Demon Kissed - Katie May Page 0,22

touch.

I go to our special spot, choosing to leave my backpack in the car. I shove my phone into my skirt pocket—the only saving grace of the atrocious uniforms—and lock the car. Quickly, I stride through the narrow path overrun by weeds.

It’s not overly chilly today; the light jacket I’m wearing is easily able to quell the cold. The trees are beginning to look skeletal, numerous piles of decaying brown leaves outlining the path.

When I arrive at the clearing, the water is glistening in the ambient sunlight like thousands of diamonds have been spread across the surface. It’s beautiful and tranquil, the exact opposite of my life.

With a huff, I drop myself onto the lone log, my feet hovering inches from the water.

How is this happening?

That one question plays on repeat in my head, but I don’t have an answer. It’s surreal to think that not only are demons real, but a group of them are stalking me. A legion? A guild? A flock? Fuck, I need to update myself on demon mythology. Is that something you can just google?

And then, the most important question, what am I going to do?

I’ve watched enough Supernatural episodes to know that demons can be exorcised. Do I contact a priest? Shoot them with salt bullets?

I huff out a dry, humorless laugh as I rub my hands on my skirt.

I’m being stalked by demons. Who would’ve thought?

“A penny for your thoughts?” Heart hammering a dangerous tune in my chest, I whirl on the intruder. Before I can respond—or, I dunno, scream—someone tosses a handful of pennies at my face.

“What the hell?” I jump to my feet, then frantically dislodge one of the copper pennies that has fallen down my bra.

Akor stands before me, his pink mohawk glinting in the late fall sun. He’s shirtless, his broad chest covered in tattoos, and wearing a pair of low-slung sweatpants.

“I never liked that phrase,” he muses as he stalks forward, every inch the languid house cat. “Why are we saying ‘what’ in correlation to ‘hell?’ Don’t we know what hell is? And why is it ‘the hell’ instead of just ‘hell?’ Shouldn’t it be ‘what hell?’ As in, ‘what fresh hell is this?’”

“What are you doing here?” I sputter, alarm coursing through me. “Were you following me?”

“Following. Stalking.” He lifts his hand as if he’s attempting to balance something in his palms. “Is there really a difference?” His mouth curls into a wide grin, and I have momentary flashes of Joker, Batman’s archnemesis. Is he that crazy?

I’m silent. I don’t know how to respond. Part of me is terrified, but another part of me lights up at the fact that he’s spent his morning secretly tracking me. Does that make me crazy too?

Akor dances forward on agile feet until he’s mere inches from my face. His warm breath—smelling distinctly like spearmint—assaults my senses.

“Do you want to play a game?” he asks, dangling a pair of dice in front of my face.

“How did you know I was here?” I demand, not allowing this topic to drop. I would’ve noticed if someone had followed me, wouldn’t I? The street was empty when I arrived, not a soul—or demon—in sight.

Akor shrugs his lithe shoulders, a mischievous smirk pulling up his lips. “Tracker,” he deadpans.

Tracker?!?!

What the fuck?

“Where?” I exclaim, rubbing at my arms. Did he inject something inside of me when I wasn’t looking? Oh, God. Do I have a bunch of nanobots running rampant through my bloodstream, set to explode at a moment’s notice?

“If I roll a six or lower between the two dice, I’ll leave you alone,” he continues, ignoring my outburst. “But if I get a seven or higher, we get to do what I want to do.” He laughs maniacally, the sound both simultaneously terrifying me and…arousing me, especially when he lifts his eyebrows and gives me a sultry look that just dares me. There’s something about Akor that innately demands my immediate attention, something dangerous and primal that calls to the darkest part of me.

“What if I refuse?” I cross my arms over my chest, refusing to be intimidated by this very tall, very sexy, very dangerous, and very, very crazy man. You know what? I totally should be intimidated. Maybe I’ll find the nearest corner and curl up in a fetal position.

Or maybe I’ll jump his naked body like a—

Down, girl. Down.

“If you refuse,” Akor’s breath stirs the hairs around my ear, “I’ll do it anyway.”

I don’t know what “it” he’s referring to. The gambling