“How the fuck should I know? I'm a demon, not an electrician.”
She shuffles forward, holding out her free hand. If she comes any closer, she’ll be palming my shaft. “Just put it in my hand and I'll find it. Hopefully, I have one.”
If she doesn't find one, I'm not sticking around. I drop the battery in her hand and she spins away to look, then rushes from the room once more. She'll have to summon me again if she really wants this done. Exhaustion pulls at my body. I wonder if I could curl up right here and take a nap while she's searching. It's been a while since I've slept topside. It's never as restful as I want it to be, though.
Clara skips back into the room, holding a battery up in triumph. She grins as she tosses it to me. I reach up and put it in, then close the little door.
“Do I need to press something to make it work?” I mumble.
She hums, then clears her throat. “You really have all the bells and whistles, huh?”
I glance at her and scowl. Her gaze is fixated on my cock. Actually, she's probably focused on the curved bars wrapped around my shaft.
“My eyes are up here, little witch,” I growl, and her wide eyes flit to mine.
“I mean, if you didn't want me to stare, maybe you should have put on some pants.”
“What would be the fun in that?” I smirk as she huffs and turns away.
I'm playing with fire. Good thing I'm practically made of flames.
Omen's been on my mind more than he should be since he changed the batteries in my smoke detector. It's like he's infiltrated my thoughts and even my dreams. I blame it on the fact he popped in naked as a jaybird. Getting his physique and the extra metal he's sporting out of my brain hasn't been easy. It's annoying as shit.
Which is why it's his fault I'm halfway stuck behind my washing machine. I'm not actually stuck, but it still sucks. I was distracted when I took off my ring while doing laundry. If I didn't have Omen on my mind, I would have caught it before it rolled behind the washer. I didn't want to pull the machine out. Not that it would have helped since it's shoved against the wall in a small room.
I stretch, trying to gain an extra inch. My fingers brush against the metal and a screech leaves me. When I can't get it, I slam my fist into the washer with a yell.
“Fuck you. Dammit all to hell. Just give me a fucking break, please?”
I let out a choked sob as my chest heaves.I reach for it again, my muscles straining with the effort to reach my ring. An exasperated huff leaves me as the blood rushes to my head. I'm getting dizzy, but I refused to give up.
“Damn you, Omen,” I whisper.
The edge of the machine digs into my stomach and I wiggle my body. If I go too far, I'll end up dying back here.
“Troubles, little witch?”
I jolt, smacking the back of my head against the wall. At least I didn't squeal like I usually do. I'm starting to think he enjoys jump-scaring me. I don't understand how he's here.
I wiggle again, trying to get out. The last thing I need is to have my ass in the air while a demon stands behind me. He's probably laughing at me. Or he's already left. Can he leave? I have no idea how any of this works. I really didn't think any of this through and I'm starting to wonder if I lost everything my mother taught me.
Magic has a price. Use the book with caution. Demons aren't friends. Witches stick together. Other than not making Omen my friend, I'm doing a bang-up job. If Omen keeps materializing without warning, I might be breaking that rule, too. Then again, he doesn't seem to want anything more than to do whatever I've summoned him for.
“While I'd love to sit here and watch you twerk your way out of this mess, I'm just going to…”
His hands wrap around my waist and his thumbs press into my ass. I let out a squeal, all my dignity coming out with it. I shouldn't care, but I do. For some reason, I want him to respect me. This is definitely not going to earn me a lick of admiration. I scoff as my palms slip against the washing machine. What Iwouldn't give for one damn handhold. Actually, if I'm wishing for things, I wouldn't be in this position in the first place.
Omen picks me up and my head scrapes against the wall. An oof leaves me as my back hits his chest. At least he's clothed this time. His arms wrap around me and he swings around. Before I have a chance to protest, much less savor the pseudo hug, he drops me on my feet. I stumble and catch myself before I faceplant. By the time I turn, he's already leaning over the washing machine.
“This what you're looking for?” he asks, holding up my ring.
I snatch it out of his hand and scowl at it. “Thank you.”
He grips my chin and forces my eyes to his. “It's customary to look someone in the eye when you thank them. And possibly not look like you're going to bite their head off.”
A shiver rolls through me, though I attempt to suppress it. His nostrils flare and he steps back, releasing me. I swallow hard, unable to pull my gaze from his. His eyes flash red and he glances away, breaking our connection.
“Sorry,” I whisper.
