Page 44 of Demon Rejected

“You know I can’t. I’m good at combat and weapons, have some faith, okay?"

“Don’t go all Rambo in there, please."

“Who is Rambo?"

Ziggy smiled and ruffled my hair. “I’m an old man with a weak heart. I can’t stand strong emotions. Please think about that." Ziggy started pressing on his chest and faking a heart attack.

“You’re not an old man. I’ll be on my best behavior."

“It’s your first mission, and I care about you."

“You know I’m good. Otherwise, you wouldn’t want me on your team."

“I trust you, Scarlett, but I’m still allowed to worry about you."

“I need rest, old man."

I hugged Ziggy and slipped upstairs. I wanted to get to my girl Cello. She and I both needed to party, and Kyle--that cute ass son of the alpha son--invited us, or rather me, to the old mill.

Cello lay on her bed and translated an old text. She was great with ancient languages and such.

“Why aren’t you ready yet?"

Cello looked up, confused.

“Move your ass, woman. We have a party to attend."

“What party?"

“Kyle invited us to a party at the mill. I don’t know about you, but I need to get drunk and laid badly."

Cello snickered. “I don’t have anything to wear.” She stood up from the bed and was wearing a pair of jeans that didn’t do much for her figure and an old, ratty t-shirt.

“Let’s see." I opened her closet and picked around until I found what I wanted. “Here,” I said and threw a sexy, black, low-cut shirt and ink-black jeans.

“No, it’s too revealing. They’ll look at me."

“By they, you mean Kyle?"

Cello blushed. “He doesn’t see me."

“Because you look too hard in his direction. Flirt with other guys. There are a few who have a soft spot for you. Kyle will see that you are not after him and will want you more."

Cello just sat there.

“Chop, chop. I have to brush my hair. Do you have any makeup?"

I walked toward the bathroom and looked at my reflection. Matt is a prisoner somewhere and maybe even dead. No, he is not dead. There is a string that connects my heart and his. Even though it’s stretched out and frail, it’s not broken. He lives. My heart broke and bled. Still, I knew deep down he was alive. My wolf knew it. I knew it. There was nothing I could do tonight except get drunk. I stood there, looking into the mirror and watching the wolf inside me. My fingers moved without me noticing, and I grabbed a pair of scissors that lay around. It hurts so badly. I had to get that pain out of me.

Pushing the black leather jacket away, I traced my veins with the tip of the scissor. Blood is life, and my life was nothing to me.

The pain.

Pain.

That noise, the way my wolf was crying inside me, clawing at me, hurting me, throwing herself against the walls of the prison that I built for her. Sparky appeared for the first time in weeks. She stood there, sad, watching me. It was not pleasant and felt like a step back, but it was what I needed at that moment.

I cut into my skin, just below the elbow on the inside of my arm. Blood, pearly red like the wine I drank with Matt on the night I shifted, first started to garter close to the surface of my pale skin. The pain was a rush. It made my heart beat fast and my hands clammy, like before a kiss. Watching it, the cut closed as fast as I opened it, leaving a small white line instead of a scar. I’ve shifted often, and my healing is accelerated. Another slow motion with the tip of the scissor opened another cut.

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