Page 11 of Hellish Witch

Shanlir scowled over my shoulder, and I gripped my now empty glass tighter, already suspecting who was behind me.

“Oops,” a smooth feminine voice drawled.

I turned to glare at Zahara. “Watch it.”

The smirking demon was everything a succubus should be, alluring in a way that went beyond her stunning looks. Long, sumptuous hair fell in waves down to her thighs, the dim lighting darkening the forest-green shade until it almost looked black. It covered more of her curvy body than the lacy chemise dress masquerading as clothing.

If I wasn’t careful, I’d get knocked out by a rogue tit when it popped out of the ridiculously tight push-up bra she’d squeezed into.

She was a hybrid, like nearly every demon here, except she was a cross between two closely linked sexual breeds. The snooty brat took that as her right to look down at the rest of us, like being a purer hybrid somehow made her better.

If she was the purest hybrid, I was the muttiest mutt. Only half demon, I lacked a lot of the usual traits. Sure, I had horns, claws, and fangs, but they were almost cute compared to a true demon’s. I was practically a harmless chibi version.

“Sorry, love, didn’t see you there,” she purred, blinking long sooty lashes in feigned innocence. “What with all therealdemons around drawing the eye.”

Rake your claws over her throat. Make her bleed.A scratchy voice in my head hissed at me, begging for violence.

I ignored it with all the delusion I usually used to fantasise about me and Killian. My mental breakdown was looming larger with every passing day, but hearing voices was a fun new development to sprinkle in the with the flashbacks, panic attacks, and corrupted magic.

“B-Back off,” Shanlir stuttered, barely audible over the music. Her clenched fists shook at her sides.

She’d been raised a slave to one of the fight rings in a fear demon kingdom to the north. Considered too weak to put on a good show, she’d served drinks instead, often becoming a snack herself when the guests terrified her enough.

I never wanted her anywhere near violence again.

Zahara continued, as if my friend hadn’t even spoken. She raked her gaze from the points of my mini horns to the heeled sandals hugging my feet, her lips pouting in mock sympathy. “It must be hard, living amongst demons. Being away from your own kind.”

Her tone was seductive even while insulting me. She’d thought herself the queen of the kingdom, since she’d set her sights on my brother, the king. But he’d mated a stunning witch from the human realm a few weeks ago, and now Zahara’s mean streak was growing out of control.

“Just because I’m half-mage doesn’t mean I’m not demon enough to put you on your perky arse,” I hissed, my jaw aching with the need to sink my teeth into her throat and rip it out.

Anticipation weaved through me, coaxing my violent side out to play. My claws curled into the glass in my hand. An unhinged need to lash out burned through me until I felt like I’d explode if I didn’t attack.

Darkness writhed, poking at my insides as it hunted for a way out.

Fear sliced through my rage as I struggled to hold myself together, for Shanlir and the sake of everyone here. The glass shaking in my hand told me I was doing a terrible job at that too.

At least scratch an eye out. Crush it in front of her.

I pretended the psychotic voice rasping in my head didn’t exist.

A tittering laugh fell from Zahara’s glossed lips. “I’m sure you are, honey, but that doesn’t mean you’re succubus enough to claim a man.” Challenge flared in her sparkling eyes, and a sinking feeling weighed my gut. “I can’t imagine anyone would want to touch you. Poor Eve, you’ll probably die unmated.”

Her condescending tone set my fangs on edge.

She turned her back on me in a big fuck-you insult, letting her smooth arrowhead tail slide up to brush my bare arm. The rich glide felt like satin, seeming to mock me for my lack of one.

Shanlir trembled beside me, lips too thin, eyes too wide.

It helped me swallow down the violent rage. Gripping her shoulder, covered in soft ridges from her mantle of aquatic scales, I searched her gaze. “Hey, why don’t we go get a drink?”

“Y-Yeah, she’s not worth the bloodshed. You’d only have to heal the ungrateful boar afterwards.” She sniffed.

I didn’t correct her. It had been weeks since my healing magic had actually worked.

“Exactly.” I tried on another tight smile and stuffed down the horrifying sensation of something trying to slither out of my skin.

Like a monster of the deep, it watched and waited, lurking just below the surface.

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