Page 16 of Orion: Galaxy Huntress

Chapter 8

Vice

The naïve little huntress left,and I let her, curious to see what she could produce. I mean, this was what deals were made of. Nothing made my fraudulent little heart happier than swindling someone out of something.

To my surprise and horror, my sexy and bloody little minx returned hours later with a damn calf slung over her shoulder. Yes, you heard right, and don’t need your ears cleaned out. Slung over her shoulder. Arrows protruded from the damn beast’s eyes. Stolen from some hapless farmer, might I add. Daredevil. I better hide this thing before anyone reported it.

She dropped the lifeless thing at the foot of my bar, astounding my evening diners, some scrambling to their feet to leave. I wiped their minds before they did, calming them, making them docilely sit back in their chair and finish their meal. Couldn’t have them complaining to their friends and family. This establishment already had enough bad reviews and a poor reputation. I needed to improve that if I wanted to attract the higher-end clientele and charge more per dining experience.

“Ten dollars, thank you.” Saucy little minx held out her hand expectantly.

“You outdid yourself, kitten.” I gave her the nickname after a lion huntress, because that was what she was. Strong, fierce, and a fine-assed hunter.

This was no ordinary woman. No goddess, either. What she was remained a mystery I had to solve. Scanning her, I detected an ancient and formidable power within her. One that might serve me a purpose. Help me sever the binding to my father, cut me free of Hell, out of his service, instead of doing his bidding, day in, day out for an eternity. Boring. Time for a new challenge. Variety was the spice of life. After a thousand years of duping people, I just needed a new challenge. Do my own thing for once, instead of being whipped, stabbed, eaten and regurgitated for not meeting KPIs. Maybe travel. Maybe take some classes. Learn to ski. Demon. Ski? Get it. Anything but this dreary life. I was sick of being stuck in this town.

Rich inspected the meat and nodded. “Fresh. Smells good.” He was a lowly minion demon and could smell those kinds of things. He hit me on the back of the head. “Pay her more than that, boss. This thing’s worth eight hundred, at least.”

Damn porky demon took her side. I’d have him in the freezer all afternoon, rearranging it for his treachery. Teach that snitch a lesson in loyalty.

Kitten’s eyes flashed with the fires of my dad’s domain.

Eight hundred for a damn calf. Not a whole cow. That traitorous bastard just cost me seven hundred and ninety dollars. I elbowed him in the gut to shut him up. Then I handed her over a ten dollar note. Instead of taking it, she grabbed my wrist. Hard, may I add. Extremely hard for such a curvy little thing. But she did heave a cow inside the bar on her shoulders.

“Pay me the rest, you cheating demon,” she snarled between bared teeth. “Or I’ll gut you in front of all the patrons, cook your entrails, and dine on them.”

Feisty.

“That kind of dirty talk belongs in my bedroom, kitten.” I winked saucily and wagged a finger at her. Blood play or the threat of cutting got me hot under the collar. Most human women weren’t into it. Demon females dug it, but most were hideously ugly, and I couldn’t get my dick up for them.

Kitten rolled her eyes and curled her lips. I definitely had room in my life for a woman like this. It just sealed the deal for me and made up my mind. I’d steal her from Ace before the dirty mutt had even realized she was his. Then there’d be no hard feelings and no accusations of duplicity. Screwing people over was my business, but people didn’t need to know that when they came to me seeking remedy or else I’d be out of business.

“Let’s get you to work on cutting this up, hey?” I dragged her by the shoulders through a door into the adjacent kitchen, transporting the cow onto the counter with a click of my clawed fingers before any more patrons entered.

Despite the scent of tavern meals cooking around me, I detected another filthy, dead mark on her. I lowered my nose to her arms and pulled back as vomit lurched up my throat. Vampire. Dead skins walking. What was she doing with them?

“A vampire touched you,” I growled at her ear, getting unusually possessive for an afternoon, boxing her body against the counter, making her pulse pound in her throat. My gaze dropped to the black blood smear on her dress and I snarled. I didn’t want her near vampires. They were dangerous and could harm her.

Her gaze darkened as it met mine. “I was surprised in the forest by one. It was fast. Strong. My third I’ve encountered today.”

Third? I grabbed her by both wrists. “Did it bite you?” She wrestled my grip, but I didn’t let her go. “Drink your blood?”

“No.” She shuddered as if the idea disgusted her.

My grip on her tightened and she glared at me. “You’re not going hunting again, kitten. You’re staying with me.”

Fuck, I was out of sorts today. Off my game. I never got this covetous over a woman. Something about her had me in a tailspin and made me protective over her. Protective like a damn wolf shifter over its mate. Hell, had some of the spell from Ace trickled onto me? Explained why I was off sorts.

“I killed it.” She tapped the dagger at her hip with her finger, brushing my arm, making electricity spark between us. “Blade through the heart, just like you’ll get if you don’t release me.”

That’s my kitten.

Relieved, I loosened my grip on her, and ran the back of my knuckles against her cheek, making her body tense and her eyelids flutter. “Stay away from the vampires, kitten.” I withdrew from her, running a hand through my long hair, trying to catch my breath and lower my uncharacteristic alarm.

When I felt my normal self again, I studied her bloodied Xena: Warrior Princess outfit—which I totally dug the role play, by the way—very welcome in the bedroom. Specks of blood had dripped on her skin from carrying the beast. That wouldn’t do. Well, it totally would for me. Demons were all for blood and gore. But the sight of her would traumatize all my kitchen crew, and I couldn’t afford any more trauma counseling, post-traumatic stress disorder compensation, and staff quitting on me. Let’s just say last month, we’d had a disturbing incident. There were only so many times I could wipe a mind before I scrambled their brains like eggs. I also refused to let the stench of a filthy, dead vampire insult my tavern. First, I cast a glamor over her, so no one noticed her hacking up the bovine. Next, I took care of the outfit.

“Let’s rescue this sexy role play outfit too, Xena Warrior Princess.” Another click had it off her body, cleaned and hanging on the coat stand in my office. No more vampire filth or stench. A third click had her standing in short denim shorts, with most of her ass showing, a white t-shirt done up at her navel, and high, come-fuck-me boots. “Now, that’s better.”

“Role play? Xena Warrior Princess?” Honestly. Come on now. Had she been living under a rock? Been raised in a segregated cult or something? Never left the house until her father died? Not knowing nineties cult classics was plain unacceptable. Old Vice had much to teach her and get her up to speed, especially on the roleplay in the bedroom aspect.

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