Free Mistress of Redemption by Joey W. Hill Page A

W. Hill
    body as he watched her with eyes
    that were so blue the lagoon and the
    sky couldn’t match their intensity. His
    body was sleek lines of muscle,
    tough and hard where she was soft.
    Where she ached for hardness.
    When Nathan had shoved Fiona from
    her, she’d been glad he’d fallen to his
    knees and bowed his head. He was
    far too intuitive and it wouldn’t have
    taken much intuition to see the tremor
    in her hand, the pulse pounding high
    in her throat. She hadn’t seen his
    possessive reaction coming. It had
    been a long time since anything had
    surprised her.
    That brief brush of his firm lips
    against hers had been like the barest
    hint of a rich chocolate, taken away
    before it could be fully sampled. His
    body so close, the heat of that hard
    muscular body, the aroused cock
    close enough to brush her skin…
    Great Lucifer, the way he’d
    crouched, thighs taut and ready, eyes
    focused and dangerous, his lip curled
    back to snarl at the leopard.
    At that moment, she realized she’d
    assumed he was a coward, like so
    many others in his life had. There
    apparently was an important
    difference between being
    opportunistic and craven. The man
    had courage. Where there was
    courage, there could be integrity.
    She told herself that it was good
    she’d broken the kiss before things
    had gotten out of hand. Even though
    her body wasn’t so sure of that, even
    now.
    If it was just physical, she would
    welcome the images. Like a candy
    bar she could consume, enjoy and
    discard the wrapper. But those firm
    lips could smile. Those blue eyes
    could be angry, tender, puzzled,
    intrigued. Thousands of expressions
    and she wanted to see every one of
    them. Every pain he’d suffered
    bludgeoned her heart. Every crime
    he’d committed tore at her soul. If he
    genuinely smiled, teased her without
    malice, she knew she’d do anything
    to rescue him from himself.
    For a moment she hated the Being in
    front of her, though she knew she
    might as well hate herself, since all
    He was showing her was what was
    in her own heart. She bowed her
    forehead to the ground, found some
    reassurance in the position, almost a
    fetal crouch of self-comfort. “I don’t
    want it to be true, my Lord,” she
    whispered. “I don’t want a soul
    mate.”
    The fire crackled. His foot was
    close. When she pressed her cheek to
    the heated stone next to it, she studied
    the illusion of toenails, bone. If she
    closed her hand on the flesh, it would
    feel solid, real, even though it was
    just a form Lucifer assumed to give
    her a point of reference. Nathan was
    like that. Everything he appeared to
    be wasn’t real.
    It was her job to tear away an
    illusion that he’d adhered to himself
    like skin, rip it all away, leave the
    raw nerves exposed and let the
    screams of agony from his soul guide
    him back to the man he was supposed
    to be.
    “If I could have spared you the pain, I
    would have, child. You know that.”
    “I know that. You gave me the
    choice.”
    Lucifer had called her to Him much
    like this, almost a month ago. He’d
    told her Jonathan Powell would be
    entering their domain soon.
    40
    Mistress of Redemption
    Over five years ago, she’d assumed a
    corporeal form to spend time at The
    Zone, a fetish club on the mortal
    plane. Her purpose had been to
    monitor a murderess who would soon
    enter Lucifer’s domain. Hell’s
    version of administrative work.
    Nathan had been involved with the
    woman. That relationship had sent
    him to prison and lead to the fatal
    knife fight, so close to the end of his
    five-year sentence. The fight which
    had brought him to the illusion of a
    dusty ribbon of asphalt, waiting for
    his Mistress of Redemption to
    retrieve him.
    During the time she’d been doing the
    survey work on the S&M Killer, she
    couldn’t stop watching him, being
    absorbed by everything about him.
    She didn’t want to feel that way,
    couldn’t understand how she knew
    his real name was Nathan and why
    she was certain he