Page 10 of Knight’s Retribution

“You did.” He laughed harder. “Sweetheart, I doubt he’s given you a thought since we brought you here. What do human’s say? Out of sight, out of mind?” His gaze moved over her. “You’re nothing special, female. Easily replaced. Do you think he would have left you vulnerable like he did if he actually gave a fuck about you?”

Kyler wanted to cover her ears, but he’d only force her to listen and she couldn’t bear to have his hands on her again.

“He didn’t tell you what he was, or what you were. He didn’t even try to protect you. That’s why you’re here. This is all his fault. You’re in Hell because of him, and he’s fucking human females like you never existed.”

“Please, stop,” she whispered.

“Are you actually surprised?”

“Stop.”

“You were just there, another desperate female offering him your cunt on a silver platter. You were easy.”

“Stop it,” she screamed.

Taren rushed her, shoved her into the wall, grabbed her jaw, forced her mouth shut, and got in her face. He was so close his hot breath washed over her face when he spoke. “He doesn’t love you, you stupid little bitch. And he never did.” Then he ground his erection against her and grinned. “And as soon as Diemos gets bored with you, we’re going to have some fun, you and I.”

Then he shoved away and strode out, slamming the door behind him.

Wrapping her arms around herself, Kyler doubled over and dry heaved.

* * *

Rocco stood on the fire escape and opened the window. Kyler’s scent immediately washed over him. She’d been gone months, but her scent, it never dimmed, or maybe it was his warped mind making him believe that was true. Either way was fine with him.

He didn’t come here often, it hurt too much, but tonight he needed to be closer to his female so badly his bones ached and his soul fucking screamed. He’d been paying the rent on her place, keeping everything here as it was the night they took her from him.

Like most demi-demons, no one had really come looking for her. There were people she worked with, but they weren’t her friends, not really. The demon part of her kind tended to scare humans away. Some instinct deep down that told them something wasn’t right, that sensed the darkness, the demon part of their DNA.

Shutting the window behind him, he moved on autopilot to her bedroom, where her sweet scent was the strongest. Kicking off his boots and shucking his leather jacket, he crawled onto the mattress, curled his arms around her pillow, burying his face in its softness, and breathed deep. His fingers found and wrapped around the T-shirt she wore to bed the nights he wasn’t with her. Under her pillow, that was where she always kept it, and he’d put it back in the same place before he left.

Now, though, he brought it to his face, taking in more of her scent, his heart clenching as agony sliced through him. With a pain-filled groan, he yanked back the duvet and pressed his face to the sheet-covered mattress.

The animal sound that came from him, that came from somewhere deep inside, was mixed with his demon. Because it wasn’t just her scent on the sheets, it was his as well—him and her. They’d made love here the night before she was taken, that morning as well. He’d held her in his arms before he left her, after he’d been inside his female and they’d laughed and teased each other, held each other.

She’d traced the tattoo-like markings on his arm, her beautiful smile bright and filled with joy. He’d almost told her then, fuck…he almost fucking told her. The words had been right there on the tip of his tongue.

But he’d kept them to himself.

Because until she transitioned, he couldn’t make her his mate in truth no matter how much he’d wanted to. The gossamer thin thread that would appear in his mind’s eye while he moved inside her, that he needed to take hold of to make her his in every way, would only show itself after she’d transitioned.

And he hadn’t wanted to take away that joy, her happiness, by telling her what she truly was, not when he didn’t need to. Her power had been there, though, just under the surface, but not ready to be unleashed yet, and he’d wanted to give her that time before her entire world changed forever.

If he’d told her, if he’d fucking told her—

A roar of pain tore from him as he fisted her T-shirt tighter, holding it to him like it was a part of her, as if holding it gave him back a piece of his female. But it didn’t. She was gone, and she was suffering.

All he’d had to do was open his fucking mouth and tell her the truth, and she would still be here. She’d be living at the compound with him; he would have made her his mate. They’d be happy. They’d be together.

She would be safe.

Suddenly, he couldn’t take it, not one more moment of the agony. It was as if a million blades were slicing through him repeatedly, a tight band wrapping around his lungs, squeezing, tighter…tighter.

His demon struggled, raging inside him, so desperate to break free, to take Rocco completely, to wreak havoc—to let him kill and maim and torture.

Rocco couldn’t do any of those things, and his mind was fraying with every moment that passed without her. He felt it, recognized it. And all he could do was hold on to the delicate threads of lucidity with the last of his strength. If he gave in to the rage, to the madness now, he would be of no use to Kyler, he’d let her down all over again. He had to hold on for just a little longer.

So he did what he always did when he felt himself slipping away—he breathed deep, focusing on inhaling and exhaling, over and over again. He emptied his mind and, holding that T-shirt to him for dear life, closed his eyes and let Kyler’s scent calm the demon while he clung to his sanity like a life raft.