Demon Kissed - Katie May Page 0,108

his chin.

“You, Katrina, are our Center. Our fated mate,” he confesses after a long, long moment where I thought I was gonna combust.

“I can’t be!” I manage to say at last, shaking my head vehemently in denial. “I’m just…”

“You don’t have to be a demon,” Zolroth breaks in, sounding unbearably tired. “Though most Centers are the same species as their mates. I knew at the bowling alley, when I accidentally hurt myself. But I think a part of me suspected it was you from the start. I’ve never been as drawn to anyone in my life.”

“I’ve known since I got injured,” Akor pipes up, and Van nods in agreement.

“I suspected then as well,” he admits.

Slowly, all of the demons turn to look at Raz, who appears pained.

“And Razzy, here, knew from the get-go.” Akor’s voice is as dark as a moonless night, not a star in sight to break up the monotony. “Didn’t you? A murder’s leader always knows when they run into their Center. They can feel the connection.”

“Is that true?” I tremble wildly as I stare into Raz’s heartbreakingly beautiful eyes. “Did you know from the beginning?”

Raz heaves out another sigh before nodding stiffly, clenching and then unclenching his jaw. “Yes,” he grits out. “I knew.”

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell us?” Van hisses, and never in my life have I seen the lust demon so angry. Velvety black wings expand from his back as he glares at Raz, eyes shining red. “Why did you keep us guessing? If we would’ve known for sure—”

“You would’ve what? Killed her?” Raz snaps back, jumping to his feet and charging forward until he’s in Van’s face.

“Killed me?” I whisper in a small voice, and both demons immediately whip their heads in my direction. Panic starts to wrap around my heart like string, squeezing it tighter and tighter.

“No!” Van protests adamantly, shaking his head from side to side. “No, Kat. We would never hurt you.”

“But you would’ve,” Raz counters on a growl, “before you got to know her. You would’ve killed her just so we wouldn’t be vulnerable.”

Van doesn’t refute Raz’s claim, though his eyes do narrow into thin slits as he glares at his murder’s leader.

“Katrina, please.” Zolroth takes a step closer to me, his hand extended…the hand currently covered in Kastros’s blood. “You have to understand—”

“It’s my fault, isn’t it?” I whisper numbly, wrenching my gaze away from Zolroth’s and focusing on Kastros’s still form. The only reassurance I have that he’s still alive is the steady rise and fall of his chest. I have no doubt that he’ll survive…this time. But what about the next angel attack? Or the time after that? How many more of these can they survive?

I’m their Center.

I can’t even begin to wrap my head around the implications of that. Was I made specifically for them? Is that why I felt such a strong pull from the very first moment we met?

Hurt that they kept their suspicions from me, confusion over what exactly this means, and agony over what being their Center entails war within me. But one thing hasn’t changed with Raz’s dogmatic announcement—I refuse to be their downfall.

I refuse to make them vulnerable.

The knowledge of what I have to do sits on my chest like a three-hundred-pound weight. It doesn’t quite break my rib cage, but instead, makes breathing uncomfortable. Whenever I draw in a shaky breath, I’m unable to inhale or exhale.

“I need to leave,” I continue. “I need to leave and take Adam with me. You guys need to go too.”

“Kitty Kat!” Akor says immediately, but when he takes a step closer, I take an automatic one backwards.

“No, Akor. No.” Tears burn my retinas as I force myself to say what needs to be said. “Almost all of you have gotten hurt because of me. I make you vulnerable.” I lift my head to meet Zolroth’s piercing brown gaze. “You said it yourself that you wanted to kill your Center. In the kitchen after you were attacked. I heard you.”

It almost appears as if there are tears in his eyes as well. “That was before I knew you. Before I’ve come to—”

“I think I’m in love with you guys,” I blurt out, instantly wishing I could scoop the words up and shove them back into my mouth. But I can’t. Instead, they hover in the air like a poisonous gas as all of the guys blink at me rapidly, dozens and dozens of emotions emanating from their gazes.

“Katrina, please,” Raz begs,