Demon's Trust (The Chronicles of Arcayos #1) - Raven Dark Page 0,60

my pocket. If he thinks I’m going to spend the rest of my life playing housewife to a misogynistic demon, he’s got another thing coming.

I quickly check all the windows in the apartment, making sure they’re locked just like I always do before I leave for work. I still hate the way he can come and go from here any time he likes.

None of the windows are open, so he didn’t leave that way. He wouldn’t have wanted to go through the building looking like the Prince of Darkness, so did he just go through the Gate, or did he transform into the Blond Adonis and use the door like a normal person?

Mister is sprawled on the bed, so I pull him into my arms, cuddling him. Nothing better than snuggling with a big, fluffy kitty to make a girl feel better about her messed up love life. Especially when he hates the guy as much as I do right now.

My thoughts race. How the hell can I be his mate? I still can’t get over how much that demon has upended my life. And tomorrow it’s only going to get worse.

Tomorrow. I stroke Mister’s fur, my hand trembling.

It’s just an interview. The captain might say no.

But he might say yes.

I bury my face in Mister’s fur. If we’re found out, it’s over. For both of us. I’ll lose everything.

I sniffle, setting Mister on the bed before I end up crying into his fur. Come on, Cass. Can’t fall apart now.

Hatred for Arcayos seethes, and I let it burn away the mind-numbing fear that’s trying to make a home in my chest. I’d throw something if it wouldn’t send Mister bolting.

“Behave yourself.” I give him a kiss on the top of his head and leave some tuna and fresh water for him in the kitchen.

I grab a silk scarf from my closet and wrap it around my neck, covering the bite mark, then jerk on my gloves. Fuck, between my neck and my wrists, I look like I just spent the night tied to a bed being fucked by a vicious animal. So much for my being the kickass cop. I scoff and throw on my leather jacket, pulling the sleeves down so that they cover the bruises. At least no one at work will see.

Back in the hall, I yank on my boots, lock up, and make my way to my car. His mate. My fist clenches around my keys.

It’s bad enough I have to put up with him working on my police force. I’m not quitting my job, no matter what he says.

I climb into the Junk Pile and slam the car door. Nearly every woman I know has ended up with a guy who’s tried to convince them to quit their job. I remember reading it in a magazine that something like eighty percent of women are talked into quitting their jobs by their husbands. We’re not even married yet, and he’s already trying to turn me into Suzy Homemaker.

I jerk the car out of the lot and head for downtown. Unease squirms in my gut the closer I get to the stationhouse. One mistake and it’s all over. The knot of anxiety remains there, chewing a hole through my insides for my whole shift.

After finishing with my last case for the day, I head out of the Core toward the East End. I glance at the address Arcayos gave me. Jesus, he lives in the worst part of town.

It’s close to seven when I cross the East End border. “Wow,” I mutter. “This place just gets worse every day.”

Run-down buildings and abandoned factories line every street, like something out of an apocalyptic movie. Every second building is closed or boarded up like it’s the end of days. The sun is still up, but smoke from the factories reduces the light to a weak, sallow haze. The familiar reek of weed, old grease, and smoke permeates everything, as if it’s seeping from the walls of every building.

How can Arcayos stand living here? I hate this part of Chance.

A block away from his place, I pull up at a stoplight alongside a dusty old two-story factory with boarded-up windows and wooden beams nailed across the door.

I swallow, rubbing at the tightness that forms in my chest. That’s Gary’s place. I’d forgotten what street it was on. Why did Arcayos have to live so close to here?

The building looks like it hasn’t been used in some time, yet I