Demon Kissed - Katie May Page 0,42

before, so for a second, I feel awkward and nervous and worried that he might get the wrong idea. But then I see his face.

The solitary tear has transformed into tear tracks. Droplets race down Akor’s cheeks.

I don’t know what happened tonight. I don’t know who hurt him or why. I don’t know how. I just know I’m desperate not to see him look so sad.

I wrap my arms around his waist and hug him tight, pouring all my empathy into that hug. “It’s going to be alright. I’ll make it better.”

I feel Akor’s warm arms surround me, along with a musky, earthy scent that’s almost like patchouli but not. It smells good.

“I didn’t even get to kill the footsie guy.” Akor’s voice is husky and full of regret.

“Hey, you don’t need to kill the footsie guy,” I tell him, half alarmed he’s upset about this and half concerned that he still wants to kill Wade.

“He violated you,” Akor growls.

“He stomped my foot. It’s a thing we do. We call it Pain and Gain.”

“What?” Akor’s finger slides under my chin, and he lifts my face gently until our eyes meet.

“You know the saying…‘no pain, no gain?’ Well, if we get a question wrong, we kick each other. Saying it out loud, I realize how stupid that sounds. But it actually works.”

For a second, I swear I can see white, delicate horns glittering on the sides of Akor’s temples. They aren’t normal horns, if you count the human artwork through the centuries as normal. They have crazy branches in every direction, and every tip looks sharp enough to carve out a heart. But they’re also incredibly beautiful.

When Akor realizes I’m staring at them, they disappear from sight with a little pop.

“Sorry. You made me horny.” Akor grins and swivels his hips into mine, then laughs outrageously when I scramble backwards and fall off the couch onto my ass.

“Dick!” I accuse, half-joking.

Akor sits up with a groan, and I realize that the wound on his chest has soaked his shirt. “Shit! I should have gotten you a Band-Aid already. I’ll be right back!”

I run for the stairs, because for some dumb reason, we keep all the Band-Aids and wound cream in the upstairs bathroom instead of the powder room off the living room. It makes so much sense, because Adam needs lots of Band-Aids when he plays Legos and none at all when he plays outside.

I squat down and grab what I can, fist-pumping when I find a little square of gauze. Hands full, I head back down the stairs. But I pause halfway down when I hear the guys arguing.

I just bolted past them on the way up, but now, I can hear the angry pitch of their voices, even though they’re trying to use hushed tones.

“It better not be her!” Zolroth’s British accent can’t sound threatening, no matter how hard he tries.

“It’s not,” Raz growls.

Her? Who are they talking about? Did a female demon do this to them? Immediately, that thought sets off a bear trap inside my chest. It snaps shut with bone-crushing force.

I’ll kill her.

Whoa.

Back up. Rewind. I’m not killing anyone.

But there’s a part of me that’s breathing hard and taking practice jabs at the air. Seeing Akor cry… Whoever did this made a fucking demon cry! That’s a whole new level of evil.

Is there a level of evil worse than demons?

I halt my thoughts in order to listen and figure out who this mystery demon woman is.

I sit down on the stairs, suddenly grateful that my dad insisted on gaudy marble on the bannister and posts, because that makes me harder to see in the dark. I peer between the railings to watch Kastros sign at the other two.

“Don’t even go there! You stepped down, or you’d know!” Raz growls.

Zolroth’s bruised eyes narrow on Kastros’s huge form, and he crosses his arms. A gash in his lip weeps a little as he says, “Didn’t you get hurt around here? It was this town, right? She’s got to be here! She has to live here! Close by. Why the hell didn’t you find her and get rid of the problem?”

Kastros shakes his head without responding, glares at Raz, and then stomps out the front door without so much as a goodbye.

Zolroth’s eyes glow red, and for the first time, I see a scary demon rather than a posh, sophisticated man in his place. “He’s hiding something.”

“He doesn’t like feeling vulnerable. None of us do,” Raz says.

“Damn straight. You’d