Page 7 of Sweet Vengeance

“Holy shit,” she said breathlessly. Malachi’s chest puffed up without his control, his wings flaring behind them. “Are we—can people see us?”

“As long as Idon’t wantthem to, no. And no one can see me but you.”

At least, not unless he let them. And even then, usually, he onlyletthem see the more “human” version of himself, hiding his skin’s unnatural colour, along with his wings, tail, and horns from their delicate sensibilities.

“Delicious.” Her grip in his elbow tightened. His stomach did something funny at the action.

It was dark out, with few humans about. Malachi saw the opening times for the supermarket; it would soon close.

They waited. Joy’s giddiness made Malachi feel a little drunk. She didn’t seem to know demons could also feed on human emotion; everything she gave off, instead of making him feel full, had him nearly frantic for more. Taking the little bit of her blood as he’d done earlier had only made his hunger worse.

Malachi knew what it was to be hungry; he’d been hungry practically all his life. What was it about her that had his perpetual hunger going from easily ignored to downright unbearable? Almighty, he wanted to feast on her, in every way imaginable.

“There he is.”

The man came around from the back of the store. He was on his phone. Still, Joy waited. Eagerness nearly had Malachi trembling. Wouldn’t it be better to confront him in the darkness? Slit his throat when he slid into the driver’s seat of his car?

Each scenario had Malachi’s blood rushing with lustful excitement. Maybe it was the bloodlust seeping into him from the woman standing beside him, but Malachi absolutely wanted to destroy the man in the parking lot.

The man revved the engine, headlights coming on, flooding the street and across it to the pavement where he and Joy stood. As he eased out of the lot, Joy let go of Malachi’s hand. Malachi felt her intention through the bond.

Tires screeched as the man slammed his foot on the brakes, staring at Joy’s sudden appearance with wide, shocked eyes. She stood, back straight and eyes blazing in her blood-splattered Ankara dress, with a beautiful dagger clutchedinher right hand, the blade glinting in the car’s headlights.

When Malachi felt her intention through the bond, he manipulated the aetheras easilyas plucking the strings of a guitar, and rendered her invisible once more.

The man remained frozen in the lot for a moment, staring at where Joy had stood. Eventually, he shook his head and slid out of the lot.

He turned right, heading down the street. Malachi strummed at the aether when he felt Joy’s intention once more, at the same time that the man glanced back through his rear-view mirror. His eyes widened again—Malachi strained to hear the way his heartbeat skipped, inhaling greedily as his scent went thick with fear—before he used his magic to hide Joy once again.

The man stepped on the accelerator, turning again on the next corner, disappearing into the night.

“Day one,” Joy breathed, her grin untamed, her scent filled with satisfaction.

Malachi really, really wanted to get on his knees. He wanted to take her back to her bedroom, lay her down on her bed, and feast on her cunt until she came—again and again until she couldn’t come anymore.

THREE

The success of last night hadn’t yet left Joy’s system. She was downright jittery as she watched the clock, counting down the hours until tonight when she could continue with her slowly unfolding revenge. A part of her just wanted to say fuck it and finish him off now, but she knew the reward would be so much sweeter if she took her time.

At closing time, Joy’s boss, a.k.a. the manager of this branch of Shopwell, Mrs. Edochie, came up to her till, her heels clacking on the tiled floors. She was a tall, big woman—almost as big as Joy herself—and Joy had had more than one fantasy of being crushed between her thick thighs.

“Mrs. Edochie,” she greeted politely. “Good evening.”

“Ehen, well done. Just came over to ask if everything is going well? You managing the till okay?”

“Yes, thank you.” She smiled. “Everything’s all right.”

“Wonderful. I’ll bid you goodnight, then. See you on your next shift. Don’t forget to clock out.”

“I won’t.” Joy echoed the goodnight.

She ignored the rest of her co-workers as she made it to the back to change, slipping earphones in her ears to prevent the small talk. She felt a pang as she watched them joke and laugh together, and forced herself to look away.

Acid burned in her stomach when she thought of her life before the incident. Her parents had died in a plane crash, and because the hatred was mutual on her father’s side of the family, they’d split all his assets between them, leaving her with nothing. She’d tried to get a lawyer involved, but she’d forgotten this was Nigeria; the law only worked if you were rich, and respectability politics thrived in the veins of this nation:you’reonly twenty-sixandyou have a steadyjob;the rest of the familyisstruggling, surely you understand, na? She’d had to sell her mother’s gold jewellery to afford her funeral and keep herself afloat for the few months following, cause God knows her father’s side of the family wouldn’t be paying foreither.

Afterward, she’d gotten two jobs so she could pay her rent, keep food on the table, and aggressively market her graphic design business. By the time she finally landeda steady enoughclientelethat boosted her enough that she could quit both day jobs if she wanted, she’d looked up from the “grinding” table and two years of her life had gone by.

She’d decided then, something had to change. She would make new friends. Find a hobby. Get a fucking life. Maybe try dating again; she was twenty-eightyears old and hadn’t been with a single soul since she was twenty-three, having only her toys for company while she’d dealt with her grief and struggled to make ends meet.

---