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A lot of dead vibrators, that’s what.
I even switched to freaking rechargeable batteries because I felt bad about the pile of the regular ones I was piling up.
It was no use, though.
It barely took the edge off.
Which left me feeling constantly on edge and frazzled. That’s not even to mention my short fuse.
I actually had to apologize to my sparring partner the day before because I’d clearly been taking out my sexual frustration on him.
Thank God we were relatively quick healers, because I’d left a bloody pulp of that poor third-year student.
I mean, it was probably good for him. Getting your ass whooped was an important part of the schooling. It made it less likely that your name would be etched onto the wall of fallen demonslayers.
But still.
I felt bad about it.
I’d only lost control because of the frustration.
And, normally, I’d be able to channel the issue into a good, old-fashioned slaying.
The problem was, my current mark was proving a lot more elusive and clever than he had any right to be.
That was the problem with older demons.
The longer they were around, the smarter they got, the better they became at blending in with the humans.
The newly emerged from hell demons were so much easier. They came out mostly feral still, leaving a path of bodies and traumatized victims in their wake that conveniently led right to them.
Then I could commence the satisfying stabby-stab part that managed to bank down the sexual frustration for at least a couple of days.
See, the problem was, as you got good at killing, as you proved you were smart and capable with a sword, they stopped giving you the easy kills, leaving those for all the little baby demonslayers, all fresh-faced from The Academy and ready to kill some baddies.
That left the more seasoned of us to handle the older demons. Which was a lot less fun. And required a lot more of this bullshit sitting and waiting and chasing down leads.
Granted, I was grateful to be in the field.
I could have been stuck back at The Academy full-time, teaching the new batches of demonslayers.
Don’t get me wrong, it was an important job. It was even an honor to be asked. Someone had to train the kids. Someone had to make sure they weren’t being launched out into the world unprepared, meeting a far too early grave.
It just wasn’t what I wanted for my life.
All those younger guys who were going to turn up their noses at me, forcing me to work even harder to make sure I whooped each of their asses? No thanks. I’d dealt with that enough.
Leave me alone to deal with the big, ugly demons.
It suited me better.
Besides, no one was actively breathing down my neck when I was doing field work like they would be if I were at The Academy. Sure, yeah, I had to check in with my superior. But every couple of days only. All the other times, I was left alone. Which was how I liked things.
Except, of course, when I was losing a battle with my libido, and could really use a distraction. Any kind of distraction. Screw the demon. I would be happy to see a human mugger I could chase down. Something. Someone.
I couldn’t go to him.
I told him the last time that it was the last time.
Admittedly, though, it was always “the last time.”
Those were usually the final words I said to him as I was making my way to the door of whatever hotel, motel, or random building I’d met up with him in.
At those moments, yeah, I meant the words too. Because I got a chance to get all that pent-up energy out. It helped me think clearly again.
When my mind was clear of the heavy fog of unmet desire, there was no way I could look back on the encounter we’d shared as anything but an epic freaking mistake.
It didn’t matter if it felt good.
Great.
Fine, it felt fucking world-shatteringly great.
But that wasn’t the point.
It was wrong.
It was so wrong that I beat myself up about it for at least a couple of weeks after a meet-up.
Which was why I always told myself it could never happen again.
Each time made the situation more and more dangerous. I didn’t even know what the punishment would be for a demonslayer getting into a sexual relationship with a creature they literally exist to kill. I was honestly afraid to ask, to have anyone look at me sideways, to start to think I was asking for a reason.
Which I would be.
But I could never let anyone know that.
While I didn’t know what the punishment might be, I did know that it would hurt. At best. At worst, well, I was pretty sure they weren’t above taking me off the face of the Earth.
That was what demonslayers did with abominations.
