Isobel whirled to face the door a moment before it slammed open, a gust of wind pushing its way inside, bringing with it the scent of freshly turned earth and…her freaking sister.

“Eva, what are you doing here?” Isobel asked her sibling, who stood in the doorway looking resplendent as always in a thin, black pencil skirt that went to her ankles, trendy little black boots, and a skin-tight, silky, red top. Held in one hand was her mighty broom, the old-fashioned kind with stiff straw bits bound to a long thick staff.

Did the filthy house cringe a little at the sight of a formidable cleaning adversary?

“There you are, little sister,” Eva stated.

“Sister? You know this broad?” He jerked a thumb at Eva.

“Yes, I know her. That’s Evangeline, my sister.”

“Howdy, sista.” Christopher grinned, but Eva didn’t look impressed.

“Call me anything other than ma’am, and I’ll rip out your tongue.” Her rouged lips pursed in a bitchy smirk of disapproval.

“Aren’t you just a lovely girl.” Said with a male sarcasm that didn’t understand the possibility he could be turned into a toad.

Eva smiled, the cold smile of a shark about to snap at its prey. “Keep talking, pretty boy. I’m not afraid to make you cry.”

Wait, did her sister just call him pretty? That brought a frown.

“You didn’t tell me your sister was into sadomasochism.” Christopher dug his grave even deeper.

“Um, you might not want to antagonize her,” Isobel muttered.

Eva waved a hand. “No. No. Let the boy speak his mind. He should enjoy his tongue while he has it.”

“You are not to rip it out.” Isobel stood in front of Christopher and glared at her sister.

“I’ll decide what happens to him. It will depend on his answers, starting with, what are you doing with Isobel?”

“Isobel? That’s your name?” he asked.

She cast him a glance over her shoulder. “Yes.”

“I like duckie better.”

Oddly enough, so did she. But back to her sister. “Why are you here?”

“Mother’s having a fit. Says you disappeared.”

“I left her a note.” Because Isobel had enough brains to know better than to go visit a stranger in a cemetery without letting someone know where she’d gone.

“I know about the note. How do you think I found you?” Her sister stepped farther into the room and positioned her broom in front of her, angling the top at Christopher. “I am still waiting to find out who this lowlife is.”

Before Isobel could say anything, he stepped forward. “Christopher Baphomet, the fucking Antichrist. And, apparently, I can’t get any respect.”

At that declaration, Eva froze then giggled. Then outright laughed, the ribald laughter at odds with her rather cultured appearance.

“Did he just say—” Eva chortled, unable to repeat it.

“Yes,” Isobel sighed. “He thinks he’s Lucifer’s son.”

“But Lucifer only has daughters,” Eva exclaimed. “Everyone knows that.”

“You can laugh at my destiny all you like,” he grumbled. “At least I don’t believe in some horny devil who lives in some imaginary place with flames.”

“Oh, Hell is real. The flames are only in parts of it. It’s actually more like the mortal plane than people realize. But ashier.” Evangeline made a moue of disgust. “And smellier.”

“So you’ve been to Hell? Why am I not surprised?”

“I’ve been there and back. Don’t tempt me to go again. I’m allowed to bring guests.” Eva took a threatening step in Christopher’s direction.

Isobel stepped in between them once more. “No one is going to Hell.”

“Speak for yourself. I’ve earned my place.” Eva tossed her head. “And he’s asking for a killing if he keeps pissing me off.”

“I’m pissing you off?” His tone rose. “You’re the one who burst in here unannounced. And just when I was about to—”

“What?”

Yeah, what was Christopher about to do?

“Kiss your sister. Maybe cop a feel.”

For a moment, silence reigned. Isobel couldn’t believe he’d said it. Even Eva seemed taken aback.

He, on the other hand, seemed rather smug.

Her sister recovered quickly. “Isobel would never have kissed you. You’re not her type—”

Yes, he is.

“—and she’s a good girl.”

What? No. Why did everyone think that? She bristled. “I would too have kissed him.”

“Oh, please. Miss Perfectly Well Behaved doing something dirty with a boy?” Eva blew a raspberry once again at odds with her elegant exterior.

“I am not Miss Perfect. I’ll have you know I put my shoes on the table this morning. And I talked back to Grandfather.”

“Ooh.” Said with utter exaggeration and an eye roll. Eva snickered. “Such a rebel. But that’s nothing. I know you. You would have never stuck your tongue in that man’s mouth.” Eva pointed at him. “I, on the other hand, would, because I’m the bad sister.”

“So does that mean you want to kiss me?” Christopher sounded confused, and he also happened to be looking at Eva.

Not Isobel.

She didn’t like it one bit.

He’s mine. I saw him first.

“Well, it just goes to show how little my family knows me. I will kiss whomever I like.” Isobel threw herself at Christopher, who caught her, without any stagger. He was a solid man, more solid than she would have thought under his bulky layers.

“Are you going to kiss me to spite your sister?” he asked as she craned on tiptoe. “Because I’m okay with that.”

“Shut up.” She mashed her mouth to his, unwilling to admit that her sister was right. She did lack experience, but who needed experience when the touch of him set her on fire?

At the press of his mouth on hers, need burned brightly inside her. All her nerve endings awakened, aware of everything from the brush of her clothing against her skin to the soft and yet hard press of his mouth against hers.

She could have sworn she heard a crack, like thunder, or was that the crackle of fireworks? The earth under her feet certainly seemed rather unsteady.

His hands spanned her waist, lifting her so that she wouldn’t have to crane. Lifted her with effortless strength. How lovely. The tip of his tongue teased the seam of her mouth, and she parted her lips, wanting to—

“Ahem.”

He licked the inside of her lip.

“I said fucking ahem. You made your point. You’re a huge slut,” Eva grumbled.

“And your sister has shitty timing,” he grumbled against Isobel’s lips. It broke the spell.

Isobel pulled away from Christopher, panting slightly, her skin feeling hot and flushed. She turned to face her sister, ignoring him at her back even though he swayed into her, a hard presence begging she climb him for another kiss.

Eva appeared amused. “I guess I was wrong.”

“I guess you were.” Isobel couldn’t help but sound breathless, the kiss affecting her more than she expected.

“And this would be your cue to leave,” Christopher added. “So we can finish that kiss in private. Unless you want to watch. I’m okay with it, but I don’t know about duckie.”

Finish the kiss? Yes. No. Yes. Isobel didn’t know what she wanted.

Luckily, Eva knew the right answer. “If it were up to me, I’d let you both go wild, but Mother was quite firm with her instructions. I am to bring you home.”

“Now?”

“Now.”

Out of habit, Isobel took a step toward her sister.

“Mama’s girl.” Christopher coughed into his hand.

It drew Eva’s ire. “What did you say, twat waffle?”

“Leave my duckie alone. You can see she wants to stay.”

My duckie.

Isobel hesitated.

“Don’t make me cast a curse on you.” Eva pointed a finger tipped with a sharp, red nail.

He held up his hands and waved them. “Ooh. I’m so scared. Let me guess, you’re a big bad witch.”

“Actually, I am. And it’s Wickedest Witch, asshole.” Eva thrust out her hand and flung a jolt of power that Isobel could almost see.

It made impact with Christopher’s chest, hard enough that his feet left the ground and he slammed into the wall. The invisible force held him there, pinned like a bug on a windshield.

Isobel winced. Guess we won’t be continuing that kiss.

Eva turned her attention to Isobel. “Really, little sister. I expected better than this from you. I mean, look at him. Sure, he’s cute, but he works in a cemetery, and he’s delusional. If you’re going to slum, you might as well date a dog. At least they’re housebroken.”

“You know Father told us not to call the shifters that. Or don’t you recall the trouble you got in last time?” The last time being at a huge wedding for some faerie princess. A drunken Eva threw a ball in front of a wolf breed alpha and said, “Fetch.”

It had almost started a war, especially since the ball turned out to be the head of a guest. Needless to say, the family wasn’t currently welcome on fae lands, and the shifters were only appeased after Mother bribed them with a hundred head of cattle. Luckily, the pack didn’t like the guy Eva had decapitated either.

“Are you going to tattle on me? You know what happens to snitches.” Eva glared, yet Isobel didn’t flinch. Her big sister might tease her and put green dye in her shampoo that wouldn’t come off without a spell that involved gargling frog spit, but Eva loved Isobel and would literally kill anyone who ever hurt her.

Eventually.

Knowing Eva, she’d torture them for a while first.

Thump.

The sound drew their attention to Christopher, who no longer hung on the wall and now fixed them with a stern, angry face.

It was a cute, angry face.

“I don’t think you should have let him go yet,” Isobel said as he stalked toward them.

“I didn’t,” mumbled Eva, her brows drawing together. “How did he do that?”

Christopher had broken the spell. But how?

“I think I’ve had enough of you both. Unless you’re planning to get naked and have a sister-on-sister orgy with me, then you need to leave. Now.” His voice dropped an octave, and Isobel could have sworn she saw a spark of orange in the depths of his gaze. “Out!” He pointed to the door.

A strange force grabbed her and Eva, making it hard to keep her balance as she found herself shoved through the open door and pushed outside.

Slam.

The portal closed, and they spent a second staring at it.

“What an interesting man,” Eva mused aloud.

“He’s mine,” Isobel said. Then slapped a hand over her mouth.

Too late. Eva heard and smirked. “Oh boy. I can’t wait to see what Mother and Grandfather have to say about that.”

“Don’t you dare tell them about Christopher.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll tell them you’re not a virgin.”

Eva’s gaze narrowed. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.” Because, for some reason, Isobel wasn’t ready to give up on Christopher. Sure, he might style himself as the Antichrist and constantly make remarks about bedding her, but on the other hand, Eva was right… He’s interesting. And she began to wonder just who and what he was because, after that display of force, there was definitely more to him than met the eye.

“Need a lift?” Eva asked as she sat astride the broom, her pencil skirt forcing her to perch side-saddle rather than straddling.

“I’d rather drive.” Isobel feared heights, and the few times Eva had taken her on the broom, she’d just about thrown up. She’d stick to vehicles on the ground, thank you.

“Suit yourself.” Her sister gripped the long pole and swooped off.

As for Isobel, she cast a glance back at the ramshackle cottage. A part of her expected Christopher to pop out. To demand she stay, and maybe kiss her again.

The door remained disappointingly closed. Probably for the best. With her mind even more confused than before, she went home to deal with her mother.

She’d have rather fought the undead.