Page 3 of Demon Demands

Sloane

Monday Early Afternoon

The ground quaked under my rage. With my bare feet on the grass, I could physically hear the green blades singing a sad tune as they wilted under the heat emanating from my body.

The blood in my veins ran ice cold as I felt the telltale signs of bloodlust filtering through me. Magic crackled at my fingertips as my hands twitched in my anger and disbelief. My wolf clawed against my chest, ready to sniff out and track my prey.

The scream that had been ripped from my parched, raw throat was enough to have me tasting my own blood. The vengeful bitch that was my demon rioted just under the surface of my skin, threatening to break free with every breath I heaved past my dry, cracked lips.

The vault I kept her in was silently shaking, crumbling on its foundation as she gnashed at the metaphorical lock.

I could feel my horns piercing the flesh of my scalp, my silver hair tangling around them. My lower back ached as I fought the shift. The skin on my shoulder blades split and healed, over and over, forcing me to concentrate on holding my wings in.

And I knew, if I looked in a mirror, my eyes would be completely demonic. Two bottomless pools of pitch black, so dark and otherworldly that they appeared to suck in all the light around them. Not the red of a controlled partial shift where I was showing off. But closer to that all consuming rage that didn’t fully belong to me.

My best fucking friend was gone.

My brother.

My treasure.

Jack… was gone.

Snatched right out from under my nose and my protection.

But not for long.

Focus, bitch.

I took a shuddering breath, trying to calm myself. It wasn’t the time to lose my grip on her. I didn’t know if my mates knew how different my demon was from me. Not just the way I looked when I morphed, but the way I’d act. The way we’d act. I hadn’t needed to explain that part of myself to them yet. York knew, though he’d never witnessed it firsthand.

We were two sides of the same coin, sure, but where I was dark… my demon was darker. Where I could be mean, she was downright cruel. Where I was protective of the people I loved, she was possessive and territorial.

If all the killing I’d done was justified… She wanted to bathe in the blood of her enemies. To see her ivory skin dripping in crimson and pick innards from under her talons as she chewed on bones.

Hannibal Steed had just taken one of my — our — loved ones. My family. Her treasure. When she found someone that she cared for, she was worse than a dragon.

My demon didn’t horde gold, jewels, and trinkets. She hoarded the living, breathing things that were dear to our heart. Ours.

And Hannibal had just royally fucked up, signing his soul over to the Third Devil when he took our hellsteed from us. He had no idea of the monster that would soon be knocking on his door.

We wouldn’t need an army behind us to face him, but he would need one to face her wrath. The fury inside of our shared soul would only grow the longer we were away from Jack.

No, Jack wasn’t my mate, but we had a connection that ran just as deep. We always had, and it had only flourished over the years that we’d been raised together. It would never diminish, even with distance.

I knew he would be able to feel the murderous intent rolling through my mind, no matter what realm he was in. I was giving myself forty-eight hours to get him back. No more, but I’d certainly take less.

I needed to get my shit together, call Papi or Lucy, and ask them to open up a portal for us. I couldn’t make those types of portals yet. Even if I could, I couldn’t think straight enough to get it right.

The last thing I wanted was to step through a new doorway to the Underworld and have my mates or Grim ripped to hell and back. No pun intended.

I called a ball of hellfire into the palm of my left hand, pushing my intent into it so it would show me Papi. As the current Devil ruling, he needed to know what had just transpired.

The magic Hannibal had used was illegal, but beyond that, Jack was Papi’s son. Nothing and no one would make my parents think any differently.

“Have you ever seen her so angry?” Briggs whispered to York and Grim as I waited for Papi to spot me in the flames of the lantern on his desk.

York shook his head. “Not this angry, no.”