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Back For a Few Demons More
Chapters (48)
  1. Title Page
  2. Dedication
  3. Epigraph
  4. ONE
  5. TWO
  6. THREE
  7. FOUR
  8. FIVE
  9. SIX
  10. SEVEN
  11. EIGHT
  12. NINE
  13. TEN
  14. ELEVEN
  15. TWELVE
  16. THIRTEEN
  17. FOURTEEN
  18. FIFTEEN
  19. SIXTEEN
  20. SEVENTEEN
  21. EIGHTEEN
  22. NINETEEN
  23. TWENTY
  24. TWENTY-ONE
  25. TWENTY-TWO
  26. TWENTY-THREE
  27. TWENTY-FOUR
  28. TWENTY-FIVE
  29. TWENTY-SIX
  30. TWENTY-SEVEN
  31. TWENTY-EIGHT
  32. TWENTY-NINE
  33. THIRTY
  34. THIRTY-ONE
  35. THIRTY-TWO
  36. THIRTY-THREE
  37. THIRTY-FOUR
  38. THIRTY-FIVE
  39. THIRTY-SIX
  40. THIRTY-SEVEN
  41. THIRTY-EIGHT
  42. THIRTY-NINE
  43. The Undead Pool: An Excerpt
  44. Chapter 2
  45. About the Author
  46. Also by Kim Harrison
  47. Credits
  48. About the Publisher

He was aiming at my lips, but, conscious of David, I turned and he got the corner of my mouth instead. His low growl of bother sent a spike of desire unexpectedly through me. He wasn’t truly upset—more like amused—and I wondered if playing hard to get one night might be extremely fun. Or deadly.

“I’m…ah, sorry for postponing our date,” I said when he leaned back, becoming flustered when he’d lingered a moment too long. “Let me know when you have another night free, and I’ll get the reservation changed.”

David gave Kisten an up-and-down look, then took his drink and moseyed down the bar to stare at the pictures. Blue eyes gazing up at the ceiling, Kisten ran a hand through his hair to leave it attractively tousled. “Oh,” he teased, leaning against the bar to look alluring and in control. “My witch has enough clout to snag a reservation at the Tower whenever she wants.” He held a hand to his chest. “My masculine pride is wounded. I had to make mine three months ago.”

“It’s not me,” I said, pushing at his shoulder, but not hard enough to move him. “Trent is doing it. It was part of the deal that I work his wedding.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said. “The point is that it’s done, and it was done—for you.”

Not knowing what to say, I drank my tea. The melting ice shifted, and I almost got a lapful of it. “I’m really sorry,” I said again, shaking the glass to get the ice to move. “I wouldn’t have said yes to Trent, but he waved enough money at me to get the church resanctified,” I finished sourly. My gaze went distant as I wondered if I should tell him about my encounter with Ivy this morning, then decided against it. Maybe later, when we had more time.

Kisten bent to reach over the bar, and, realizing I was ogling him, I put my attention back on my drink and off his tight butt. Crap, the man knew how to dress to showcase himself.

“Forget it,” he said when he settled himself on the stool beside me, a bowl of almonds in his hands. “Someday I’m going to have to cancel on you because of business, and then…” He popped a nut into his mouth and crunched through it. “…you’re going to have to take it gracefully and not be a spastic girlfriend.”

“Spastic girlfriend?” I huffed, realizing that his quick acceptance came from self-preservation, not understanding. Mildly ticked, I swiveled my stool, my fingers on my cold glass.