Page 33 of The Demon in Him

Mike growled again. “I should make you lick that up, dirty boy.” He traced his thumb across my lips, waiting until I opened my eyes before pushing his thumb into my mouth. “But instead, I’m going to fuck you until you come again. Is that okay?”

“Yes, please, please.” I was a mess around him, willing to throw myself at him and let him do whatever he pleased as long as he kept me teetering on the highs I knew he could bring me to.

“Ooh.” Mike hummed again, leaning forward to dart his tongue into my mouth, leaving my jaw agape when he moved away before I could continue the kiss. “I do like it when you beg me. Perhaps we could practice that part a bit more?”

“Please, please, please…” I whispered.

The mattress shifted as Mike moved to his knees. “Bend over,” he said, that dark tone to his voice taking over again. “Because you beg so good.”

JACOB

It wasn’t the moonlight that dappled through the clouds, sprinkling over Mike’s bed where I lay that woke me. It was something much less pleasant.

A hand slapped over my mouth, and I reached out, slamming my palm on the empty mattress beside me.Where was Mike?The moonlight reflected off the light hair and pale face of the figure above me, and he chuckled, a voice too deep for his slender face, while his hand tightened and painfully squeezed my cheeks together. Precious seconds later, the bathroom door crashed open, banged against the doorstop, and the silence in the room was punctuated by Mike’s heavy breathing.

The man above me changed his position lightning fast until he was behind me with one arm wrapped around my chest and the other hand pressing something cold and sharp to my throat. He dragged me from the bed, and my nudity only served to increase the feeling of exposure as he placed me between Mike and himself, using the knife to control my movements. My mind was a blur, and I just complied with the dragging and physical commands of the man behind me. Because what else could I do? He had a knife. And beyond that, when I looked at Mike standing on the other side of the bed, his chest heaving and expression laced with thrilling danger, I saw real fear in his eyes.

If Mike was afraid, then I was fucking terrified.

“I wouldn’t make any sudden moves, Mike,” the man drawled before shifting his hand. “I might get a bit twitchy and cut him up.”

“Tate,” Mike whispered before swallowing heavily. “Tate.” When he repeated the name, his voice was stronger and heavier, as though there was something behind it, a driving force making the word sound like a threat. I wanted to bring my hands up and grip the man holding me, to at least feel like I had some control of the situation, even if it was an illusion. But something in Mike’s expression made me stop and stand as motionless as I could and put my faith in him to get us out of this situation.

When I saw it, a frown flickered across my face, and for the smallest beat, Mike’s gaze traveled to mine.

A trick of the light… it had to be.

In the dull light of the room, I could’ve sworn Mike’s eyes changed, and a flash of yellow crossed over his natural gray as he stared down Tate, not looking directly at me, not even throwing me a glance. I waited for it to happen again, squinting through the semi-darkness and hoping for any hint that I had imagined what I saw. When it happened again, I recoiled in Tate’s hold, and he chuckled.

The effect had been supernatural and was gone as quickly as it had come. Once, and I could have dismissed it, but twice, I think I was going crazy. Mike’s lip was twisted in what almost looked like regret, and I wanted to ask what was going on when I was harshly reminded of my situation and the blade pressed against my skin.

Mike took a step forward, his expression darkening, and held up his hands when Tate took a step back, the knife cutting into my skin when he changed the angle. I whimpered, hating the sound as it came from me, but the trickle of blood from my neck spiked my fear. “Tate, let him go.”

“Turn on the light,” Tate said. Mike hesitated before taking a few steps to the side and flicking on a bedside lamp.

“What do you want?”

Tate ignored Mike’s question and readjusted his position so he could hold his arm in front of me. Gasping, I followed the trail of scars up his arm, identical to those on Mike’s skin.What the fuck was going on?I’d assumed the scars were a result of something Tate had done to Mike, butmatchingscars? I couldn’t explain that.

“You see these scars, human?”

Human?Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t answer fast enough, and the pressure of the knife increased again. I nodded, choking out a reply. “Yes.”

“Mike gave me these scars.”

“You gave them toyourself,”Mike yelled.

“I never wanted them, lover. It wasyourchoice,yourmove to end us and tear us apart.” Tate turned his head slightly, speaking directly into my ear while he slowly waved his arm in front of my face, making sure I got a good look at the scars that wrapped around his skin. “He’ll do the same to you, you know. He’ll make you into a monster, then he’ll leave you.”

“You were already a monster!”

Tate chuckled at the outburst. Mike’s voice was edged with fear rather than anger and an unhealthy dose of desperation. This side of Mike was frightening. I would have much preferred he was a bundle of rage. Hell, it would have even been better to see him get violent against Tate. I don’t condone violence, but it would have been less disturbing than the mixture of fear and pain in his features and the twitch of his fingers, full of nervous energy.

“Are you sure about that?” Mike didn’t answer Tate’s tease, and Tate laughed again. “Which one of us is the monster, Mike? Maybe lover boy deserves to know.”

Mike started shaking his head. “Tate, please, don’t…”

“Some demon you are. Why don’t you just fucking kill me? We both know you have the strength.” When Mike didn’t answer, Tate continued to laugh. Mike shot me another nervous glance, the anxious flexing of his fingers working double-time, and my mind was reeling. There was tension in the air, as though there was a truth right below the surface I couldn’t quite grasp. Tate and Mike seemed to be teetering around something, hints hidden in their stilted conversation that Mike didn’t want me to know. The room started to feel uncomfortable, and the cool blade against my skin was almost an afterthought to the discomfort that permeated me. Tate continued to chuckle at Mike’s obvious indecision. “No, wait, don’t answer because I already know. You won’t kill me because you’re a fuckingcoward. You’ve never been anything but a coward.”

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