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“Because I’m a demon.”
“I don’t care.” It’s completely honest. All I see is the man and I want him.
His eyes get a faraway look and a frown pulls at his beautiful lips.
“Mantus?”
He snaps out of his daze.
“Where were you?” My pulse is racing.
Lifting Pumpkin gently, he puts her on the floor and turns to face me. He takes my coffee out of my hand and places the cup on the coffee table. “When a purgatorian is on the move, I can feel them. I’ve tried to ignore it since I met you, but the drive to get to Jorge is stronger now. As I said, I don’t have free will.”
“You have to go.” Even though nothing has changed since he first told me he had to go to work, I feel more relaxed and less like he’s abandoning me.
He presses his lips to mine and when I open for him, he devours my mouth in an earthshaking kiss. On a growl, he breaks the kiss. “I will call you.” He kisses my forehead, then gets up. At my front door, he looks back with so much affection, I may cry again.
A moment later, he’s out the door.
I pick up my coffee cup and sip as Pumpkin settles on my lap.
* * *
On Wednesday, I meet Rachel for breakfast before we head back to my home office.
She’s scrolling through her phone while I drive. “I heard from the Romano wedding’s mother. She wants blue flowers to match the bridesmaids' gowns.”
“What did you tell her?” I love my job, but matching a natural flower to an existing dress is not something I enjoy trying to do, especially when it’s not a color that flowers come in.
“I told her that God didn’t make flowers in that color, but we can make a beautiful white centerpiece with tule died blue to match.” She makes a note. “I’ve already called for a color match at the florist and it’s no problem.”
“Great job.” I pull into my driveway.
“Did you leave your front door open?” Rachel’s voice is sharp.
“No.” I’m sure I locked the door, but it’s wide open.
“I’ve got emergency queued up.” She grabs her purse and holds her phone ready as if it’s a weapon.
We ease up front, and I pull open the screen door.
Rachel mutters, “Who the fuck…”
Sitting on my kitchen island is a woman with the most stunning full figure I’ve ever seen. She’s wearing a diaphanous gown that barely covers any of her attributes. Her red hair flows in wild curls around her face. With smoky eyeshadow and long lashes, she looks as if she’s been to a makeup artist.
Pumpkin is hunched up on the back of the couch, hissing at her.
She hisses back, then dips a spoon in my jar of peanut butter and licks it off, leaving ruby red lipstick on the metal. “I thought you’d never get home.”
“Who are you?” It comes out like one word, because I’m too stunned to be very coherent.
Putting the peanut butter down with the spoon sticking out, she slides onto her hip exposing even more of her large breasts. “I’m Kikia.”
“Am I supposed to know who you are based on that?” I put my purse, keys, and phone on the table near the door.
“Should I call the police?” Rachel’s finger hovers over the Call button on her phone.
“Maybe.” I step closer to the kitchen. “Kikia, what are you doing in my house and how did you get in?’
