Page 5 of Their Demon

Honestly, I wasn’t surprised she was late, and I was even less surprised that I found her lips tied up with Aiden’s.

I wasn’t jealous, not really. I was happy for her… in a weird way. Lillian took to the twins fast, and vice versa. I was glad she had someone—well,someones—to take care of her. She was in good hands. Unfortunately, those hands never left her body.

We’d failed her, though. We were supposed to keep her hidden and safe from our father and his wrath, but he found out about her anyway. If only Lillian hadn’t gotten so sick, we never would’ve invited our mother to help.

I’d known better than to trust her. She’d proven time and time again that she’d always side with our father over us, but desperate times called for desperate measures. I would’ve done anything to make sure Lillian was okay. Luckily, even if she did out us to our father, Mother proved helpful when it came to healing Lillian.

The twins were more than eager to participate in the essence exchange. That sort of thing was usually performed between demons—not demons and a human—with a marital-type bond or destined loves, but apparently, it was the only thing that could save Lillian’s life. With the essence of each twin running through her body, she was perfectly healthy.

Thank Satan they all had such strong feelings for each other.

Love.

What a strange thing, to feel something so strong for someone that you would give part of yourself to save them. No matter my feelings aboutthatpeculiar emotion, I was grateful for Lillian’s speedy recovery. One essence, and she was great. With the second essence, she was radiant. She obviously didn’t need a third, as our mother had speculated.

I’d felt bad that the three of them didn’t get to bask in the meaningful act they’d shared, but it wasn’t like our father called before his visit.

He’d been furious, but I was surprised he’d held himself back the way he did. I expected him to rush in and kill her, making us watch the horrible display as punishment for defying him. Instead, he was cold and calculated, presenting us with false hope.

Lillian becoming a demon?

The trials would surely kill her, but it did buy us time to figure something out. We’d find a way to save her and keep her safe this time.

Using my grip on her wrist, I spun her around to face me. We stood on the black sea of thin, cushioned mats I’d placed along the floor to cushion her body for when she would fall. The last thing I wanted was for her to get hurt before the trials even began.

She watched me with careful eyes, and the stray hairs falling out of her ponytail to frame her face were making her even more picturesque than she usually was. It was distracting. I couldn’t be distracted right now.

“Punch me,” I ordered, not wasting any time. I needed to see what I was working with.

Lillian had been tiny and frail when we’d brought her to Hell, but she was filling out now that she was being cared for and fed properly. The twins made a point to tell me her breasts had grown too, and now, looking at her in her little tank top, I could sure fucking tell.

Lillian cleared her throat, and I realized I’d been staring at her chest a little too long. I hated it when she noticed me staring. It made me feel weak and vulnerable. I also knew it gave her hope for… us.

I shook it off and repeated my demand. “Punch me.”

Her forehead scrunched, and her lips pressed together. “Yeah, I know what you said. I heard it the first time. I want to know why.”

“I want to see what I’m working with, princess.” I grabbed her wrists and put her fists up in front of her. “Now, punch me.”

“What if I hurt you?” She looked dead serious.

I laughed hard enough that she cracked a smile. “You could punch me as hard as you possibly can, and you still wouldn’t hurt me. I promise.” I winked at her. “I won’t repeat myself, though. Punch me,” I said more sternly.

Lillian rolled her shoulders and stretched her hands. After rolling her fists around for a few seconds, she punched me square in the chest.

“Motherfucker,” she exclaimed as she shook her hand out. “That fucking hurt!”

It was hard to keep the grin from my face, and I knew I’d failed when her eyes narrowed at me. It was evident she did not like me finding humor in her pain one bit.

“Hold up your fists,” I said softly.

She did as I’d requested, and I took her hand in mine, inspecting her knuckles to ensure she hadn’t damaged them too badly. She was fine; there was just mild bruising. I brushed my thumb over her knuckles again, relishing the small touch I was allowing myself.

Her breath hitched, and I immediately dropped her hand, hoping she wouldn’t say anything about it. I didn’t want to have this argument with her again. She knew where I stood. She would not be mine, and I would not be hers.

“Your knuckles will be okay. Ice them after we finish, and they’ll feel better.” She nodded, still staring at me curiously, stuck on what had just transpired. “You held your hand wrong. Don’t hold your thumb to the side. It’s too loose like that.” I held my fist up, demonstrating how I wanted her to hold her hand. “Tuck your thumb over your fingers like this and keep it tight.”

She did as I showed her and balled up her fist, placing her thumb over her other fingers this time. Pride welled in my chest over the small success.

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