Read Online Demon Lover by Kathleen Creighton - Free Book Online Page A

for the second time in twenty–four hours began to undress before the blue–eyed demon.
    Stopping her with a sigh, he said, "Julie, unless you prefer to sleep in the raw, leave your shirt on."
    "I don’t…understand." Her fingers had begun to shake. The bed, just a mattress on a crude wood frame, looked very small, and the demon seemed to take up a very large portion of it.
    "No," he said flatly, "I don’t think you do." He crushed out his cigarette on the adobe wall beside the bed and pulled the sheet up to his waist. "I thought I’d made myself clear. I like my women willing. Forcing frightened virgins isn’t my idea of a good time."
    "I’m not a virgin!" Julie rasped.
Good God, why did I say that?
    He chuckled softly, once again without real amusement. What a strange, almost bitter man he seemed at times. "You might as well be. As I said, making love takes two equal players. Rape—or seduction, for that matter—is too much trouble for too little reward. Turn out the lantern when you come to bed. And relax—you’re perfectly safe. I won’t lay a hand on you."
    "Am I supposed to believe that?" Julie cried, her voice high and incredulous.
    Another dry chuckle shook his chest, and he lifted an eyebrow sardonically. "Of course not. I lie, remember?" And he calmly turned on his side, away from her.
    Her movements felt wooden and jerky as she turned off the lantern and took off her belt, jeans and sandals, then groped her way to the bed. It was a feeling she seemed to be having a lot lately.
    She lay stiff as a post, staring wide–eyed at the underside of the thatched roof. She concentrated on matching her breathing to his, as if doing so might be a kind of camouflage.
    "Julie, stop shivering so we can both go to sleep." His voice was a deep, husky drawl. "You’re shaking the whole bed."
    She muttered, "I’m sorry," and went right on shaking.
    He turned over and raised himself on one elbow. She could feel his presence looming over her in the dark. "Why are you still nervous?"
    "Why shouldn’t I be?"
    "I told you, you’re perfectly safe. Don’t you believe me?"
    Safe?
Would she ever be safe again? "No. I guess I don’t."
    A soft chuckle. "Why not? Do you think you’re so irresistible I won’t be able to control myself?" She was silent, and he settled back with a sigh. "Julie, I’m not an adolescent with overactive glands; and at the risk of bruising your ego, you are not irresistible. So unless you have a problem, we should both sleep like babies." He yawned noisily. "
Buenas noches, Guerita
."
    Julie lay very still, wondering if that odd little pain she was feeling could possibly come from a bruised ego.
    My God, he’s done it again. I’ve done it again! How does he manage to make me lose my head, damn it? I can’t afford it.
    She wasn’t sleepy. She was keyed up and on edge, and so conscious of the warm body next to her she hardly dared to breathe for fear she might touch him by mistake. The air around her seemed alive with tension. Where was it coming from? Certainly not from him. Already his breathing had taken on the deep, natural rhythm of sleep. Why had she ever doubted his self–control? She had certainly seen enough evidence of it already. So the tension was coming from her. What was she afraid of?
    Am I afraid of myself? Oh, Julie…
    She lay awake, fighting sleep now, afraid to fall asleep lest she gravitate toward that magnetic body in unconsciousness. She tried to think, to concentrate on doing her job.
    She forced herself to think about the conversation overheard outside the hut.
Gabriel. Someone named Gabriel is bringing a "shipment" to be delivered to Los Angeles in August. And it’s important that it be there in time for—
    In time for the Exposition. In August. In Los Angeles. They could only mean the Pan American Exposition.
    In the darkness, Julie shook her head, wide awake and steeped in the irony of it. Here she was supposed to be transferred to the Los Angeles station for the