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“How do you know my name?” I ask, because, like, how? It’s not like there was a selection process. A lineup with names, birthdates, measurements—he just shows up every hundred years on Devil’s Night, and there’s some random orphan virgin there for his taking.

No interviews or first dates. No names.

“You are offered to me,” he says, which isn’t really an answer to my question.

I blink, no longer caring how he knows my name because, after thinking it through, it’s not really relevant right now. Trying to figure out how to live through this is. “Do I get a say in this? This is like twenty-five kinds of felonies.”

His eyes flash orange and brighter red. “Your human laws do not apply here.”

I snort and roll my eyes, trying to look bored, but I’m actually a little more interested in this demon than I expected.

He strides forward, pushing townsfolk out of the way like he’s wading through a wheat field, and when he stops in front of me, a wave of heat warms my front as it pulses off his massive frame.

I’m five-foot-three. Five-five in the combat boots.

My eyes land somewhere around the middle of his barrel chest, and I have to tip my head back against the stake and keep tipping to find his face. Which, now that I look at it, isn’t actually half bad.

In fact, he’s the best-looking male I’ve seen in this town since…ever.

I’m drunk on fear hormones or something because this thing has black lips and a tongue that keeps flicking out and around its snout, and all I can think about is…I’ve never been kissed, let alone with tongue.

He looms over me, my gaze tracking the coarse fur covering his chest as he leans down, inhaling deeply over my head.

“You smell like…” He pauses, sniffing the air again. “Sugar and…peanut butter,” he says, sounding mildly perplexed, folding nearly in half to get his nose into my neck, breathing me in as his whole chest expands.

“Yeah, well, that’s because—”

He doesn’t let me finish, eyes flickering as his clawed fingers extend then curl into fists at his sides. “I will consume your fear.” His breath should be foul, but it’s cool and laced with an odd sweetness I can’t quite place right now, my innards rearranging themselves, and I’m not sure what I expected, but this isn’t it. “I will squeeze tears from your eyes. I will—”

“Okay,” I interrupt with a sigh, tugging at the bindings above my head, my shoulder muscles literally screaming, “You’re a soul eater and a perv. Wow. Keep your hooves to yourself.”

I lift my boot and kick with a grunt, landing a hard shot to his shin.

He stands upright, and I’m pretty sure the soul-eating is happening right now.

That air-disappearing thing happens again, the townspeople all looking at each other, then back at the horn man, then…then he laughs.

I think it’s a laugh, at least.

I’ve never heard anything like it. It’s an ancient sort of sound, hard and sharp and tearing out of his throat, setting my teeth on edge as my chest heats.

He’s still roaring and laughing when his hand sweeps over his head, coming down to land at the top of the stake.

I squeeze my eyes shut as the crowd gasps. There’s a popping, tearing sound as the pressure from the ropes around my wrists releases.

One second, I’m tied to a pole. The next, he sweeps me into his arms like a father lifting his daughter out of danger. It takes him one arm. One.

He’s holding a grown woman the way Big Earl from the Elks Lodge carries his little Shih Tzu Delilah around town in the crook of his arm.

I’m suddenly reminded of my own father before he died.

His smell, the feel of being in his arms. The way he used to rumble when he laughed, like this demon monster is doing. I feel safe for the first time in such a long time, it’s like I’ve rediscovered a limb or something.

And I like it. I’m sure my brain is just in the midst of stroking out, because I’m about to die and I’m… happy.

A contented sound halfway between a moan and a mewl eases up my throat as I rub my thighs together, my fishnets rasping as I settle into position, as he mutters something that sounds distinctly like fuck.

He tucks my knees up against his chest, wrapping his massive arm under me, binding me against him, and it’s more tender than threatening.