Chapter 10
Dimitri collapses next to me, sweat dripping down his body.
My nose wrinkles, though I'm not much better.
Neither of us talk as we watch a lower-level demon run the gauntlet.
We usually don't have to participate in these things, but Triton thought it would be good for the younger ones to see us.
I didn't complain until he made us do it again and again.
“How's your witch?” he says finally, and I glare at him.
“Not mine. And keep you fucking voice down.” The last thing I need is someone overhearing and ratting me out to Ludo. I've been fudging my reports, making it seem like I'm going topside for other things. Admitting I've been summoned by Clara half a dozen times isn't something I want to do.
Dimitri rolls his eyes and swipes a hand over his face. “So?”
“Haven't seen her.”
An image of her the last time I did pops into my mind.
I grit my teeth and shove it away. It's not like I was there very long while she played with herself.
Long enough for the picture to implant in my brain and replay while I slept.
I've woken up too many times with my cock in my hand while the echo of her moans rings in my ears.
It's too much and not enough. And definitely not something I should act on.
Waltzing into her house and fucking her how she deserves to be fucked should not be at the top of my fantasies.
She's a human. Not to mention a witch. The argument becomes flimsier the more I repeat it.
One of these days, it'll crumble entirely and nothing will stop me from showing up without being summoned.
“You piss her off? You know how volatile they can be.” He laughs as if he's dropped the funniest joke this century.
“She's not like that,” I mutter, immediately wishing I would have kept my mouth shut.
He turns wide eyes to me, a grin plastered on his face. “Oh, she's not? Well, I stand corrected. Perhaps we should have a little meet up and—”
“Don't even fucking think about it. Stay away from her. It's bad enough I'm going there. She doesn't need a whole host prancing through her fucking kitchen,” I growl.
He brings his hand to his chest and gasps. “I do not prance. I am as graceful as a—”
“Dimitri,” Triton bellows. “Get over here and demonstrate how to not get sawed in half.”
He jumps to his feet and rushes over. Triton motions for me to follow, and I chuckle under my breath.
He scowls before turning his attention to Dimitri.
My friend can't say no. It's bred into him to follow orders.
I don't know what went wrong with me, but I never had issues making my own decisions.
It caused a lot of problems when I was younger.
I've been around long enough now, no one fucks with me.
Except Clara.
I shake my head and push to my feet. Dimitri scowls at me again, then flips me off.
I return the gesture before making my way through the keep.
I could portal my way to my bedroom, but the walk will do me good.
At least, I'm hoping it will. The more time I spend alone in my bed, the harder it is to push Clara from my mind.
Even after a month in Hell, I'm still thinking about her. She hasn't summoned me and it's starting to grate on me. Some humans have reservations about sex. Witches are usually more open about bedroom activities.
I probably should have left when I noticed what she was doing.
Her embarrassment has clearly derailed our short-lived relationship.
Not that we were linked like that. I'm merely a demon she summoned to open a fucking jar for her.
We're not connected beyond that. The thread tying us together must be linked to the summoning and nothing more.
Except that night with the desk. She didn't ask me to put it together. At the time, I hid behind the want to skip out on a meeting. It was more than that, though. Admitting it to Clara wasn't an option. I have no idea what she'd do with the information.
If I told her I was bored and I actually liked being there, she'd…
probably do nothing. I convinced myself she'd mock me, but that's not like her.
She might give me shit about it, just like Dimitri would.
Taunting me wouldn't be her style. I couldn't bring myself to say anything.
So, I cited paperwork and a meeting. And then I put together her desk without her asking.
In fact, she told me I didn't have to. I'm loath to admit it, but that night was relaxing—fun.
And then I fucked it all up the next morning.
I don't blame her for not summoning me again.
I could check on her—make sure she's okay.
Except I shouldn't care. I don't care. I'm just pissed I don't have a place to hide out any longer.
She was a small blip in my very long existence.
She'll fade into the ether of my memories before long.
Turns out, I'm really good at lying to myself.
There's a tug in my navel and I groan. Merely thinking about Clara wouldn't summon me.
If that were the case, I'd be over there every half hour—maybe less.
Yet here I am, being yanked through dimensions.
I close my eyes, muttering under my breath all the things I can't tell her.
I need to get it out of my system before I get to her house.
I grit my teeth as I drop into the summoning circle.
Despite my weeks away, the chalk lines are fresh and my heart clenches.
Maybe it's only been a few hours here. Fuck, I hate this shit.
I rub my chest and hope the feeling goes away.
My life is in enough upheaval without adding heart palpitations to the mix.
Demons don't even get sick. If I walk back into Hell complaining of chest pains, Dimitri's going to have a field day.
A shiver rolls through me as I step out of the circle and prowl through the now-familiar house.
A string of curses echoes through the living room, leading me toward her bedroom.
At least she's not touching herself this time.
I adjust myself as I walk down the hallway.
I won't be able to hide how hard I am, but she seems preoccupied.
I knock softly, then push the door open an inch. “Clara?”
She moans, yet there's no pleasure in it this time around. “I didn't even say your name.”
“Would you like me to go?” I grimace at my formal tone.
Why the fuck am I so nervous? I'm a fucking demon, not a novice.
I've taken out entire armies—men and demons alike.
My entire existence is predicated on being terrifying and confident.
Yet here I am, asking her whether or not she wants me to go.
She sounds sick, or hurt, and I can't bring myself to leave her like that unless she banishes me.
I wince when she moans again. “I'm coming in.”
“Don't bother,” she mutters, but I'm already shoving the door open.
She's curled in a ball on her side in the center of her bed.
Moonlight streams through her window, illuminating her flushed face.
A whimper escapes her and my feet move before I've convinced myself to interfere.
My knee hits the mattress and her body rolls toward me slightly.
Her arms tighten around her waist and she buries her face into the comforter.
“What's wrong?” I demand, brushing her dark hair away from her face. She's not sweating and she doesn't seem to have a fever.
“Nothing,” she gasps.
“The fuck it is. You're clearly in pain.” I slide my hand to her cheek and force her to look at me. “Was it Brandon? Did he fucking hurt you?”
She squints, then shakes her head. My shadows lash around me, coalescing into bands that reach for her.
I attempt to rein them in, but I'm too close to the edge.
They wrap around her, seeking to soothe her.
It won't work. Not with the scenarios rolling through my mind.
Whatever that fucker did, he'll pay. I should have dealt with him before.
I didn't think he'd have the balls to come back, especially after I threatened him.
I lean down and my lips brush her temple. “I'll be back.”
My nostrils flare as I straighten, not willing to admit why I did that. It wasn't a full on kiss, but it was enough. Clara's hand snaps out and her fingers grip my wrist. She's scowling at me again as if she'll be able to stop me through the power of her angst. The thought has me fighting a smirk.
“You will not go kill Brandon. It wasn't him. No one hurt me.”
“Why are you protecting him? He's just a human piece of—”
Her face screws up and she groans, her nails digging into my skin. “Not protecting. It's that time of the month.”
“What time? It's sunset right now.”
“Fucking A,” she breathes.
“Who's A? Is that who hurt—”
“No one's hurting me. Fuck me.”
“Doubt you'd want me to fuck you while you're writhing in pain.”
She rolls her eyes and lets go of me to flop onto her back.
She grimaces and pulls her knees up. My hand twitches by my side and I resist the urge to strip her down.
The sooner I find her wounds, the sooner I'll figure out what happened to her.
I might not be able to heal her, but I could take out whoever hurt her.
I'll make sure no one ever touches her again.
“Leave it to a demon to only have one thing on their mind.” Her lids droop over her tired eyes. “I'm on my period, Omen. No one hurt me other than my own fucking body. Now go away so I can die a slow death in peace.”
Shadowy tendrils weave through the air and settle over her hands pressed against her stomach.
I hate when they take on a life of their own, but I realize they're trying to soothe her in some way I can't understand.
Mostly because I have no idea what her period is.
If it's killing her, though, I need to fix it.
Which means taking her to Hell or bringing someone here who can deal with whatever's ravaging her body.
“You're not allowed to die, little witch.” I lean on the bed again, intent on picking her up when she bats my hands away.
“I'm not actually dying. I'm being dramatic. I'm on my period. I'll be fine by tomorrow. Maybe the next day.” She scowls at me, then rolls off the bed. She doubles over and groans. I clamber around the mattress, desperation gripping me as she straightens and presses her knuckles to her temples.
“I'm taking you to Hell,” I growl, reaching for her.
“Uh, the fuck you are,” she snaps. “Seriously, have you never seen a woman on her period?”
I drop my hands to my sides and tilt my head. “This happens to others?”
She huffs. “Yes. Anyone with a uterus. Wait, do you know what a uterus is?”
I scowl, crossing my arms over my chest. “Yes, I know female anatomy.”
“Well, then you should know…oh sweet goddess. Menses. Menstruating. The red wave. Aunt Flo. Period. They're all the same. Get it now?”
She stomps toward the bathroom and shuts the door behind her. It's not often I'm shocked. I thought I was immune to such things. At every turn, my little witch proves me wrong. It should be annoying.
If someone would have asked me weeks ago, I would have agreed how irritating it was to be summoned over and over again.
Looking back, it's exhilarating in a way I haven't felt in a long time.
Back when my existence was just beginning, I was enamored with finding the exciting parts—learning new things.
Clara summoning me brought back that feeling I'd lost centuries ago.
I'm not ready to let the emotion go yet.
Convincing myself this is a bad idea doesn't work.
I wrap my shadows around me and wink out of existence.
I don't know if it's the nervous energy or the fact I just came from Hell, but the journey back is quick and painless.
My head swims as the familiar obsidian walls rise around me.
My feet slam into the rock, and Dimitri stumbles back.
“Tell me everything you know about mensurating. Now.”