Page 66 of Demon Demands

Blow after blow, the druid continued, blood splattering his face and clothes, flying from his fists.

I was disappointed that dumbass number one didn’t get back up. He just lay on the ground, groaning with his hands cupping his face. That wouldn’t get him out of an ass-whooping, though.

I stomped on his face twice before kicking him in the ribs, lifting him off the ground with the toe of my boot. It was a dirty move when it was clear that he was done, but I didn’t give two fucks.

I was a dirty bastard.

Dragging him over to York’s side, I let him fall unceremoniously next to his buddy’s body. I couldn’t tell if dumbass number two was dead or alive, but I was about to give them a warning. At least one of them, anyway.

“Can we get two ales and some napkins, please?” York asked the shocked bartender with too much pep in his voice.

We’d gained quite the audience during our altercation, and the druid cared even less than I did.

The bartender handed York two pint glasses filled with a purplish liquid — that Sloane had promised was just like Earth’s ale — and two clean rags with dampened ends.

While York cleaned himself up, we sipped our drinks, and I waited for the first signs of life from the dumb cunts laying at our feet.

York had his back leaned against the bar top, his left ankle crossed over the right as he sighed down at his cream-colored shirt covered in blood.

A sickly wet sound drew my attention to the writhing demons, the pain setting in as they regained consciousness.

I pushed away from the bar, standing between them before kneeling down so that they could see my face.

“Let that be a minor lesson in understanding what the word no means,” I patronized them.

“The Devil will be watching you both now. You should be happy that we were the ones who beat the shit out of you. We went easy. She’d have just killed you and walked across your bodies on her way back to her mates.”

York and I left them where they lay, groaning and unable to get up. The crowd parted as we sauntered back to our table to join the group.

Too many eyes tracked our steps, making me feel more on edge than before. One set in particular felt like a hot iron on my face. A gray demon sitting alone in a corner booth, his unrelenting focus zoned in on our group.

Barbie smiled at us as we took our seats.

“Did you enjoy yourselves?” she purred, our vicious streaks a clear turn on for her, even if that beating wasn’t so bad.

Vaughn took in the state of York’s shirt, his eyes wide as he asked, “What the fuck happened to you two?”

York laughed, insulted that the fae thought something had happened to us. “Nothing.”

Novak cocked his head to the right, observing our relaxed demeanors. “Then why are you bloody? It smells weird.”

“Didn’t you hear the fight?” I inquired, shaking my head at him in disbelief. “You’re a fucking vampire, you hear everything.”

“I mean… I heard it, but I didn’t really pay it any attention. Fights happen in every bar,” Novak responded nonchalantly.

“It’s a good thing we didn’t need any backup from this fuckface.” I nodded my head toward Novak while talking to York. “You think he would have heard us if we were yelling his name?”

“Oh, I definitely would have heard that,” Novak drawled, waggling his eyebrows at York and me. Barbie covered her face with her hands as she giggled.

“Stop showing her your sexual fantasies, Novak. We’re not fucking.” I bounced my fingers between him, York, and myself.

“Well, fuck. There goes my Sunday night plans,” Barbie divulged.

“There’s still time,” the vampire whispered to her before turning back to York and me. “That’s not what I was showing her. It was actually the two of you, animated and fighting in mud. Now, tell us what happened before I think up a whole episode in The Adventures of Briggs and York.”

“We taught some fuckers what no means, that was all.” I shrugged one shoulder as I gulped down my ale.

It was way too sweet. Whiskey was better after a fight, and I was more than ready for Earthly alcohol again.