Page 38 of Hellish Fae
“What?” Damien asks, like I’m out of my fucking mind.
Somedays I am. Today isn’t one of them, though.
“It’s my brother’s birthday, and he always celebrates with a party. And I want to celebrate . . .” my voice drops to a whisper I know he’ll never hear. “. . . by killing him.”
There’s only one way I can live peacefully. And that’s by releasing the ancient demon inside me.
And I can’t do that unless my brother isn’t alive to steal her.
12
Beautifully Brainless
Zaviar
When I was little, I used to think demons and half-demons were just seraphs who sold their souls for sin.
I’m starting to wonder if this beautiful woman sold her fuckin’ brain instead of her soul . . .
I stand in Corva’s bedroom doorway, and she meets my eyes, but doesn’t stop her erratic searching through the small closet filled with only black lace and leather. A long sleek blade made of black steel hangs near the door, as if Corva doesn’t trust the very people she invited to live with her.
She doesn’t. I know she doesn’t.
And I respect her for that.
Aries huffs at the dark clothes and then, without a second thought in her brainless fucking skull, she crosses her arms and pulls the shirt over her head. My brows lift as the curve of her breasts push against her silk bra. Damien would probably have the decency to glance away, but I just eat up the expanse of her smooth stomach and the perfect curve of her hips. Her hands drop there, and when she starts to unbutton her jeans, her lashes lift once more, and she holds my gaze.
“Are you just here for the striptease, or did you have a specific asshole statement you wanted to make, Remorseless?” She doesn’t wait for my reply as she shoves the tight material down her thighs and kicks it off.
I think this is the longest I’ve gone without getting frustrated with her. Even with her tacking on that fucking nickname for me.
She’s flawless . . . flawless and frustrating.
“I just wanted to warn you. I know that if you’re set on fucking something up at the castle, then I won’t change your mind.”
“But,” she says for me.
“But don’t fuck up what we have here. Don’t draw attention to my brother and everyone else here for your own selfish purposes. You fuck us over and I’ll make a nice rustic coat rack out of your pretty little horns, Crow.” I keep my voice low and calm, even as she tries to balance on one leg and slip on four-inch black fuck-me pumps. She stumbles and pulls dresses off the hangers as she teeters headfirst into the closet.
Fucking hell.
How is she striding confidence and awkward fumbling all at once? It’s like she’s never worn shoes before or something.
It wouldn’t be so bad if she wasn’t sexy and suffering all at the same damn time. The firm curve of her ass is in the air wearing only a thin pair of silk black panties, and I’m supposed to stand here and withstand the thoughts of me fucking her hard and fast from behind.
Until she shoves out of the mess of hangers and twisted black clothes and finds her composure again. Her composure seems to consist of a constant sneer when she looks at me.
I’m used to it.
“If you’re so worried about it, maybe you should escort me,” she suggests stupidly as she clips on a diamond-studded collar of sorts.
Yeah, she definitely checked out that brain in exchange for an erotic library book.
“That’s a fuckin’ shit plan. I just said keep us under the radar, and your suggestion is for me to stride right into the radar?” My arms fold over my chest, and as much as she stumbled around to get them on, she walks in those heels like a feather caressing skin. In her heels and her newly polished spiraling, black horns, she’s nearly as tall as me. She now meets me at almost eye level instead of practically dick level.
A nice change, I’ll admit.
“My brother’s party is a mixture of high fae and low demons. You look high fae.”
