Jealousy supplanted reason with raw revenge. I wanted to rip Adrial apart, to gore him with my horns as I wrap my tail around his throat and squeeze the life out of him. I wanted his hellfire to consume us both as I crush his host’s body.
Summer is mine.He should not have access to her during the day when I do not!
Thoughts of the demon possessing her body, touching her skin, and stealing her kisses twisted inside me. If he did not leave her alone, I vowed to bestow him with pain.
But along came another human, someone who calmed her and sent Adrial away.
Now Summer is quiet and thoughtful. She hums a sweet song, soothing my thoughts, reminding me that there is good in this world. Once again, we keep each other company in silence.
I crave the taste of peaches—fresh, ripe, and juicy.
Summer, oh, Summer…I replace every note in her hummed song with her name.
As dusk descends, a different type of life rips through me, liberating my limbs.Excitement.
The emotion floods me, and I take a deep breath, eager to smell her.
Instead of peaches, I get rot.
“He’s been here.” The words rip out of my throat. They come out angry.Betrayed.I squint at her. “Did he touch you?”
I cower over her, my wings arching. My gaze flicks across her body, and despite my raging jealousy—jealousy and excitement—I’m relieved she’s safe and uninjured. It’s a symphony of conflicting emotions.
“W-what? You changed—you changed so fast,” she squeaks, taking a shuddering breath, sliding away. “I didn’t expect… Who has been here?” she asks, straightening against the counter, letting her phone drop into her lap.
I glance around Hopkins’ Museum. We’re alone, despite Adrial’s permeating stench.
“Who’s been here?” She becomes bold, demanding even.
“My demon.”
I block her way as she tries to stand and restrain her against the counter. Her eyes widen, taking in my wings haloing above her.
“A d-demon? Your demon?” she chokes out. “The only ones here today were me, Dad, and Dr. Taylor. And a prospector from out of town, Adrien.”
“Adrien?” I snarl. “His name isAdrial.”
The squeak in her voice rises. “Adrien’s a demon?”
“A powerful one, lieutenant to the devil. One of the first to fall from Heaven. He would see this world aflame simply for his entertainment.”
Her brow wrinkles as she drops her gaze to the floor. “I knew he was too handsome to be human,” she says under her breath.
Handsome?
Handsome!?
The word strikes me with unprecedented rage and shame. A growl rips from my throat as my wings rush against my body, thrusting outward, each wingbone stretched and strained.
I am not handsome—such vanity has always been Adrial’s concern, not mine. My body was created to destroy his kind, and aesthetics were not a concern. My unyielding form is a weapon, my stony skin, my shield. I am made toscaredemons and evil humans, not to entice them.
Being handsome has never mattered, not until I heard the word on her lips. No wonder she was terrified of me the other night. I am…grotesque.
Grotesque things do not elicit lust within others. Even that, I know.
My nostrils flare as I sniff my surroundings. There are countless peculiarities in the museum, and there are things living here beyond my vast experiences. Shrouding it all is a reminder, a confirmation.He. Was. Here.
I’m shaking.
