Page 55 of A Sip of Sin

The last time he’d seen something like this, his gut had curled with enough rage that he could have murdered a thousand just to rid himself of the demon. Now there was terror laced through him, sweat curling in his damp palms.

“What should I call you?” asked Munro, putting space between them. He loathed to be any farther from Hollen than he had to, but demons were quick. They could strike and kill a vampire before he could react, burning his flesh or merely stripping away his will.

There were others that hated demons, too—the fae, the weres—even some of the more elusive kinds who had come into contact with them at some point during history. None of them stood a chance against the inky darkness and a power that was so close to the lost world of magic.

Vampires were the only ones who had ever been able to contain one.With help.It was not a feat that he or any of his brethren would be able to attempt unless the demon was weak to begin with.

“Hmm.” The demon tapped his chin, a smirk on his face. Hollen’s features had twisted, going sharp as he was slowly lost.How far gone was he? Was it already too late?“Don’t you recognize me,Covi? You used to call me Gorgo.”

Munro drew back, nearly stumbling into his son Erie, who had rushed from his lovers to be at his side. Erie had resisted at first until Munro had told him about Hollen—about the demon. Erie had only been alive a decade or two when he’d had his first run-in with one, and he’d nearly lost an eye. He had escaped with his life, but his chest had been left with massive black scars that stretched from shoulder to hip.

“It can’t be.” Munro drew his hand over his lips, darting his gaze up and down. “That’s impossible.”

He remembered the night clearly from centuries before and the heat from the fires as the cities burned. Most of his family had fallen, others strew about the flickering alleys, barely alive but not stirring. The magician at his back had kept himself hidden until the demon had stepped straight into the trap. He could still hear the screams when he closed his eyes.

“We bound you to the lowest creature on that street,” said Munro, his hackles rising as he approached. His self-preservation had no place now.

“A flea.” The demon rolled his eyes, keeping his hands to his sides, even as Munro wrapped a hand around his neck. “You should have squashed me when you had the chance.”

His smile fell, darkness seeping into the yellow of his eyes. “Instead, I had to watch you drain the only person who could have saved me from that fate. Do you know what it’s like, flitting from creature to creature and barely clinging to life for centuries?” The demon growled low in his throat. “But magic has a funny sense of humor.” A smirk spread over the demon’s face. “Once I met Hollen, I knew I had a chance again. Hetastedlike magic. Even now he’s saturated in it.”

Munro scowled as the demon licked his lips, saliva shining against the dark tattoos. He’d known Gorgo when that hadn’t been his name at all and when his skin had been nearly blank. Every time they’d met, the stories on his skin had spread. There was a time when that had lulled—when Munro had believed Gorgo was capable of something more. But it didn’t take long for that dream to spark into ashes.

“Hollen found me lashed to the heart of a cat and living on city scraps and whatever small creatures I could catch. My claws were blunt and stilted—nothing compared to what I am now. Hollen couldn’t have been a better match.” He flexed his hands as his nails elongated into sharp points before caressing softly over the front of his shirt.

“Gorgo.” Munro spat the word before wiping his hand over his mouth, trying to rid himself of the taste. The air was thick with tension and unstruck blows, Erie vibrating next to him with the same suppressed anger as his. Munro could feel the wrath of it pumping beneath his skin.

Erie had been one of the only ones to survive that time, pledging himself to Munro as the final embers burnt away. He was certainly the only witness to Munro’s prime mistake.

“Yes?” George smiled, his yellow eyes blowing wide. “I’ve always liked that name the best. Although, I’m quite partial to George as well. Hollen and I are the closest of paramours you see, and he can call me whatever he likes.”

“Leave Hollen be.” Munro stood to his full height. There were so many at his back, but they were useless compared to a demon. Even Erie was on edge, fur clinging to his shirt in milky tendrils.

“You’re killing him.” Munro tried to keep the edge of pleading out of his voice. “He deserves better than you—than this. He’s already become so weak—.”

“I’m not.” George suddenly turned serious, all bits of humor and smirks disappearing. “I’m not killing him. I would protect Hollen with everything I have.”

Munro blinked, shaking off the manipulation. A mind was never safe in the hands of a demon. “You know the only way this ends.”

An image of Hollen’s lifeless body flashed through his mind. There would only be a husk left—nothing real except the deadened heart that would slowly turn to dust. But from that dust, George would rise.

It should have been impossible with Gorgo’s strength ripped from him at the hands of a magician.But somehow…

A frown tugged at George’s lips, the tattoos paling on his skin. “You can stop the posturing now, Munro. I offered to leave, butHollen wants me to stay. There is nothing you can do against a soul given willingly.”

“Impossible.” Munro tightened his grip, shaking George by his throat. “Release him.”

George let out a laugh filled with darkness and wrath. “No.”

A blink and yellow was suddenly green, the darkness and markings of Gorgo retreating as if they had never been there. Tight limbs turned soft as hands grasped at Munro, scratching at his stranglehold.

Hollen gasped, tears tipping over his eyelids to track down his cheeks.

“Munro?” His strangled voice cracked, trembling in fear as he tried to breathe.

Munro dropped his hand so quickly that Hollen nearly hit the floor, rocking back against the solid frame of the door. He started to crumple, but Munro closed the distance in an instant, wrapping Hollen in his arms and pulling him tight. Tears soaked into his shirt, mingling with sweat as Hollen sobbed.

The scent of those tears carved a hole straight through Munro’s chest. With Hollen’s natural scent, they were amidst a thunderstorm, coating the air with rain tinted by blood.

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