Demon Kissed - Katie May Page 0,106

getting hurt. My insides war over keeping them for myself so that they can’t get hurt and letting them go because that’s the way it’s meant to be.

I don’t know if Arariel can sense my inner turmoil when she leans close and whispers in my ear, “Centers are actually the most hated beings in all creation. Imagine another person making you weak, susceptible to death. Most murders kill their Center the second they find them.”

I draw back in horror.

“They what?”

She gives a casual shrug as she drinks down more of her blood-red liquid. “We did. Our Center’s been dead for centuries.” She gives me a wink. “Why do you think we fell from Heaven?”

I lean back against the couch cushions, feeling young and small and shocked to my core.

So if I send my demons off to their mate, they’ll just kill her?

35

“Die, motherfucker!” I hiss through gritted teeth as I jerk the controller back, glaring at the television screen. Firing the shotgun Van procured for me at an abandoned cabin, I watch the zombie’s head explode like a watermelon at the end of a baseball bat. “Aww, shit,” I curse as a second zombie swipes at my character’s head. “Zolroth! I need health!”

Zolroth makes a noise on the couch beside me, too focused on the game to actually use his words.

A moment later, his avatar on the screen fixes me up, using the last of our combined heath supplies.

“You know,” Akor begins casually as his player fires off a huge bazooka at the rapidly approaching throng of zombies, “this is much more fun with real zombies. Did you know that in Hell, they have an abandoned ghost town filled with creatures like Jason? We could play this for real!” He’s practically bouncing on the edge of his seat as Zolroth throws a pillow in his direction.

“Shut the bloody fuck up, Akor, and take my rear,” he instructs, and of course, Akor waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“Why, you sly dog…”

Van chooses that moment to reappear, throwing himself over the back of the couch and resuming his seat beside me.

“Adam asleep?” I query as Van rejoins the game.

“Out like a light,” he answers, frowning when he sees how fucked we are. Seriously, there are zombies everywhere. I blame Akor for stupidly setting off the car alarm.

“And Kastros and Raz?” I press anxiously. The two of them were called away to go check out a flock of angels rumored to be in the vicinity. That was two fucking hours ago, and they still haven’t returned. To say I’m stressed would be an understatement. What if something’s happened to them? What if that bitch, their Center, was around? What if she caused them to get hurt? I’m quite certain I would string her up and gut her innards, fated mate or not.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. A little psycho-sounding, maybe, but I can’t find it within me to care. Maybe Akor is rubbing off on me. Or Arariel. Who knows? All I know is that it’s been two days since we got back from the tournament, and I have reconciled with the fact that Centers are not good for murders. I might have a slight, tiny, minuscule personal interest in their particular Center dying.

“They’re fine.” Van heaves out a heavy breath, his nose scrunching adorably as he focuses on the game. “Stop stressing, Katrina, or else your pretty pink hair will turn gray.”

I scowl and bring one hand up to my head instinctively.

“Yeah? Well, your face will turn wrinkly,” I snap back, because yeah, I’m just that smooth.

Van quirks one russet eyebrow, a witty retort no doubt on the tip of his tongue, but before he can speak, the door is kicked open and it smashes into the wall behind it with a thud. Raz staggers inside, Kastros’s bloody, unconscious form draped over his shoulder.

No. My heart hits the floor just as hard as the door hit the wall.

“Holy shit!” I jump to my feet instantly as Zolroth and Akor race forward, taking Kastros from Raz and setting him gently on the floor. Van remains by my side, one hand on my shoulder as if he means to protect me from whatever or whomever did this to them, or else to restrain me.

“What happened?” Zolroth’s accent is thicker than ever before as he hovers over his friend.

This close, I can see Kastros’s face is mottled with black and blue bruises, each one more pronounced than the last. Both of his eyes are almost completely swollen shut, and