Page 23 of Obsession

“This is Tiffany,” he says with an easy smile. He turns to his date. “Love, why don’t you go find us a drink?” Zazel turns his easy smile into a sexy smile, and Tiffany scurries away.

“Forgive me, I can’t keep track,” Nora says stiffly. Zazel seems amused at the obvious dig, unruffled in the least.

The doorbell rings, and I excuse myself. I’m surprised to find Chris at the door; honestly, I wasn’t sure he’d show. “Chris, nice to see you again. I’m glad you could make it,” I say, leading him inside. He’s dressed in a snug black T-shirt that showcases his muscles, black jeans, and black boots. Spying the edge of a tattoo peeking out from beneath his right sleeve, it wouldn’t surprise me if Not Your Concern is written in Latin. The thought makes me snort.

“Problem?”

“Just wondering what an angel like you has tattooed on your arm.”

“Not your concern,” he says and I laugh out loud. He looks at me like I might be deranged. Well, I might be, but you survive demonic possession and tell me if you aren’t just a tiny bit deranged.

“You realize this is a housewarming party and not a funeral?” I ask, eyeing his clothes.

“Keep it up and it might be yours.”

“I know you’re not from the south, so I’ll cut you some slack this time, but typically we don’t threaten death to the party hostess,” I inform him, hoping to the Goddess that was his attempt at humor.

“Aubry, aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend? I’d heard a rumor a Dominions Angel was policing Memphis. What an honor to host a heavenly dignitary in our midst,” Zazel calls from the living room with a mocking smile. “Don’t tell me there’s an angel not toeing the line. Heaven forbid,” he says with laughter in his eyes.

“And I see we have the dishonor of hosting a hellish dignitary in our midst. Tell me Arbitrator, are you still trying to impose law on the lawless?” Chris counters as we join the party.

Zazel gives a carefree laugh, a beautiful, melodic sound. “We have no need to impose archaic law on our own kind. Only mindless sheep need to be guided by a shepherd. If you’ll excuse me, I simply must try a Fallen Angel,” he says, finding his date.

Damion appears beside me and wraps a possessive arm around my waist. “Chris Sullivan, this is my boyfriend, Damion Blackmon. You two haven’t officially met.” I introduce them.

The two viciously shake hands, a sort of male pissing contest. “I wonder what angelic business would bring a Dominions to a she-demon’s party,” Damion muses.

“My business is not your business, Cambion. Shouldn’t you be busy possessing unsuspecting women?”

“Okay, so that happened one time,” I gripe.

“I’m putting you on notice that anything concerning Aubry is my business,” Damion says with a smile, his beautiful aquamarine-colored eyes glowing with power.

Chris’s skin starts to shimmer, like light refracting from a window.

“Chris, what a pleasant surprise,” Sonia purrs, joining us. “I’d be more than happy to give you a private tour of my new home. The master bedroom is rather cozy,” she says in a tone that would make most men drool. Her eyes glow and she continues, “I have a king-sized bed. It’s large enough to accommodate all sorts of activities. And the master bath has a shower with rain jets and a handy bench seat.”

Chris appears unfazed. “Succubus, when are you going to learn your little bedroom magic doesn’t work on me?”

I fear this may turn ugly, but Sonia’s eyes return to their beautiful shade of chocolate-brown. “Just offering a tour, Choirboy. No need to be so prickly.” She gives him a seductive smile and swishes her hips over to grab a cocktail.

Grandma walks by and winks at me.

Chapter 11

Today’s Litha, and I’ve decided to meet Lucy and her coven. I want to learn more about my mama. Plus, I received a vision of a bonfire, and then I’m invited to a bonfire. How could I not go? I’m just not sure how Grandma is going to feel about it.

There’s no good way to broach the subject, so I just jump right in. “Grandma, I met Lucy Parks the other day.”

“Oh?” she answers, her poker face giving nothing away.

“Lucy was the high priestess of Mama’s coven,” I continue. “She’s invited me to her new coven’s Litha celebration, and I’m going.”

She pauses for a moment and then surprises me by saying, “Sugar pie, that’s fine.”

“Really?”

“You’re a grown woman, and you make your own decisions. Plus, you’re as stubborn as a mule—if I try to talk you out of it, you’ll just be more determined to go.”

---