Total pages in book: 16
Estimated words: 14761 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 74(@200wpm)___ 59(@250wpm)___ 49(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 14761 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 74(@200wpm)___ 59(@250wpm)___ 49(@300wpm)
Only that they disappear, never to be seen again.
Chapter 2
It only takes two days for the hunger to start again. Humans are assigned based on a number of bureaucratical policies—demons love bureaucracy—and the condensed version of it is that seniority is everything and I have none. So I get one human and only one. Initially that knowledge comforted me; I wouldn’t have to go into a bunch of new houses and find out exactly what scares a bunch of new humans.
That was before him.
I shift from hoof to hoof in front of the portal. Ralph’s got his own hungers to see to, but he said he’d be here when I’m done. Another thing that seemed great when I first heard it, only for me to realize it’s backfired. I have no one to shove me through the portal, and I can’t seem to make myself take that first step.
Portals are summoned for their respective demons in little alcoves to provide privacy. I think that’s why? It’s something I’ve been grateful for time and time again, because it’s never a smooth process to talk myself up to taking this first step, even if Ralph is there to lead the way.
My stomach grumbles, the sound bringing with it a memory of my human’s . . . lust. I want to taste it again. I want to devour it in great, greedy gulps. The problem is that I’m supposed to scare him, and even if I wanted to turn him on, I don’t know how I did it in the first place. Surely I can’t re-create the experience? I definitely shouldn’t want to re-create the experience.
“Come on, Gemma,” I mutter to myself and surge forward before I can think too hard about moving. The portal spins me to pieces and shoves me unceremoniously back together, dropping me into a now-familiar dark room.
The window is closed tonight, the air still. Just like before, the human is lying on his back, his arms outstretched in a sure sign of safety. That awful guilt pricks me again, but I make myself move forward to take him in more fully. His blankets are pooled at his waist and tangled around his long legs. One bare foot is exposed, and I stare at his toes for a long moment. I’ve tried to form my own a few times in the past, but toes are so weird, and they always turn out wrong and make it hard to walk. His toes are nice, though—square and creating a neat little stairstep from big to smallest.
He shifts in his sleep and I freeze. I’m not ready. I don’t have a proper plan, despite thinking about this endlessly for the last forty-eight hours, prodding the memory and wondering where I went so wrong.
“The net, Gemma.” I don’t mean to speak aloud, and the soft sound of my voice jars him awake. He starts to sit up, but I’m faster, launching my magic at him and freezing him . . . half sitting up. “Fuck.” I drop my head and curse, not even bothering to keep it internal this time.
He makes a noise that is most certainly not a moan of fear. Even as I tell myself to turn around and leave, I lift my head. He’s staring right at me, his eyes shifting as much as the magic allows. There’s heat in their green depths, the kind of heat that signifies exactly what happened last time. He’s not scared of me. He’s turned on.
“What is wrong with you?” Without thinking, I wave my hand and shift the magical net around to free his face.
He works his jaw and swallows visibly. “Um. Hi.”
“I asked you a question.” I dig frustrated hands into my long mane of purple hair. “You’re supposed to be terrified. A monster is in your room, holding you frozen, and threatening to suffocate you. Normal people would be terrified.”
“Yeah, probably.” He smiles a little, though he’s gone pale enough that his freckles stand out in stark contrast. “I’m Caleb.”
“Gemma.” I realize what I’ve done and shake my head sharply. “No. We’re not doing this . . . whatever this is. Go back to bed. I’ll scare you next time.”
I start to turn away, but his soft voice stops me short. “Probably not.”
“What do you mean probably not?”
He’s still watching me as if he wants to memorize every detail, his gaze tracing my body from the tips of my horns down to my cloven hooves. It’s strange to be stared at so intensely. I’m an embarrassment of a demon. I’ve been told as much my entire life.
We’re raised collectively from creation to adulthood, and for as long as I can remember, I’ve been unable to fit in with my peers. The things that come easily to them feel unnatural to me; it takes effort, and even when I try my very hardest, I never quite manage it. If I’m silent and still, they sometimes tolerate me, but it’s difficult to be either. As a result, I make the other demons uncomfortable and they avoid me. They look right through me.