Demon Disgrace

by M. J. Haag

  “She’s restless.”

  “I hope that doesn’t mean taking her to the basement again. I can’t stand hearing you spank her or her yelps when you bite her. It’s breaking my heart.”

  “I know.”

  There was that damn “I know” again. If he was so all-knowing, why couldn’t he figure out that I saw his dumb pseudo-training for what it was? A strong fetish for ass abuse.

  “I’m sorry, Merdon,” Emily said.

  Why was she apologizing to him? It was my ass that hurt. And my hand still felt tender from a bite.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  The worry in her voice confused the hell out of me as did Merdon’s long, loud exhale.

  “Your heart is breaking, but mine broke the first time I struck her. Now, I die a thousand deaths each time I harden her hate toward me.”

  My mouth fell open. That couldn’t be right. I stuck a finger in my ear, certain it wasn’t working, and gripped the railing tighter when my balance wobbled.

  “Then tell her how you really feel,” Emily said.

  “You didn’t see her when she jumped from the roof. She was empty, ready for final death. Her anger gives her purpose. It is better she exists with hate than not exist at all.”

  It took a moment for his words to sink in. All those scowls? All the time in the basement? He’d done it because he thought making me hate him would keep me alive? No. He was an asshole. That wasn’t a façade.

  He’d locked me in my room, almost drowned me, forced me into a cold shower, spanked me, and bit me. He’d even threatened to break the skin.

  He’d also made sure I ate, slept, and bathed, and he had comforted me after my worst dreams.

  The echo of a memory wormed its way into my thoughts. I’d been dreaming of my mom’s hand stroking my hair, but I’d woken to him comforting me. Then, there’d been the dream of my mom, a memory of the very last time I ever saw her, but her lips hadn’t matched. She’d been about to leave, and I’d begged her not to go. I remembered what she said in real life, that she’d be right back; but in the dream, she’d promised not to leave me. Ever.

  Another one tickled my memory. I’d told my mom I’d wanted to die, and she’d told me that was no longer my choice.

  All those dreams of my mom while I was coming down from the drinking, had they all been him? Had he been the one telling me to be strong and that I needed to live?

  “Go on and lie down,” Emily said. “Sleep while you can. I’ll listen and wake you as soon as I hear her moving around.”

  Stunned, I crept back up the stairs and sat on my bed where I tried to reconcile the two very different sides of the same man.

  I die a thousand deaths each time I harden her hate toward me.

  Then tell her how you really feel.

  Those two phrases circled in my head. I wasn’t simple. I knew what they were both getting at. Merdon was fey-crushing on me but “acting” like my worst enemy. Shax’s story about Thallirin and Merdon’s exile was the only possible explanation for Merdon’s behavior shifts. He’d kept me alive, using whatever means he thought necessary because he would rather lose his chance with me than see me die.

  Exhaustion tugged at my mind, and I slow-blinked while curling back under the covers. What was real? Was it the few times Merdon had been nice or the majority when he acted like the world’s biggest asshole? If we were supposed to judge people based on their actions, and not their words, then everything I’d just heard was a lie.

  “Get up. You’ve slept long enough.”

  The angry voice immediately penetrated my sleep. Merdon. What I’d overheard earlier rattled in my mind, and I bolted upright with wide, panicked eyes.

  His scowl faded, and he dropped the crossed-armed, power-pose to squat down beside the bed.

  “You’re safe, Hannah.”

  I blinked at the feel of his hand smoothing over my curls. There it was again, his comforting touch. Was it real? My body didn’t seem to care if it was real or a lie because I wanted to lean into it and close my eyes. How could he make me feel safe with a simple stroke of my hair when I also bore faint marks from wrestling around with him in the basement? I had to be insane.

  His yellow-green gaze held mine. There was no anger, but neither was there affection like when Shax looked at Angel. If anything, Merdon looked guarded. Did that, then, signify he really didn’t want to be mean to me?

  “Hannah?” he asked when I remained quiet, his voice gruff yet gentle.

  “I don’t know what’s real anymore,” I said, feeling desperate and confused as hell.

  He tilted his head at me slightly.

  “This room is real. Tolerance, your home, is real. The food that Emily makes for you is real.”

  He’d misunderstood and was trying to comfort me, behavior that aligned with how a fey would normally act toward someone he liked. Was this the real version of Merdon?

  My gaze shifted from one of his alien eyes to the other as I tried to understand the implications of what his devotion would mean. Merdon, one of the most intense, no-boundaries fey I’d ever met, wanted me.

  Suspicion began to cloud his gaze the longer I stared at him, and his hand retreated from my hair.

  “It’s time to get up,” he repeated.

  He didn’t say it unpleasantly like he had before, but the way he was watching me closely made me nervous. He wanted me to hate him, and my stunned mind wasn’t in angry-Hannah mode at the moment. Did he know? What would he do if he found out? Please, not more spankings.

  Instead of getting out of the bed near him, I scooted to the far side, never taking my gaze from his.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure.”

  He tilted his head again and took a step as if to go around the end of the bed. I retreated farther, creating more distance. He paused and frowned at me.

  “I should change in the bathroom, alone,” I said in a rush.

  He grunted and crossed his arms.

  I scurried to the closet, grabbed clothes at random, and bolted for the bathroom.

  With a closed door safely between us, I took a calming breath and tried to gather my wits. I was acting weird, and he was noticing. I needed to cut it out and get my act together. Nothing had changed. Emily had confirmed Merdon was here because of me, what? Three days ago? After the initial panic had worn off, and he continued to be a jackass, I’d brushed my fears aside. I’d just do that again because he wasn’t trying to get in my pants and trap me for life. He was just trying to make me hate him.

  And hating Merdon was something I could do with ease.

  Nodding to myself, I grabbed my brush and started to work through the worst knots in my hair. The memory of his hand on the strands wiggled its way into my head. I could still feel his touch and shivered lightly.

  My brushing slowed as I remembered the time he’d held me just right in the basement and set places tingling that hadn’t ever tingled like that. And what about that breath-stealing, angry kiss he’d given me? Or how I’d been jealous over the easy way he acted with Emily?

  What was I doing? Was I as stupid and slow as he accused me of being?

  I ran a hand over my face then studied myself in the mirror, trying to objectively view the “Hannah” everyone else saw. There were dark circles under my eyes, but I’d lost some of that haunted look I’d tried so hard to not see. Eating well these past few days and exercising had put some color back into my skin. But, I still looked sick and starved and troubled. Deeply troubled.

  Why was I having any kind of romantic-type responses to Merdon when I was still so messed up in my head? And talking to someone, like Brenna suggested, had backfired completely. Merdon’s response to my confession had been the opposite of helpful.

  Yet, after overhearing what I had, I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d answered the way he had in order to further provoke me into hating him.

  “Gah, this is so messed up.”

  A knock on the door r
esonated loudly and startled me into dropping the brush.

  “Are you all right, Hannah?” Emily asked from the other side. “Merdon said you’re acting a little weird this morning.”

  “I’m fine. I just need a minute. Too much going on in my head, you know?”

  “Yeah, that’s not reassuring me. Can I come in?”

  “Nah, I’m coming out. I’m hungry and don’t want to think anymore.”

  I quickly pulled on the clean shirt then left the bathroom. If Merdon had a problem with the sleep shorts, he’d just need to deal with it. He wasn’t in the bedroom to notice, though.

  Emily waited by the hall door. A look of relief crossed her features after she looked me over.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

  “It’s okay. I know you didn’t sleep well last night; I heard you. Maybe after breakfast, you can take a nap on the couch.”

  “Not sure Merdon will be okay with that,” I said, following her from the room. I hoped he would. Naptime was far preferable to mat-time.

  “You never know,” she said with a shrug.

  And the sad truth was that I really didn’t know what to expect from him.

  He was waiting for us in the kitchen and watched me closely as I forced myself to nonchalantly occupy my usual seat at the island. His hair was damp, and he wore new clothes. While I was sure he hadn’t been wearing the same clothes for the past few weeks, given his penchant for my cleanliness, this was the first time I’d noticed the change. Why was I noticing?

  I peeked at him from the corner of my eye. Were his biceps getting bigger? Did his pectoral just twitch? It couldn’t possibly be as hard as it looked. I should check later.

  Shit. No checking, Hannah.

  “I made a pre-breakfast treat,” Emily said, uncovering a plate of brownies.

  My stomach growled hungrily at the sight of the dark brown squares, and I quickly grabbed two. Brownies were just the distraction I needed.

  “I’m in heaven,” I mumbled after a big bite. Chocolate was the best way to forget man-problems.

  “I figured you might be,” she said with a laugh. “What about you, Merdon? Are you willing to give them a try?”

  I glanced at him as he took one from the plate. God, his hands were big. I mean, I knew they were big, but I hadn’t really looked at them. They were crazy big. Like cover-my-face big.

  That’s not the only big thing, my brain whispered. The memory of the dropped fork incident at Mary’s had me flushing as Merdon took a tentative bite from his brownie.

  I had to look away from his mouth. Could I be any more messed up?

  “You don’t like it?” Emily asked after watching him for a moment.

  Resisting the urge to peek at him again, I kept my focus firmly on Emily as he spoke.

  “It’s good, but Mya warned Drav that the chocolate supply is limited.”

  I’d forgotten about her chocolate cravings. Her current pregnant condition didn’t mean she could call dibs on the world’s remaining chocolate reserve, though. It wasn’t fair to the rest of us, including the fey who were still trying to figure out what they did and didn’t like to eat.

  “It might be limited, but you can still have a brownie if you want it,” I said, doing my best not to look at him. “It’s not healthy for humans to eat too much of it. Moderation is the key. Just don’t try telling a pregnant woman that. It won’t end well for you.”

  Emily giggled.

  “Pregnant women or a woman enduring shark week. You’ll be mauled by both,” she added.

  I grinned at her and ate the rest of my brownies.

  “I should feel guilty that you’re doing all this cooking and offer to give you a break,” I said to Emily, “but you’re a far better cook.”

  “Not true. Your biscuits are amazing.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Maybe you’ll consider making them to go with one of the meals?” she asked hopefully.

  “Maybe,” I said, not wanting to sound too eager when the reality was that I’d do anything that could get me out of basement time.

  The main breakfast, a filling oatmeal with enough pumpkin and seasoning that it tasted like pie, topped the brownies I’d already eaten. I scraped the last of it from the bowl and stood to carry my dishes to the sink.

  The hair on my legs tickled my skin as I walked, and I cringed. General fucked-up-ness aside, how could Merdon possibly be interested in a furry-legged, she-man in the making? I double-cringed that my head went to what he thought of me. What about what I thought? When was the last time I cared about myself enough to self-groom? I used to shave my legs religiously, hating the feel of stubble.

  “Any chance I could get a razor to shave before I need to start braiding stuff?” I asked Emily as I rinsed my bowl.

  Silence met my question, and I glanced back in time to see the pair sharing a look and Merdon shaking his head.

  “Great,” I said moodily. “I guess I’ll just stick with long pants from now on.”

  “It won’t be forever,” Emily said, her voice laced with concern and regret.

  I waved both away.

  “Whatever. I better get ready or I’ll be late meeting Brenna.”

  “No archery today,” Merdon said, stopping my retreat.

  Turning, I forced myself to look at him.

  “What? Why not?”

  “You’re not ready. We’ll practice in the basement.”

  The idea of rolling around on the mat with Merdon sent a jolt of panic through me and reignited my flush.

  “Isn’t there something else we can do? Something outside? Something that doesn’t require touching?”

  He tilted his head at me again. Crap. Could he hear the way my pulse was hammering? My palms grew sweaty.

  “You’re teaching me how to avoid being bitten, right? Isn’t running the best option? How about I just go for a run around Tolerance?”

  He shook his head slowly and then started toward me.

  I retreated a step.

  He moved faster.

  I squealed and tried to bolt up the stairs.

  His arm wrapped around my waist, and a moment later, I was draped over his shoulder in defeat. The position gave me an up-close view of how his pants hugged his perfectly shaped backside.

  I rubbed my face and lifted my head to look back at Emily pleadingly.

  “I’ll make something good for lunch,” she promised.

  “No, find something for me to do that will keep me out of the basement.”

  Merdon swatted my backside sharply. I winced at the sting and at the way his hand lingered for just a fraction of a second after making contact. Had all those spankings been a way to cover up his secret desire for an ass grab?

  A full-body flush consumed me, and I tried to fan my face as he descended the steps.

  As soon as he reached the bottom, he set me on the mat. I bounded away from him, shaking my head to dislodge my thoughts. I needed to redirect them. This wasn’t the time to start thinking about all the touching that was about to go down. Nope, definitely not the time.

  “I can do this.” I bounced lightly on my feet. “I can focus. Just focus. We’re fighting. Nothing to it.”

  Merdon blinked slowly as he watched me.

  “Do you still not know what is real?”

  Great. Now he thought I was even crazier.

  “Nope. You’re real. The spankings are very real. And the bites suck. I’d rather avoid those. Got any new tips for me?”

  “You’re acting strange.”

  I stopped moving so much and gave him a pathetic look that truly reflected how I felt on the inside.

  “I know. I don’t know what to do about it. I’m trying, and it’s not working.”

  He studied me for a moment then got into his “get ready for me” crouch. My nerves ratcheted up a notch, and I glanced at his pecs then his hands. My thoughts drifted back to touching, and I struggled to dislodge the topic with a new one.

  “I
was serious about the tips,” I said as I copied him and tried to focus. “And about the running. The only reason I’ve avoided any of your attacks so far is because you are purposely being slower, and you’re not using all your strength. You’ve said time and again that I can’t depend on pain. Obviously, that’s because pain doesn’t register with the infected. So half my dirty moves are out. Wouldn’t the smart thing be to work on my cardio so I can outrun them and avoid any bite-defense moves altogether?”

  I listed to the side and dizzily realized I’d missed a few breaths during my nervous word spew.

  “Focus, Hannah,” Merdon warned.

  A small “eep” escaped my lips as he launched himself at me. I should have moved, turned and run, or maybe executed my drop and roll number. Instead, I stood there like a deer in headlights. He brought me down to the mat, his body pressing the front of mine and his teeth grazing that sweet spot right over my collarbone.

  I lifted my hands like I was welcoming a lover’s embrace. He jerked his head up at the first touch of my fingers to his hair. My skin tingled where his mouth had been, and I licked my lips as I stared up at him.

  His gaze flicked to my tongue, then his weight disappeared from me.

  “Again,” he said angrily. “This time, try.”

  Breathing hard, I scrambled to my feet.

  “I’m sorry. I’ll try.”

  He blinked at me then slowly got into his ready crouch.

  “Remember, brace your forearm against my throat to keep my mouth away from you.”

  “What about your hands?” I asked as I attempted the same prepared position.

  “What about them?”

  “If you’re trying to bite me, and I use my arm to stop you, what will your hands be doing?” My mind pictured some pretty intense petting with a bit of mild groping. “I mean, if you were an infected,” I added quickly.

  “I will try to move your arm.”

  “Right. You’ll touch my arm. Got it.”

  He came at me again. I managed to get my arm up like he’d shown me, and my hand gripped his shoulder. But the feel of the muscles under my fingers distracted me. My grip slipped to his pectoral—it really was as hard as it looked—as he hooked a leg behind mine and brought me down to the mat again.