Page 162 of The Demon's Pet

“Exactly,” Sam said, narrowing his eyes. “You know nothing of this world. So shut up before you start corrupting Cleo. I have many faults, but not the ones you’re accusing me of. I’m your only hope of help in the mid-realm, and I’m losing my patience.”

“You could live with me, Griffin,” Simon butted in unhelpfully. “Probably feed a lot of vampires with that huge body.”

Griffin sent him a shocked glare, then looked over at me. “I’m sorry, Cleo. I know I shouldn’t interfere. But after what I heard, I can’t help it. I tried to come to your room last night, but you were already asleep.” He sent Sam a mean glare. “We could have just left and avoided all this.”

Sam threw his head back, laughing with an arm over his taut midsection. “You have to be kidding if you think I’d let you leave. If you think I don’t have a way to stop you.”

Griffin let out a snarl. “So you’ll keep her here, no matter what?”

Sam stared back. “Absolutely. There was never a choice.”

His words seared into me, and I froze, silent, for a moment.

He’d never meant to give me a choice. He’d been honest from the start about wanting to use me.

Why had I ever thought anything else?

But when I came to bathe him, to talk to him, and he’d pleasured me, I saw another Sam. Different from the hard, cold one I saw here.

I didn’t want to believe what Griffin was saying, but I wasn’t sure who to believe.

“Griffin, why do you keep saying he’s manipulating me?” I sighed. “I knew he was a demon. I just kept it from you because I was grateful he saved my life. I knew he was using me for a favor, but I thought it a fair price. Now I don’t know. But do we really have any other options?”

Griffin looked between me and Sam, panicked. “Cleo, remember how hurt he was when he came back? How he made you take care of him all last night?”

I flushed, hoping Griffin was only imagining sponge baths and nothing else. I nodded.

“That’s all a lie,” Griffin said. “He’s one of the most powerful slayers of all time. No way Zarris could have taken him on. Sam was trained directly by Cayne, the most legendary slayer ever.”

Sam went rigid, shooting an accusing look at Simon, who raised his hands, trying to look innocent.

“How was I supposed to know you’d bring them here without telling them about your brother?” Simon asked. But I could see something less than innocent in his eyes.

Griffin kept his focus on me. “Cleo, I found out more about the fight from Mor and Os. Sam didn’t even fight back against Zarris. He lied to us. He stayed totally still and just took every hit. Why the fuck would he do that if he wasn’t just trying to manipulate you? To make you feel bad and owe him for the entire situation. What other reason is there?”

Sam sent Griffin a look of rage so fierce it was actually scary, which told me that at least part of what Griffin said was probably true.

“Why?” I asked, turning to Sam, betrayal flooding through me. “Why would you do that? What kind of trick are you trying to pull?” I thought back to his bruised, broken body, how bad I had felt. “Did you just want me to feel guilty? Did you want to ram home that I made a bad choice? I already feel bad you had to murder Zadis.”

“I don’t owe anyone any answers!” Sam spun away from us, huge shoulders hunching as he stomped away at a brisk pace. He looked back at me fiercely. “I’ll come find you to train at three. You’ll pay me back, Cleo. You don’t have a choice.”

I gaped at his back as he walked in the direction of the cemetery.

Simon moved over to me. “There, there, Cleo,” he said, putting his arm around my shoulders comfortingly. “He’s just being an angry ol’ demon. He doesn’t mean it.”

What happened next happened so instantaneously I could barely comprehend it.

Sam’s wings were out, and he cleared the distance to us in a split second, getting up in Simon’s face, wings flaring threateningly like huge black clouds to either side of him.

Simon let go of me with a hiss and moved to meet Sam’s challenge. Huge black wings unfurled from his back, but instead of feathers, they were glistening with an oil slick of purple and green over what looked like black leather.

Or bat skin.

In size, they rivaled Sam’s, or were even slightly bigger.

“Showing me your wings like that,” Simon said, a scowl taking over his normally cheery disposition. “Threatening me. Cayne would be ashamed of what you’re doing right now.”

“She”—Sam pointed at me—“is fucking mine. It’s best for your health if you never lay another fucking finger on her.”

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