Demons Don't Always Tell The Truth (Kate Storm Series Book 3) Read Online Free Page A

and my TV.
    The itty-bitty bathroom stands between my office and my bedroom on the left side of the hall. It contains the basics - shower/tub, toilet and sink, plus one cabinet crammed full of hair products. Which have a fifty-fifty chance of working.
    My curls are an entity all on their own.
    My bedroom is large enough to hold a double bed, a small chair, a dresser and another bookshelf. As it doesn't hold those items very well, I have my doubts as to whether the demon will fit.
    Although as Al continuously points out - he fits perfectly.
    The kitchen connects to the living room on the right side of the hall. I followed Al into the kitchen and to the phone with the blinking light.
    I've been debating whether to give up my landline. I've added Drake's, Désirée's and Phil's numbers to my cell phone address book recently. Along with my aunt's number, Ash's, Morgan's and the Italian Restaurant's, I'm almost up to ten.
    In consideration, my landline seems a bit silly.
    However, I have always been a rather optimistic witch.
    I hit the play button.
    And listened to three hang ups.
    "No one left a message?"
    Al sat on his minuscule haunches next to his water bowl. "No. A few times the person hung up before the answering machine could pick up."
    Probably a desperate telemarketer.
    The doorbell rang.
    My heart picked up.
    It was too late for friends to be stopping by and Morgan had already flown home. Only one demon would be at my door at this time of night.
    I smoothed down as many curls as I could, ignored the majority that sprang back in opposing directions, pulled my shoulders back and sucked in my stomach.
    All the air rushed back out and my stomach pushed against my jeans again the moment I opened the door. I didn't sigh. These days, whenever I saw Ash, I was filled with equal parts frustration and pulsing desire. My exhalations either began or ended with a moan.
    I couldn't tell which. And it didn't matter.
    This demon had me both coming and going.
    He leaned with his bare, left arm braced against my doorframe. The pose emphasized his tattoos, scars and muscles. I paused to admire all three.
    Ash has muscles on his muscles. They flex and shift with his slightest move. He could sleep and I wouldn't get tired of the view.
    The tattoo covering his left arm and shoulder is Celtic in appearance. It marks the sign of his sin. Each Demon Lord has their own sin. Ash hasn't told me his. Yet.
    The tattoo is comprised of mostly black lines, both wide and thin, with reddish flames intertwined. It ends near his neck where the scars take off. The scars continue up his neck and alongside his cheek and around his left eye.
    Some of these scars are thick and raised.
    A few weeks ago Ash and I went through a period where we had to work through some relationship issues. As he is a hot-headed demon and I'm a defensive witch that included Ash setting me on fire.
    I now put on Flame Away each morning. Shower, lotion, Flame Away, clothes.
    Ash hasn't quite gotten over the fact he nearly burned me to death. He's been torn between keeping me safe and thinking I would be better off without him. As a result, he has been practically shoving his physical scars in my face. And limiting his make out moves.
    Hence both my desire and my frustration. And my stress eating.
    I've been bullied and taunted my whole life for what I am. I could never do the same to Ash. Not for being what he is.
    Demons heat up with the stronger emotions. It's something I've learned to love and live with.
    I'm a mortal witch who catches on fire without spells or Flame Away. It's something Ash is still trying to come to terms with.
    The rest of Ash was pretty much par for his course. Heavy biker boots, tight jeans, leather vest and head wrap. The only things that varied with his wardrobe were the color of his vests and the style of head wrap.
    Ash always wore his vests without a shirt and a simple lace holding the vest together, leaving large sections of his upper torso exposed. I