Page 14 of Interior Design for Demons
As I get closer to the archway in the left-hand wall of books, the panting and snarling grows louder. My heart thumps so hard I’m afraid it will be audible to whatever Thing is hiding in that space.
Should I turn around and go back the way I came? Could I even find my way back to the others? I’m sure the demons have some way to track us humans down here; they’ll find me eventually. But will they find me before I’m eaten by whatever lurks in that alcove?
Shit. I’m curious, but I’m not stupid enough to peek around that corner. Whatever’s making that horror-movie noise can’t be good news. It’s Hell, after all, and there has been a surprising lack of monsters. If I poke my head into that archway, there’s a good chance the Thing will see me and give chase.
I am not an idiot. I’m going back the way I came.
But even as I make the decision, something slides out of the archway—a slimy, four-toed foot, glistening sickly white, ending in curved claws of sharp bone. A slick clawed hand, also white, curls around the corner, followed by a blunt head with six slitted eyes embedded deep in gooey white flesh.
Yeah, there’s a hell-monster in the library. Of course there is.
Its neck jerks, head cocking aside, and then its entire body slides out of the alcove, torso heaving, multiple legs and arms scrabbling for purchase on the edges of the shelves. I don’t see a mouth—oh wait, the mouth is in the center of its chest—a squelching, sucking hole. So gross.
Time to run.
I whirl and flee, and the monster gurgles and gives chase. I topple stacks of books behind me to slow it down. Then I seize one immense volume, as big and thick as a home printer, and hurl it at the creature. The tome strikes the monster in its gross squishy face, and it squeals, but it doesn’t stop. It’s getting closer.
This is my fault for not staying with the group, for forgetting that even though this is a library, and it might feel like my safe place, it’snot. It’s a library in freakingHell.
I skid around another corner, tumbling another pile of books behind me to trip up the creature. A claw snags the hem of my pants—gorgeously patterned pants that I selected from my closet this morning—they rip like paper.
Yeah, I’m going to die. I’m going to be gulped into that monster’s weird chest-mouth.
Desperately I snatch another huge book and turn to face the beast, winding up for the throw.
An immense form crashes into the space between me and the monster. I can’t stop my muscles from following through—the book flies from my hands, striking the newcomer’s broad back right between his ashy wings.
Rath looks over his shoulder at me, disgust written all over his handsome face. “Ow.”
He’s huge, much bigger than I remember. His immense frame, hulking shoulders, and storm-cloud wings form a wall between me and the beast. His hair is in one thick braid today, and the long golden horns atop his head drag grooves through the wood-paneled ceiling as he walks.
I can’t see what’s happening, exactly, but there’s a lot of squelching and squealing going on, and a lot of glorious flexing of Rath’s bare back muscles. Damn that man has a nice body. Not man—demon. His fragrance fills the narrow, book-cluttered space—vanilla, cinnamon, and wood smoke. My knees weaken with want.
A moment later, Rath’s form shrinks down to normal human size. He’s still very tall, but his wings and horns disappear. He hooks a broad hand around my elbow, turns me away from the pile of desiccated, steaming monster, and pushes me along the corridor. “Go.”
“Okay, okay, I’m going. What did you do to it?”
“I put it down.”
“It’s dead?”
“For now. Things like that don’t really die here. What are you doing in this area of the library? Aren’t you supposed to be with the tour group?”
I scrunch my face like a kid caught sneaking candy. “I was. But the books looked so cool, and this was my only chance to explore. I figured someone would be keeping tabs on me, so I wouldn’t get into too much danger. And I was right, wasn’t I? You were looking out for me. What are you, my guardian angel?”
“Never call me that,” he snaps. “Calling a demon an angel is like calling a human a dog, or an ape.”
Delight spirals through me at eliciting such a strong reaction from him. I turn to face him, scanning his bare torso. He’s truly gorgeous, packed with hard muscle. I want to run my hand across those bulging abs; I think my palm would fit perfectly over each one of them. His pecs are huge, with tight brown nipples. Behind his thick collarbones, muscles arch up to the column of his neck.
“You were hiding a lot of goodness under that dress shirt, weren’t you,Angel?”
Rath grips my wrist with one hand and catches me around the waist with the other. His breath is hot in my face. “I said, don’t call me that. Do it again, and I’ll hurt you.”
“I don’t think you would.”
“Oh, I will. I’m ademon, Grace. I’m evil.”
“I’m aware,” I hiss back. “You stole me from my life, and I hate you for it. I will always hate you, no matter how many times you save me.”
