Demon Kissed - Katie May Page 0,39

little brother grabs his large hand in his tiny one. The mere difference in size astounds me and only ratchets up my fear. Kastros could quite literally wrap one of his giant paws around Adam’s neck and end his life.

Am I hyperventilating?

I’m totally hyperventilating.

“Raz! Come with us!” Adam turns pleading, Bambi eyes onto a still scowling Raz.

“I don’t think…” He anxiously flicks his gaze from me to Van, who is still sprawled out, surfing the channels.

“Please?” My little brother pushes out his lower lip as he places his hands together in the universal prayer position. I can still see indecision on Raz’s face, but after a moment, he sighs and walks over to take Adam’s proffered hand.

“Fine. But only for a little bit!”

All I can do is watch them go, feeling as if I’ve been run over repeatedly by a semi. My brain short-circuits as I lift my hands, wanting desperately to grab Adam and crush him to me.

“They won’t hurt him,” Van grumbles from his spot on the couch.

“What?” I whisper meekly, still trying to decide if it’s worth getting into a fight with the demons to get my brother away from them. They seem to be pretty attached to their balls. Maybe if I kick them there?

“We’re not psychopaths,” Van continues on a grunt. And then he smiles, as sharp as a razor blade. “At least, not to kids.”

Adam’s enthusiastic laugh drifts to us from upstairs, and that noise soothes something jagged and bent inside of me. Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m walking on mechanical legs towards Van and plopping down beside him on the opposite end of the couch. He eyes me with distaste before heaving out a sigh and focusing back on the television.

“What are…” I clear my throat. “What are you going to watch?”

“Dunno yet,” he mumbles, his way-too-pretty face twisted into something that’s half a scowl and half a pout. He pauses momentarily on She’s the Man, a movie about a girl who pretends to be her brother so she can play soccer on this elite school team. He nibbles on his lower lip as his eyes glimmer with mirth. That expression disappears immediately when he glances at me out of the corner of his eye.

Hurriedly, he switches it to some stupid golf tournament where a monotone announcer drawls on and on about absolutely nothing.

“We can watch the other movie,” I murmur awkwardly, shifting on the couch. I always thought this sofa was painfully uncomfortable. My parents definitely chose style over comfort when they picked this out.

“What?” Van snaps, whipping his head around to face me. I momentarily lose my capability of speech, my labored breathing coming out waaaay too fast for my lungs to handle. Why does he have to be so beautiful? Why does he have to resemble a mosaic you would see on a church’s wall, like an angel personified? But this angel is weeping death and destruction, the darkness he exudes an almost palpable entity that coats my skin like a sticky tar.

“We can watch She’s the Man if you want,” I offer tentatively. It’s an olive branch; hopefully, it’ll last long enough to spare my life. It’s dangling in front of his face, and it’s his choice whether he takes it or stomps on it. “I like that movie,” I add, in case he needs an excuse to pick it.

He stares at me as though he’s weighing whether I’m serious or not. But I wouldn’t make fun of him. I know the first time he showed up in my house and confessed his love of rom-coms, he was embarrassed. But I’m not trying to get one over on him. I honestly like them too.

After a moment, he nods once.

“I suppose we can watch a chick flick,” he grumbles, but there’s a slight smile on his lips that wasn’t there prior.

As the movie plays on, that timid grin blossoms into a full-blown smile as he laughs at the ridiculous romantic comedy. At one point, Van leaves the room, only to reappear with a tub of popcorn.

“How can they not tell she’s a girl?” he gripes, tossing a popcorn kernel at the television.

“Right? She’s too gorgeous to be a guy.”

“Guys can be gorgeous too,” he quips immediately, and my cheeks flush when I think, Yes. You’re living proof of that.

But obviously, I don’t say that out loud.

That would be weird.

“Fuck, I love this movie.” Van leans forward so his arms are dangling off his knees. “Have you watched Bridesmaids