Page 27 of Lure of a Demon (Unearthly Sins)

Because I felt some claim over her now?

Because I hadn’t solved the enigma which was this demon woman?

What hit me the hardest was the realization I didn’t want to see her suffer. That somewhere along the line, we had forged some fucked-up bond where we fought and disappeared without any real intention to do anything about it. Like a hero and a villain from a comic book, we needed each other as much as we hated each other.

The hatred seemed to be mostly on my behalf, I’ll admit. Ray had continued going about her merry way while I had battled my conscience every damn step of the way.

Hatred mixed with desire was a difficult combination to deal with, so I expressed it in the only way I knew how.

Anger.

There was a time not too long ago when I thought I knew how to kill a demon. It turns out, I didn’t know shit. But what I could tell you was the silver bullets used by whoever had attacked Ray wasn’t one of them. Although they would hurt like hell—pun not intended—from what I had gathered, she couldn’t heal until the foreign body—the silver—was removed.

Until then, she was in agony, bleeding openly and in and out of consciousness.

Which was apparently where I came in.

“I bet you’re loving this.” She forced the words through gritted teeth as I dug into another wound on her torso with tweezers, searching for the remaining silver fragments.

“I’m not, actually.”

“Come on, Ilsa, admit you’re enjoying it, even a little bit.”

Ray howled as I yanked another bullet from her torso, dropping it on the kitchen counter. I had her lying on the breakfast bar, pulling my stool up close and doing the best I could not to miss anything in the poor fluorescent lighting and the beam of the torch from my toolbox.

My lips twitched, and I knew she saw it.

“I knew it,” she whispered, a hint of pride and a chuckle in her tone before lying flat again. Her forehead was covered in sweat, the moisture mingling with the blood in her hair. I wondered if that was hers or someone else’s but didn’t want to ask until I was sure I was ready for the answer.

“Looks like I pissed off the wrong person this time,” she said, seconds before snarling at me, her eyes flashing when I pulled another bullet from her leg. “Fuck!” She hissed. “You could at least try to be gentle.”

I arched an eyebrow at her and again said nothing.

Why had she come to me?

I didn’t know where else to go.

That made sense. It’s not like she was going around making friends.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she muttered.

“Sure you do.”

Ray scoffed. “Please, you’re easy to read. At least for me.”

“You talk an awful lot for someone getting bullets removed.”

She flinched. “You’re thinking…” she jolted again, and I slapped her leg to keep her still, “… did the person who shot me intend to wound me, knowing the silver wouldn’t kill me, or were they under the impression as you were that the silver would destroy me?”

“Was it an attempt on your life or a warning?” I muttered.

“Right.”

I didn’t give my answer straight away, but I certainly had my suspicions. “Maybe you’ve been stepping on the wrong toes.”

She scoffed again but said nothing.

By the time the final bullet was removed, and I had done a suitable amount of digging around to search for leftover fragments, her body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and her face was pale, making her golden eyes and red hair stand out even more than they usually did. I’m guessing she was in more pain than she’d like to admit, and I hated the part of me that felt bad about that fact. She’d caused more than this amount of pain to others—maybe demons weren’t immune to karma.

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