Adjusting to the demands of Michel, Demon Lord of the nine levels of Hel, isn’t easy. Drue’s keeper and erstwhile lover, the Demon assassin Jefrumael, is tasked with riding herd on the Lord’s recalcitrant offspring. It’s enough to test anyone’s patience, and Jefrumael is anything but…
From The Strigoi Chronicles: Michel
Jef drove with a casual contempt for rules of the road, if Ukraine actually had any, and the jury was still out on that one.
Add to that an insane disregard for logic…
“Why are we driving?” It was a reasonable question, and I wasn’t implying that maybe public transportation and unwashed masses, pigs, chickens…
Oh wait, that was in Bogotá.
The question remained, the real one…
“Why don’t we just poof there?”
“It doesn’t work that way, Dreu.” My demon lover said it in that be kind to dumb animals and ex-monks tone of voice that I’d gotten used to, but just barely. His luscious lips quirked and he turned away to glance in the side view mirror, at what was a mystery, seeing how I was still a novice when it came to all things automotive.
Speaking of… My belly growled in a vamp way, recalling the quickie in the parking lot, me up against a pole, splinters. That had satisfied one kind of hunger, but there were others.
Others, as in … Dreu, do you love me? I’d said maybe. Nine hundred years and counting and the best I could do was damned if I know? Blonde curls bouncing to a tune only my favorite assassin heard, a body made for sin, a soul that touched me when it shouldn’t have, igniting cravings and tripping warning claxons … such was my conflicted, misguided, totally fucked four ways from Sunday emotional center.
Jef muttered, “Hope he isn’t pissed.”
For once I was tuned in enough to my companion to at least be aware of the reference. He being mine Papá, the man in Armani, the one who had a hard on for all things contemporary, moderne … the ultimate Euro-trasher. The Demon King of the Nine Realms of watch-your-ass probably wasn’t amused at our knocking out power to the entire district after that little stunt.
I grinned and Jef looked over at me, his face carefully blank. I said, “They’ll fix it.”
“It’s Ukraine, lover. That might take a decade or two.”
“Sooo, you also managed to knock out the main substation for level one.”
Oops, I really needed GPS to figure out where—when-ish maybe?—these stupid access points to topside intersected with Demon Central. When it came to having a clue my demon half separated from the charming Vampyr, leaving a gap in my twisted psyche that only something carnal could fill.
“Which reminds me…” Grin turned to full on smirk. “Can we pull over?”
“Why, do you have to pee?”
My assassin stared straight ahead, eyes scanning the road and the steep drop-off to our right. Amusement tottered on the edge of annoyed. I liked annoyed, it broke beds, and other things. It also could land my modest five-nine on a graveled beach that would make the discomfort of a few splinters seem like a pleasant interlude.
Crossing my arms, going petulant, I gave Jefrumael a pout and an excuse. “For your information, I wasn’t the one riding that dead tree to the ground and taking out the entire service line.”
The blond giant pondered that for a tick, then said, “If memory serves, sire, you are the one with splinters in your ass, not me.”
Grumbling, “That wasn’t the only thing in my ass,” I was gratified to see interest blossom, my demon going from zero to cocked at the speed of Dreu.