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I always thought dog drool was nasty. Turns out there are worse kinds.
If I even think about what it smells like, my stomach will want to turn itself inside out and I have a feeling that’ll only choke me to death faster.
Fucking hurry up and kill this asshole, Carter!
“I’m trying!” he yells, stabbing again and making it angrier. “Damn it.”
His throat. Go for his throat!
“I’m not seven foot tall,” Carter gripes, moving around under the demon and revealing a bloodied golf umbrella is his stabbing weapon. He stabs upward toward the point in his chest where his heart should be, and curses wildly when it doesn’t do anything.
I wince as my head starts to pound madly.
Fuck, a demon’s going to kill me.
“Rachel! Demon!” Carter yells.
No. Fuck no. Don’t risk our mate!
I fight a little harder, not succeeding in being dropped, but managing to gasp in another breath.
The demon’s grip tightens quickly. I can’t get him to let me go.
I try to shift, but it won’t happen. My wolf is angry, but he knows the transformation will get us killed quicker, so he doesn’t allow it.
Rachel steps inside, her horrified gaze moving from the demon to Carter to me, before she rises off the ground and produces a dagger out of thin air. She rises to the demon’s height, hiding behind him, and reaches around his thick neck to slash his throat open.
Blood spurts out and runs down his chest.
His grip loosens and I crash to the ground, gasping in air.
The demon starts to fall down on top of me, on top of Carter and I, and then it’s gone.
“No ghosts allowed in the house, remember?” Rachel says. “I should tweak the wards to cover solid demonic spirits.”
She helps me to my feet, concern in her bright blue eyes.
“Are you okay, Adrian?”
“You saved my life,” I tell her.
She smiles. “Well, now I guess we’re even.”
Chapter Seventy-Nine
Carter
Noonegoestobed without a shower. Not tonight. We’re all muddy and sweaty and covered in various non-sexy bodily secretions. I’m covered in demon blood, and believe me, it smells as bad as it sounds. It’s too thick to go into the drain, so I’m forced to scoop it up and flush it down the toilet. If I never have to stab another demon again, it’ll be too soon.
I shudder at the thought.
A ton of my temporary dye goes down the drain. For once, I’ve lightened my hair color by washing the dye out. That never happens, like ever.
I’m starting to remember why it’s my go-to.
I have medium-blue hair by the time I decide I’ve scrubbed my body into a new layer of skin.
I put a towel around me and step out of the room.
