Page 32 of Guarded By the Nightmare

“At first I thought he merely liked Italian food,” Sylas went on, as I started stomping out the burning cushion with my boot. “But if I had known what was in his mind before the end, my queen, I would’ve made his death take even longer.”

I looked up at him. “What?”

“I told you I would read the thoughts of the next man I killed. And you did not tell me not to, so,” he said, with a casual shrug, like we both currently wouldn’t look like Satanic emoji enthusiasts to an untrained eye.

And then his attention lingered on me, just like I knew it would, if he knew any part of what had happened.

Oh God—he’d read Nolan’s mind next.

“Stop that,” I told him.

“What?” he asked.

“You know what.” I stomped the smoking cushion with renewed purpose. “I wouldn’t have even known about you if I hadn’t given blow jobs to him, so get off your high horse, Mister.”

“Seeing as I can fly, I do not need to ride a horse,” he said solemnly, and I glanced over, unable to tell whether he was being truthful or trying to be funny again, till he continued. “And I gathered that many of your classmates think dark things about you, my queen.”

“You could say that,” I agreed, as the fire finally went out, leaving goopy remnants of plastic stuck to the bottom of my shoe.

“So you might as well give them a reason to.”

I straightened and looked at him. He was far more interested in looking me in the eyes than at my chest. I appreciated that, then realized how sad that was.

What was that joke about the bar for men being so low it’s in hell?

Maybe that’s why it was easier for a demon—or whatever the fuck Sylas was—to surmount it, because it was there all the time.

“Look, I appreciate this,” I said, gesturing to what remained of Brad, “but, you’ve gotta get rid of it. It’s artistic as fuck, but it’ll just pull attention from what I’m trying to do, elsewhere.”

“Understood,” Sylas said, and it all disappeared.

“Did you, uh, get enough to eat?” I put my hands into the pockets of my jeans and rocked back and forth.

“I did, for now,” he said, lowering himself in size, until he wasn’t too much taller than I was and I didn’t have to look up so hard to see him. “Have you?” he asked, cordially.

I realized I hadn’t eaten a single thing today—other than that lick of Logan earlier in the evening. “Not really.”

“Is there someplace we can go to, then, that you might?”

I inhaled, suddenly unable to speak or move from the spot I was on.

It could’ve been the fact that someone who’d just shown me the slices of a man’s liver was asking if I was hungry, and the moment was too Hannibal Lecter to bear—or it was the fact that I couldn’t imagine someone being kind to me, without having an ulterior motive.

Like hurting me, or my best friend, or taking advantage of my situation.

But Sylas was merely hovering there, calmly waiting for me to make up my mind.

Being nice to me?

No.

It was pity—an emotion I was quite familiar with receiving, from how everyone treated me after my parents had died.

And I didn’t want that from him—or from anyone.

It was one of the reasons I wanted to be in control and have power now, so I didn’t have to tolerate anyone feeling sorry for me, ever again.

So I held up a finger before I spoke next. “Just so we’re clear though,” I said, “I would’ve sucked a thousand dicks if it would stand Ella up from her hospital bed.”

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