Page 59 of Demon Demands

Not too much longer. We still wanted to play.

“My Novak,” we purred to the hovering vampire.

“Yes, Sloane.” He didn’t call us Trouble, but that was okay. There were two of us now, not just Sloane.

His Trouble.

“Would you and my Vaughn take a step back, please? We don't want our wings to hit you.”

My treasured mates both took one step back, my gorgeous vampire taking up our left and my stunning fae going to our right, leaving us plenty of space between the two of them.

“Remember,” we drawled, smiling roguishly as we listened to our raspy voice bounce around our surroundings, “We were quiet and sweet until you pissed us off. We kept our mouth shut through your degrading trash talk and your insulting insinuations when it came to prices for our trust and our body. We’re worth more than you can afford, a true one of a kind specimen.”

We raised an eyebrow at the brick-colored demon, looking every inch the spoiled demonic queen that we were.

“When we finish talking to you, you’ll have three seconds to take your hand off of us or we’re going to remove it. We are going to kill you and your friends, but only you can decide if we kill you here and now or if we hunt you down later.”

We thought he’d hear the quiet menace in our voice, but he seemed to not have any self-preservation instincts.

Once again, he tightened his grip. We smiled. It was such a silly exchange. He didn’t want to let the dick measuring contest end, especially with him dead last.

Our horns pierced through the curled strands of our hair in such a slow manner that it caused physical pain. We loved nothing more than a flashy display of power, though.

Our tail snaked out from under the skirt we were wearing, lashing back and forth like an agitated house cat.

Our wings, though. They ripped violently through the flesh of our shoulders between one blink and the next. The ivory-colored bones stained with the blood dripping from the tips of our wings.

The slow cock of our head to the right would let our treasured mates know that they were dealing with the True Devil.

When Sloane was deep in thought, she’d often tilt her head to the left a touch. When we were both in charge of Sloane’s body, we would drop our head so far to the right, it would seem like we were trying to look at the male in front of us sideways.

We weren’t even bothered by his fat fingers still coiled around our neck.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, my treasured mates,” we murmured to them in a throaty rasp. “You don’t like this male. He’s certainly not one of ours, but he’s not one of your friends, right? I would like clarification before we kill him. Though my better half says no, I’d still like to hear it from you.”

My Briggs grunted before answering us, “That’s right, Sloane.”

We hummed under our breath for a moment, then leaned forward, forcing the male to snatch his arm back as our body temperature rose.

“You don’t smell terrible. We wonder if our Jack would like to feast on your hearts. We hear three in you, and we'll be taking them with us as gifts. And your friends’ tongues since they appear useless.”

The fear began to waft into us like a tidal wave, momentarily curing my insatiable hunger, but we weren’t done with them yet. It wasn’t nearly enough. We hummed pleasantly as the trio started to sweat.

Sloane flashed an image at me mentally, asking me not to kill the male’s two friends. Words and images rolled through our shared mind as she rifled through their memories. Blackmail. Children. Not friends. She relinquished the last tethers of her control after that. I had to be sure to leave her a gift for willingly sliding into the passenger seat.

I reached for Dale, but instead of wrapping my hand around his throat in the same manner he had done to us, I shoved my talons into the flesh of his neck.

He tried to struggle beneath my grip, but I squeezed tighter, delighting in the feel of my talons touching his windpipe. Blood trickled down his body and my fingers, running all the way to my elbow where it dropped onto the footpath.

“You disgust me, Dale.” I laughed bitterly at him as he gurgled, choking on his blood. “Me. The so-called True Devil of Hell. That’s quite a large feat for such a small male.”

Tracing the talons of my right over his cluster of hearts, I ripped his shirt open and began carving my mark into his chest. Strips of flesh caked beneath my nails as I cursed my choice of killing him on the spot instead of hunting him later. If I’d let him go, I could have taken my time torturing him when I found him. But two more of his victims stood before me.

Paul and Andy started inching backward, but I wasn’t done with them either. We needed to have a chat.

“Would you mind,” I asked, turning my head to my treasured mates, “keeping them in place for a moment longer?”

“Yes, ma’am,” my Vaughn answered immediately, ice forming around their feet to keep them immobile.