Demon Kissed - Katie May Page 0,9

flits through my mind again, and I’m suddenly sad. So sad—for him, not me. He deserves to be taken care of… But these men drag me out of my thoughts.

“You summoned us,” the leader with the angel tattoo states in a tone that brooks no room for argument. “Last night. At your…Halloween party.” He makes a slight face, as if it pains him to speak of something as trivial as a high school party.

“What?” I gasp out, heart beating in tandem to my racing thoughts. Nausea swirls in my stomach, threatening to expel the meager contents from the night before.

The leader—let’s just call him Asshole for now—kneels down until he’s at eye level with me. His eyes are a light shade of blue, almost gray, like that moment before the sun fully breaches the tree boughs in the morning. It’s a surprisingly beautiful color for something so mundane. And then, the blue is swallowed by a red so bright and vibrant, it reminds me distinctly of staring into the twin abysses of Hell. I’m struck speechless, my mind whirling, as I stare into eyes that seem to embody evil. Pure, undiluted evil.

“What… How… Huh?” I manage to ask, rather articulately, if you ask me.

“We’re demons, sweetheart,” Van states indolently, crossing his tattooed arms over his chest where he now leans against the far wall. I have to crane my neck to the side to stare at the Vogue-worthy man, but when we make eye contact, he looks away immediately, lips compressed in a stubborn line. “And you summoned us.”

4

Holy mother of fuck! Is it possible to have a heart attack at eighteen? Because I’m pretty sure that’s what just happened.

“I’m stroking out. This is just a dream,” I mutter, tossing a hand over my heart in a futile effort to get it to stop trying to escape my chest.

Akor reaches back from where he’s perched at my feet and pinches my thigh, hard. I jump and squeal as he says, “No dream, Cherry.”

The man in the suit on the couch sighs. “Akor, knock it off. You’ll terrify her, and then we’ll never get this mission completed.” He stands, smoothing down his jacket and buttoning it before he strides over to me. He stands next to Asshole and extends a hand. “I’m Zolroth.”

I glance from his hand to him several times. Is he serious? I look at Asshole, who tilts his head and presses his lips together.

“Told you we shouldn’t have come here,” Asshole growls, crossing his arms so that his pecs pop and those ironic angel wings lift a little. I glance furtively at his eyes, which remain red.

I didn’t even see him slide in the colored contacts. Is he a magician? The Magical Murderers? Oh…all the television networks will fight to have their show.

“We’re not murderers,” Van calls out from his spot against the wall, where he perches with one leg up like he’s on some magazine shoot. “At least, not of humans. Though I do agree with you about the show. I’d watch the shit out of something like that.”

Wait. Did I say that out loud? My panic must have damaged my filter, just like with William. Fuck me. No. Don’t fuck me. No fucking. No fucking, and no murdering.

Van and Akor snicker, and I’m not sure if my random train of thought just now actually came out of my mouth. Possibly. Probably.

“Relax, we aren’t going to hurt you,” Zolroth speaks softly, as though I’m some cornered animal. Which I am.

Akor moves from near my feet and wanders into the kitchen. Without him right there, I feel a little more comfortable and confident. I consider taking Zolroth’s hand and shaking it, because he’s the only one offering me the tiniest sliver of hope that they are not about to cut me into a million pieces. But before I can, something comes flying right at my head.

“Think fast,” Akor shouts from the kitchen.

Zolroth saves my life by pulling me against his chest. Damn, that suit hides Marine-worthy muscles.

“Akor!” Zolroth and Asshole both shout.

“Let’s play the introduction game,” Akor says, lobbing another item—which I can now identify as an orange—in my direction.

This time, Asshole plucks it from the air.

“Thanks for volunteering, Raz,” Akor says with a grin, four more oranges held in his hands. “Now, peel that while you tell us all your darkest secrets.”

“Nope,” Raz replies, setting the orange down on the table.

Big mistake.

All four oranges smash into him at once. I don’t even know how that’s possible, but