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“Leon, what...what are you doing?”
“Warning off the other Eld,” he muttered. He collected the other two heads and stalked off again, moving along the trees until he found the next spot he approved of and lined up another stake. I followed tenderly, my feet bare since I hadn’t had the sense to put on shoes before I went outside to fight monsters. I lingered beside him, trying not to stare at the heads.
“Their skulls are the only part of them that don’t rapidly decay,” he said, spearing the ground again. “Keeping them around can make the others a little less eager to come into yard.”
I winced in disgust as he mounted the next skull on the stake. The once-white eyes in the skeletal sockets had shriveled and blackened like old grapes. Absolutely disgusting.
“I can’t just keep severed heads around my yard,” I said.
“Oh,I’msorry.” Leon turned to face me. “Do they not fit your aesthetic? Woulddeathsuit your aesthetic better?” He paused, giving me a long look up and down. His eyes lingered on my neck, on the numerous hickeys he’d left there, and he grinned sadistically. “Red and purple suits you well.”
My cheeks heated as I rubbed my neck. Every day since our tryst in the graveyard, I’d felt giddy pleasure at the sight of those marks. They represented the ecstasy of the pain I’d endured.They were a scarlet letter, branding me as wicked, lustful girl.
“I should turn your ass the same colors for all the trouble you’ve caused me,” Leon grumbled, and I sputtered in protest. “Losing the goddamn grimoire...you should have given it back to me to begin with, in St. Thaddeus. Now I have to run all over the Pacific Northwest to track the thing down.”
“God, you’re an even bigger asshole than usual today.” I folded my arms. Like clockwork, my raging horniness at his threats flared up again. If spanking me would make him feel better, damn, he could go for it.
As I’ve said: self-preservation, I have none.
As I kept following him, I began to realize just how tired he looked. His hands were filthy, there was a tear in the back of his shirt, dirt smudged along his neck and in his disheveled blood-stained hair, and there was a faint, dirty, red gash peeking over the top of his t-shirt from his shoulder. I gulped, remembering the oozing blood from a couple nights past. “Are you hungry? Do you need a snack or something? Will that calm you down?”
He only grunted as he chose the next spot to display my morbid protection charm.
“Why did you come back here, Leon?” I said, as he mounted the last head and ran his filthy hand through his hair. “I don’t have the grimoire—and I’mnotgiving you my soul.” His eyes flashed as he glared at me. “So why did you bother to come?”
“...wasting time,” he muttered. He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking at me as if he wanted to say more, his lips pressed into a thin, hard line.
I stepped closer, closing the gap between us. He didn’t smell sweaty, like I would expect from a man who’d been running through the forest all night. Instead, he still smelled faintly of wood smoke and lemon, the kind of comforting smells that made me want to get close and close my eyes.
I reached for the neckline of his shirt, and he didn’t move a muscle. I pulled it down, carefully, revealing the rest of the red, angry mark I could see on his throat. But it was so much worse than merely a mark. A jagged, open wound ran down his chest. The skin was torn open, the wound deep, ripped through his tattoos. It was darkened with dirt, reddened, and puffy. My eyes widened as I stared.
“Leon…”
“It will heal,” he said firmly. “The beasts cut deep. I was trying to be careful...” His voice lowered, almost imperceptible as he said, “Didn’t...didn’t want to hurt the cat.”
“And you’re limping.” I frowned. “You’rehurt, Leon.”
He cleared his throat and took a step back, tugging my hand from his shirt. “It’s nothing. I’ve had worse.”
But it wasn’t nothing. It was a wound he’d sustained while trying to protect me, while trying to protect Cheesecake. He’d let himself get hurt rather than risk injuring the animal I loved. He could have let Cheesecake die, and abandoned me to the same fate.
But he hadn’t.
Why the hell did this demon care if I died?
“It’s filthy,” I said. “It’ll get infected…”
“Demons heal far better than humans do. It’s fine.”
“Come inside.” I motioned toward the house. “Let me clean it.”
He blinked rapidly. It was subtle, but as he looked between me and the cabin, he actually looked confused. “Inside?”
“Yes. Come inside. Get a shower. Let me clean it at least.” I motioned to him, trying to urge him to follow me like a lost dog. “Just...come. Please. Let me help you.”
The soap smelled exactly like her: peppermint and sage, tinged with the natural smell of her from all the times it had been rubbed over her skin. Her scent was everywhere in the house—obviously, she lived here, but being surrounded by it for a prolonged length of time was making my cock strain.
It had hardly been two days since I’d fucked her, but it felt like ages. Leaving her needy and desperate on campus yesterday hadn’t been as easy as I’d thought it would be. I’d worked myself up too much teasing her, and had gotten so restless that I’d gone back to the cemetery and found her panties in the grass.
