Page 59 of My Demon Mate

With the news that Everest has left town, no one will suspect him of the murder.

When Everest tells me it is time, we make our way to the edge of town. We leave my car about a mile down the road and walk the rest of the way through the woods. As a demon, I have innate tracking skills, so I make sure not to get us lost as we trek to the cabin.

While we walk, Everest leans into me, holding on to my arm. “Why can’t the woods here look like the ones in Xendail?”

I pat his hand. “Because this is a regular world. Xendail is not. Since we are demons, we have the gift of magic and other supernatural abilities. We can make our world as we want, and Xendail is the ideal world.”

“It’s perfect,” he mutters, a smile in his voice. “These woods look dark and ominous. Like they’d swallow me up if given half the chance. Walking around in Xendail at night, the woods look welcoming and inviting. They make me feel like they’d be happy if I wanted to camp out under them and bask in their beauty forever.”

“I am glad you love my home. It will be your home too.”

Before we left for Xendail for two weeks, we packed everything Everest wanted to take with him—namely his art supplies and his mother’s urn—and I transported them to my home before I came back for him. We set him up an art room in my treehouse, overlooking the valley behind my home. When he visited the first time, he told me how much he liked how the light shone in on the desk I had set up there. His mother’s urn went on the mantle in my sitting room, right beside the portrait he drew of me.

As of right now, all that is keeping us on this plane is our need to get revenge on everyone that hurt Everest. After we kill the sheriff, we have one more person to dispatch before our mission is complete.

“It’s my home now,” Everest says in a serious tone. “Not only because of how welcome I feel, but because you’re there.”

I fucking love him.

A few minutes later, the cabin comes into view, and we see the sheriff sitting on the porch in a rocking chair. He is whistling an annoying tune as he widdles a stick with a knife.

“Fucking hick,” Everest mutters, his lip pulled back in anger. His hand goes to his shoulder without thought, and I want to kill the sheriff many times over for what he did to my Everest.

Twenty minutes roll by before Sheriff Drake retires inside. After a few minutes, I take Everest’s hand, and we walk up the two steps of the porch.

“Wait here,” I whisper so as not to alert Sheriff Drake of our arrival. “When I have him subdued, I will call you in.”

Everest nods, kissing me lightly. “I’ll be ready.”

Taking two steps back, I raise my foot and kick the door in. It splinters off the hinges, flying back into the room. It barely misses the sheriff, who is sitting in a recliner near where the door made impact.

He scrambles back, the newspaper he was reading crumpled at his feet. Crab-walking backwards, Sheriff Drake looks at me with wide eyes as I stroll towards him. They flash with recognition but the fear remains. When his back hits the wall, he stops trying to scurry away and juts his chin out.

I have to admire his courage in the face of what will be the last face he will ever see. But his courage does not mean shit when he hurt my love.

In a warbly voice he tries to harden, he asks, “Do you know who the fuck I am? I’m the sheriff of this fucking town. If you know what’s good for you, boy, you’d walk on out of here. Right fucking now.”

Chuckling darkly, I get down on my haunches and stare at him, head tilted to the side. “Boy? I am almost eight hundred years old. You are more a boy than I.”

His eyes bug out as he takes me in, lips trembling with fear. “What the fuck are you?”

I reach up and feel my horns. I am glad they are visible. I love the terror etched on his face. “I am a demon from the third dimension of hell. You fucked with my mate. You are going to die tonight.”

“Y-y-your mate? Who the hell is your mate?”

Smiling, I call over my shoulder, “You can come on in, baby.”

Everest steps inside, and the sheriff eyes him in disbelief. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Why?” Everest asks, voice hard and sexy as fuck. I love this new found courage he has. “Because you thought you ran me out of town by beating my ass? Guess again, motherfucker.”

“I should have killed you!” Drake shouts, shaking his finger at Everest.

Everest laughs loudly. “Yeah, you probably should have. You’ll never get that chance again.” He looks at me and nods once.

I snap my fingers and a long blade appears in my palm. Grabbing Sheriff Drake by the front of his shirt before he can move, I lift him until his feet barely skim the floor. He raises his fist to punch me, but before he can make contact, I stab the knife forward, impaling his fist to the wall.

Sheriff Drake screams, his face paling as he tries to dislodge the blade. When he tries to open his fist, his fingers split, causing blood to pour rapidly from his impaled hand.

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