Page 15 of The Demon in Him

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But I was a coward.

“Yes,” I whispered, unable to look Dante in the eye.

“Very well.”


I heard movement near me, and then everything went black.

When the cravings started, they built up in my stomach, almost indistinguishable from hunger for a few minutes at least. But then they grew from a simple craving, as though for a sweet after a nice meal, into desire and then into need. A need that pulses through the blood, reaching the heart and head and forcing its way outward. A desire that makes itself known, telling you in no uncertain terms that if the desire is not met, then we have no choice, and our demon forms will take over and take what we need.

Because in Hell, there’s no denying these desires. In Hell, sex and violence abound, and we simply take what we want because all the others want it too.

On Earth, violence is frowned upon, and human blood can send demons into a frenzy. A controlled fight with a human is something that can only be achieved with time and practice at keeping control. Demon blood doesn’t smell as sweet and doesn’t make us want to taste it. And if a demon kills a human, then we’re taken by the werewolves, the hellhounds, and never allowed to return to Earth.

But I was denying my cravings and desires, and I had been since I stepped foot on this plane. Determined not to give in, the hunger had grown until my muscles rippled underneath my clothes, threatening to tear apart and unleash the monster that lived inside.

It was through sheer desperation that I let go, just a little bit, just enough to get it back under control. But I was too rough with him, the man I picked up at the bar. I didn’t hurt him, thankfully, but I scared him. The need to dominate ran thick through my blood. He wanted lovemaking, but instead, I fucked him ruthlessly, fast, and hard until he was coming with me, the words ‘slow down’on the edge of his tongue as his cum spilled on the bedsheets.

I’d been on Earth for only a matter of months and was coming to accept that I couldn’t keep myself under control through willpower alone. I don’t think any demon could. That’s why they fought, fucked, ran amok, and did as they pleased. Mostly.

So I needed an outlet, and that was when I found the weres.

It was an accident. I certainly wasn’t looking for the very creatures who were designed to take me down if I stepped out of line. But theanimalistic therapyposter in the local café sparked my interest. What was the premise? You and several other people hang out in a field in the middle of the night and scream at the moon. Sounds ridiculous? I thought so too. But at that point, I was willing to try anything to keep my demon down and not have to fight my way free of the urges, and I was running out of options. Some cathartic screaming might do the trick.


So I had showed up to the first meeting and recognized the scent of werewolves immediately. Not everyone in the group, that would be too many for the area, but two of them definitely—Bane and Dante—and they recognized me at the same moment I did them.

Howling at the moon for therapy to get back in touch with yourwild rootsmade complete sense that the group would be hosted by werewolves. It would be the only time they could have company, and their wolfish behavior wouldn’t get them caught out, where they could feel at one with the wolf that resided inside them and continue to keep human company without having to stamp down their true nature.

I was familiar with that feeling.

But they didn’t want me there. The humans had dispersed after the meeting, patting each other on the back and feeling free. They’d start laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation once shame crept back into their minds the further they moved from the emptiness of the field. After everyone else had left, that’s when Dante and Bane came for me. I didn’t run since weres can outrun demons, and I found myself pinned in the grass, teeth near my face and jaws snapping at my neck as they changed into wolf form mid-takedown.

I should have fought for my life, but werewolves were stronger than demons, and the pathetic part of it was I no longer wanted to fight. For some inconceivable reason, the cathartic screaming had somewhat helped, and I was certain if the weres would give me the time, together we could figure out a solution that would allow me to control my urges and remain on Earth. As soon as I felt their presence, I had also felt a jump of hope. Not because I wanted them to put me out of my misery but because werewolves offered the control I desired. They could guide and keep me protected if needed.

But they had a job to do and had traded their souls as humans under the promise they would do it.

So when they started to tear me apart, I didn’t fight them off.

Demons healed fast, but not fast enough to keep our skin together when two werewolves were so hell-bent on tearing it apart. My chest was in shreds, and my heart one good bite away from being torn from my body when they stopped. One of the wolves shifted back into human form with the cracking of bones and whimpers from the pain before he looked at me, his shaggy hair falling in front of his face and haunted eyes.

“Why don’t you fight back, demon?” he demanded of me.

I had to cough up a good volume of blood before I could get the words out, gargling in my throat as my body fought to heal itself in the precious seconds before I would be attacked again. “I don’t want to be a demon.”

“Do you want to die?”

“No, but if I can’t control my urges without violence, I would rather be dead.”

The other were had shifted too, and the two men glanced at each other over my bloody body, sharing something significant between them. Both men radiated the aura of alpha males, perhaps not as arrogant as demons, but there was no way these two lived together. If they did, they’d tear each other apart over the smallest disagreement. Werewolves generally didn’t do well in the company of others of their kind for too long.

The second man spoke. Previously in his wolf form, he was large and covered in black fur, and the beard that covered most of his face was the same shiny black and covered anything that would resemble an expression while his dark eyes spoke worlds.

“If you make it through the night, demon…” he drawled, pushing himself to his feet, “… then we will talk next time we meet.”

They left, and through an act of submission and honesty about my desire to be rid of my demonic urges, they had spared my life.