Demon Kissed - Katie May Page 0,7

fake leaves on a realistic-looking trunk. Mom is allergic to literally anything and everything that involves the outdoors. It’s why she never comes camping with us on our yearly camping trips. Come to think of it, Dad doesn’t usually go either. He always ends up canceling the night before with claims that he has an important client meeting.

And…

Why am I thinking about this?

Oh, God. I’m losing my mind.

This third male is thinner than the two on the couch, but unlike the other ones, he’s shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of low-hanging jeans. His blond hair is shorn short on both sides, meeting in the middle in a spiky, bright pink mohawk.

He’s also currently watering the plastic plant with a pot of coffee, a cheerful grin on his face as the brown liquid cascades over the edge of the pot.

Don’t panic, Katrina. Don’t. Fucking. Panic.

I’m panicking. I’m officially panicking. What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?

My eyes flit from crazy guy to a fourth man sifting through the mail we usually place on a side table. He grabs an envelope at random, reads the name with pursed lips, then tosses it to the side. This one appears older than the others by a few years, with light dirty blond hair and a neatly trimmed beard. The gray shirt he wears is low enough to see angel wings tattooed onto his chest.

Wasn’t there a fifth man? Where’s the fifth man?!?

But I can’t focus on that…or anything else, for that matter. I need to get Adam away from them, and fast.

“Adam.” I’m shaking like a leaf in the wind, my attention fixated on my younger brother. His head snaps up at the urgency in my voice, his lips curling downwards. “Adam, come here.” The rest of the men stare at me with varying degrees of amusement and annoyance, but I pay them no mind. “Adam!”

“But, my friends…” My little brother trails off with a petulant frown.

“Adam, come here.” I extend my hand and wait, terror coursing through me.

Please don’t hurt him. Please don’t hurt him. Please don’t hurt him.

Those words repeat in my head like a song, a mantra, a prayer.

My breath whooshes out of me in relief when a rather reluctant Adam jumps from the couch and hurries towards me.

“I want to play with my friends,” he exclaims indignantly, stomping his foot on the ground. I warily glance over his shoulder at the four guys still watching me intently. The pink-haired man grins slightly as he ventures a step closer, still holding the damn coffee pot like one would hold a knife.

“Adam, why don’t you go see if Mrs. Johnson is home?” I suggest gently, speaking of our gray-haired, stern-faced neighbor. As expected, Adam makes a face.

“Ew. She’s smelly.”

I have a tenuous hold on my patience. All I know for certain is that I need to get Adam away from these men.

“Now!” I rarely, if ever, raise my voice with him, but I can’t muster the strength to be upset when tears well in his eyes. Without another word, he storms out of the house, hopefully to Mrs. Johnson’s.

Leaving me alone with the terrifying men.

I know I should leave. I know I should get the fuck out of here, but I can’t risk leading them back to Adam. I need them to focus on me, only me, until my little brother is safe. Hopefully, he’ll tell Mrs. Johnson about the strange men in our house…and hopefully, the crazy old bat won’t write it off as a “high school orgy,” as she eloquently puts it. Because, yes, she has used those words before.

“Get the fuck out of my house,” I whisper, backing up a step. We have one landline phone in the living room, a few steps behind me on a decorative table. If I can just get to it…

Abruptly, the pink-haired man is standing in front of me, leaning down, his nose centimeters from my neck. He inhales deeply, body rumbling with a contented growl.

“She smells divine,” he states nonchalantly as I stagger back a step, tripping over the pleated edge of our living room rug and landing on my ass. Fear continues to pulse through me, a palpable entity.

“Take whatever you want. Just don’t hurt me.”

“Like…like cherries,” the crazy man continues. His boyish smile makes him look innocent, but his chiseled jawline and the manic gleam in his eyes contradicts the first impression. Goosebumps skitter up and down my spine as I duck my head,