Page 7 of Demon Sworn
A glare in the rearview mirror gives me my answer. I want to look down, but as a vengeance demon, I can’t. I deserve this—the scathing looks, the fury. I deserve whatever punishment they want to dole out. Centuries of it.
But Van can’t stare at me forever. He has to watch the road. So he settles for a muttered, “Fucker,” before his eyes slide off the mirror and he focuses.
“Actually, I don’t think Kastros should get to be a fucker,” Akor says conversationally, his head turning as he casts a wild smile in my direction. He wipes a bit of dried blood from the corner of his lip with his thumb, then cleans his finger on his jean jacket as he continues, “I think maybe we should make him a eunuch.”
His suggestion feels like the opening punch in a fight, and blood rises to my cheeks. My heart starts pounding. My fingers twitch, but I force them to stay still. I won’t sign a response to him. Akor wants to get a rise out of me because he wants an excuse to fight, especially when he only got a taster session with the human and he wants a main course. His pain magic is hungry for one. But the reality is, if that’s what they decide I deserve, so be it. A dickless eternity. My throat dries out at the thought.
An entire existence of watching our mate love all of them while scorning me, her gorgeous blue eyes flashing with fury and distrust each time she sees me. My own personal Hell.
The pain that was etched across Katrina’s face when she yanked herself out of my arms… I hope I haven't broken her. I hope I haven’t made her distrust the others, simply because I was an asshole.
Fuck, I’m as bad as her parents. Betraying her. Hurting her. Worse. A sheen rises to my eyes before I can squelch it. I know Akor loves tears, that they set off his torture instincts—I deserve torture—but Katrina deserves to find Adam more, which is why I have to maintain control.
There will be plenty of time for him to hurt me later. I won’t run. I won’t even beg for him to end it, though I know he’ll drag me to that point.
“You FUCKING SHIT!” Akor unstraps himself and kneels on his seat, leaning back towards me as he brandishes his machete like he’s a fucking pirate. His hot breath wafts across my face as he yells, “You don’t get to cry!”
“Sit down!” Van shouts. “Dammit it all to hell, there’s a copright there!”
Akor gives me a feral growl before he swings back around and sits, crossing his arms like a petulant child.
Red and blue lights flash throughout the car, and Van swears as he slows down. “Get rid of that damn knife and that jacket. They’re covered in blood.”
Akor yanks the jacket off and throws both items my way, the machete point first. It only slices my calf slightly before I’m able to grab it and wrap it up in the jacket. I shove both items under my seat. I’m not prepared for the sparkling grenades, and they smack against the back of my head, bouncing off and hurting like a bitch. I get the first one and shove it under the seat, and when I grab the second, the pin’s loose, making my balls crawl up into my stomach for a second before I shove that little metal tab securely in. Fuck.
I shove the third under as Van parks.
“Seatbelts,” Van reminds us once the vehicle’s stopped.
Akor’s groan mimics my own internal one as I yank on the strap and click it into place. It feels too much like following rules. Too much like tiptoeing through God’s garden.Don’t do this. And don’t do that. Safety before fun or pleasure or adventure or anything worthwhile.
I glance out the back window. A burly cop with a handlebar mustache that’s decades out of style strolls toward us, hands on his utility belt. He glances at our license plate and into the back windows as he walks up, though between the window tint and the glare of the streetlights, I doubt he can see anything other than my massive, admittedly frightening outline.
Van rolls down his window, and a second later, lust magic makes my dick hard as a rock.
“Dude, tone it down,” Akor complains. “I don’t want to jizz my pants again.”
Again?
I think back to a moment during his interview with Leonard, when Akor had randomly screamed out, “Yes!” and shuddered. Nope. Do not want to know.
I hear the smack of the cop’s gum before I see him appear by Van’s door. This cop is one of those obnoxious chewers who opens his mouth. Sure enough, when he leans an elbow on Van’s window, I can see the gum in his mouth like a misshapen green worm.
“Hello, boys. Where are we going tonight?” The officer’s badge reads “Jerry.”
“Oh, you know. Out to commit crimes. Kidnapping and all that,” Akor says with a wink.
It feels like the air is sucked right out of the vehicle. Even Van’s lust magic falters.
The officer grows still as his eyes narrow on Akor. “That’s not funny, son.”
“Oh, I’m not—”
Van hits the guy with such a jolt of lust magic that the officer is suddenly rubbing up against the door of the van, eyes rolling back in his head as he humps away against the metal. All thoughts of scolding Akor have clearly vanished from the human’s head.
Van lasers a threatening glare in Akor’s direction before turning to the officer and batting his pretty boy eyelashes. “Sorry about him, Officer. He’s just—oh dear!” The lust demon pulls out his phone and starts recording as Officer Jerry McHorny whips out his dick, unable to stop from stroking it. Van adopts an overdramatic, horrified tone. “What are youdoing? Do you get off on pulling people over?”
Jerry is too far gone to stop himself, simply grunting wildly in response. He opens his mouth and brays like a donkey. Two seconds later, a jet of sperm flies from his hand, and Van has to press the button to roll up his window to avoid getting sprayed. Jerry must have had a lot of pent-up tension.
