Page 8 of Torn Between Two Worlds

Smiling, Demarcus took a shot at his pride. “Geez, get over it, dude. Piece of ass notwithstanding, move the fuck on. Whatever the hell is going on, she doesn't like you, deal with it.”

Stryder was up with his hand around his brother's throat before he could really comprehend how much the comment, and his reaction to it, bugged him. “You will shut up right here and now, or we will find out who really is superior between Death and War. We are capable enough to make the decision without the real horsemen.”

“Actually, the idea is, he's the strongest of us because Death is the end of us all,” said Jameson, Pestilence's apprentice, with a smirk.

“Ya’ know what, Pest, maybe I'm choking the wrong brother.”

A laugh from behind the three had them all turning, and Stryder felt his blood run hot when he saw the man in the trench coat smirking at them all. “No, I believe either of them would be the appropriate brother, War.”

Launching across the counter, Stryder reached out to grab the man in the trench coat's face, to slam it down into the bar. Sadly, he only fisted at the air.

“Now, now, War. Did you really think if I were to be the one in charge of seeing that the most powerful Word Speaker in centuries makes it to her twenty-seventh birthday that you would be able to keep up with me? I mean the bravado is there, but the brains appear to be lacking.”

Seeing red, Stryder knew his fangs were sliding out and his eyes were turning black as his demon slipped out, little by little, in his anger. He clenched his fists so tightly, his knuckles quickly turned white. “I do not use that name. I am not him. I appreciate the distinction, as I'm not an entirely bloodthirsty, evil fuck. Thank you very much.”

His brothers and he had long ago decided to never assimilate to those names. They had been merely trained seconds, nearly as strong and capable, but not carbon copies. If they used them, every cock-sucking demon wandered up to them and every human ran screaming. Not a fun life when they couldn't do a damn thing without both heaven and hell agreeing to it, and then they were just pawns to whichever side claimed them first. Supposedly, though, it would be hell because the angels had humans to fight with them, and the demons had no one. So they weren't the real deal, not really, since the offer was that, with their mixed blood, Heaven or Hell could use them in the meantime, not just Hell.

“I don’t know who the hell you are, but I need to see her now!” More infuriating than the bastard’s speed was the chuckle he kept uttering.

“My, Stryder, she really ruffled your feathers.” Smiling big, he walked over and put his hand on Stryder’s shoulder. “Good. I needed to know that. I don’t have the slightest clue how she was able to do that. How she was strong enough to shut the doorway. Pretty damn impressive at her age though.”

Stryder stared at him. Just fucking stared.This was crazy.The whole damned situation. Guardians, and being a fictitious book character, and doorways and guarding people. He was talking to some kind of cryptic nut job extraordinaire. Grabbing a shot out of someone’s hand, he tossed it back, letting the tequila slide down his throat. His eyes flashed solid black when the idiot was stupid enough to say something to him about taking the shot, which quickly squashed the look and comments. The guy nearly tripped over his chair as he jumped out of it.

Humans.Correction,humans from books.Fuck this is a damn trip.

The guy in the trench coat rolled his eyes at the entire interaction, and Stryder was slammed down into a chair. “Listen, and listen well, second in command. She is important. Too important for a potential fuck up. We’re going to see her, and you’re going to convince her to keep your pathetic ass around and move on from Alcott because you’re the first and strongest person she's connected with in years. If you can't make that happen, there will be one less Horseman. She picked you, and that means only you, so whatever you said or did to piss her off, you will fix it.” In the blink of an eye, the man was gone.

Stryder had been about to point out that Ciara didn't seem to want to be connected to him, but he didn't have a chance.

Stryder felt a slight weight lift off of his chest, and he was able to stand up out of the chair. Pissed that his brothers hadn’t lifted a finger to help him, he turned to rip into them, but they were frozen. Absolutely frozen in place. The whole damned bar was, and he still couldn’t see where that bastard had gone.

“You have five minutes, War,” the voice sneered. “Five minutes, and then we are going to pay her a visit.”

Stryder whipped around and saw nothing.

“Oh, and War, in that time, do something about that hard on. She isn’t going to want to be greeted with that shit.”

Stryder heard the annoying chuckle in the silence before the sounds of the bar crashed back over him. “Fuck!”Five minutes,he thought.Five minutes.Turning with a shit-eating grin to his brothers, he said, “I’m to get that girl, boys.” Walking toward the bathroom, he felt very smug. As soon as he took care of himself, he was going to show her the penalty for rejecting War's protégé. A little tough love in the bedroom had all women begging.

Pushing open the bathroom door, he let out a growl. “If anyone is in here, get the fuck out. This is War's second speaking, and I need and want you out now!” His eyes were glowing black in a warning, a small, lesser demon fled from a stall with his pants around his ankles, causing Stryder to smirk.

Walking into one of the stalls, he closed the door, even though the lesser demon would spread the word to stay out. He allowed himself to fully remember everything about her; how she felt tucked against his chest, her eyes wet with tears and skin flushed.Gods.He could smell her shampoo, lilac and vanilla touched his nose, even though it wasn’t real. He could feel the tears hitting his arm as she cried over someone he could not see. It almost ruined the moment, but he thought of her breasts crushed against his chest, her body rubbing against his as he had walked up the stairs, and he was harder than ever.

Finally, he got the visual just right, just where he needed it. As he unzipped his pants, it was her small hands sliding the zipper down in his mind. She was the one releasing his throbbing cock from the pants and boxers into his hands. He wished he couldn’t feel his war calluses because it was ripping him out of the fantasy. In his mind, she was looking up at him, into his eyes, licking her lower lip and then nibbling on the bottom as she reached down to take his hard length in her hand.

His hand moved up and down his cock, gripping and tugging as he pictured her hands doing the work. Grabbing his balls with his left hand, he continued to pump himself with his right, groaning and straining as he pretended her tongue flicked across his wet head and sucked him deep into her throat.

His fingers gripped hard, squeezing and working his thick length while his mind felt her mouth, hot and wet around him.

Bucking his body into the hand that he was pretending was hers, he moaned aloud. Growling as he came, he silently cursed that it was not actually her as he pulled his pants back up and checked his watch.

“One minute left. Damn if she’s that good when I get her in bed, she’s never getting out of it.”

He quickly washed up, not wasting more than twenty seconds, then rubbing a hand over his face, he pushed open the door and growled. “Where the fuck am I, you bastard?”

The bar was gone. He was in what had to be the opposite of purgatory. Everything was white, but an out of focus, blurry, kind of white with colors swirling through it. He knew he was on solid ground, but he damned sure couldn’t see it for the layer of fog that covered his feet.

“Well, you bastard? Where the hell am I? Fuck, where the hell are you?” He was losing his temper, and he could feel his demon form shifting to the surface. He didn’t want to greet Ciara like that. She’d run screaming, despite what she was used to seeing.

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