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darkness. There was no moon this night, only the stars and the coolness of evening to soothe her.
    She swept a hand through her hair and waited.
     
    * * * *
    Abra slid the finished angel’s easel next to the demon. It hadn’t come out as she’d hoped. Its hair, originally a muted auburn, had somehow grown into flaming reds and oranges as if it were afire. Although angelic at first glance, its shadow revealed its nature. Abra sighed, angry with herself. She flicked off the light and glared at the clock shining at her from her bedroom. Two in the morning and she’d not regained the style she lost when the demon visited. She feared she’d never get it back.
    After she cleaned herself up and brushed her teeth, Abra slunk down the hall and into her bedroom. She slipped beneath the fresh sheets, linens that no longer bore Val’s musky, alluring scent. She hugged her pillow to her body and cried.
    If he showed up again the following day, she didn’t think she’d be able to resist him.
     
     

Chapter Five
     
    The cool November breeze couldn’t stifle the heatwaves emanating from the lonely asphalt road that cut through the farmland. Abra stood on the porch waiting for him. Inside the house, the clock ticked, and she heard it. She wore a long skirt and a t-shirt, nothing tempting, just plain and simple. Abra brought a glass of ice water to her lips, sipped and swallowed. This is it.
    The clock clanged out twelve times, its tone echoing.
    On the crest of the hill, Val strode along in his blue jeans and white t-shirt. His pace carried him past the barbed wire and unlike that first time, he didn’t waste a moment tracing the line. He hurried along, his gaze intent on her.
    She set her glass down and grasped the porch rail, descending the steps to the grass. “Hurry up!” she called to him. “You’ve got less than an hour now.” She smirked. For a fleeting moment, she decided maybe she could resist him.
    Val jogged along. He entered the property and only slowed when he approached her. “Afternoon.”
    “Yeah.” She held her hand out to him, and he took it. “You have some explaining to do.”
    He shot her a sideways grin. “Do I?”
    “Come on.”
    Avoiding his heated gaze, she led him up the steps, across the porch and into the kitchen. A glance at the dining room table made her cringe, her mind awash with coupling with him there. The chair she bumped into offered a similar fantasy, him seated beneath her, tugging her down again and again.
    “What’s your name?” she stopped before the side by side paintings.
    He let go of her hand, heat remaining around her fingers as if he hadn’t. Phantom kisses worked along her neck. Unseen fingers ran down her spine, her ass and paused to cup her butt cheeks.
    “Val,” he answered. “You know that.”
    “It’s short for something. You’re a demon. We both know that part. What is it? Who are you, really?”
    He studied the new painting, his thumb and forefinger stroking his chin. “ Valefar .” Turning, he winked at her. “You’re good, Abra . You see things most don’t. There wasn’t an artist to take down what I looked like before the Fall , but…” he nodded. “This. This, my dear, is a masterpiece.”
    He walked a circle around her, his incubi assaulting her with kisses and licks. Fingers sought out her cleft and found it wet and wanting. Abra tried to stifle her desire for him. “You’re impossible,” she whispered.
    “But you’re fighting me.” He halted in front of her, grasped her shoulders and ran his lips across hers, not quite a kiss, more like a promise of one if she complied. “Why?”
    “I cleaned the house. I know what you are, what you want from me.”
    “What do I want? To be needed? To have a companion? To be loved?”
    “Noonday demon,” she said, accusing. “That’s why you show at midday and why you leave soon after. You want me to sin, to lose faith. I won’t do it.”
    “Humph.” He drew closer and assaulted her mouth,