Page 15 of Bad Demon

I looked down at the little handmaid, who had somehow hung on to all that sweetness despite how old she was and what she did for Lucifer, and grinned. “Haven’t been called Scrappy in a while, Rox.”

She smiled. “You’ll always be my Scrappy.”

I leaned in. “Don’t tell Urs, but you’re my favorite as well.”

She wrapped her arms around me and gave me a tight hug; she knew how much hounds craved contact, and she gave me what I needed—affection without expectation.

I planted a kiss on top of her head. “Don’t ever change, Rox.”

She looked up at me. “Promise.”

Then she looked at Loth, and bit her lip. She had a thing for him—had for a really fucking long time—but as far as I could tell, nothing had ever come of it.

“Do you wanna hang out tonight, Loth?” she asked, sounding breathless.

Lothar pulled her from my arms and took his own hug, and I knew it was to cushion his rejection. “Would love to, sweetheart, but I already got plans. You have fun though, yeah?”

He kind of screwed up his face, gave her a quick pat on the back, then walked away. Rox watched him go, her smile slipping when she saw the she-wolf standing just inside the door waiting for him. Loth and Asher, an alpha female from the Silver Claw Pack, were friends. He’d helped her build her bike, and they hung out a lot, but I didn’t think it was more than that.

Rox turned back to me when they disappeared through the clubhouse doors. “Did you know Lothar named you?” she said, surprising me.

“He did?”

Lothar had never told me that.

She nodded. “He argued with Lucifer and everything. Said he sired you, that he should get a say.” She grinned up at me. “He said he chose Relic because, one day, others would look back on your creation with reverence, that you would be of historical significance as the first hound born, not made.”

“I never knew. We don’t talk about that time.”

Her gaze slid back to the doors he’d walked through. “He used to come and check on you when you were a tiny pup. He’d watch you sleep with this … look on his face. I’d never seen it on him before, and I’ve never seen it since.” She looked back at me, her smile soft. “And when you got a little bigger, he’d wrestle with you on the floor and bring you meat he’d caught himself. I think he was feeling things he never had before.” She chewed her lip. “It was a confusing time for him.”

I didn’t know what to say. I had no idea. None.

Then Fender was there, our brother grabbing her hand and getting his own hug. She waved to me as she was led away.

I sipped my beer, scanning the room. Lucifer was already surrounded by females while a scowling Ursula stood beside him, Mini in her arms. I lifted a hand, and the handmaid gave me a chin lift.

I should stay. Lucifer was here, and it’d be rude to leave, but the beast was restless—that dominant part of me wasn’t enjoying the confines of this room right now. There was this feeling in my chest, so tight and persistent, that I couldn’t keep my feet planted to the spot even if I wanted to. So, I left the clubhouse and headed for my bike, the destination cemented firmly in my brain.

This was a mistake. I should stay the fuck away, but the call to go back—the driving need of the beast to seek out that little demon—was far too intense to resist. A hound never ignored their instincts. Ever.

It seemed to take forever to reach Roxburgh, especially with the beast rumbling in my chest the entire way.

Finally, I parked my bike, kicked down the stand, and swung off.

I stared down the street at the closed door to Malicious Brew.

Zinnia would be pissed if she knew I’d come back here, but I couldn’t get the witch’s words out of my fucking head—that I’d scared the little demon, harassed her, that I’d almost made her cry. That shit did not sit right with me, not at all, but I also didn’t want to terrify her even more.

Which meant I was standing in the middle of the street with my dick in my hand like a fucking moron, not sure what to do.

Fucking move.

Growling at myself, I headed down the street toward the store we’d visited earlier that day. It was late on Saturday night, but the bars and clubs were a couple of streets over, which meant this street was dead. She probably wouldn’t even be here.

Still, I ran through the list of movies Willow had played for us, desperate for help, for the words that would make what I had done right, but nothing came to me. How did you apologize for terrifying someone—someone who wanted you to keep the fuck away from them—without freaking them out even more?

The door to the store opened ahead of me—

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