Because I don’t yet know what I’ll do next—only that he’ll soon wish he hadn’t provoked me.
TWENTY-FIVE
He lounges back as if he’s a king on his throne, unbothered, watching me as though I’m already his. The sight of him tangled with them does something to me—something new, violent, and possessive. A dark, raw thing curls in my stomach, sinking its claws in deep. He knows. Of course he knows.
The air thickens until it’s almost liquid, heavy with tension and lust and something that sizzles under my skin like wildfire. The bond between us snaps taut; I feel it pulse with his arousal—or mine. Maybe both. I walk toward him slowly, heels striking the floor in measured clicks, my body humming with power. The two women barely glance up, drunk on him, oblivious to the predator approaching.
Deimos smirks, lazy and taunting, daring me to act. He thinks he’s in control. He isn’t.
I slip the black dress from my shoulders and let it slide down my body in a slow, deliberate fall until it pools at my feet. My heels follow, leaving me bare in the dim firelight. The heat between us spikes, crackling like embers catching wind. Even with two women draped over him, he’s looking only atme. Something flickers beneath his smugness—a quick flash of something unsettled—but it’s gone quickly.
I climb onto the bed and trail a single finger up his chest, my nail scraping lightly over his skin. His amusement flickers into hunger, territorial and volatile. Then I turn to her—the brunette grinding on his cock as though she belongs there, lips swollen, eyes cloudy with lust. She doesn’t see the danger. Not yet.
I lean close enough for my breath to tickle her lips. “You like the way he feels, don’t you, sweet girl?” I whisper.
She whimpers, nodding, her hands still roaming his chest. “Yes… he’s so big,” she sighs, eyes fluttering closed.
I nod, frowning, and curl my fingers under her chin until she meets my gaze. “Kiss me.”
She moans into my mouth, melting like butter. Women don’t take the way men do; they invite. For a moment I let her—let her sigh against my lips, let her tongue flick against mine—then I strike. A single clean swipe of my newly sharpened talons opens her throat.
She gasps, a wet, garbled sound as blood gushes down her chest. The spray hits my face, my tongue, and I taste it—metallic, sweet, dark. It should horrify me. It doesn’t. I lick my lips reflexively and moan.
Deimos laughs low and dark, licking a drop from his own lip, then shoves her body off the bed with effortless indifference. A dull thud marks her collapse. “Oh, that’s new,” he murmurs.
The other girl screams and bolts for the door—but Bastion is already there. She slams into his chest like a bird into glass. His hand closes around her throat and pins her to the wall. She trembles violently, tears streaming down her face. Good. She should be afraid.
I slide off the bed, bare skin slick with the first girl’s blood, and approach her slowly. She shakes her head frantically. “P-please?—”
“Shhh,” I murmur, stroking her tear-streaked cheek. Her shaking stops. Her breath slows. Her muscles soften under Bastion’s grip. My power seeps into her veins, flooding her mind with calm, obedience. The walls pulse. Candles flare. The house responds to my hunger like a thing in heat.
Her eyes glaze over. She stops struggling. Then she kisses me. I let her press her lips to mine, let her whimper against my mouth. Women are soft. Sweet. And I like it. Maybe I want to play with a woman more. Maybe. But not this one. Not a pathetic little thing who thought she could touch what belongs to me.
I slide my hand between her thighs, feel the heat and slickness, and smile against her lips. “Shhh,” I whisper again, fingering her slowly. Her whimper is breathy, desperate; she still doesn’t realize she’s already dead. Her body arches into my touch, a moan slipping free as she comes undone?—
And that’s when I pull. Not just her pleasure. Not just her orgasm. Everything.
I drink her in, feel her unravel beneath my fingers, her life bleeding out in pulses that mirror the clench of her cunt. She shudders violently, and I moan with her, pleasure crashing through me like lightning. It’s beautiful. Sick. Addictive.
Then she goes still. Her skin turns gray, her body hollowing, shriveling like fruit left in the sun. When I release her, she crumples to the floor. Empty. Drained. Gone.
I exhale and lick my lips. Her flavor lingers. I should feel shame. I feel power. The house falls quiet except for the distant hum of magic radiating from me. Even the shadows seem to hold their breath.
Deimos watches me, expression unreadable. Bastion grins. “Fuck, that was hot, Hellcat.”
I smile at him before turning to Deimos. He’s already on his feet, cock still hard, approaching. Before I can speak his hand wraps around my throat and shoves me against the wall.
I laugh.
“You made a mess of my bed.” His voice is a low growl, amusement glinting beneath it.
I pout. “They touched what was mine. I couldn’t control myself. It was the she-demon inside me.”
His grin is wicked. “You knew exactly what you were doing.” His cock presses against me, his body hot and demanding. He drags his tongue along my cheek, tasting the blood splattered there.
“I don’t know whether to fuck you or kill you and be done with it.”
I hum, tilting my head. “You don’t want to kill me. You want to keep me.”
