her shoulder. Damn, this case was getting to them both.

They’d been so close to busting that succubus’ ass at Mefisto’s—and they’d gotten there just

too late to do anything but pick up the pieces after she’d chewed them up and spat them out.

And then there was Rael. Something told him that in other circumstances, Rael would

be just the kind of demon Lars wouldn’t have minded getting to know a little better, but no

way in Hell was that going to happen now the guy was all mixed up with this damn case.

“Damn it, Thornsson, I got nothing.” Rochelle slumped back in her chair, looking

defeated. “Without anything to give us a link, it’s like looking for a needle in a frickin’

haystack. In Kansas.”

“Okay...” Lars thought fast. “New tactic. Our girl targets bisexuals, right? So we

check out the bi hangouts.”

“So where do we start, then? You’re the expert on this shit.”

Lars ran the clubs he knew through his head. “I know a few places.”

“So what are we waiting for? Let’s get our asses outta here!”

Lars hesitated. “You think we should take backup? Rael said she was pretty high-

grade evil.”

Rochelle looked like she was about to spit. “You gonna take the word of Hell’s own

rent boy? It’ll only slow us down, and no way am I letting her up the body count while we

ring our moms. Trust me, Thornsson, we’re going to nail this bitch’s ass to the wall.”

Ψ Ψ Ψ

“Mr. Abelard, I am so damn grateful to you for getting me out of that place.” Rael

looked at the elderly lawyer from underneath his lashes and gave the liver-spotted hand he

was shaking a little extra squeeze.

“No problem, son,” the lawyer quavered. “Any friend of Lars is a friend of mine.”

Rael had never had such an urge to confess the truth, that he’d only just met the lovely

Lars, and that at the wrong end of a gun. His momma would have been horrified.

Instead, he smiled. “He’s that kind of a guy, isn’t he? Have you known that boy

long?”

“All his life, son. Lars is practically family.” The craggy face crinkled with a rueful

smile. “His mother was my first love, you know.”

Rael blinked. Either this guy was a real late starter, or he’d done some seriously bad

shit to end up looking like he did, which was one breath short of a century and only a whisper

away from the grave.

“Oh, I know what you’re thinking, son! No, I wasn’t some Humbert Humbert type,

lusting after a pretty young thing. Lars is older than he looks—he’s fifty-seven, although he

doesn’t look half that, does he? His mother’s a Valkyrie. He gets his looks from her, you

know. His father was a senior partner at the firm I started out in. She came in for advice after

the neighbors made a complaint about her ravens, and well, I guess it was just love at first

sight for all concerned. Of course, I wasn’t the one who got to marry her, more’s the pity.”

“Oh, sugar, that’s just too bad,” Rael told him distractedly. Lars was half-immortal?

That was... interesting. Rael had heard a few things about Valkyries. They were kind of

known for their strength. And stamina, man, they had that in spades.

Rael had always regretted having to stick to one-night-stands when he was up topside.

Most humans just weren’t built for anything long-term with a succubus. And while Rael

never exactly had to worry about where his next meal was coming from, he’d always figured

it’d be kinda nice to be able to get used to home cooking, instead of eating somewhere new

every night.

Especially if it was a sweet guy like Lars providing the eats. That boy was decent,

honorable—hell, if he hadn’t just heard Lars was half Valkyrie, Rael would’ve had him

pegged for the offspring of an angel.

The mists of nostalgia cleared from the old man’s eyes. “Now, son, is there anything

else I can do for you? Do you need a place to stay?”

“Oh, honey, you are just too kind! Thanks, but I figure I’ll be able to find a bed for the

night. It’s sort of my specialty, you know? But do you think you might be able to lay those

capable hands of yours on a scrying bowl?”

He still had the card Lars had given him, and one precious blond hair that had fallen

on his shoulder as Lars had slipped the card into his pocket. It ought to be enough.

Ψ Ψ Ψ

As they walked in the door of the third club on Lars’ list, Rochelle sucked in a breath.

“Looks like we hit pay dirt. Hell-bitch at twelve o’clock, and damn, she’s one mean mother.

Xena with a bad dye-job—looks like Hell-slut was on the level.”

Lars forced down his annoyance and tried to focus on the suspect—which as it

happened wasn’t hard; she kind of drew your gaze, with that tall, hourglass figure and a

cascade of auburn hair falling over her shoulders like molten copper. She was sashaying

toward the rear of the club, an arm around a weedy little guy who gazed up at her like she

was a candy bar and he thought he was the one who’d be getting to do the eating.

“Okay. Looks like we need to move fast. She’s heading out the back, so I’ll cut

around outside—it’ll be quicker than trying to force a way through this crowd. You move in

from here in case she doubles back.”

“Gotcha. That soul-sucking succubus is history.” Rochelle moved forward and in

seconds her five-foot-nothing form was lost in the seething throng.

Envying his partner her total indifference to their perp, Lars ducked out quickly and

raced around the building to the alley at the rear. It only took him a minute, but there she was

already in all her evil glory, holding the guy pinned against the wall, lips working like she

was trying to suck out his lungs with her kiss.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Lars began way too politely.

Hell-bitch dropped the pickup and spun around, with a snarl. The weedy guy started

to complain then took one look at Lars and backed away into the night.

Her eyes flashing, the succubus smiled.

Lars’ mouth went dry. Hell, his whole alimentary system went drier than the skin-

covered bones she’d left behind in that back street by Mefisto’s. Normally, Lars preferred

guys, but this gal... there was just something about her, about the way she wiggled those

impossibly full hips below that tiny waist, the way she licked those red, red lips. And since

when had forked tongues suddenly started giving Lars the mother of all hard-ons? This was

just like with Rael...

Rael. Lars’ brain snapped back into focus. There was a murdering succubus standing

in front of him, not the sweet little demon who’d been on Lars’ mind since the moment

they’d met. And hot damn, speak of the devil... Rael appeared in Lars’ field of vision, his

pretty face all twisted with demonic fury. It was kind of cute.

“Back off, Hell-bitch, this one’s mine!” Rael growled low in his throat.

She laughed. Lars was ready to punch her out just for that.

“Yours, little imp?” she purred, laying on the arrogance so thick you could slice it and

package it. “He came to me; he is mine to do with as I wish, just like all the rest of his

worthless, fickle kind.”

“You know, honey, the Church has kinda cornered the homophobia market already,”

Rael reproached her.

The demon tossed her head. “I care nothing if a man prefers his own sex. It is this

kind, the ones who claim to be one thing when they are another, who can’t make up their

minds, who pretend love for a woman and then leave her for a man...” It had started off

arrogant, but by the time she trailed off at the end, she was just sounding like any other girl

who’d found out the hard way that guys could be assholes.

“Sounds to me, sugar, like you’re talking about someone you know.” Rael cocked his

head to one side.

Hell-bitch didn’t answer, just stood there with her lips pressed together and her head

bowed.

Rael sighed. “Oh, honey. Some big bad bi guy done you wrong?”

There was a loud sniff. Lars stared. Hell-bitch was crying now—big, fat, yellow drops

that hissed as they hit her cheeks and smelled of brimstone.

“Honey, those guys aren’t worth it,” Rael said, reaching out to her. “I know you’re

hurting, but you can’t take out every man who looks both ways, you know?”

“What would you know, imp?” She was struggling for aloof, Lars could tell, but it

came out plaintive.

“You think I’ve never been burned?”

Lars blinked. All this sex-demon mojo had to be affecting his brain. Rael had perched

himself on a trash can and put his arm around the serial-killing succubus, offering her a

handkerchief. She accepted with haughty thanks and sniffled into it piteously.

Rael was still talking away to her like they were girlfriends or something. “Listen,

sugar, I had this thing going with an envy demon, you know? He had the cutest green eyes

you ever saw... I thought it was for keeps, thought we’d be picking out drapes for our own

little corner of Hell, the works. Then one day I come home and I find him making it with a

tree sprite!” For a moment his mouth set in an angry line, and Lars got a sudden urge to start

a forest fire. “You’ll bounce back, sugar. You’re way better than him, you hear me?”

Hell-bitch was nodding.

“You know what you should do, honey?” Rael continued. “Get yourself back home,

summon up a few of the girls and go have yourself a damn good time, you hear me?”

The succubus stood up, dwarfing her comforter and putting Lars back on edge. He

wondered if he should go for his gun, or maybe a Bible. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw

Rochelle creeping out of the club’s back door, gun in hand...

Hell-bitch didn’t even look at her, just waved a hand. Rochelle flew through the air

and landed with a thud against the wall. She stuck there, pinned by an invisible force, cursing

and wriggling like a fly caught in a spider’s web. Lars flinched and stopped reaching for his

piece.

“You are right, imp,” the demon said, tossing her hair with a touch of her old

arrogance. “This place is not worthy of me. I shall go.” She hesitated a moment. “You have

been of service to me. Would you like me to eviscerate this human for you before I go?”

Lars quailed as red-rimmed—and now, he noticed with disquiet, red-irised—eyes

looked directly at him. “Uh...”

“Oh, honey, that’s so damn sweet of you! But I don’t figure he’d taste so good after

that, you know?”

“As you wish.” She shrugged, and with a foul stench of sulfur, was gone.

Lars blinked and coughed. “What the hell? How did she do that? I didn’t banish

her...”

Rael gave him a pitying look. “Honey, she’s a ninth-circle demon. She goes where

she wants to.”

Ninth circle? No wonder she’d swatted Rochelle like a fly. “So is she gone for good,

or are we going to be doing this again next week?” Because if so, Lars figured he had some

leave coming up.

Rael considered. “I figure you’re good for a couple decades, at least. After that, who

knows?”

As the demon’s binding belatedly failed, Rochelle slid abruptly down the wall and

landed on her ass. “Ninth circle? Ninth frickin’ circle? You fucking with me, Hellboy? Ninth

frickin’ circle?”

Lars was relieved to note he wasn’t the only one about to start hyperventilating here.

“Uh, yeah, C. Guess maybe we shoulda waited for backup after all.”

That snapped her right out of it. “Fuck that, Thornsson! We sent that demon packing

all on our own, didn’t we?”

Lars considered pointing out just whose ass got nailed to which wall, but Rochelle’s

trigger finger was still looking kind of jumpy, so he figured this would be as good a time as

any to start practicing a little tact.

Ψ Ψ Ψ

Rael wondered what was going to happen to him now they’d gotten rid of the bad

guy. He was kind of hoping DI Rochelle wasn’t planning on hitting him with that banishing

spell she’d had all ready for Hell-bitch. He edged a little closer to the big, blond guy.

“Uh, Rael? I guess I owe you for saving my ass there,” Lars told him, still looking

kinda dazed and cute as all get out.

“Honey, no way was I gonna let anything bad happen to an ass like that,” Rael purred,

looking him straight in the eye. Lars flushed, which Rael figured had to be a good sign.

“I guess you probably ought to stick around until we’re certain Meers isn’t going to

file charges, but I kind of think he’s just going to want to drop it. So, uh, you need a ride

anywhere?”

Rael fixed his hunky, half-immortal detective with his best come-hither-and-fuck-me

look. “Depends who’s doing the riding, sugar.”

The partner made gagging noises. “If I barf, just ignore me, okay? Screw it,

Thornsson, I’ll ride the subway home. You go and... fuck, Thornsson, I don’t want to know

what you’ll be doing. I’ll see you tomorrow. And don’t even think about blowing me off for

Hell-slut here and leaving me all the fucking paperwork.”

It was kind of impressive. Even the damned on their way to eternal torment didn’t

look half as pissed as DI Rochelle when she had a snit on.

Lars turned back to Rael, and swallowed. “So, uh....” Damn, the guy was cute when

he was flustered.

“You know, honey, you look real hungry,” Rael told him, letting his concern shine

through. “So why don’t we find us someplace you can get yourself a meal?”

“Uh, sure. Can you actually, you know...?”

Rael gave him a wicked grin. “I’ll eat later.”

Ψ Ψ Ψ

“You sure this isn’t going to be too boring for you, just sitting there watching me

eat?” Lars asked. They’d slipped into a booth in a steak house downtown with funky decor

and the lights down low and intimate. Candles glowed from every table, and their waitress

had pointy little ears and a tail poking out from under her skirt. Rael felt right at home.

He smiled at Lars. Hot, half-immortal, and solicitous, too. He’d gotten himself a

keeper here, right enough. “Sugar, I love watching a man indulge his appetites. Gets me right

in the mood to indulge mine.”

Lars gave a weird-ass sort of half-laugh that made the candle flame flicker and dance.

“Are you ever not in the mood?”

“When I’m with you? Never.” Rael flashed his wickedest smile. “That partner of

yours, on the other hand...”

Lars winced. It was cute as all get out. “Uh, if you keep bringing C into this, you’re

going to bed hungry tonight.”

“You’d do that to me?” Rael pouted.

“Baby, I don’t think I could tell you no even if I wanted to,” Lars said. His face broke

into the sweetest damn smile Rael had ever seen as the waitress served his appetizer.

Watching Lars thank her politely and get to work on those bacon-wrapped scallops,

Rael felt his heart melt faster than butter on a griddle. “You know, I just love me some good

old-fashioned manners,” he purred.

Lars grinned. “You get brought up by a Valkyrie, you soon learn not to risk getting

your ass whupped for speaking out of turn.” He wolfed down another couple of scallops as

Rael looked on happily. “Have you got family, Rael?”

“Oh, it’s just been me and my momma for a while now.”

“Same here. I keep thinking maybe she’ll find herself another guy, but it seems like

after my dad died, that was it for her.”

Lars looked kind of wistful, so Rael reached across the table to take a hold of his free

hand. “I guess that’s what we all dream about—finding that one guy who’s going to go the

distance.” And damn if he didn’t think he might have done just that.

“I wouldn’t have thought settling down would be in your job description,” Lars said

slowly, his gaze locked onto Rael like he was trying to see right into his soul.

Rael was only too happy to answer the question in those big, blue eyes. “Honey, I

write my own damn job description. And I got a whole new clause about hunky blond

detectives coming on.”

“So you’re, uh, not in any hurry to head back home?”

Rael smiled. “Hey, I only just got here. I figure I should stick around for a little while.

A century, say, or maybe two. Give me time to see the sights.” He let his voice drop a

There was a clatter as Lars’ fork dropped to the floor. “Uh, we don’t have to stay here

—”

“Yes, we do,” Rael chided him fondly. He leaned back in his seat and reined in his

mojo to allow Lars to regain a little perspective on things. “That nice young lady’s just

coming over with your entree. And believe me, you’re going to want to keep your strength

up.”

Ten minutes and around half a cow later, Lars forked up a final mouthful of baked

potato and sour cream. “Damn, this is good.”

“Is it as good as that double cut filet you just got outside of?” Rael asked dreamily.

He’d decided watching Lars eat was his new favorite pastime.

Although he was kind of hoping it’d be knocked into second place sometime real

soon.

Lars’ tongue sneaked out to lick a smear of sour cream from his lip, and Rael could

have wept. Damn it, that was his job. “Better,” Lars said with a smile that made Rael wonder

for a moment just which of them was the sex demon here.

He arched an eyebrow and leaned forward into the candle light. “Is it as good as a

certain succubus you’re going to be getting inside of when I get you out of here?” he purred.

Lars blinked, swallowed, and put down his fork. Then he waved to the waitress. “Uh,

miss, can we get the check? I’m done here.”

“Done? Not yet, sugar. But you will be,” Rael promised fervently.

Ψ Ψ Ψ

Rael kept his arm wrapped right around his man as far as it would go as they stumbled

into Lars’ apartment. The ride home in Lars’ car had gotten real frustrating, real fast, and he

was itching to end the torture.

“You, uh, want a coffee or something?” Lars asked huskily, his fingers fumbling as he

started to unbutton his shirt.

“There’s only one thing I want to pass my lips, and I’m looking right at him,” Rael

breathed. He moved in to help Lars undo his belt, his gaze fixed on his lover’s face all the

while. “Sugar, I’ve been starving for a taste of you all night.”

“C’mon,” Lars said with a tender smile, “Bedroom’s this-a-way.”

“You sure we’re going to make it that far?” Rael shimmied out of his shirt and his

leather trousers right there in the hallway, his heart humming a happy little ditty that he

wiggled his hips in time to. Then he noticed the direction of his Norse godling’s stare, and his

own personal sun ducked right behind a big old cloud.

“Shit, is this going to be a deal-breaker?” he asked, feeling a whole-body droop

coming on.

“Uh...” Lars cleared his throat. “No. Really, really... no.” He swallowed. “How do

you even fit that thing inside trousers that tight?”

Rael smiled. “Magic, honey. And one hell of a lot of talcum powder.”

“Can... can I touch it?”

There was a yearning in those baby blues a dead man couldn’t have missed. The sun

came right out from behind the clouds and started dancing like a dervish. Rael managed to

resist the urge to clap along to the beat.

“Sure thing, sugar,” he purred. “You know, it’s been kinda jonesin’ to touch you.”

Rael stepped forward, and with Lars’ eyes upon it every inch of the way, his tail

snaked out from behind him to caress that beautiful man’s chest, the point at the end just

flicking at Lars’ nipples like it wanted to see if they’d come out to play.

Lars groaned. “Do you...” he took a deep breath. “Do you ever, uh, do yourself with

it?”

“Well, we wouldn’t want it to drop off from lack of use.”

His big, blond hunk of manhood nearly sobbed at that.

“Sugar, you can not be comfortable in those pants,” Rael said. “We gotta do

something about that, before Lars junior busts right through the zipper.”

His tail whipped off of Lars’ chest and wrapped itself around that broad back, pulling

Lars in real close to Rael, where he belonged.

“Guh,” moaned Lars.

“Honey, you are so right,” Rael breathed into Lars’ throat. He let his tongue flicker

over Lars’ pulse point, tasting the heat rising off of that perfect skin like hellfire.

Flying higher than a kite up on cloud number nine, Rael started to unbutton Lars’

jeans, and damn if his fingers weren’t shaking just a little.

“Honey, you are one hell of a man, you know that?” he murmured as he pushed the

jeans down over thick, muscled thighs, leaving Lars in nothing but his tightey-whiteys. There

was a wet spot right where they were pushed out the fullest, and Rael figured he’d just die if

he didn’t get him a taste of that. Since he was kinda hoping Lars would want him to stay on

this plane for a good long while, he slid to his knees, peeled away those briefs and opened his

mouth wide to take in that heavenly hunk of meat just as far as it would go.

The heady scent of musk had Rael’s mind whirling off to dance with the fairies, only

the rich burst of saltiness on his tongue anchoring him back to earth. Lars fit in Rael’s mouth

like he’d been made to measure. Damn, this boy was going to ruin him for anyone else, and

Rael didn’t mind one little bit.

Lars gave a long, low groan that rumbled right through them both. “Jeez, Rael, you’re

gonna kill me!”

Rael pulled his mouth off long enough to answer. “But wouldn’t you die happy?”

“Nope,” Lars croaked.

Rael looked up at him reproachfully.

“Want you... want it all,” Lars muttered hoarsely. “Then I can die happy.”

“Then, honey, we gotta give you it all,” Rael purred. He slithered back up from his

knees, a little slower than he might have done on account of his tongue insisting it get to taste

every inch of Lars along the way. His big old lover seemed to whimper a little at that, so Rael

closed that poor mouth with a kiss, twining his tongue around Lars’ until he felt those knees

begin to tremble.

“You want to take this someplace more horizontal?” he breathed into Lars’ mouth.

Lars just moaned. Rael figured that was a yes.

They stumbled into Lars’ bedroom, and Rael found he liked it just fine. Not too small,

not too tidy... and a really big bed. Rael spun them around and let Lars push him down onto

the covers. His cock was so hard it was damn near torture.

“Sugar, you gotta fuck me, you know that?” he moaned. His tail snuck right in

between them to add its two cents to the argument. One day soon, he was going to jack Lars

off with his tail, Rael decided. But right now, he had needs of his own.

Lars gave Rael a long, hard stare, the yearning coming off of him in waves, then

turned aside to scrabble in a bedside drawer, bringing out a tube of lube and a couple foil

packets.

“Sugar,” Rael told him fondly, “now what kind of a succubus would I be if I needed

either of those?”

His beautiful man just whimpered again.

“Oh, honey, you sure need looking after, don’t you?” Rael hitched up his legs with

both hands. “Let Rael look after you.”

With some strange kind of noise like he was in pain, almost, Lars launched himself

upon Rael, his cock—and oh, man, what a cock—pressing hard against Rael’s opening like it

was just busting to get in.

“Honey, if you don’t give it to me now I will die, you know that?” Rael breathed, and

with a moan, Lars pushed inside.

Oh, that was sweet. Rael felt his whole damn body quiver. That was more than sweet.

That was the real deal, the full-fat, high-sugar, mega caffeine works with chocolate sprinkles

on the top. “Lars, honey...” Rael had never had a lover who’d left him speechless before. He

let his tail curl around their bodies and stroke Lars on that rock-hard ass.

Lars shuddered. “Rael, baby, damn...” He was thrusting in and out of Rael now, every

movement bringing waves of sweet delight.

“Oh, honey, ain’t nobody like you,” Rael breathed, as that pistoning cock brought him

higher and higher. Sweat was dripping off of Lars’ forehead and into Rael’s mouth and damn,

it was sweeter than wine.

Rael gave that fine ass one last caress with his tail before snaking it around between

them and letting it slip into his mouth, in and out, fucking it like that huge slab of meat was

doing to his ass.

“Baby, you’re killing me...” Lars panted.

Rael let his tail slip out of his mouth with a pop, all wet and slick with his spit, and it

flicked back behind his lover. Somehow it knew just where to go.

Lars moaned as it circled his entrance. Man, Rael loved that sound. “You want me,

sugar?” he breathed.

Lars didn’t seem capable of giving him an answer, so Rael just figured he’d do what

felt good. Arching his back, he plunged the tip of his tail right up inside his lover.

Lars screamed and came, pumping Rael full of hot, sweet juice. Rael lost all control,

shaking and shuddering and crying as his own release pulsed out between them.

“Oh, honey...”

“Rael, baby...”

They collapsed down together, huffing and panting. Rael couldn’t hardly hold a

thought together, but one thing he knew: he was spoiled for anyone else now. He’d never had

a lover who’d even come close to leaving him so wonderfully, gloriously sated.

“Honey, you ain’t the only one who’s gonna die happy,” he breathed into his lover’s

ear.

Lars stirred. “No. No way. You are not going to die and leave me now you’ve shown

me just how damn good it can be with you. Hell, do I have to handcuff you to the bed to keep

you here?”

Rael smiled like he was fixing to split his whole damn face in two. “No way in

Heaven am I running out on you, lover.” He managed to squeeze a whisker or so closer to

Lars’ beautiful body. “But if you want to try the handcuffs, Officer, I promise I won’t resist

arrest.”

The End

Read more about Rael and Lars in A Blast from the Past and A Wish Too Far,

available now from Torquere Press, on Kindle and from all good ebook distributors.

A Blast from the Past

Detectives Lars Thornsson and Chelle Rochelle of the Paranormal Enforcement

Agency have a new case: someone or something demonic is starting fires all over town.

Meanwhile Lars’ succubus lover Rael has problems of his own: his cheating ex has turned up

and wants him back. And he won’t take no for an answer.

A Wish Too Far

There's a new drug on the streets called Wishes, little pink pills that bring you your

heart's desire – but in a way that'll rival your worst nightmares. Lars Thornsson and Chelle

Rochelle of the Paranormal Enforcement Agency aren't pleased to be ordered to work on the

case with two of their most hated colleagues.

Arriving home one night to find Rael's been summoning another demon, a jealous

Lars is even less happy. But Rael thinks he knows who's supplying the drugs, and he's

determined to get to his old friend Shax before the law can.

JL MERROW is that rare beast: an English person who refuses to drink tea. Having

grown up by the seaside, she also loathes fish and chips. She read Natural Sciences at

Cambridge, where she learned many things, chief amongst which was that she never wanted

to see the inside of a lab ever again. Her one regret is that she never mastered the ability of

punting one-handed whilst holding a glass of champagne.

She writes across genres, with a preference for contemporaries and the paranormal,

and is frequently accused of humour.

Website (including free reads section):

http://www.jlmerrow.com/index.html

Some of JL Merrow's other books:

Pricks and Pragmatism

Camwolf

Sex, Lies and Edelweiss

Muscling Through

Wight Mischief

Snared

Tortoise Interruptus

Dulce et Decorum Est

A Ghoul Like You

Stroke to His Cox