Page 101 of Demon Kissed
“They what?”
She gives a casual shrug as she drinks down more of her blood-red liquid. “We did. Our Center’s been dead for centuries.” She gives me a wink. “Why do you think we fell from Heaven?”
I lean back against the couch cushions, feeling young and small and shocked to my core.
So if I send my demons off to their mate, they’ll just kill her?
35
“Die, motherfucker!”I hiss through gritted teeth as I jerk the controller back, glaring at the television screen. Firing the shotgun Van procured for me at an abandoned cabin, I watch the zombie’s head explode like a watermelon at the end of a baseball bat. “Aww, shit,” I curse as a second zombie swipes at my character’s head. “Zolroth! I need health!”
Zolroth makes a noise on the couch beside me, too focused on the game to actually use his words.
A moment later, his avatar on the screen fixes me up, using the last of our combined heath supplies.
“You know,” Akor begins casually as his player fires off a huge bazooka at the rapidly approaching throng of zombies, “this is much more fun with real zombies. Did you know that in Hell, they have an abandoned ghost town filled with creatures like Jason? We could play this for real!” He’s practically bouncing on the edge of his seat as Zolroth throws a pillow in his direction.
“Shut the bloody fuck up, Akor, and take my rear,” he instructs, and of course, Akor waggles his eyebrows suggestively.
“Why, you sly dog…”
Van chooses that moment to reappear, throwing himself over the back of the couch and resuming his seat beside me.
“Adam asleep?” I query as Van rejoins the game.
“Out like a light,” he answers, frowning when he sees how fucked we are. Seriously, there are zombieseverywhere.I blame Akor for stupidly setting off the car alarm.
“And Kastros and Raz?” I press anxiously. The two of them were called away to go check out a flock of angels rumored to be in the vicinity. That was two fucking hours ago, and they still haven’t returned. To say I’m stressed would be an understatement. What if something’s happened to them? What if that bitch, their Center, was around? What if she caused them to get hurt? I’m quite certain I would string her up and gut her innards, fated mate or not.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. A little psycho-sounding, maybe, but I can’t find it within me to care. Maybe Akor is rubbing off on me. Or Arariel. Who knows? All I know is that it’s been two days since we got back from the tournament, and I have reconciled with the fact that Centers are not good for murders. I might have a slight, tiny, minuscule personal interest in their particular Center dying.
“They’re fine.” Van heaves out a heavy breath, his nose scrunching adorably as he focuses on the game. “Stop stressing, Katrina, or else your pretty pink hair will turn gray.”
I scowl and bring one hand up to my head instinctively.
“Yeah? Well, your face will turnwrinkly,” I snap back, because yeah, I’m just that smooth.
Van quirks one russet eyebrow, a witty retort no doubt on the tip of his tongue, but before he can speak, the door is kicked open and it smashes into the wall behind it with athud. Raz staggers inside, Kastros’s bloody, unconscious form draped over his shoulder.
No.My heart hits the floor just as hard as the door hit the wall.
“Holy shit!” I jump to my feet instantly as Zolroth and Akor race forward, taking Kastros from Raz and setting him gently on the floor. Van remains by my side, one hand on my shoulder as if he means to protect me from whatever or whomever did this to them, or else to restrain me.
“What happened?” Zolroth’s accent is thicker than ever before as he hovers over his friend.
This close, I can see Kastros’s face is mottled with black and blue bruises, each one more pronounced than the last. Both of his eyes are almost completely swollen shut, and his arm hangs at an unnatural angle.
Raz isn’t looking much better, though unlike his friend, he’s still able to stand. Hideous gashes mar his beautiful face, and dried blood clumps his sandy blond hair to the side of his scalp. Pain radiates from his eyes as he hisses out a breath, slowly lowering himself to the nearest armchair.
“Angels,” he answers bitterly, pain causing his face to crease. “We thought it would be simple surveillance, but they were expecting us. I don’t know how they even knew we were coming. Five against two. They got us from behind. And with…” He trails off, throwing his head back and closing his eyes.
“Is it because of your Center?” I ask hesitantly, volleying my gaze between a still unconscious Kastros and a grimacing Raz. As if my body has a will of its own, I lower myself to my knees beside Kastros’s humongous form and take his hand in mine. I swear his eyes are moving rapidly behind his closed eyelids as he tilts his face in my direction, almost as if he can’t help himself. “Are you vulnerable because of your Center?”
When none of the guys answer my question, choosing instead to exchange wary looks, I swallow down the sudden lump in my throat.
“It is because of her, isn’t it? She’s causing you guys to get injured, when before, you would’ve been perfectly fine.” My conversation with Arariel comes to the forefront of my mind, and I find myself voicing something I never thought I would say. Something so unimaginable that I feel physically ill just for even thinking it. “Maybe you should take care of the problem.”
Did I really just suggest that the guyskilltheir fucking Center? What the hell is wrong with me?
