My Funny Demon Valentine (Hell Bent #1)

Chapter 5

5

Asmodeus Mozart

T hursday night at ten, Asmodeus climbed out the back of a cab—a laborious method of travel compared to flying, but he had to keep up human appearances now—at the club called Bootleg. The outside wasn’t much. A scuffed up black door with a faded sign was complemented by a neon blinking arrow indicating it was upstairs.

He was a little early, so he got busy leaning up against the wall and blending into the shadows. He lit up a cigarette to pass the time.

Demons were impervious to health problems but loved to indulge in human addictions like alcohol and drugs. Ash was a little too “boring” (as his brothers would say) to be a big partier, but he did enjoy smoking.

A minute later, Eva came around the corner at the end of the street, and he ate up the sight of her with hungry eyes. Even in black and white, she was so... vibrant. And that wasn’t just because she was attracted to him. It was because she was. Even if she’d looked at him like he was as sexy as toilet paper like every other woman did, he’d still have wanted her.

Her wild hair, her short, curvy body, and that ridiculously round ass that he wanted to bite so fucking bad... He had to have her. No question.

But first: music.

When she was close enough, he stepped out of the shadows, tossing his cigarette on the pavement and stamping it out with a boot. “Eva.”

She stopped in her tracks and stared at him without speaking. For a moment, he could have sworn a flash of straight-up fear crossed her face, but it passed quickly, and he had to wonder if he’d imagined it. “Hey, Ash— Wow.”

“What?”

“I forgot you were so— Never mind.”

He stepped closer, drawn like a magnet by the heated look she was giving him. Yeah, she definitely saw him all right. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

The air between them crackled with chemistry. Maybe they could skip the club altogether and get straight to the sex.

“You wanna go inside?”

“Yeah, I do.” And he did. Sex could come later. First, he could enjoy some good music.

They pulled open the door and climbed the creaky stairs. Inside was packed body to body, standing room only. The venue wasn’t big by any means, and the room was probably way past capacity, but places like this never followed the rules.

Bare lightbulbs dangled from wires over the bustling bar. A few tables lined the sides of the room, but most were empty because everyone preferred to be packed together on the dance floor at the heart of the action.

At the far end, the stage was illuminated by colored lights. A stand-up bass leaned in the corner beside an old upright piano that looked as beat to shit as the rest of the club. The lights reflected off the cymbals of the drum kit, and there was a stack of vintage guitar amps lining the back of the stage. The band was between sets, so only the din of a hundred voices and the thump of the house music filled the air.

“Want a drink?” Eva asked, almost yelling to be heard over the din. Thanks to the crowd, she was pressed right against him. He’d watched her walk up the stairs ahead of him and nearly died. Her ass truly was a masterpiece.

He nodded, so she grabbed his hand and led him through the crowd. At the bar, she chatted with the bartender, introducing him, but of course, the other woman’s eyes glazed over the minute she looked at him. Not that he cared. He only had eyes for Eva tonight.

She passed him a beer. “I can pay,” he offered.

But she shook her head. “I work here. Free drinks for me. There’s a table over by the stage. Let’s go.”

She grabbed his hand again and led him back through the crowd, stopping occasionally to chat with someone she knew. They had just snagged two seats around the tiny table when the band climbed back on the stage. One of them waved at Eva and she waved back.

“People know you,” Ash said in her ear, watching attentively as the musicians fiddled with their gear.

“I’m here a lot. When I’m not working, I’m on stage.”

“Are you going to play tonight? You didn’t bring your violin.”

“I might. But my violin’s for classical stuff and my DJ project. When I play jazz, I play...” She reached back to pull something out of the bag slung over her shoulder. “Ta-da.”

It was a flute. A very scratched and beat-up flute, not in any sort of protective case and evidently well used.

“You play the flute too?” Color him impressed.

“Yeah.” She shrugged. “Violin was always my serious instrument. Flute’s just on the side. But that makes it more fun sometimes, you know?”

“I want to see you play.”

“Then maybe I’ll go up later.” She smiled at him.

Her lips were lush and indescribably inviting, and his attention zeroed in on them—until he realized they were moving. She was telling him something, and he hadn’t heard a word of it.

He dragged his gaze up to her eyes. “What?”

“I said it’s cool how much you appreciate music even though you haven’t been around it much.”

“I’ve found ways to be over the years.” He shrugged. “It’s logical, since my hearing is the only sense that functions properly.”

“What do you mean?”

Shit. He really hadn’t meant to go into that. Bel had lectured him about what not to say around humans since he was so out of practice, specifically warning him not to go into his curse. So, of course, he’d gone and blurted it out immediately.

Eva was waiting for an answer, and he had no choice but to give her one. “I have a... condition.” He winced at the feeble lie. “I can’t see color. Or taste anything. Or feel much.”

Her mouth fell open. “Oh my god.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“You can’t see color? Like at all?”

He shook his head. “Only black and white.”

“And you can’t feel anything either?”

“I don’t mind that one. It’s handy for ignoring extreme pain.”

She looked horrified, and he guessed it was because most humans didn’t have cause to ignore extreme pain very often. “Can you smell?”

“No sense of smell either.”

Her eyes filled with sympathy. “I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine. Trust me, I’m used to it.” She still looked upset, and he felt the need to comfort her. “If I’m relaxed, I do feel touch, especially in more sensitive parts of my body.” Shit, he was really putting his foot in his mouth here. “But that’s why I like music, I guess. Because my hearing is normal.”

“But how do you—”

Thankfully, at that moment, the band started up, effectively drowning out Eva’s question. They had no choice but to sit back and enjoy the music. And enjoy it he did.

Just as Eva had said, the musicians were fantastic. The lineup played a few tunes, jamming off famous standards or improvised chords, and then some players would swap and a new lineup would form, keeping the energy fresh. They watched together for over an hour, chatting between sets about the music and nothing in particular. Just easy, harmless fun.

Eva seemed oddly curious about him, making him glad he’d had that talk with Bel about what not to say. He wondered if all humans were this inquisitive when they first met—her questions felt like a bloody interrogation at times—but he couldn’t say either way. Since being cursed around three thousand years ago, his experience with humans in a social capacity was limited at best, and his experiences with human women even less.

“Where’d you grow up?” Eva asked him.

“Uh, here and there. I traveled a lot.”

Her eyes narrowed like she was displeased with his evasiveness, and she switched topics with dizzying abruptness. “What were your parents like?”

He winced. “I never knew them.” Or rather, never had them. Demons were created from hellfire by the will of a female demon. Only females could make new demons, but that didn’t mean they felt any sort of maternal bond to their creations. Far from it.

“You never knew your parents?” Eva looked sad, which was weird. Why would she care about his parents? “Why not?”

“I, um—” Damn it, Bel hadn’t prepared him for what to do if she turned out to have a doctorate in interrogation tactics. “I was raised by my brother.” That, at least, was true.

He’d been formed at roughly a human toddler’s development and tossed into a horrified Belial’s lap. Bel had been an evil motherfucker way back then, and Asmodeus had been just as vile, but somehow, they’d managed to bond in their own disturbed way.

Eva opened her mouth to drill him with further questions, but thankfully, someone waved to her from the stage at that moment.

“I think I’m going up for the next set,” Eva said, waving back. “I guess you don’t play anything, or I’d tell you to join. I won’t be long. Or, if you’d rather I stay—”

“I want to see you play.”

“Okay.” She smiled. “You should learn an instrument! I bet you’d love it.”

“I play the piano,” he reluctantly admitted.

Her mouth dropped open. Just seeing it in that little O shape gave him wicked thoughts. “Why didn’t you say so?”

Music was a human art. A demon could mimic it, sure—part of their skillset was being able to learn anything they wanted quickly—but it wasn’t the same. The mortality of humans combined with their potential for good or evil came through in their creative expression.

Demons were just... flat. A demon could be a master pianist, but he would never have the soul of a human player.

Because a demon had no soul. That was what it came down to.

But a demon could still appreciate the human arts, and Ash did. He shrugged at Eva. “Go play your flute for me. I’ll be here.”

She looked like she wanted to say more, but she turned away and melted into the crowd instead. He watched her climb up on stage, greeting the other musicians, and then the next tune began.

Of course, she stole the show. Her charisma drew gazes, and when she took a solo, a hush fell over the entire club. She was incredible, her fingers delicate on that crummy old flute as the ethereal sounds flew up and down complex scales.

She played a few jams and then returned, and Ash struggled in vain to find the words to commend her performance. She brushed him off and kept peppering him with questions about when he’d learned to play piano until he was forced to explain.

He gave her a glossed-over, “human-safe” version of events. “I lived in Cuba for a few years and made friends with a piano player. I expressed an interest, so he taught me how to play.”

The truth was, about fifty years ago, he’d done a solo escape from Hell and hid out in Cuba where he’d met his teacher, pulling the guy out of a fight outside a bar in Havana.

It sounded noble, but it wasn’t. He’d killed all four of the men beating on Miguel without a backward glance, and he’d only saved Miguel in the first place because the guys kicking his ass had taunted him into it, and his pride demanded he show them who their daddy was. The friendship and piano lessons had come afterward, purely by chance.

Unfortunately, escaping Hell and killing humans was against the rules, and Ash had been caught a few years later. His first and only human friend was killed in the crossfire.

His emotions about that still confused him. Demons didn’t have feelings like humans—they were supposed to be evil and soulless, after all—yet he felt a heaviness in his chest when he thought about Miguel’s death, and he had since concluded it must be some form of grief. That he was even capable of that emotion said things about him that weren’t good.

“That’s amazing!” Eva said. “I’ve always wanted to study Cuban music. Where’s your friend now? Do you still keep in touch?”

“No.”

“But why not? You must have been close if he taught you how to play.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” He winced. Demons were not close with people.

“So why don’t you keep in touch?”

Damn, she was persistent. The woman had a knack for finding all the weak points in his story.

“He was killed,” he finally said.

Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I keep asking you the worst questions, bringing up stuff that must be hard to talk about.”

“It’s fine. I don’t mind talking with you.” And he didn’t. Also weird.

Thankfully she didn’t ask for more details, instead choosing another topic to drill him on. After another hour or so of drinks and music, their between-set conversation mellowed out from the interrogation into the easy camaraderie he’d felt when they first met.

He found her funny and relatable, and the fact that she was a little bundle of walking sex appeal didn’t hurt his enjoyment of her company at all. She talked to him about songwriting, her horny best friend, and her hippie parents, and he actually liked listening to what she said.

The little minx plied him with drinks and conversation until he finally let his guard slip and allowed her to talk him into going on stage. By then, it was one in the morning, and the crowd had thinned substantially. Those remaining were mostly lovers with their heads together, the odd lonely stray collapsed at the bar, and a few groups of over-exuberant partiers staggering about and laughing uproariously at inappropriate moments.

They climbed on the stage together, Ash kicking himself for agreeing to this. He hadn’t touched a piano in decades and half wondered if he’d forgotten how to play. That pain in his chest that he thought must be grief was associated with Miguel and, therefore, playing music.

He sat behind the old upright. There were chips in the carved wood and bottle-rim stains all over the top, and a few keys in the lower octaves were missing altogether.

Holding her flute to her lips, Eva looked at him, smiling encouragingly. The silence in the bar suddenly seemed deafening. He took a breath and held his hands over the keys. They trembled slightly, which was embarrassing, so he curled them into fists tight enough that his knuckles cracked. Better.

Stretching them back out over the keys, he tried to think of something to play. He couldn’t. Eva was still looking at him. Damn it, this was awkward.

He stopped thinking and slammed his hands down. With distant, detached amazement, he watched himself launch into a wildly improvised montuno with ridiculous chord changes. Somehow, it worked. The Latin-style progression was dissonant as hell, but it worked.

Immediately, he worried he’d gone too fancy and that Eva wouldn’t be able to follow by ear, but of course that wasn’t the case. She soloed over his chords effortlessly, finding a recurring theme that he quickly picked up on and echoed back to her. He dropped his left hand down an octave to cover the bass while she embellished on that theme, flying up and down the rapidly changing scales with melodic grace.

As their duo picked up energy, he felt a strange lightness in his chest. Like he was flying. Like the rest of the world had melted away. He heard himself laughing—something he hadn’t done in years. He was actually fucking laughing. It was exhilarating and addicting, more so than any human drug he’d ever before tried.

Somehow, they finished together in perfect unison. They could have practiced for a month and not nailed a better ending. He stared at Eva and she stared back at him, lowering her flute in slow motion. Distantly, he heard people clapping, but he was only aware of one thing at that moment.

He climbed off the piano bench and staggered off the stage like he was wasted, when in truth, he was mostly just high on whatever thrilling emotion the music had awakened within him. Eva was grinning and staggering like she felt the same way.

The second they stepped off the stage, they were fused at the lips.

He pushed her up against the wall and deepened the kiss. Her arms snaked around his neck, pulling him closer, her flute still clutched in one hand. Their lips parted, tongues winding together. It felt fucking amazing. He didn’t try to hide what was going on down below, pushing his hips against hers so she knew exactly what was on his mind.

“Eva, whoa, girl!” someone cheered from behind them.

Ash lifted his head. “We’re still in the bar.”

Suddenly, he noticed the contrasts of light and dark were exaggerated, different. Something was tingling in his nostrils, making his perception more vivid. Something was way off, and a distant alarm bell started ringing in his head, but he was way too turned on at the moment to care about anything but Eva. His attention lasered in on her, and he was aware of nothing else.

Her chest was rising and falling rapidly, her silvery-gray eyes heavy-lidded. “Oh, yeah.”

“I want you.”

“Damn,” she breathed, eyes closing briefly. “Let’s get out of here.”

She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the exit, snagging her coat and bag off the chair on her way past. As they crossed the bar, several female gazes landed on him. One girl’s mouth dropped open, another whistled, and another who’d been flirting with another man sat up and stared.

Ash didn’t even notice—he was too focused on getting Eva somewhere he could get her naked as soon as possible.

Out on the street, he kissed her again, taking a moment to feel her up. “Where do you live?”

“Two blocks away. We can walk. Let’s go!” She grabbed his hand again and practically ran down the street. He was more than happy to follow, watching that perfect, round ass move with her every step. He was so going to bite her there.