Sinfully Scandalous

Sinfully Scandalous by Rosalie Stanton

Atlantic Bridge www.atlanticbridge.net

Copyright ©2012 by Rosalie Stanton First published in 2012 NOTICE: This eBook is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution to any person via email, floppy disk, network, print out, or any other means is a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines and/or imprisonment. This notice overrides the Adobe Reader permissions which are erroneous. This eBook cannot be legally lent or given to others. This eBook is displayed using 100% recycled electrons.

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Sinfully Scandalous by Rosalie Stanton

CONTENTS Acknowledgments Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Epilogue ****

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Published by Liquid Silver Books, Imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana. Copyright 2008, Mara Lee. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the authors. This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental. Disclaimer This book contains irreverent references, interactions, humor, personalities, and relationships that might be offensive to some. I am a student of religious studies, but I am not pious, and I try to make all my characters rounded and flawed, be they Lucifer or Big J. Having been raised in a strict religious environment, myself, I understand some readers might find my outlook inflammatory. If you are particularly sensitive to unconventional religious themes, this might not be the book for you.

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Blurb Thou shalt not commit adultery. It's an order Luxi, Sin of Lust, never saw coming. When you work for Lucifer, though, you tend to lay off the questions. She isn't comforted when she discovers her assignment is to intern for a preacher-turned-politician, especially when her directive goes no further. As Luxi prepares for a long ride to nowhere, she can't help but wonder if something else is at play ... or what the King of Hell has up his sleeve. Grayson Bailey's run for state senate is going nowhere fast. The poll numbers are depressing, his campaign advisor is on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and someone out there has a bullet with his name on it. Yet when temptation herself struts through the door with a sassy smirk and an attitude to match, Grayson finds it very hard to remember which obligations are at the top. The closer Grayson gets to Luxi, the stranger his life becomes. With Election Day—and a psycho with a gun—just around the corner, he can't afford any detours. And while Luxi never puts her heart on the line, there's something about this man that tests her resolve ... though it might end up costing her more than she can afford.

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Acknowledgments Thanks to my crit-partners Nikki London, Sarah Ballance, JA Saare, Madelyn Ford. Thanks and love to Aaron for his support and encouragement, and for being the inspiration behind every hero I write. Thanks to my readers, whose enthusiasm for the first book helped get me through the second. Thanks to Sara for being my big sister. Thanks to Granny and Fafa, whose unconditional love reminds me how beautiful religion can be. Thanks to my editor, Chrissie Henderson, who again kept me from embarrassing myself. Dedication For Kimmie. Thank you for being my biggest fan, but more importantly, my dearest friend. I couldn't have done any of it without you. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Prologue In the beginning, Big J created the Earth and all that surrounded it. He did it mostly on a dare from the angels on his staff, those who openly doubted his self-proclaimed Almighty status and demanded evidence that he was, indeed, the head honcho. Back in the day, ethereal beings had short attention spans. It was one of the side effects to sitting around a heavenly dimension with nothing to do for fun. Big J talked a good game, but his subjects needed a demonstration, and therefore he provided. Thus, man emerged from dust. A creature of perceived flawlessness, created in Big J's image, but without all the fancy superpowers. For a while, there resided a garden where the first man and second woman—as the man had demanded a refund for the first woman—interacted with blissful ignorance to the turning world around them. Big J became boastful about his design, stating at last he had created a class of being that would grant him the respect and worship he deserved. After a few hours listening to Big J boast, his closest confidant, Lucifer, claimed no creature could be created without the spirit of rebellion, and that the human race would prove just as much a disappointment as the angels, if not more so. Big J, intrigued, asked Lucifer to assume the shape of a serpent and put his money where his mouth was. The male human, completely befuddled by the oddity of a talking snake, convinced the female to forgo her skepticism. Together, they 7

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proved Lucifer's point and failed Big J's test. As punishment, the man and woman were banished from the Garden, but remained on good terms with Lucifer after he explained it was merely a social experiment and nothing personal. Big J kept Lucifer close after that. It would have been easy to throw his hands up in surrender, but a prideful deity, Big J decided it would be a waste to undo his master creation. Instead, he and Lucifer decided to make wagers on who was the better salesman. Lucifer would tempt and Big J would threaten, and one by one, the descendants of the first man and second woman began falling prey to Lucifer's antics. When Big J asked Lucifer how it was accomplished, Lucifer merely replied that being bad was more fun, and fun trumped feeling bullied any day of the week. Big J felt that was reasonable, but soon humans began dying off. With nowhere else to go, their souls flocked toward Paradise, and the streets of Heaven overfilled. Since some of the souls were truly nasty sons of bitches, Big J became more and more reluctant to house them all on his lawn. He then approached Lucifer with another request. Those who fell victim to Lucifer's schemes did not deserve having their pillows fluffed. It made little sense allowing bad people into a previously good neighborhood. Big J wanted a do-over. Lucifer, as the most cunning angel, had earned a place in Big J's design. After receiving a hefty promotion from angel to deity—complete with a permanent new set of shiny powers—he would guard over those he tempted into falling from grace in a world befitting the worst sort of sinner. In the meantime, Big J and Lucifer's low-stakes wager over the souls 8

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of man would become more than just a weekly gamble. Lucifer liked the idea, and therefore took four of Big J's best architects to create a world so horrible the very mention made man tremble. Sometime during this period, Lucifer decided to form a safe house for a large portion of his power in the event something went awry and he needed it. He chose the number seven, marking the fabled seven days it had taken Big J to create the world. Thus seven children were born—born and kept isolated, nameless, and completely unaware of the world around them. Lucifer also established a ritzy neighborhood full of creature comforts: a spa, several high-end shopping areas, a food court, world-class dining, a symphony, a theatre, and miles of mansions that multiplied every time a new demon was born of ash. After all, Lucifer's pet creations needed a place to live, and unlike the humans, they weren't being punished. Big J commemorated Hell's grand opening by unleashing a flood on his human creation, who by this point had turned out to be mostly wicked. Within no time, the streets of Hell overflowed with the scum of Earth, and Big J's latest project was up and running. So it continued for centuries. Big J and Lucifer went about making deals, trading bets, pitting their best upon assorted targets and meeting up for drinks somewhere on their playing field to laugh and boast about what the other might concoct next. However, there was an unexpected side effect in ruling Hell. Lucifer went out into the world to work his magic, but returned home to a place where the cries of the damned were 9

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far too loud to ignore for eternity. By Big J's orders, the place of everlasting punishment did more than live up to its reputation. Lucifer might have been apathetic at first, believing—as did Big J—humans had one chance to make their choice, fall in line, or accept the consequences. If they chose to shun that which had been given to them during their mortal lives, they didn't deserve a second chance. But the screams didn't stop. Souls didn't acclimate to eternal torture. If anything, the wails of the oldest were the most deafening, and likewise the hardest to bear. Lucifer ignored them as long as he could. He turned a blind eye to those who approached him, grabbed at his feet, and begged for mercy. When he approached Big J about the problem, the deity suggested moving all souls to a Lake of Fire where they could not touch him. Lucifer followed this advice, but it didn't help matters any. Ultimately, the only escape for the Ruler of Hell was to close the shades from his cozy palace in Hells Bells and pretend he was anywhere but where he was. It wasn't until a crazy little thing called Christianity began spreading like wildfire that Lucifer put his foot down. For the first time, he approached Big J and asked about possibly moving some of the older souls from Hell to a place for rehabilitation. Big J promptly declined the suggestion, but the argument refused to die. With the birth of Christianity came the papacy, the Nicene Councils, the Trinity—which Lucifer never understood—and the Cardinal Sins. Upon hearing some holy humans felt some sins were worse than others, Lucifer felt inspired and revved in ways he hadn't in years. Based on the decree of man, he took the concept he had pocketed so 10

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long ago, the faceless children who had existed without living, and created physical Sins to take his place in the world, along with names to represent their status. He reasoned it was a way to keep the natural order balanced—Big J's angels were still on the prowl for righteousness, and while he had no desire to get his hands dirty, Lucifer knew he needed to keep himself in the game if he wanted to keep Big J on his toes. Therefore, the Sins were born. The Seven Deadly Sins, given flesh, fire and assignments to keep them busy for eternity. He made Superbia first, the Sin of Pride. Next came Ira, the Sin of Wrath. Luxuria was the third, the Sin of Lust. Gula came next, the Sin of Gluttony. Acedia was the fifth, the Sin of Sloth. Next came Avaritia, the Sin of Greed. Last was Invidia, the Sin of Envy. While Lucifer never claimed any children, he did love the Sins as his own. With them at his side, he roamed the world of his own accord, not worrying about appearing in person unless the situation demanded it. Whereas other demons from the pit might find themselves shunned from blessed ground, the Sins, regardless of having been born in the ashes of Hell, could go anywhere they desired. They were the brainchild of humanity, and that gave them power none other enjoyed. It made them a hot commodity, and a well-guarded secret, protected especially from reaching anyone with one foot in Paradise. No one outside Hell's Gates knew the Sins had bodies of their own. And while the Sins were widely 11

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envied among their peers for their closeness with Lucifer, no one came close to matching their power. After the Sins' creation, Lucifer again approached Big J about rehabilitating the older souls, or at least offering them a chance to destroy themselves to avoid further suffering. Again, Big J declined. This led to a terrible falling out. Lucifer cut himself off completely from his once-friend, and determined he would make Hell as horrible a place as possible so the cries of his prisoners wouldn't remain deaf on Big J's ears forever. Lucifer likewise completely ceased going out in the world on his own to tempt humanity into depravity, feeling he had done enough damage. Generations rolled on. Eras flew by. Big J and Lucifer did not communicate for centuries. Then one of the Sins, Avaritia, resigned her post. Big J managed to garner Lucifer's attention and arrange a meeting. The world became interesting again. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter One "I'm sorry ... what?" Lucifer was drafting a memo and, at first, didn't bother looking up. "That's funny. I don't remember stuttering." "I just don't get it." He set his pen beside the parchment, his gaze rising to hers. Two millennia hadn't eradicated the power behind the stare. He was her boss first and her friend second, and though Luxuria felt mostly apt at pinpointing his moods, she wouldn't pretend he didn't freak her shit out. He was still the King of Hell and everything. That title meant something, even to those who truly knew him. "There's a man on Earth named Grayson Bailey. He is the pastor at Brentwood Christian Church in a town called Springfield." "Yeah," Luxi agreed slowly. The dual horns she often saw nestled in his chestnut curls were absent, thus she presumed he was serious. He usually sported the devil look when he was pulling someone's leg. That wasn't today, apparently. "That much I heard." Lucifer looked at her a moment longer, then nodded and glanced down as though that explained everything. Fortunately, Luxi knew better than to start blabbing. Her boss might be lenient, but he didn't like being questioned, and it wasn't hard to see why. As it happened, she'd never had issue with any of her assignments in the past, and despite her misgivings, knew the assignment wasn't as strange and 13

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pointless as it seemed. At the very least, she hoped that were the case. "Grayson Bailey," Lucifer continued a second later, "is running for state senate." Luxi nodded. "Uh huh..." "I would like you to work with him on his campaign." She nodded again and waited. And as the last time, Lucifer didn't elaborate. Perhaps she was meant to translate his meaning on her own. It wasn't as though her job had veered much off course over the last few centuries. Go somewhere, seduce someone, lure a target toward a transgression of their own making, return victorious, and all that jazz. Yet Luxi knew it was dangerous assuming Lucifer's intention, even if it seemed obvious. Therefore, when he neglected to elaborate, she prodded, "And seduce him?" Lucifer brow furrowed. "Did I say seduce him?" "No." She frowned. "Is this an old fashioned gig? You want me to infect him with lust so he humps an intern or something?" "I'm pretty sure if that was my intention, I would have mentioned it." "Then what is your intention?" Luxi winced and threw her hands up, prepared for the bemused stare she received. "Sorry, Boss, but I'm not seeing it." "Clearly." Lucifer's lips twitched but he didn't smile. Instead, he sighed and leaned back, folding his hands behind his head. "I want you to work with him, Luxi. Very close. Springfield is a decent-sized city in a state boasting the highest meth count in the good ole US of A. Grayson is a 14

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socially liberal minister looking to taking the teachings of the Good Lord to the capital in a way that will benefit the less fortunate." Luxi shrugged. "So?" "So Springfield isn't what I would call a liberal town. They like their bibles and they like their guns, and they like everyone to speak the same language when it comes to their bibles and their guns. A preacher who doesn't sing their tune and has the balls to run for office—" "No, I got why he's a hot ticket." Lucifer looked indifferent. "Then I don't see what the problem is." "You don't want me to seduce him." "Correct." "You don't want me to make him pant over some barely legal intern." "You're really on a roll here." Luxi sighed, her shoulders dropping. "I don't get it." "I really couldn't make it any simpler for you," Lucifer said. "You're going to Springfield, Missouri. You're going to work for Grayson Bailey's campaign. That is all." "That can't be all. I have to have a job." "I believe I just gave it to you." "That's not a job. That's a babysitting gig." She frowned thoughtfully. "Do you want me to seduce someone from the other side? Who's running against him?" "A celebrated Vietnam war hero, not to mention three-time congressman. His name is Walter Church." "Right. You want me to seduce him, then." 15

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"Luxuria, I want to make myself very clear." Lucifer slowly rose to his feet. "Thou shalt not commit adultery. Under no circumstances are you to seduce or influence anyone involved in either campaign. You're going there simply to serve as a staff member in Grayson Bailey's office. Nothing else." Though it seemed impossible, she deflated even more, her swarming mind woefully lost. It simply didn't make any sense. A Sin, one of Lucifer's hand-created children of destruction, sent on a simple, no-point job with no foreseeable objective other than to smile and nod at a human. This wasn't the sort of task any Sin fielded, especially not on a direct-order status from the Big Man himself. It was an inane complete waste of time, but she knew better than to press her luck any further. Lucifer could be a hoot and a half to work for, but there were definite times when he wasn't in the mood to be Mr. Fun Guy. To be honest, the past few weeks hadn't exactly been Fast Times at Ridgemont High. Everyone felt restless and shuffled, even those whose stations and duties hadn't changed in several millennia. The whole underworld was still acclimating to Ava's departure from the fold, and the hole it left among those who had known and loved her. Luxi was happy for her— no one deserved happiness more than their much shit-upon little sister—but she couldn't deny the gap Ava had left in her wake. Whether or not it was due to their origins—Luxi and Ava were both Sins of excess, and therefore had a bond they couldn't claim with the others—was a different matter. Admittedly, Luxi and Ava were also very close with their 16

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brother, Gula, for the same reason ... yet there were some things one simply didn't share with non-female siblings. Ava was happy. That was all that mattered. She and Dante were still in Hicksville, USA, though why was anyone's guess. Luxi had expected her sister to hit the road for a place with a bit more speed and nightlife. Small southern towns really weren't Ava's scene, but if it made her happy, she supposed questioning it made little sense. Until now, Luxi had been eager to get back to work. Nothing revved her motor like stalking human targets and creating interesting methods by which to facilitate her orders. With Ava's spot vacant, she had suspected Lucifer would demand everyone double down for a rough few months until they found a replacement. Instead, Luxi's first official assignment was a liberal preacher-turned-candidate, and she had no ostensible motive. When she didn't fire another question, Lucifer reached into one of the drawers of his desk and produced a manila folder, the tab reading BAILEY, G with Luxuria scribed next to it in elegant penmanship. It was the same method by which he catalogued all important assignments, though for whatever reason, seeing her particularly frivolous task given the same lofty status as others made her want to laugh. "I sent Barry up to fill out an application on a townhouse," Lucifer said. "You were approved." Luxi twirled a finger in the air. The Four Horsemen, War, Famine, Death, and the Beast—or Steve, Joe, Frank, and Barry, as they preferred—had little to do until the end of 17

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days, therefore most commonly served as Lucifer's lackeys. Whenever he needed a task done, they were typically the ones first called upon. It was the ass-end of getting landed with a job that consisted more of its large overture than the perpetually delayed one-night-only performance. "A checking account has likewise been established in your name." Lucifer handed her a checkbook with the name Luxi Daimon inscribed in the upper left hand corner, then returned to fishing through his papers. "I've also taken the liberty of approving you for a hundred thousand dollar credit limit on your new..." He frowned at the small square of plastic. "Empire State credit card." "Empire State." He shrugged. "They had the best rates." "They approved a hundred thousand dollar limit?" "I'm the King of Hell. Would you say no to me?" Luxi's eyebrows flickered. Fair point. "I'm taking this is for emergency expenses only?" "Do I look like the kind of guy who gives a damn what you charge?" "No, you look a lot more like the kind of guy who would resort to a bad pun on a checking account." Luxi waved her checkbook. "My last name is Daimon?" "Not many people will understand the significance." "But we're banking a pastor won't." "Luxuria," Lucifer said sternly, "unless you go around blabbing that you're here on assignment from Hell, I honestly don't think you'll get anything more than a joke or two. And even then, your cover wouldn't be blown so much as your ass 18

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would be thrown into an asylum, and then you'd have to have someone check you out." "And that someone wouldn't be you." He smirked. "What do you think?" "I think I'll bite the bullet, take the jokes, and do me some retail therapy when it all gets to be too much." Luxi snagged the credit card from Lucifer's grasp, tapping it eagerly against her fingernails. "What's paying the bill this time?" "I'm sure I'll find something." It was one of Lucifer's hobbies. Aside from sending his Sins out on their various tasks, he likewise established large dollar accounts, typically offshore, in which he could wire funds to whatever miscellaneous expense funds he needed at the moment. Most of Hell's inhabitants assumed Lucifer fronted his expenses by means of conjuring money out of the sky, but those close to the King of Hell knew otherwise. He liked maintaining integrity, and didn't much advocate getting humans—unmarked humans whose future didn't reside in Hell—into trouble for means they couldn't control. Therefore, he'd started sending up agents as early as the Flood to seize artifacts that could be reintegrated every few hundred years and sold to the highest bidder. Lucifer still had a few prized relics in his personal collection. Luxi wagered he wouldn't release the Ark of the Covenant unless one of his people burned down the Vatican. It still came up at the occasional staff meeting. Luxi's eyes remained on the credit card a minute longer before she looked again to Lucifer. He was pulling out all the 19

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stops. While funds were always needed in some small order to support assignments in which the Sins fully embedded themselves into human culture to get near their target, checking accounts and credit cards were never used together. Hell would have gone broke a long time ago with Invi around, were it the case. The fact that Lucifer had handed over so much meant there was something else in the mix. Something he hadn't divulged and wouldn't divulge until it suited him. Even knowing as much, Luxi couldn't resist prodding one last time. She knew she wouldn't get a straight answer, but it didn't hurt to try. "This guy's important to you, isn't he?" she asked softly. "Grayson Bailey. There's something going on with him." Lucifer didn't meet her gaze. "Nope, not really." She grinned tightly. That was his way of saying yes but he didn't want to admit it. She slid the card into her pocket and tossed her dark, wavy hair over her shoulder. All in all, the big guy liked his privacy. If he wanted her in Springfield, there was a reason. He'd tell her when the time came. "You got it, Boss," Luxi said. "One babysitting gig coming up." "Glad to hear it." She kept her eyes on him but he never looked back. It was his way of telling her the meeting was over. She had her assignment, she knew what was expected. Except it made no sense. Not yet. She trusted it would in the end. Springfield was a moderately-sized city in Missouri, claiming over a hundred and fifty thousand residents—half a million counting the surrounding area. It was also boring as 20

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fuck. A quick scan around town revealed little in the way of scandal or interest. There were three movie theaters, one mall, a few bowling alleys, a church on every street corner, one or two notably tall buildings, but nothing more that screamed anything beyond what Lucifer had already told her. It was the town the Bible had built. Her home for the next however long. Luxi was a woman of creature comforts. She liked clubs, dancing, drinking, getting slutty in the girl's room, and making drunken dares with Ava over who could best belt out I Will Survive into a karaoke microphone. Springfield had a few clubs that desperately wanted to belong in larger cities, and while the downtown nightlife seemed a bit more thrilling than she would have otherwise anticipated, the immediate future seemed dim. What the hell was she to do with all this time? She made the rounds as best she could, stopping by the mall to exercise the awesome charging abilities that came with her new credit card and procure a wardrobe befitting the Sin of Lust in a repressed southern town. It likely wouldn't be office-appropriate for Grayson Bailey, but given the broad perimeters of her orders, she couldn't care enough to stop. After scouring the town for signs of anything interesting, Luxi retired to Bingham Hill, a long stretch of road alongside one of the larger highway intersections that had the unfortunate local moniker of Apartment Lane. She found her new digs, a crossbreed between older fashion and technology, much as she expected to find it. Cherry Lane Apartments. Like everything else, it left a lot to be desired. 21

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Her new townhouse consisted of two floors. There was a living area, a pocket-bathroom, and a small kitchen on the lower level, two bedrooms and a bath above. Barry the Horseman hadn't done much in way of decorating or acquiring furniture, and though Luxi wouldn't expect it of him, she didn't much like the idea of crashing on a sofa or sifting through the pile of clothes someone had left in the guest bedroom for something salvageable. It didn't hit until nightfall, the total mess of a situation in which she'd landed herself. It was one thing listening to Lucifer give her orders, talk about watching over some baby politician, and do nothing that demanded any effort on her part as a Sin. It was something else entirely being stuck in the middle of nowhere with no guide as to what she was supposed to do aside from make sure Grayson remained on his intended path. There had to be something on the guy—a mistress, a love child, a deal signed in blood—with the boss to grant him the attention he'd received. Luxi sighed and flopped onto the sofa, wincing as it whined and sank below her weight. Her thoughts again turned to her sister. She knew Ava hadn't felt like this—her excursion in Mississippi hadn't been an assignment so much as a perceived run for her life in desperation to escape Lucifer's wrath—but Luxi couldn't help but wonder if her sister could relate. While Luxi's predicament was more forced banishment, Ava had likewise found herself confined in a small Southern town with nowhere to turn and no direction to face. She'd also had the good fortune to realize her pet vampire, the one who had trailed after her for centuries, was hot as all hell and 22

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dynamite in the sack, not to mention hopelessly in love with her. Luxi blew at loose strands of her hair. There was little chance of a repeat performance here. Aside from being unable to claim the heart of a vampire or any demon that might have crossed her path in the last few hundred years, Luxi was an agent independent of the heart. Love, the sort of love Ava had been lucky enough to find, seemed the stuff out of fairytales. Or better yet, Big J's infinite compassion. She knew it existed—there, somewhere, in the void of all that was and all that would be, but at every turn, Big J struck her as an enormous tool with size issues, and the compassion all the poets wrote about fell short of the real deal. Thus, in the meantime, Luxi was confined to the mortal realm without rhyme or reason. She really missed Ava. This new setup totally sucked. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Two The latest numbers weren't encouraging. It wasn't really a surprise, yet somehow Grayson Bailey felt his stomach fall every time a new poll was released. Twenty-one percent of registered voters thought he was a devil worshipper. Twenty-one percent. The rest of the numbers fell somewhere in the margins of militant atheist to secret gay Nazi, and while these results didn't necessarily represent the overwhelming sentiment of every inhabitant in town, he knew from experience the college vote could only help him so much. He needed to apply his focus in the homes, hearts and minds of his constituents. Here in his hometown, where suddenly no one respected his name. "Goddamn it." Grayson barely glanced up from the report. If twenty years had taught him anything, it was to keep from blinking at John's surly growl and expletive of the day. The closer the race, the more colorful the language; with the latest poll data, it was fortunate he hadn't uttered anything more controversial. John stopped short of his desk, sighing loudly. Grayson hazarded a guess. "So you've seen them." "The numbers." "Yeah. They aren't good." "That's one way of putting it. I'd say they were two-dayold shit that hasn't been flushed, but I like your optimism." 24

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Grayson huffed a short laugh, raising his head. It was late; most of the office workers and interns had gone home for the day, leaving their cramped headquarters feeling abnormally large and abandoned. "It'll pick up," he said. "You've been saying that for weeks now." "Hey, you're the campaign coordinator. I'm just the guy who's sitting here." John hissed and tore a hand through his curly hair. The man had spent most of his adult life with a receding hairline, which gave his expressive face an air of general hostility most came to associate with his dry sense of humor, and on bad days, his skill with the proverbial bullwhip. "We've had you out there every day," he reasoned. Grayson shook his head. "They haven't gotten to know me yet." "You've only lived here your whole life." "And how long is that really?" "Thirty-four years." He shrugged. "Maybe they hold my youth and vitality against me." John gestured emphatically. "How can you joke around about this?" "If you don't laugh, you cry, right?" "You must be laughing a lot." "I try to have a good sense of humor." The other man sighed again, running his hand along his jaw, a look of manic desperation coloring his eyes. "I don't have to tell you again why this is important to me, do I?" 25

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Grayson snickered. He heard this at least twenty-five times a day, and had it not been for the fact he knew John as well as he did, he might believe his friend were making up stories to convince him of his dedication. "Yes. Please, tell me why my campaign is important to you." "I left Washington for you." "Yeah, I still don't get that. This is small-town politics, John." "You don't think outside the box." "There's a box now?" "This election will make or break your political career." "Great. But no pressure or anything." "I'm not kidding, Grayson. People like you just don't get into politics. People like me do. That's why you have such a shot at getting elected ... if you just lived somewhere else." John sighed again, collapsing into the open seat beside Grayson's desk. "Why couldn't you be from Rhode Island or New Hampshire or one of those nice New England states?" "Not sure. Here's another question: is it really necessary for the English language to have the words flammable and inflammable? That's always bothered me." "You're not helping." "I didn't realize that was my role in this one-way conversation." "Grayson—" "Look, it's late and we've both had a really busy month and a half. I don't want to talk about things that we can't get done between now and tomorrow right now." Grayson wet his lips and again turned his attention to the poll data. The 26

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numbers began blurring. What he really needed was a good night's rest, possibly followed by a day spent in bed watching Scrubs reruns on Comedy Central. "These numbers—" "Won't change between now and tomorrow morning, but tomorrow morning is when we can start strategizing how to get the word out that I'm not the Antichrist." For whatever reason, John perked up at that. "Actually, that might be an improvement. Some of the fundamentalists in the area might wanna hurry you into power to speed up the rapture." "I don't think it works that way. In the movies, the Antichrist is almost always the one that ends up dead." "We've gotta focus on getting you out there more," John said. "And here I thought I'd been out there more." "No, I mean out there out there. Out there where the people are. The public likes you. They just don't know they like you." "Telling the public what they think has always been a key part in winning elections." "But this is what they want. How many members do you have in Brentwood?" "Two hundred or so." John nodded. "And how many of them have a bad thing to say about you?" "One or two, depending on the sermon." "And these are good Christian people. Good Christian people who know you and like you." 27

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"Amazingly at the same time." "You're just sitting on a hot commodity there." "No," Grayson said, shaking his head. "I'm not exploiting my congregation for political gain. Besides, two hundred people isn't the whole southwest." "No, but—" "No buts. It's just not happening." He rose to his feet, loosening his necktie. "We had this mapped out all different, you and I. It's hard to sell a candidate with good, Christian values in this region when his wife ran off with the milkman." John's brow furrowed. "I thought Amily ran off with your associate minister." "I prefer my version." He'd gone almost a day without thinking of her, which was admirable, and testified more to his frantic schedule than a show of true willpower. A year and a half had passed. More than enough time to nurse his wounds and move on, but the weight of her betrayal refused to alleviate, and he couldn't get himself to move on without analyzing every syllable they had exchanged over the last six months of marriage. The run for state senate had been in the playbooks for three years now. It wasn't something one just up and decided to do—not if they wanted to do it right. There were things to consider, money to raise, profiles to build, relationships to forge, and a litany of other things more and more hopefuls forgot around election time. Waiting for John had been among the top priorities; John was a career politician, a genius in his field, and a longtime friend. They had bonded over chocolate milk in second grade and remained close ever since. When 28

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John's ambitions took him from Springfield to Washington, he'd made sure to keep in touch. John had also started talking nonsense a few years back about Grayson running for office. The chatter had been ignored or laughed off until one day it didn't seem so much like an insane leap as the right thing to do at the right time. Everything else had fallen into place—marriage, the pulpit, and financial security—and running for office, while not a lifelong ambition, was the next natural step in his career. Then Amily had run off with Pastor Dean Tanner. Granted, that relationship hadn't lasted—word had it none of her flings since filing for divorce had any sort of staying power. Then again, Amily never had been the sort to settle down. "Amily would've made a great asset," John mused. "Yeah. You should've run that by her before she decided to get biblical with half the town." At least John had the sense to recognize the edge in his voice. "Have you heard from her?" "Since when?" "Since ... the last time you heard from her?" "No." When John didn't say anything further, Grayson slipped his suit jacket off his chair and wormed his arms inside. There were times he suspected his friend slept only to give his subconscious a chance to throw ideas his otherwise detailfocused brain couldn't dream up during waking hours. That wouldn't be Grayson. Not right now, at least, and with the way the polls trended, not likely in the future. 29

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It would be less of a headache to everyone, John especially, if Grayson adapted more of a straight politician's line of thinking, yet it wasn't in his nature. Though winning was his objective, Grayson would be the first to admit his campaign was one more on ideals than political strategy, which bothered his staffers to no end. However, in this particular corner of Missouri, people whose beliefs fell on the outskirts of the norm often felt alienated and outcast. At the very least, he could be their voice. He could help them see they weren't as alone as they thought. Grayson didn't realize he'd started for the door until John's footsteps slowed to a walk at his side. "What do you have on the docket for tomorrow?" "Nina and I are going over the rally schedule," Grayson replied, pushing open the office doors with one hand and retrieving his keys from his pocket with the other. "Clark's flight schedule keeps changing." John laughed. "That's a US senator for you." "We also have the intern coming in." "What intern?" "You know, the intern. From MSU." "We have any number of interns working for us already. Am I expected to remember their names?" "This one is from the Poli-Sci department." John snorted. "Again, you say that as though it means something special." "Yeah, well, she's supposed to be something special. Her professor thinks she just might be the next you." "You only wish there were more of me." 30

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Grayson's lips quirked, a cool blast of autumn air whispering across his face. Nighttime in the Ozarks was a singular experience, Springfield's geography providing a special marriage of the urban and rural. It was the third largest city within state lines, but it took very little to be completely emerged in wilderness. Grayson's office headquarters were located alongside one of the busier streets; heading east would get him on the highway within two minutes. If he kept going, in ten minutes the blinking city lights would be nothing but a memory; only the stars and the glare of oncoming traffic would light his way. During his youth, Grayson had entertained a strange lovehate relationship with the town. There was very little to do in terms of socializing, and since he'd been a pretty straightlaced kid, entertainment had been difficult to come across. In high school he would have given his left arm to live somewhere else, anywhere else. He'd boasted loudly about how quickly he'd shake the dust of his hometown off his shoes before making a mad dash to freedom. By the time college rolled around, he'd realized the improbability of going anywhere but the local state school. And the longer he stayed, the less he wanted to leave. Then he'd met Amily, and he'd realized in Springfield he was destined to remain. Now, years later, years wiser, standing in the parking lot of his rented office space alongside Sunshine Street with a failed marriage behind him and a failing campaign ahead, his headspace felt cluttered and confused. The prospect of what lay beyond the horizon both terrified and invigorated. 31

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Campaigns themselves had a charged energy about them, and it was easy to get addicted to the rush. He'd canvassed and phone-banked a few times for local and national elections, but never had he been in the dead center of a political endeavor. It felt so much larger than him. Right now, everything did. "Grayson?" He blinked slowly, then dragged his gaze to John. "Yeah?" "You kinda spaced out just there." "Yeah." "Everything all right?" Grayson nodded. "Yeah." "Okay, well, if you get spacey on the road, pull over. These people might have voted for a dead man once, but I don't think we can convince them to do it again." He laughed. "Goodnight, John." "Remember: arrive alive." Grayson triggered his Nissan's keyless entry and favored John with a parting wave. "If I don't, I promise you'll be the first to know." "Yeah?" "Yeah. I'll haunt your ass until you're in the ground." John frowned thoughtfully. "I actually might be able to do something with that." "If anyone could, it'd be you." She used to love this part: the first day on the job, the thrill of the unknown, the rush of the hunt. Humans were fascinating creatures, diverse despite their commonalities. It was unlike any hierarchy in the pit or above. There were 32

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opinions, philosophies, theories, sciences, religions, politics, and a million other little things that most demons took for granted. There was also doubt in every facet of daily existence. From wardrobe decisions to deity worship, seeds of uncertainty freckled the human psyche, and the concept blew Luxi's mind away. Her world sat on a foundation of absolutes; the thought of not knowing what lurked behind Door Number One was at once riveting and full of excitement and enough to scare one pissless. Whether or not Big J intended his most treasured creation to likewise hold the most power while wielding the least was anyone's guess. Personally, Luxi had always figured it was a cosmic mistake, but she wouldn't complain. It made her job entertaining as all hell, and she enjoyed every second. Or she had. Luxi pried her eyes open. She was on her back in a strange bed. Nothing new there. Nothing new wherever she looked. It hadn't bothered her before—at least, she hadn't noticed it if it did. Everything felt a little surreal, and the sensation was a little jarring. Since creation, since the second her newborn eyes first looked into the face of the devil, she had known her purpose. It was easy to blame her latest displacement on Ava, but she knew her sister's rebellion was a small part of a large problem. She didn't feel like herself. She didn't feel like Lust or Sin or any of the fun stuff. She felt very much like a woman 33

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plopped in Nowheresville with an ambiguous assignment and an even more ambiguous objective. What the hell was Lucifer trying to prove? Luxi sighed and tossed the blanket aside. No sense moping around the townhouse. She had places to go and people to not seduce, and the quicker she started, the sooner it'd be over and life would be back to normal. The campaign headquarters wasn't far from here, which gave her ample time to prepare. According to the schedule Lucifer had given her prior to leaving Hell, she was to report at Grayson Bailey's office by nine o'clock that morning. And since Luxi never did anything half-assed, even assignments that made fuck-all sense, she'd make sure she looked fabulous before stepping outdoors. Everything felt backward, from the shower nozzle that only released hot water when applied on the wrong setting to the noisy dog in the neighboring apartment. Luxi scrubbed her skin free of sulfur and massaged a hundred and fifty dollar shampoo into her scalp. The towels were equally extravagant in terms of price and quality, as were the cosmetics she'd procured during the previous day's shopping extravaganza. Let no one say she did anything without style. Luxi wrung out her dark ringlets and applied her makeup— which she used sparingly, as today's fashion trended more toward less being more. Her skin was moon-pale, which complimented her long, midnight-black hair and made her ruby lips shine. She selected a pair of sleek black slacks and a low-cut red shirt that might as well have been painted on. The finishing touches came in the form of spiky, red high34

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heels and a diamond-studded choker she'd nabbed impulsively before deciding to call it a day. Lucifer might want her to keep her legs together, but that didn't mean she couldn't have fun while wasting her time. There was nothing like a small, repressed Midwest town with more churches than stop signs. Unless she was told otherwise, she'd entertain herself by spreading the blue-balls epidemic. Might as well. Nothing else to do. By the time she felt sufficiently slutted-up, she had fortyfive minutes to find the campaign headquarters. Luxi slipped downstairs while debating the virtues of a cinnamon roll, and nearly tripped when her gaze landed on a familiar, however unexpected face. "Son of a bitch," Luxi muttered. "When in Rome, you know? Knock?" "Hello to you, too." Her youngest sister, Invidia, stood in the middle of the room, her arms crossed and her large brown eyes narrowed with suspicion. The shock of an uninvited houseguest faded quickly, falling into a simpler detachment. "Sorry if I don't offer you a drink," Luxi said, brushing past her. "I'm kinda on a timetable here." "Just had to see it for myself." "See what?" "This whole setup," Invi replied. "Nice place. Good-sized town. Lucifer said it has something to do with a campaign." "Some shmuck named Grayson Bailey's running for Idon't-care and I'm here to ... fuck if I know." She turned around with a forced smile. "To what I do I owe this pleasure?" 35

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Invi shrugged, and Luxi did her best to stifle her temper. She loved her sister, she really did, but there was a lot more of Invi's namesake in her nature than any of the other siblings could claim. The very fact lust and greed shared basic principles had, by default, made Ava one of Luxi's closest friends, and that was a bond Invi had always resented. "Gotta say," Luxi said, "you gotta start talking, else I'm gonna walk out that door." "I just wanted to know what was going on." She snorted. "You and me both, little sister." "This doesn't make any sense." "Tell me something I don't know." "With Ava being romancing it up with her vampire boy toy—" "Think they're serious, kid," Luxi said shortly. "Ava wouldn't quit over a fling." "Yeah, because that hasn't happened anytime recently." Luxi heaved a sigh. "You have a point, Invi?" she demanded. "Not really lookin' to get a lecture meant for someone else, if you catch my drift." "I didn't mean to—" "Yeah. Look, sis, I gotta split. Places to go. Whole lotta nothing to do." Invi took a step forward, holding up a hand. "I just wanted know what's going on," she said. "No one else is on assignment right now, and for whatever reason, he takes you off the leash to do ... whatever this is."

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"Really appreciate the recap. You should do this more often." Luxi left her with a half-assed salute. "Make like a tree. I gotta skedaddle." She didn't bother awaiting a reply, but allowed the world around her to fall away in a swift, dizzying spiral. Teleporting made ending annoying conversations simple. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Three Over the centuries, Luxi had found herself in more than one questionable situation. If ever there had been a time when she felt self-awareness or modesty, it had long escaped the contours of her memory. And while she experienced nothing relatable to nervousness at present, she couldn't deny feeling some discomfort at the knowledge she was completely out of her element. It wasn't like the opinion of any of these humans actually meant anything. Perhaps it was more the uncertainty of her assignment—the wide yet somehow narrow guidelines Lucifer had established. Luxi hated going in blind. She hated it when things came from nowhere. She really hated this. Luxi threw open the front door of the Greenwood Management Center, temporary headquarters for Grayson Bailey's campaign. She fluffed her hair and strolled with confidence she didn't feel toward the center desk, where a pretty blonde woman with a long oval face sat viewing her computer monitor. She could do this. She could. After a prolonged second, the receptionist pulled her gaze off the screen and flashed a friendly smile. "Hello. How may I help you?" "I'm here for the thing," Luxi replied. "The campaign?" "Yeah, that's it." 38

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"Are you volunteering? The phone bank is off Glenstone, just south of Grand. I can give you directions—" Luxi shook her head. "No, I'm not volunteering. Or, I guess I am, but I was told to come here. I'm an intern." "An intern." The woman's tone turned skeptical, glancing at Luxi's low-cut blouse. "You're Ms. Daimon?" "The one and only." "The Ms. Daimon sent here by Professor Pan from Missouri State?" Luxi stifled a groan. Pan. Lucifer's odd sense of humor had struck again. He loved playing with mythology, and utilizing a Greek god, one whose horns and faun legs had inspired the medieval rendering of the Christian devil, was exactly the sort of thing he'd find entertaining. The King of Hell, cursed with a love of lame jokes and obscure puns. "Yes," she agreed. "Professor ... Pan." "The Ms. Daimon with a Bachelors in Marketing who is working on her Masters in Political Science?" Lucifer had really pimped out her credentials. "Yep," Luxi replied. "Looks like." "The Ms. Daimon who—" "Honey-pie, as I said, the one and only. Kinda doubting this town has more than one Daimon in the phone book." The blonde's cheeks tinged red, but she pressed on, leaning forward to whisper loudly, "Ummm, did your professor speak with you about proper work attire? It's not an issue with volunteers, but since so much happens in this office, we need our interns to be—" 39

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"Look, my professor said shit," Luxi said, snappier than she intended. At any rate her words remained true—Lucifer had told her next to nothing about her behavior aside from not getting in anyone's pants. If there were wardrobe guidelines, he'd forgotten to share. "I'm here for the work." The blonde nodded. "I'm sorry if I... You see, we just have a certain look we find appropriate—" "I'm inappropriate?" Luxi glanced down. True, she had selected her wardrobe with a mind to rebel—and arouse—but whatever she'd told herself, she didn't feel she had crossed the point of no return. And while she might look extra curvy and cleavagey, she didn't see anything that would warrant a scolding. Her neckline plunged and the satiny material of her blood-colored blouse hugged her skin, but her nipples weren't showing and she hadn't exposed the world to her midriff. Honestly, for someone who had singlehandedly inspired Heffner's career, she felt she looked conservative. Or as conservative as she got, which, granted, wasn't saying much; still, some allowances should be considered. She was Lust, after all. "Ms. Daimon," the blonde insisted, "I really don't mean to offend." "Uh huh. What's your name?" "Nina Matlock. I'm personal assistant to Mr. Stuart who runs the Bailey campaign." "Okay, well, I'm here for that last thing, so I don't really see why you care." The woman's blush deepened. "We just have certain expectations from our staffers. I..." Nina paused and gave her 40

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another long look before sitting back with a defeated smile. "You know what? It's fine. Let's go find your desk and get started." Luxi shrugged. "Now you're talkin'." In reality, she hadn't really given much consideration to the work—the ticking that went on inside each operation Lucifer sent her to complete. Watching people operate inside their mouse cages was exhausting all on its own, and it seemed frivolous and small in the grand scheme of the universe—especially when it came to politics. The entire election system was a machine running on blood and faith that had little payoff in the end. People standing on their podiums and soapboxes, preaching to the choir about nothing anyone in the Great Beyond actually gave a damn about. God, it was mostly depressing in those terms. Nina stopped at a corner desk and gestured. "Here we go. I'm, ummm, not sure exactly what John wants you to do—" "John?" "Yes. John Stuart. Grayson's campaign manager." She blinked. "Didn't Professor Pan mention John?" Luxi laughed. "Professor P must've forgotten. I would have remembered that name." The only American news Lucifer trusted was The Daily Show, and therefore it was the only American station he didn't have his children mess with. If he wanted something else, he looked at the BBC. "Just a word of caution: he hates being compared to Jon Stewart, the comedian." "Could've guessed that. Most politicians can't take a joke." 41

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"He can take a joke," Nina replied, though not even she looked convinced. "Well, John is ... well—" "Right behind you," a male voice interrupted, directing Luxi's attention to the man who seemingly materialized behind her tour guide. He was of medium height, medium build, had curly brown hair and a receding hairline. He also had the war-torn face of someone who had aged prematurely due to stress and lack of sleep. More importantly, he looked like someone who desperately needed a fuck fest. "Ah," Nina said, "John." "That's me," the man agreed, his attention on Luxi. "Who ordered the hooker, and what's the return policy?" The blonde's jaw went slack. "Oh, my God." Luxi arched her eyebrows and planted her hands on her hips. "The fuck you say, little boy?" "Seriously. Is this a joke?" "John," Nina hissed, "this is Luxi Daimon, our new intern." John barked a laugh. "Yeah, that's happening." "Professor Pan sent her from Missouri State." "I thought she was a Poli-Sci chick, not a call girl." He kept his gaze on Luxi a beat longer before breaking away and shaking his head. "All right, well, this was a nice little break from reality, but send Pretty Woman back to her street corner. We have an election to win." "John, we can't just throw her out—" "I gotta job to do here," Luxi snapped. He huffed. "Well, maybe you shoulda thought of that before dressing up like Madonna's sluttier half. You know where the door is? Well, find it." 42

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Luxi's hands fell to her sides, balling into fists. God, if she weren't on the clock, she'd have this guy leveled and the whole building with him. It was times like these she really wished she kept a running tab of Lucifer's preferred punishments to weigh the pros and cons of completely breaking rank. "You wanna ask me again?" John rolled his eyes and glanced to Nina. "Just get her outta here before Grayson sees—" "Before I see what?" It was one of those rare sitcom moments that only came around once every few hundred years—the sort she wished she could freeze and replay to soak in all the highlights when she wasn't so distracted. As it was, she could barely keep her jaw from hitting the floor when her gaze first roamed over the face that had to belong to Grayson Bailey. Luxi was no stranger to beauty. Fuck, she'd spent centuries happily defiling the pure and exploiting the lustful urges of the repressed. She'd bedded royalty, clergy, the rich and famous and the poor and unknown. She'd posed for paintings no artist could claim and maintain credibility, and while all her indiscretions were for the sake of her work, she wouldn't deny enjoying every second. There really wasn't anything surprisingly appealing about Grayson Bailey, except he wasn't what she expected. A pastor running for public office had conjured any number of images, none of which fitting the bill of the faultless specimen standing before her. The wrinkles she'd pictured roaming his skin didn't exist, nor did the sour brow, stern expression, and crooked back. In short: he was gorgeous. He stood not 43

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overbearingly tall, but tall enough to make his presence known. He also possessed thick, wavy dark hair that didn't look groomed or sloppy, a strong jaw, deep, expressive eyes, broad shoulders ... all over melt-in-your-mouth yumminess. Grayson was a patchwork piece of perfection, as though someone had hand-crafted everything she looked for in a fun romp and plopped him a few feet away. "Holy mother of gimme-some," Luxi murmured. "Thank you, big daddy." "What?" Nina whispered. "What?" John demanded, whirling around. Grayson's cheeks darkened. "Umm, hello. And thank you. I think." Luxi grinned and shrugged. "No, thank you for the view." "Can we keep her around?" Grayson asked, turning to John. "I don't know who she is, but she's already bumped my mood from grumpy to flattered and confident, and I've only known her ten seconds." "This is Luxi Daimon," the other man said. "And she's leaving." "I am?" "She is?" "I tried to warn her," Nina murmured, staring at the ground. John sighed and pinched the space between his eyes. "Of course she is, Grayson. Look at her! She's a tramp stamp away from being a two-dollar hooker." Luxi's brow furrowed. "I didn't realize full-body inspections were a part of the gig. Do you want me to get naked here, or is there a dark room somewhere?" 44

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"Yeah," John drawled. "That might pass in your professor's office, sweetie, but here we do grown-up work. Why don't you find somewhere else to get your rocks off? I'm sure some pole is missing its stripper right about now." "John!" Grayson snapped. "Oh, my God," Nina squeaked again. Luxi said nothing for a long beat. Then another slow grin spread across her lips. "You know, I think I like you after all." "Thanks," John replied dryly. "I'll write home to my mother." It would have been incredibly easy to drag this out. She wasn't going anywhere, of course, but even after she made that clear she still had a ton of time to kill. To keep busy, it seemed, all she had to do was pull some trashy line out of her ass and John would go fifteen rounds on how she earned her keep with her legs spread. And while that would be entertaining as tickling her brother Ira, she doubted Lucifer would appreciate it. Better start acting like she gave a damn. "Look," Luxi said contritely, "I didn't realize there was a dress code." "Of course not," John snapped. "This is only a campaign." "Hey, I could've worn a halter and a miniskirt. Trust me when I say this is me done up with reserve." Luxi shrugged. "I'm a Gen-Y gal." And she had been for over two centuries. "Sorry if the denture-cream brigade can't take it. But, if you like, I'll come back tomorrow with a peasant blouse and a floor-length skirt." "Come back tomorrow?" John barked. "Sorry, Priscilla, this isn't an audition." 45

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"John, stop it. She's exactly what we need." Grayson's eyes were on her face again, though the humor had vanished. It was a look unlike anything Luxi had received—not lust, not exactly, though there were definite indicators. It was more blatant eagerness wrapped inside hopeful idealism. She'd never seen a look like that, and it sent tremors through her body. Luxi beamed. "Just what a girl likes to hear." "What do you mean what we need?" John demanded. "How in the world is she what we need?" "The youth vote," Grayson replied. "The what?" "Youth vote," Nina supplied. "I think he's talking Gen-Y." "I can work the Gen-Y angle," Luxi agreed. John's nostrils flared. "She can work any angle so long as it's not in this office." "I believe," Grayson said, reaching for Luxi's hand, "that isn't your call." She smirked as their fingers entangled, doing her best to ignore the electricity that jolted through her body. It was surprising but not to the point where she felt concerned. Her targets weren't always sex on a stick, but she had bedded many a fine-looking fella. Tinglies in the appropriate southern regions weren't out of the ordinary. Luxi was not going to go all soft and cushy now, especially not over some human she couldn't even bone while on the mortal plane. Still, he was mighty pretty to look at, and there was no harm in looking. "Whoa, sucka," she called to John. "You've been outranked." The man ignored her. "Grayson, you can't—" 46

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"Last I checked, I'm the boss of you, not the other way around," Grayson replied. "Your objection is noted. Ignored, but noted." "I hate this already," John muttered. Girls like Luxi Daimon simply didn't live in the Ozarks. Grayson did his best to keep his eyes aimed where they wouldn't land somewhere offensive. It wasn't like he hadn't seen a pretty face before. Hell, despite Springfield's seemingly immovable stance between urban and rural living, it was a college town and received a new influx of women every semester. While females from each freshman class might possess a purely physical appeal in some way or another, they all started to look alike after a while. He supposed he was old fashioned that way. Point of fact, he'd never blinked in the direction of another woman during his marriage ... but he knew they were there. Luxi wasn't just pretty. There wasn't a word for what she was. Grayson directed her to his office as quickly as he could, certain the hand holding hers would begin sweating, which was not the sort of impression he wanted to make. After John's irrational tirade, they'd be fortunate if she decided against reporting her experience to the News-Leader. And though he knew his role at the moment was to soothe over a perceived misunderstanding and assign Luxi a job within the campaign, Grayson's mind was on a completely different path. A path keen on resurrecting a part of his life he thought long dead. His pants tightened uncomfortably. Damn it, he picked the wrong day to wear jeans. 47

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The second they crossed the threshold into his office, he released her hand and gestured to the two empty chairs in front of his desk. "Have a seat," he said. "All righty," Luxi replied, reaching for the door. "Want me to close this?" "No." The word sounded harsher than he intended, but he couldn't help it. The thought of being in a closed perimeter with her made him uncomfortable. "I mean, no thank you." Luxi's hand fell to her side, a soft, almost vulnerable look washing over her face. It surprised him, though there was no earthly reason why it should. Just because she was confident didn't mean it was her only defining quality. "'Kay," she said instead. She moved forward and found a chair, dark strands of wavy hair falling across her face as she sat. "You're gonna run me through this, right?" Grayson smiled, his shoulders dropping. "Of course. But I do need to apologize for John." "Mr. Tasteful out there." "Right. He comes from a very different world." A small smile played with her lips. It was enchanting. "Who doesn't?" "Fair point." He hazarded a quick glance to the left. His office was a glass box against the southeast wall of the Greenwood building, which gave him a perfect view of almost every corner of the headquarters. John and Nina stood where he had left them, exchanging heated conversation. "He has a unique way of looking at things," Grayson continued. "He was a close Clinton advisor, and he was one of the masterminds that got McCaskill in office a few years back. He's completely 48

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DC upstairs, but Missouri's his home so he has a special way of regarding it." "A special asexual way?" Grayson offered an appreciative chuckle. "At times, I suppose. And while I very much disapprove of the way he approached the matter, we are going to have to tone down the Janet Jackson look." "Janet Jackson?" "I don't know. Is that a thing?" "From the eighties, maybe. I think we're now about some chick called Lady Gaga." "What the hell is a gaga?" "Last I checked it was a sound a baby made." "That's what I thought." "Guess we were both wrong." Luxi sighed and glanced down, studying her own attire. "All right, so I need to slut it down." "Not the words I'd use." "Yeah, but that's because you're all gentleman-like." Grayson smiled tightly. "John's going to want to put you on campus, handing out leaflets and the like, but I think it's better to keep you here. We want you in front of cameras and at press conferences, that way when you are on campus and speaking on behalf of the campaign, people will be more prone to listen to you." "Television, huh?" "You're not camera shy, are you?" She barked a laugh. "Oh no, darling. The camera loves me." 49

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"Somehow I knew that." Grayson opened one of the cabinet drawers and fished out the file Nina had handed him a few days earlier. "All right, so what else is there?" "That me?" she asked, waving at the manila folder. "Your whole life confined between these pages." "Yeah," she purred. "Doubtful." It was safer to ignore that comment. Innocuous as it might be, everything she did, every word she uttered seemed loaded. Instead, Grayson opted for pitiful small talk. "So, tell me a bit about yourself. Are you from Springfield originally?" "Um, no." "Oh yeah? Where are you from?" Luxi hesitated. "South." "The South?" "Way south." Grayson nodded. "Big family?" Her eyes danced. "Oh yeah. Huge. I'm one of seven." "Seven?" He whistled. "Catholic?" He didn't know what happened. A crackle of laughter bubbled off her lips, and damn, if she didn't light up when she laughed. It didn't die, either. Rather than tapering off completely, her giggles began to fall, then, as if remembering what was so funny to begin with, the storm rolled back. He had no idea how long it lasted, and he didn't care. Her shoulders shook and her chest heaved, and she had him so entranced he didn't care if she laughed forever. She didn't, of course. Eventually, her laughter faded to a soft chuckle, but by then she had the attention of the whole building. Grayson just prayed she didn't look out the window. 50

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"Oh, shit," Luxi cried, wiping her eye with her thumb in that dainty way girls did who wanted to spare their makeup. "No. Not Catholic." "Yeah," he said, laughing uncertainly. "I think I got that figured." "Actually, my crew's not exactly the church-going type. No offense or nothing. I know you're tight with Big ... with the man upstairs." "None taken," he assured her. "Though now I'm really curious. Atheist?" "Oh, honey. I wish." Grayson smiled tightly, a familiar pain striking his chest. He knew that feeling well. "Okay, then," he said. "We won't give you any tasks today, aside from answering the phones and getting acquainted with the layout of the place." "Whatever you say, big daddy." A shiver ran down his spine. "And maybe not so much with the pet names." She shrugged and bounced to her feet. "'Kay. Is that all?" Not even close. "Yeah," Grayson said, swallowing hard. He had no earthly reason to keep her in here, except his eyes wanted to roam across her curves and contours, and he would not be one of those politicians. Or men. "Unless I think of something." "Good to meet you, and all that," she said. "I'll just go find John and drive him up the wall until he gives me something to do." "All right." He stood and reached across the desk. "Let me know if you need anything." 51

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"Trust me," Luxi promised, "you'll be my first stop." Her gaze scaled down his body so slowly he could practically feel her fingers at his fly. And then it happened— something in his chest growled and his world, neat and ordered as it was, trembled with the threat of turbulence. It'd be easy, too. Very easy. Close the door, lower the blinds, slip his hands under that red blouse and see if her breasts felt as real as they looked. Political suicide aside, he wouldn't give a righteous damn. She was so beautiful and it had been so long. Long enough to make him want it. Long enough to make the burn hurt. This is not the place to start. Of course, the imagination existed for fictionalized encounters and wishful, however immoral, thinking. In the end, the real world left him with very concrete boundaries. When Luxi left his office, all he had was a painful erection and a headful of confusion for his efforts. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Four "We need to talk." Grayson didn't bother glancing up. He was surprised it had taken John as long as it had to ambush him. Nina was typically the last staffer to vacate the office, and had left more than a half hour earlier after double checking to ensure all the cabinets were locked and the computers were shut off. She was a true asset to the campaign, and what any of them would do without her was a question no one wanted answered. Still, that had left John alone and quiet for an uncharacteristically long time. The fact he'd waited at all was nearly enough to earn him brownie points. When Grayson didn't respond, John cleared his throat and pushed himself off the doorframe. "Did you hear me?" he asked, stepping into the office. "Yes, we need to talk," Grayson replied. "If you're going to break up with me, please don't make it in a place I have to see every day." "So you think this is funny." "I think if what we need to talk about dealt with the campaign, you would've sprung it on me before everyone clocked out for the day." He glanced up at last, but John didn't crack a grin. "This is about Luxi, isn't it?" "She's bad news, Grayson."

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"Because she didn't let you give her hell," he replied. "Believe it or not, there are people out there you can't scare into falling in line." "She walked in and suddenly the rules don't apply?" Grayson snickered. "Christ, John, you make it sound like she committed a felony. That's just the way girls her age dress." "Her age. You remember that. As in, she's much, much too young for you to ... I dunno, have some midlife, midcampaign crisis with." He rolled his eyes. "She's an intern." "Yes, and that's exactly the sort of headline we want to avoid." "Oh, give me a break—" "You tell me you would've let her stay if she didn't have those legs, and we don't have a problem." Grayson huffed incredulously and shook his head. "Sounds like you're the one noticing her legs. I'm just the guy who's trying to get elected." "So you hire some wannabe cocktail party joke because of her large..." John bounced his hands in front of his chest suggestively, his eyebrows perking. "GPA?" "Look, if I fired every pretty girl who had an interest in politics, not even Nina would make the cut." "Leave Nina out of this." Grayson pursed his lips and fell silent. He'd known he'd strike a nerve, which was why he hadn't shied away from pulling out that card. Nina and John had worked together for years, and when John uprooted himself from DC to move 54

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home, he hadn't even blinked when Nina likewise resigned her position and followed suit. They had dated here and there but decided their working relationship was more important than a personal one. Regardless, the tension between them was enough to power the campaign headquarters, and it was one of those secrets everyone knew. "I had no intention of bringing Nina into this or anything else," Grayson replied. "I'm merely stating a fact." John looked a little placated at that. "Yeah, okay," he said. "But that doesn't mean Luxi's is the face we want representing this campaign." "That's where you're wrong." "You have no way of knowing that." "And you have no way of knowing whatever it is you think you know." Grayson shrugged and leaned back. "Luxi is an energetic young woman with a good head on her shoulders." "Good heads on good shoulders don't come in here dressed like Delilah." "We talked about her wardrobe and I don't think it'll be a problem." John stared at him a long moment, then sighed and looked at the floor. "Well, girls like that don't like taking orders." "Are you going to counter every reasonable argument I present?" "Yes." "Girls like that don't seem fake when they get in front of cameras and give interviews. We have staff writers who try to capture the attention of younger voters, but she can do it with a wink and a smile." Grayson turned his attention back 55

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to his desk. "If she doesn't work, that's one thing, but with the numbers we've been staring down these last few weeks, there's nothing she can really do to hurt us." "Oh, Grayson, tell me you don't actually believe that." "If Walter Church wants to run a smear campaign, that's his prerogative." John nodded. "And you have no problem whatsoever returning the favor?" "I didn't say that." "Of course not. He'd only be attacking a well-known and popular minister. What could we possibly gain from exploiting that?" Grayson shot him a glare. "And you think doing the same to a war veteran is going to help us at all?" He looked down again and shook his head. "This is beside the point." "Will you please believe that I know what trouble looks like? That girl bathes in it every day." "I'll take it under advisement." "That's exactly what Bill told me before he stained Monica's dress." All right. He'd had enough. While he knew there were times he and John diverged on political strategy, Grayson was in no mood to sit still and be lectured over a moot point. The fact remained, other than his resounding belief Luxi would actually do a great deal to revitalize the campaign, that he actually liked her. He liked her well enough to want to see her the next day—see more of the girl he'd briefly encountered in his office. The girl whose eyes reflected a story deeper than she could likely share whenever he'd mentioned anything 56

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along the lines of family or faith. There was so much of himself in that look, and if nothing else, he wanted her around to get to know the woman behind the push-up bras and rouge lipstick. Grayson jumped to his feet and slammed his chair against his desk. "You understand by not showing her the door, we're probably saving face, right?" John blinked stupidly. "What?" "The way you treated her, the names you called her ... do you have any idea what sort of exposure that would give us if she ever decided to get in front of a camera and tell that side of our campaign?" The other man frowned thoughtfully. Truth was, he likely hadn't given the matter any such consideration. At times John had the most crippling tunnel vision of any man Grayson had known. How he'd gotten from the playground to Pennsylvania Avenue was anyone's guess. Calmer now, Grayson heaved another sigh. "Look, as I said, I talked with her about the dress policy and her penchant for being a little vocally..." "Stimulating?" John supplied. "Provocative. Anything she did after she left my office was just to annoy the shit out of you because you annoyed the shit out of her. What goes around comes around, right?" John fell quiet again, but it was short-lived. "Don't use language like that with anyone but me." "What, shit?" "Yes, shit. I don't want anyone who's not me hearing you say anything more profane than 'oh my goodness,' you got me?" 57

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He was only halfway kidding, but whatever his intention, it served in relieving what remained of the tension between them. Grayson nodded, laughing shortly. "Wouldn't look good for a minister, would it?" "I'd say not. They already have a reason to not like you." "Thank you. Thank you very much." "Just saying." John heaved a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair. "I'll lay off Elvira—" "Luxi." "Right. Luxi." Grayson frowned. "I get all the other references, but Elvira?" "Big boobs. Pale skin. Dark hair." "That's the second time you've referenced her breasts. Maybe you're the one with the fixation." John waved dismissively. "I'm too busy to have a fixation. Anyway, like I said, I'll lay off. Give her a few tasks to handle before we roll out this insane 'give the hot jailbait girl with a case of verbal diarrhea girl a microphone' plan of yours." "It's appreciated." "But if it blows up in your face, remind yourself this wasn't my idea." "Actually, you're kinda the guy I pay to take the fall." John released a loud groan, his head rolling back. "Why do I do this to myself?" "Because you're a glutton for punishment?" "That's not something they have a twelve-step program for, is it?" Grayson favored him with a tight grin. "Not in the Ozarks." 58

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"They should amend that saying," John replied. "You can't go home again? Well, you can, but you shouldn't." "Yeah. That's a good point. You should do something about that, you know." "First I gotta get you elected. Don't try to distract me." Grayson grinned and resituated his office chair. "You say distraction, I say attempt to save your life by avoiding a heart attack." "You're not a career politician until you've had at least three before forty-five." "Well, never say I didn't at least try to do you any favors." Normally, Luxi didn't give a crap about attracting attention. People saw fantastical things every day and either rationalized them away or became deranged conspiracy theorists; it seemed unnecessary retreating to dark corners to pop in and out of locations. Granted, that rule didn't apply when she was on assignment, especially if she was deep undercover. Lucifer might not be a hard-ass on all things, but he did consider secrecy important to continued survival. How that might have changed since Ava inadvertently blew the lid off the existence of the Sins, Luxi didn't know, but she had enough healthy fear of her boss to not test the waters. She chose the public restroom at a gas station to make her getaway, but she had no idea where she intended to go until she opened her eyes and found herself standing in an unfamiliar room. A really, really nice unfamiliar room. The ceilings were at least fourteen feet high and decorated with elegant, aged gold and brown wallpaper, which 59

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complemented the floor-length draperies. There was a small end table and a huge four-poster bed, which was currently occupied by a nude Ava bouncing enthusiastically on her vampire lover's cock. Luxi squeaked and slammed her hand over her eyes. "Oh shit." "Fuck all!" Dante roared. "I thought this popping in uninvited business was over." Ava apparently hadn't heard anything; the slap of naked flesh went on at least another five seconds before she released a breathless, "What?" "Appreciate the dedication, sweetheart," the vampire purred. "But might wanna slow down. We got company." Luxi winced and dropped her hand, aiming an awkward grin at her very dissatisfied sister. "Umm ... bad time?" Ava tossed her back her wine-red hair. "You've gotta be kidding me." "Well, shit, girl, make me feel welcome." "I'd be a little more hospitable if you and every other demon I've ever met would stop giving me a direct definition of coitus interruptus." Ava pouted and slid off Dante's lap with visible reluctance. "To what do we owe the ... ummm..." "Displeasure," Dante said, sitting up. "The pleasure part was cut short." Luxi snickered. "Oh, get over it. By the smell in this room, you two haven't stopped doing the nasty since Whytecliff." She paused. "And ... is it just me, or are things different? Weren't you in some shitty motel last time I—" 60

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"Interrupted a happy moment?" the vampire said dryly. He did not look nearly as amused as he should, but Luxi supposed she understood. It did seem she and her siblings had a habit of swinging by just after clothes had been shed. It came with being a part of a large family—a large family who could be anywhere in half a blink. Ava seemed a bit more forgiving. "We upgraded," she explained. "Or rather, Lucifer upgraded us to a B&B. Better digs and yummy food in the morning. I think it was his way of saying 'sorry I made you believe you were going to be Mammon-chow for two thousand years'." Luxi nodded in approval. "Gotta say, the man knows how to say he's sorry." "Speak for yourself." Dante huffed. "Why is it you're here? If Lucifer's reneged on his deal—" "He's a man of his word." "Yeah. That's why they call him the Prince of Lies." Luxi scoffed, but Dante's misgivings were to be expected. The last time they'd met, she'd been the messenger of particularly bad news, and though a few weeks had passed since they parted ways, the wound would likely take more than a gift basket to heal. "No, I just ... guess I was jonesing for some Ava time." Any lingering hint of irritation on Ava's face melted away. "Oh, Lux," she sniffled. "I've missed you, too." Dante raised his hand. "I haven't." Perhaps the best tactic was to ignore him. "If this is a bad time, I can—" 61

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"Bad time? Are you serious?" The vampire huffed. "What possibly clued you in that this was a bad time?" Ava scowled and smacked his shoulder. "Be nice." "I was trying to be before she—" "Oh, go rub one out in the shower. I'll make it up to you later." Dante grumbled something and crawled to the other side of the bed, not bothering to conceal his nudity. It provided Luxi with a much-appreciated view of his ass before he disappeared into the bathroom. She maintained he was one of the sexiest undead bastards she'd ever seen, even if he was as far from her type as it got. Ava magicked on a T-shirt and a pair of sweats without leaving the bed. She looked so good—carefree in ways Luxi had never seen. There was a healthy glow in her cheeks and happiness in her eyes that seemed downright foreign. For a brief sliver of a second, Luxi entertained a regrettable rush of jealousy, which wasn't like her but unavoidable all the same. Ava had been the last of Lucifer's Sins to reach maturity, and her attitude through the bulk of her existence had been largely humorless. Seeing her now with flushed skin and a smile that refused to abate was wonderful ... even if it left a funny pain in Luxi's chest. "So what's the buzz?" Ava asked after the shower began running. "Everything all right?" "Everything's a bit weird, if you want the truth. Lucifer still hasn't put anyone on active duty." "What? But ... it's been weeks now." 62

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Luxi nodded. During the period of confusion surrounding the Sins' fate, as well as the mess with the Binsfeld Brigade— six demons who felt they deserved the honors of being the Deadly Sins—Lucifer had grounded all assignments and brought the pit to a screeching halt. Like most everyone else, Luxi had assumed things would return to normal—or as normal as they could—once the debacle with Ava was settled. It was another reason Invi had visited that morning, and largely why their brief discussion had rubbed Luxi the wrong way. She had no idea why she was chosen to break the silence, and she definitely didn't know why Lucifer had his eyes set on Grayson Bailey. Nothing made much sense right now. "Really?" Ava prodded. "No one's on assignment?" "Well, I am." Her sister paused. "You understand how what you said then was misleading?" Luxi shrugged. "My assignment makes about as much sense as a gay republican, so no." "What's the assignment?" "I'm shadowing some state senatorial candidate." Ava licked her lips. "And?" "And that's it. Lucifer set up a townhouse for me, gave me a backstory, and I'm supposed to show up and ... I dunno, intern." "No seducing the candidate?" "No." "Or his opponent?" Luxi shook her head. 63

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"No making him go gaga over some barely legal piece of ass?" "Actually, my direct orders were to do none of those things. I'm just supposed to make sure the campaign runs smoothly." She sighed, her head rolling back. "Damn it, Ava, I don't know what the hell I'm doing. Today was my first official day on the job, and other than going on for eight hours on whether or not I'm a secret hooker based on my wardrobe—" She spread her arms. "It was boring as fuck." The look she received was meant to be encouraging, but Luxi just felt annoyed, even if it was deserved. She knew for a fact Ava had learned that look from her. "That sucks," Ava summarized redundantly. "Thanks. I read that in yesterday's news." "And you're sure you're not supposed to spread 'em for campaign boy?" "I think I'd be crucified if I did," Luxi replied. "Oh, and he's a minister. A fucking minister. What the fuck?" "A minister." "In Missouri," she added. The shower shut off in the other room, coaxing a borderline hopeful glance from Ava in its direction. Luxi had to repress her gag reflex. Her sister in love was almost as insufferable as her sister moping around the pit. "Wow," the redhead said as she looked back. "Being you right now sounds like the opposite of appealing." "This is why I came here. Words of comfort." Ava threw her arms up. "Sorry. Don't know what you were looking for. Is he some old fart?" 64

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Luxi bit her lip, her mind flashing to Grayson's broad shoulders and killer smile. Not to mention the boner he'd attempted to hide behind his desk after he'd led her into his office. She didn't know what it was, but just thinking about his face did weird things to her body. Her legs insisted on wobbling, and while it would have been easy to focus on the butterflies in her stomach, she chose to chalk it up to the confusion surrounding the day. She was not going baby soft. Not over some human she couldn't even fuck. "Actually, he's pretty much sex on a stick," she replied. "I would undress him on stage in a crowded theatre with my teeth if I were allowed." Ava giggled. "Uhhh..." "But that won't be a problem." "I dunno. You're pretty much a victim of hot." "I'm also a professional," Luxi retorted. "For all I know, this is some way for Lucifer to see if I'm gonna pull a you and run off with the first Mr. Perfect I see." Her sister made a face. "Thanks for that. And to be fair, I ran off with the second. Well, mister. Not the second perfect. I got the first where that goes." The bathroom door opened, and Dante reentered the room with a timely, "And there's only one Mr. Perfect around." Luxi's stare lingered long enough to appreciate the way her sister's vampire wore his bath towel—low on the hips, leaving little to the imagination. Granted, since she'd already seen Dante nude several times, the imagination wasn't exactly needed, but visual representations were still appreciated. "Someone's full of himself," she muttered. 65

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Ava smirked. "Yes, he is ... but it doesn't help your case when you're ogling." "I'm not ogling." Dante held up his hands. "Now, now ... let's not get in a catfight over me. Wait until we find some mud or oil, then you girls can have at it." He chuckled and crawled onto the bed behind Ava, dropping a kiss on her shoulder. "Though if I'm judging, I'm gonna be a bit biased." "Luxi has a bogus assignment and wanted to bitch," Ava told him. "She's watching over some minister who's running for office in Missouri." "How's that bogus?" "She's not supposed to sex him or anyone up." Dante's eyebrows shot skyward. "Bummer." Luxi shrugged. "Could be worse," she said. "At least I have an assignment to keep me occupied. I'd rot out of boredom with nothing but time." "You implying something?" Ava asked dryly. "Naw. Vamps are sexual creatures, and you just recently discovered that rubbing your good place gives you happies." "We have an offer, thank you," the redhead replied indignantly. "Lucifer dropped in couple days back," Dante agreed. "With timing not much better than yours. Said something about bounty hunting." "Bounty hunting?" "Demons that escape the pit," Ava said. "And fallen angels. Lucifer wants to start grabbing everything. Who knows? Maybe he'll start holding the angels ransom." 66

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"Still don't get that." Dante shook his head. "Why ransom something the owner doesn't want? I figure these angels are fallen for a reason." "Big J's a big baby," Luxi said. "It's like if a kid has a toy he doesn't play with, he still doesn't want any other kid to have it." Ava nodded. "It's just a way for Lucifer to play finders keepers. Anyway, it's an as-we-go job. We don't have to take it, and if we do, we do what we want with it. Lucifer understands we want freedom." "And it sounds like fun, either way," the vampire said. Luxi smiled, though she had little feeling behind it. Whatever it was she'd come here looking for remained out of reach. She felt a little pathetic, and that was not a good color on her. Talking with Ava almost always put her in a good mood, regardless of the topic, but her sister was not the girl she'd been. She was wiser, happier, and detached from the revolving world. It was wonderful and depressing all at once. Luxi was a creature of habit; she didn't take kindly to change. Ava might still be here, but she was far, far away. "All right, kiddies," Luxi said. "Gonna split." "Let us know if you need anything," her sister replied. Dante nodded. "But fucking knock next time." "Don't worry. That's a lesson you only learn—" "We're in the teens now," Ava said sharply. "Stop while you're ahead." "Yeah, yeah, yeah." Luxi sighed and rubbed her arms as the scene shifted and away, her body floating through time 67

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and space until she found herself in the living area of her temporary home. The day had provided no answers. Perhaps if she slept hard enough, she'd wake up far from the strange world in which she found herself. It didn't seem likely, and though she could exist without air, Luxi didn't feel like holding her breath. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Five After racking up another couple thousand or so in credit card charges, Luxi felt sufficiently retail-therapied. She made some wardrobe choices she knew John couldn't bitch about without looking petty, and by the time she arrived at the townhouse the irritation she'd carried back from Mississippi had rolled into tired acceptance. The mantra of I am happy for my sister became harder to believe every time it crossed her mind, and the alternative made Luxi feel like the worst sort of bitch. For the part of her psyche detached from her own well-being, it was the truth. She did wish her sister joy, happiness, and whatever other sentiments Hallmark enjoyed shoving down consumers' throats. The rest of her mind, however, remained undecided. It was one thing to want something in theory; to have it fulfilled was a double-edged sword. Ava gaining confidence, a boyfriend, and her freedom was all well and good, but it left Luxi without her number one gal pal. And after a couple of thousand years relying on her sister's shoulder, adjusting to the pit without her would take more than a few weeks and a shitty assignment. Talk of change couldn't compare with the actual act. Whatever Luxi needed she'd need to get on her own. Ava was embarking on a new, exciting part of her life, and interfering for selfish reasons didn't paint Luxi in the best color. Besides, it wasn't as though Ava had left for good or anything. Things could have gone fuckload worse in Natchez; 69

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hell, Luxi had been certain Lucifer meant to destroy her favorite sister when she and the Sins gathered at Whytecliff. Everything had been in the air then; it wasn't now. The aftermath was always harder than the war—at least where it counted. Perhaps she should try to reconnect with Invi after all. They were the only two female Sins left representing the group. And Luxi loved Invi—she did—she just found it difficult to be around her for more than ten minutes at a time. There was a chance, though, that would change in time if Luxi put forth the effort. Invi had a definite Jan Brady complex, and she wasn't even the middle child. Either way, Luxi had resolved that tomorrow she would go to the Bailey campaign with a clear objective: do the job. Whatever it was Lucifer expected of her would either make itself obvious or pass, and the sooner she finished the assignment the better. Fun as it'd been for about an hour, rebelling at every turn hadn't done much to improve her situation. No, from now on she'd answer phones, type memos, get in front of cameras, and kiss babies—whatever it took to expedite the way to the finish line. Things would feel normal again soon. She just had to see it through. Luxi chose a frayed brown skirt the next day, complete with a soft pink tank top and a brown shrug that hugged her breasts. She wore her hair down and applied her makeup conservatively, choosing little more than powder, a hint of eye shadow and a soft lipstick that matched the splash of color on her outfit. Since her skirt extended past her knees, 70

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she'd evade criticism from John and, with any luck, survive the day unnoticed. Avoiding attention was foreign territory. She hoped she could go eight hours without combusting. The morning went smoothly. She strolled in with a quick nod to Nina, who blinked in surprise but managed an authentic smile in turn. John eyeballed her suspiciously before coughing something and returning to whatever he'd been doing. Grayson was out of the building until ten or so, meeting local business owners to address whatever concerns they presented regarding his plans for Missouri. It wasn't until lunchtime that anyone in the office spoke more than three syllables to Luxi about anything. "We're sending a volunteer on a lunch run." Luxi glanced from her computer screen to Nina's expectant face. "You taggin' me?" she asked. "No. John's nephew is looking for some bonus points on his transcript, so he's pretty much the errand bitch." Nina waved a twenty in Luxi's face. "What I wanted to do was get you a sandwich. What do you want from Sub-O-Rama?" She stared for a second. "You wanna get me lunch?" "Yes." "Why?" Nina shrugged. "Yesterday wasn't exactly the best display of my idea of a welcoming committee, and I contributed to that. I think you're nice—" "Nice?" "Yes." 71

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Luxi had been called many things over the years, and nice had not made the list. Still, she couldn't help but feel flattered and somewhat uncomfortable. Her line of work didn't allow for favors or random displays of generosity. "Well, okay," she replied at last, a numb sensation sweeping through her body. "Thanks." Nina grinned. "What would you like?" "I don't know. You said they have sandwiches?" "You go to school here and you've never been to Sub-ORama?" Another foreign sensation swept her insides. She felt wiggly and sheepish, and she didn't like it. "I ... ahhh, no. What's good there?" "Just about everything. I'm getting soup today, in a breadbowl." Luxi nodded, exhaling. "All right. I'll take that. The soup thing." The other woman's smile went supernova. "Great! Oh, this'll be fun. John wouldn't let me hear the end of it when I was the Sub-O-Rama virgin, and I at least had the excuse of not being from around these parts." "I'm not from around these parts, either." "Yeah, but you go to school here. Apparently there's some code among Springfield natives that gets thrown out of whack if their hometown hangouts aren't properly acknowledged." "Ah. One of those places." "Yeah," Nina continued, nodding. "The rally is next week, which includes a heavy endorsement and speech from Senator Clark, and that basically means John's about to lose 72

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his mind and the rest of us are just trying to survive. Sub-ORama and Andy's have pretty much been the source of our morale." "Andy's what?" "Oh god. Tell me you've at least been to Andy's." "I would." Luxi shrugged. "But my daddy told me to tell no lies." Nina's hand flew over her mouth. "Oh god," she muttered, then turned and shouted to the room, "Andy's run this afternoon!" The call was met with cheers. Apparently, an Andy's run was a good thing. "Two words," Nina said when she looked again to Luxi. "Frozen. Custard." Luxi grinned, and the funny tingly-sensation spread through her belly. She resisted the urge to rub it away, chalking it up to having never mingled among the humans enough to actually strike up non-sexual relationships. Not that Nina didn't hold appeal in that regard, but when left to her own devices, Luxi almost always selected men for bedmates. It was just the way Lucifer had created her. Granted, she had an appropriate appreciation of both genders, as there was no such thing as ordinary when it came to lust or her assignments. Luxi had no way of knowing whether Lucifer had even intended his Sins to want for themselves, or if their individual tastes and preferences were a result of two thousand years of personal evolution. In the end, it didn't really matter. Lucifer didn't prevent any of his subjects from exploring the material world at their leisure, 73

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and despite one or two fun romps with human females, Luxi found she preferred the penis. With the promise of frozen treats in the air, the office seemed to perk up a bit. John growled less and even complimented Luxi's penmanship when she delivered him a phone message. Grayson made it back around lunchtime and managed to catch the wrapped sandwich someone threw at his head. Before disappearing into his glass cubicle, he scoured the desks and stopped when he spied Luxi, and the bright smile with which he favored her could have outshone the sun. Had the man gotten prettier overnight? Was that possible? He looked deliciously rumpled but pristine and orderly at the same time. "Here," Nina said, plopping a brown sack onto Luxi's desk. "Mind if I join you?" "Hey, you bought." The blonde dragged up a seat. "Feel free to tell me to shove it if I crowd you," she said. "I just don't get a lot of time to socialize. Once John's on the warpath, none of us eat, drink or breathe anything but poll numbers until election day." She fished a plastic to-go box from the bag and set it under Luxi's nose. "I don't know many people around here, either. So hello! I'm your new best friend." Luxi shrugged. "I was in the market for one, anyhow." "Oh?" "Family stuff." Nina looked at her expectantly. Luxi expelled a deep breath and continued, "My sister just ran off 74

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with a guy. She was pretty much my BFF, but now I'm flyin' solo." "Oh, that's too bad." A flash of guilt coursed through her system. "Oh, fuck, no," Luxi said quickly. "Dante's a cutie, and he's nuts for Ava. It's not a bad thing. Just something I gotta get used to." She shifted uncomfortably. Talking about herself was not her forte, especially among people she couldn't be herself around. She'd better steer the conversation toward Nina and pronto. "So you and John bump uglies?" Nina's eyes widened and she froze in mid-chew. "Damn it," Luxi swore. "I'm sorry?" "Forget it. I suck at this." "What?" "This whole bein' around people who aren't my people thing," she said. "Don't get me wrong, you guys are great, but ... fuck, I don't know what he was thinking." Nina swallowed her bite and wiped her mouth. "Professor Pan?" "Yeah." "You're doing fine." "Except I rolled out the skankwear yesterday and made an ass outta myself when you went all sweet on me." Luxi cursed again. "Look, I don't—" "It's okay." "Shit, for you." Nina smiled kindly. "Really, it's okay. You should've seen me through my first campaign. I was a nervous wreck. 75

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Everything that could have possibly gone wrong did, and I was there making color commentary the entire time and sure everyone hated me. Thankfully, I got over it, because I couldn't imagine doing anything but this ... even if state senate is small-time politics compared to DC." Luxi pursed her lips. She wanted to respond, but was apprehensive about how her sentiment would twist itself. Word vomit had never been a problem in the past. She was really off her game—embarrassingly so. It was one thing yesterday when she'd gone in with a mind to ruffle things up; today was completely different. Being the good girl sucked, and shit, she didn't even know if that was her objective. Good girl, bad girl, obedient girl, campaign girl. If she reached the end of the week without coming to an understanding about her newfound role, she would have to schedule a meet with Lucifer and get all the cards on the table. Nina favored her with another one of those understanding smiles. It served as the proverbial punch to the gut. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable," she said, standing. "It takes a few days to get the hang of things around here. Let me know if there's anything I can do for you." Damn, now she'd gone and scared away the only person who'd shown her kindness. Well, except Grayson, but she had the small problem of wanting to throw her panties in his face every time she caught his eye, and that was a big no-no. Luxi cleared her throat, rising to her feet as Nina started back toward her own desk. "Wait." The blonde turned around. "You've been nice to me all day," Luxi said. 76

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Nina frowned. "Is that a problem?" "No, but I was a downright bitch to you yesterday. Why are you being so nice now? You should hate me. I'd hate me if I were you and not me, who you should hate." She paused, scowling. "I swear, in some universe, that sentence made sense." Nina favored her with an appreciative chuckle. "The first day at any job sucks," she explained. "Yours was made exceptionally worse by things you weren't prepared for. And I can tell you feel out of your element." "Oh." "Really, let me know if you need anything." Luxi settled back into her seat, numbness returning with a killer vengeance. She sat still for a quiet moment before glancing to the cooling lunch her new friend had provided. She knew how to deal with assholes. Assholes came with the territory, and there was little she enjoyed more than putting some righteous prick in their place. It'd be so much easier if everyone here was an asshole. Instead she had Nina, the super Barbie with a heart of gold. And Grayson, her very own living blow-up doll. If it weren't for John, she'd swear Lucifer was pulling a practical joke on her. She had to be doing that on purpose. Grayson knew it was insane—hell, he felt certifiable just thinking it. But every time he glanced up, he saw her perfect mouth sucking on a plastic spoon, and his already active imagination went into overdrive. 77

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She had to be doing that on purpose. Whatever was left of her frozen custard had been scraped from the plastic cup more than two minutes earlier. Not that he was watching, or anything. In fact, he knew he hadn't been watching because somehow he'd gotten through the last campaign call of the day, and he remembered using big words like "hereafter" and "therefore." His brain didn't work on a higher level whenever he was distracted, and if Luxi wasn't a distraction he didn't know what was. Grayson sighed, casting Luxi another glance. The Andy's cup was gone now, and she had turned her attention to sifting through the day's mail. If he knew what was good for him, he'd see about having her relocated to a corner where she wasn't in his line of view, or better yet, a different building altogether. This was only her second day and his focus was already off balance. He'd looked John square in the eye last night and promised his interest in the girl only ran so far as her ability to sell the campaign. Whether or not he'd known he was lying was a different story; either way, he knew the truth now. Grayson wanted Luxi. Okay. There was nothing wrong with that. Men wanted women every day. It was a part of life. The way God made him—quite literally. Adam and Eve wouldn't have covered up in the Garden had they not felt a magnetic pull toward one another, and true, while Grayson hadn't felt such a pull since Amily signed the divorce papers, that didn't make it unnatural or something of which to be ashamed. In fact, it was healthy. Good for him, even. Finally, after the emotional devastation 78

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and public humiliation that was his former marriage, Grayson had found a woman he didn't regard as a sister, friend, or soul-crushing she-bitch. Which was surprising, quite frankly, as nothing about Luxi seemed safe. Even today with her demure outfit and innocent expression, she screamed raw, animal sexuality. The sort of girl who lost complete control in bed, if only to hide something that had been broken long ago. Yes, she looked broken, but in a beautiful, albeit tragic way. And Grayson wanted—needed—to know more. More of her and her family, more of the god she didn't like but couldn't help but believe in. More of the reason she'd come here looking for trouble one day and sulked away in a corner the next, determined to go unnoticed. Perhaps he'd take her to dinner tonight. Grayson caught himself before it could blossom into a plan, then shook his head and forced his attention to his desk, chuckling in spite of himself. He could already hear John screaming the latest version of the Riot Act just at the thought, and in fairness, his campaign manager had a decent point. The rally was next week and the election less than a month away, and even if he managed to pull a miracle out of the poll numbers, there would still be plenty of time to address his personal life. A month wasn't forever to wait. Hell, Amily had been out of his life for a couple years now, and he hadn't so much as acquired a girl's number in the interim. If his attraction to Luxi was truly more than campaign stress, there was no harm in waiting. 79

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No harm. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. "Boss?" His head whipped up and his eyes widened. Luxi now stood in his doorway, an envelope in her hand and John at her side. Both looked somber. Grayson hadn't even noticed her leave her desk. If he didn't know better, he'd swear she'd teleported. "Hey," he said, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Something wrong?" John pursed his lips and took a step inside. "You need to see this," he said, waving Luxi forward. Grayson nodded, looking to the envelope. "I'm guessing not a campaign donation." "No," Luxi said. Her skin seemed paler and the bounce he'd witnessed yesterday had vanished. She didn't look upset, just uneasy, as though she'd been asked a question in a foreign language and was expected to answer. She set the envelope on his desk. It was plain enough, bulged in the middle, and his name was sprawled inelegantly across the front. He would have assumed a child had written to the campaign as a social studies assignment were the air not so thick. "What's this?" Grayson asked stupidly. His fingers slid inside the opened sleeve and grazed something sleek and metallic. Ice seared his veins. "This was with it," Luxi said, holding up a note. The eerie calmness of her voice shook him almost more than what fell into his hand. "'Looking forward to the rally, you liberal 80

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faggot. Have about a thousand friends who can't wait to meet you.'" Grayson barely heard her. His focus was on the rifle bullet. The cold killer sitting in his palm. A name was engraved along the side. His name. "Time to start talking security," John said. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Six The door to Lucifer's private office was manned by Lucian, who likewise served as Lucifer's double whenever his presence was needed at some event the Prince of Lies did not wish to personally attend. Not many subjects were privy to the knowledge that Lucifer even had a private office—the one to which most were granted audience often changed over the generations in appearance to resemble whatever place of authority was most iconic for the time. Presently, the public office was a mockup of a well-known oval in Washington, DC. Luxi usually took time to flirt with Lucian, whose height, lean, muscular build and curly brown hair made her flush whenever he flashed her a grin, but she was in no mood today. She stopped short of his desk and crossed her arms. "I need to see him." Lucian glanced up, his face warming. "Oh, hey, Lux. I thought you were upstairs with some senator or whatever." "Or whatever," she replied shortly. "I need to see him." "The boss?" "No, Elvis. Did I pick the wrong line?" She rolled her eyes. "Yes, the boss. I need in." "You know I can't do that." "No, I know that's a crock of shit and my asking you is just me being polite." Luxi's eyes narrowed and her shoulders tensed. Whether or not she outdid Lucian on the pay scale was a matter of conjecture; while the Sins were indeed Lucifer's favored children and mostly regarded as the heirs of 82

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Hell, Lucian at times displayed powers that had everyone in the pit collecting their jaws off the floor. "Now are you going to open the door or do I have to move you and do it myself?" Lucian leaned back. "He said you'd do this." "Do what?" "Come up here all fired up." "Well, fuck me sideways, Lucian, he is a deity and all." "Tempting," Lucian replied. "But I still can't let you in." Luxi flexed her fists, which crackled with hot red strands of electricity. "All right, option B it is." The door flew open at that, revealing a slightly bemused Lucifer on the other side. He regarded her for a long moment, pursed his lips, and gestured in welcome. "Thank you, Lucian," said the devil. "I can take it from here." "Damn straight you can," Luxi muttered. "Ah ah. None of that." Lucifer's gaze darkened, but only slightly. The jovial spark in his expression took more than just an irate Sin to quell. "Lucian was just doing his job." "Lucian can kiss my ass." "A privilege many would kill for. Inside, Luxuria." Sizzling with anger or not, Luxi knew when to stop pressing her luck. Therefore she managed to abstain from slapping her backside as she passed. She also refrained from slamming the door behind her. Lucifer sat on the edge of his desk, his arms crossed expectantly. "I hear you wish to speak with me?" "You might have been upfront." His brows domed. "About what?" "The bullet came today." 83

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"I assure you, this is news to me." Luxi huffed and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "I just don't get it. I'm not security detail, you know, but hey, an order's an order. It just seems polite to let someone know what the fuck they're doing on assignment." "Are you quite finished?" "What the hell do you want me to do with this? 'Cause if I'm there to make sure that bullet finds its target—" "Quiet." His tone had reverted from good-humored to don't-fuck-with-the-boss. Luxi fell silent. "Now," Lucifer said slowly, holding up a finger. "First, to your accusation that I have placed you in Missouri as some security detail for a local candidate...well, I'd hope you'd have a little more faith in me than that." She pursed her lips. "Secondly." A second finger sprang up. "The bullet you received—" "So you did know about it." "Grown-ups are talking now. Wait your turn." Luxi's gaze hit the floor, properly chastised. "Sorry." "The bullet you received today has nothing to do with your assignment. You are not, as I said, to protect or encourage any assassination attempt placed on Grayson Bailey's life. You're merely there to enact the job I gave you. Thirdly, I do not appreciate being barraged like this. If you have an objection or concern, you are to go through the proper channels of arranging a meeting." Lucifer shrugged. "I'm a very busy fellow, you know." 84

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Proper channels when on assignment meant first contacting Pixley, the curator of the Unholy Damned and Hell's largest library. It was also the location where, among other things, records, receipts and the pit's ever-growing occupancy list were kept. The curator likewise had the unenviable task of arranging meetings between dimensions. Luxi shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Would you believe Pixley was busy?" "Pixley's always busy, yet it seems to not affect her job performance." Lucifer sighed. "Your orders remain the same. Other than this, I trust you have no other matters to bring up?" She wet her lips. "No." "Are you experiencing any difficulty?" "No." Lucifer nodded. "And how do you find Grayson? I've heard he is a decent man." "He's a very good man," she said, then cursed. Those words were foreign on her lips; she hadn't realized she actually held that opinion until it was too late to reconsider. Yet it was the truth, and in the words of Flannery O'Connor, good men were hard to find. She had yet to detect an air of falsehood in Grayson's words or actions. He seemed genuine in each endeavor, including the halfhearted attempts at humor after she and John approached him about the death threat. She'd been terrified Lucifer wanted Grayson dead. While she would follow any order, that would be one she'd regret. If 85

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Grayson died, he'd almost assuredly go up, and she'd never see him again. The thought stung more than it should. "At any rate, I am glad you decided to pop in," Lucifer said. "Saves me a trip." "What?" "I have decided to throw Avaritia and her vampire a reception." "You have?" Lucifer shrugged. "Just my way of telling Dante welcome to the family and no hard feelings for making him think I wanted him dead." "How generous." "I'm a generous guy," the devil agreed. "It's in my nature. Furthermore, he is one of us now." "He is?" "Well, in spirit at least. I have also offered—" "The bounty-hunting gig. Yeah, Ava told me." "You interrupted me again." "What can I say, Boss, you made me this way." He smirked. "Quite. The reception will be in Natchez day after tomorrow, seven o'clock." "Yeah, okay." "It would mean the world to your sister," he noted. "I'll be there." The campaign office typically closed down around five o'clock, leaving her without an excuse to not show up. Not that she would look for one—no matter how strange her world felt at the moment, Luxi knew Ava wanted her there. 86

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"Damn straight you will." Lucifer slipped off his desk. "Now, toddle off. As I said, I'm a very busy devil and you have company." "I what?" He patted her shoulder, which strangely rocked her on her heels and made her head thunder. She barely had time to question what had happened before he hit her again. Her temples pounded and the floor shifted. When his hand came down the third time, the office spiraled and disappeared, and then she was standing in her temporary home in Springfield. And someone was knocking on the door. Luxi frowned and shook her head. "Company," she murmured, marching for the door. "Got it." For whatever reason, even though she knew a grand total of three people in this town, she was still surprised to see Grayson standing on her porch, a sack full of what looked to be Chinese takeout in his hand and a knee-weakening smile on his face. "I tried to call, but you didn't answer." He held up the food. "Hungry?" She stared at him blankly. "Or not." "I...err, sorry. What are you doing here?" "Dinner." "Is this something we set up before I left? 'Cause honestly, I must've been really out of it." Grayson shook his head. "No, I... I just wanted to make sure everything was all right. With what happened today..." Luxi blinked. "I'm not the one who got the death threat." And it wouldn't matter if she did, as bullets in this realm were about as deadly as chocolate sprinkles. 87

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"No, but you were the one who opened the mail." The light in Grayson's eyes dimmed a bit, as though just realizing she might have already eaten or not been in the mood to have visitors. He lowered his hand and exhaled deeply. "I... sorry. I didn't mean to invite myself over. I just thought you might want... I don't know." Luxi wet her lips. "Did John sign your permission slip?" "It's really for the better if he never finds out about this." She grinned and gestured in welcome. "As long as you don't care that I live like a pig, make yourself at home." The thousand-watt smile returned at full force. Damn, but the man was pretty. "I really don't mean to intrude—" "Well, if you're gonna split, at least leave the food with me. Girl's gotta eat." Grayson shrugged and stepped over the threshold. "Hope you like cashew chicken. You're not from around here and not many people get it." "Cashew chicken?" "Have you not had it yet?" "Uhh, yeah. Out west." "Out west, but not here. Springfield-style cashew chicken is something you can't get anywhere else." Seemingly unaware of the mess, Grayson maneuvered over the piles of clothing and trash left by the previous tenant—which Luxi had helpfully strewn across the apartment the night before in a half-hearted attempt to vent her frustration—and managed to locate the kitchen table. "It's about as healthy as lard, but damn if it's not delicious." "Yum." 88

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He glanced up with another grin. "I can tell you're not sold. Let me put it this way: Canton Inn is a sacred institution and the egg rolls are most assuredly crafted by the angels themselves." Luxi snickered. "Or demons," Grayson amended. "Depending on whether or not you're trying to avoid the calories." A few bites later, she had an answer for him. Springfieldstyle cashew chicken was undeniably one of her brother Gula's concoctions. Though gluttony was not limited to food, rather over-indulgence of any kind, Gula loved coming up with new culinary creations. Fried chicken bites smothered in fatty sauce was definitely something her mischievous brother would sic on the Midwest. Still, Luxi couldn't deny it was tasty. Addictively so. They settled on the sofa after finagling some plates. It felt cozy, and she wasn't accustomed to cozy. The warm, homey sensation was one to which a girl could get addicted if she wasn't careful. "So," she said, swallowing a mouthful of chicken, "to what do I really owe the pleasure?" Grayson looked at her askance, a freckle of rice sticking to his lower lip. She had the annoying urge to lick it off. "What do you mean?" "You're here when you should be somewhere else." "Where else?" She shrugged. "I dunno. You got a girl somewhere, right? Cute young thing like you has to have some sugar on the side." 89

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Grayson's cheeks dimpled under his grin. "I'm cute?" "Oh, fuck me sideways." "Better not say things like that around mixed company. You're lucky I'm a gentleman." Luxi smirked. "Dunno. I like a man who knows how to ride." That got a blush out of him, and she enjoyed watching him wiggle uncomfortably for a few seconds before cutting him a break. "Seriously. Why aren't you snuggled up with your honey somewhere?" "If I had one, I wouldn't be here." That didn't come as a surprise, which honestly should have bothered her. Luxi had been around long enough to know most men had the same sense of fidelity; that being love and sex were mutually exclusive, and sometimes the missus didn't enjoy being fucked the way her husband really wanted to fuck her. More than that, Big J had created humans with a need to populate Earth with as many pint-sized versions of themselves as possible. Sex was made for reproducing, and multiple partners meant more potential for children. Evolutionary scientists had the bulk of their study down pat; it was just the exclusion of the cosmic designer that kept their work from being completely accurate. Love to the exclusion of one person was, relatively speaking, a modern convention. Luxi had witnessed, encouraged and participated in enough group-love scenes to know ... but there was something welcoming about the idea of soul mates. A perfect one to complement the self. It was a bunch of horseshit, but a girl could fantasize. 90

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Especially when her station in Hell revolved around receiving and instigating the mechanics of sex without exploring the emotional plateaus she'd heard could be reached. Still, knowing as little as she did about Grayson Bailey, his warmth and sincerity had her taking him at face value. She'd never trusted anyone's word just because they seemed like a standup citizen, and whatever had her singing a different tune now was dangerous—especially given the way she burned whenever their eyes met. While he might embody the physical requirements of her ideal man, he was snowwhite on the purity level whereas she couldn't go two seconds without an adulterated thought or urge. It had never bothered her before. After all, she was a Sin. Being dirty was a part of the gig. "I came by to make sure you're all right," Grayson said at last. "With what happened today." "The bullet? You mentioned that already. I'll say it again; it was your name on the envelope, not mine." "Yeah, but I'm a politician." Luxi's eyes narrowed. "And impervious to death threats?" "I knew what I was signing up for." "Somehow I doubt this was in the brochure." Grayson shrugged. "My fault for not reading the fine print." She huffed and settled further into the cushions. "How the hell did you end up doing this, anyway?" "Eating? I've been doing it all my life." "Jackass." Grayson chuckled and stabbed a piece of chicken. "It's John's fault. He's been saying for years I ought to run for 91

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office, and I had no idea how to proceed. I didn't even know if I wanted to. But this community is so divided, and those who don't fit in with Springfield's definition of tradition feel like they don't have a voice. I've lost count of how many people have approached me after a sermon to thank me for offering a place of worship where they didn't have to feel ostracized or were being told who they are or who they love is sinful." Luxi pursed her lips and nodded. He continued, "The turning point was Ralph Truman. Eighty-eight-year-old man who lost his partner, Frank, to cancer in '09. They'd been together for sixty some-odd years when Frank passed. Once his church found out, Ralph was asked by the deacons to not return." "The church didn't know?" He shook his head. "Frank was an atheist, and Ralph was a very private man who came to church on Sundays, morning and evening, and even for Wednesday night services when he could manage. He donated to the collection basket and sponsored the youth ministry on their mission trips. The obituary ran and named him as Frank's partner. To make a long story short, Ralph answered honestly when asked about his relationship and started coming to Brentwood after they gave him the boot. I didn't notice him until after one of my more ... let's just say, polarizing sermons. He came up to me, tears running down his face, took my hand and thanked me." Grayson exhaled, his gaze growing distant. "He'd never felt welcome anywhere. He was a man of God whose only crime was loving someone. They were together over half a century. Over half a century. I can't..." He broke off and sighed again. "Ralph passed last year, but he... Yeah, for men like him, I 92

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wanted to run. Make sure people knew not all of us who read our Bibles think that you have to talk, dress, act and think a certain way before you're considered one of Jesus' children." Luxi didn't say anything. She didn't really know what to say. Talking theology with someone who didn't know who she was or from where she came was, like so many other things of late, unfamiliar territory. As it was, the human men of her past weren't the sort who craved philosophical conversations. However, the fire in Grayson's eyes was something no one could forge. The conviction, the certainty, the drive to do what he felt was right—something in her chest twisted, and the air around her head became light. "What about you?" Grayson asked. "What?" "What drew you to politics?" She laughed. "Nothing. I don't know why I'm here." It was the only thing she'd said since arriving here that was completely honest. Instead of fighting her, he shrugged and said, "Must've been my unreasonably good looks." "Must have been." "You've never come to see me preach?" "I don't go to church." Not unless she was forced. "But you've already said you're not an atheist." "No. I just don't like the guy I believe in." Luxi didn't elaborate and he didn't press the issue. It was for the best; she didn't know if she'd be able to keep her opinions to herself. Big J was many things to many people, and while she'd never met the man, she knew enough from 93

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Lucifer to know they wouldn't get along. The guy was supposed to be infinitely compassionate, but when approached by his closest friend about allowing leniency on the older souls in Hell, he'd promptly refused. Some righteous compassion. No, the wrathful, angry, proud Lord who killed the Egyptians' first born and commanded Abraham to sacrifice his son was the reputation she knew, even if it was before her time. Whether or not the birth of his own child had softened him up was a matter of debate. All she knew was Lucifer had once been very close with him, but that time was over. And anyone who couldn't get along with Lucifer, even when he had his head up his ass, wasn't worth the effort in Luxi's book. "Hey ... you all right?" She glanced up. "What?" "You kinda spaced out just then." "Oh." She attempted a faint smile, but her heart wasn't in it. "Yeah, sorry." "No, don't apologize. I just..." Grayson paused and looked down. "I don't even know what I'm doing here." "Bringing me food?" "There's just something about you." "There's nothing about me." "No, there really is. You're very special, Luxi." Her throat tightened. "Grayson—" "And I know I'm not the first guy to say it, and I promise it's not a line or anything. I didn't come over here to be the sleazy politician—hell, I don't even know what prompted me 94

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to do this at all." He sighed again. "I haven't talked to anyone in a long time." "You talk to people every day." "Not like this. There's a difference between this and arranging a press conference. God, you just impress the shit out of me." She had the outrageous urge to laugh. "Grayson, you've known me for two days, one of which was spent defending my wardrobe and the other you received a death threat." "Yeah, and look how you handled both situations." "I tore John a new one." "He needs that to happen more often." Luxi shrugged. "Okay, that's fair." "And then today, you didn't scream. You didn't make a scene. You did exactly what you should have done." "Bullets aren't scary. It's the motherfucker holding the gun who's scary." "You impress the shit out of me," Grayson said again. "I don't know what to say beyond that." Something changed then—as though a switch in her head flipped and activated a sense of self she hadn't known existed. Not once had thoughts of obligation faded, had her job become secondary; not once had the bells and whistles of her inner nature been overpowered by white noise. Luxi moved without thinking, her fingers tingling with the need to feel his skin. The remainder of her cashew chicken spilled onto her lap as she climbed onto his, but she didn't care. She just needed. 95

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In two thousand years, no one had ever looked at her the way Grayson did. No one had ever looked at her for anything but her breasts or what she did once she had a man on his back. No one had ever listened to her—ever questioned her words beyond the script she was issued or asked about her welfare with genuine concern. No one had bought her dinner without the expectation of getting their dick sucked at the end of the night. And though she knew she shouldn't, Luxi trusted Grayson when he said he'd come here just to make sure she was all right—that the day's events hadn't spooked her. In her world, everything was physical. Love was reserved for her siblings, affection for her friends and boss, and nothing in touch had any higher meaning. Until now. Until realizing just feeling him against her had skin buzzing and her hands trembling. Holy shit. Luxi had only been scared—truly scared—once, and that had occurred just weeks before when she thought she might lose Ava forever. Now, finding herself astride Grayson, and his wide brown eyes threatening to swallow her whole, she couldn't keep her body from shaking. "Luxi..." Words would ruin it, and she wasn't ready for the spell to break. Determined to beat the silence, Luxi closed the space between them and her mouth found his. At first he fell still beneath her, stoic and unresponsive even as she nipped and nibbled, tracing his lower lip with her tongue and imploring him entrance. Then, slowly, he sighed and opened to her, 96

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returning her soft strokes with light, feathery touches. Luxi's hands found his shoulders, gripping him tightly, and then she lost all sense of self. Kisses of the past had been nothing like this—all sex and promise, grinding against cocks as a prelude to the good stuff. Never before had a kiss itself been the good stuff, and though she couldn't keep herself from writhing against his growing erection, there was no want of anything else. She needed it real, and Grayson tasted as real as they came. "We're making a mess," he whispered when their lips parted. He was right. What remained of their takeout had mashed between them, but fuck, she didn't care. She just needed him. "Kissing stopped," she replied breathlessly. Grayson pulled her down again, his mouth more aggressive now. Yet even still he didn't demand, rather guided. He didn't take, but encouraged. His hands had found her cheeks, thumbs stroking soft circles into her skin. Whether or not he realized he was thrusting his cock against her center was beyond her, but she didn't care. Rather, she took him by the wrists and placed his hands on her breasts, grinning as he sighed into her. Careful—he was so careful. So mindful not to push or offend. So careful... Yearning unlike anything she'd felt swept through her veins, heat pooling between her legs. In easy seconds, she could be impaled on his cock, squeezing him cross-eyed as she rode him to oblivion. She needed his hands on her bare skin, fingers exploring her pussy and strumming her clit. She 97

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needed his mouth on her breasts, his cock pushing inside her body. She needed him, and Luxi never needed anything. "Luxi," Grayson murmured, fingers tunneling through her hair. "God..." The haze cleared and the clouds parted. At once, everything came rushing back. Pressure rose in her chest and fell again. Oh shit. Oh motherfucking shit. This wasn't right. Nothing about this was right. Luxi tore her lips from his, blinking rapidly. "Oh god!" "Oh god? That didn't sound like a good oh god." "Shit." "What's wrong?" Grayson frowned. His hair was ruffled, his eyes burning, his lips swollen, and his erection pulsing beneath her. Every cell in her body protested, but somehow Luxi managed to disentangle herself from his embrace, ignoring the heat between her legs and the ache in her groin. God, she'd lost herself and lost herself but good. "I... You need to leave." "What?" Her jaw hardened. "We can't do this." He looked at her for a long moment before breaking away, nodding. "Yeah. I'm sorry. You're just so ... something, and I got carried away. I thought—" "No, don't be. That was me. All me." Luxi balled her hands into fists. "This is a bad idea." Grayson laughed in protest. "I know that. Most bad ideas feel amazing." "Not that amazing." "Well, thank you." 98

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"This isn't—look, you better get outta here." The frown returned. "Luxi, I didn't mean to—" "I'm not good enough." That statement earned a blank stare. She didn't blame him. She hadn't known the thought existed until it rolled off her tongue, though she should have. She should have questioned Grayson's attraction to her for its authenticity. After all, generating lust in humans was a part of the gig, the reason she existed. There was a very good chance Grayson found himself entranced for no reason other than it was the way Lucifer had fashioned her. Men experienced lust on a day-to-day basis, and though her curves were designed to appeal to human sexuality, the fact that he wanted her might well be due to the fact that she couldn't switch herself off. It made sense, actually. She was the opposite of Grayson's type, and though most people would appreciate her aesthetically, she wasn't naive enough to think his interest went further than her appearance. He might think it did under the influence of her inherent glamour, but the truth wasn't as flattering. Sugar and spice and everything nice—that was the sort of girl he belonged with. Not a creature born in Hell. Not someone as damaged as her. "Where in the world did that come from?" he demanded at last. "It's true." "No, it's not. I can understand if I pushed you too far or if this is too fast, but don't you dare say you're not good enough." Luxi's eyebrows perked. "Don't I dare?" 99

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"Yes, don't you dare." "Grayson, you know shit about me." "That's not true." He held up a hand and began counting off. "You're courageous. You're witty—" "You're basing that off two fucking days?" "And you like interrupting people." Luxi had to laugh at that. It was the second time she'd heard it tonight. "Look, I like you." "Good." He all but spat the word. "I like you, too. A lot. And we're both adults, here. I'm divorced and unless you tell me otherwise, I'll presume you're unattached." There was a thick pause. "I won't ask anything from you but the truth. Tell me you have a boyfriend or some guy back home. Tell me to get the hell outta here or slap me for doing something inappropriate, but this not good enough thing is horseshit." "Fine." She heaved in a breath. "I need you to leave." "Luxi—" "You wanted the truth and there it is. I'm sorry. You're the first decent guy I've met and I can't fuck this up. Sorry ... sorry for that, sorry for pouncing you, and sorry for the blue balls, but I can't have you here." Can't tempt myself. She marched to the door and threw it open. "Please." If Grayson had a retort he kept it to himself, though it didn't make the air any less uncomfortable. Yet he maintained his dignity, even with desire in his eyes, an obvious erection in his pants, and smeared cashew chicken on his shirt. "Good night, Luxi," he said, and walked out without another word. [Back to Table of Contents] 100

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Chapter Seven Grayson had waged a private war with himself ever since Luxi strode into the office that morning. She hadn't so much as tossed him a curious glance, and though he knew he should be grateful she had stopped him last night before things grew out of hand, he couldn't silence the angry devil in his chest demanding he discover how the honey between her thighs tasted. She was the wrong sort of woman at the wrong time, and damn it, he was beyond helping himself. Something told him John knew his mind wasn't in the room. His friend had been raging for the last God-knows-howlong about something-or-other, and though Grayson knew it was in his best interest to listen, he couldn't tear his focus away from the lack of attention Luxi was paying him. The part of his brain dedicated to reason and accountability understood he should live and let live, but last night had been the best and worst of his life in quite some time, and that was saying something. He didn't remember feeling desperate when Amily touched him—he didn't remember the fire or the heat, or the aching desperation when her lips pulled away from his. "And then Santa Claus ran away with my pet goat, Moonpie." "That's nice," Grayson said, flexing his hand into a fist. "You're not paying attention, are you?" He glanced up. "What makes you say that?" "The fact that you're not paying attention." John cursed and ran a hand through his hair. "Could you do me a favor, 101

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please, and get your head out of your ass? I just spent three hours on the phone last night convincing Clark not to pull out, and—" "Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Clark's thinking of pulling out?" Senator Richard Clark was the star speaker of the rally; his endorsement served as a sign to voters that Grayson was a serious candidate. Furthermore, given Clark's popularity in this region, despite his politics, it would almost assuredly give Grayson a much-needed boost in the polls. "This because of the death threat?" John didn't look impressed. "Wow, Grayson, welcome to the conversation. I've only been on about this for the past twenty minutes. Where have you been?" "I did something stupid last night." "You're doing something stupid right now." "You said you convinced him not to pull out?" "Yeah, because of your dedication, sincerity, and how you're handling the threat like a professional." John crossed his arms. "You are taking this seriously, aren't you?" "Yes." "'Cause I'd hate to have just spent taxpayer money getting elimination prints from everyone in the office if you weren't serious." "It's my life, John. I think I'm serious." "You think? True or false: you are aware someone has literally said he has a bullet with your name on it?" "I was here for that." Grayson crumbled and threw a desperate glance in Luxi's direction. She was absorbed in totaling the deposits from campaign donations and seemingly 102

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unaware he existed, much less that her presence had compromised his focus. "I also have faith in the fact that because of said death threat, I'm going to be standing on a podium surrounded by men with guns. If someone fires—" "The thing is we don't want it to get to that point." "The senator shouldn't have anything to worry about. It's me they want dead." "Yeah, because a US senator is small potatoes compared to a local candidate." Grayson snickered. "Now you're saying I'm not important enough to assassinate. Make up your mind." "I don't wanna find out," John retorted. "That's the point. So, at the rally you're gonna be shadowed by a big guy with a gun." "Who?" "I don't care who, but he's gonna be built like a linebacker. I called in a few Washington favors and they're sending someone who was in Clinton's secret service." "Secret service?" "Was, as in not now. You're not that important." John crossed his arms. "So what'd you do that was stupid?" Grayson hesitated. Confessing his crime to his campaign manager would make everything real—the whole damn night. Going to see Luxi with some flimsy excuse he'd pieced together on the way to her front porch. Unloading his ideology on her over fried rice and egg rolls. Thrusting his cock against her clad pussy as she gyrated against him, sucking on her tongue and palming her breasts ... and the inevitable fall of her sudden dismissal. 103

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"Oh god," John muttered, horrified. He glanced up. "What?" "Tell me you didn't." Grayson gestured emphatically. "What?" "Shit, you did." "Did what?" "You and Ms. Daimon out there did the horizontal mambo." "The horizontal mambo?" John nodded. "You did. Goddamn it, Grayson, how stupid are you?" "I graduated at the top of my class." "You wouldn't know it." He frowned. "We didn't have sex, so you can stop being a dick." "In a Clinton way or in an actual way?" "What?" "In what way did you not have sex?" "In an actual way." Grayson exhaled deeply, leaning back in his seat. "I went to her place last night." "This is not helping me believe you." "I wanted to make sure she was all right." "All right?" "She found a bullet in the mail on her second day, after you were an irredeemable ass to her on her first day. I'm the guy she's here to help, and I wanted to make sure she was all right." He hoped the words sounded half as good in actuality as they did in his head; at the moment, Grayson was winging it. "I got some takeout and showed up on her doorstep." "And that's all?" 104

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"No." John groaned. "Of course not." "She kissed me." "She kissed you." "Yes." "And you promptly told her she's an intern and you're not one of those politicians." Grayson nodded. "Yes, yes. Of course I did that. Except, no. I kissed her back." "God, I hate you so much right now." "To be fair, I know that." "Do you have any idea—no, of course you don't." John shook his head. "Jesus, Grayson, she might've been planted here." "Planted?" "Yeah. Walter Church is not above sending in prostitutes to tempt the candidate." "Let me take this moment to remind you that I'm running for state senate, not president, and this isn't Washington. She's not a plant and she's not a hooker; she's a girl who was sent here by her professor to do a job." "You're not the job." "She stopped it," Grayson said. "She also started it." "Yes, but she stopped it, said it was a bad idea, and asked me to leave." John looked slightly placated. "Well, there's that, at least." "Thank you." "For her, not you. You're not off the hook." 105

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"Of course not." "What on earth were you thinking?" Grayson sighed heavily. There was no clear way to answer the question when he didn't know, himself. Everything had seemed perfectly logical up until tasting her lips. At the very least, he could rationalize his intentions and worry later as to whether or not they conflicted with reality. Somehow he didn't think John would respond well if he explained that a girl he'd known for barely two days strangely made him feel more alive than he had in the years he'd spent playing the dutiful husband to Amily. How he saw in Luxi so much of himself, it made him question everything about the man he was and the man he wanted to be. She kept a mask in place, hiding pain and distrust behind apathy and a sassy mouth. Yet anyone bothering to look beyond the surface would find an open wound—something she'd broken or lost long ago and never bothered to fix. She was lonely and isolated, lacking faith though swimming in it all at once. He wanted to help her find herself—show her there was more to her than even she gave credit. Last night she'd told him she wasn't good enough, that on some cosmic scale she couldn't meet his standards. Grayson didn't know what she'd done to him, but it was something. Something powerful—something for which he hadn't searched and most certainly hadn't anticipated. It was insane to assert so much could change in a couple days, especially with the limited interactions they'd had, but he was good at reading people. And something about Luxi Daimon kept calling him home. 106

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The last time he'd felt a stirring like this in his chest, he'd become a minister. Thus far, his intuition hadn't steered him wrong. A subtle knock snapped him back to the present. Luxi stood in the doorway. "Hey," she said awkwardly. For his part, John seemingly located his ill-gotten tact and refrained from saying anything offensive. Instead, he cleared his throat. "We have a conference call with the senator in an hour." "I know," Grayson said. "Rally schedule and the like." "Right." Luxi held up a hand. "Don't bust up the party on my account. I was just gonna say I won't be in tomorrow." Grayson's eyes narrowed. "You won't?" "It's last minute," she continued, nodding. "My sister, umm, eloped, and now there's a reception and stuff. I gotta motor to Mississippi. I would've mentioned yesterday as soon as I knew, but with the death threat and all—" "Understandable," John said, his tone much too levelheaded. "Why don't you just call it a week and come back Monday?" "What?" Grayson demanded. "Well, it makes sense." John turned to him. "Trip to Mississippi? You'd have both jet and hick lag ... and that's coming from a guy who grew up in Missouri. No reason for her to come in all tired and stuff." Luxi smiled, though the look on her face spoke more for general amusement than agreement. "Yeah. The trip can be rough." 107

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"It's a wedding reception?" Grayson asked. "I guess. Lu-Luc wasn't too specific, just said to be there or Ava would take it personally." "I'm guessing that's the sister," said John. "Right," she agreed. "I'll go with you." Luxi's eyes went wide and John's jaw fell slack. They both stared at him for an uncomfortable amount of time. "What?" Luxi finally asked. John was less subtle. "Go? Are you outta your fucking mind?" Grayson's cheeks burned and he directed his gaze downward. Honestly, he hadn't planned on saying anything— the words escaped before he had a chance to approve their intent. Even so, though, the longer the idea lived the more he liked it. Get out of town, forget the campaign for a day or two, visit somewhere new... Get Luxi to himself. He wasn't a complete idiot, even if recent events indicated otherwise. He understood his thoughts and actions were insane. Ever since Luxi had sashayed through the door, he had lost whatever grasp on logic he'd once possessed. Now here he was, day three into their newfound acquaintance and doing something highly irrational just for the sake of want. Never before had he acted on impulse rather than order and discipline, and once—just once—he wanted to taste a sample of living a little more loosely.

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Granted, this close to the rally—not to mention election— was likely the wrong time to develop a need for spontaneity and adventure. Damn it, though, he didn't care. His head wasn't doing the thinking. "I'll go," Grayson repeated, his tone level as though he'd made the world's soundest argument. "With what happened yesterday and all, it might be good for me to head out of town for the weekend." "This is serious," John said. "You're serious." "You're serious?" Luxi echoed. "Yes, I'm serious. I'll go. It'll be refreshing." John whimpered. "There is a chance, however small, that I'm dreaming. Please let me be dreaming." Grayson ignored him. "I presume you're flying," he said to Luxi. "What flight?" "Uhhh..." "You don't mind, do you?" For whatever reason, the notion she might object to his brazenly inviting himself along hadn't occurred to him until now. At least he had the decency to feel self-conscious. "I really could use a few days away from the office. Just to clear my head." "Seems redundant," John said. "Your head has nothing left in it." Luxi inclined her head. "I guess it's okay." She frowned and worried a lip between her teeth. "No one likes going to these shindigs solo, anyway, right?" Grayson shot her a bright smile, tension rolling off his shoulders. At least she hadn't verbally undressed him, as was her every right. "That's what I thought." 109

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"I think you're both nuts," John complained. "Have you booked a flight yet?" The twinkle in Luxi's eyes dimmed just a bit. "A flight? Ahh, no. I—uhh—wasn't sure you'd let me go. Three days in, already taking time off." John smacked his hands together. "That's right! Day three and already asking for time off? What do you think this is? A summer job at McDonalds?" "You were the one encouraging her to take Friday off as well," Grayson observed. "Yeah, well, that was before you were going." "Obviously." He turned back to Luxi and fished his wallet out of his back jeans pocket. "Just use Expedia or Travelocity or something. Where in Mississippi is this?" "Natchez." "Never heard of it." Luxi shrugged a shoulder. "I never had, either." He handed her his Visa and smiled. "Try to get us a direct flight, and if not, through Jackson. We'll get a rental car if need be. Nina should have all my important info—social, mother's maiden and stuff—if you need it." "You're paying?" "Of course." "Of course," John muttered. "Tell me, Grayson, did you ever want to win, or was this whole campaign just a wellfunded practical joke?" "I'll have my cell phone with me at all times," he retorted. "I don't think popping out of town for a couple days will hurt anything." 110

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"Of course you don't. You're just paying with your credit card." "Personal, not campaign." "Last I checked," Luxi volunteered, "he ain't got no ring on his finger. Stop acting like he's committing a crime." "It isn't about what's right or wrong, it's about what's perceived as right or wrong." John glared at her. "How old are you, anyway? Twelve? Thirteen?" Something dangerous flickered behind her eyes. "Two thousand, give or take." "Great, now we got a comedian." "John, you need to back down, cool off, and get some sleep." Grayson nodded at Luxi. "You'll see it's possible for me to leave for forty-eight hours or so and the world won't end." Luxi laughed. "Well, you never know..." "Don't encourage him." She tapped the credit card against her palm and favored him with a smirk. "Kinda hard to resist." The words seemed loaded, but he didn't know why. And for the moment he didn't care. Something about this—her, everything—felt right. Completely right. Questioning it seemed a fool's errand. Instead, he would enjoy the ride ... even if he had no idea where they were headed. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Eight Luxi had never been on a plane before, therefore the entire prospect of going through security was a little daunting—even for a creature of Hell. Really, agreeing to let Grayson tag along to Ava's reception had seemed like a good idea at the time. Aside from the confusion their make-out fest had created and the knowledge she shouldn't get closer than she already was, Luxi couldn't wrap her mind around the idea of attending the party stag. Lust didn't go to couples events alone, and since she wasn't in the position to troll for dates, going with what was available seemed best. Of course, if she were honest with herself, she couldn't deny the idea of getting some quality alone time with Grayson gave her the good kind of chills. And that was dangerous. Very dangerous. Not only was she not to coerce him into bed, but soft, fluffy feelings about anyone was bad business. As in lucky-if-Lucifer-doesn't-make-your-head-explode bad. But fuck all, she couldn't help herself. The walls she'd carefully constructed were chipping away, leaving her open and vulnerable. Luxi had been around the block enough times to know getting emotionally involved was psychological suicide. She'd destroyed too many marriages and witnessed too many falsehoods to believe anything else. Women who drowned themselves in pills after discovering their husband had an affair with a skinny thing who had just become of legal age. Men who put the business end of a handgun in their 112

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mouth upon learning their wives had something on the side. Those who weren't selfish enough to take their own lives often became shells of their former selves; others were left with deep, hidden scars that often impeded them, if not hindered, from finding love again. Then there was Ava. Ava had risked more than her heart to love her righteous angel. That she'd turned around and fallen into Dante's arms shortly after the fact had been in part due to luck but mostly because Dante and Ava were fucking soul mates ... to the point where watching them together came with a possible side-effect of nausea. Sebastian was just a casualty of Ava's blindness; once he warmed her up, Dante had swooped in for the kill. The odds of any of the Sins striking it rich in the love department were unlikely—especially on the heels of Ava's happiness. If it had taken two thousand years for one of them to dissent, the next opening would be well after Grayson was in a pearly-gated community. Then again, he might not actually be as good as he seemed. She'd only known him a couple days. But damn it, was wanting something so bad? "You need to take them off." Luxi snapped out of her reverie fast. Now was not the time to daydream. "What?" "Your shoes," Grayson whispered, nodding to the security line. "My shoes?" He chuckled and pressed his hand to her back. "How long has it been since you've flown?" "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." 113

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"They implemented several new security features after 9/11. This is one of them." "Oh." She kicked off her shoes. "Yeah, I haven't flown since then." "Don't tell me the fearless Luxi Daimon is scared of flying?" She laughed, mimicking his actions and placing her shoes in a proffered tub. "Not hardly. Just haven't had a need to do it." "Even with a family that lives down South?" "Don't people drive anywhere anymore?" "Only if they're afraid of flying." Grayson shot her a pantyruining grin and stepped through the metal detector. Luxi's chest tightened and pleasant little tingles shot across her skin—a sensation she hadn't experienced since she reached maturity. Oh, hot damn. She was in more trouble than she thought. Not afraid of flying, my ass. Grayson had to swallow a giggle at Luxi's yelp when the plane came in for a less-than-smooth landing in Jackson, Mississippi. She'd held her breath during turbulence, jumped in her seat when the captain switched on the seatbelt sign, and when he got up to visit the restroom, she'd looked at him as though he was abandoning her. It was so damn cute, and cute wasn't a word Grayson invoked often. "I don't understand why humans do that to themselves," Luxi muttered fiercely as they strode toward the rental car agency. 114

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Her wording was a tad awkward, but he understood her meaning. Still, Grayson couldn't help himself. "So ... you weren't afraid?" "Of course I wasn't afraid." She spoke as though the alternative were not only false, but impossible. Her eyes flared and her chin rose with a hint of a haughty huff. Even that look was too cute to take seriously. "Of course you weren't." "You don't believe me, do you?" Grayson opted not to respond. Instead, he nodded to the rental stand. "These things always make me think of that scene in Planes, Trains, and Automobiles." She snickered. "You're really bad at changing the subject." "I'm new at this whole being a politician thing." "Yeah, well, that's a skill you're gonna wanna pick up real quick-like." A half hour later, they were on the road. Luxi had offered to drive, but Grayson didn't feel like placing his life in the hands of someone still jittery from the flight. They made boring small talk once the fraidy-cat jokes became old, though the longer he attempted to come up with a topic, the more drawn he was to what had transpired in her townhome night before last—even knowing that was dangerous territory. Luxi clearly didn't want to revisit the subject and he didn't want to come across as a horndog candidate who couldn't keep his mind off sex. Even so, the brief moments in which she'd been in his arms, drawing hot kisses off his lips and allowing him to explore her soft curves had given him a 115

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glimpse into something he hadn't wanted, hadn't felt, in a very long time. "So," he heard himself asking. "Tell me about this sister." She looked at him sharply, coming out of herself. "Which sister?" "The sister who got hitched." "Oh, right. Umm, well... Ava's... She and I have always been really tight." "Yeah?" "I'm happy for her and all," Luxi said. "Just not sure if I'm happy for me in this. Ava was a loner for a long time, then up and ran off with some choirboy, then when he dumped her, went for the bad-boy-leather type." "And he's who she married?" "More or less," Luxi agreed. "They're nuts about each other." "She left the choirboy for the biker." "Biker treats her right." Grayson frowned. "Still seems dangerous, though. First serious relationship with someone like that?" "Like what?" "Well ... dangerous." "It's dangerous to be with someone dangerous." Luxi propped her right leg up on the seat, resting her elbow against her knee. "You're a walking thesaurus, aren't you?" "I'm tired from the flight," he replied. "All ninety minutes of it." "Well, someone's cranky." "I just don't get why you think Dante's bad news." 116

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"Hey, you're the one you called him the bad-boy-leather type." "And you're the one who assumed that it meant he was a controlling jackass. People can be all kinds of types, you know." Apparently, Grayson had struck a nerve without trying. This time when Luxi huffed, there was nothing cute about it. "Dante was in love with Ava forever. He just didn't know how to tell her. When the choirboy broke her heart—in a very chicken-shit way, I might add—it prompted him to act before he lost her again. He's been damn good to her." "See," Grayson said, "you didn't tell me that part." "I didn't think I had to." "Well, it would've helped." Luxi shrugged. "People say all kinds of shit about me, too, you know, just because I don't fuck around. I dress to fuck, so I'm a slut. I like sex, so I'm a whore. I gotta mouth on me, so I'm white trash. I don't take shit, so I don't have feelings. You have any idea how long I've gotten that bullshit? Doesn't bother me any 'cause most people don't know better. Except you." "Except me," Grayson agreed fiercely. "But I had to get to know you first." "You've known me less than a week. Who are you kidding?" "I know enough to know I like you more than I should." She rolled her eyes. "'Cause I'm not the girl next door." "No, because people out there aren't nearly as smart as me, and will likely jump to all the conclusions you just listed if 117

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it came out before the election that I seduced one of my staffers." Luxi favored him with a small smirk. "So you're seducing me now? That's new." "Well, I wasn't the lunge-er that night, but I sure as hell didn't want to stop. You're the one who kicked me out." "Yeah, before things went too far." "Too far for whom? We weren't committing a crime!" She inhaled sharply. "John said—" "To heck with whatever John said. John is all politics, all the time." Grayson's grip on the steering wheel tightened. "What happened that night had nothing to do with the campaign and everything to do with some complex you have in thinking you're not good enough. You just said it yourself— you're not what people think you are. I'd imagine at least you're smart enough to know that, too." "I think I know what I'm talking about a bit more than you do." "Then why in God's name are you talking yourself in circles?" "Because whatever you're looking for with this—" She gestured between them. "Can't happen." "I wasn't looking for anything, and I sure as heck didn't expect it." Luxi crossed her arms. "This was a bad idea." "What?" "You, me, this. This whole thing. Why the fuck did you volunteer to come with me?" 118

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"Fair's fair," Grayson retorted. "Why in the world did you agree?" "Because I like you, damn it." "Yeah? Well I like you, too. So put that in your pipe and smoke it." Silence drowned out the echo of raised voices, settling in a thick cloud of discomfort over the vehicle. For long, heavy seconds, Luxi said nothing. She merely gazed out the window, turned from him, yet breathing in such a way Grayson knew how painfully aware she was of his presence. His hands, which remained on the steering wheel, again became afflicted with the need to touch her, feel her skin beneath his, comfort her or kiss her or do something to get them away from the awkward middle ground. Yet for all his failings, he was smart enough to know the difference between what felt right and what was right, and at the moment, touching Luxi would do little to move them forward. Therefore, he opted instead for words. "I was married once." Luxi didn't react for a long moment. "Yeah. I heard. Office talk and the like." "Her name was Amily." She swallowed. "Emily?" "No, spelled with an A. Her folks were all artsy or whatever." "So says the guy named Grayson." "You want me to tell the story or do you want to make fun of my name?" "I can multitask." 119

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He spared her a grin, but noted dismally that she didn't look pleased, rather, upset and distracted. Better hurry and get to the point. "She was ... well, the preacher's wife. Demure, soft-spoken and devout. She taught Sunday school, hosted bake sales, proofread my sermons ... and I had no idea it was all an act." "An act?" "Yeah. She was raised in an extraordinarily conservative family, the kind where they taught her Sesame Street was in one of Hell's nicer neighborhoods. She rebelled hard, got mixed up with some bad people, and basically had a rough run until her parents intervened and sent her to rehab." Grayson sighed. "She came back and chose me because I was the guy her parents didn't like but wouldn't object to. Then one day, she realized she was an adult and nothing could stop her from living the life she wanted, so she seduced Dean Tanner, who was my associate minister at the time, in my office at the church." "You caught them?" "No," Grayson replied. "No, that's the thing. She told me. She was sitting on the couch when I got home, and she said she'd ... she told me. Like it was nothing." Luxi murmured something, but he could tell it was more for a sound effect than a response. After telling the same story over and over, it became easy to detect the verbal cues. "She and Dean left together the next day, though word has it they didn't live happily ever after." He sighed again, harder this time. "I tell you this because I know packages can be deceiving. That was why I didn't make assumptions about you 120

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... not the way I did her. You've been more honest with me in a few days than she was in years." "You can't know that," Luxi replied, sounding slightly choked. "Maybe not." Grayson dragged his attention away from the road long enough to look into her eyes. "But I have faith." Was this Lucifer's idea of a joke? She had never questioned her boss's decision to infuse his demons with the weaker qualities of Big J's favored creation. The Sins, like all of Hell's on-ground operatives, were modeled to look, feel, and otherwise appear human, which included a heartbeat and resting pulse-rate. Heartbeats were hard to miss, especially in her profession where getting up close and personal was one of the expectations. Never before had she cursed her ability to experience. In a blink all that had changed. Now she hated her heartbeat and her pulse, and whatever sent tingles across her skin and made her head feel unstable and light. Lucifer had to have done this to her on purpose. Sent her here with the intention of keeping her away from Grayson, knowing her curiosity about the task would only draw her closer. Make her feel for the guy, make her care. Make her like him enough so when she discovered one of her assignments had destroyed his marriage she would at last know the taste of true regret. Grayson clearly knew something was up, though he had enough tact to know when not to press an issue. Ever since pulling the rental into their accommodations at Maple Hill Inn, she had gone to extreme measures in avoiding him. 121

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Amily Bailey. She'd been a pretty big challenge. Reluctant, faithful, and completely in love with her husband. Those cases were the hardest to work—and the most fun. Luxi had thoroughly enjoyed the challenge of coercing the woman into the associate pastor's bed. Fuck, she'd more than used every dirty tactic in the book—she'd added enough of her own moves to warrant an addendum. And now she knew the other side of it. Grayson thought Amily had duped him into marriage. Her chest felt like a vacuum, hollow, cold, and shaking under the weight of a tremendous pressure wave. What was she supposed to do now? Did she tell him? Did she keep it to herself? Did she fester and wait until her guilty rage sent her somewhere she'd never before considered? "It was a job," Luxi murmured. She sat on the edge of the lavish bed in the middle of the extravagantly decorated suite, gripping the side of the mattress so hard she feared she'd tear it apart. "It was a job. It was a job." "What was a job?" She whirled around, her gaze meeting Grayson's. He stood in the doorway, frowning in concern. "How long have you been there?" she demanded. "Long enough to know you're angsting over a job." "I am not angsting." Grayson's features relaxed. "Luxi, I'm a preacher." He turned and closed the door. "I know moral angst when I see it." She worried a lip between her teeth and quickly calculated her options. Lying was the most obvious conclusion, and 122

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something she used to do with ease. As in yesterday— yesterday she could have lied to him and not batted an eyelash. Today, right now, something felt different and she couldn't say what. She also couldn't tell him the truth. "Okay," Luxi said. "Maybe I am angsting. But it's ... what you said in the car." "It was a long drive; I think I said a lot." "About your wife." "Ex-wife." "Yeah, her." "What about her?" "Well ... a few years ago, I was hired by a, ahh, PI." "Private investigator?" Luxi nodded, words story-booking their way into a workable tale. She unwound a bit, easing her way back into her comfort zone. "Right. Ummm. The gig was this, see. I had to see if someone would cheat. Make a move on me, you know? The wife thought he was hiding something, but didn't think it was an affair. He wasn't the type or something. She thought he was sick and didn't wanna tell her." Grayson crossed his arms. "Okay." "PI thought different, which is why he brought me in. At first, the husband was resistant—loved his wife, and all that shit—but eventually he caved in to me and..." A foreign warmth kissed her cheeks, and she realized in shock she was blushing. "I didn't think nothing of it. It was a job, I needed the cash, and even though the wife was hurt I figured she was better off knowing. But then ... what you said today—" 123

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Light and understanding reached his eyes. Grayson nodded, his posture relaxing. "Oh. You think you caused it. You think you made him cheat, like what happened with Amily." "Exactly like what happened with Amily," Luxi deadpanned. "Oh, Luxi." He strode across the room with intent, his hands hooking around her upper arms, and though she knew she should pull away, his skin on hers felt too good to resist. The pounding in her head and chest hadn't alleviated much, but the lack of condemnation on his face went a long way in easing her guilt. "You can't force someone to cheat," he murmured, kissing her brow. She'd kissed and been kissed so many times, so many ways, and she'd remained unaffected; why was it her body ached at his touch? "No matter what you did, it doesn't matter." She laughed nervously. "You say that—" "I mean it. People don't just fall into affairs. There has to be something else, and maybe there was with me and Amily, aside from her problems. Maybe I could have... I dunno. But I don't want you feeling bad about something you didn't cause. It would've happened, anyway. Eventually." "How can you know?" "I just do." Grayson paused. "And though the woman might have resented it, you probably saved her a harder, more painful shock by letting her know then what her husband would do rather finding out years later." Luxi exhaled deeply and closed her eyes. She knew his tune would change if he knew the truth, but people were 124

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always wiser when it came to the ailments of others. Personal heartache and loss could only be reasoned from a distance— after the heart had time to patch itself together again. Still, knowing this didn't stop her from enjoying the tender way he caressed her skin or the intimate warmth of his closeness. The larger part of her realized she should break away, but she didn't care at the moment. Comfort and reassurance were two things Luxi had never gone out of her way to seek; now that she had them she didn't want to let them go. Not yet, at least. She needed to experience the quiet a little longer. Grayson kissed her brow again, lingering this time. Then she felt his hot breath against her cheek, and once in warning on her lips before realizing the time to back away had passed. Luxi trembled and pressed closer, feeling his erection against her stomach. She knew what was coming, of course, but she couldn't help herself. She needed to feel—she needed to feel something other than shame and regret. She needed... "Grayson." She didn't know what she was going to say, and the next instant it didn't matter, for her face was in his hands and he was caressing her lips with his own. He tasted warm and welcoming, hot and needy, open and honest. He tasted like no man she'd ever known. He tasted real, and the wall she'd just reconstructed promptly dissolved. Grayson froze against her mouth when she failed to kiss him back, then pulled away, his eyes bright with rejected humiliation. "Sorry," he said quickly. "I don't know what I was thinking. I'll just—" Luxi didn't allow herself think. She couldn't, lest she talk herself out of something she knew she wanted. Her brain shut 125

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down as she grasped his wrist, tugging him back. And this time when their lips met, there was no hesitation. No roadblocks. She welcomed him into her mouth with alien desperation. Never before—not once—not like this. She knew then. She knew she was lost. "Grayson..." She was drunk on him, as though years of wandering through shadows and soot were finally over. Grayson had jumped into the darkness with her, and he would lead her out because he knew the way. A knock shattered through the room like a cannon. Luxi's eyes flew open and she shoved him back. "Oh god," she murmured. "Luxi—" "Door. Door." She ran her hand through her hair nervously and fluffed out the back, moving away with intent. "Gotta—" Grayson sighed. "Luxi, we need to talk about this." Luxi ignored him and threw the door open, stumbling in surprise. "Invi." "Envy what?" Grayson asked. "Invi, my sister." "Envy Ava?" Invi waved, peering inside. "Invi me." "Envy you?" "Invi is my sister," Luxi corrected. "Two i's." Grayson blinked. "I am really confused. Envy is your sister with two eyes?" Invi snickered. "Wow, sis. Way to pick the smart ones." Luxi blushed and looked away. Somehow, she figured explaining that her companion's blood had temporarily rushed 126

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south rather than north wouldn't clarify anything. "This," she said, gesturing at her sister, "is Invidia, my youngest sister. Told you I have a big family." The blonde waved again. "I go by Invi. I-N-V-I." "Two i's," Grayson said, nodding as understanding brightened his face. "I think I'm caught up. Your family has some weird names." "Says Grayson," Luxi replied. "Haven't we had this argument already once today?" Invi scoffed again. "You guys want to flirt all night or do this thing?" "Do this thing," she replied. "I just gotta go freshen up." "Wanna look your best. The whole fam's here." Invi cast Grayson a skeptical glance. "They know you brought a date?" Luxi smiled flatly. "Guess they will soon enough." "I can't wait," Grayson assured her, though his voice was heavy. He clearly wanted to talk. Invi laughed. "Famous last words." [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Nine Grayson hadn't traveled much down south for pleasure, excluding the time John had dragged him to Louisiana for a drunken Mardi Gras weekend. That didn't really count, though, seeing as he couldn't remember most of it. Still, for all the wonder and mystique, history and energy generated in New Orleans, there was something to be said for the simpler things. Mammoth Plantation was one of those locations one only saw on Travel Channel specials. It sat on several lofty acres of elevated land on the corner of a rather popular intersection, which might be problematic in larger cities. It also reminded him of Tara from Gone with the Wind—large, cream-colored columns to offset the faux white stucco look, a veranda on the second floor, and enough accommodations in both room and view to appease the most hardened traveler. Not to mention the gardens were gorgeous. When Luxi had mentioned her whole family would be at the reception, he'd admittedly pictured a more intimate evening, especially given the location. In contrast, not an inch of the grounds appeared unclaimed. He felt very much out of his element, and somewhat overdressed. "There's my brother, Gula," Luxi murmured, pointing to a stocky, completely bald middle-aged man chatting animatedly with a barely-legal blonde bombshell who wore spiked heels and fishnet stockings. "Gula?" Her family really had some weird names. 128

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"He's a big teddy bear, don't let him fool you." Luxi arched up to catch a glimpse of the woman with whom her brother was conversing. "Oh, and that's Pixley." "Pixley?" "Family friend." "Your family is friends with a girl named Pixley?" Luxi made a face. "Good friends." Grayson frowned, then he caught a glimpse of something. It was likely just the distance between them—and how eyes loved playing tricks on the brain—but from where he stood, he would have sworn he saw a book floating by Pixley's head. Luxi grabbed his arm and tugged. "What's up?" "Nothing," he replied, taking a step forward and straining his eyes. "Just ... from over here, it looks..." She swore under her breath and tugged on his arm again, forcing his attention away from the strange optical illusion. "You wanna meet the others or what?" Grayson pursed his lips and nodded. "Yeah, sorry. Just ... guess that flight took more out of me than I thought." "No worries," she assured him. "Over there..." Luxi pointed to a familiar face—her sister, Invi—who was sipping wine and standing between a man with blood-red hair and a taller, lankier guy who could have been plucked from the Midwest. "Ira and Ace." "Friends?" She shook her head. "Brothers. Ira's a real hothead ... get it?" "How are these people your siblings?" 129

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Luxi looked at him sharply. "What the fuck does that mean?" "With the exception of Gula, there, you all look about twelve years old collectively." "Says the man who had his tongue down my throat thirty minutes ago," she replied. "Seriously." "We were adopted." That much made sense, but something still felt off. Grayson worried over it for a moment or so before deciding he was preoccupied with whatever had led up to that stolen moment back at Maple Hill. Then he remembered they'd only booked the one room, and for the life of him, he couldn't decide if it was a mistake or intentional on their one of their parts. "Perb should be around here somewhere..." "Perv?" Luxi snickered again. "Perb—with a b as in 'boy'." "You're never allowed to make fun of my name again. You know that, right?" "That implies you think I don't make fun of Perb." She grinned wickedly. "We actually all used to call him Darcy." "Darcy?" "After Mr. Darcy? He has a passing resemblance to Colin Firth." That much prompting was enough for Grayson to identify the final sibling, and passing resemblance was understating it a little. "He is Colin Firth." "Don't tell him that." 130

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"I'm serious." Grayson blinked dumbly. "There's no chance, I'm guessing, that he's Colin Firth's long lost twin that your parents just happened to find at the adoption center?" "How exactly do you think adoptions are conducted?" "I don't know. All I know is he is Colin Firth." As though sensing their discussion, Faux-Colin strolled up with an unmistakable air of Austenian pomposity, so Darcyesque that Grayson would have sworn he was sucked into a BBC special. After all, Amily had only made him watch Pride and Prejudice eighteen times. "Luxuria," said Faux-Colin with, among other things, a haughty British accent. "I didn't realize you were bringing friends." "Oh, you gotta be kidding me," Grayson mumbled. "I beg your pardon?" Luxi giggled and leaned into Grayson's side, which provoked him and her brother enough to stare at her for a few seconds before turning their attention back on each other. Apparently, neither of them were accustomed to hearing girlish laughter bubble off her lips. It seemed better to gather his bearings and not make an ass of himself. Grayson cleared his throat and extended a hand. "Grayson Bailey. I'm—" "That candidate from Missouri." Faux-Colin regarded the proffered handshake with a proud sneer. "Little sister, it appears I lost a wager. Our, shall I say, guardian, gambled that you would arrive with a companion. I thought you had better taste than that." 131

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"Better taste?" Grayson repeated. Faux-Colin's lips curled in disdain. "A politician." "Oh, lighten up, Perb," Luxi retorted. "Just because you couldn't get a girl to come with you doesn't mean the rest of us aren't allowed to have any fun. Now, have you seen Ava?" "I believe she and her..." He shuddered. "Paramour are off christening the reception. I didn't realize what an absolutely atrocious influence you had been on her until watching the two of them practically fornicate on the serving table." "Awww, shucks, bro, I love you, too." Luxi thrust herself into her brother's arms and planted a big smacker on his cheek. "Have fun. And let me know if you need any help removing that stick up your ass later. I'm sure someone at this gig owes me a favor." "Knowing you..." Luxi rolled her eyes and steered Grayson away without another word. "Is he always that pleasant?" he whispered furiously once they were a safe distance away. "What? Perb?" She shrugged. "I'm just glad we caught him in a good mood." "Your family is a little frightening, aren't they?" A grin tugged the corner of her mouth. "You have no idea." The night had potential for disaster, but Luxi was too amused to give a shit. Grayson's vocal and silent reactions made the introductions to her various relatives and colleagues more than entertaining. Be it Perb's pomposity or Pixley's interpretation of appropriate formal attire, watching him was almost like seeing everyone for the first time all over again. 132

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Not once had she had the opportunity to view how her crowd must look through another's eyes. By the time Luxi managed to locate Ava, whose flushed cheeks and tousled hair confirmed Perb's accusation—Dante's shit-eating grin didn't prove much of a defense, either—she and Grayson had been roaming the grounds and making various introductions for at least an hour. "How are you handling the fam?" Ava asked Grayson. "We really know how to throw a party." "It's a little more overwhelming than I expected," he confessed. "You're telling me," Dante agreed, throwing an arm around Ava. "Didn't know you came with all these accessories, sweetheart." Ava made a face. "Yeah, well, you're past the ninety-day warranty, so you can't take me back." "Fuck," the vampire swore. "And here I thought I was due for an upgrade." Luxi wrinkled her nose. "You guys are gonna start making out again, aren't you?" Dante grinned. "Probably." "Props for honesty." Luxi shrugged, then took Grayson by the arm and steered him in the opposite direction. "In the meantime, we'll take that as our cue." "Good idea," Ava said, gazing lovingly at her vampire. Grayson waved. "Nice meeting you two. And congratulations!" They didn't make it far before colliding with another familiar face, and likewise the one Luxi had been most 133

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determined to avoid, even if she had reconciled the reality there really was no chance of getting away from the party without running into the boss. In fact, she was surprised she'd managed this long, though she wasn't sure how Lucifer would react to seeing the target of her assignment on her arm at a very public demon party. True to form, Lucifer stood near the punchbowl, waving at colleagues and sporting his devil horns. The second his gaze met hers, he cast her a friendly, however, frightening smile. Luxi did her best to return it, though her stomach had knotted and her damnable heart had decided to thunder again. No sense pretending she hadn't seen him. "Friend of yours?" Grayson asked. "Let's call him the father I never knew," Luxi replied. "Yeah. And he's all of, what, twenty-seven?" She stifled a laugh. "And some change. Tell him that, though. He'll get a kick out of it." Lucifer's smile grew wider as they approached—one of his enigmatic either mad-as-hell or completely amused grins, and likewise one of the more unsettling expressions to encounter. Luxi envied Grayson something fierce in that moment; he didn't realize just how high the pendulum swung, and though she wanted for nothing, it'd be nice not to walk such a fine line every now and again. "Thought you were going to slip right by me, didn't you?" Lucifer noted. "Oh," Luxi replied, her voice strained. "Think I know better than that." 134

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"Yes, you would think." He turned his attention to Grayson. "And who is this?" "Grayson Bailey. I'm Luxi's boss in Missouri." "I'm Luxi's boss everywhere else." Lucifer's eyes danced. "Pleased to meet you. Hope you guess my name." Oh god. Luxi's shoulders slumped. He was in one of those moods. The mortifyingly lame dad jokes spun only as the Prince of Lies could spin them; the sort only Lucifer found funny and frequently forced laughter from others on threat of hellish punishment. From The Rolling Stones to the Divine Comedy, no piece of self-depreciating or glorifying media was safe from the devil's warped sense of humor. Grayson's brows furrowed. "Sorry?" "Oh, he's kidding," she explained hurriedly. "He's a kidder. Aren't you, Luc?" "Yes, I'm a kidder." Grayson's gaze shifted to the top of Lucifer's head. "Must say, those horns look rather—" She nodded. "Impressive, aren't they?" "Interesting choice for a reception." Lucifer laughed and patted the top of his head. "Oh, I forgot about those." "Any reason for them?" "Of course." The smile lingered another second before dropping in favor of a deadpanned, "I'm the devil." Luxi stared at him blankly, nervous energy pressing against her chest. For a long beat she didn't know what to do—then laughter bubbled off her lips. Loud, forced, 135

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exaggerated laughter. At an apparent loss, Grayson followed her lead, though he sounded, if possible, less enthusiastic. "I don't get it," he admitted through his teeth, never losing his smile. Lucifer shrugged. "The lady said I'm a kidder." He finally extended a hand. "Luc I. Pher. Friend of the family, and the one responsible for throwing this shindig together." Grayson nodded appreciatively. "Very nice. And what is it you do?" "Oh, a little bit of everything." "He's a writer," Luxi blurted, though from where she didn't know. It seemed safer than letting her boss drag Grayson down a line of inscrutable clues for his own amusement. Grayson seemed impressed. "Anything I'd know?" "Perhaps," Lucifer replied, not missing a beat. "Have you read The Real Secret Garden: Apples Are Delicious?" Luxi groaned. "Jesus, you're killing me, here." "That's the sequel, actually," the devil said. He turned his attention back to Grayson. "I didn't know Luxuria was bringing a date. Do you accompany all the interns you barely know to family functions three states away?" "Just the pretty ones." Lucifer chuckled. "Something tells me you're going to make it just fine in professional politics." Whatever Luxi had been prepared to say—be it a witty retort or a desperate excuse to depart from her boss's company—vanished the next second, her attention stolen by an approaching party guest. A party guest bearing the most famous face in the world, though his most fervent followers 136

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wouldn't recognize him. It was the last face she or anyone had expected on the invite list. The face many yearned to see upon death. "Oh. My. Fuck." "What?" Grayson asked, but there was no sense answering him. Big J appeared as normal as anyone else. He was of medium height, had a strong, lean build that was accentuated by his loose-fitting Hawaiian shirt and khakis. His famous face was a young one, complete with a head full of sandy-blond hair. In a strange way he looked like someone she'd always known and a stranger all at once. No resident of Hell, aside from Lucifer, had ever stood in Big J's presence. It was terrifying, exhilarating, and maddening as fuck. "What the hell is he doing here?" Luxi murmured under her breath. Lucifer didn't answer. The enigmatic smile had faded, replaced with an even more unnerving shield of stern dissatisfaction. "Who is he?" Grayson whispered loudly. "Old friend," Lucifer replied, distracted. "Excuse me." He moved quickly to intercept the crasher, leaving Luxi with something between dread and excitement pooling in her belly. "This could be bad." "I take it they're old friends the way Professor X and Magneto were friends," Grayson said. "Epically tragic bromance." Luxi nodded, then smirked and bumped his shoulder with hers. "Nerd." 137

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Lucifer and Big J were conversing heatedly, though not loud enough to determine what was being said. All surrounding conversations had fallen awkwardly silent. Across the gardens, Luxi saw Ace attempting to talk Ira down— probably from doing something cosmically stupid like interrupting two quarreling deities. Invi and Perb wore near identical looks of disdain. Gula stood near Ava and Dante, as though protecting them from the limelight. "This is weird," Grayson whispered. "This seems weird to me. Does it seem weird to you?" "Big J turning up anywhere we're at is weird." "What's a Big J?" Luxi bit her lip to smother a grin. "Magneto over there." "Do I want to know how he got that name?" "I can definitely say ... no. No, you don't." At last, the tension in the air broke—not entirely, but enough of which to make note. Big J took a step back from Lucifer, waving dismissively. "Oh, calm down, old man," he said loudly. "I just dropped by to wish the happy couple all the best." "Yes," Lucifer agreed. "Pardon me if there are some things I can't take on faith." "That wouldn't be a first, now would it?" The devil didn't crack a grin. Not a good sign. "Avaritia?" he said loudly. "Do you want to thank our guest?" Luxi glanced to her sister, who hesitantly replied, "Consider him thanked." "There you have it," Lucifer said. "Now ... this is a private affair—" 138

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"Yes, of course." Big J nodded, gesturing to the party guests. "Please, everyone. Return to your drinks and mingling. Luc and I have some catching up to do." For a second, Luxi thought Lucifer might protest; instead, he nodded and discreetly veered Big J toward a corner near the Mammoth Plantation gift shop. It took a moment for the party to recommence, but after a few pained seconds, chatter rose to an uproar—everyone suddenly bursting with new nervous energy. Luxi released a deep sigh, but she wasn't ready to call the game. Big J publicly meeting to chat with Lucifer didn't happen. Something was up. And anything involving the celestial party-crasher couldn't be good. The smile that tickled Jev's face was one Lucifer knew well. He'd worn the same look before unleashing the plagues on the Egyptians; before taking the bet that Job wouldn't curse his name if he put him through the shredder. Jev was up to something, and knowing him, Lucifer wouldn't like the results. "I've got to say," Jev said. "I didn't know you had it in you." "Pardon?" "I see you only have one Sin on assignment." Lucifer shrugged. "The world is pulling itself apart right now. No need to put all my players on the field." "Yes, and this has nothing to do, I'm sure, with our wager." The wager. Lucifer had expected as much. After Avaritia's departure from the fold, Jev had been eager to open the lines 139

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of communication again, and betting on the future had once been a great hobby of theirs. Yet the stakes on this particular gamble were high, and Lucifer never did anything without the intention of claiming victory. He wanted those souls freed. The five oldest in Hell. Once Luxuria failed her assignment and came forward to resign her post—conclusively—those condemned would at last be moved from the fiery lake and, after so many millennia, know some sort of peace. Jev hated losing. It was a damn shame he didn't know just how hard Lucifer was willing to fight to get what he wanted. "Is that what brought you here?" Lucifer asked, crossing his arms. "To talk shop?" "Come now. We used to meet like this all the time." "Yes, and then your head met your ass." Jev frowned. "Is that any way to talk to a friend?" "I suppose I don't see what you hope to accomplish by crashing Avaritia's reception." "Is it wrong of me to wish her well?" "That is not the reason you're here." Jev splayed his hands. "Call me curious," he replied. "I just have been keeping tabs on you for quite a while, old friend." "You don't say." "I also know Luxi is currently romancing the scorned ex of a previous assignment." Lucifer's jaw tightened, but he didn't take the bait. The fact Jev had known about the Sins as long as he had, despite the lengths to which the devil had gone to maintain their secrecy, was still a sore spot. 140

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"What is Luxi's objective, exactly?" Jev prodded. "I fail to see where it is any business of yours." "That was often your problem, wasn't it?" His mouth formed a line and he stepped forward, expression turning grave. Again, Lucifer didn't respond. "Here's my supposition. Tell me if I miss something. You waited an appropriate amount of time following our initial wager and decided to send Luxi on a mission you knew she would fail." Jev shrugged. "Perhaps one with no clear objective. And when she inevitably falls in love with her target and demands her freedom, I will honor my bargain, releasing those five souls we discussed, and therein be shown the error of my ways." "Don't be ridiculous," Lucifer replied drolly. "That would take a miracle." Jev smiled again, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Ah, Luc. If only you had played the game. Now I'm afraid I'm going to have to show you how it's done." "The wager stands." "Of course. I am a god of my word." Lucifer inclined his head. "Then I'll see you at the finish line." "Yes," Jev replied softly, but with enough venom to hear the threat. "You will." [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Ten Admittedly, it took Grayson a little while to find his footing around Luxi's family. It was a large bunch—larger than he would have anticipated even with her disclaimer—but he still chalked his few fumbles to the fact that he had fallen out of practice. Amily had been a Hatfield; while neither she nor her considerably large and outstandingly dysfunctional family knew if they branched from the famous feud, Grayson had always wagered the answer was yes. It also went a long way in explaining why Amily's parents had been so rigid about her upbringing—she had cousins who landed themselves in prison for any number of charges, and even more who evaded the law. Her folks hadn't cared for their relatives too much, but family was family, so Grayson and Amily had attended every holiday function, no matter how many times they swore they'd had their fill of punishment. However, the oddities of Luxi's family aside, they were ostensibly a very tight group. Whether Luc's old friend had intentionally crashed the party was up in the air—though consensus said yes—but with some music and bad jokes, everyone regrouped and found themselves on track. Luxi had excused herself briefly to double-check on Ava, leaving Grayson with the unenviable task of chatting with Ira, her frighteningly confrontational brother. "You and my sister close?" Ira demanded, his gaze slanted. "I like her." 142

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"That wasn't my question." "We don't know each other all that well, to be honest." "Don't hurt her." "What?" Ira took a step forward. "She's not the type to bring her fuck-toys to family events, you hear me? I see you sniffing around her like a fucking dog in heat and I don't like it. For whatever reason, she thinks you're all right, and that's all good as long as it remains good. You hurt her, you look at her funny, you so much as breathe on her in a way she doesn't like, and you answer to me. That's not something you want." Grayson swallowed. "You're a little scary, aren't you?" A secretive smile played with Ira's lips. "Little bit, yeah." "I won't hurt your sister." "That's right. You won't." The smile turned into a smirk. Ira patted Grayson's cheek. "'Cause you look like you're smart enough not to want me in your business." "I definitely don't want you in my business." Thankfully, the Lord decided to stop testing him. Luxi appeared behind her brother the next second, her expression warped with cynical amusement. "Ira, what did I tell you about scaring my dates?" Ira's gaze remained steadfast on Grayson, cool and collected. "No worries, kid," he said. "I think me and your senator are gonna get along just fine." "Joy," Grayson said. "Just as long as he doesn't piss me off." Luxi rolled her eyes. "You're scaring him." "I know. Have you tried? It's a fucking blast." 143

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"Why don't you go chase some tail? I hear Pixley's in the need for a lay." Ira brightened at that and slapped a hand on Luxi's shoulder. "Pixley's here? Tasty little morsel never lets me know when she's around." Grayson plastered on a smile, his mind jumping to Pixley's fishnet stockings and the incredibly short skirt that barely covered her ass cheeks. "She's hard to miss." Ira nodded, now scouring the party attendants. "Right, well, good talking to you. And keep what I said in mind." "The part where you threatened me if I breathed on your sister?" "That's right." Luxi sucked in her cheeks, looking far too amused. At least she had enough compassion not to say anything until her brother was well out of earshot. "Ira give you the speech, I take it?" "What speech?" "The same speech he gave Dante after he and Ava made it all official." He laughed nervously, casting a hand through his hair. "You must really not bring many men home to mom." "You're the first." "The first?" Luxi shrugged and pivoted on her heel, and Grayson stumbled to follow. The night had been a collage of information—fast-paced and fun, but he found himself craving some of that one-on-one time John had warned him against. They had started something in their room, and if he were 144

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completely honest with himself, his mouth had yet to stop tingling from her kiss. He kept waiting for the warning bells to sound—kept thinking something would click and he'd remember who he was and what he was supposed to be doing. Back home waited a stack of paperwork, preparations for a rally, a disapproving campaign manager, unflattering poll numbers, people who thought he was the antichrist, and an empty bed. Oh, and a death threat lingering over his head. None of that seemed to matter—not even the stuff he knew he should really care about. If he didn't know better he'd swear Luxi had placed him under some sort of enchantment. As it was, the more he knew about her the more he wanted to know. She was the epitome of the sort of girl he should avoid. The sort of girl made for ruining reputations. Still, he didn't give a damn. At least not today. Mammoth Plantation was an oasis of calm. Even with the sounds of the celebration behind them, it was easy to feel completely isolated without traveling far. A short distance from the party sat a small bridge that led to a petite manmade pond. It seemed idyllic to the point of feeling inauthentic—as though he'd stepped through one of the sketches in Mary Poppins and landed himself in a world too lovely to be his own. "Why did you come?" Grayson blinked and shot Luxi a curious look. She did not return it. "What do you mean?" "There are a thousand and one things you should be doing now. Hell, I'm the new girl and even I know that. You packed 145

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up shop and tagged along when anyone with any kind of sense would have listened to his friend." "I thought we already went over this," he said slowly. "You like me, I like you." "Yeah, I remember." "Then what's the problem?" "I dunno. Fuck, my mind changes every three seconds." Luxi shot him a thin smile, crossing her arms. "I get wanting to escape. I do." "That's not why I came." "Then why?" "Again: because I like you." "You have any idea how long it's been since someone liked me well enough not to try and fuck me?" Grayson tripped. He would have crashed against the bridge railing had Luxi not grabbed hold of him. "What? I ... uhhh ... thanks." She bit her lip, and though he knew she wanted to laugh, she managed to keep it in. "Don't sweat it." "What did you mean when you said ... err..." "That people try to fuck me if they like me?" "Yes." "Well, that," she said. "That is what I meant." The hot, desperate kisses they'd exchanged suddenly fell into a darker light. "Look, I didn't... If you think I came with you to get you into bed—" "Grayson—" "I didn't come with you to seduce you." "But even if you did, that'd be okay." 146

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Grayson tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. "Okay? So it's okay if I wanted to demean you the way others have?" Luxi sighed and waved a hand. "Sex isn't a big evil, you know. We're kinda wired for it. The fact that you wanna do the nasty doesn't make me think any less of you." "What makes you think I want to ... erm, do the nasty?" "'Cause I know what an erection feels like, especially when it rubs against me." Heat tinged his cheeks. "Well ... umm ... that's just ... you're an attractive woman, and I am a man ... and it happens." "Congrats, you passed sixth grade science." "But that doesn't mean—" "You don't wanna fuck me?" Grayson coughed and thumped his chest, his skin burning and his mind taking him down a dangerous path. They were far enough from the others that no one would miss them if he shoved her against a tree, tore her slacks down her legs, and buried his face in her hot pussy. He'd wondered for three days now how she'd taste, if she'd pant and moan, if she'd clutch his head and thrust herself against his mouth. With as vocal as she was—as cocky and self-assured—Luxi also wore a coat of armor, and he wanted so badly to assuage her defenses and convince her trusting him wouldn't get her hurt. When he failed to summon a retort, Luxi sighed. "Don't feel bad about it. It's not like—" "Wait." "No, Grayson, I get it." 147

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"No you don't. You don't at all. You're just ... damn it, you're just more upfront with these things than anyone I've known. You throw me off guard—" "I'd rather get right to the fucking rather than all this pretense about what people actually want. It separates the mice from the men." She shrugged. "So far I haven't met many that fall into that second category." "I don't want to just get to ... that word." "Sure you do. If I decided to jump your bones right now and take your stick out for a ride, you wouldn't mind." "Not now, but I sure as heck would have the first time I saw you." "You mean seventy-two hours ago?" "It doesn't matter when," Grayson replied hotly. "I know you now." "Enough to ride me like a pony? Well, hot damn, why didn't you say so?" "That's not what I want!" "Then what do you want?" Something seized hold of him—something deep and primal, something completely beyond anything he'd ever experienced. Making verbal arguments had lost its affect, and he had to touch her now. With a growl he barely recognized as his, Grayson seized her upper arms and dragged her to his chest. "This," he said, then pressed his mouth to hers. Each time he tasted her lips the air around his head exploded, sending him spiraling into a new form of ecstasy. Everything Luxi did was packed with more power and passion than seemed humanly possible. Though she went still 148

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at first, her hesitation melted fast and in seconds she devoured him, turning the art of kissing into a masterpiece the likes of which the world had never seen. She danced with him, exploring his lips with her teeth and tongue, taking hot drags off his mouth as though he were a bad habit she couldn't quit. She tasted warm and dangerous, temptation personified, and every touch tugged him deeper. He didn't care if he ever was found. At some point, breathing became important. Grayson broke away, panting, his blood rushing and his temples throbbing. "I need all of this," he whispered against her lips. "Everything." Luxi's eyes widened. If he didn't know better, he'd say she looked panicked. "Oh god." "I don't do things halfway. I haven't felt like this in years— " "Grayson—" "I know this is insane." "Good," she said, licking her lips. He swallowed a groan. "'Cause this might sound weird, but I think I know you enough to know this is not you. You're a collected guy, Grayson. You don't just trip over shit for some girl you just met." "Yeah, well, you're the exception that proves the rule." Luxi stared at him for a long moment before breaking away, shaking her head. "If you really knew me..." "Who's to say I don't?" "Well, me, for starters." 149

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"Fine. Tell me if any of this sounds familiar. You're stubborn, smart, wildly sarcastic—" She made a face. "That's what I am, not who." "You think you have nothing to offer." That accusation only annoyed her. She slid her palms down her sides, her hips swaying in ways that ought to be outlawed. "I got plenty to offer, baby." His chest tightened with resurged anger. For whatever reason, her suggestive dance move made something in him snap—break past the point of civility, striking him free of the hazed lust her presence inspired. It was back and forth with her, never an in between, and the back and forth had grown old. "And that's it!" Grayson pointed at her. "That's it right there. You get so scared that someone might get close to you, might actually want to see what's behind your armor that you pretend you have nothing more to offer than sex, and lots of it. You as much told me so in the car." "I did not!" "Bull crap. You jumped down my throat for making the teensiest assumption about your sister's husband based on a comment you made about him being the bad boy type." "You saw him, didn't you? I described him right, didn't I?" "Yeah, you described one part of him. And that's not even the point, damn it, the point is you say these things about yourself and others, and then get defensive about it." Grayson shook his head. "You are so terrified of letting someone in that you're willing to risk a lifetime of loneliness rather than put your heart on the line." "And you think your dick's the miracle cure." 150

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"No, damn it." He gritted his teeth, his jaw clenching. "You are, without a doubt, the most insecure woman I've ever met. One step forward, two back. We make out in your apartment, and you give me some line about not being good enough. You invite me to this thing, then scold me because of the conclusions I came to based off what you told me. You show some sign of vulnerability, then shove me away and tell me I'm only it in for sex." "Well, aren't you?" Luxi retorted, crossing her arms defensively. "I'm sorry if I don't buy this whole you're not like the other girls bullshit. I ain't no Sunday school teacher and I'm definitely not the kinda girl that makes men sprout sonnets. I don't have any daddy issues or whatever it is you people like to throw around, either. You're a fucking preacher, and you're chasing my tail." "You're letting me." "That's what we bad girls like to do, right? Sully the innocent?" "I'm not a quivering virgin, Luxi. I'm a grown man in a grown man's world." "You're a preacher." "What I am," he replied. "Not who I am. Sound familiar?" Her expression melted into a beautiful wave of fury. "Fuck, you drive me outta my head." "No more than you do me. What do you want?" "What do I want?" Grayson nodded. "Yes." "What do I want?" "Yes." 151

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It happened in a blur. One second he was certain her ire would rip him apart by sheer will of force, and then she was against him, mauling his mouth with hers. Touching, grabbing, feeling him all over, her hands everywhere at once. There wasn't an inch of him that went unexplored, and every caress sent sharp little sizzles across his skin. Luxi cupped his cheeks, squeezed his shoulders, dipped her hand between their bodies to rub the hard outline of his erection. She growled into his mouth when he moaned, teased his tongue and bit lovingly at his lips. She took him like he'd never before been taken, and he needed more with every pull. "Damn," she murmured when she drew back, her eyes shining. Whatever he might have said in response was stolen by another kiss, and it didn't occur to him to mind. This has to stop. Luxi bade the inner voice a courtesy nod—or rather she tried. It was a little difficult nodding when being shoved against a bed. Bed? They were back at Maple Hill Inn. How the hell had that happened? Had she magicked them away by accident? No ... no, her fuzzy mind pieced together a hazy memory of just a moment ago, Grayson's arms around her, his mouth never leaving hers as they fumbled their way up the sidewalk toward the front door. Every time she tried to break free he caught her again, and the reasons to resist grew duller by the second. "Gotta get these off," Grayson whispered against her lips, his fumbling fingers attempting to find the catch in her slacks. Luxi grinned. "Just slide them down, big guy." 152

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"I can't find the—ohh, there we go." Then she was naked from the waist down, lying stretched across the bed, her back arching in wordless offering. The nagging voice she'd spent the better part of three days attempting to obey screamed its final protest, then Grayson's head dipped and his mouth found her pussy. "Oh shit." "Mmm," he murmured, tongue tapping her clit. "You like that?" She lifted her pelvis into his touch. "Yeah. Keep at it." He chuckled into her, and the vibration felt so good she thought she would weep. "That an order?" he replied, licking a wet path up her slit. "Direct. Don't make me punish you." "I don't know. That could be fun." Luxi released a sound that was supposed to be a laugh, but sounded more like a moan to her ears. "Nahhh ... you, ahh, don't want me punishing you." Grayson perked a brow and delved his tongue into her sodden cunt, and she released a loud, hoarse scream and threw her legs over his shoulders. "I," he murmured into her, "think that's up for debate." "Do they make all preachers like you?" "Just the sexy ones." "Grayson..." He raised his head, nuzzling her delicately before suckling her clit into his mouth. "Luxi." He lapped at her eagerly, a long moan coursed through his body. "Damn, you taste so good." He shuddered and glanced up, looking into her eyes. "You understand, right?" 153

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"I taste good?" "Well, there's that." "What else?" "This isn't all I want." His head dipped as his tongue sank into her pussy again, nimble fingers stroking her sensitive button tenderly. "I want to hear you say that you understand," he said softly. "Say that you know that I want more—this, all this, but more. You're here because you know that, and because you want to be." Luxi whimpered and thrust herself against him. "Grayson..." "Say it." He pinched her clit. "Say it, please." She arched again, a small sob of pleasure erupting from her lips. She felt exposed in ways she never had, and while the thought sent shivers of pure trepidation through her body, she couldn't care now. Not now. Not with the soft way he touched her, how she felt more in his voice than she had in centuries of bed-hopping. "I want." He tongued her eagerly, massaging her clit with a bit more fury. "Tell me you understand." "Understand." "That I want more." Luxi threaded her fingers through his hair and thrust against his face. "Have more." "I will." "Oh yes." "Tell me." "Grayson." A long sigh rumbled through her lips and she cupped his face, finding his eyes. "I'm with you." 154

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Then she hit it. The tiny pinpricks of delicious pressure zapping through her veins centered and exploded. The room melted away and she spiraled into a sea of unknown, touching things she'd only read about. It went on forever but not long enough, crashing over her in waves that left her skin burning and her chest aching and bringing everything she'd ever known or thought she'd known into question. In that instant she met some form of cosmic understanding. It flooded her, overloaded her, and before she could reconcile anything, something pulled on her chest and she burst into tears. Grayson left her pussy with a parting lick, then crawled up her body and rested at the empty space beside her. And before she knew it, she was in his arms, crying softly against his chest, shudders of ecstasy refusing her rest. It was the most perfect moment she'd experienced. And the knowledge scared the shit out of her. Grayson didn't know how much time passed. Minutes, hours, it didn't seem to matter. He lay with Luxi in his arms, her heart racing against his chest and her trembling breaths tickling his skin. She had calmed rather quickly, her sobs transitioning into soft sighs, but she didn't look up or breach the quiet with words. Something had happened—something he couldn't measure or understand, and prodding her before she was ready to speak would ruin whatever refuge she'd reached. Silences, even good ones, couldn't last forever. At last she said, "This is a bad idea." "What?" 155

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"Us." "We're a bad idea?" She nodded. "For both of us." Grayson smiled and brushed her hair over her shoulder. "Probably. But the election's not too far away." Luxi hesitated. "Yeah..." "If I have you at the end of the tunnel, we can wait." When she didn't immediately respond, he felt he might have betrayed too much. His feelings for her were deep and frighteningly strong, and he knew he was in too far to turn around. The voice that had tempered his action—guided him to think with his head before his heart got involved— remained steadfastly silent where Luxi was concerned. Grayson wanted more. He wanted things that were insane to want, and he wouldn't apologize for it. But like him as she did, he had no way of knowing whether or how Luxi saw him fitting into her life. Her attraction to him might not be strong enough to overcome her fears—and even then, she might not feel up to the fight. While he was pretty damn sure he was more than a pit stop on her journey, he'd been wrong before. "Wait," she said at last. "Yeah. We know we connect...but if you're worried about the campaign or your job, we can always wait until after the election to—" "Do more?" "Yes." Luxi worried a lip between her teeth, her brow furrowed in thought. "So...what we did here..." 156

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"Just between us." "Between us." Her voice carried an odd pitch, contemplative and far away, yet grounded enough to know she was talking about them and not something else. "So when we go back..." Grayson chuckled. "I think John would kill me if I announced I was in any relationship, be it with you or Mother Teresa." "I don't get that." He shrugged. "He knows his stuff. And I'm not the favorable candidate to begin with, so it'd hurt me to throw an unknown variable into the mix." "So we don't... Whatever happens here doesn't leave with us." He nodded. "Not until after the campaign is over. If we still feel like this, then we'd be stupid not to see if it has somewhere to go." "Yeah," Luxi said. Then she rolled on top of him, casting herself astride his hips. Her mouth came down on his before he could think to react. Her kisses were rough and demanding, as though he were a flavor she couldn't get anywhere else, as though she were memorizing his feel, his taste, to carry with her when they were apart. The notion rattled him to his core, but he honestly didn't know if it was due to excitement or fear. At the moment, with her tongue exploring his mouth and her hands wandering across his body, he didn't care to find out. Grayson broke away, gasping. "What—" Her hands were at his fly, and then his pants were down his legs and his naked 157

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cock touched the air. Luxi sighed and wrapped her fingers around him, squeezing his flesh so good thought all but evaporated. "Oh shit," he said. "This doesn't count." "Doesn't count?" "Your turn," Luxi murmured. Decoding her intent wasn't difficult, and though he knew he should protest, the good preacher in him had been completely dominated by the sexdriven male. His cock ached with need of her sweet, hot mouth. He wanted her eyes on him as he thrust himself between those succulent lips, but he didn't want her to feel like she had to prove anything to him. She owed him nothing. Nothing. But it didn't keep him from craving what he shouldn't. "Luxi..." "Shut up," she said. "This is my time." Then she slid down his body and sucked him between her lips, and the noise around his head drowned in a sea of pleasure. "Oh shit!" "Like this," Luxi whispered, her tongue caressing the swollen head of his cock. She cradled his balls in her left palm, her fingers gently massaging the base of his erection as her mouth trailed his length. Then she released him and said, "You deserve more than I can give you." Grayson blinked. "What?" "You do." No, no, that wasn't right. "Luxi—" Luxi grinned and winked at him, wrapping those luscious lips around his sensitive cockhead again, her hand moving 158

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gently against his sac, and thought left the building. Every stroke of her tongue was like a whispered admission to Paradise itself, burning him with pleasure so intent it was miraculous he didn't dissolve on the spot. Her hand shifted in easy seconds, fingers wrapping around his erection to pump him in time with the idyllic movements of her mouth. There was nothing she didn't explore. She pressed his cock to his stomach and lapped at his testicles, then skimmed the underside of his erection until her lips wrapped around the head again, humming around him. She touched him like she wanted to commit him to memory. Like this was all they'd have. All they'd know. The thought was enough to stir unrest, but he couldn't find his voice. He just hoped she'd trust him enough to let him show her he meant what he said. This was their beginning, not their end. If she thought he wouldn't fight to keep her, she was in for a surprise. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Eleven Shit, shit, shit, shit. She was so beyond screwed. The trip back to Springfield was wrought with uncomfortable silence interspersed with strained conversation, not to mention an inner war the likes of which she'd never experienced. Luxi had no idea how things had spiraled so wildly out of control, and empty promise to Grayson aside, she wasn't sure if she could face the next few weeks if he kept aiming hopeful glances her way. What she'd shared with Grayson had surpassed anything she'd felt since first embarking into the world with her mission. She'd entertained lovers who enjoyed feasting on a woman's pussy, but never with a touch indicating it meant more to the man than a quick roll in sack. The way Grayson had worshipped her with his mouth propelled her into foreign territory, and she hadn't known how to respond except to return the favor. The looks he gave her told her plainly they had only begun. How in the fuck was she supposed to handle this? Was she merely unversed in platonic relationships? Was that why she'd botched up Lucifer's orders so splendidly? Lucifer, who had issued the order that destroyed Grayson's marriage. In two thousand years, Luxi had not once had a job that directly correlated with a previous assignment. It could be coincidence—it likely was—but for the virtue that she had never had trouble following orders... 160

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Maybe Ava had affected her more than she bargained. Ava had freedom and love in her life. The true kind of love. Maybe seeing her with Dante had triggered a subconscious response in Luxi, a need to feel the same sort of bliss. Or maybe her original conjecture had been accurate. She was lust innate. Perhaps she couldn't turn it off, and Grayson's humanity kept him from realizing what he felt for her wasn't real. Luxi didn't know. The only thing she understood now was she was up a famous creek and had no means of finding her way to dry land. Even if Grayson's feelings were distorted beyond his control, it didn't change who he was at the core, and that was a person she had grown to like very much. A person who saw her despite her attempts to remain hidden. At any rate, Luxi was glad when Grayson dropped her off at her shithole apartment. She needed space from him—time to remember who she was, why she was here, and how quickly everything would be over. She just wished she'd gotten a second alone with Lucifer. He might have shed some light on this bizarre experiment. As it was, if something didn't start making sense soon, she'd have to schedule another meeting with the boss. Luxi had the horrible feeling she was starting to fall in love, and that was definitely a complication she didn't need. The most she could do was go to work and see this thing through. When it came to the end she would gather her bearings and move on. Therefore, when Luxi arrived at the campaign headquarters the next day she made a pointed attempt to 161

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avoid looking in the direction of Grayson's office, which turned out to not be much of a problem. Her attention was quickly claimed by the petite, skinny blonde sitting at her desk with an annoyingly bright smile plastered on her Barbieesque face. Luxi's brow furrowed. "Who the hell are you?" "Greetings," the blonde said in a perky, almost robotically cheerful voice. "My name is Cassie True. Are you Ms. Luxuria Daimon?" She stared. "Are you a singing telegram or something?" Cassie's annoyingly perfect smile spread wider, sending shivers across Luxi's skin and triggering her inner warning bell. The girl emitted no demonic energy stamp—the way the Sins detected unearthly creatures in their midst—but there was something ostensibly not right. An otherness she couldn't describe but knew not to question. "No," Cassie replied, her tone perplexed. "How does a telegram sing?" Mercifully, John appeared the next instant, his eyes wide and manic with the appearance of someone who hadn't slept in a week. "Oh, you're here," he said. "This is Cassie True. And no, it's not a stripper name. I already checked." Cassie nodded. "We have already become acquainted." "Yeah, whatever." John shook his head. "Listen, we got the rally in a couple days and about eighteen million things to get done between now and then, so whatever it is you need to do to get yourself motivated, do it now. Grayson chose a very bad time to have a midlife crisis, and for everyone he screwed 162

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over, I need to pick up the pieces. Cassie's gonna stick with you to try and get this done." "Ah, John," Luxi said. Whatever warm-fuzzies she'd initially experienced quickly evaporated. "I missed you. Did you miss me?" "Lady, by the grace of the sex-induced coma Grayson's in, you're not being shown the door. Don't push it." John paused, then flashed her a quick, almost amused grin. "Though you wouldn't be in the mood for a cigar, would you?" She smirked. "You'd just love to watch me suck it." "I believe he means cigar as a euphemism for male genitalia," Cassie supplied. "Thanks, Cass, but I think I could've worked that one out on my own." Luxi chuckled. Her gaze remained on John as he stalked off in a huff, murmuring irritably about crazy interns and how the universe had made him the punch-line without telling him the joke. Thus she was left alone with Cassie and a headful of conflict she couldn't rationalize. At least, she reasoned, the world had issued her something else to worry with aside from her turbulent feelings for Grayson. Cassie was most definitely a non-human whose origins were shaded and intentions were vague at best. Luxi didn't believe in coincidences, which made the blonde's sudden appearance very suspicious but, for the moment at least, nonthreatening enough for Luxi to not worry about showing the girl her back. Hopefully Cassie True would give her no reason to think otherwise. 163

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Grayson hadn't known it was possible to get closer to and farther from someone in the same step, but somehow he'd managed to do exactly that. It wasn't as though he hadn't seen it coming. Luxi wasn't one to go anywhere quietly, and for all the hell she raised at her sister's party, for all her obvious insecurities and presuppositions, she had surrendered with passionate fury he couldn't quite comprehend. What had happened afterward seemed hazy—a scene out of someone else's life—and for the distance to which he'd awakened the next morning, the whole encounter might as well have been imagined. She hadn't said much on the way home and he hadn't prompted her. Whatever bridges they'd crossed in Mississippi would remain crossed until they next spoke. It seemed reasonable Luxi wanted to maintain the professional veneer they'd briefly discussed while entangled in each other's arms. The campaign was nearly over and after the last ballot had been cast, they would be free to pursue whatever had blossomed between them without the lingering threat of public disgrace. His treacherous mind took him back to Maple Hill Inn. Luxi's mouth wrapped around his cock, sucking and teasing, pulling, stroking, dragging him down a path he'd ignored far too long. His tongue still tingled from the stolen licks of her pussy and his hungry mouth was more than ready for seconds. But damn it, he wasn't some prepubescent teen jerking off to a Victoria's Secret catalogue, and Luxi was anything but a quick fix. 164

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His office door closed. John stood on the other side, his eyes heavy and tired. "I'm not talking to you. Now sit down, shut up, and listen." Grayson rolled his eyes but didn't protest. Instead, he nodded and collapsed into his desk chair. "Hello to you too, John." "Let's get some things straight." John held up a hand and began counting off fingers. "I don't care if you had a good time. I don't care if you got laid. I don't care if you eloped. All I care about is this election ... and the rather disturbing lack of sanity you've exhibited in the last week, but hey. I'm just here to do the job you pay me for." "Who's the new girl?" "Cassie Ridiculous." John made a face. "I really think something out there is fucking with me. She's a new intern." "From Drury?" "Yeah. I didn't realize if I took a student from MSU, I had to take one from Drury, too." "Is that a thing?" John shook his head. "I don't know and I don't care. Just do me a favor and keep your dick in your pants around this one. She's already one twist short of a slinky, and I don't need her going around and talking about your genitalia." "What?" "Forget it. Senator Clark is concerned about security for the event, so we've scheduled a conference call on Thursday." Grayson sobered. "Have we received any more—" "Death threats?" "Yes." 165

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"No, but that doesn't mean anything." John sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, I want someone on you." "This is old news. I thought we were getting that Clinton guy." "He's on assignment." John growled, as though the cosmos had shifted specifically so his ideal bodyguard would be unavailable. "So we're gonna start interviewing candidates." "For the rally?" "For now until the election." "What?" "Well, your bout of stupidity reminded me how blind you can be. I don't like the idea of focusing specifically on the rally and leaving you vulnerable everywhere else. Until this guy's in handcuffs, we gotta presume he could be anywhere." Grayson frowned. "Maybe I'm just optimistic, but I've lived in this area all my life. We have some crazies, but assassination attempts just don't happen here." "Ask those blacks they lynched at the Square." "In 1906?" It was a stain on Springfield's history, no doubt, but over a century in the past. It seemed a strange point to bring up now. "Or the Springfield Three." Another seemingly unrelated crime. In the nineties, three women had disappeared without a trace. They were never found and no one was apprehended for the crime. Every now and then, Dateline would run a special and stir up chatter among locals. It had definitely taken everyone in the city by surprise, but hardly constituted a pattern. 166

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"There was that school teacher who fucked his students and killed his family, too," John pointed out. "He was acquitted." "Still." John grunted. To him, a man's guilt or innocence in familial homicide was incidental when testifying. "My point is crazy doesn't have an address. You can't adapt the it'll never happen here blinders because crazy happens everywhere. This whack-job isn't your typical batshit insane radical. You think Hinckley was all there upstairs? People get pissed at the government and they want someone to blame. People here don't like gays or women or minorities or anyone who's not them, and since you're running on a platform opposing their bigotry, you become the poster-boy of all things bad. It's not about the polls or the debates or anything aside from you being someone accessible that can be used to make a point." "You make Springfield sound like ... I dunno, something not Springfield. I'm not the only reasonable man in town." Grayson paused. "Heck, these past few years, this place has been a breeding ground for all kinds of more liberal ideas. Jackson Days—" "Is a convention that happens once a year that most of these jackasses know shit about." "It still happens here." John grumbled. "You want to get killed, don't you?" "What?" "I'm over here trying to save your life and you're off somewhere else. Just in case you didn't hear me the first time: no place is safe from crazy." John looked damn near manic, himself. Grayson opted not to point that out. "This 167

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guy?" his campaign manager continued. "The guy who sent you the bullet? He's the mayor of koo-koo town." "I don't think you'll find anyone here that disagrees with you." "Then why aren't you on board?" "With what? Not dying?" Grayson laughed shortly. "Sign me up for not dying." "Fine. Then I'm gonna get some burly guy named Scratch to cover your ass morning, noon and night." He quirked a grin. "Scratch?" "Yes." "I don't think a bodyguard is going to do much good." John shrugged. "Well, unless you can explain to me how getting one could hurt, you're gonna take it and like it." "Fine." "Fine." "Fine." "Fine." John sighed, his gaze at last breaking away. Though Grayson didn't follow his shift in focus, he found himself looking to Luxi too often through the day to question where John's mind had ventured. "And do me a favor," his friend added. "I think I know what's coming." "Please, for me, stay away from Luxi." "Look, John—" "I don't know what you see in her and I don't care. This whole thing happened at the shittiest of shitty times. I know you like her and I know in a perfect world this wouldn't be a thing, but this is not a perfect world." John steepled his hands 168

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together. "Do not, do not, do not give them any other leverage. You're already a liberal preacher who couldn't keep his family together." Heat flushed Grayson's cheeks. "Hey—" "That's not me talking, that's them. That's what they say. Throw in a Penthouse pinup and you throw yourself in line with that congressman who snapped pictures of his dick." John fell quiet, his chest heaving. He stared at Grayson for a long moment, then averted his gaze and sighed. "You like her, don't you?" "Yes," Grayson replied. "A lot." "Figures, huh? You finally look at a woman and she's ... her." "There's nothing wrong with Luxi." "Except her timing and her come-fuck-me attitude." In all honesty, Grayson knew the election was the driving force behind John's words and actions, behind the crazed desperation shining in his eyes, yet every slight against Luxi's character had him surging with the unnatural need to cause major violence. He'd never gotten himself into a tussle over a woman's honor, though for lack of opportunity rather than lack of conviction. Were it anyone but John, he likely would have landed himself with an assault charge by now. As it was, the most he could do was bear in mind John's words didn't match his intent, no matter how hostile or insulting. Also, he didn't think Luxi would be amused by an act of chivalry. She was the sort of woman who would take him through the ringer for assuming she needed defending. Maybe that was why he felt he loved her. 169

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Grayson frowned and shook his head, warning off the thought before it could make impact. The entire course of their extraordinarily brief relationship had been set on maximum speed since her gaze first roamed the contours of his body. Everything had spiraled completely out of the realm where control lived, and yet the more he protested the sentiment, the more adamant it became. Forcing, prodding, shoving its way front and center until the hard reality became too much to bear. He wasn't in love with Luxi. Not now, not yet. But he knew himself well enough to realize it was where he was headed if he didn't detour and quick. "We talked over the weekend," Grayson said. John's hands came up. "If you did anything else, I don't wanna know about it." "That's not... Look, we both know this is a bad idea right now." "Understatement." "But she wants to wait until after the election to see if whatever is between us is worth exploring." John blinked. "So you're ... you're not..." "Involved?" "Sleeping with her?" Grayson tensed, warding off a blush. "No more than you're sleeping with Nina." "Leave Nina out of this." "Then please stop talking about any part of my sex life." "Fair enough." John was quiet for a long beat. "In the meantime, this death threat business—" 170

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"I'll consent to a bodyguard." John smirked. "You were never getting out of it." "To be fair, I knew that." "Good. I'll start vetting candidates this afternoon. Kiss your alone-time goodbye." Grayson offered a thin smile. "I can hardly wait." Luxi's determination to avoid Grayson turned out to be in vain; he was virtually inaccessible all day, interviewing a number of potential bodyguards to keep his lickable ass protected between now and the election. It was for the best. Luxi certainly didn't need to add worrying over his safety to her concerns. She was already in a mess over the idea she might be breaking her number one rule and letting her heart do the talking. The rest of her attention was absorbed in Cassie—namely, keeping Cassie from noticing her cover story was under suspicion. The more time she spent with the girl, the more dead certain she became that something was seriously off. Likewise, the longer she went without determining what sort of creature she was dealing with, the more anxious she became. Hell demons emitted a strong energy signature the likes of which a Sin could feel from miles away. Mammon of the Binsfeld Brigade—a self-elected group of snide assholes who had pined for the Sins' job for years—had recently utilized his energy signature to lure Ava into the open so her powers could be tested. Hell demons were a different breed from earthbound demons. Most of the uglies that went bump in the night were wired completely neutral in the whole good versus 171

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bad debate, even if it didn't stop a good chunk from committing atrocities simply because they perceived themselves to be evil. Even still, neutral or not, Luxi always knew when one was near. Their vibes were unmistakable. Cassie radiated something, all right—something any creature from the pit would immediately identify as otherness, even if the source remained a mystery. Luxi had started entertaining a variety of nonsense possibilities, the most laughable of which had begun sounding more and more reasonable the more she considered it. Cassie didn't feel like anything here or below because she came from above. It was a ridiculous notion for many reasons. After all, Luxi had been around the block more than enough times to have already encountered every manner of creature Paradise had to throw at her. Seraphs, cherubs, archangels, dominions, guardians, watchers, and so and so forth—the holy staff was a tad difficult to avoid where she went. Yet for each angel she'd met, each sub-ranking of Big J's toadies, she'd never felt anything remotely similar to whatever force Cassie exuded. This was a creature of a different color, and Luxi was determined to figure her out. "Hey," Luxi said as Cassie began picking up her space at the end of the day. "You wanna let off some steam?" "Yes!" the girl responded brightly. "Very much so." She paused then, looking perplexed. "How exactly does one 'let off' steam?" 172

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"This might be a one-horse town, but Nina says they got a kickin' nightlife." When Cassie's confusion failed to clear, Luxi sighed and rolled her eyes. "You wanna go get a drink?" "A drink of what?" She laughed and shook her head. "You know what? It's better if you're surprised." "Oh yes," Cassie replied cheerfully. "I love surprises!" Thirty minutes later, sitting at the counter of the first downtown bar Luxi spotted, the surprise-loving mystery chick tossed back what had to be her first shot of whiskey and made a face and choked so hard she nearly toppled off her stool. "Alcohol!" "Yes," Luxi observed, raising her own shot in a toast. Cassie's hands curled around her throat, her eyes wide with shock and the sting of betrayal. "You fooled me into imbibing alcohol!" "Hey, you're the one who flashed her ID." "I did not expect such trickery." Luxi tossed back her shot and slammed the glass onto the counter. "In a fucking bar. Jesus, are you for real?" Cassie pursed her lips. "I am authentic, so yes." "This is how we bond. Gal pals. You wanted to come along. Figured you could handle your booze." The bartender, who had meandered away at some point during their trade, returned just in time to fill the lull of silence. "'Nother drink, sweet thing?"

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To Luxi's surprise, Cassie nodded and slid the shot glass across the counter. She choked again as she threw it back, but damn if she didn't take it like a trooper. "The room is fuzzy," she observed, then giggled loud enough to attract attention from a small table of hornylooking hicks. Granted, the mullet fan club had been eyeballing them since they walked through the door. "You're a real lightweight, aren't you?" Luxi drawled. "I's not sapposed ta drink." A real lightweight. "Yeah, well, when you have the wussiest hangover in the history of everything, don't come bitchin' to me. You ordered the damn shot." "He told me to be bad." Luxi perked up. "What?" Cassie giggled again, and were she not witnessing the whole thing, Luxi wouldn't have believed it. The only people who got drunk off two paltry shots were babies and people who had never touched liquor. Not that Luxi made a habit of getting infants inebriated, but in two thousand years she'd seen a whole hell of a lot. Another shot went down without so much as a gasp. The merciful thing would be to stop her, but Luxi was already this far in, and damn if this wasn't easier than she thought. "I don't know how to be bad," Cassie whined. "You show me, Luxi. Show me." "Yeah!" cried a drunken redneck. "You gals can be bad right here on this here table. We don't mind!" Luxi rolled her eyes and aimed a small energy bolt at one of his chair legs. He crashed loudly and his friends roared with 174

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delight. Thankfully the lot of them were too drunk to ask questions. "Who said you need to be bad?" she pressed. Cassie shook her head. "No. No. Can't say. It's a seeeeecret. Shhhh." "Cass—" "He be mad if I says something." "He doesn't have to know." "He knows. He always knows." Her brow furrowed. "Knows is a funny word, ya knows?" "Cassie—" "Knows, knows, knows, knows, knows—" "What is it I'm not supposed to know?" The bartender refilled Cassie's glass. It was gone the next instant. Luxi quirked a brow. "Getting a taste for it, are you?" She released another melodious laugh. "Alcohol is fun. And bad. He'll be so proud of me." "Cassie—" "How's I'm gonna be bad? I tell you." She grinned. "Like this. I be the baddest Virtue ever." Luxi blinked. "Virtue? Whoa, whoa, whoa, back up." "I don't wanna fall over." "A Virtue as in... As in... The Seven Virtues?" Cassie looked at her blankly, shrugged, and held up her glass for more. Virtue. Oh holy shit. This was a whole new thing. [Back to Table of Contents] 175

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Chapter Twelve Though her last conversation with Lucifer regarding the proper channels through which to contact him had left very little room for free interpretation, Luxi had a feeling this was one of those rare times in which Pixley's job was of lesser relevance than her news. It didn't seem to matter one way or another. As it was, Luxi could honestly give a crap whether or not the boss grew upset with her, as she still had a question or two, herself. Still, her sense of self-preservation and intrigue was greater than her frustrated anger; holding out on a development like a walking, talking, blonde and bubbly Virtue was likely grounds for another Whytecliff-like intervention ... and Ava's good fortune was something that likely did not transfer between siblings. Thus the devil stood in Luxi's rented living room, studying the unconscious blonde stretched on the sofa. "Curious," Lucifer murmured, crossing his arms and tilting his head. "She looks so lifelike." Luxi snickered. "That feeling won't last long. Wait until she wakes up. I don't think I've seen anyone get this drunk this fast." She sighed, glancing at Lucifer. "So ... good use of the 'go around Pixley' rule?" He arched a brow. "There is no good use of that rule." "Yet you have not chewed me a new asshole, so I'm gonna count that as a win." 176

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"My wrath is momentarily on hold on account of my utter bewilderment at your impromptu houseguest." Lucifer took a step forward and sighed. "He did it. The bastard really did it." "For what it's worth, I don't think the Virtues have been around all that long." "Is that so?" "She gave it up way too early. What she is." Lucifer smirked. "A lack of resolve does not necessarily signify inexperience, my dear. When Jev and I spoke after the ordeal with Avaritia, he indicated he had known about the Sins for quite some time. As far as we know, your friend here might be as old as you." "Well, she don't have game, that's for sure." Luxi sighed again and crossed her arms. "She said she needed me to tell her how to be bad. Or something." "Bad, you say?" "He needed her to be bad." Lucifer's brow furrowed, then he nodded as though understanding. If he had reached an epiphany, though, he kept it to himself. "Interesting." "Just interesting?" "Well, there are a variety of words I'm sure would fit this situation. That happens to be one of them." His focus shifted back to the sleeping blonde before he stepped forward and knelt beside the sofa. "As it is, I don't see the virtue in talking about her when we can speak with her, do you?" Luxi shook her head. "The 'virtue'? Really?" "You act as though you've never heard a pun before." Lucifer grinned, gaze still intent on Cassie. "All right," he 177

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murmured gently, his left hand hovering over her face. "Rise and shine." Luxi watched bemusedly as Cassie's eyes fluttered open with the same lazy disregard as any mortal would in climbing out of an inebriated slumber. With as quickly as the selfproclaimed Virtue had had rendered herself intoxicated, the hard lesson concerning the bitch of a hangover would likely be all she needed to swear off alcohol for the rest of eternity. As it was, Cassie barely had time to stretch when the realization of whose company she was in exploded across her face. She squeaked inelegantly and sat up, eyes wide and her small chest heaving gasps of air. "Oh sweet Beholder!" Lucifer grinned. "That answers my first question. You know who I am." Cassie nodded nervously, her focus shifting to Luxi. "You fooled me! I have never imbibed once in my whole existence! What is the meaning of this?" "Hey, sweetheart, I hardly shoved those drinks down that pretty little throat of yours." Luxi arched a brow. "Besides, you're supposed to be bad, aren't you?" "I am not wicked!" "Of course not, darling," Lucifer said sweetly, patting her head like she was a cherished pet. "I'm sure this is all a simple misunderstanding. Why don't we clear the air?" Cassie's brow furrowed and she again nodded nervously. "Okay." He nodded. "Okay. I assume you're acquainted with my friend, Luxuria." Luxi offered a little wave. "What up, girl?" 178

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"Yes," Cassie whispered loudly, her eyes large and fearful. "You were sent here on assignment, weren't you?" Lucifer said. "Can you tell me what the assignment is?" "My word is protected by his power," the blonde replied. "I do not have to forfeit anything." "Of course," Lucifer agreed before flashing her another winning smile. "But I tell you, Cassie, it would help me a great deal if you would." "Oh." "Yes." Luxi frowned. "