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And smelled Poison.
Tossing his broom handle aside, he got to his feet and jacked up the camo pants he’d stolen. “You stay here.”
“We ain’t stayin’ shit, man—”
As Mr. Mouthy went to get off the fridge lid, Lash threw a blast of energy at him, pinning the subordinate sonofabitch right where he was.
Leaning forward on his hips, Lash met him directly in the eye. “If you want to try that out for fun”—he pointed to the slayer in the corner—“go right ahead.”
Mouthy’s buddy spoke up. “Nah, we good. He good. Chill.”
“I thought so.”
As Lash walked out of the storage area, he shut the door with his mind and waited by the tub full of blood. The fact that his cock thickened between his legs was exactly the kind of reaction he wasn’t looking for, and he put faith in his temper as it also rose to attention.
He was not about to let a good fuck screw him.
The brunette started down the basement steps, and as the clip, clip, clip of her heels preceded her, he pictured her legs descending, shapely and lean, and her manicured fingertips tickling the top of the old balustrade, and her tits casting shadows even in the darkness. The fact that he fully hardened made him think of the lessers he had just spawned.
They were now impotent, a little fact that—oopsie—he might have forgotten to mention in the preamble. But their sexless lives were a saving grace for them right now.
Lash might not want to be with the demon all twenty-five, eight. But he sure as shit wasn’t going to put up with anything looking at her with ideas—
Devina emerged at the base of the stairs, and as she stopped, he looked her up and down. Well… fuck.
Literally.
Her dark eyes sought out where he was standing, as if she could see him even though he remained hidden behind his optical illusion of vacancy. It was galling, to not face her legitimately, but he didn’t understand how he’d ended up so locked in on her, with her.
Until suddenly, for whatever reason, he’d been set free.
So no, he wasn’t rolling any dice with getting re-caught. He had a war to restart and a King to murder. He was too fucking busy to get entangled, no matter how hot the rope—
The demon started coming toward him, her strides slow, her eyes drifting to the tub, which would appear dingy and dust-covered to her, not filled with the blood and pair of hearts that were actually in there: She was just like the cops, blind to whatever he didn’t want her to see.
He liked that he had some power over her.
When she paused by the porcelain bath and leaned in to inspect its belly, her winged brows dug in over the bridge of her perfect nose. Then she faced him and the door he’d closed behind himself. Two steps forward and she was directly in front of him, chest to chest.
Then she walked through him, the passage of her body into and out of his own making his balls clench like he was about to come.
The door creaked as she opened things, and he twisted around as she went inside the storage—
“Whoa… what a piece of ass.”
And that was why he’d shut the door, he realized. He knew what the demon looked like, and didn’t want the new inductees to see her.
“You want some, bitch.” There was the sound of a pair of boots hitting the floor. “Mmm, girl. Get it—”
Lash’s body moved before he was aware of deciding to change where he was standing—and then he was past the demon and right in front of Mr. Mouthy.
He slapped the slayer so hard a spool of black blood went flying from the busted nose. “You don’t fucking look at her. You don’t fucking talk to her.”
“What the fuck—”
Lash picked the lesser up by the throat and spun around, walking him through the demon’s body. Then he threw the slayer down with the leaking undead lame-ass, grabbed Mouthy by the back of the hair, and shoved that face riiiiiiight up close to the security guard’s.
“You want to be him? I can make you be him for eternity—he’s not getting any better and he’s not dying. Ever. You want to ride that wave?”
As the bullet-ridden sad sack’s eyes bugged at the news flash about his own destiny, Lash dragged him forward, too, so that the two lessers were almost kissing.
But he was only concerned with the asshole who’d thought he had any chance with the brunette. “Look at him. You want this? No? Then you never fucking talk at her again.”
Mr. Mouthy raised his hands like he was in a stickup. “No problem, man. She yours. Whatever. Fuck—”
Lash released the pair so abruptly, their noses punched together, and Mouthy cursed and covered the bottom half of his face. The security guard merely moaned and fell back into his slump against the cold stone wall, like another slice had been added to his shit sandwich and what did it matter.
