Page 33 of Sweet Vengeance

She thought of Malachi admitting how he hadn’t been touched, probably since he’d been fifteen years old, and felt her heart give a weird little jolt. He’d let her touch him—he’d let her—he’d wanted her—he lovescartoons, for fuck’s sake—

“It doesn’t mean anything,” shesaidstubbornly.

One night, she told herself. She’d have one night, their contract would end, and Joy would go back to her life, ready to start rebuilding the pieces her rapist had crumbled, hopefully leaving the demon and the entirety of this surreal interlude of her life behind her forever.

NINE

Malachi watched Joy with barely concealed hunger when she exited the bathroom in nothing but a flimsy little white towel. She smirked at him when she noticed him staring, and didn’t reprimand him when he adjusted his position on the sofa so he could continuestaring at her.

She didn’t close the netting when she took a seat on her bed after retrieving a container of moisturiser from her windowsill. His lower belly turned molten as he watched her massage the cocoa-buttery cream onto her skin until it melted and shone. She stroked it onto herlong,shapely legs; up her thick, soft arms.

She stood and turned around so her back was to him. Then she dropped the towel.

Malachi sucked in a sharp breath. Holy shit. Joy glanced at him from over her shoulder, her lips tugged up into a pleased little smirk. Fucking Almighty. She moisturised the rest of her body, practically caressing herself. Malachi was about to swallow his tongue.

Tonight was the night. Malachi shoved down the panic trying to smother his senses. His contract with Joy was soon coming to an end. He really didn’t want to think about it. Not now. Not yet.

He watched her, instead, as she slid on her underwear—soft, white satin—up her legs, settling them on her wide hips. Her bra followed, then she put on her blood red dress splattered with white. She combed her hair, did her face, and finally slid her feet into her heels.

She’d painted her nails earlier, the same blood red as her outfit. Her dagger lay in wait for her on top of the small kitchen counter.

She picked it up and turned to face Malachi, her aura bright and blinding.

Malachi shook with want. It was too soon. Their contract couldn’t end—not yet. Hewanted—Almighty, he’d never wanted so much. Just another day. Another week. There was so much possibility between them. He needed to know where—how far—it could take them. How could he taste something so sweet, feel something so good, only for it to end so abruptly? He couldn’t. He couldn’t.

But he was too afraid to ask.

All his life, there’d only been a single time Malachi had ever asked for anything.

It had been to thePriest, the first time Malachi had broken. He’d begged if not to free him, then to at least let him feed.

“I won’t run,” he’d pleaded, young and vulnerable, and oh so naïve, “I won’t try to escape or cheat the sect. Just please—please—justlet me…”

ThePriesthad disregarded his plea like he hadn’t spoken at all, emotionlessly reciting the words to the spell that would rip Malachi from hell to the mortal realm, where a gullible human willing to sell their soul waited.

The thought of Joy doing the same thing—of her expression twisting into a disgusted sneer if he tried to form the words kept Malachi from speaking. They’d barely spent three days in each other’s company. His research of human companionship told him it could be sometimes fickle and unpredictable, and other times, overwhelming but grounding. But the general consensus was that it would probably be really fucking creepy for him to ask after only three days.

Why would she even want a demon? Of course, Malachi had come across other demons—probably escapednicquiris, like he was—trawling the earth, but he’d kept clear of them just in case they weresentriesin disguise.

But now, he wondered. What if they were here by choice? What if they had contracts that bound them to the mortal realm—to a human, for the rest of their natural lives? The thought made his heart thump with yearning.

But could he ask that of Joy? It felt like too much, too soon.

“Are you ready, demon boy?” Joy’s expression was hard, determined.

Malachi wanted to kiss her. “Ready when you are, little tiger.”

Joy held out her arm. Malachi slid his palm into the dip of her elbow, holding her gently. They took a step, and the world blurred around them, morphing into the sitting room of the man they’d been terrorising.

They were a little later than usual, which Joy had wanted. She’d wanted her victim to be asleep when she finally finished him off.

Joy located the stairs, and she and Malachi made their way up. She guessed where the man’s bedroom was based on the layout of the house on the first try.

They didn’t need to sneak, Malachi’s abilities lending them the stealth of a predator in the night.

The man was indeed asleep, spread eagle on top of his sheets.

Joy’s lip curled with disgust as she watched him. “I wish I could haunt him in his dreams like he’s been haunting mine,” she whispered, words vicious. “How perfect would it be when he wakes up, thinking he’s safe, only to see me standing right here in his bedroom?”

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