The demon grins, smiley as ever. "Eish's upstairs sleeping off the orgy. Crying shame you missed it—there were a few scroungy-looking demonesses hanging around who were so fucking pathetic and desperate for cock, they probably wouldn't even have turned down a hornless freak like you. 'Bout time you got your rocks off and stopped pining after the first bitch youever licked, anyway. Need I remind you, whoever that prisoner was, she's dead as a fucking doorknob now, buddy boy."
Yeah, yeah. So they keep telling me.
Doesn't mean I'll stop looking for her.
How could I? It feels like my whole life was just some pathetic, blood-soaked blur until the moments I spent in her presence. Those were the real deal. If it's the last fucking thing I do in this weird-ass mortal world, I'm going to find her again.
My mouthwatering shifter. All soft, sweet, and tasty. And fuckinghells, the way she smelled…
Demons can scent the essences of all other living beings, but they're especially drawn to the scent of what they callmerit.Basically means goodness. The less hellish the person, the better they smell. It's part of the reason demons are drawn to innocent, kind things—because that scent is indescribably addicting.
They say it's even better with a bit of fear or pain mixed in.
I have a weaker sense of smell than full-blown demons, but my head swims from just the memory of my sweet shifter's delicate, sweet aroma. Thanks to the fucking language barrier, I couldn't get to know her the way I wanted, but she must've been a damn good person to get a scent like that.
I wanted to fucking consume her.
At least I got to devour her sweet candy cunt. Licking and sucking and melting with pleasure over every one of those desperate sounds she made as her fierce heat made her desperate, until she was grinding against my face, gasping and gushing and?—
"So, you kill the last guy?"
I blink back to the present, realizing I'm standing at my aunt's nasty-ass kitchen sink with a growing semi in my jeans and water still dripping from my face. Mel's on the living room couch, not a fucking care in the world as he downs another fish taco to the deafening sound of the news.
"What?" I ask, still dazed from remembering some of the best moments of my life.
"You're covered in some other fucker's blood. Did ya kill him, or what?" Mel asks, giving me half his attention as he eyes the last fish taco.
"Nah, I don't get paid if I kill them." Found that out the hard way.
He snorts. "Killjoys."
"Tell me about it. When'll Eisha wake up?"
Mel shrugs, frowning over at me like I'm disturbing his five-star meal as he lights up a cigar that I’m pretty sure he pulled out from between the seat cushions. "How the hells am I supposed to know? What's up your ass that you've got to bother her about, anyway?"
"I wanna try blood scrying again."
The demon groans and throws some demonness's leftover bra at me.
"Oh, you've gotta be fucking kidding me! Listen. Mezzak?—"
"Finish my name, and I'll end your infernal lives," I warn.
I may not be a full-blooded demon, but demonology works perfectly fine on me. I can command infernal dark magic just like any other demon out there, but if someone learns and utters my full name, they could start all kinds of shit. Demons don't usually use each other's full names for that exact reason.
He scoffs, puffing out cigar smoke, and turns to face me better. "Whatever. Zak. Look, you're a young demon. You're living in the mortal world,notgetting hunted by the bounty hunters and the legacies and all those other shits who've been wiping our kind out for centuries. Look at you, covered in someone else's blood and getting paid for it! You're living the fuckingdream, all right? So just forget about that little tart that stole your balls, go get yourself laid, andstop fucking pining."
Fat chance of that when she's all I can think about.
It's been eight months since I was forced to fight alongside Amadeus's court, barely escaped the Nether with my singular non-infernal-mutt life, and went into hiding with my aunt until things settled down.
Eight months since I saw my shifter.
That's eight fucking months too long. If she survived the hellscape of that battle that ended the reign of Amadeus, she's in this world.
If she didn't survive, I'll claw my way out of the hells of the Beyond and find her in the next life. Simple as that.
"Maybe we should try soul scrying again instead," I decide aloud, kicking aside a glass bottle to grab a beer from the fridge.
