Page 43 of Touched By Death

At the sight of my furious face, a groan has barely had time to slip from his lips by the time I’m standing in front of him with my hands on my hips and my most deadly glare directed at the girls. Much to his disappointment, or maybe relief, they rise to their feet and walk away. Days have passed since we last saw the little witch, and Daemon still hasn’t been able to fuck another female. It’s like she has the boys tied up by their fucking balls, and it’s starting to piss them the fuck off. The scathing look I pierce Daemon with doesn’t help either.

“For fuck’s sake. Out with it,” he mutters, slouched on the armchair with his shirt and jeans unbuttoned.

It’s the same story for Alaric and Ronan, who are spread out on the other couch, looking bored out of their minds while watching the dancing crowd of girls. They’re all pussy-whipped, miserable males.

“I never thought I’d say this, Daemon. But snap the fuck out of it!” To emphasize my point, I click my fingers in his face.

Wings spread out on either side of the armchair, he pushes himself up, slides an arm around the backs of my thighs, and pulls me on top of him. “Have you fucked anyone lately, Dari?”

“No, I sure as fuck haven’t. And if you think I’m touching you when you’re moping around like a fucking loser, you’re dead wrong.”

His chuckle rubs me the wrong way. I try to push off him, but he bands both arms around me. It’s awkward, to say the least, to lie sprawled on top of him like this, with my cheek pressed against his warm chest. “It’s the same for you, huh? Can’t fuck anyone but a certain little brat with a golden pussy? Screw that shit. I’m over it.”

“Yeah?” I ask, digging my nails into his chest and renewing my efforts to push up. “How’s that going? Have you dipped it in any wet holes lately?”

“Have I fuck,” he says with a snort, finally releasing me.

Jumping up, I brush my hair out of my eyes. “Instead of behaving like a fucking toddler who lost his blood source, why don’t you do something about it. Take her back.”

His head shakes, and I don’t miss how he avoids my gaze. “That’s a bad idea.”

Fed up with him and his lazy ass, I walk straight up to the nearest female, grab her by the hair, and haul her out. She kicks and screams like a fucking banshee.

When I return to the room, the other girls run for the door, not wishing to be subjected to the fury blazing in my eyes. To make sure they run fucking far away, I launch a fireball at their asses. “Stay the fuck away!” Breathing out a heavy sigh before plastering on a smile that’s not at all psychotic, I turn my attention to the pathetic boys I’ve been ladened with since birth. I point to Alaric and Ronan. “You and you. Go fetch the little angel. I’ve had enough of this. I’m hungry and need to dine on a wet pussy tonight. I don’t care if she’s growling or hurling insults at me. I want her tied to my bed by the night’s end. Got it?”

Ronan jumps up and salutes me, but Alaric takes his time, unfurling and rising to his feet like a lazy cat. As he stretches his arms overhead, his black T-shirt rides up to reveal a sliver of olive skin and a trail of dark hairs. “You’re starting to sound like Daemon.”

“Daemon is a whiny brat. At least I’m not letting my pride stop me from going after what I want.”

“You heard her,” Alaric says, stretching out his wings behind him before tucking them back in. “She doesn’t want us anymore.”

“Well, there are a lot of things we don’t want in life.” I point to the door, with a blood-red nail. “Go get her.”

“Bossy,” chuckles Ronan as he leaves.

With a quirked brow, I wait for Alaric to follow, but the annoying shit ruffles my hair first. “You’re cute when you’re wound up.”

I bat him off, teeth bared.

Laughter follows him out the door, and I wait until the front door slams shut before zeroing in on the alpha of the pack, who has lit a cigarette and sunk deeper into the cushions. As I watch, he brings it to his lips, takes a deep, slow drag, and lets his arm flop over the armrest. The prominent veins that paint a roadmap on the underside of his arm draw my attention for a brief second. Leather bracelets encircle his wrist, and two thick, silver rings adorn his fingers—one on his thumb and one on his middle finger. Everything about Daemon is sensual, from the way he moves, to the way he drawls his words in that deep, husky voice of his—almost as if he’s whispering filth in your ear.

But now, there’s something else that strikes the eye. Something I haven’t seen before. A vulnerability that shines through his hard exterior. I’m on a mission to chip away at it and find the gold hidden underneath.

Cigarette back between his lips, he watches me approach with a dark glint in his eyes that he reserves for his sexual encounters. If he thinks I have any intention of touching him tonight, he’s wrong.

I want to do something far worse.

I want to break through to him because, for whatever reason, he hides behind an impenetrable exterior.

Climbing onto his lap, I hike my skirt up and straddle his lap. The familiar sensation of his warm hands sliding a slow path up my thighs threatens to derail my thoughts. I snatch the cigarette from his lips and take a long, deep drag to calm my soul. I’m fretting, and I don’t know why.

“What happened to you, Daemon?”

The expression on his face never changes, but his hands’ journey falters on my thigh. It’s so quick I almost miss it. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does.” I blow the smoke at his face—because I’m a bitch, and he’s aggravatingly stubborn. “You’re my friend, Daemon. Possibly my best friend, and believe it or not, it hurts to see you like this.”

His sensuous lips pull up to the left in just the hint of a smirk. Stroking circles with his thumbs, he studies me for a long moment. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

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