Chapter 10
Lynx
Four fucking times I’ve materialized in front of her while patrolling the premises for any signs of demon activity or of a portal opening.
Each time I appear in front of her, she’s glared at me, scowled, and sometimes holds up her middle finger—I don’t understand what the gesture means, but if the hatred rolling off her is any indication, she’s telling me to go fuck myself.
Then the whole tedious cycle repeats.
She even tried to hide a laugh on my third attempt. I imagined strangling the shit out of her before returning to the backyard.
Trees span the right-hand side of the manor, and there’s a cliff on the other side that leads to a deep, dark tunnel of water—I had no idea there was a waterfall nearby until I got close.
I lean over the edge, feeling the vibrations of our link trying to yank me back before I retreat a few steps just as the thought of jumping crosses my mind.
What would happen?
Logic dictates I’d either die and return to Hell, or I’d lie helpless at the bottom with every bone broken, only the dead girl aware I’m even in this plane of existence.
My eyes crinkle at the corners as I weigh my options.
I’m not afraid of death. I’m not afraid of much since I’ve seen every possible sin and felt every possible form of torture. This is just pure curiosity—a fun little experiment. I have nothing better to do.
The second I lunge forward, everything warps around me, my lungs squeeze, and I go through the most uncomfortable materialization ever, dropping at the human’s feet as she stares at her corpse.
She scowls and drops her hand to her side. “This is getting old.”
I’m certain my lungs forgot to come with my body because I’m struggling to fill my body with oxygen. I cough, heave, choke, gag on nothing, then drop my forehead to the floor, waiting for the dizziness to vanish.
Fuck. Why was that one so intense? Why can’t I fucking breathe?
Pathetic.
I’m a torturer demon—even if that’s still classed as being at the bottom of the pyramid.
I’m on my knees and looking up at a goddamn ghost who resembles an angel.
The frown creasing her brows softens slightly when she sees my face. “What’s wrong with you?”
If I could use my words, I’d tell her to get fucked. She has no right to have any concern for me—I killed her. Took away her future and left her trapped in this goddamn house with me.
I glare at her hard enough that she retreats and shakes her head.
Good.
Sable shouldn’t be looking at me with an ounce of pity.
The way my own voice whispers her name in my head irks me. There will never be a moment in our lifetime when I tell her that her name is pretty, or that she is, or that I look at her a little longer than I should when she isn’t aware.
The more I explore this building, the more I feel like I may have been dead for a long time. So many things make no sense. Even the pictures hanging on the walls are colorful, vibrant—one is of two young children. A baby and a toddler. They have big bows on their heads and look ridiculous.
I pull one from the hook on the wall and blow the thin layer of dust from it. A family of four. They’re all smiling, the children still very young, and I frown as I stare at the picture quality. How long have I been in Hell? I wonder again.
I hang it back in its place, then put my hands in my pockets and walk into what I can only assume is an office—or maybe a library.
There are books everywhere. Some on shelves, some scattered on the floor.
I pause when I see Sable’s back. She’s leaning over a desk, her hand on the side of her head.
My traitorous eyes study her. From the top of her head to her feet, my attention lingering on her ass.
I gulp and step closer, until I can see her from the side. Her plump bottom lip is caught between her teeth as her gaze flicks across the pages of a book.
Fuck.
Sable gasps and straightens. “What do you want?”
The book I grab from the fireplace and throw flies through her head.
She spins round with a scowl. “Don’t you have something better to do?”
“Nope. I’m tethered to your spirit thanks to your incompetence.”
Her stare burns holes through my face as a second book soars through her chest. “Stop that.”
“Make me.”
If she could kill me with one look, it would be the one she’s giving me now.
Kind of hot. Kind of.
Her hands fist at her sides as she spins on her heels and tries to storm away from me.
“Sable,” I say. “Stop.”
Like the good little dead girl she is, she stops, pauses, takes a deep, calming breath, then glares at me over her shoulder.
The “good dead girl” title lasts all of three seconds before she lunges for a nearby candleholder. Her hand swipes right through it. The fact that she thought she could hit me back is hilari—
A book smacks into my chest with enough force to wind me.
We both freeze, staring at each other, then the corner of her lips curl before she grabs another book from the shelf and launches it at me. I dodge—but not quick enough to avoid the candleholder that collides with my face.
Right under my goddamn eye.
I swipe my cheek to find a smear of red covering my thumb and tut. The dead girl drew blood.
A maniacal laugh bubbles from my chest. “This is the part where you run.”
The way she tips her head back in defiance has my heart pounding—that isn’t a look of terror. She’s not afraid of me. She doesn’t run. But she should.
Sable fighting back shouldn’t inspire images of me fucking her into a shallow grave, but my psyche has a mind of its own where she’s involved.
I wonder what she’d feel like? I bet she’d have a pretty pussy to match that face of hers. It’s been a while since I’ve even had a release, but I think I might kill her again before I’ve even come—feel that tight cunt spasm right before she comes back to life.
The thoughts in my head need to fuck off right now because this crazy, rabid animal has another book in her hand. Maybe what she needs is a good fuck to get rid of her aggressive attitude.
My eyes narrow. “Throw that again and I’ll—”
The little shit hits my shoulder with it, then finally decides it’s a good idea to turn and run.
Cracking my neck from side to side, I give her a minute head start. I can hear her harsh breaths but not her footsteps. I’ll find her within seconds.
I make my way into the main foyer, listening for her breathing, smiling to myself when I hear her let out a “fuck” before appearing at the top of the grand staircase.
With a kitchen knife in her hand.
Cute.
Not that it would do much to me. Presumably.
I silently use our bond to materialize behind her, grinning at the way she stiffens. My gaze drops to her boots, then runs up the back of her thighs to that round ass that’d look better bent over, then to the back of her head.
She smells good for a dead thing.
Her elbow whacks into my nose, the speed of her body twisting forcing me back a step. That would’ve hurt if I were human.
Even with a touch of fear in her eyes, she folds her arms. “You deserved it. I’m not sorry.”
I hum, low, my body fighting a war with itself when a spark of excitement hits me.
My eyes darken as I feel the temperature drop, and I watch her plump lips part.
Oh, she wants to play? Fine. We’ll play all night.
My mouth twists into a grin. “You will be.”
She goes to run, but I capture her sleeve, snatching her fist as she throws a solid punch that would’ve landed on my jaw.
I love that she’s fighting back.
Sweet-looking Sable has a temper. I groan in anticipation, letting go of her fist and grabbing the knee she’s aimed at my family jewels. The motion and awkward angle of her limbs against mine sends me tumbling forward, and I land right on top of her.
She yelps. I freeze.
Then we both hold our breaths as I look down at her, pupils blown, cheeks red.
Her breaths are shaky, and I’m not sure if it’s from the running or the fact that I’m nestled between her legs, her inner thighs pressed against my hips.
We fit perfectly together. Like I could lower my head and whisper how dead she is while I fuck her for the next hundred years we’re trapped in this house together.
If she wanted me to, I would screw her brains out every second of our imprisonment.
Annoyingly beautiful. Would this be my view if I fucked her? Would she enjoy it? Would she moan my name?
Wait. She doesn’t even know my name. That realization pisses me off for reasons I can’t explain.
Can she feel how hard I am? Fuck. I think she can.
I’m not full of shit, but I know I don’t have a regular-sized cock anymore.
Becoming a demon didn’t only modify my height and teeth and other body parts—I was also blessed with a goddamn hammer for a dick, as Tony likes to point out whenever he sees it in the communal showers.
After panting and staring at me longer than necessary, Sable’s gaze slowly lowers to where our bodies are connected, and her eyes widen.
Yep. She knows. And it’s completely my own fucking fault.
The little gasp that comes out of her has precum leaking from my dick.
I’d imagine that sound on repeat while I thrusted into her over and over and over again.
My gaze drops to her lips, slightly parted now, given her heavy breaths. They’d look good wrapped around me, tears in her eyes from choking, her fingers digging into my thighs while she sucks me dry.
More precum leaks from my throbbing head, soaking my briefs. The fucking thing has a mind of its own, begging to feel her.
I put minimal distance between us, straightening my arms so my dick stops trying to stab through her clothes and find out how warm she’d be. It’s an impulsive feeling.
I’m starved of touch, that’s all.
Her lips part further, her eyes locked on the tenting in my pants. But the shock and arousal vanish as soon as they flash across her face, replaced by a wretched fury that has its own addictive taste.
Then she plunges the knife into me.