Page 90 of The Demon's Pet

But as I shoved open the door and saw him, several thoughts immediately ran through my head as I let out a shrill scream of shock.

1. Never bother a celestial when he says he’s “unbotherable.”

2. Men masturbating sometimes make sounds oddly like they’ve been injured.

3. Sam wasn’t a celestial. At least notonlya celestial. Because the person staring at me in utter shock, while lying back naked and stroking their cock, didn’t look like Sam at all.

He had long, sultry red hair in a dark shade like blood about to clot. Glowing red eyes that seemed larger than usual.

Horns, black and sinister, curling up out of his beautiful hair.

Long, pointed ears and a white tint to his skin that hadn’t been there before. Little flushes of pink to add contour to his cheeks, making him look almost otherworldly.

The face and body, that was all Sam, though his coloring was different. Paler and more ethereal and flushed with pink.

We stared at each other for a tense second, and then his face went bright red.

“Get out!” he yelled, grabbing a blanket to cover himself.

I yelped and ran for it, not even slamming his door in my rush to escape.

Holy shit, what just happened? What did I just see?

My cheeks were flaming like someone was pressing a hot iron to either side of them, and the image I’d seen upon opening the door was burned into my brain.

Sam, if that’s who he was, lying back on those pillows, gorgeous muscles on display.

It had been the most erotic thing I’d ever seen in my life.

His beautiful hand over that huge cock. Liquid leaking from the tip. His chest taut and flexing, his abs rigid, his long legs spread.

I wanted to memorize it, even though I had no right to see it, so I tried to put it out of my mind.

I locked my door, but I doubted it would save me when he came to talk to me.

I’d just caught a celestial masturbating when I wasn’t supposed to, and I’d also just realized that celestial wasn’t what he appeared to be at all.

I’d seen hishorns.

Heavy footsteps pounded down the hallway toward me from Sam’s bedroom.

Yeah, I was probably a dead wolf walking.

20

When the footsteps reached my room, the lock jiggled as someone, presumably Sam, tried to wrench it open.

Then, to my astonishment, I saw the lock slowly turning to an unlocked position, and the door swung open, Sam pushing it with one hand.

He was back in his usual form, with mussed golden-blond and brown curls and those dark eyes with the golden ring.

His bare upper body, full of those traditional tattoos, gleamed with sweat, and I watched a drop slowly move down and over his abs, wishing it was my tongue that could do so.

His tattoos had been missing in his other form.

My eyes followed down to the waistband of the loose gray sweatpants he was wearing.

Oh no. I’d always been a goner for gray sweatpants.

---