Demon's Kiss by V. J. Devereaux

as young as thirteen kill without
thought and a man with harsh, rough features throw himself selflessly in the
line of fire for another.
    There was an air of strength and command about this one
though that reminded her strongly of Asmodeus.
    He bore scars on him too, as did Asmodeus, but his were
older. Far older. She remembered what Asmodeus had said about what the priests
had done to some of the Daemonae. To one in particular. And she shuddered
inwardly.
    Ashtoreth.
    Seeing the scars on him, she understood and her heart bled
for him.
    That Daemonae studied her in turn.
    “I am Ashtoreth,” he said. “You have news of Asmodeus?”
    So she’d been right.
    Ashtoreth. She remembered the shadows in Asmodeus’ eyes when
he’d talked of the past. Ashtoreth been one of those the priests had summoned
with the Book and tortured. The marks they had left on him were
unmistakable.
    There was a cold and terrible fury in his eyes when he
mentioned Asmodeus.
    “Sssh,” she said and gestured for him to keep his voice down.
“Yes.”
    Another of them looked at her slightly askance, his skin
like polished ebony, with shimmers of silver that slid beneath it like
moonlight on a primordial lake. In the cold light his eyes were a lambent
silver touched with aqua.
    “I’m Ba’al. Hearing your warning, we put silence around this
room.”
    There was no doubt in Gabriel’s mind that Asmodeus had been
correct in his description of his people.
    Every single one of them were tall, gorgeous, sexier than
hell, beautifully built and generously endowed beneath the light, open vests
and loose, drawstring pants they wore.
    Asmodeus had been right in more than one way.
    Gabriel’s body responded nearly automatically to them, to
the Daemonae, to so much testosterone, to so many whirling, glowing eyes,
twitching tails and flared wings in the same room.
    Intense sexual heat flashed through her.
    But she belonged to Asmodeus. She was his.
    Already her heart ached for him, yearned for him.
    Was it possible she truly loved him? In so short a time?
    There was an undeniable connection between them. She knew
his mind now as she knew no other, intimately. You couldn’t lie, mind to mind.
She knew his honor, his courage, his determination.
    A kind of breathless wonder filled her, a sudden stillness,
a certainty, as both heart and soul lightened.
    She took a deep breath.
    Her career had always been important to her, she was good at
what she did and she knew it. She was also a woman in a field dominated by men.
And a small woman at that. Where a man could be merely good, she had to be
outstanding. She dared not make the kinds of mistakes in relationships a man
could make, could not stand the slightest stain on her record or have her
judgment called into question. So work had taken up all her time and there had
been no room for anything but the most casual relationships, all kept firmly
separate from work.
    The few men who had come close had, in the end, not matched
the qualifications Gabriel required—a sense of honor, intelligence and a sex
drive that could match her own.
    Until now.
    She couldn’t deny the truth. She had fallen in love with
Asmodeus.
    But that was for later.
    Gabriel looked at those who had come.
    “Well, you won’t believe this,” she said, with a wry grin,
“but my name is Gabriel.”
    Every one of them straightened a little to stare at her in
bemusement, and a few with outright amusement, including Ashtoreth for all his
apparent sternness. His features lightened. It was just so startling, that
change.
    “Truth,” she said, holding up her hand as she would if she
were taking an oath.
    Shaking his head, Ashtoreth said, smiling, his tone amused,
“Trust Asmodeus to find himself an angel for his mishea .”
    Despite the circumstances, she had to smile back but time
was growing short. She had to hurry this up.
    “I need your help if you want to set him free.”
    Once more she was the focus of a dozen or so lambent eyes.
    Another of