He held a hand to his ear as Bronson began screaming again. “This is very creative. How long do you intend to hold him in Purgatory before releasing him to Hell?”
“Until I get tired of hearing him scream.” She hadn’t realized how much satisfaction she’d receive from Bronson’s torment. In life as a human, she was kind and compassionate. As an Immortal Bounty Hunter, she was neither. “That might take a while.”
Her hounds gathered around her in their human form. Malachi looked over them, his hands behind him as if holding a surprise from them. “Considering how well you worked together, I have a special announcement.”
Bella linked hands with Zander and Dalton. Ransom put his hands on her shoulders and peeked over. Like dogs waiting for a meaty bone, they all leaned toward him with expectation.
“How would you like to continue with another case?”
Bella grinned. “We thought you’d never ask.”
The hounds reverted to their canine forms and pranced about as they lifted their muzzles to howl, filling Purgatory with their horrendous noise. They collected at her back and she opened a portal.
“Come on boys, let the hunt begin.”
THE END
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DANA LYONS
Award winning and International bestselling author Dana Lyons is multi-published in the paranormal romance genre. She writes speculative fiction, hot & sexy paranormal romance including shape shifter, reverse harem and crime mystery, time travel, as well as contemporary romance, urban adventure, and suspense thriller. You can find her print, e-book, and audio books at:
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Demon Stalked
Ann Denton and Katie May
About Demon Stalked
Katrina tried to reject us. But are we going to let our mate tell us to take a hike?
Hell no.
We’re going to woo the shit out of this human girl, get her to go to this winter dance, and make all her dreams come true.
Because that’s what demons do…right?
Zolroth
“No, I wasn’t exaggerating,” I huff into the phone as I pace back and forth, wearing holes into my bedroom rug. “I meant what I said.” I pause, listening to the whiny voice on the other end, before sighing heavily. “Yes, fifty-five and a half dozen red roses.”
Honestly, you’d think I was bloody asking the florist to cut off his hand and eat it by his behavior. Shouldn’t he want my business?
If my calculations are correct—which they are—that should be exactly six hundred and sixty-six red roses, soon to be delivered to Katrina’s hotel room.
Katrina.
My heart hurts just thinking of her—the girl who in a span of weeks has quickly become my entire world. I can picture her now with her bright pink hair, soft smile, as if she’s in the midst of telling a secret, and sparkling eyes.
But she left us—left me—a few days ago, after she discovered that she was our Center. In demonic terms, that’s a fated mate and the only person capable of making a demon vulnerable to physical harm. She selflessly decided to leave our murder of demons in order to save us from the angel flock hunting us.
But we’re too selfish, too in love with her, to let her go.
Or at least, I am.
I haven’t seen the other demons in my murder since she walked out the door, taking with her a piece of my soul. Two pieces, actually, since I had gotten immensely attached to her four-year-old brother, Adam, as well.
Scowling, I rattle off my credit card information to the florist before switching my phone off and tossing it onto my bed.
I need to do more.
Six hundred and sixty-six roses aren’t enough to win back my fated mate, my Center, the love of my life.
I turn towards one of the many bedroom mirrors adorning my wall, smoothing out a small wrinkle in the pants of my gray suit. The light color contrasts greatly with my dark skin and my buzzed black hair. At some point during the numerous phone calls I sent out, I rolled up my sleeves to my elbow. Now, I straighten them out and fix my red tie.
As a materialism demon, it’s unsurprising that I enjoy the finer things life has to offer. Expensive clothing, for one. This suit alone cost nearly seven thousand dollars. Though…
I frown slightly as I stare at my reflection.
Though I could’ve used that money to buy Katrina twenty thousand more roses.
I’ve never had to woo a woman before. Normally, they flock towards me like moths to a flame. It could be my ethereal good looks…or it could be my British accent. Girls like a good accent.
Hell, maybe it’s both.
But what else can I gift Katrina that she doesn’t already have? I could find her deadbeat parents and…what? What would I do with them? They left Katrina and their son after their house burned down. We may or may not have also sent an anonymous tip to the FBI implicating them in a fraud case. But you know, semantics.
Still, I’m happy they’re out of Katrina and Adam’s life, even though I know both of them are hurt by it. Katrina is operating under this false mentality that they left because she’s not good enough, and Adam is just confused as to why his parents don’t love him as much as his sister does.
Okay, parents are out. What else?
My love is on the decathlon team, and despite their last-place win at the out-of-state competition, I know she loves the team. Maybe I can purchase a set of flashcards?
Don’t be a bloody imbecile, Zolroth! Flashcards are not a romantic gift.
My mind snaps back to the poster I saw in the school hall for the Nightmare Before Christmas dance. Despite being in early December, only a week or two away from Christmas break, the student senate decided to host a Halloween-themed dance. It’s tacky, if I do say so myself, but it might just be my saving grace.
Smiling triumphantly at my new idea, I grab my phone off the bed and dial the number of the local boutique specializing in custom-made dresses.
As soon as the woman on the other end picks up, I say, “Hanna, darling, I would like to schedule an appointment for later this week.”
I don’t know why I’m still attending school when Katrina is ignoring me.
Maybe I’m a masochist. Maybe I feel as if I deserve this new Hell I have found myself in. Or maybe it’s because I’m so hopelessly in love with her that I’m willing to treasure every stolen glimpse in her direction, every laugh she shares with her best friend, Stacy, every time her eyes flicker towards me before quickly turning away, a delicate blush staining her cheeks.
I live for those blushes now.
“I thought I was the only one who stalked her,” a familiar voice muses, and I wrench my gaze away from Katrina to meet Akor’s gaze head-on. The pain demon leans casually against the nearest locker, his pink mohawk, tattoos, and piercings making him stand out amidst the snobby rich kids like a zebra in a flock of sheep.
“Akor?” I quirk a brow as he keeps his eyes fixed on an oblivious Katrina, currently laughing with Stacy and her boyfriend, David. “What are you doing here? I thought we decided that…” I lower my voice so as to not be overheard, “…that you weren’t going to pretend to be a student here. Because of reasons.” I stress the last work with a pointed look at my brother in all ways but blood.
And those “reasons” consist of dead bodies and eccentricities. The leader of our demon murder, Raz, agreed that Akor best served our cause elsewhere. Anywhere that wasn’t a room full of teenagers. He has a tendency to murder first and ask questions later. Besides, he’s in charge of watching our newest pet—a football player named Jason, whom Akor accidentally killed and then brought back to life as a zombie dog.
Long fucking story, but one that sums up everything there is to know about Akor
.
“She hasn’t returned my calls,” he practically growls, the primal noise scaring a passing freshman girl, who jumps ten-feet in the air, turns wide eyes onto Akor, and then runs in the opposite direction. “Or my smoke signals. Do you know how long I sat outside her hotel room window, burning that bonfire? Maybe I could set off fireworks in her room, declaring my lo—”
“Nope,” I cut in immediately. It’s always best to stop an ‘Akor idea’ before it can solidify.
“Or a firework show and a—”
“No.” I shake my head side to side vigorously. When he finally peels his gaze away from Katrina, genuine confusion in his eyes, I shake my head once more. “No fireworks.”
“But—”
“And no bombs shooting glitter either.”
“But—”
“And no foreign animals that are capable of eating her. Actually? No animals.”
“Animals…” Akor taps a finger to his chin as a wicked gleam enters his eyes. It’s one that a lesser man would cower from. Even I, a demon with centuries of experience with him, feel a cold chill skate down my spine like a snake hewn of ice. “I have an idea!”
Before I can protest—beg him not to—he lets out an enthusiastic whoop, garnering Katrina’s attention, and hurries in the opposite direction, fist-pumping the air.
“Oh, dear God.” Ignoring Katrina’s probing, curious stare, I pull my phone from my school uniform pocket—bloody hideous, these things they call clothes—and type out a text to Raz. He responds back instantly, promising he’ll keep an eye on Akor, though we both know that will do virtually nothing. Once Akor sets his mind to something, it’s almost impossible to get him to change it.
I shove my phone back into my pocket and finally lift my gaze to meet Katrina’s. I’m barely breathing as I prepare myself to stare into her gorgeous eyes, as I prepare myself for a Hallmark-level moment where she realizes how much she actually loves me. How she can’t even comprehend leaving me.
But when I lift my head, it’s to see an empty stretch of hallway.
Katrina is gone.
Just before lunch, I duck into a tiny nook between where one section of locker ends and another one begins. This position allows me to see the entire hall, but no one can see me unless they look this way specifically. It’s completely undignified and quite juvenile, but I can’t find it in me to care.
I watch in rapt fascination as Katrina walks down the hallway, smiling softly at whatever Stacy is saying. For the first time, I notice how distraught and weary my girl actually looks. Her pink hair hangs in a loose ponytail, a few strands escaping and framing her cherubic face. Katrina never wears ponytails. Ever. Even in gym class, she’ll often keep her luscious pink locks down. Heavy bags settle underneath her eyes as if she hasn’t been sleeping well. She wears no makeup, not even the standard mascara she normally applies, and it makes her face seem even paler. Thinner. Has she been eating well?
Maybe I can deliver a huge turkey for her and Adam. Humans like turkeys, correct?
At first, I assumed that even though my heart was breaking, hers was still in one piece. Even though I was miserable, she was flourishing.
But to know that she’s as distressed about this decision as I am only cements my resolve.
I will win Katrina back, no matter the cost.
Her smile is tentative as she turns towards her blonde friend, Stacy, and says something in response to the other girl’s monologue. Stacy laughs immediately before the two of them stop at Katrina’s locker.
I wait with bated breath as she turns the dial, still nodding along to whatever Stacy is saying, and when she finally opens it, my heart gallops like a herd of wild horses.
Katrina pauses, staring intently into the locker as a delicate frown pulls down her full lips. I can’t tell for certain from this distance, but it appears as if tears prick her eyes as she grabs the fuzzy black jewelry case I put in there earlier today. It was surprisingly easy to get her locker combination. All I had to do was slide a fifty to the secretary.
Note to future self—look into the secretary for corruption. Her soul is teetering on the brink and should be easy to convince.
Stacy’s practically squealing as she stares over Katrina’s shoulder at what I know to be inside of the case.
It’s a charm bracelet I bought specifically for her. The bracelet itself is constructed out of pure silver with a dozen minuscule diamonds interspersed throughout. Each charm represents something Katrina loves more than anything—a LEGO for Adam, a book for decathlon, a clapper to symbolize her love for movies, and the horns of a demon. Subtle? Not especially. Effective. Yes.
Her eyes shoot up, scouring the hallway until they rest on the spot where I hide. I don’t even bother trying to slink further into the shadows. Instead, I step forward and swagger forward with a cocksure grin.
Katrina says something to Stacy before marching across the hall and meeting me directly in the middle.
“What is this?” she demands, holding up the gorgeous bracelet nestled snugly in velvet.
“It’s a gift,” I respond easily as her eyes narrow adorably.
“Zolroth…” She takes in a huge breath, shoulders touching her ears, before she releases it on a long exhale. “You need to stop.”
“Stop…?” I pretend to feign confusion as she bites down on her pillowy lower lip…a lip I, too, have imagined biting down on.
“Stop with the gifts. The calling. The messages. And tell the others too.” She raises her chin stubbornly, a hard edge creeping into her eyes. “I made my decision, and I’m not changing it. I absolutely refuse to cause you guys harm—”
“It’s not technically you causing us harm, love,” I cut in before she can continue her tirade. I know once she starts, she’ll never stop, and she’ll grow even more sure that she made the right decision.
“You only get hurt when you’re around me,” she counters immediately. “So you guys need to leave. Go back to Hell or wherever it is you demons go.”
“I’m hurt, love. I don’t think I ever had a girl tell me to go to Hell before.” I try to keep my voice teasing, soothing, even, but inside, my heart feels like it’s shattering into thousands of delicate pieces. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to tape them back together again. And maybe I don’t want to. Maybe if I don’t have Katrina, it’s worth carrying around the heavy shards.
“Zolorth, please.” Tears prick her eyes as she wipes a hand down her face. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
“Katrina…” I take a step closer and place a hand on her soft cheek. “I’m never going to stop fighting for you, for us, and I don’t think the others will either. It doesn’t matter to me that you make us vulnerable. It actually makes me feel more…human. But what I can’t handle is you pushing me away. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to handle that.” I hold her stare in my own, willing her to see the sincerity emanating from my eyes.
I want to tell her that I love her, that demons mate for life, that even if she pushes me away, I’ll always be here on the sidelines. Loving her. Wanting her. Protecting her.
“Zolroth…” I can see her resolve wavering—she wants me just as desperately as I want her.
“The dance.” I nod towards the poster directly behind her. “Let me take you to it. Let me prove to you that I care about you more than words can say.”
“I don’t…” She trails off again, face aflame, and I dive in for the kill.
“At least consider it, Katrina. Please.”
Let me prove myself to you, my love. Let me shower you with everything your heart could ever desire.
“I’ll consider it,” she relents at last, sounding forlorn and unsure. She scratches absently at the inside of her wrist. “But I’m not making any promises.”
“That’s all I ask of you.” I lower my head to hide my gleeful grin as she turns on her heel, walking briskly down the hall to catch up with Stacy, who’s squealing with excitement.
I’ve gotten her
to agree to keep an open mind about something that’s clearly outside her current comfort zone. That’s always the first step in temptation.
Now, I can move on to my next phase of the plan…
There are only a few people present when I step into Madame Cherry’s dress emporium. The tiny boutique is located in the downtown district, conveniently between a dry-cleaning service and a community laundromat. Despite its horrendous location, the dresses are top-of-the-line quality.
“Hello,” I say pleasantly as the tiny bell overhead signals my arrival. Hanna, one of the workers, glances up from where she’s fixing the hem of a wedding gown. She’s an older woman with gray hair smoothed away from her weathered face and dressed in a pressed pantsuit.
“Hello, darling.” Her distinct French accent makes me smile softly.
“Did you get the measurements I sent you?” I inquire as I run my fingers across the silk bodice of the nearest dress.
“Yes!” She claps her hands together with a beaming smile. “Is this for a girlfriend, mi amore? A wife?”
“Not yet.” I lightly trace a seam on a second dress. “But soon. Now, can you help me with this?”
By the end of this week, Katrina will be mine once more.
Katrina
Miserable doesn’t begin to describe how I feel. I stand in the shallow end of the pool, as lifeless as any stupid inflatable toy, while Adam splashes all around me.
Everything reminds me of them. Everything.
I’ll see a guy walk through the hotel in a suit, and I’ll start to tear up, remembering Zolroth’s ridiculous fashion obsession. I’ll see some woman adjust her earrings, and my throat will close, remembering how Akor took me on a wild shoplifting adventure. A rom com on television? Forget it. Goner. Sobbing into my pillow and remembering Van, wondering if he likes this movie, or what his critiques of it might be. Jeopardy, text books, anything that might remind me of decathlon—I shove all my books in the back of the closet because it just makes me think of Kastros and his silent looming and hard truths. I can hardly stand to play with some of Adam’s action figures, knowing that the last person to touch them was Raz. It’s almost as if I can feel his phantom touch, his lips.
Wicked Souls: A Limited Edition Reverse Harem Romance Collection Page 146
