Second Grave on the Left by Darynda Jones

to their freedom, and you absconded with it. You were their general, their most powerful warrior, and you betrayed them. What do you think will happen to you if you’re sent back? Not to mention the fact that if you are sent back, your father—who just happens to be Satan, by the way—will have the key to escape from hell himself.”
    “If.”
    “And it’s an if I’m not willing to risk. Hell has to be torturous enough without being public enemy number one. And to risk Satan getting out?” I crossed my arms. “Tell me where you are.”
    “Dutch, you can’t just come after me. Even if you could vanquish them all—”
    “Why do you keep saying that?” I asked, exasperated. “I’m a bright light that lures the departed in so they can cross through me. I’m kind of like one of those bug zappers, if you think about it. And I’m fairly certain Vanquisher of Demons is not in my job description.”
    A soft grin slipped across his handsome face and somehow managed to melt my kneecaps. “If you had even an inkling of what you were capable of, the world would be a dangerous place indeed.”
    That wasn’t the first time I’d heard such a thing, and worded just as vaguely. “Okay, why don’t you tell me, then?” I asked, knowing he wouldn’t.
    “If I told you what you were capable of, you would have the advantage. That’s a risk I can’t take.”
    “What on planet Earth could I do to you?”
    With a growl he stood and pulled me to him. “God, the things you ask, Dutch.”
    He wrapped his long fingers around my neck and tilted my chin up with his thumb a split second before he captured my mouth with his own. The kiss skyrocketed from hesitant to demanding instantly. His tongue dived inside my mouth, and I reveled in the taste of him, the earthy smell of him. I leaned into his embrace, tilted my head to allow the kiss to deepen, then held on to his wide shoulders for dear life.
    One hand wound around the nape of my neck while the other held me to him as he walked me back, pressed me against the wall. Taking both my hands into one of his, he fastened them against the wall above my head as his other hand explored at will. He cupped Danger, brushed over her peak until it hardened beneath him and I couldn’t stop a soft moan from escaping my lips.
    He grinned, dipped his head, and pressed his hot mouth against my pulse. Molten lava swirled in my abdomen, causing sensual quakes to shudder through me. I fought for the strength to stop him. Seriously, this was ridiculous. My utter lack of control where Reyes was concerned bordered on deplorable. So what if he was the son of Satan, reportedly the most beautiful being ever to have walked the paths of heaven? So what if he was formed from the heat of a thousand stars? So what if he made my insides gooey?
    I had to get a grip. And it needed to be on something other than Reyes’s manly parts.
    “Wait,” I said when his tongue sent a shiver straight to my core. “I have to give you fair warning.”
    “Oh?” He leaned back and leveled a lazy, sensual gaze on me.
    “I’m not going to allow you to let your corporeal body die.”
    “And you’re going to stop me?” he asked, his voice skeptical.
    I pushed him away, picked up my bag, and headed out the door. Just before I closed it, I looked back at him and said, “I’m going to find you.”

Chapter Four
    IF IT HAS TIRES OR TESTICLES, IT’S GONNA GIVE YOU TROUBLE.
    —BUMPER STICKER
    I locked the door behind me, essentially leaving the son of Satan in my apartment. Alone. Annoyed. And quite possibly sexually frustrated. A niggling in the back of my mind had me hoping I didn’t make him angry. I would hate for him to catch my bachelorette pad on hellfire.
    But really, he was being ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. The whole thing reminded me of my elementary school days when my best friend said, “Boys are yucky and we should throw rocks at them.”
    I stomped across the parking lot, allowing the cool breeze to calm