Between Heaven & Hell

“Damn, this is pointless,” the recorded Tristan said. “I can’t tell you all about your life in just a few hours. There’d be stuff missing and it’d be like a half-written story with gaps and plot holes. So here’s the important stuff. The stuff you really need to know. It all started on Halloween night the year before last…”

* * * *

Tristan Garrett could feel the man’s eyes on him as he moved away from the bar. Like many of the men in The Inferno, the stranger had gone all out for Halloween and was the very image of a sexy, badass devil. He wore a pair of fake red horns atop his head. They poked out from his shoulder-length, ebony hair and the lights of the club caught them each time he turned to survey the crowded room.

Tristan admired the way his tight leather trousers hugged his shapely arse, and his hands itched to trace the washboard abs that were only partially covered by the black vest.

Tristan wasn’t the only man in the club following the devil’s movements. Several had approached him only to be turned away after barely a few seconds had passed. The direct approach didn’t seem to be working with this guy.

“He’s out of your league,” teased Lawrence, Tristan’s best friend and former lover, when he caught Tristan checking out the devil for the third time in less than ten minutes.

“No such thing,” Tristan replied lightly. “You’re the one who taught me to go after what I want and not let anyone tell me I’m not good enough for them.”

Lawrence took a swig from his pint of beer before he answered. “Fifty quid says you can’t pull him.”

Tristan watched as the devil rebuffed the latest man to approach him. The devil smiled in his direction and even though he hadn’t said a word, Tristan sensed he might have a chance if he were to try his luck.

“I’ll take that bet,” Tristan replied quietly. He maintained eye contact with the devil as he slowly finished his beer and put the glass down on a nearby table. He nudged Lawrence towards the dance floor. They had played this game countless times, and it almost always worked. Lawrence led the way and Tristan followed. Moulding their bodies together, Tristan’s back to Lawrence’s front, they began to slowly move in time to the pulsing beat of the music.

Tristan closed his eyes and rested his head back on Lawrence’s shoulder, letting the taller man set the pace. He knew his fair-skinned looks and spiky strawberry blond hair were complemented by the contrast as he nestled against Lawrence’s dark hair and bulkier frame. He was a fit and healthy twenty-seven-year old, and while he wasn’t the best built guy in town, he knew how to draw attention to himself when he wanted to. Right now he wanted the attention of the devil focused on him. He wasn’t going to chase the other man to win the bet. The devil would come to him. He was absolutely sure of it.

Lawrence whispered the devil’s movements in his ear. “He’s watching us. We’re turning him on. He’s watching me grinding my cock into your arse and wishing it was his.”

Tristan moved back against Lawrence as his friend slowly rubbed his thighs, inching his fingers close to his groin. He guessed that within five minutes the devil would be approaching him, just as they had planned. The devil wouldn’t care he was with someone else right now—he’d step in and claim what he wanted, no matter who stood in his way. “Soon,” he whispered, as the slow beat of the music changed to a faster, insistent pace.

Sure enough, just a few minutes later, a hand on his chest caused him to open his eyes. “May I cut in?” the stranger in front of him asked politely.

Tristan blinked in surprise. It wasn’t the devil who stood before him. Instead, a blond Adonis had asked him to dance. Tristan stared into piercing blue eyes and nodded mutely. The man pulled him into his arms so they were dancing face-to-face and close enough for their erections to touch through the material of their jeans.

“I’m Mac,” the dancer whispered into his ear.

“Tristan,” Tristan replied when he finally found his voice.

Lawrence seemed slightly unsure as he stepped away. Tristan shrugged and smiled. “Guess I owe you,” he said. The dark-haired devil had left his spot near the bar and had disappeared into the crowd. Tristan realised he must have misjudged his potential conquest. He should have kept eye contact with him.

Still, the evening wasn’t a complete loss, not if he ended up going home with the hunk who was holding him close right now. The devil was forgotten as Tristan gave himself up to the music and the man who held him in his arms.

* * * *

The club lights came on, signalling closing time, when Tristan and Mac finally left the dance floor and moved with the rest of the lingering clubbers towards the exit. They were nearly at the door when the devil from earlier in the evening stepped into their path. “You don’t play fair, Machidiel,” the devil said accusingly.

Mac swung his arm around Tristan’s shoulder and gave him a quick squeeze. Tristan recognised the move as the sign of possession it was. “Who’s playing?” Mac replied.

“This isn’t one of your usual haunts.” The devil reached out to run a hand down Tristan’s bare arm. “And this one isn’t your usual type.”

Mac smiled down at Tristan. “He isn’t exactly your type either, now, is he?”

The lights were brighter near the entrance, and Tristan could see the devil was wearing red contact lenses, completing the demonic look he had chosen to go for. Right now those eyes twinkled with amusement.

Before he could speak, Mac steered him around the devil and out into the cool night air.

“Tristan,” the devil called after them. “We have a date. Next Halloween.”

Tristan looked back over his shoulder only once. A shiver ran down his spine at the intensity he saw in the glowing red eyes.

How did the guy know his name?