“You’re not walking.”
“Why not?”
“I said so. That’s why not.”
“I am disappointed you put your clothes back on.” I thought being separated from his perfect chest justified my pout. “I feel a lot better now. My head doesn’t hurt.”
“That is only because He intervened when you saw my face.” The Devil’s expression soured. “I killed you.”
I checked out my hands, which seemed normal to me. To make certain, I plucked at the fleshy bit between my thumb and finger. As expected, it hurt when I pinched myself. Then, to make sure I was truly all right, I shifted enough to cover my skin in fur. To my delight, my coat grew in at its plushest. “I don’t feel dead. Am I a zombie, then?”
“You are not an undead.”
“But if I’m dead, how else am I talking? I’d say walking, but I seem to have lost the general use of my legs for the moment.” The cat in me enjoyed being carried around, especially as I could rest my head against the Devil’s chest whenever I wanted, which I did without any shame in my enjoyment of his warmth. I remained comfortable, but exhaustion clobbered me, and I yawned. “You can just dump me on the nearest soft surface. I’ll sleep it off.”
“The nearest soft surface is my bed, where you will rest. I will handle the matter of your brother while keeping a close and careful eye on you.”
I could work with that, especially if he was in it, keeping me nice and toasty. To implement my plan to disrupt his plans, I grabbed hold of his suit jacket along with a handful of his shirt. “I’ve been told you’re spoiled, so I am expecting a very comfortable bed.” I yawned again and muttered a few curses over how I’d gone from wide awake to barely coherent. “Do they serve iced coffee in hell?”
“If coffee is what you want, coffee is what you shall have.”
“Iced, and like the way they make it down the street from my house.” I wouldn’t tell him it was a rare treat. He might take over the entire shop, as he seemed like the kind to indulge in excess. “But don’t kidnap any baristas or anything like that. If you give them a five dollar bill and ask for an iced coffee, they’ll give you my iced coffee. They’re usually below five dollars. Money is useful for things like that. If you give the right person money, they make problems go away, like my problem of not having iced coffee. My spots are to you like iced coffee is to me, I think.”
“You underestimate my enjoyment of your spots,” he growled.
“You underestimate my enjoyment of iced coffee.”
“We shall see about that.”
As so often happened in my life, I lost. That I lost my hold on the Devil’s suit, thus preventing him from leaving me alone, made my defeat all the worse. Somewhere along the way, I’d lost my clothes, too.
Waking up naked and alone in the Devil’s bed needed to be classified as cruel and unusual punishment. I debated voicing my complaint as a feline yowl or getting out of bed, shapeshifting to my fully furred self, and making my displeasure known with my claws.
I needed to inform the Devil I had no problems with the idea of being naked and not alone in his bed, but he needed to take off his shirt for my enjoyment. I grumbled over my severe case of raging hormones, sat up, and searched the room for something to wear. While he had several dressers, if I wanted to wear something from them, I’d have to steal something of his.
I bet I’d swim in one of his dress shirts, and who needed pants when his shirt probably came down halfway to my knees? It would classify as gloriously indecent. If I found one of his ties, I would count as mostly dressed.
Rolling out of bed hurt, and while I spotted a bathrobe tossed onto one of the nearby armchairs, I ignored it in favor of the Devil’s dressers, rummaging through his eclectic collection of apparel in search of a dress shirt. The first dresser included socks, underwear in a bewildering assortment of styles, colors, and fabrics, and his ties, which numbered in the hundreds. I claimed a silky scarlet one, which would contrast nicely with my fur, spots, and the white shirt I’d pilfer once I found them. On the top, I spotted a silver cross necklace, a choker accented with dark purple stones.
The thought of the Devil wearing the choker cracked me up, and when I found no evidence of ownership, I fastened it into place.
Finders keepers.
The second dresser contained more jeans than any one man needed. Huffing, I went to the walls, pawing at them in search of the magical closets that had to exist or I’d be storming his many hells again to fix the problem. After two rounds of the room, I discovered a button in the corner. When pressed, it popped open a door, which led into a massive closet filled with suit jackets, dress slacks, and dress shirts, all hung properly. A full-length mirror stood in one corner, and I bet the Devil spent a ridiculous amount of time admiring himself in front of it.
A quick investigation revealed he had a suit for every day of the year and some extra thrown in, and he had a shirt in every color. Sticking to my plan, I went with white, approving of his meticulous hanging, with the cuffs and collars properly settled, and every other button fixed into place to help make certain the shirt kept its shape. I checked the hanger, nodding my approval he hadn’t used a cheap metal one, which had a tendency to destroy dress shirts given enough time.
As expected, the dress shirt hung halfway down my thighs, standing in for a rather short dress.
Wearing a tie transformed the shirt into rather indecent apparel, as it drew a great deal of attention to my breasts, which would end the shirt’s days as suitable for the Devil’s wear due to an inappropriate amount of fabric strain.
Oops.
He could afford a new shirt.
Satisfied with my choice of apparel, I cracked open the bedroom door and peeked through the gap to discover the Devil in his sitting room surrounded by a herd of succubi, all of whom had opted to wear slinky cocktail dresses designed to show off as much skin as possible.
I flattened my ears and my fur stood on end, but before I could do more than hiss at the sex demonesses surrounding the Devil, he stood, strode my way, opened the door, placed his hand over my eyes, and said, “Teach your tricks to the newcomer rather than trying to teach me tricks I taught you centuries ago. Also, do not join Darlene in raiding my closet for my clothes, as I do not have nearly enough shirts to sacrifice to your filthy ways.”
The succubi giggled, and I clacked my teeth together, growling at the thought of them having successfully lured the naked Devil to his bed while I’d only accomplished getting naked.
“When would you like to resume our discussion?” a sultry voice asked.
“How long will it take for you to thoroughly educate your new friend? You should all have a turn with him.”
The giggles intensified, and the same woman replied, “We’ll take our time. Call us.”
The Devil chuckled, and he didn’t lower his hand from my eyes until the sounds from his sitting room quieted. “I see you found your way into my closet.” His eyes drifted down to my chest. “I’m finding the sacrifice of my shirt to be perfectly acceptable.”
I joined him in staring at my breasts, which stretched the shirt enough he could peek through the gaps with little trouble. Unfortunately for him, my fur and his tie did a good job of masking his view, and the shirt obscured most of my best spots. “I find the fit to be questionable, possibly scandalous.”