Page 11 of The Demon Who Loved Me

"I'm going to give you one chance," I growl, my claws itching to break free. "Let us pass, and no one has to get hurt."

The leader laughs, the sound harsh and mocking. "You're in no position to make demands," he sneers. "We have our orders. The artifact, and the girl. Hand them over, and maybe we'll consider letting you live."

That's the final straw. With a roar of fury, I let my demonic powers surge forth, my speed and strength catching the mercenaries off guard. They open fire, but I'm already moving, dodging and weaving through their bullets like a lethal dancer.

I tear into them with savage efficiency, my claws rending flesh and bone. The scent of blood fills the air, mingling with the screams of the fallen. I lose myself in the thrill of combat, my demonic rage taking control.

But as I turn to face the leader, ready to end this once and for all. I will tear him limb from limb and I will feast on his entrails!

Evelyn's voice cuts through the haze of bloodlust. "Malakai, stop!" she cries out, her tone desperate. "You've won, you don't have to do this!"

I freeze, my claws hovering just above the leader's throat. He's beaten, his weapon lost, his eyes wide with fear. Evelyn's words reach me through the fog of rage, reminding me of my humanity.

I take a deep breath, fighting to regain control. Slowly, I lower my claws, stepping back from the cowering mercenary.

"Go," I snarl, my voice rough with barely contained anger. "Tell your masters that the artifact and the girl are under my protection. If they come for us again, I won't be so merciful."

The leader scrambles to his feet, fleeing into the desert without a backward glance. I turn to Evelyn, seeing the compassion and concern in her eyes. "Are you alright?" she asks softly, reaching out to take my hand.

I nod, my breathing still ragged from the battle. "I'm okay," I assure her, taking her hand in mine. "Thank you, for being my anchor."

She takes my still-shaking hand in hers. "I'm proud of you," she says softly. "I know how hard it must be, to fight against your nature like that."

I look down at her, my heart clenching in my chest. "It's worth it," I murmur. "If it means keeping you safe."

She smiles, a real smile that lights up her whole face. "Come on. Let's go find that sage."

I can't help but return her smile, feeling a warmth spread through my chest. Despite the danger we've just faced, her presence is a comfort, a reminder of what we're fighting for.

We climb back into the blasted chariot, leaving the carnage of the checkpoint behind us.

Evelyn navigates the terrain with skill, as we travel at speeds not meant for humans or demons, the vehicle's tires kicking up plumes of sand as we race toward our goal. The journey seems to last an eternity, each minute stretching out like an hour.

But finally, as the last rays of sunlight fade from the sky, we crest a ridge and find ourselves looking down into a small, hidden valley. There, nestled amidst the sand and rock, is a simple dwelling, little more than a hut of mud and straw.

I can feel a sense of anticipation building within me as we draw closer, a feeling that we're on the cusp of something important. The sage's dwelling may be unassuming, but there's an aura of peace that surrounds it, a tranquility that seems to shimmer in the air like a mirage.

We bring the vehicle to a stop a short distance away, not wanting to disturb the quiet serenity of the place. As we step out into the cooling desert air, I take a moment to stretch my muscles, still tense from the earlier fight.

Evelyn moves to stand beside me, her hand slipping into mine. "Are you ready for this?" she asks softly, her eyes searching mine.

I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle upon my shoulders. "As ready as I'll ever be," I reply, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "Let’s save the world, or whatever."

She nods, a look of determination settling over her features. "Together," she agrees, and in that moment, I feel a surge of love and gratitude for the incredible woman by my side.

As we approach the sage's dwelling, the door swings open, revealing a figure standing in the doorway. He is an old man, his skin weathered and wrinkled like ancient parchment, his eyes bright with wisdom. But what surprises me is the aura that surrounds him, the unmistakable sense of demonic energy that clings to his very being.

"Welcome, travelers," he says, his voice as dry and whispery as the desert wind. "I have been expecting you. Please, come inside and make yourselves comfortable."

Evelyn looks at me, seemingly shaken by his words. It’s likely her first time seeing a sage. I forget how uncultured humans can be.

We step inside, the cool air of the dwelling a welcome respite from the heat of the desert. The interior is simple but comfortable, with cushions scattered on the floor and a low table set with a pot of fragrant tea. "Please, sit," the sage says, gesturing to the cushions. "You must be weary from your journey. Rest, and refresh yourselves."

We sink down onto the cushions, gratefully accepting the cups of tea he offers us. The hot liquid is soothing, the delicate aroma helping to calm my racing thoughts.

But as we sip our tea, the sage regards us with a knowing look, his eyes seeming to pierce straight through to our souls. "You have come seeking answers," he says, his voice low and serious. "About the prophecy and the bond that ties you together."

Evelyn sets down her cup, her brow furrowed in confusion. "How did you know?" she asks, her voice tinged with wonder and a hint of fear.

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