“We’ll be needing one more room.”
Gray scrubbed a hand over his mouth as he said, “Oh, man. You were burned by the babe.”
Lyric wasn’t a candidate for embarrassment. He chuckled at both Gray and Shivaun. “A demon’s gotta try.” Then he pulled her aside and whispered, “It’s not like either one of us actually sleeps or uses facilities. We’re only taking a room for pretense’s sake.”
“’Tis the problem. Pretense. Our kind may no’ use rooms for those things, but we do use rooms for other things.” Her inference was unmistakable.
As he processed the visual that jumped to mind, his eyes caught every stray beam of light in the tiny lobby and reflected in a gleam worthy of a demon. He raised his chin to punctuate that he’d reached a decision and took two long strides back to the desk.
“We’ll need another room. We don’t care what sort.”
“We don’t have another,” the clerk said.
“You do,” Lyric insisted.
“We don’t.” The clerk pulled back a little as a furrow formed on his forehead. He glanced down at the phone, which had started ringing. “Excuse me.” He picked up the vintage receiver. “Hello?” Pause. “Oh. Of course. Yes.” He hung up and looked at Lyric. “It seems we have a room on the top floor, sir. It’s a bit cozy.”
“Does that mean small?”
“Yes.”
“Fine. Put the name Gray Darby on that one. And give the best room to the, um,” he looked at Shivaun, “lady.”
She responded to his capitulation with a smile so brilliant it outshone the contemporary sputnik-style chandelier. On the spot Lyric pledged again to do whatever it took to see that smile every day.
Turning to Gray, Lyric said, “Go stow your stuff and check out your room then then meet us in…” He looked at the little white card in his hand. “313.”
The kid nodded. He looked nervous as hell and Lyric hoped it was the novelty of travel and new experiences and not second thoughts. Not that the demon would feel guilty. Guilt wasn’t one of his things.
“You okay?” Lyric borrowed one of the most overused questions of the modern era because it was quick and easy.
“Yeah.” Gray attempted a smile that didn’t quite make it all the way to sincere while his eyes flicked between Lyric and Shivaun. “Good.”
“Okay. See you in a few minutes.”
Gray nodded again. He looked ready to flee. He carried his duffle bag that was part of a carefully orchestrated vintage collection. The bag and everything in it had been made prior to 1967.
As Lyric slid the card over the reader on the door of the room and gained entrance, he said, “That was impressive. How you handled Gray. You have an advantage over all demons who’ve come before you.”
“What’s that?”
“You understand humans.”
She scoffed. “If you think there’s such a thing as understandin’ humans, then you truly know nothin’ about them.”
He motioned for Shivaun to proceed, followed her in and surprised her by spinning her around so that her back was flat against the closed door.
“What…?”
She had no time to finish that sentence before he pressed the length of his body against hers and stole a breathless kiss that seemed to go on forever. Her eyes drifted closed as she let the ecstasy of seduction seep into her body. She was thinking Lyric’s scent was a combination of music and moonlight. Of course, music and moonlight don’t have scents. She was registering his underlying essence, what humans call magic.
When, at length, he pulled back with a satisfied grin, she said, “Are you sure you’re not a sex demon? Like Rosie’s da?”
His grin widened. “Ah. You’re a flatterer, ye are,” he said in his best northern Irish accent. “But whereas I can be a music demon and skilled lover, the sex demon you mention cannot sing for shit.”
She frowned. “Why would he want to sing for shit?”
Lyric laughed. “It’s just an exp…” Shy felt the knock on the door at her back. She pushed Lyric away and checked herself in the mirror. “Kisses only make you look more perfect, Shivaun. I’d always thought the concept of ‘stealing’ kisses was silly. I’m having a change of heart.”
She rolled her eyes, but was smiling as Lyric opened the door for Gray. Her manner changed within seconds of reading Gray’s energy.
In a schoolteacher’s tone, she said, “Dougray Darby. “You need to tell the truth right now. Somethin’s not right. If you’re havin’ another thought about this, ‘twill no’ hurt the demon’s feelin’s if you tell him so.” She looked at