Rapture (Fallen Angels #4)(115)
Author: J.R. Ward

Instead, that f**ker had chosen badly. And for crissakes, who could have guessed that? The sorry bastard had been a good boy for so long, his penchant for calculated violence such an example to others. Then at the last minute, he pussied out? Because of a chick?

What. The. Fuck.

And the worst thing? Devina hadn’t been able to do a thing about it: She had gone to the final scene, concerned by his gesture to that reporter, ready to interject herself at the most critical juncture—only to find Nigel standing guard like some kind of morally justified mastiff.

There had been no way to get at the situation with that archangel in the cocksucking bushes. And Jim, damn him to hell, was continuing to betray her with the way he was influencing these souls.

At this rate, she was going to lose—

Devina lifted her head, a shot of energy ringing her internal bell.

Jim, she thought.

Uh-huh, yeah, right, she was letting him down here. The last thing she was in the mood for was him parading his win around.

Ignoring the signaling, she stayed where she was, even her OCD symptoms held at bay by a crushing sense of defeat.

What was she going to do—

“Oh, for f**k’s sake.” She glared up at the distant circle of gloom at the very top of her well. “Will you give it a rest, Heron? I don’t want to see you.”

The signal only got louder, more insistent.

Maybe something was wrong?

How fun would that be.

Abruptly, she changed into her suit of flesh, the one that he had so enjoyed ejaculating into the other evening. Her hair was perfect, as always, but she checked it with her hands anyway.

Staying right where she was, she allowed him entrance, his presence electrifying her the moment he got in range and appeared in his physical form.

Interesting…there was no triumph in his face, no ha-ha!, no macho swagger thanks to his victory.

He stood before her, unbowed, but not shitting on her parade, either.

Devina narrowed her eyes. “You haven’t come to gloat?”

“I wouldn’t waste my time on that.”

No, he probably wouldn’t. She would have, though—guess that part of him took after Nigel’s side.

“So why are you here?” She hopped off the table and walked in a slow circle around him. “I’m not in the mood to f**k.”

“Neither am I.”

“So…?”

“I’m here to strike a deal.”

She laughed in his face—considered spitting in it, too, for that matter. “We’ve done that once already, and in case you haven’t forgotten, you didn’t keep your side of the bargain.”

“I will now.”

“How do I know that—and who says I’m interested.”

“You’re interested.”

She stopped in front of the table and put her hand on it in an effort to remind him of how she’d had him there. “I doubt it.”

The angel brought his arm out from behind his back, and in his hand, on a short pole…was a victory flag.

Devina’s brows lifted. “Taken up sewing, have you.”

He waved the thing idly. “I have something you need. You have something I want.”

The demon stopped breathing—even though she didn’t require the inhale/exhale thing to survive. Was he actually suggesting…he would give her one of his wins?

Well, it was in the rules, she thought. At least technically. That victory was his property…and she supposed that he could assign it to her, if he so chose.

“Does Nigel know what you’re doing?” she said softly.

“I’m not talking about him. This is between you and me.”

Ah, so the archangel had thrown a fit—or didn’t know yet.

And if this worked, it would make the score two to two, instead of one to three. Whole different ball game.

The demon started to smile. “Tell me, my love…just what is it you want?”

Even though she knew.

Well, well, well, wasn’t the game really going to get interesting now. And it looked as if her therapist had been right: It was possible, with enough exposure, to rewire one’s brain—or somebody else’s—to produce a given reaction.

All that hair color might have been worth it.

Just like the L’Oréal ad said.

Devina slinked her way over to her lover, her sex blooming in the tense quiet. “Tell me, Jim, and I’ll think about it. But I would like to hear you say the words.”

It was a while before he answered her.

And then he spoke, loud and clear. “I want Sissy.”

Epilogue

Three weeks later…

“Are you ready?”

As Mels nodded, she squinted into the noonday sun. Putting her hand up to shield her eyes, she said, “I can’t wait.”

Redd’s Garage & Service was the kind of place her father would have gone to, an auto-body repair and mechanics shop that was full of old-school types who had tattoos they’d gotten in the Army, grease on their faces, and wrenches instead of computers to do the work.

And unlike Caldwell Auto, they had seen Fi-Fi worth saving.

Mels’s old Civic was backed out to the kind of fanfare that West Coast Choppers revealed their masterpieces with.

Then again, Mels’s ancient set of wheels, back in working order, was a miracle: Somehow the team here had gotten her into shape again.

“Oh, look at her!” Mels walked over as the mechanic got out from behind the wheel. “It’s…well, it truly is a miracle.”

That was the only word that kept coming to her: Her steady and sure car had been resurrected out of its catastrophic injuries and was once more on the road.

Frankly, she felt a kinship with the Civic. She had been through a crash, had pulled herself back together, and was about to hit the road. With Fi-Fi’s help, of course.

“Thank you so much,” she murmured, blinking fast.

A quick signature on some paperwork, and then she was sitting in the driver’s seat, running her hands around the wheel. Parts of the dash had had to be replaced because of the air bag deployment, and Fi-Fi smelled different—a little like clean oil. But she sounded the same and she felt the same.

Mels briefly closed her eyes as that familiar pain came back.

Then she opened them, reached over to her left hip, and drew the seat belt across her lap. After clicking the thing home, she put the engine in drive and eased out into traffic.

The previous three weeks had been…illuminating. Scary. Lonely. Affirming.

And her solace, apart from work, had been writing it all down… everything from stories about her father to details about the man she’d fallen in love with, to the aftermath.