ESTHER EGG HUNT by Sam Cheever

ESTHER EGG HUNT by Sam Cheever

Book 3: Holidays are Hell Series

This Easter, rather than dying…again…Esther’s gonna resurrect some serious feelings in her sexy perdition guide.

Esther Mills is caught in Hell’s version of ground hog day. Every year she’s resurrected on Easter and relives her death, only to be escorted to Hell again.

The one thing that makes her life tolerable is being escorted back to Hell each time by Lucifer, her sexy perdition guide. Esther and Luc share a hot crush. But for some reason he won’t act on his feelings.

So this Easter, Esther’s gonna make sure Luc can’t ignore her any longer. She’s going to take her life back…and when she’s done with her sexy devil, he’s not gonna know what hit him!

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Holidays are Hell: Esther Egg Hunt
 Sam Cheever
 All rights reserved.
 Copyright ©2013 Sam Cheever

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

Fire lit the night sky, painting the thin film of clouds with orange and yellow light. Esther Mooring laid her head back and sighed, enjoying the cooler air that came with the night. Another burst of fire lightened the sky, ending in a series of fiery loops that made a funny whirring noise as they plunged toward the ground.

Esther's neighbors cheered, and somebody popped the cork on a bottle of something bubbly. She frowned, wondering what it would be like to celebrate Good Friday eve like a normal person. Well, at least a normal dead person living in Hell.

She sipped white wine and scratched a quickly growing bump from a bug bite. Hell didn't have regular mosquitoes. They were more like small airplanes that buzzed and snapped razor-sharp teeth as they dived toward you.

Esther generally hid in the house at night. But the holiday fireworks display was too tempting to resist. So she'd come out dressed head to toe, with her hand-held flamethrower clutched in one hand to sear the biting bastards when they tried to dive-bomb her.

Good Friday was a major holiday in Hell. Unlike Christmas, which Hellions ridiculed and banned as fiction, the pre-Easter holiday from her youth was celebrated as a happy event, with presents and parties.

Esther had never joined in the fun. Not because of any residual childhood memories about the sober way her parents had treated the day, but because, for her, the spirit of the day was all too real.
The only thing that made it bearable was knowing she would soon see him again... gorgeous Luc with the intense green eyes and perfect, round behind that made her mouth water. Though her sexy perdition guide barely spoke to her, she knew he was interested by the way that serious green gaze followed her every movement when they were together.

A loud buzzing brought Esther's head up and she reacted quickly, pressing the button to send a narrow flame into the sky from her mini-thrower. The fanged bloodsucker spread its wings and tried to stay outside the range of the flame, but it didn't quite make it. The fist-sized bug sizzled into ash in the space of a heartbeat, falling to the ground and joining a dozen of its evil compatriots.

"Happy Good Friday, Esther."

She looked up and smiled at her neighbor, Alice, who'd spoken to her from behind a privacy fence. The woman was painfully shy, but she'd been friendly enough to Esther, even though Esther had been honest with her about her situation from the very first day. "Hey Alice! Thanks. Are you going to any parties?"

"No. How about you?"

Esther shook her head. "I'll be going in to pack as soon as the fireworks are over."

Alice's smile drooped. "Oh. Yeah. I'd forgotten. I'm sorry."

Esther shrugged. "Thanks."

"Maybe they'll put you here again."

Esther shook her head. "I gave up hoping for that a couple of years back. I'm afraid the judges get too much pleasure from jerking me around."

Alice frowned. "I don't get it. Your situation is rare. I don't know why they wouldn't work a little harder to help you. It's not fair."

Esther smiled. "Thanks, Alice. I appreciate your support. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

"Whatever happens, take care of yourself, Esther."

"I will. You, too."

Alice nodded and waved before turning away and disappearing behind her fence.

Esther smiled too. Because she hadn't been just making conversation. She fully intended to get control of her situation this time. She was done letting fate decide her future. She'd been bitch-slapped by that evil hag more than enough.

It was time for Esther to grab fate by the hair and send her packing.

She frowned, thinking of what was ahead of her. She'd thought she'd known what Hell was. But she hadn't realized that, for her at least, it meant reliving her death, over and over again.

Killed in a rockslide.

She shook her head, still not believing she'd died so stupidly. Esther had been active all her life. A true daredevil, she'd functioned under a continuous bucket list mentality. She'd jumped from airplanes, swum with sharks, traveled the Serengeti, and climbed the highest mountain peaks she could find.

She'd been caught in an avalanche in the Rocky Mountains.

She'd been badly stung by a jellyfish, and had come this close to being eaten by a lion.

None of that scared her as much as reliving her death -- and resurrection -- every year.

That first year she'd just stood there and watched the rocks bear down on her. The second year she hadn't acted quickly enough to escape dying again. But this time -- the third year of her resurrection -- Esther intended to take steps.

Then she thought of Luc. Sexy, wonderful Luc. She'd really only spent time with him when she was newly dead. Not the best time or place for building a relationship. But over the years they'd formed a certain kind of comfortable relationship built on silence and understanding.

He was mostly silent, and Esther understood he was going to be that way.

Only thing was, she thought of nothing else all year long. Even her ongoing and impending death didn't hold her thoughts as often as Luc did. She thought about the way his sexy, dark green gaze raked over her, touching her with heat, and the way his big, calloused hands pressured her so gently as he guided her toward the portal that would lead to her doom.

And the way he fought for her, every single year, trying to get the evil, nasty judges to give her a permanent place to return to every time. He'd nearly gotten himself thrown into the fiery pits on her behalf the previous year.

Esther thought that was the moment she'd started to fall in love with him. But something was holding him back. Something was keeping him from taking the next step with her. And Esther was tired of waiting.
So this year, when she faded away from Perdigo and landed in the road behind her car, Esther wasn't going to just stand there and let herself be crushed all over again. She was going to run. And if Luc wanted her badly enough, he would have to chase her. At the thought, she experienced a delightful little thrill.

Esther suddenly realized the hardest part of the whole thing would be resisting the overwhelming urge to let him catch her.

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DEVIL UNDER THE MISTLETOE by Sam Cheever

DEVIL UNDER THE MISTLETOE by Sam Cheever

Perdition guide Damian is supposed to escort sexy Amanda to Hell. But he’d much rather keep her.

Damian Noire is a Perdition Guide. He escorts people who die to their rightful spot in Hell. Business always seems to pick up around the Holidays and this Christmas is no exception. Damian’s assignment is to bring a beautiful young woman to Hell to stand before the judgment assembly, and then take her to her assigned circle of Hell. It sounds simple. But it’s about to become the hardest assignment he’s ever performed.

Amanda Wright might have been unjustly judged. She might not belong in Hell at all. Problem is, Damian really kind of likes her. He especially likes enjoying her lush, willing body under the mistletoe. If he gets her the judgment she truly deserves, he’s probably going to lose her forever. But if he doesn’t help her, an innocent may spend eternity in Hell. It appears to be a lose/lose situation on all fronts. Proving once again that holidays truly are hell!

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Holidays Are Hell: Devil Under the Mistletoe
Sam Cheever
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2012 Sam Cheever
This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

"Fuck you."

"Not today, demon. I'm off to get a Brazilian wax. Maybe next time."

"Real men don't wax their balls."

Don laughed, wiggling his fingers at Damian as he walked out into the broiling suns of Hell to start his post-holiday vacation.

Damian watched him go, feeling sour. He'd really been looking forward to some time off. The holidays were a busy time for the perdition guides. For some strange reason, more people died around the holidays, and about a third of them had to be dragged South to much warmer climes when they did. His only consolation was that the guys in white were even busier than the perdition guides.

As always, it sucked to be an Angel. Not only did they walk around with giant, metaphorical sticks up their asses, but they never got a vacay. At least Damian knew he'd finally get his time off once he finished whatever hellish task the assembly had lined up for him.

Walking against the tide, Damian glared at all his fellow guides as they headed out. They all gave him some version of the grief he'd gotten from Don. It wasn't exactly a compassionate group.

He walked through the black onyx, double doors and past the few guides and their clients still sitting in hard-backed wooden chairs. They were waiting for their time in front of the assembly, to learn which circle of Hell they'd be placed in for eternity.

Tears and glowers dominated on the pale, sometimes torn and blood-covered, faces waiting to be placed. Supplicants rarely liked waking up from death to discover they were being taken South rather than North. That was usually when your average damned soul embraced his or her inner politician.
Much to their chagrin, they quickly learned that lies and obfuscations didn't go quite as far in Hell as they did in Washington, DC.

Unlike Heaven, when a body was brought to Hell, the guide didn't waste any time making them look better. There was no point getting pretty and then heading into the fiery, monster-strewn environs of Hades.

Worm, the assembly clerk, scowled at him from across the room. The small, round man wore wire-rimmed glasses and stood in a haze of smoke that rose from the cigarette dangling between his lips. Worm didn't like when people entered the vault without checking in.

Waiting his turn, Damian ignored the clerk and stood impatiently to the side of the high, curved platform where the assembly judges looked down on the damned. One by one, the supplicants were dragged before the judges and their guides were carefully questioned about their lives. Then the judges briefly discussed the facts and decided where the supplicant belonged. Once it was decided, the guide stepped back, and the chief judge pointed his pitchfork at the damned. In a burst of light, the supplicant would be dropped into the fiery pits beneath the floor or transferred to his new home in an outer circle of Hell.

No muss, no fuss.

An hour later, the chief judge turned his red countenance toward Damian and inclined his head. The overhead light sparked against the razor-sharp tips of the judge's horns. When human mythology created its first representation of Satan, it had been an assembly judge they had depicted. Only the judges were squat and red with white horns and forked tails.

By contrast, the perdition guides looked like exceptionally attractive humans.

Damian moved to the spot at the center of the room where supplicants were meant to stand. He bowed slightly as five massive, red heads turned his way. The chief held his black pitchfork upright in one hand, leaning slightly against it as he peered down at Damian. "PD Damian, I trust you have come before this assembly ready and willing to perform your duties?"

Damian glared at the judge, knowing him well enough to understand the asshole was tweaking him. "Sir, I've never been more ready, and the only other time I've been this willing was when I had two supra demon females naked and writhing on the black sand beside the boiling sea. But of course that couldn't possibly compare to this."

The assembly chuckled darkly.

"I trust you don't intend to whip your dick out in this instance, however," the chief added with a wicked gleam.

"Not just yet, sir. Though I wouldn't get me too worked up if I were you, or I won't be responsible for the results."

More chuckling ensued. Damian stood waiting, trying not to show his impatience. Not because he thought he'd be punished for it, but because he knew the assembly would delay his departure all that much longer if they knew how much he wanted out of there.

"I'll bear that in mind." The chief looked down at the granite tablet before him, running a curved, yellow claw over the words inscribed there. "Woman kills spouse when he admits her ass does look fat in her new jeans. Oh, never mind, that was last night." The chief shook his head with disgust.
"Human males are so stupid. You never tell a woman she looks fat. Even I know that. Hmm, oh yes, here it is." He glanced up. "Your client's name is Amanda Wright. She made the list for killing someone while driving under the influence. Ms. Wright apparently ran over an old man with her car.

She'll be ready to pick up in about two minutes. You'll want to hurry. The white ones have instigated a quota system, and they're not above taking ours along with theirs just to fuck us up. We always get them back, of course, but it takes hours of bookwork to set things straight." He glared upward, his claws digging into the stone tablet with a grinding noise. "I'd like to twist those pearly sticks in their asses until they scream."

"Sir, when you talk like that it makes me want to reach for my dick." Damian grinned, giddy with his timeline. It would only take him a few minutes to grab the girl, drag her to the vault, and wait for the judges to proclaim. With any luck, he'd be on the beach within a couple of hours.

Grinning, the chief slammed the pitchfork into the ground to dismiss him. Damian turned away. He had about a minute to get up to the earthly plane. He started to run, barely holding back a joyful whistle as he went.

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