Page 3 of Stolen By the Demon

I dropped the glass of whiskey I was holding.

“Devon?” Vasili sounded alarmed; his hand reached for his gun.

I ignored him. Something fluttered inside my chest, something that hadn’t made a move in hundreds of years.

It can’t be, it just can’t be, my rational mind warned, but I was already on the move. Pushing through the throng of dancing people to reach the other end where she had just stepped off the stairs, looking around.

Angry voices shouted out when I pushed through people, barely reigning in my supernatural strength and having them tumble over one another.

“Devon!” Vasili called, hastening after me. His true concern for me making a spectacle and giving our secrets away rang out in his voice.

I moved faster when I saw someone stumbling into her, making her lose her balance and land on a stranger’s lap. A growl escaped me. The growl turned into a roar as I reached the other side of the dance floor and watched as she, with incredible strength, pushed off the man and slapped him so hard that his face flew to the side. I barely gave her unnatural strength any thought—that would have to wait for later.

I raced through a group of people, who yelled and cursed, paying no attention to their words, it’s DeVille, man, chill, or you’ll find yourself at the bottom of a lake. I was only driven by one thought, I needed to reach her, before that man could harm her.

The man rose, towering over her, and I leaped the last few paces forward, first popping his raised arm out of his socket before breaking it for good measure. He screamed and collapsed to the ground. The other people in the booth jumped up, but I barely noticed.

All I saw was her.

It was really her.

My Blanche.

Impossible, but there was no doubt in my mind it was her as her so familiar moss-green eyes stared up at me. But not with the love and adoration I was used to. Instead, her eyes were filled with curiosity and wariness. When I realized she didn’t recognize me, it was like a cannonball had hit me in the gut.

How could she not recognize me? We were lovers. No, more than that, we had been fated for one another.

I didn’t get a chance to talk to her; another face from the past appeared from down the stairs. Sir Roger, Blanche’s father’s henchman. His face was still pockmarked but paler, like Blanche’s. He snarled at me, exposing his… fangs. What in the name of the seven hells was happening here? That he wasn’t human any longer was clear, and Blanche… no, I wasn’t going there yet. My mind raced through a quick analysis of possibilities. He wasn’t a demon. I would have known if he had been turned into one. I didn’t think he was a shifter or werewolf. He wasn’t any of the creatures of my father’s making. All of us stemming from hell obeyed the number one rule: do not allow humans to see who you are. None of them would dare defy him.

All but one: vampire!

“You again, did daddy finally release you back from hell?” Roger snarled.

“What do you want?” I reached for Blanche’s hand, and the second our skin made contact, electricity shot through me. Her flesh was cold as ice, yet my body still had the same reaction to her as it always had.

Not only that. Ka-thump, ka-thump, my heart stuttered to life.

I would have jubilated, but right then, all my focus was directed at Roger and protecting Blanche from him.

Three more men—no, vampires, now I could smell their bloody stench—appeared.

I nearly laughed. A vampire did not pose any threat to me.

“Her, I will take her back to her father now,” Roger said, casually pulling his jacket to the side, giving me a glimpse of the massive .45 revolver concealed by his side. The three males who had followed him did the same. Their implied threat was nearly laughable; as the devil’s son, my powers were only matched by my brothers and father. A bullet or even a hundred wouldn’t slow me. Neither did the threat against the humans in my club particularly worry me. I wouldn’t have given two shits about them. My concern was for one person only: Blanche. Beautiful Blanche who I had thought I would never see again.

Still, I was ready for a fight, but Vasili, who had caught up with me, cautioned, “The exits are covered. They won’t go far. Let’s not create a spectacle.”

My mind raced. Vasili made a good argument, but that meant allowing Roger to walk out of here with my Blanche, and that I couldn’t do.

Vasili had been my friend for the past several hundred years, but he didn’t know anything about Blanche and me and our feelings for one another. “No can do.” I informed Roger in a cold tone. He had taken her once from he, he would never do so again.

Next to me, Vasili cursed, having no trouble catching on to the tone of my voice, having heard it often enough, right before shit usually hit the fan.

“In case I wasn’t clear, we will shoot up the entire club.” Roger narrowed his eyes at me.

“In case I wasn’t clear, I don’t give a fuck,” I replied, keeping a hard hold on Blanche’s hand as she tried to pull it back. I would wipe the surviving humans’ minds clean, not leaving them with any memory of a battle between demons and vampires. I didn’t care that the cops would be stuck with an unexplainable bloodbath. That wasn’t my problem. Only Blanche mattered to me.

“No, please. I don’t want anybody to get hurt because of me,” she begged and I sighed, remembering her good heart and realizing I would lose this particular battle of mind.

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