Demonic and Deserted (Eternally Yours Book 4) (2 page)

“Yeah,” he groaned. “I know.”

I so wished I had the ability to bitch-slap him through the phone. “Then I suggest you stock up on sunblock,” I said in a voice dripping with so much sugar, I imagined him drowning in it. “Have a nice day,” I hissed before hanging up.

Damn, that had felt amazingly good after the many times Lovelace has tried to screw me over since my untimely demise by electrocution. First he’d sent me to the Penthouse, aka Heaven, where I got to eat all the cheesecake I wanted, without getting explosive diarrhea, and have sex with the hottest stud east of the pearly gates. Then he’d sent the Grim Reaper back for my soul. Apparently, Lovelace had miscalculated my credits, and I was actually supposed to have been on level two in Purgatory, which was one step above the top level in Hell. The place had stunk to high heaven, not to mention it was eternally dark and infested with rats.

Thankfully, the grim who collected me also had a crush on me, and I’d had the hots for him, too. I had the melted panties to prove it. The grim, Aedan O’Connor, lent me enough credits to get to the top level of Purgatory and even moved me into an apartment in his building. It didn’t take long for Aedan and me to find our own slice of heaven. Unfortunately, a sadistic demon’s blood-slave trapped me in Hell not long after, and Aedan had to go down and rescue me.

That’s when I knew I’d found a keeper. I mean, he’d risked an eternity of damnation to save my soul. I knew guys from the 1900’s were chivalrous, but this went beyond laying his coat in a puddle so I could cross it. And who did that shit, anyway? If guys really threw their coats over puddles every time a nice ass walked by, they’d go bankrupt from all the dry cleaning bills.

“Ashley!” a familiar booming voice called from the other room. “Where’s my damned coffee?”

Ugh. I tensed up every time my asshole boss said my name. “Coming, Mr. Head.”

I looked at the phone. Thankfully, the other two callers had hung up. I stood and smoothed down the sides of my dress, a 1940s number my grandma had leant me, a starched blue dress with little white polka dots, a wide white collar, and matching sash. Despite the fact it made my tits look like torpedoes, I loved how it flared at the hips, concealing the extra bit of fluff on my behind and thighs. Aedan liked my curves, though. He said I had the body of a “real woman,” and he preferred to have something to hold onto at night. 

I imagined myself a pinup girl as I sauntered to the coffee machine and poured Mr. Head a tall cup of steaming liquid. Then I proceeded to add the “enhancers,” as he liked to call them, namely a little milk and sugar and a lot of rum.

“Hurry the hell up!” he yelled.

I twitched, then proceeded to stir longer than necessary, adding more coffee until it reached the rim of his cup. I inwardly smiled, imagining Mr. Head spilling hot liquid down his shirt when he tried to drink it.

My boss could kiss my ass. The guy’s nag-o-meter had been stuck in overdrive ever since I’d landed this job at the Creditors Union, a facility where we managed all things relating to credits. Credits were pretty damn important in Purgatory. If a soul earned enough credits, he or she could move up another level. Purgatory had twelve levels total, floors two through thirteen. Level fourteen was what we ascended referred to as the Penthouse, aka Heaven, where everything was perfect, from the cheesecake to the sex. Oh, and I’d lived in my dream home, complete with a cappuccino maker, margarita machine, and my own personal valet. Of course it took a whole lot more credits to move up there, and since Aedan and I had been bumped down to level ten after he got canned by the Grim Union for losing his spare scythe, we had a heck of a long wait before we ever made it back to Heaven.

Too damn bad, because I couldn’t imagine myself working for an asshole like Head—or as I had affectionately named him, Mr. DickHead—for another thirty to forty years. DickHead’s first name was Richard, so he was asking for that moniker. I could only imagine what his childhood had been like. What I wouldn’t have given to have been a fly on the wall during classroom roll call. “Head? Head? Is there a Dick Head in the class?”

I sauntered into DickHead’s office and set the coffee on his desk with a thud, not caring when it sloshed over the rim of the cup. “Here you go, sir,” I said perkily, stifling a burst of laughter when he swore and began mopping up the spill with a paper napkin.

I loved to mess with my boss. I couldn’t help it. I suspected he tolerated my attitude because he knew nobody else would put up with his bi-polar moods, and by bi-polar, I meant he alternated between being an asshole and being a major asshole. Today he was definitely being a major asshole, making me work when I’d specifically asked for this Saturday off.

My eyes widened when I checked the ancient, rusty clock on his bookcase. It was almost three! I was getting married in three hours!

Head waved me away with a flick of the wrist after he threw the napkin in the wastebasket by his desk. “That will be all,” he said gruffly. “Get back to work.”

I stared down at his big, balding head. He needed to work on his comb-over. His hair was so thin in places, it looked like someone had slapped his noggin with a few wet noodles. He really did have a ginormous head for such a little man. I imagined he was one of those bobble-head dolls. I often wondered what would happen to him if I flicked his chin. Would his head wobble back and forth for ten minutes? 

“Mr. Head,” I said sternly.

He looked up at me with an impatient gleam in his eyes. I hated when my boss gave me those looks, as if I was as insignificant as the mold growing on the faded floral walls. Level ten really did have a mold problem, and I didn’t think there was enough bleach in all of Purgatory to clean it up. 

He motioned to the paperwork scattered across his desk. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

Grrr. He’d made a mess of the files I had so neatly organized for him. I had done all the work, filling out expense reports and adding up numbers on ancient calculators, since Purgatory was too cheap to invest in decent computers and accounting software. All he had to do was sign off on them. Instead, he’d combed through every page and scattered them in the process. I often wondered if he created extra work just to make himself look useful when the truth of the matter was I did both our jobs, even though he was earning double my credits.

Kind of reminded me of a saying we had in Purgatory. “In life unchained, in death unjust.” I’d worked for an asshole back on Earth, and now that I was dead, I was stuck working for an even bigger poop chute.

I tilted my chin, scowling at his balding buffalo head with hardened resolve. I’d prevented an apocalypse in Hell. I would not let this prick intimidate me. “I need to leave early.”

“What?” His pale face reddened, and his eyes bugged as he jumped from his chair, nearly knocking over his coffee. “You can’t go early. You’ve got cases to process.”

Was it my imagination, or did his head bobble?

“Mr. Head,” I said with an impatient groan, “I’m not supposed to be at work today.”

He puffed up his scrawny chest. “Neither am I, but you don’t see me complaining.”

I clenched my hands until my nails broke skin. “But it’s my wedding day.”

His jaw dropped, and he looked at me as if I’d grown another appendage, or in his case, asked for five extra minutes on my thirty-minute lunch break. “You’re getting married? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Okay, I really needed to get out of here. The urge to flick his head was too tempting. “I told you about this two months ago, and I’ve reminded you every week since.” I brushed past him and pushed aside paper, pointing at the glaring red letters: ASH’S WEDDING. “Look. It’s on your calendar.”

He scratched the back of his scalp, crunching the gobs of hair gel that kept his few follicles in place. “Shit.”

I folded my arms, glaring at him. “The ceremony is in three hours.”

“Three hours?” He threw up his hands. “What the hell are you doing here?”

How had I known he’d somehow make this out to be my fault? “Because you threatened to fire me if I didn’t come in.”

His chest deflated as he fell into his padded leather chair. He pointed at me with an accusatory scowl. “All right, but I expect you back at work first thing Monday morning.”

All I had to do was lean over and flick his head. I could tell him it was an accident, that I had head-flicking Tourette’s, or maybe I was trying to scare away a gnat. I tucked my hands in my armpits. “I’ll be on my honeymoon, Mr. Head.”

“Honeymoon?” he snarled, looking at me as if I’d just let an explosive, wet fart. “How long is that supposed to last?”

I gritted my teeth. “A week.”

“A week!” He jumped from his chair again, and his ginormous head was definitely bobbling. “I can’t go without coffee for a week.”

Seriously? That’s all he thought I was good for? Or was he more upset he wouldn’t have his slave to do his job for him? “I’m sure my temp replacement knows how to brew coffee.”

He pouted, falling into his chair once again before hanging his head in his hands. “I hate dealing with temps.”

“You’ll survive,” I grumbled. 

Just one flick, Ash. One little flick. His head’s so big, he might not even feel it.

“She won’t make it strong enough,” he whined like a spoiled toddler, angry after being sent to time-out, “and she’ll probably add too much creamer. Why do you have to get married, anyway?”

I set aside my obsession to flick my boss’s head as Aedan’s bright blue eyes and sexy, slanted grin flashed in my mind. I swear I felt my heart doing summersaults. Despite our outdated level-ten apartment, with its shag carpet and puke-green 70s refrigerator and my horny grandpa living in the spare bedroom, my afterlife was still pretty close to perfect when Aedan was holding me in his embrace. I almost didn’t mind hearing the creaking of Grandpa’s sex swing through our thin walls or working for eternity’s biggest douche.

“Because I love him, Mr. Head,” I said on a dreamy sigh. 

The jerk actually had the nerve to laugh before waving me off as if I was a fly buzzing around his head. “Fifty years from now, you two will be so tired of looking at each other, you’ll be begging to work weekends.”

I tensed. “I seriously doubt that.”

“You’ve got a lot to learn, Ashley MacLeod,” he chuckled. “Eternity is a long damn time. That ball and chain will feel like a noose.” He wrapped his hands around his neck as if for emphasis.

I turned up my chin. “Aedan is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. He risked his soul to save me from hell.”

“He’ll come to regret it,” he snickered. “You both will.”

I seriously doubted that, because Aedan was nothing like Mr. DickHead. My jerkface boss had started out on level two sixty years ago for good reason. He’d been bumped up to level ten so quickly because his wife had loaned him the credits. If anyone had any regrets, I was positive
she
did.

I walked toward the door. “Thanks for the pep talk, Mr. Head.” I waved in his direction, not bothering to give him another glance. “Have a nice day.”

“Enjoy the honeymoon while it lasts,” he called while I was slamming the door behind me.

Mr. Head had no idea what the hell he was talking about. His marriage was probably dismal because Mrs. Head hated being committed to a fat-headed little douche. I’d had the unpleasant experience of meeting Mrs. Head once. The woman was a miserable mess. I could see it in the rigid way she walked, as if she had a flagpole wedged up her ass. She’d been nice enough to me, but whenever her husband addressed her, lines of remorse framed her eyes and mouth, lines no amount of Botox could erase. Yeah, the woman was miserable, but I didn’t have to be. For starters, Aedan was nothing like Head. Sure he had his flaws, but being an incompetent idiot wasn’t one of them. 

Aedan was more than competent, especially when it came to dusting demons, and then there was that other thing he was really good at. Really, really good. Without spilling too many details, let’s just say he had one hell of a talented tongue. Mmmm. Just thinking about making love to Aedan set my panties on fire. I so couldn’t wait to be married to that man, and I especially couldn’t wait until we scorched the sheets on our honeymoon. 

* * *

I
walked through the door to our cramped apartment and shrugged off my jacket and heels with a groan.

Aedan came out of the bedroom, looking debonair in a tailored black suit that was at least a century out of date. He had on one of those fat burgundy ties I think was called a cravat, a satin vest, and a high white collar. He’d grown out his sideburns, and they blended with his wavy hair, making him look like he’d just stepped out of a Jane Austen novel.

Wow, he was a delicious hunk of man meat. I couldn’t believe he was going to be all mine.

When he saw me gaping at him in the doorway, his brow furrowed and his normally bright blue eyes turned a dark cobalt. He stomped across our puke-green shag carpet with muffled steps. Grabbing my shoulders, he looked down at me with a pout.  “Ash, what took you so long?”

I rolled my eyes. “You know I work for Purgatory’s biggest prick.”

He tucked a strand of loose hair behind my ear, that bottom lip of his hanging so low, I was tempted to nibble it.

“I wish you’d quit that job.” 

I jerked back. “So it will take us twice as long to get to the top?”

He pulled me into his arms, looking at me with an intensity that made my knees wobble. “I don’t care how long it takes, as long as we’re together.”

God, I loved this man. I leaned up, wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders, and ran my hands through his thick, wavy hair. I batted my lashes, flashing my naughty, but pretending to be innocent, smile. “What do you say we start this honeymoon early?”

He growled in response, claiming me with one exquisite, panty-melting kiss. I had no idea how long our lips were locked. Long enough to make that uncomfortable ache between my thighs swell into a throbbing need, and long enough to saturate my undies to the point I knew I’d need to change them before our wedding.

Our wedding!

I pulled back with a gasp, panting against his mouth. Reluctant though I was, I pushed him away and checked the time on the DVR.