Page 19 of Martyr

“This isn’t happening.”

“No need to be ashamed,” he told him. “This is just a physical reaction, Nix. It’s just your body responding to stimulation. I mean, sure, I’m the one who can make you feelthis way, and you’re currently not my biggest fan, but that’s hardly something to cry about.”

Nix froze.

West grinned at him, the wicked gleam in his eyes sending a wave of dread coursing through Nix’s entire body. “You remember how into that I am. I’m touched.”

He’d made a stupid promise back on campus a couple of days ago. West had cornered him, and Nix had been late for class, so he’d agreed to the Demon's terms since there’d been no other option.

“You aren’t giving me a choice,” he accused, but he sounded pathetic even to his own ears. Nix squeezed his eyes shut. “Why does everyone think they have the right to play with me?”

His cousin had tricked him and used him every bit as much as the Demons were. He wondered what other things Branwen had gotten him to do in the past. How many of his memories of their time together were accurate?

Had the time they’d snuck out to night swim really been his idea, or had it been hers?

When he’d taken the blame for breaking their uncle's medal, and Branwen had thanked him after, had she meant it?

Or had she expected him to do that all long?

“Hey.” West pressed against his wound so hard he cried out, eyes popping open. “I don’t like competing with people, especially people who aren’t even here. You’ll give me your all when you’re with me, Nixie.”

“Or what?” Clearly, he had a death wish.

West pulled away from him all at once, even leaving the bed.

Nix blinked up at the space where his face had been only a moment before, then sat up, watching as the Demon wentstraight to one of the built-in shelves. There was the sound of clinking, but he couldn’t see around him. “What are you doing?”

“For the record,” West called over his shoulder, obviously ignoring him, “everyone does not have the right to play with you. Just us. If anyone else tries to do anything to you that you don’t like or want, call me. I’ll tear them apart in front of you for even daring to.”

“That’s…not as comforting as I think you mean for it to be.” But it was oddly sweet. At least he care—

No.

No, what the hell was wrong with him?

Nix was delusional. The Demons didn’t care about him, especially not West.

He braced himself when West turned and started walking back over. “I don’t want to play with you either. Why can’t you find someone else who’s interested?”

“I don’t own anyone else,” he stated, as if that was the most normal thing to say. “Believe it or not.”

“You could.”

“Oh?” He grunted. “Trying to pass off your bad deal to someone else, Nixie? Didn’t take you as that sort of person.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.”

“I’m attracted to you,” West told him. “I think you’re hot, and I like your brain. I like your ass too. It’s tight. And warm. I want to fill it up and see how much it can take.”

“How much of what?” Why did he have a bad feeling about this? Nix curled his legs up to his chest protectively and glanced at the thing in West’s hand. “What is that?”

“This?” He shook it and held it out so he could see. The black canister was instantly recognizable. “Compressed air.”

“A duster?” Nix frowned, honestly blanking. There was a wide opening at the top of the can, the spout narrowing somewhat. Inside that part, there were grooves sointerchangeable heads could be applied. Nix had one himself back at his home, but he couldn’t for the life of him guess what West planned on cleaning now, and another look showed the man hadn’t brought any of the nozzles over with him. “Why?”

“Hands up,” West commanded. “You see the rungs? Grab onto them.”

Nix glanced over his shoulder at the headboard, noticing several metal poles that attached from one side to the other. “You can’t be serious?”

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