Demon Kissed - Katie May Page 0,110

we don’t need her protection. No, we just need her.

Katrina.

Even her name fills me up with blindingly bright light. I feel weightless, like my wings are propelling me miles above the earth and I’m gliding along with the wind currents. In only a few short weeks, she has consumed my every thought, my every decision, my entire fucking heart. And now, she bloody left.

My heart feels her loss so keenly, I’m surprised it’s not audibly weeping for her.

The others are moaning and bitching, but I much prefer to take the initiative to get what I want. And what I want is Katrina.

Pulling out my phone, I type in the website to the local florist and begin to look through the various flower arrangements. Twenty dozen red roses, perhaps? Delivered to her hotel room? I should easily be able to hack her credit card and see where she’s staying. That’s not an issue.

Maybe I could release a flock of white doves…

A tiny grin curls up my lips as I exit the floral shop website and pull up a local boutique. I visited it once before a couple weeks earlier, with every intention of surprising Katrina with a gorgeous, homemade dress. I went through her clothes on that very first night and wrote down all of her sizes. I’m sure I can make her a custom gown that fits her like a glove. Isn’t there a dance coming up soon?

The Nightmare Before Christmas thingy?

This time, my smile is broader, wider, practically cleaving my face in two.

I’ll win my girl back, there’s no doubt in my mind about that.

And hopefully, it’ll be in time for the winter dance.

Hmmm. I wonder if I can get a matching suit as well…

I’ll buy this entire bloody world if it means keeping her in my arms.

AKOR

On a scale of one to ten, how bad would it be if I kidnapped her, threw her in the back of my minivan, and locked her in my bedroom until the end of time? Asking for a friend, of course.

And that friend’s me.

There’s an emotion settling in the pit of my chest, one that I’ve never felt before.

It almost feels like…like my heart’s on fire. Like someone’s doused it in gasoline and lit a match and whoosh. Big flames.

But that’s assuming I have a heart, of course, instead of an endless pit of pain and despair.

You would think I would thrive on shit like this, being a pain demon and all, but it fucking sucks. This broken heart thing? Hate it. It kinda makes me want to slam my hand into my ribcage, grab my heart, and then crush it into a ball of fine dust particles. And then, just because I’m a vindictive son of a bitch, I’ll give my crushed heart to Katrina as a gift.

That’s assuming I don’t die from it, of course. But semantics, am I right?

I’m practically giddy as my mind runs through the various things I can do to win her back. Isn’t there a saying about the possibilities being endless?

Oh! Maybe I’ll turn William into a firework for her enjoyment! It’s totally possible. I just need a saw, a lighter, and explosives.

I know I’m feared by the other demons—even my own murder. They call me eccentric and crazy, lewd and irrational.

But they haven’t seen crazy yet. They’re going to. The entire fucking world will.

Because I’ll win Katrina back, even if I have to embrace my own insanity to do it.

VAN

I’ve watched a million women walk out the door over the centuries, and I’ve never even looked twice, not even to appreciate the sway of their asses as they left.

But this time, it’s different.

This time, I feel like all the color in the room leaves with her and I’m standing in this dull, black and white existence. This time, my tongue feels heavy and my knees feel leaden and I can’t move.

What is this feeling? What’s this dull thud in my chest that echoes like the cavity inside is empty?

I feel like sinking to the floor and never moving again. I feel like crawling under the covers and eating a box of chocolates. I feel like eating an entire pizza by myself and following it up with rocky road ice cream.

Oh my God.

I know what this is.

It’s heartache.

Katrina’s just broken my heart.

I thought that was impossible. I thought I’d never fall in love. Throughout my centuries of life, all of these other relationships have been meaningless. And I thought that was because love wasn’t real.