Demon's Trust (The Chronicles of Arcayos #1) - Raven Dark Page 0,38

those things you complain about that go against your rules? Those are the things that bring in the money you keep coming to me for. Might be in your best interest to give me a blind eye every now and again.”

“I’m not letting you use me as an excuse to put humans in danger, Hagor. Willing sex between humans and demons I’ll let slide. But I won’t let your customers fuck with human will or risk their lives.”

He sighs and gets up from his chair. “How much do you need?”

I pat him on the back. “Attaboy.”

“Fuck you, Champion.”

Minutes later, I leave The Red Fox, duffel bag filled with bills in hand. It’s well after noon hour. I hail a cabbie and head for my apartment, my thoughts racing.

Why did Hazuldar have Cassidy’s sister kidnapped? And why is he after her?

Halfway to my apartment, the cabbie pulls up to a stoplight, across from a busy newsstand. I catch the headline on one of the propped-up newspapers.

“Pull over,” I order.

The cabbie glances back at me. “Everything okay, sir?”

“Pull over. Now.”

He pulls out of the traffic and stops at the curb.

“Wait here.” Grabbing my bag in case he decides to drive off, I climb out. At the stand, I snatch up the paper and hand the stunned newspaperman a twenty from the duffel. “Keep the change.”

Headed back to the cab, I stare at the front page. The headline stands out in bold black letters. “Serial Killer At Large: Three Men Brutally Slain.”

“Damn it.” I climb into the cab, my stomach contracting.

Phrases jump out at me from the article. Identical to the 1986 murders in Wolfhead Creek, and targeting criminals. And further down, killer dubbed The Hooded Swordsman, and vigilante terrorizing Chance.

And halfway down the page... “Sources say he wears a cloak and a mask to hide his face.”

A composite sketch takes up half the page, showing a hooded figure in a cloak, face marred with cracked skin.

Garl. It had to have been the demon. And now everyone in Chance has seen my face.

My fists clench around the thick newspaper, twisting it until it tears in half.

8

A Deal with A Demon

Holy fucking hell, I’m horny.

I let myself into my apartment, locking the door with shaking fingers. Sweat slicks my face. I slump against the door and wipe my brow, heart pumping fast. My clit is throbbing, my nipples jabbing at my shirt.

It’s Arcayos. He’s done something to me. Maybe it was the kiss, or maybe it was just being near him all night, but he is a demon, so I wouldn’t put it past him to use some sort of hoodoo to get me hot for him.

I toss my keys on the table by the door, along with the newspaper I’d bought after leaving work. A composite sketch of a figure with cracks in his face and a hood stares up at me from the front page.

How had there been a witness last night without my noticing? On the bright side, the witness seems to think Arcayos’ face is a mask. Now all of Chance knows what he looks like. Unwilling worry for him stabs at me. So much for keeping a low profile.

I jerk off my boots and toss them at the door. They hit with satisfying thuds. At least the witness didn’t mention me.

Lying to Colburn. My gut clenches.

Hatred for Arcayos boils in my blood. Too bad it doesn’t do anything to calm my raging libido. My core aches, begging for attention. My nipples are as hard as diamonds.

I march down the hall to my bedroom. There is no way I would want him if he wasn’t using demon magic on me. That’s the only explanation for why I’m off the charts good to go for a trip to fucking Pound Town.

I take off my badge and gun, leaving them in my nightstand. No matter how desperate I am to get off, I won’t leave my gun just lying around.

Always be safe, friends.

By the time I get to the bathroom and strip off my pants and shirt, I’m almost panting with lust.

Good job I left the station when I did. Max had been the only one still in the bullpen when I got out of there. If I’d stayed any longer, I’d have ended up banging Max right on my desk, something he’s been trying to get me to do for years. I shudder.

I slip off my bra and panties, dropping the silky black, sweat-soaked lace to the floor. My whole body