Page 28 of Bad Demon

Oliver stumbled to his feet, and a moment later, he was gone, disappearing into the crowd. I turned back to the hound. This wasn’t good. This was the absolute fucking opposite of good. Somehow, I’d caught the attention of one of Lucifer’s pet beasts, and he’d decided I was the toy he wanted to snatch up in his jaw and toss around for his own entertainment.

Our gazes still locked, I stood slowly. His chest was rising and falling heavily, and his eyes were glowing. I took a step back, and he took one forward. Not closing the space between us, staying the same distance away. Everything in me screamed that I needed to run, like I had earlier, but I knew that was the worst thing I could do. For some reason, my getting close to Oliver had awakened the beast in him, and I didn’t want to find out what would happen this time when he caught me—because he would catch me.

Keeping my movements slow and measured, I backed up several more steps. He took several toward me.

Fuck. Breathe, Fern. Turn slowly and leave. Walk. Don’t run.

Taking another steadying breath, I turned, and keeping my steps unhurried, I made my way to the exit. Another burly male opened the door for me, and I walked out, then up the stairs. I tried not to, but when I reached the top and heard the now-familiar sound of his heavy boots, I turned back. He was at the bottom of the stairs, unmoving again, stopping because I had.

If anything, he was breathing even more heavily now.

“You don’t need to walk me home, hound,” I said, trying to assert some authority in my voice.

He growled. No words, just a guttural rumbling sound echoing up the walled stairwell.

“Good talk.”

I pushed the door open and walked into the upstairs club, then rushed into the crowd. I moved quickly now, shoving my way through the people on the dance floor and out the other side.

When I hit the pavement, I sucked in the cool night air and headed briskly down the street. I glanced back as he walked out.

Don’t run. Do not run.

This street was busy and had a lot of bars and clubs, but when I rounded the corner, it was instantly quieter. The soft thud of my boots, followed by the heavy thump of the hound’s, were the only sounds around me. The tension inside me was climbing higher and higher until I was ready to jump out of my skin. I couldn’t take it. I had to do something. Stopping suddenly, I spun around. The hound stopped as well, watching me, waiting.

Getting to know your tormentor, abuser, torturer—sharing details, pretending you cared—could save your life. I knew that firsthand, and it was all I had right then.

“What’s your name? If you’re going to follow me everywhere, I should at least know your name.” My nerves were fucking choking me. My fingers tapped against the side of my thigh.One, two, three, four. Four, three, two, one.Over and over again.

His nostrils flared, that massive chest expanding. “Relic,” he said on a rough exhale.

“Well, Relic, you’ve done your job; you’ve kept me safe. I appreciate it. Thank you. So, how about we let bygones be bygones, okay? You can leave now. I’m good from h—”

“Drink my blood. You need blood. You’re hungry. I’ll feed you,” he said so deep and growly that my belly quivered.

I wrapped my arms around myself. I wasn’t drinking from that fucker. I was trying to discourage this guy, this psycho, and he wanted me to take his vein? Not fucking likely.

“Thank you,” I said cautiously. “But I’m not hungry anymore,” I lied.

“Yes, you are.”

No, I wasn’t fooling him, but it was never going to happen.

“I just want to go home and sleep.” I aimed my thumb over my shoulder. “So, I’m gonna head home, and maybe I’ll see you around sometime, yeah?” Or not. Hopefully, never again.

He said nothing.

Cool.This wasn’t fucking terrifyingat all.

If he felt bad for scaring me earlier and this was his way of making up for it, he was even more clueless than I’d thought.

I started walking, and the sound of his boots on the pavement echoed after me. I walked faster, and so did he.

Do not fucking run.

This late at night, I never used the alleyway, and the only reason I had earlier, and was about to use it again, was because I had a giant, unwanted stalker/bodyguard behind me. I rushed through it—anything to get away from this guy.

My shop was just ahead. Rummaging around in my bag, I pulled out my keys. My hand shook, and it took several tries before I managed to shove it in the door. My place was warded strongly—I’d paid a witch to do it for me, and she came back regularly to keep it that way. Still, I wasn’t sure if it was strong enough to keep this guy out or what kind of powers he had.

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