Page 30 of Touched By Sin
Ronan looks at me uncertainly. He’s the soft one in the group, and the thought of a true angel alone in the human world with so little knowledge of the dangers here is bound to pull on his heartstrings. The thoughts flee my head when Daemon snakes his hand beneath the woman’s skirt. We’ve hit the jackpot. We move in as one, following Daemon hot on his heels as he steers the girl outside into the back alley.
The light above the door is broken, and it’s dark except for the soft glow from a streetlight further down the passage, where it opens up to the main street. Daemon steers the girl deeper into the dark alley, away from the light. Hidden by the steam from a sewer, he corners her against the brick wall, hiking her skirt up above her waist.
A fragment of clarity enters her mind when she spots us behind him. Her eyes widen and she gasps, but Daemon muffles the sound with his hand. My fangs ache with the need to feast. Daemon, the fucker, knows this, but he takes his time, toying with his food like a cat with a mouse. He holds back, though.
Ronan notices it, too. The look he gives me is one of equal curiosity and confusion. So maybe Daemon won’t fuck her despite his threats to the little angel? This is the first time I’ve seen him shy away from an easy fuck before a feast.
“Fuck,” he growls, shoving her off when she reaches for his belt, then he releases a frustrated roar and says to Ronan on his way past, “You deal with her.”
It’s impossible to hold back my amused smirk while we watch Ronan lift the woman up against the wall and settle between her legs. Why are we doing this? Because the blood tastes sweeter after she has come. We could drain her without seducing her first, but it doesn’t offer the same high. All fallen angels know this.
“Pussy whipped, huh?” I tease.
Daemon snaps his head to me. “Fuck you. I’m not pussy whipped.”
“No? Is that why you’re not balls deep in her right now? Why you let Ronan do the dirty work?”
Daemon, who hates showing weakness, sucks on his teeth in annoyance. The very idea that a girl could control him like this makes his skin crawl. Ronan teases the girl, stroking her over her panties, but he doesn’t take it any further and his fingers never slip beneath the fabric. Daemon soon loses patience, shoving me forward. “Sort her out.”
Chuckling, I raise my hands. “Fine, I’ll do it since you motherfuckers became pussy whipped overnight.”
Ronan looks relieved when I take his place. How fucking difficult can it be to fuck this woman? They behave like it’s an enormous struggle to spread her legs and sink into her heat. But when I hook my fingers into her panties, I can’t do it. Something stops me. I try again, but my hand slides back out. What the hell? I palm her creamy neck, rest my forehead against hers, and summon the strength to do what’s needed. The woman’s long hair brushes against her flushed cheeks, and her plump lips look inviting enough that only a fool would turn down the opportunity to taste them. Turns out, I am that fool.
Daemon loses patience, shoving me out of the way. In one swift motion, he tears into her throat, growling when she cries out. It’s our cue to move in, too. We surge forward on silent feet. Falling to my knees, I sink my teeth into the femoral artery in her thigh while Ronan brings her wrist up to his lips. Her subdued struggle soon ends. She falls limp against the brick wall as her heart slows to a stop. We drain her of every last drop before stepping away, blending with the shadows. Her slumped body falls to the ground, and her lifeless eyes stare up at the dark sky.
Daemon, who is breathing hard, wipes his mouth. “We won’t talk about this again.”
“I think we should,” Ronan replies, toeing the girl’s thigh. “Why couldn’t any one of us fuck this girl?”
Confounded, I shake my head. “I thought I could, but then when I tried to slide her panties aside, something stopped me.”
A loud crash startles me, and I turn to see Daemon let loose on a trash can. He kicks it, not once, but three times.
“The angel is just a fucking girl,” he growls. “She’s not that fucking special.”
Ronan waits for him to calm down before speaking, “Then why didn’t you fuck the human?”
“Why didn’t you?” Daemon counters, his forehead coated in a thin layer of sweat. He wipes it off with the back of his hand, then stiffens. “Where the fuck is Angel?”
“Inside somewhere,” I say, sucking a bead of blood off my thumb from the corner of my lips.
Daemon walks back inside and we follow behind, coated in blood and death. It’s not the best idea to re-enter the bar after a feed. While the humans might struggle to see the wings, they’re no strangers to blood. They part like the sea when they spot us making a beeline for our angel across the dance floor, where she sits on a couch, straddling the lap of a human man. I don’t have a short fuse like Daemon, but fury still boils my blood. She’s a fucking brat when she wants to be. She knew we would find her, and she made sure to lash out at Daemon the best way she knew how—by awakening his jealous side.
He seizes her arm, tearing her off the man. Angel falls on her ass and shoots back up to her feet, staring in disbelief and horror.
“Think you can fucking touch my girl?” Daemon growls at the unsuspecting stranger who was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Before the man can respond, Daemon rips out his windpipe, and blood gushes from the wound. The sounds of gurgling, choking, and gasping make me smirk. Daemon is teaching the little angel a very important lesson: defy us, and someone has to pay the consequences.
After climbing off the man, Daemon throws the fleshy lump on the floor and then storms off without another word. Angel, with her wide eyes and stricken expression, has her hands pressed over her mouth, unable to believe what just happened. I have to admit that it was a bit extreme. I’ve never seen Daemon rip out a man’s trachea for flirting with his girl. That would require Daemon to care—something he has never done before.
Very interesting.
Angel storms out after him, uncaring about the shocked, crying humans. As soon as we step outside, she shoves Daemon’s back. “What was that back there?! What the actual fuck, Daemon? You killed that man!”
He whirls on her, his eyes flashing with lethal danger. Covered head to toe in blood, he looks like the devil himself. “I warned you what would happen if you so much as looked at another man. He deserved it. That fucker thought he was halfway in your panties.”
She shoves his chest hard, but he doesn’t budge. “You’re sick, Daemon! You’re fucking sick!”
“Guys, we need to leave unless we want to explain to your father why we ended up in human jail,” Ronan says. It’s meant as a joke, but he has a point. We’ve already created a mess. Sirens wail in the distance. We’ve never caused a scene like this before. Usually, the girls disappear into the silent night to be found by some poor homeless person. Our angel made a spectacle tonight with her little show that let loose the monster in Daemon.
