Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
John prowls into the room, his face a mask of violence as he takes in the seated males. His broad shoulders and rippling torso are highlighted by his tight black fatigues and the sun shining through the windows. My heart misses a beat.
“Gentlemen, this meeting is over,” he snarls.
Oh, thank God.
My clamped-up fingers let go of my jumper, and shivers of relief and apprehension work up my spine.
Huh, relief?
I don’t understand why the hellhound’s presence makes me feel relieved. With everyone’s eyes on him, I break my rigid, controlled stance and tug at my hair in exasperation.
He didn’t hurt me intentionally. I remember the flash of horror in his eyes when he found out I couldn’t heal…and he has taken care of me since then. I groan.
God, I’m an idiot. Am I really trying to stupidly convince myself that this is a timely rescue? Do I expect him to protect me? Defend me? Ha.
I let go of my hair as I shake my head. Am I enamoured by the hellhound?
I’d like to at least say my apprehension is from sheer terror…but there is a sick part of me that inappropriately reacts to the low, sultry timbre of his voice.
Oh bloody hell. I blow out a breath. Come on, Emma, you are being ridiculous. It is one thing to be attracted to bad boys—something I usually don’t suffer from. It’s another thing to be attracted to bad men. John Hesketh is a really, really bad man.
At this moment, I need to be honest with myself. No one—no one has made me feel as self-aware as John.
It is like I am cursed.
I swallow and rub my chest. What does that say about me? I know—crap, I know that isn’t healthy and I don’t understand it. It’s wrong. The direction of my thoughts where the hellhound is concerned is wrong on so many levels. What a dickhead I am. It is gross, how gorgeous he is.
I look heavenward for patience.
John glares at the shifter. “I’m too old a wolf to be fucked by a kitten.” He nods at the exit. “Out.” Without further ado, the elf and cat shifter quickly exit the room.
Pure indignation crosses the still-seated vampire’s face. “Why?” he whines. “I want to play with the girl. Aren’t we going to see her scars?”
“Out!” John roars.
I hunch in response and squeeze my legs together. I have a sudden urge to go to the bathroom.
The vampire giggles. As he rises from his chair, he snarls, “Arlo, you’ve disappointed me.
I always expect lots of fun in your presence.
Get rid of the killjoy hellhound and next time, I will arrange the entertainment.
” As he saunters out of the room, he adjusts his lace sleeves.
On the way past my shaking form, he gives me a devious smile.
“See you soon, pretty broken girl.” The door clicks shut.
The silence in the room is deafening as the hellhound and the demon take each other’s measure.
“Let’s not lie to one another—we are beyond that now. You and I are evil men.” As John speaks, he runs his thumb across his lower lip. It’s unsettlingly sexy.
Quit it, Emma.
Lording it on his fancy chair, Arlo lifts his chin in response to John’s words and pouts prettily.
“John, John, John, you come into my territory, into my home without invitation.” He leans forward.
“You dare to embarrass me in front of my guests? You dare to threaten me? Me? Shifter, you’ve gone too far.
” Between one breath and the next, the demon drops his pretty facade. His eyes slowly bleed black.
I shiver. I hate it when he does that. Like rain, the blackness drips down until it covers his eyes entirely with endless darkness.
He flashes huge fangs, and his black eyes glitter.
Tilting his head, he leans back in his throne-like chair, and ever so slowly, Arlo claps his hands. “Bravo on your impudence.”
In response, John’s whole face lights up with a smile. A creepy, familiar, predator smile. “You owe me, demon. Perhaps you are stronger? Perhaps I am…” His eyes glow orange.
Oh crap, bloody hell, this isn’t good. My heart hammers in my chest, and as no one is watching me, I take a wobbly step back towards the door. I think I need a nap.
John holds out his hand, and a bright-blue flame appears on his palm. The flame hypnotically dances. I tilt my head to the side, and my mouth pops open. Oh. That is the famous hellhound magic. Huh. I wonder if Riddick can do that.
My eyes flick around the room at all the flammable books. I rub the back of my neck. Oh heck, only that hellhound would have this showdown in the library. Oi hellhound, put the flame away.
I take another shuffling step back towards the door. Each tiny step back is, I hope, unnoticeable with the ongoing drama in the room.
“Your pathetic flame will not work on me, hellhound,” Arlo scoffs. “I’m Demon. We are born within the flames. They nourish us. Please, John, lend me your strength.” He opens his arms and curls his fingers in invitation. John raises an eyebrow. “Come, boy, you are out of your league.”
With the misdirection of the flame, neither the demon nor I notice the knife in John’s other hand.
That is, until he throws it with impossible force.
It flies across the room. The weapon spins end over end through the air, and with a meaty thunk, it buries itself in Arlo’s shoulder, pinning him like a pretty butterfly to his fancy chair. I blink.
The demon makes a startled noise, and before he can grab the handle, another knife flies, hitting his other shoulder, thunk. John’s colossal form prowls forward. I take another few steps back. His head snaps towards me. “Stay,” he says in a deadly whisper.
My feet freeze. “Okay, no problem. I will stay right here, on this spot,” I mumble, pointing to my feet, and then I throw him a thumbs-up.
Beside me, Eleanor lets out an exasperated sigh. Unconcerned with me and without further acknowledgement, John continues his almost leisurely prowl towards the pinned demon.
Arlo laughs. “You’ve been playing warrior for too long, boy.
I’m older than time itself, older than this world.
Which incompetent idiot told you that these demon blades would influence me?
Mhm. Sadly, you have been misinformed. The symbols carved into these blades are useless.
I will still be wreaking havoc when this planet is dust. You are useless, pathetic.
Spending all your time protecting this world, yet you couldn’t protect your pack.
” Arlo laughs mockingly. “Taking them was shamefully easy. You think these knives can hold me?” In answer, John slams another blade into the demon’s left wrist, then another into his right.
Another knife in the thigh, then another, until the demon can’t move an inch.
With each new blade, the demon laughs malevolently.
My whole body shudders. In my desperation, my eyes search out Eleanor for reassurance. The elf is no longer by my side. Instead, she is crouching over the sizeable oriental rug in the centre of the room. With a flurry, Eleanor flips the rug several times, revealing a circle.
A familiar circle.
My legs buckle, and I plop to the floor on my bum. My stomach screams in pain, but all I can do is stare at the circle in horror.
Oh my God.
Desperately I search for something else to look at rather than the ominous circle.
I turn my head and instantly regret it as I watch in shock and growing horror as John grips the back of the demon’s chair and drags it and its pinned passenger across the library floor.
The loaded chair’s legs scrape thick gouges into the once-beautiful parquet, and in the demon’s wake, dark-green blood drips and smears onto the wooden floor.
Arlo’s laughter dies when he sees his destination.
The circle.
He starts to struggle in earnest. He looks so angry, so vengeful, but behind those emotions, I see fear and panic.
I hug my knees to my chest. As he struggles, clumps of gelled hair fall into his eyes.
With his eyes full of hair and darkness, Arlo has never looked more human.
A sob chokes out of me, and my hand flies to my mouth.
My unashamed tears fall.
He’s all I’ve known since I was five years old. The demon ruled my life, but he never truly hurt me. He has always treated me with an odd fairness. All I had to do was follow his rules. Rules that I broke…did I set all this into motion?
Arlo showed me no love, but…but now do I have to watch while the hellhound destroys him? Oh God, I don’t know if I can.
John lifts the chair and Arlo over the lines of the circle, I assume to make sure he doesn’t damage them.
The chair hits the floor with a wobble and as soon as it settles, the circle flashes a bright-white blinding light.
I slam my eyes closed. The bright light seers the back of my eyelids.
I blink to clear my vision. The symbols on the floor glow and hum.
I can sense the circle’s power from where I am sitting, and it makes the hairs on my arms stand up. I run my tongue over my teeth…my teeth ache.
My eyes fly to Arlo and I watch in horror as his face morphs…
it bubbles. I can see the bones moving as his face rearranges itself into something nightmarish.
Gone is the ostentatious pout. He looks more like the pictures in the old books that depict demons.
Gone is the pretty face that I have known for seventeen years, and in its place is something other.
“I will make restitution. You can have the girl,” the demon screams. More of his blood splatters to the floor. Me? He is offering me?
“She is worthless. You were going to sell her. What would I want with the girl?”
“That was a bit of fun at her expense. I saw your guilt…you want her for yourself.” The shape of his mouth has changed, so Arlo’s voice is rough, guttural.
Are they talking about me?
“Guilt? What you saw was what I wanted you to see. There is no guilt, demon. Just this.” John shakes his head and smiles mercilessly.
I rub my chest, God, I’m so stupid.