My heart tugged at me. It demanded I get closer to both of them. I was too far away. A space low in my stomach heated and throbbed. My entire body rebelled against my mind, which wanted to know what the hell was going on. Was this what humanity was like? No wonder Holly was crazy.

  My feet strode toward Parker and the man with the sweet soul that I’d met last night. Even in the crisp light of morning, I could see the bright edges of his soul highlighting his skin. His soul was a light orange color. I noticed Parker had a flicker of the same color near his heart.

  Parker gestured toward me and clenched his fist before he shoved his hand into his pocket. “Barrister, meet Ruby. I think … well, I can’t be sure without Migs but—I think she’s …” His face contorted like he was having trouble saying the words. “I think she’s got what you’ve been looking for,” he finished.

  Barrister didn’t say anything. He just stared at me, eyes drinking me in as I took in the sight of him. He was over six feet tall and I knew he had abs as hard as boulders underneath his shirt. I’d seen him look sweet, concerned, what I think might have been embarrassed, but now he just stared in a way I couldn’t even begin to interpret. It was intense.

  “What are you thinking?” I whispered. For some reason, I felt nervous about his answer. Was he judging me? Is that what his look meant? Was he rejecting me? A nervous shudder ran through me and I felt like I should jump on top of him and attack him with kisses so that he couldn’t get the words ‘go away’ out. I resisted, but mostly because I was pretty sure if I tried to leap on him, I’d face plant into the door instead.

  “Is this real?” Barrister finally asked. “Or is this some kind of joke?” He turned to Parker. “I swear dude, if you’ve pulled something on her, I will rip you a new one.”

  Parker shook his head. “No joke. Do you feel it? The connection?”

  Bar nodded.

  I took a step forward. “What is it? This connection?”

  Parker’s hand reached out and he gently tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. Barrister groaned at that and moved forward to run a finger over my other forearm. “You don’t have to let him—us—touch you.”

  My body felt like it might combust. I felt swollen and full of a need for—damn fucking English!—I didn’t even know what. But I pressed the back of Barrister’s hand into me so that all of his fingers connected with my skin. His touch warmed me like sunshine.

  “I think—you might be soulmates,” Parker whispered, pushing up against me from the side.

  Bar’s hand closed around my arm and he pulled me into him until my breasts pressed against his. “How’s that possible?” he whispered. “You’re an angel, right?”

  My tongue failed me. I could only nod my head, awash in sensations. Holy fuck! Why didn’t every angel snag a bit of soul? This feeling, this light-heading feeling, was better than the rush I felt when I dove through the clouds and waited as long as I could to spread my wings. It was better than the soft fluffiness of clouds. It was better than anything—as Parker and Barrister pressed against me, I felt connected to others in a way I’d never known was possible.

  Angels always went on and on about humans and their torrid love affairs, as if love was something scandalous and awful. But how—why? This was amazing. This feeling was indescribable.

  Barrister looked over at Parker. “How?” he asked again, reminding us of his question.

  “Her friend said something about a soul. Ruby has a little piece of soul in her. I think it belongs to Migs—” Parker said softly.

  “What the fuck, you two?” A new voice demanded from inside the building. “Where’s my café?”

  Parker wrapped an arm around me and pulled me inside the shop. Bar followed.

  “Shut the door,” Parker said. “And put the ‘Closed’ sign out.”

  “What?” the man inside asked.

  My eyes adjusted to the dim interior light and a swoon-worthy guy walked toward me. He had blue eyes and brown hair swept back so his bangs somehow defied gravity. Stubble lined his upper lip and his jaw, giving his otherwise perfect features a gruff look. He was perfect. Except for the fact that he wore the one thing that Maddie had warned me all untrustworthy men wore. Plaid.

  I stumbled back a step or two in horror, catching my foot on the rug.

  Parker caught me before I could fall backward and crack open my skull.

  He leaned down and said, “It’s okay, Ruby. This is my roommate, Migs. I think you have a bit of his soul.”

  “What?” I pulled out of Parker’s arms and ran to the other side of the room. “No! No!” I clutched at my hair, my breasts, my face in agony.

  “What’s she doing?” Migs asked, and even the sound of his voice was like a mooring, pulling me closer, reeling me in. My body struggled against my mind and I felt like trashing their place—just like Holly had trashed mine. Fuck this!

  “I think she’s freaking out about having your soul,” Parker said.

  “She’s freaking out?” Barrister chipped in. “What about fucking me? I’m freaking out! Are you saying Migs and I are soulmates?”

  “Yup,” Parker responded.

  “I’m not fucking soulmates with a fucking dude!” Barrister yelled.

  The guys started bickering in low tones, but I didn’t listen. I searched for an escape or a weapon, reverting to warrior angel mode. This room was sadly lacking in either. There were just little green squares and colored wires. It was actually a giant mess. I had to make do with a mini screwdriver, which I turned and brandished. “You let me go or I’ll stab you all.”

  Barrister and the new guy Migs looked shocked—their eyes wide.

  Parker just laughed. “You’re an angel. You can’t stab humans. You definitely can’t stab your soulmate. And I’ve got a bit of Bar’s soul, so you can’t stab me either—we are technically soulmates, too. Good luck stabbing Migs. Since you share a soul with him, I don’t think your hand will even let you get close.”

  I jabbed the screwdriver in his direction. “Don’t mock me. Amethyst was probably right. You probably are a demon.” I circled around them, back toward the entrance.

  “I didn’t say she wasn’t.”

  “What?” My heart fell. She wasn’t cursed? He was a fucking demon? I nearly dropped the screwdriver, which made me bend forward as I fumbled to get it—which meant I was too top heavy with the damn boobs—and I went plunging face first toward the floor. This time, Parker wasn’t close enough to save me. I hit the cement floor cheek first, which made my vision blur.

  The man named Migs was closest and he hurried forward. He helped me sit up, and once my eyes cleared, I could feel two things clearly: a painful throbbing in my cheek and a strange dizzy sensation that hurtled through me as I looked at Migs. I felt completion, comfort, companionship—all kinds of words I’d come across when I’d studied human emotional needs. I felt whole for the first time in my existence.

  I glanced down at his shirt. How could this be? How could I feel good when he touched me? “But—but, only assholes wear plaid.”

  Bar punched the air behind me. “Fuck yes! That’s right, soulmate. Been telling the fucker that for years.”

  Migs just stared at me in concern. “Why did you call Parker a demon?” he asked.

  My eyes traveled over to Parker and Migs, who were suddenly avoiding eye contact.

  Ah shit. I’d just outed the paranormal world to a human.

  Chapter 6

  Migs

  I sat back on my ass on the concrete floor, next to the hot-as-sin chick that had stumbled into our store. My mind was reeling. I blinked and tried to make sense of what was going on. The brunette in front of me—she was the one. I just knew it. Some stupid, primal ape-brain part of me knew she was it. I was pretty pissed at my brain right now because it had picked a woman who was clearly insane. She hated plaid, believed in demons, and had threatened me with a deadly weapon. I mean, the screwdriver was three inches long, but through the eye at the right angle and velocity? It’d kill me in two seconds flat.

  Ruby adjusted her skirt, and my eyes were drawn to her pale thighs.

  I snapped my gaze away; I didn’t need the lust part of my brain lighting up like a carnival ride. I focused on Bar and Parker instead, who were both staring at me with worried expressions. Parker had some kind of shit on his forehead, so I lifted my hand and pointed, “You got something—” I gestured, showing him that he’d gotten grease or something on his forehead.

  He didn’t wipe the marks away. Instead, he bent down and grabbed my hand, pulling me to my feet. “We need to talk.”

  I realized the marks on his forehead weren’t just marks, they were horns.

  “Dude, did Bar get you into cosplay now, too?” I asked, gesturing at Parker’s mini horns. They looked a little like Daredevil’s horns, small and pointed. “Or did you lose a bet?” I felt put out for a second that they were leaving me out of bets.

  But Parker shook his head.

  I frowned. Not cosplay and not a bet. A joke? I glared at Parker. Bar wouldn’t pull shit on me. But I hadn’t known Parker as long, just since we’d graduated college three years ago. Was this some kind of prank?

  I asked, “Are you trying to get back at me for the pickup line thing? Chingón, Bar totally kicked your ass.”

  “Excuse me, what’s a chinkun? Is that like a chicken?” Ruby asked. “I forgot to bring my dictionary.”

  “He’s saying nasty things in Spanish,” Bar corrected.

  “Oh, a romance language! Those make so much more sense than English!”

  I stopped short. I looked at her again, my eyes tracing the soft curves of her body and the sweep of her jaw. I got the urge to nibble her neck and whisper all kinds of naughty things in Spanish to her. “You don’t like English?” I asked, studying her big grey eyes. I had to swallow hard when she shook her head.

  “It’s the worst! It’s chaos! There are more words without rules than with them!”

  “Yes!” I found myself stepping toward her. “I mean, I’ve been here eight years, but still. Yes!”

  “And then, English doesn’t stop at words that don’t make sense. I have this teenage employee and she uses all these words wrong! When she says “chill” she doesn’t mean cold, she means to spend time with someone. What? She just took a word and completely erased the original definition! How is anyone supposed to learn this language when people do things like that!” She stomped a foot.

  “Yes!” I took another step toward her. Her annoyance at stupid English made my throat dry and my dick hard. No one else understood here. They all grew up in this disorganized chaotic mess of words. But she was the literal embodiment of my own frustration. “I know! How about when people just randomly cut off a word? Like fam. I cannot stand when people say that word. It’s family. Don’t be lazy. Your tongue can handle three syllables.”

  She took another step toward me, “Yes! Yes! I agree!”

  “Why do we call it rush hour when the cars hardly move?” I asked.

  “Why is it a toothbrush when you use it on more than one tooth?” Ruby’s breath grew sultry.

  Her thighs brushed against mine and her eyes burned with a passion I hadn’t seen in a woman in years. I got lost in her eyes as, somehow, my hands made their way to her hips.

  I murmured, “The word hit is completely overused. Hit on, hit the gas, hit it and quit it. Never the same meaning.” My fingers flexed, digging into her soft curves.

  She sucked in a deep breath, those big eyes of hers dilating as she stared up at me and asked, “Why are they called tennis shoes when you don’t use them … for tennis?”

  I felt her nipples pebbling against my stomach. Ruby smiled up at me and it took every ounce of self-restraint I had not to bend forward and ravage her lush mouth.

  But then she said, “I’ve been on Earth a year and still—every day—I just feel so lost!”

  “On Earth?” I took a step back. Shit. Right. She was delusional. A psychopath off her meds. I had to breathe deeply to calm my heart, which was screaming all sorts of nonsense at my head. Nonsense like, she’s telling the truth, I can tell. Parker had probably paid her to say all that shit. My dick twitched in disagreement.

  “I guess since I already told you about supes, it’d be okay if I showed you my wings.” She waved a hand and a set of wings appeared on her back. Real fucking wings. With feathers and all.

  I narrowed my eyes. I couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. Her face looked serious, but was she being sarcastic? She had to be. This was nuts. But where did those wings come from? My lungs closed a bit as I backed up toward an aisle full of computer repair parts. Space. I needed space.

  Bar called out, “It’s not a joke, Migs. She’s telling the truth. She’s an angel. Ruby, can you fly?”

  Her wings started to flutter, and I blinked in disbelief as her feet rose off the floor.

  Impossible. That’s fucking impossible. No. No way.

  My grandmother Maria’s voice sounded in my head, whispering in Spanish. She’d hated my skeptical nature, always lighting candles and praying for me when I was younger. “One day, mijo, you’ll find your way back. I saw it in a dream.” And now a woman was flying in midair in front of me. A woman who claimed she was an angel.

  I shook my head, hand flying to my forehead to check for fever. My elbow knocked some graphics cards over, causing a domino effect down the shelf. But I didn’t turn to look at them … because suddenly, Ruby started to glow. Her entire body was surrounded by a warm, golden light—the exact kind of light mi abuela Maria had said she’d experienced during her stroke. Dios mio! Shit!

  Goosebumps rose up on my arms, and a cold fear trickled down my spine like ice. Was I about to be smited? Smote? Smitten? Fucking English!

  A halo appeared over Ruby’s head.

  It felt like an out-of-body experience. I was witnessing the impossible. Or—what my abuela would have called—the possible, just not probable.

  The glow faded as Ruby touched down near me. “So … hi,” she waved shyly. “I’m Ruby and I’m an angel.”

  I doubted she knew she sounded just like an advertisement for a twelve-step program. But she did. My mouth quirked up a bit. Whatever vice Ruby was selling, I wanted it. She could have said she was a meth-head and I might not have cared. Because something in me was drawn to her like we were two halves of an orange. That inner voice whispered the Spanish version of that saying, “Sos mi media naranja.” It was the phrase my grandfather used to say to my grandmother every morning when she handed him his café.

  Ruby reached for my hand and when she touched me the truth of her words flipped a switch, like turning on a light bulb. If anyone else had said it—shit, Parker had tried to tell me two or three times he was a demon—I wouldn’t have believed it. But I felt connected to her, knew I could trust her. And I couldn’t explain why. Was it the soul thing? It had to be.

  Souls were real.

  Fuck.

  I turned to Bar, even as I shifted Ruby’s hand in mine so I could grip hers more tightly, squeezing her small fingers underneath mine. “What did you say about soulmates?”

  Bar rolled his eyes. “I think Parker’s jacked that bit up. We—” he gestured between us, “are not soulmates. Because that’s bullshit! Unfair crap! But souls are real. That deal you made with the witch? Real. Luckily, she’s Ruby’s friend and gave your bit of soul to Ruby and not some shit monster.”

  I felt like an idiot, just like when I first moved to the U.S. and realized I knew nothing about this country, that everything I’d seen on television was a lie. Here I was again. On the precipice of a whole new world. I knew fuck-all about angels and demons and whatever else was out there. I hadn’t thought souls were real. But glancing at Ruby, I knew they were.

  I cleared my throat uncertainly. “Are shit monsters real?”

  Bar laughed. “Who the fuck knows?”

  Parker raised a hand. “Not only are they real, but you really don’t want to get involved with them. It’s messy.”

  “Was that a joke?” Bar wrinkled his nose.

  Parker shook his head. “No. They literally trail shit everywhere. It’s disgusting and unsanitary.”

  I shook my head. “This … is just hard to believe.” I pulled Ruby closer and stroked the tip of her wing. The feathers were real. And so soft. Touching her made me feel more grounded, more secure, as I looked back over at Bar. “You. Fuckhead. You’re supposed to be my best friend and you didn’t tell me all this?”

  Bar shook his head. “Dude, you’re so … pragmatic. I tried to toss it out there a few times—”

  I waved him off and turned to Parker. “Did you know we were soulmates this whole time?”

  Bar interjected, “We’re not soulmates!”

  I ignored him, slightly irritated by his rejection.

  Parker shrugged, leaning against the wall next to the door. “Why do you think I kept trying to get a threesome going?”

  Ruby blinked and tugged on my hand. “What’s a threesome?” she asked.

  Just hearing that word come out of her mouth in that innocent tone—shit. Bar and Parker stepped forward, and I knew she’d had the same effect on them. Lust tinted the edges of my vision red and my dick tented in my pants. I had to take a tiny step away from her to remain a gentleman. But I didn’t let her hand go.

  “Oh, beautiful, it’s so much easier to show you a threesome than explain,” Parker was crowding me two seconds later, his hand caressing my Ruby’s face.

  I pushed him back. “Dude. Respect.”

  He pointed at his chest. “Demon. Temptation.”

  Bar shoved him aside and lifted Ruby’s free hand to his lips. He placed a gentle kiss there. “Ruby, don’t listen to these fools. As far as I’m concerned, you’re a miracle—”

  Ruby yanked her hands away from me and Bar. Her hands flew to her cheeks. “Miracles! Shit! Miracles! My mentor’s about to get here—”

 

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