Page 13 of Lourdes & the Mafia
The thing bursts into shadowy dust, releasing me. I stand, wielding my weapon as more of those creatures spring from the shadows.
I lash out, whacking them as they approach. But the more I hit, the more appear, reaching for me from all angles.
Before they can grab me, a bright burst of orange light shoots out, consuming the shadows. They ignite, burning like paper and wailing as it consumes their bodies.
When they’re gone, nothing but smoke and ash are left behind.
And where they were looming, a man appears into view, his footsteps echoing as he comes close to me.
When the smoke disperses, his features become clear, even in the dimness of the hall.
And holy fucking shit balls.Joder.
The man looks like a fuckingmodel.
Tall and lithe, he wears designer jeans and a tight turtleneck that hug his frame. Black curls hang against smooth, brown skin, positioned almost purposefully against his forehead to give him an endearing, mischievous look. He has a nice, strong bone structure and the shadow of a beard against his square jaw. Dark eyes and eyelashes a woman can only envy.
He comes closer, and I catch a whiff of frankincense.
The man stops in front of me and smiles before reaching out and prying the candle holder away from my fingers. It clatters to the ground as he discards it off to the side, and I can only stupidly stand as he takes my chin in his fingers and tilts my head up.
“Amore,” he whispers, an obvious Italian accent slipping through. “This is why it’s dangerous to wander around a place you don’t know.”
“How—?”
My question is cut off as he chuckles and bends.
And takes my mouth in a searing kiss.
I gasp in shock and he takes the opportunity to press his tongue against mine. Instinct demands I reciprocate and I start to. My tongue slashes against his, the action making him groan as he presses firmly against me. His mouth is warm and wet and tastes like a decadent ambrosia.
Through the thin number, I feel the hardness of his dick against my lower half. My body curves to rub against him.
Fuck, am I a hoe? Is this hoe shit? No, no, no.Hoeisn’t a nice word and I abhor slut shaming in any way, shape, or form. Even when talking about yourself. Nothing wrong with hopping on a dick you just met and riding it off into the sunset. I know that, and I know there shouldn’t be anything wrong with kissing the guy who saved me from a bunch of monsters.
Yet…
My hands grasp for his arms and I shove him away, staring up into his eyes in time to see them flare red.
Fear freezes me right before we’re consumed by shadows. They spread over us like a blanket of darkness. The moment they clear, we’re standing in that rich, well-lit suite once again and I shove away from him, scrambling backwards. The backs of my legs hit the bed and I fall against it.
Panic claws at my throat and I start to hyperventilate. My knees touch my chest and I can’t control the rocking movements of my body.
Fuck, he has red eyes.
He’s ademon.
Fuck, fuckfuck.
I was attacked by demons.
“I’m dead,” I gasp out. “I’m fucking dead, aren’t I? And this is hell!” Hellfire, demons, glowing red eyes. I’ve never held much belief in religion the same way my family has. What was always supposed to feel like salvation only felt like chains. With so many different beliefs, it was always hard to know what to believe, so I chose to not believe in anything at all. I wonder if I should be rethinking that now. “I’m dead, aren’t I? That fake desgraciada killed me, didn’t she? Oh my god, oh my god.”
Strong hands grasp at my ankles, yanking them down so my legs are flat on the mattress. I gasp as the demon man climbs over me, his too-attractive body straddling mine. Like he belongs above me.
He takes my face in his warm hands. “Calm down, Amore,” he orders. And for some reason, I do. And I try not to focus on the sensations his touch provokes. Like lightning and warmth spreading over my body. “You’re not dead.”
“I’m not?”
