Page 55 of Demon Kissed
Zolroth and Van just laugh as I adjust my sweater and go sit down next to Kastros, feeling overheated and needing some distance.
Because what just happened was definitely not natural. I mean, not for me anyway. Rooms don’t just fade away.
That’s got to be demon magic. I blow out a breath. I’m not quite sure how to tell Zolroth not to do that to me without offending him.
But I don’t want magic. I want love.Reallove.
Next to me, Kastros slides his beer over. I glance up at him, and he uses his head to gesture at the cup.
I take it and down it gratefully. As soon as I do, a wave of pleasant tipsiness washes over me. A wide grin stretches across my face, and I elbow Kastros. “You and me, big guy. Who can bowl better backwards?”
Kastros looks down at me and grins for the first time. Damn. He’s hot. I’m normally overwhelmed by his size and his silence. But he’s totally got a rugged thing going on with his dark hair and eyes. He holds up a fist, and at first, all I can do is stare blankly at it. Until I realize he’s waiting for me to bump it.
I do. And my fist is so incredibly tiny compared to his. He’s so big that two of his fingers probably equate to most guys’ dicks. (So I’ve read. Shut up. Fine. Okay, so I’ve watched online. Happy?)
Kastros’s bowling name “Fluffy Bunny” pops up on the screen, and he slides out of the seat next to me. He grabs a pink bowling ball, because no one could ever question his masculinity—he radiates it like a damn lumberjack—and strides up to the lane.
Then he turns around and his eyes find mine. There’s this amazing playful glint in them that I’ve never seen before as he palms the ball in one hand (I told you his hands are enormous) and then lobs it backwards on one side. He doesn’t even turn to look, but the ball goes right up the lane, just off the center, and sweeps down every pin.
I jump up on the seat as Kastros does a little victory moonwalk. “No fucking way!”
He strides over and gestures for me to go next. I grab my bowling ball, grumbling about cheating demons as I do. I cannot throw the ball with one hand backwards like Mr. Giant-Showoff-Pants. I have to clutch the ball with both hands and bend forward, before I launch it between my legs like a toddler.
I turn, only to see it immediately gutterball. When I look back at the guys, blushing furiously, not one of them is looking at the ball. They’re all staring at me.
And then they start whooping and high-fiving.
“You’re throwing every ball backwards from now on,” Zolroth orders as I walk back to the group.
“What? Why?” I ask, sincerely confused. “That was awful.”
“No, it was epic. We got to see right down your shirt,” he states proudly.
I clap both of my hands over my face, which has turned cherry red.
Van, to my surprise, lessens my humiliation. “New rule. No normal throws.”
The guys all enthusiastically embrace this new rule, and I find myself constantly laughing as they waddle with the ball, lay down on their stomachs and roll it, kick one leg up and toss it underneath, spin and throw.
I get so into playing around with them that nearly an hour passes, and when I glance back over at William and Janie’s lane, I realize that they aren’t even there.
Oddly enough, I don’t feel that same sledgehammer of disappointment smashing my chest like it did when I first learned about their date.
I glance back at the demons and realize that, for all their faults, they do make pretty awesome friends.
But as I stare at them, I notice that Akor’s been in the arcade for a really long time. He’s missing out on all the fun. And the wild, crazy demon is, at his core, lonely. I don’t want him to be left out. So, I stand up and wander towards the arcade.
But I don’t see him amidst the flashing games. I bite my lip as I emerge from the room full of electronic jingles and scan the snack counter. Not there. I head to the front desk, where people can purchase shoes and lanes or escape room tickets. Maybe Jason will know where Akor is.
But when I get to the counter, Jason isn’t there either. They’ve both disappeared.
My stomach sinks. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.
18
“Akor?”I call out tentatively, stepping outside.
I didn’t even realize that during our bowling shenanigans, the parking lot cleared out significantly. The biting November wind blows my pink hair around my face as I whip my head in both directions.
