Page 67 of Satan's Priest

39

GRACE

The week passed in a blur. I was struggling to cope with the breakup while also trying to shake off the sex dream I’d had. A question plagued my mind, and I didn’t have an answer.

Who was the person in my dream? It wasn’t Sebastian, because he didn’t have horns.

Maybe it was just my mind trying to process the trauma. As Father Thomas had said, dreams were dreams, and I couldn’t control them.

Guilt still weighed on me. Sebastian ran from me but then said he forgave me. The moment he told me it wasn’t my fault, with love in his eyes, I felt a moment of peace. My heart cracked when I thought about Layla in my dream. One second she was fine, and the next she was a bloody, shrieking mess.

I had failed her. I’d left her behind and never brought her body home with me so she could have a proper burial. And I’d eaten a piece of her.

I pulled the blankets over my head and curled into my bed, hiding from my family. It was the weekend, and I was still bleeding. Turned out I got my period when Dad touched me. He didn’t seem to notice the difference between virgin and period blood.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to ignore the shaking. It felt like someone was at the end of my bed, bouncing their hands on the mattress to annoy me. It always happened when I was upset or triggered so severely that I hallucinated. It sure as hell wasn’t ghosts. I couldn’t go down that path again.

“You’ve been in your bed all weekend, succubus. I’m sure you’re hungry right now.”

I tensed, threw back my sheet, and looked at Daiman. He stood at the end of my bed with a scowl, but his hands weren’t on the shaking mattress.

“Leave me alone,” I whispered.

Daiman crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowing even more. “What’s wrong with you?”

I sighed, plopped my head onto my pillow, and closed my eyes. “I’m just tired,” I half lied.

“Bullshit,” he scoffed.

His heavy footsteps came around the bed and stopped by my side. He stayed silent, and my face tingled from his lingering gaze. I opened my eyes and looked into his face. His dark eyebrows lowered more. His crimson eyes captivated me; they looked like rubies.

“Someone hurt you?” he grunted.

I shook my head and lowered my gaze down his body, then closed my eyes as my stomach took that opportunity to growl. “No.”

The bed wouldn’t stop shaking. I kicked my feet from beneath my covers, hoping it would stop the sensation.

Fingers curled under my chin, lifting my face and forcing me to look at Daiman as he scowled at me. I wish he wouldn’t. “You mad at me?” he murmured, surprising me with his question.

I never thought there’d be a day when a tattooed demon who could kill with just his looks would worry about me. He was a demon. What was there to worry about when I was no one to him?

A soft laugh bubbled in my chest, and I jerked my chin out of his hold. He gripped me harder and kept me in place, forcing me to continue looking at him.

I heaved a long sigh. “No, I’m not mad at you.”

His fingers curled tighter on my chin, almost painfully so. “Then tell me what’s wrong.”

“Why do you care?”

He stared at me, eyes narrowed and lips curled down in displeasure.

“Exactly. You don’t. So leave me alone.” I yanked my chin out of his hold and turned onto my other side, giving him my back. I covered my face with the comforter so he wouldn’t see my frustration.

“Oh, no you don’t, little succubus,” he growled and yanked back the sheets. The mattress dipped under his weight as he lay beside me and big-spooned me. That lasted all of two seconds before he grabbed my shoulder and spun me around to face him.

“Hey!” I whined.

He got up on his elbow, lying on his side and resting his hand against his cheek. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

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