Page 7 of Lure of a Demon (Unearthly Sins)

Pushing myself to my feet, I launched across the room before he opened his mouth to cry out again, landing my forehead against his nose and snarling in delight as the blood burst forth—blood he couldn’t wipe away due to my grip on his hands.

“Watch your hands there, buster,” I growled loudly. “You just might lose them.”

There was no chuckle this time, no snicker, only a whimper before he squealed like the pig he is when I twisted his hands, breaking the bones in his wrists and possibly some of the ones in his fingers as well. He dropped to the floor like a sack of shit the second I let him go, cradling his hands against his chest and sobbing.

First one down.

I turned to find the rest of the bar’s occupants on their feet, and although they appeared weary of me, unable to draw their gaze from my glowing eyes, they were primed to attack.

I sneered.Good.

Not waiting for them to come to me, I charged at the closest asshole and grabbed his vest, using my weight and speed to lift him off his feet and slam him onto the floor. He was out easy. I hadn’t planned it, but when the back of his skull collided with the hardwood, he was knocked out. Flicking my head up and sweeping hair from my face, I bared my teeth at the surrounding men, laughing when they backed off a step.

When I launched myself from the unconscious man, I leaped onto the next nearest, who immediately began screaming at a pitch I’m sure he’d deny later as I sunk my teeth into his cheek, then spitting in his face to get the fowl taste of his tainted blood from me before I swallowed any. A barstool was broken over my back, which, in itself, I could deal with, but then someone picked up the broken chair leg and drove it into my calf.

I won’t lie—it hurt like a bitch.

Thank fuck for high pain tolerance.

Yanking the splintered wood from my leg, I turned the weapon against my attacker, returning the gesture and stabbing him where he had me.

He went down.

One of the women tried to break a bottle over my head, and my arm flew out on instinct. I caught her wrist before the bottle made contact with my skull. Her eyes widened, and she trembled under my grip, dropping the bottle which I caught with my spare hand, laughing again as this made her whimper.

She was pretty and shrunk under my gaze as I licked my lips, flicking my tongue over my teeth. I could take her, but I wasn’t here for her. Not tonight. Although the ache in my pussy told me I’d need to deal with that aspect of my instinct soon, I wouldn’t be acting on it now, not when I was having so much fun with my current projects. I leaned in close to her ear, purring at the way she trembled. I bet she shook the same way when she orgasmed.

“Run, bitch,” I whispered.

She did.

In an attempt to use a move I had seen in a spy movie, while I failed to capture it with silver-screen grace, the next man went down with his head crushed between my thighs. By the time I had taken him out, the bar had emptied. The remaining men and women having fled, taking those injured and unconscious with them.

There wouldn’t be a club for them to come back to.

Cracking open the bottle the woman had tried to hit me with, I poured a portion over the wound on my leg.Strange.I frowned, unsure why it hadn’t healed yet until I found a few stray splinters still embedded in my skin. Hissing between my teeth, I removed them and gave the wound another splash of bourbon. I could almost watch as the remaining gash closed up, then I poured the last of the amber liquid down my throat.

Tasted like shit but burned so nice.

I vaulted over the bar and set about pouring bottle after bottle onto the floor and tables and snatched up a stray pack of cigarettes on my way out. Using a lighter to light a cigarette, I then threw it over my shoulder into the bar. The flames crackled to life slowly at first, burning on the spilled alcohol before spreading to the wooden furniture and eventually licking up the walls. It didn’t gain momentum as quickly as people seemed to think it did, but it also depended greatly on the bar’s contents and could change from small fires to raging inferno in a second. I’d learned the hard way a few weeks ago when I had casually strolled out and had barely made it to the door before the flames reached a particularly volatile pile of kindling.

It singed my clothes, which pissed me off.

I liked that jacket.

As I sat across the street, smiling and watching the building burn, I only wished I’d grabbed another bottle before leaving.

A drink and a show would’ve been nice.

ILSA

Whoever she was, this mystery redhead, she was a strange mixture of chaotic and organized. If she had a plan before she strolled into and decided to destroy these places, I couldn’t find any evidence of it.

Yet, her error lay in her selection of locations. I’m no detective or private dick, but if television has taught me anything, it’s to map out the locations and search for patterns. So, I did exactly that, starting in the most logical spot for me to get my head around this.

And fuck me, as I tracked her and my information increased, it was glaringly apparent she was moving in a fucking spiral. Not a perfect spiral, mind you, but there was a definite pattern there. I had no idea if she was even doing it consciously, but it hardly mattered. I spent an unreasonable amount of time on the internet and even more time wandering the area and asking questions of anyone who would talk to me. Not many were willing because let’s face it, I looked like law enforcement. Relaxing my posture had done nothing. It was written all over my face—authority—and the locals in this area could see me coming a mile away. Now, I had reduced it down to three places for what I suspected her next targets could be, and three was certainly better than an entire city full of potentials—another biker clubhouse, a bar well known for the distribution of illegal substances well beyond the small-time exchange of a few tablets for a few hundred dollars, and a church.

I almost didn’t choose the church, but she’s a demon, after all, and I took my chances she’d want to destroy a religious icon. It made sense to me. As far as I knew, she hadn’t crossed paths with a significant building of spiritual merit in her previous wanderings. They certainly weren’t overly abundant down this end of the city, and maybe she’d be in the mood for some irony.

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