What was she going to do now? There was a demon unconscious and bleeding on her floor. Darn it all, when she’d seen him going through her underwear, realized what he was, she should have just run. Collared, he couldn’t use any of his demon abilities. Knocked-out, he wasn’t a physical threat to her. But she wouldn’t be able to keep him unconscious and collared for the three remaining days that she was here.

Or could she?

Well, maybe not unconscious by using such violence as a fry pan to his skull. His head was already bleeding, and who knew what sort of permanent damage repeated blows to his head would do? It’s not like he could fix the wound with the collar on. No, she’d need to keep him unconscious some other way — like with sedatives. But she was supposed to trade the collar to the Gormand. Nyalla narrowed her eyes and tapped her foot. Keep this demon collared and sedated until the Gormand agreed to the exchange, then she could use her wand on him and take the collar off. The wand would give her twenty-four hours, so she’d need to cut her vacation short, but that was the only solution she could think of where she was safe from this demon and could still honor the exchange that Sam had contracted.

Nyalla looked down at the demon, her lips pursed in thought. Yes, excellent idea. The store down the street sold all sorts of things like Benadryl, NyQuil, and a variety of sleep aids. Of course, she could hardly leave him here on her hallway floor while she ran down to the local pharmacy. What if he came to and ran off? Or hid in wait for her? She shivered, remembering the strength of his arms around her legs. She’d been lucky this time.

Putting the bloody, dented frying pan back on the stove, she grabbed the demon by the arm and tugged. And tugged. Slowly the limp body moved, inch by inch as she eased him back down the hallway away from the door. Tie him to a chair? No, he was too strong. She needed something where he couldn’t hop around and crash into things to wiggle loose.

The bed. Reversing course, Nyalla continued to drag the demon forward, only to come to an abrupt stop as the demon’s legs hit one side of the threshold and his head banged against the other.

Fudge. She hopped over him, shifting and rolling until he was in place, then continued to haul him to the bed.

Standing back, Nyalla lifted her hair and fanned her neck, feeling beads of sweat trickle between her breasts and down her back. Sheesh, this guy was heavy. She’d barely managed to drag him in here. How in the world was she going to lift him onto the mattress?

Movies made these things look so easy. In reality, they weren’t. Nyalla managed to sit the demon upright only to find she couldn’t lift his dead weight further. Sliding him back on the floor, she scooted his feet and legs onto the mattress, then tried to get herself underneath his back, hoping to lift him upright using her legs. Nope. It was no use. She needed a ramp.

The rattle of the housekeeping cart outside her door caught her attention. Nyalla held her breath, releasing it as the cart rumbled by. That was it.

“Stay here,” she told the unconscious demon before racing down the hall.

The maid had been perplexed, but had happily loaned her two sturdy mops. Moments later, she had rolled him up onto a series of stacked couch cushions until he was only a few inches from the bed. The demon was sprawled, legs and arms akimbo on top of two mop handles and his bed of cushions. Nyalla took a breath and grabbed a handle in each hand, then lifted, shaking with the weight of the demon. He rolled off the mop handles and onto the bed.

Thank the Goddess. The hard part was over. Some duct-tape and rope later, and the demon was securely bound, hands-and-feet to the bed. Not a moment too soon either. With a moan that had her feeling rather guilty, he opened his eyes.

Wow, they were beautiful eyes. Earlier they’d seemed blue, but now they swirled with green and gray. His spiky black hair hadn’t fared well with all the dragging and rolling, and locks of it spilled across his forehead and into those eyes. He was darned good looking for a demon. Nicely built too. She’d peeked under his shirt after getting him up on the bed. After all that effort, she felt she at least deserved a quick look. She’d wanted to look at other parts of him too, but getting him tied up had been a priority, and now the opportunity had passed.

Or had it? Demons were a randy lot, and given the hard-on this one had been sporting during their tussle on the floor, he wasn’t any different. Whacking someone over the head repeatedly with a frying pan usually nipped any chance of sexual intercourse in the bud, but with demons, who knew? They often found that sort of thing arousing.

What was wrong with her, thinking of sex at this time? She was here on a mission. She had a dangerous being collared and tied to her bed. At least he’d stopped bleeding. The thought how many times she’d hit him with the pan made her wince.

“Are you okay? How is your head feeling?”

The demon’s jaw set like granite and he glared at her. “Let me loose and take this collar off me right now.”

She couldn’t help taking a step backward at his tone. “I need to run out for just a minute. I’ll be right back, and then we’ll talk.” Talk. Right. More like, ‘then I’ll drug you into oblivion for three days’.

He snarled. “You are not leaving me here. Let me loose now, or so help me I will tear this place apart.”

The demon struggled, yanking against the ropes and tape ineffectually. Nyalla hid a smile.

She must not have hid it as well as she thought.

“You’ll pay for this, you spawn of Lilith, you messy pig, you sinful, horrible human creature!”

Like he was one to talk. She couldn’t exactly leave him here shouting and yelling while she ran to the drug store. Someone might hear him and call management, then where would she be?

“Be quiet,” Nyalla said, grabbing the first thing that came to hand and cramming it into the demon’s mouth. “I’ll be right back. Don’t do anything stupid.”

* * *

Gabriel watched the woman leave, heard the click of the door. This was unbelievable. A four-billion-year-old archangel had been rendered powerless, knocked unconscious, and tied to the bed by a little slip of a human woman. And now the blood was leaving his brain again, abandoning him for that stupid protuberance that was trying to break its way out of his pants. No doubt his body’s betrayal had something to do with whatever she’d shoved into his mouth. Silky, lacy, smelling just like…like when he’d been face down in her lap. Clearly a certain traitorous part of his human form was fond of tiny pants.

The door clicked open, and Gabriel turned his head toward the bedroom door. She was back already? That was fast. Good, because this little ‘talk’ they were going to have was only going to end one way. He wouldn’t hurt her, but she didn’t know that. If he could get the upper hand physically, he could threaten her into taking this abominable thing off his neck.

Something rattled, like metal. A woman’s voice drifted toward him answered by another. Spanish. Two women, and by their voices, neither was his captor. Gabriel struggled against the ropes, trying to shout through the wad of lace and silk in his mouth. How humiliating that he was appealing to these human women for help.

Two figures appeared at the bedroom doorway, one holding a broom and the other a sponge. They took one look at him and froze, their eyes enormous, their mouths in an ‘O’. Then one began to giggle, clapping a hand over her mouth. Their eyes traveled down him, across his body only to halt staring at the stupid organ that stood upright like a tent pole in his pants.

The giggling one came forward cautiously, her eyes alight with amusement. With careful fingers, she removed the fabric from his mouth.

“Nesisitas…ayuda?” she asked. The other woman in the doorway began to laugh.

He licked his lips, instantly regretting the effect it had on the lower part of his anatomy. Darn it, he could still smell her, taste her on his mouth.

“Si, por favor.” He told them. “And can you please take this thing off my neck while you’re at it?”