Page 24 of Hellish Witch

He chuckled. “What if you chip a claw, sweetness? Your brother would skin me alive.”

Heat flooded my cheeks. It was the nickname he’d given me in my dream. He’d never called me that before. I would have remembered. It would be scrawled all over my stupid journal with little hearts all around it.

Had I done something before blacking out last night to make him call me that? That could explain why I’d dreamt about it too.

“Such a stalker,” I muttered, focusing intently on the other cabins making up the Hybrid Kingdom instead.

A hodge-podge of mismatched log cabins dotted the grass, edging the Bloodwood. The village sprawled for a mile beyond the imposing forest’s border, growing every month as more and more outcasts and hybrids found their way into the safety Rex offered to all.

Unless I murdered them, of course.

I swallowed down the guilt trying to choke me.

Crop fields, small orchards, and livestock paddocks had been cultivated along one edge of the village kingdom. Most preferred to hunt for themselves in the Bloodwood, though, so any animals kept were mostly for eggs and dairy.

My recent unintentional stay on Earth had me drawing comparisons between our two realms more than before. Where they had mass farming, we tended towards smaller practices, but what I wouldn’t do for a greasy fast food burger and chips salty enough to murder a snail right now.

I literally had the hangover from Hell.

My stomach grumbled, punctuating the thought, and I stifled a chuckle at my own stupid thoughts.

“Hungry, are we?” Killian’s lips quirked. “Too much glowing drain your energy?”

I flipped my messy red waves over a shoulder. “I’m not the one leaking everywhere. You look fresh from a massacre. And smell like it too.”

I wished that were true. Instead, his smoky-sweet scent taunted me.

He chuckled. “Not a morning person, huh?”

I rolled my eyes, but worry grazed me with its fangs. Killian might be one tough bastard, but he’d been hurt and bleeding for hours now.

And I’d only made things worse. Which seemed accurate for my life right now.

As a sexual demon like myself, Killian siphoned desire for a power boost and faster recovery.

My cheeks rouged again. According to my dreams, I had a few creative ideas for how to help without using my broken magic.

Sexual feeding didn’t have to mean getting frisky with someone, but I was still struck by the idea of him with someone else.

Someone like Zahara.

She was the opposite of me in almost every way. Tall and curvy, she had an innate allure to go with her every demonic feature. Demons prized all those useful extras: horns, tails, spikes, wings, limbs, you name it.

In comparison, I was practically human.

I hurried down the stone path, squeezing between two snowberry bushes the neighbouring houses had let grow out of control, trying to outpace my babysitter in case he could sense my bubbling insecurities.

He already thought of me as an awkward kid. His best friend’s sister. Nothing in the last twenty-four hours would help him take me seriously.

I swear, if he started to coo and pinch my cheeks, I’d nut him in the face. Diddly horns first.

It wasn’t long before a large redwood cabin peeked out from between the thinning buildings up ahead. At one time, it had been the only building here. Rex had slowly built more, budding off the simple one he’d started with. The thought of him all alone, in a kingdom for one, always made my heart ache.

“I think I can make it from here.” I shot Killian an arch look.

A wry smile answered. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“Go lie down before you fall down,” I said, shooing him with a hand. “At your age, you should take it easy.”

---