Page 31 of The Monster of Darkspell Comics
“Come on, Sally,” the boy murmurs. He sighs and throws back his head with a groan when she whimpers. “Don’t cry. It’s Halloween, remember? People are just in costumes. And look, he’s got that big bowl of candy. You want some, right? Let me show you; it’s simple.” Striding forward, he holds his bag. “Trick-or-treat.”
Pashar rumbles in approval, keeping it lower than usual so that it doesn’t spook the little one too much as I fetch a handful of candy from the bowl and toss it into the kid’s sack. He turns to the little girl with a triumphant look. “See. Just like that.”
As if on cue, Pashar shakes the bowl in her direction so that the little foiled wrapped pieces rustle together. Her tiny teeth sink into her bottom lip, but she nods and moves closer. Blinking rapidly, she holds up her little bag.
“Twick-o-tweat,” she lisps in a very little voice, her eyes like saucers in her head.
“Happy Halloween, brave little pixie,” my demon murmurs, his voice pitched low in a soft purring sound as her bottom lip wobbles.
She blinks again, her lashes spiky with her unshed tears as she regards him with surprise as he continues to purr. Gradually, the corners of her lips tip and a tiny, watery giggle escapes her.
“Just like a kitty,” she observes.
Pashar nods solemnly. “All the best monsters are,” he assures her. “And all the best do a little magic... just for special pixie princesses.”
Wait, what? I give him a confused look, but he frees one of his hands from the side of the bowl and curls it low in the air between them, spinning shadows and a pearly gray mist gathering between his fingers and palm as tiny fairy lights spring up to zip around before dancing merrily around his hand. Her little mouth gapes open, and she leans in closer. The lights make little bell-like sounds as they rise to her, their soft glow illuminating her face and shimmering in her eyes.
I’m pretty sure I am gaping a little as well as I watch the interaction between them. Pashar is always so utilitarian about his skills. There is nothing visible to see outside of his art when he is working on a new comic, and his glamour settles around him instantaneously without a lot of fanfare. This is honestly the most show I’ve ever seen from him. The fact that he’s doing it for a frightened little girl on her first time out trick-or-treating is the cutest thing ever. His gaze shifts, his eyes meeting mine, and I swear I see a hint of amusement in those glowing depths that makes me want to screw my face up and stick my tongue out at him to show him that I’m definitely not impressed. It would be a lie, but I would do it. Except that it would also draw attention to what he’s doing, and it’s obvious that it is meant to be a small thing just for her as her brother digs through his bag.
I give myself a hard mental shake, grab a big handful of candy, and drop it into her bag. The fairy lights are immediately forgotten and wink out of existence as her head drops to investigate her loot. A happy squeal leaves her, and she runs over to show her brother her score, our shop left behind as the children hurry off to their next stop. My demon stares after them for a moment until he realizes that he’s still purring, and the sound cuts off like an engine.
“Not a word of this to anyone,” he grumbles before levying a menacing growl towards a group of teens who grin with delight in response.
“Of course,” I murmur. “A demon enjoying Halloween would be just terrible.”
“I’m not enjoying it,” he denies, but I smirk at the blatant lie in his voice. “Experts say that sugar gives nightmares, so I’m just fueling them and prepping them for their nightmare demons.”
What a load of bull crap. I bite back a laugh because we both know that he would do nothing of the sort if he truly believed that.
“Absolutely. It can’t be for any other reason. If it were, what would the other demons say?”
The look he gives me as the children rush away with their candy is one that promises the best kind of retribution. A punishment I definitely mean to collect.
Chapter 24
Pashar
Iam glad when we can finally close up for the night. Although I refuse to admit it to my mate, the festivities were surprisingly enjoyable, especially seeing the children weaving their little fantasies all around them as they raced through the mall in their various costumes. Being a nightmare demon, I was able to see the trails of those subtle magics, and so I gently teased them in the right direction so that they may sleep well and explore their little adventures in the dream world fearlessly. Something else I refuse to admit if my mate catches on, but I wager she already suspects some of my softness. She keeps it to herself, but I see it in her knowing smile as we go about our routine, closing up the shop.
I pull off my mask and set it on the counter, happy to be rid of it. It takes a little more work to unpin the tail, but that soon joins it. I consider tossing the ugly thing into the garbage bin, but I look down at the costume and shake my head. Humans masquerading as demons. It seems bizarre to me, but then perhaps not so much as I recall more than one devilish mask during the Carnevale in Venice, even in the midst of the plague. I had worn one myself, I recall, before I traveled south to Florence. I had stolen it from a vendor and worn it out of mockery as I laughed at the ridiculousness of masquerading in something so close to my true form as I frolicked among the humans. I had boldly revealed the truth as I wandered among the company of many others who were similarly masked in thehope of going unnoticed by the rampaging evil, unaware of the actual demons in their midst.
Although the time of year is wrong, staring down at the mask brings it to mind. That previous mask I had tossed into a fire, chortling with amusement but with little other thought for the mask itself. I had not thought of it for some time. Strange that the memory returns so sharply to me now when, in contrast to this Halloween, that carnival bore no true delight for me. This mask is a pale, ridiculous imitation of the artfully crafted masks I wore before, and yet this time, I do not wish to throw it away. It is a novel feeling for me as I’m seldom one to keep mementos.
I believe that this one I shall keep.
Picking up my bag, I slide my work into it and follow with my supplies and tools before at last slipping the mask in with them all. Dropping the bag back onto the table, I don’t bother to pick up the cloth tail that falls to the floor. Instead, I head over to the entrance and pull down the grating, my gaze straying to my mate, and her little fake tail swinging behind her, as she bends to clean up a mess. Lust hammers through me at the sight of her pert bottom rising into the air, even with that ridiculous tail attached to it, and a smirk curls my lips as I drag the grating down the rest of the way to the floor and lock it into place. With a final shake to make sure that it’s secure, I abandon the entrance and slip quietly between the shelves, my gaze fastening on my female as my desire flares and fans through me, the curling with greater intensity as my cock throbs within my pants.
I’m unable to restrain my growl as I slide into place behind her. She freezes for a heartbeat and then slowly straightens as tiny bumps break out of her flesh. It is exquisite how responsive she is. My nostrils flare, dragging in the scent of her nervousness and arousal mingling together. I haven’t moved even an inch closer when the lights in the mall click off one by one, plunging us into darkness, broken only by the glow of the signs. I leanforward in the darkness and slip my long tongue from my mouth so that it trails along the sensitive skin of her shoulder and up her neck. I can taste and smell her readiness, and it makes my cock tighten, and it rises in response, pushing through my genital slit, eager to finally claim my mate.
There is a dance of subtle energies in the air, their dance winding faster and more vibrantly with the season of the hunt. I ignore it as I always do since demons do not involve themselves in the hunts of the fairy and other beings that take what is theirs in the waning months. And yet, I feel aroused with my impending claim like any male who had secured a mate by the laws of the hunt. It thrills me, winding a fiery path of pleasure deeper than ever into the core of my being. I tremble, my hands shaking slightly as they come up to settle along Fanny’s shoulders. I stroke her upper arms and drop my head lower to nuzzle her neck as I deeply breathe in her scent. I could easily push my bag aside and fuck her on this counter, her pale golden breasts lifting in offering to the darkness as I bend her over it. It tempts me, and I’m not usually one who ignores my temptations, but I will make an exception this time.
Fanny is right. We only mate once, and this time should be perfect. So, I file that highly arousing image away to explore later and bend just enough to tuck my arms securely around my mate so that she is easily lifted off her feet the moment that I stand. Fanny clings to me in reaction, her small arms curling tightly around my neck as she gasps in surprise. A pleased purr rattles through me, and I hug her close, my nose brushing the soft skin beneath her jaw where her scent is the richest.
“I guess it’s time,” she observes with a small, nervous laugh.
I don’t respond with words, but my purr kicks up a notch as I adjust my grip on her just enough to scoop my bag up and loop it over my shoulder before curling my arm possessively around her again. Fanny’s small body fits perfectly within my arms andagainst the giant bulk of my body. She is mine, and I don’t leave any doubt in her mind of my claim as my tongue slips out once more to bathe her neck in more of my saliva that has become pheromone rich ever since my body began priming for mating days ago. There is an extra something in it as well, and I know when she feels it because she gasps and wiggles provocatively against me as her scent blossoms with the ripest flavor of need. Her nipples scrape against my chest through her shirt.
“Oh!” That word slips from between her lips as her body shivers against mine.
