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TWENTY-NINE
No. He'd never spoken to Carline, let alone touched her. He'd never have hurt her. Never. He'd intended to steal her to keep her safe.
Then what had he done to earn a place in hell?
Why couldn't he remember? Was it because he'd done something horrible, something that would justify the fear he'd seen in Alethia's eyes when she asked him what he'd done? He was her protector, just as he'd wanted to be Carline's. He would never have done something so terrible...
Yet here he was, a demon.
Stan was hardly aware of stepping through the wall until he stepped out of it again, into the next apartment. The Chinese woman who lived there had her back to him as she watched TV from her couch, the noise from the program drowning out any sound he made, but if she turned around...Stan slipped back inside the wall, his mind still whirling with thoughts he didn't want to have.
He couldn't have. He wouldn't. He'd never...
But the memories of that night didn't get any clearer.
Finally, he blew out a breath. Whatever had happened that night, he couldn't change it. Carline had killed him, and all he could do now was be the best protector possible, in the hope he might be able to claw his way out of hell. But to do that, he needed Alethia to trust him, not fear him.
Stan burst out of the wall. Alethia was still sitting at the dining table, where he'd left her, though the pizza on her plate was gone.
He dropped to his knees beside her, seizing her hand in both of his.
He thanked each and every deity in the universe that she didn't pull away, though her eyes widened in surprise. Surprise, not fear, he told himself, even if he didn't entirely believe it.
"Alethia, I swear to you, my sole purpose here is to protect you. Whatever I may have done in the past to earn my place in hell, it is nothing compared to what I will do to anyone who threatens you. I never touched Carline, nor did I do anything to hurt her. I only wish I knew why she killed me. You're the only person who can help me find out, and I beg you not to give up on me. I will protect you, just as I promised, if you will only allow me to do so."
Her eyes narrowed. "There's something you're not telling me, isn't there? I summoned you, which means there must be a way for me to dismiss you. To send you back to hell, if I no longer need you."
He hadn't known it before, but something inside him knew her words to be true. He bowed low over her hand, so low he could see the floor tiles between her fingers. "Please don't send me back. I need this chance to redeem myself. To show...to show that I'm not entirely damned. That I can protect you, just like I promised to. Please, Alethia, my mistress, I beg you. I will do anything you ask."
"Stan." She tugged on her hand, trying to free it from his grasp.
He didn't dare let go. "Please," he begged.
"Stan." It sounded more urgent now, as she tugged harder. "Will you get up off the floor, please?"
Only now did he realise she wasn't trying to pull her hand free, but to pull him up.
Tears streaked her cheeks, but she was smiling. "I'm not sure I'd ever be mean enough to want to send someone to hell, let alone you, after all you've done for me. I've known you for less than a day, and I could totally see me getting used to having you around. I think this is the first day I haven't gone completely stir-crazy, stuck in this apartment alone, since the pandemic started. Now that's all on you. In fact, if it was up to me, I'd be happy to have you stay with me for as long as you'd like. No going back to hell at all." She fixed him in her gaze, and he could feel the but hovering on the tip of her tongue. "But you need to promise me that you will protect me, and that as long as you're around, I won't be in any danger from you."
Stan's heart bloomed within his chest, almost like it was still beating, which he knew it wasn't. Alethia was the sweetest, kindest woman he'd ever met. Not to mention her beauty rivalled Carline's...
He took her in, from the graceful turn of her ankle, up her shapely leg, so clearly outlined in her tight trousers, to the swell of her hips, curving all the way up to a pair of divine breasts big enough to spill out of his hands if he were ever blessed enough to hold them. Her lips, slightly parted beneath wide, questioning eyes, as if poised to bestow a forbidden kiss...
He'd give her a thousand kisses, if she only asked for them.
And in that moment, he knew the sin that had sent him to hell. It was lust, pure and simple. He'd lusted after Carline from the moment he first saw her. Dreamed of her in his bed, or he in hers, claiming her for his own.
Alethia, twin to Carline though two centuries separated them, aroused his lust every bit as much as Carline had. More, maybe, for he'd touched Alethia, and every moment she was in his arms, the greater the temptation grew to caress her like a lover.
To steal her for his bride, as he'd hoped to steal Carline.
But he would not give in to temptation this time, Stan told himself. He would be a paragon of virtue, instead of a lust-filled demon, and that was how he'd earn redemption. By protecting Alethia from everyone else...as well as himself.
"Stan? Answer me, please. Am I in danger with you?"
As unquenchable lust burned through his body, Stan stared up into her trusting eyes. "No," he lied.
