by R. Scarlett
She stilled, eyes narrowing at his words.
He lifted both thick arms, nodding his head at her. “What? Scared of the beast?” His shadowed features appeared more rugged in the streetlight as a sly smirk warmed his lips. “Bruise me, sweetheart.”
She didn’t waste a second, jabbing her elbow out only for him to sidestep it, grip her wrist, and pull her flat against him. “Rusty?”
She stomped on his foot and he hissed in pain. “Just warming up, sweetheart,” she breathed, gripping his jaw in one hand.
“I’m impressed,” he said, his gaze never leaving hers. Her entire body pulsed with daemon energy, and any demon older than a child would’ve known she could destroy them with a twist of her hand if she wanted to.
But he hadn’t moved.
“But let me warm you,” he said, his words rumbling through his body and into hers like an earthquake. His forearm pressed against her slender neck and he moved her back into the brick wall, a shiver of dread and desire ghosting her skin. His hot breath heated the tip of her nose, then the top of her mouth.
It scared her how close she felt to him, how well he could read her. She should’ve felt danger, but all she felt was safety. They were exploring each other, learning each other—mind, body, and everything in between—and she felt closer to him than she had to anyone else ever before.
That fact alone terrified and thrilled her.
Trust, Molly thought. He’s trusting me.
Her fingers traced his rigid jaw to a faded scar on his cheek, and she watched as his rugged features softened in curiosity.
Her hand dipped, smoothing across his collarbone to his pecs, and farther down over his sculpted abs. She was feeling him, feeling his warm, steely muscles flex under her prodding touch, his bulging biceps and the curve of his strong, defined hipbones. He breathed heavily through his nostrils as the moments ticked by.
Her own breath hitched when his cool, rough palms edged underneath her shirt, roaming her bare stomach up to the bottom of her heaving bosom trapped in her tight bra. They curved over her large breasts and squeezed gently at first, causing a breathy moan to escape her mouth as she dug her nails into his hipbones.
She could feel a powerful energy traveling between the two of them at the contact.
“Do you feel that?” His breathless rasp echoed into her thudding eardrums. His hands slid to her spine and pulled her closer. “That’s how powerful we make each other.”
She panted against his broad shoulder, lips parted. He wasn’t lying; he was Adonis, built like a god of death and destruction, and she was surrounded by him.
She was falling for a god, bent on chaos, and she craved him like her last breath.
His hands slid out from her shirt, but he didn’t move away. He slowly caught his breath and lifted his her chin, his heavy, sharp gaze trained on her.
“Don’t look at me like that.” His words were sharp and low, his face tightening as he spoke.
“Like what?”
“Like you want me to devour you,” he hissed. “Because, Darling, believe me when I say that there’s nothing I’d love more than to devour you completely,” he finished, his voice menacingly low.
Her skin flushed and she drew her bottom lip into her thirsty mouth. “I’d love that.”
His eyes darkened to a degree that boiled her insides and made her clench her thighs together. “Remember that I warned you, ciccia.”
He pushed off from the wall then, hands tight, but didn’t look away from her. “C’mon,” he said, taking her hand to lead her along the shadowy streets. He half-turned to look at her, his smile wolfish. “You need to be fed.”
THE BAR WAS dim and built from many kinds of woods—the tables, the paneled walls, even the menus—definitely not Tensley Knight’s usual scene. Molly knew he’d rather be in a bar with high ceilings, glass walls strangers could admire him through, thick leather couches to lounge on with a whiskey on the rocks, and expensive appetizers that cost an entire month’s worth of rent.
Tensley slouched out of his suit jacket at the table, causing Molly to bite her lip at the sight of his muscles beneath his shirt. She couldn’t shake the feeling of him on top of her, between her thighs, nipping at her wild pulse.
“How’s Red?”
Molly snapped out of her fantasies at the sound of his husky voice. “Uh, she’s okay. Well, she will be. She’s still shaken up.”
Tensley nodded, stretching an arm across the back of his seat. “Reasonable. Pearce has been avoiding me, probably because he knows he’s gonna get his ass kicked.” His eyes shifted back to her and he paused. “Who were you seeing in that music shop?”
“Lance—a warlock. Cree mentioned him to September and me and I was hoping he’d have an idea about where Cree might be hiding out. He didn’t.”
Tensley scoffed. “Never trust a warlock. Their blood is poisoned by hunters. They’ll betray you to save their own bony necks.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. Lance hadn’t seemed like a bad guy, but after her track record of trusting people, she wasn’t going to easily side with him. “He seemed more neutral than anything.”
Another scoff and then silence.
The candle in the center of the table flickered, highlighting Tensley’s stern, handsome features. Molly remembered their first date, how tense he’d been as he sat across the table in that classy Italian restaurant, beads of sweat lining his brow. It had been the first moment Molly saw more of the man than the demon side of Tensley Knight.
A couple sat down near them now, and the girl wouldn’t stop staring at Molly from her booth. Molly bowed her head, afraid her eyes might be glowing.
Tensley’s hand caught hers and rubbed soothing circles into her cool skin. “Look at me,” he murmured. “Ignore them.”
She grinned shyly at him and slid her finger along his thumb, over a red scar and to the pronounced vein on the side of his wrist, feeling his steady pulse. “What happened to you? To the cruel demon?”
Tensley’s features fell and so did her stomach when she realized what she’d said.
Great job, Molly.
“Still here, Molly. More than ever.” He inhaled very slowly, chest expanding as his hands curled a little on the table and he looked at her, something shifting in his expression. “But you should find someone else to be intimate with before we go any further, someone who cares about you.”
The room was suddenly shrinking, suffocating her. Molly withdrew her hands. “Someone who…cares about me?” A thorn grew in her chest and she found it hard to breathe, the heat of the candle and the bodies surrounding them swarming her as she stared at him.
He twisted away, avoiding her stare as he beckoned the waiter over to take their drink order.
“And what would happen if I wanted to be with this person instead?” Molly pressed, blinking repeatedly, absorbing Tensley’s words. “What if I wanted to marry him? What if I wanted to only be with him?” She swallowed thickly. “Would you be okay with that?”
“I live in a dangerous world, I associate with dangerous people, I am fucking dangerous,” he bit out. “I don’t want to rob you any more than I already have. We can figure out solutions, you can see other people, I’ll…” He swallowed harshly, as if it pained him to continue. “I can manage if you see someone else—”
“You’re okay if I take a lover?” Her brows shot up.
“I’ll do what’s necessary for you to live your life the way you want. Just like you said before, we can make a schedule when you’re comfortable and ready. I would like you to be in my life more frequently, but I don’t want to force—”
“I just want you, Tensley,” she said with a hushed edge.
Those obsidian eyes found hers and pierced her heart. “I’m giving you a chance to choose.”
She smiled at his scowl. “And I choose you. Why is that so hard to understand?”
Tensley looked away, a muscle flickering in his cheek. “I saw you with that man, outside your apartm
ent.”
Molly frowned. “Michael?”
He tsked and loosened his tie, the nerves running from his tense muscles to his features. He licked his bottom lip and swore under his breath several times as if battling with himself. “What if I fall short? I can’t give you everything you want, everything you need. Emotional intimacy doesn’t come naturally to me, to us demons.”
His words were so soft, so quiet, that Molly thought for a second maybe she’d just imagined that Tensley was confiding in her.
Molly had debated ordering a beer earlier, but now she wanted the hard stuff. He was scared of failing her? That emotion alone proved just how kind he was. He wasn’t a demon; he wasn’t a cold, unfeeling beast. Now she just needed to make him believe it. Even when he was supposed to be a demon only thinking of his own needs, he thought of her, of protecting her heart.
Tensley lifted his drink and took a large gulp, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.
Suddenly he coughed heartily, dropping his glass so that it shattered across their table. “Fu—”
“Tensley?”
His eyes darted to her water and in one swoop he knocked it from her hand, spilling the liquid all over her clothes. “Don’t drink that!”
Molly jumped back, the icy water soaking through her skirt as Tensley gasped in his seat, struggling for air.
She stood up and gripped his forearm, her heart going haywire. “Tensley what’s wrong?!”
His face grew red as he clenched his throat and spluttered. “No—I think—” He tried to stand but fell back into the chair, fingers clawing at the tablecloth.
“What’s wrong?” Her tone had turned panicky.
“Golden fleece,” he croaked.
MOLLY’S HEART BEAT at a gallop as the truth plunged into her chest: someone had poisoned their drinks. She eyed the couple beside her, then the bartender, and they were all watching them closely.
She gripped Tensley’s bicep and wrapped an arm around his chest. “C’mon,” she whispered. “We’re getting out of here.”
“Is he okay?” the waiter asked when they stumbled by, his eyes wide.
Molly smiled thinly. “Fine. He just needs fresh air.”
People stared unapologetically as she helped Tensley to the exit, his breathing becoming more erratic as his limbs slowed. The golden fleece was spreading fast; Molly remembered the feeling, the rush, and then the emptiness. He’d be paralyzed soon, and would lose consciousness soon after that.
“I got you, Tensley.” She squeezed him tighter, channeling her powers to have the strength to move him.
She used her hip to push open the back door and stumbled out into the dark alley. The smell of garbage and smoke filled her nostrils, the humid night air clinging to them like a second skin.
A fist connected with Molly’s cheek, sending them staggering into the brick wall.
“Fuckers,” Tensley managed to cough, leaning against it to stay upright.
Molly worked her jaw back and forth—it wasn’t broken—and stared at the three figures approaching them. One had bright pink hair thrown up into a ponytail, and Molly spit in her direction. Freya. “Haven’t seen you since Shoot the Freak burned down. I see you escaped with all your hair intact—pity.”
“How were your drinks?” Freya shot back, readjusting her ponytail with a sneer.
Tensley growled deep in his chest and a tiny wheeze followed after. His cool composure was failing, and Molly didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to stand. “Come to massacre the beasts? Afraid you wouldn’t be able to handle us without drugging us first?”
“Beasts,” emanated a slithery voice from behind the three hunters, a fourth figure joining the others.
Molly’s heart climbed into her throat at the sight of Cree and his misshapen face, made even more gruesome by the singed strip of bumpy, burned skin along his hairline.
“Such a fitting word for the two of you,” Cree added, his voice like nails on a chalkboard to Molly’s ears. His heavy metal boots thudded against the cement ground, creating a terrifying rhythm in her chest. “I’m surprised you haven’t destroyed each other yet.” He waved his sharp dagger between the two of them, the blade glinting under the small amount of light in the alley. Cree tilted his head to look at Molly with a playful, far-too-confident expression in his eyes as he scanned every inch of her. “Still look like a prissy Manhattan princess, huh? We just couldn’t knock it out of you.”
“Where’s Lex?” Molly asked, tone miraculously hard and unwavering.
A slow, sinister smile curved Cree’s flaky lips. “Dying. Very slowly.”
Tensley snarled and stepped away from the wall on wobbly legs, but Molly immediately caught his bicep and yanked him back.
“You’re too weak,” she whispered into his ear, putting herself between him and the four demon hunters.
Molly studied each face—they’d been her comrades once, people she fought alongside. Well, not anymore. She eyed Cree’s dagger and smiled to herself.
She didn’t need a weapon—she was the weapon.
“I’d walk away now before she destroys you,” Tensley taunted weakly, though somehow his voice still held that vicious edge that ran a finger of dread down one’s spine. A powerful energy rose around him like a blue flame and she held her breath, startled by his strength, his authority. He wielded everything—strength, beauty, even his tongue—as a lethal weapon. He was deadly, but she wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to stay conscious. The poison moved fast and he was fighting it.
She wanted to fight Cree, wanted to destroy him.
“Too late for that.” She bared her teeth and stepped closer.
Cree’s eyes widened but he unfolded his arms to look more imposing and glared at her. “You don’t know what you’re getting into,” he warned.
“I know exactly what I’m doing. I’ve outgrown you,” Molly stated, swinging first. Cree ducked, snatching her wrists and flipping her. Cheers and laughter erupted from the three hunters as Molly collided with the asphalt, immediately jumping up and this time successfully landing a punch to Cree’s midsection.
He retaliated with a lunge, elbowing her in the nose to paint her vision with black and white dots. Blood trickled into her mouth, and she tasted the metallic saltiness of it.
Just as she gained her vision back, Molly caught a glimpse of Tensley storming toward Cree. No! Tensley raised a fist over Cree’s head, but Cree noted Molly’s expression and spun.
With one swift jab, Cree dragged his blade across Tensley’s stomach, sending him staggering against the wall.
“Tensley!” Molly screamed, snatching Cree before he could slice Tensley again and throwing him ten feet down the alley.
Cree groaned at the impact and looked up at her, his stare deadly. “I’ll crucify both of you, make it slow so that every hunter and every demon remembers how powerful we are,” he began, pushing himself up and swinging the dagger skillfully back and forth.
Molly saw in her peripheral that Tensley wasn’t moving, but she couldn’t look right at him—not yet, not if she wanted to stay clearheaded. She spat blood on the ground. “Not if I kill you first.”
“You can try, daemon, but why would you want to kill me when I have so much information on what it means to be like you? Haven’t you ever wondered about your powers? How to control them—how you even got them to begin with?” Cree taunted, drawing closer as two of his hunters flanked him.
In the corner of her eye, Molly caught Freya moving toward Tensley and pulling her own dagger from a pocket. Molly hissed and spun, ramming a fist into Freya’s cheek so hard that the girl flew back against the dumpster, unconscious.
Next up was a hunter Molly had never met, and he barely lasted a breath—Molly broke his arm in two, sending him screaming to the ground like a rabbit in a trap.
Cree mock-clapped from behind the final demon hunter’s protection. “Did you fuck the demon? You must’ve—you’re practically Superwoman!”
“You�
�re going to tell me where Lex is,” she demanded, taking a calculated step toward him.
Cree waggled a finger at her. “You probably want to help your boyfriend out first—it wasn’t just golden fleece that he ingested.”
Molly side-eyed Tensley’s stiff body on the ground as Cree left, his boots thudding loudly in his wake.
Go after him, her mind chanted. This could be your only chance!
Her foot inched forward, but she stopped, shook her head.
She squeezed her eyes shut and she took a deep breath.
No.
Molly limped over to Tensley’s body and palmed his cool cheeks, trying to catch his gaze. His eyes rolled around, unfocused, and his breathing was low and faint. “Tensley, can I heal you? Stay awake, just stay awake—”
“Dolcezza?”
At his husky voice, hotness pierced her eyes and she kissed him furiously, but his lips were cold and unmoving. “Tensley, come on,” Molly continued, gently pressing her hands to his cheeks, his closed eyelids. “Wake up, wake up—fuck!”
She wrapped her arm around his waist and lifted him unsteadily against her side, hurrying back the way they’d come. He was far taller than her and heavier, but she wasn’t going to let him go. She walked down the alley, unbalanced and shaky.
She needed to go somewhere close, and fast—and then she saw the flashing music shop sign.
“HELLO?”
Molly took a deep breath where she stood in Lance’s messy kitchen, having called the first person she recognized in Tensley’s recent calls. “Pearce—god, please, we need your help, Tensley’s been poisoned—”
Pearce shuffled on the other end, his voice thick with sleep. “What the fuck are you talking about? What happened to Tensley?”
Molly pinched the bridge of her nose and leaned her forehead against the Victorian doorframe, wincing from the new bruise forming there. “We were attacked; some hunters followed us and poisoned our drinks.”
