Page 79 of Bad Demon

Oh gods, he’s real.

He’d come for me.

“Who did this to you, baby? Tell me who I need to kill,” he growled.

I couldn’t say his name, not yet. My mouth refused to form the words.

“Hold me tighter,” I said instead. “I need you to hold me tighter.”

His arms curled around me even more firmly, trapping me against him, like a warm, violent, protective cocoon.

Right then, at that moment, I was safe.

I let my eyes drift closed, and consciousness slipped away.

ChapterTwenty

RELIC

Brick openedthe door to the truck, and I climbed out, holding an unconscious Fern against me.

He jogged ahead to the clubhouse to open the door for us, and I strode through, Fern still limp in my arms. They’d pulled out all her fucking teeth; they’d cut her open. Fuck knew what else. Fear and burning rage pumped hotly through my veins, making me shake.

Lothar and Jag had stayed behind to search the rest of the building, but I already knew they wouldn’t find whoever it was who’d hurt my Fern. They’d stood back while we slaughtered their little army of freaks. We were dealing with a twisted coward who’d run while they had the chance.

I held Tinker Bell close to me, reassuring myself that she was okay with the sound of her heart beating. I pressed my lips to her forehead. Her skin was too fucking hot though. Demons didn’t get sick, not like this. Demons who fed on blood could suffer from weakness and wasting if they’d been starved, but not whatever the fuck this was, and definitely not a fever. Yeah, she had witch blood, but the demon DNA in her was strong, predominant—I could feel it. This should be impossible.

Holding her to me tight with one arm, I let us into my den and closed us in together.

I stared down at her. Fuck, I didn’t want to put her down, but I needed to clean the blood and gore off her because the stench of those creatures all over her had my body poised to shift. Striding to the bathroom, I turned on the shower and waited for the water to heat up.

“Need to clean this shit off you, Tink,” I said, even though she was still unconscious. I tried not to freak the fuck out about that, but it wasn’t easy.

Fern was immortal; she should start healing. She should already be showing signs of improvement, but I didn’t see it, not yet. If Fern didn’t wake soon, I was calling in a healer.

Repositioning Fern’s limp body, I let the blanket fall and lifted my leather vest off her. Blood was smeared all over her naked body, and I searched her for further injury. Shifting her in my arms, I hissed when I saw a sigil carved into her stomach beside the new fucking scar, long and jagged. Forcing myself to take a breath, I grabbed my phone from my pocket and took a picture of the sigil. It could help us find the fucker who had done this to her, and I needed all the help I could get.

It took some doing, but I kicked off my boots and managed to get my jeans off with one hand, before stepping into the shower. Fern whimpered and rolled into me, trying to avoid the spray, but she still didn’t wake, didn’t open her eyes.

“It’s okay, baby. Just gonna clean you up.” I talked to her anyway because it soothed the beast, and I hoped like fuck that it soothed Fern as well.

I lathered her up with soap, gently cleaning the blood off with a washcloth. It was too late for the scar below her ribs. I could smell salt. That fucker had rubbed it into the slice. There was no getting rid of it now, but the sigil looked fresh, raw, no salt. That one, at least, I could do something about, and I wanted it gone right the fuck now. Yanking a towel from the rail, I slid to the shower floor, and balling it under her head, I lay her down.

“Gonna make it better, baby,” I rasped.

Then I proceeded to lick those slices in her skin as gently as I could, cleaning them thoroughly and letting my saliva start the healing process since hers hadn’t kicked in yet for some fucking reason, and mine was faster and more potent.

That twisted fuck had done this. He’d tied her down and carved into her with a knife. When she woke, I didn’t want her to be forced to see it.

The skin started puckering around the edges of the wound almost immediately, which meant the healing had begun. I finally felt like I could breathe.

I stayed on the floor, pulling her between my legs so her head was against my chest, and washed her hair.

She whimpered again as I wrung out the last of the shampoo.

“All done, sweetness.”

Scooping her back up, I stood and switched off the water. Quickly drying her, I carried her out and forced myself to lay her on the bed. The beast snarled the whole time I wasn’t touching her, but with her on the bed, I could see every single scar on her body and all the obvious new ones. Like the rest on her body, they’d been done on purpose. He’d used salt and magic. He’d wanted to scar her body.

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