How to Love a Blue Demon Read Online Free PDF Page B

hand over his on her belly.
    He stood solidly behind her, his chin resting on the top of her head even as his eyes roamed continuously looking for anything – including the boogie man, he’d once told Cass – that might pop out and harm their friend. His thick arms were loose around her, both large hands splayed protectively over her belly. She was four months pregnant, and they were engaged, planning to go down to city hall before the baby came. Priti refused to get married in church until she got her body back.
    “Of course she does,” he rumbled.
    But Priti wasn’t referring to the obvious physical beauty but to the combination of it with the potent talent that Cass unleashed at will. Her voice, a strong vibrato rich alto when she wasn’t tickling upper and lower registers, was like a weapon.
    They’d both seen people cry, gasp and stare enthralled, straining for every word that fell from her red lips. She wove stories with music notes, delivered punch lines with guitar riffs, her long fingers flew over the strings as though she and the instrument were one being with one purpose, to make you feel. Good, elated, horny, sad, rapturous, her range was limitless, Priti believed. So did anyone who had the opportunity to watch her perform.
    Priti’s phone buzzed against her back pocket, and Boyd shivered at the sensation. She grinned and pulled it free, walking out of ear shot to take the call.
    “This Priti,” she said, and listened. “What? Who is this?” she listened some more, and Boyd, who’d been keeping one eye on her even as he continued to watch Cass on stage raised his eye brows and mouthed the word, what?
    “It’s Lee,” she mouthed back, silently thanking God this was Cass’ last song. “He’s been in an accident.”
    “Sire! Sire!” Rierdane appeared in Eyoen’s bathing chamber visibly shaken and out of breath from a mad sprint/shimmer across almost the entire length of the palace. “It’s time.”
    “Gods,” Eyoen breathed, surging to his feet, streams of warm water streaming from his long, muscular body. His host was at this moment dying. He wasn’t ready. He’d known it could happen at any time, had thought himself prepared, but he wasn’t. Something – could it be fear? – had his heart racing, but he stood bravely as his faithful servant came forward and quickly dried him.
    Suddenly he laughed. “How appropriate, Rierdane. I go into this new body as naked as I came into my own.” Then he was gone, and Rierdane was left standing on wet marble tiles with only a bath sheet for company.
    The servant handed the towel to another servant. “Gods protect us,” he said, and returned to the King’s side to talk strategy.
     
    *****
     
    Eyoen had been told what to expect, but it didn’t compare to reality. Not at all. It was faster and – though he’d have his claws pulled out before admitting it – it was more frightening, as he shuttled like a ghostly freight train through time and space and slammed into a painful and restrictive space.
    Gods, he hurt. Every thing ached terribly, especially his head at the back of the neck. He tried to stretch, to relieve some of the tension he felt, but couldn’t seem to make his arms move. Nor could he open his eyes. His heart rate accelerated as panic threatened to overwhelm him, then, as a voice whispered somewhere in his mind, he calmed.
    “Sire,” said Rierdane. “How fare you?”
    I feel awful, he thought, growling, or at least he would have if he could. Is this normal?
    “The body you’ve taken has been in an acciden t. The host did not survive, so the wounds were grave, and it will take some time for you to heal yourself.”
    I need no time, he said and would have buzzed himself and his new, battered body back to health, but Rierdane hissed in alarm, and he stilled.
    “You cannot, sire ! You are in a human hospital, and were you to suddenly spring up from the bed fully healed there would be too much attention. You must have