Personal Demon (Otherworld 8)

"Whatever it is, you don't really mean it. For example, you can think you'd like to strangle Jaz, but unless you mean it, I won't detect it."

"What if it's just wishful thinking?" Sonny said.

Jaz snatched the bottle from him and they parried insults for a minute.

"Cut it out, you two," Rodriguez called over. "I want to hear more about this power. How about we all think something bad, and see if Faith picks it up? We'll--"

I didn't hear the rest, caught up in the vision of a voluptuous redhead, writhing, bound to a bed. I followed it to a red-haired woman on the dance floor, then tracked it back to the source.

"Tony!" I shuddered. "Please. I think I need brain soap after that."

"What did you hear?" Jaz asked.

"Not hear. See. In living color." I glanced meaningfully at the redhead.

"Shit," Tony said.

"You doubted her?" Jaz smacked Tony's arm. "Dumb ass. I warned you. So what was he thinking about the girl?"

I shook my head.

Sonny waved the bottle. "Another couple of these and she'll tell us."

"Shit, guys," Tony muttered. "I was just joking."

"Uh-uh," Jaz said. "Remember what she said. If you aren't serious, she doesn't hear it. Or see it, apparently."

Sonny refilled our shot glasses. Tony gulped his, then took a second. I lifted mine.

"You don't have to drink it," Jaz whispered. "If you don't, I won't. No one will say anything."

My head was still spinning from the first, and I knew this one would take me over the edge. But I wanted to drink it. Hope Adams wouldn't. One shot--sipped and probably in a margarita--would have been her limit. But tonight I didn't want to be Hope. Didn't want to be twenty-seven years old, happy in my dead-end job, dumped by a middle-aged werewolf, struggling to make my family proud of me, staving off the demonic urges by sipping chaos, never satisfied, never full. Tonight, I wanted to be Faith Edmonds, twenty-one, no job, no responsibilities, chugging back chaos like tequila shots, getting sloshed in a nightclub, on the lap of the hottest guy in the room.

I downed the shot.

The room reeled. Jaz gulped his. His green eyes glittered with the buzz, and his arms tightened around me as he nuzzled my neck, hands sliding down my hips.

"Jesus," Tony said. "Not wasting any time with the new girl, are you?"

"He barely let her get in the front door before he pounced," Sonny said. "Making sure she didn't have time to check out her options."

"Jump before anyone else gets a chance, huh?" Tony said, kicking him under the table.

Jaz lifted his head from my neck. "After what she just saw in your head, I don't think you had a chance."

The others laughed and kept on Tony, razzing him, but Jaz's attention returned to me, his hands rubbing my arms, then sliding down my legs, his whispers telling me he was well on the way to being drunk. I leaned back against him and lapped it up.

"What time is it?" he murmured.

I sputtered a laugh. "Why? Is there someplace you need to be?"

"No, just wondering. I'd check myself but..." His fingers slid to the inside of my thighs. "My hands are busy."

I sighed and lifted my arm. There, on my wrist, was a sparkling new gold and silver Cartier.

"Holy shit."

"You said yours was a cheapie." He nibbled my earlobe. "You deserve better."