Page 7 of Clash of Sin and Secret

Demons.

I scan the street. Pyper and her human companion are twenty feet ahead, crossing toward the Pravda Vodka Bar.

A blur of movement catches my eye. The demons emerge from the shadows, their glamors falling away to reveal grotesque features twisted with malice.

“Look out!” I sprint forward as the first demon lunges for Pyper.

The boyfriend spins and tries to step between her and danger, but takes a brutal hit that sends him sprawling. His head cracks against the pavement and he falls still.

I slam into the nearest demon, driving my fist through its chest cavity. Black ichor sprays across my face as I rip out its heart. One down.

“What the fuck, assholes? This is too public.”

Didn’t they get the memo about keeping the secrecy of the Otherworld? Demons can’t read.

Two more rush me from opposite sides. I duck under clawed hands, spinning to catch one by the throat while kicking the other in the knee.

Bone shatters. The demon howls.

It’s satisfying as hell.

“You need to fuck off before we’re all going viral on social media.”

The one in my grip thrashes, razor-sharp talons raking my arm. I squeeze until its windpipe crushes beneath my fingers.

Another group of demons flood out of a nearby alley like a wave of cockroaches. All of them have their focus locked on the woman.

I shove Pyper toward the wall as the demon charges. “Stay behind me!”

Its fist connects with my jaw, and pain explodes through my skull. A sweet rush of blood floods my mouth, but I swallow and keep moving. Vampire speed lets me dodge the next strike, and my healing will fix the damage done to my lip.

The demon with the shattered knee is back up. They coordinate, working to flank me.Not my first Darkworld battle, fuckwad. I launch into a flying kick that takes one in the chest while throwing an elbow into the other’s face.

A roar of fury cuts through the night from somewhere beyond our group. A moment later, Military Guy is launching himself into the fray. His form shifts mid-leap and his body explodes into a beast unlike any I’ve ever seen before.

Massive black wings erupt from his back as scales and talons replace his human form. He descends on the six remaining demons like divine wrath.

He’s a fucking dragon.

The dragon makes quick work of the remaining threat, leaving nothing but dissolving corpses on the street.

Holy hell. I didn’t even know dragons were real.

CHAPTER THREE

Scottie

The evening stretches on after the endless buffet smorgasbord of dinner. “The new chef is serious about impressing you, Zane.”

Zane swirls his blood-fortified wine in the round of his glass, his cheek pulled up in a half-smile. “Considering what I did to the last chef, it’s good to have Warin on his toes.”

The mention of Benoit raises my ire, and I fight not to let it sour our evening. The man was put to death by Zane—shredded to bits, actually. There’s nothing to be gained by giving him another moment’s consideration.

“Well, you can tell him that while the food was delicious, if he wants to impress me, he’ll have to add a few more baked goods to the dessert offering.”

Zane dips his chin. “I’ll pass that along.”

The conversation stalls out, the somber mood of tonight’s memorial hanging in the air between us like unfinished business. We both know there is another ceremony in our future.

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