Emma knew it was an off day when she found herself face down on a paisley patterned rug, hands bound behind her back.
Man, if she didn’t have bad luck, she’d have no damn luck at all! At least she wasn’t a bathtub of ice this time! Thank God for small favors.
“Lucus! I know you’re there, you creep!”
Somewhere behind her, a floorboard creaked. Footsteps shuffled, coming around until she was face-to-toe with a pair of chalky feet and hairy ankles that led up to even hairier calves and thighs.
“I don’t mean to sound rude, but what… the… hell! And why are you in your boxers?” Did demons even wear boxers? Apparently, cute ones with compasses on them. In case they lost their way through the portals of hell? Possibly.
A low chuckle followed her irate wiggling. “I love the smell of burnt irony in the morning.”
“That’s not irony, pal, that’s me getting pissed! Untie me or—”
Knees bending, her captive crouched, leaning close. “Or what, diddler?”
Emma gasped. “I am not a diddler!”
A sandy-brown eyebrow tilted against masterfully crafted features. “Yet you summoned me here… naked.”
Okay, so he was naked, if you didn’t count the boxers, but…
“I had nothing to do with… most… of that!”
Amusement vanished. “You do know its October, right? Certain parts of me really do not appreciate the abrupt weather changes!” he rose to his feet. “Sadistic witches! Always meddling. Do you guys have some kind of sick demon fetish? Have you no conscience!”
Emma snorted. “Of course I do! It's in a little silver box at the back of my closet screaming, ‘Let me out, let me out! You're making bad choices!’”
It was hard to tell from the angle she was in, but she could have sworn he almost smirked before he turned his back on her.
“You’re impossible.”
She gave her shoulders a shrug. “Yeah, well, comes with the pointy hat and broomstick riding classes. Now, can you please let me go?”
“Not until you promise to quite opening hell portals! I do have other things to do, you know!”
Emma rolled her eyes. “Right, like what? You know you love coming up here.”
His sign muffled the shuffle of his feet as he returned to her side. “When this is over you owe me some chocolate, tissues, and a session with a good therapist.”
“Your gratitude sucks.”
His grunt was followed by the loosening of her binds. “You're nuts! Screw that - your whole family's nuts! Every time you summon me, I get zapped, poked, prodded and fondled! I’m going to start charging a fee!”
Shaking the rope off, Emma sat up on her knees. “Well, we're part pecan from my mom's side and part pistachio from my dad's. And I have a half-brother who's part peanut but he's a legume so I don't think he really counts."
He stared a moment, disbelief wrinkling the bridge of his nose. “I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.”
“Like what?”
“Your attitude.”
“I do not have an attitude! I have a personality you can’t handle. Now stand still so I can send you back to your precious life.”
“Wait!” Hands raised above her head, Emma arched a brow, waiting. “I want all my pieces this time! I swear, you decapitate anything and I’ll—”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re no fun, now hold still.”
He did, cupping his hands down discreetly over his lap. Emma would have laughed, and she did, after she sent him back with everything… except the boxers.