Page 129 of A Soul to Steal

“They have a youngling... I do not wish to hurt them,”he explained, poking his snout in her direction.

The tightness in Gideon’s expression fell. Then softness shone in his eyes towards Aleron, and his heart swelled in receiving it. It’d been too long since his bride had gifted him with a look of tenderness.

Those piercing green eyes had felt like a knife since they came to Earth, and now they glided over him with soothing warmth.

“Well, damn. As much as I don’t want to freeze, I get it.”

The fact he so easily accepted such an answer, rather than wanting to utilise their combined strength to thwart these Demons needlessly, reminded Aleron of why he’d begun to care for Gideon.He called me a monster, but I do not think he truly meant it.This alone was enough to prove otherwise.

Gideon tucked his axe back into the loop of his trousers as he turned and headed towards the exit. Aleron shuffled back to keep his sight on the Demons, his four-legged position low and ready to defend them should the need arise.

“If you head due east from here, you will find the northern Demonslayer stronghold. No Demons reside on that mountain, due to the violent humans. You should be able to find shelter there, if you are willing to risk it.”

With a grunt, Aleron nodded his thanks. The advice was appreciated, as it would limit their time in the storm.I would rather take him somewhere with no Demons.He’d rather not fight with his wing in the state it was in.

When they were at the exit, his tail slipping outside into the wet, he finally shifted back into his more humanoid form. His spine straightened, allowing him to better carry his little human.

“Human,” the male called, causing Gideon to look over his shoulder. As he drew his claws up his left thigh, over his pants, he stated, “I remember you.”

Nothing more was said, and Aleron shrugged at the Demon’s strange statement. Yet, when he faced Gideon, his expression had paled, turned haunted, and his heart accelerated.

Aleron quickly lifted him into his arms. He darted into the storm before the scent of his fear could affect the Demons.

Not even the pelting rain could pull his bride from his slack-jawed stupor. Just when he thought his human was getting better, he looked worse than ever before.

Despite the agony each flap of his wings gave, he worried for him as he searched for somewhere safe.

Whatever the Demon had implied, it’d shaken him.

Gideon didn’t think he’d ever experienced a shock so intense that everything became non-existent. Everything disappeared – Aleron, the storm, even the senses pertaining to himself.

To stare one’s own death in the face, after it’d already ripped him from the world, was just too much to wrap his head around. Then finding out his cannibalistic murderer had some kind of wife, a child, and wasn’t just a monstrous nightmare stalking the shadows for another creepy taste of his flesh was daunting.

In his mind, he’d painted the Demon who killed him eight years ago as something entirely different.

He’d been bigger in his memories, uglier, slimy as he clung on for dear life so he didn’t fall to his death. The slashing scars across his torso burned, like he was re-experiencing a shallow memory of them.

The dreams he had of the Demonevery single nightwere of laughter he didn’t think had ever happened. Of taunting, cruelthreats, and a madman bent on eradicating humanity like a despicable villain.

Instead, his killer had been protective of a child. Had held back his upset woman. Had managed to calm and persuade a threatening Duskwalker, without even sparing Gideon a hungry or spiteful glance.

Their eyes had met, but he’d thought nothing of it at first. Yet another Demon, one who just so happened to have wings. A coincidence.

The Demon from eight years ago didn’t have any human skin upon his face or shirtless body. His hair had been like a void, not the tan colouring it currently was. He looked so different, to the point even his boorish fangs had stopped protruding past his lips and now sat neatly behind them.

If he hadn’t grabbed his thigh, Gideon may not have believed him.

That fateful night, he’d taken his knife from his belt loop and shoved it into the Demon’s thigh in order to get it to release Emerie. Then he’d dragged it downwards as he climbed his body. He’d been intending to grab a wing and hopefully crash them towards the ground, with the Demon below him to protect him from the fall.

Instead, his torso had been ripped apart, and he still remembered that gouging agony.

A part of him wished the Demon hadn’t said anything. He’d been just fine thinking the worst of him.

But, as Aleron finally touched land and crossed a threshold that ceased the ever-pelting rain, a strange emotion washed over Gideon. A gentle flow of realisation coursed throughout, invading his veins and softening his muscles.

All the lasting hate, anger, and regret started to wash out of him. All of it due to the Duskwalker who just held him tightly inthe cold and barren cave, as if he didn’t wish to let him go just yet.

If Gideon had any chance of accepting Aleron, he needed to let go of that Demon. To no longer look back on that night as an unfortunate event that continued to birth misgivings, ‘what ifs,’ and regret. Nothing could change it, and his killer wasn’t as cruel as he made him out to be.

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