Read Online Demon's Delight by MaryJanice Davidson - Free Book Online Page A

sidewalk, amplified by the exaggerated swing of her hips. She knew that the strut and the boots, along with the rest of her skimpy outfit, were terribly clichéd, but why should she care? After all, she was what she was. She saw no need to pretend otherwise.
    Winter was creeping in early in Dallas. There was a distinct nip in the October night air. The cooler temperature seemed to lessen the stench of unwashed bodies and vomit and urine that drifted from behind the shabby buildings.
    The unpleasant smell was further masked by the tantalizing scents of cooking food and burning wood. The food aromas came from the restaurants and clubs along the strip; the wood odor probably from a homeless person’s fire—which would be extinguished if the police who occasionally patrolled the area saw it.
    Both food and wood aromas stirred nostalgic memories. Home and hearth, dinner cooking, family, warmth, love. Vague, distant memories that refused to be completely vanquished.
    Rachel Stryker shook those thoughts away. Hunger gnawed at her, and it was time to get down to business. She continued her strut down Harry Hines, letting the darkness wrap her in anonymity, although she could clearly see every detail of the debris-and-hypodermic-littered street.
    Midway down the block, a man got out of an older, battered, maroon Toyota Camry. He looked around, attempting a nonchalance that told her he was after either drugs or sex—or both.
    She walked faster, her long strides eating up the sidewalk between them. He saw her and stopped short, his gaze skimming down her. He was middle-aged, balding, nondescript—like hundreds of other marks. He straightened and tried to smooth his shabby jacket as she reached him.
    â€œHey there,” she said, letting her allure drift around him. “You look like you could go for a little recreation.”
    He wet his lips, his gaze still roaming over her. “I don’t think I can afford you.”
    â€œOh, you can,” she said, drawing the net tight. “Because I’m worth it. I’m the best you’ll ever have.” She eyed him, recognizing his type—he either was paid his wages in cash under the table or cashed his paycheck as soon as he got it. “Fifty dollars will get you whatever you want, baby.”
    â€œSure,” he muttered, staring into her eyes, firmly in thrall. He fumbled in his pocket, pulled out a money clip and peeled off a fifty-dollar bill. She found it odd that poorer people tended to carry more money on them, in larger denominations, as if it made them feel richer.
    â€œCome on.” She took his arm, guided him into a nearby alley. It was easy enough to maneuver him, since she matched him in height, and was far stronger than he’d ever comprehend.
    He was dirty, his foul breath and body odor an unpleasant affront to her highly developed sense of smell, but again, what did it matter? She was just what he needed, and he…he was key to her existence.
    She slipped the money into her fanny pack. “Well, let’s get started then.” She stepped close and placed her hand on his chest, savoring the rapid beating of his heart. Is there anything more exhilarating, she thought, as she always did, than the blood—a life force essential to survival—thundering through a living, beating heart?
    â€œSo,” she breathed, lowering her face against his neck, “how do you want it?” She nipped the side of his neck, slipped into his mind. She wouldn’t begrudge him his fantasies, as long as he gave her what she needed. Ah, he was easy to read…
    She quickly unbuttoned his coat, then his shirt, jerking them open so that his bare chest was exposed to the cool air.
    â€œHey, you’re movin’ too fast,” he protested. “I want my money’s worth, lady.”
    â€œYou’ll get it. I promise.” She undid his pants, slipping her hand inside and wrapping her fingers around his