Pure & Sinful (Pure Souls) - By Killian McRae Page 0,59

slowly lowered her legs to the floor. “But the consequences… I don’t give a damn about myself, but I can’t ask you to pay for my sins.”

His ache for her, both in his heart and in his body, was excoriatingly potent. If he didn’t back down now, he knew he wouldn’t. And so, instead of the mild acceptance he had expected, he felt the wetness of her lips against his, the last tendrils of resistance tying him to the sake of his mortal soul let loose.

Riona stood just an inch short of him in her heels, and her strength wasn’t exactly lacking. In a sweep and shift, she took him by the shoulders and pushed him against the wall. Before he knew what was happening or could offer any defense, she was crawling up his body and positioning herself over his still very solid and extremely ready member.

And God help him if he didn’t have his hands on her hips, helping to navigate her.

“Voi actom auditat nuc,” was the last thing they both heard before their worlds were plunged into silence.

Marc’s legs fell out from under him, bringing Riona crashing down on top of him. But, thank the Lord, not in a sexy way. In fact, in a way that made his face turn red and brought a yelp of his inner little girl ringing from his throat. Though he couldn’t hear it, of course, he knew from the raw pain that ripped his vocal chords, that’s what it sounded like.

Riona took his face into her hands and pulled it up. He made out “Are you okay?” from the movement of her lips. Though winded, he nodded.

The witch didn’t hesitate for a minute. She scrambled off Marc and left him to straighten himself up. Rising to his feet, he saw Riona and Dee jump up on the platform where the DJ was secured in a vice grip by Persephone. Despite thrashing more than an Amish man on harvest day, the ugly brute was making no gain against the goddess’s superhuman biceps.

Dee manhandled the mixing table, flipping it over in one mighty heave and bringing the music to an end. The crowd might as well have turned to stone, the way they froze on the spot. Realizing what was already so obvious to Dee and knowing the danger had died with the speakers, Marc threw off the deafness charm just in time to hear Riona rattle off a vanquishing spell, sending the DJ’s body into a puff of smoke and Persephone stumbling backwards.

Dee jumped off the stage after helping his sister to her feet. Riona followed. Marc, out of breath and confused, shriveled like a head of lettuce under a hot light when he caught himself in Dee’s glare.

The demigod pointed once at Marc, then at Riona.

“You and you, with me. Now.”

Chapter 18

The donuts weren’t the only things with holes. Though invisible to the naked eye, Riona and Marc had a matching pair in their heads.

“What the Jim Dandy fuck were you thinking?”

Dee struggled with his volume amid the gaggle of middle-of-the-night patrons at Donuts DeJour. Not that he thought any of them gave a damn about anything he was saying. And frankly, a handful of them were suspicious, dark world wash-ups anyways. Failed demons reportedly really enjoyed a midnight crueller.

Riona’s expression wore “fuck you” like it was the latest thing off the Paris runway. “It was the charm, Dee. You honestly believe someone as green as I could stand up to something Asmodeus himself was dishing out? The demon has been heating things up since the Ice Age.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Dee said sweetly. “I didn’t realize you only signed up to fight middle-management evil.” With a blink, the scowl returned to his face. He focused his attention on Marc. “And you, Father Feely. I thought we had this all sorted out with our little powwow the other night? Do you not truly grasp that you were within six inches of damning yourself to Hell and becoming a demon?”

Marc remained nonplussed. Without looking so much as concerned, he pulled a white mug of caffeine sludge to his lips, and rattled off, “About nine inches, actually,” before drawing a sip.

The coffee never reached his mouth. It became a Jackson Pollack-inspired masterpiece on the wall adjacent the table at which they sat.

Dee leapt to his feet, his chair demonstrating the principle of Newton’s first law of motion as he lunged forward and plunged his fist down on the tiled tabletop, cracking it straight