Page 22 of Demon Rider

Otto chants, while I swoop down, the demon shrieks, its true form peeling away from the host like smoke ripped from fire.

The human collapses, unconscious but alive.

The demon’s soul writhes in the air, a twisted shape of red orbs and flame. “You can’t hold me!” it screams.

Otto raises his hand, chanting under his breath. His power locks around the demon like invisible chains, tightening, dragging it down.

I lean in, voice rough, twisted. “Back to Hell.”

The ground cracks open, enough for the pit to reach up and take what belongs to it. Fire and smoke, mixed with the promise of pain reeks the air, while the demon is yanked downward, screaming curses.

I return to my human form, looking at a smirking Otto leaning against the wall.

Otto exhales. “You owe me a drink.”

“You are buying. I did the heavy lifting.”

He snorts. “Keep telling yourself that.”

Sirens wail in the distance, growing louder as humans swarm toward the noise instead of away from it. You’d think instinct would tell them to run from danger, but fuck no.

Curiosity wins every damn time. They show up with their phones out, ready to record whatever chaos is happening, life and safety tossed aside like they don’t matter, as long as they have those clicks and likes.

We slip into the shadows, two Reapers disappearing who need pussy and a drink.

Kristina had better be ready for me.

CHAPTER TEN

Kristina

I stir the sauce in the pot, ready to add the pasta, and then the meat that is browning in a separate pan.

My cooking skills are decent thanks to my foster mom, she always made sure that her kids knew how to cook for when they were ready to go out into the world. When I phoned them after Tyson left on a job, or an ‘Order’ as he called it, they were worried which is no surprise but I managed to convince them that I am safe and okay now.

Work was easier, they told me to take a few days after my attack, and come back when I am ready.

Tyson is helping me heal, in more ways than one.

I’m not stupid. Something supernatural is happening around here.

And do not get me started on Tyson… he’s not just a biker with a bad attitude and a dangerous smile. There’s something in him that hums under the surface, something that makes the air shift when he’s angry or horny.

I’ve seen the way his eyes shift. Felt this pull to him, like we are connected internally. My Spidey senses are going off like mad the longer I am around him, and the club.

I’m still trying to make sense of it when the kitchen door swings open.

Lisa struts in like she owns the place, all tight clothes, overly done make-up, and that smug look I want to smack off her face. she knows she is on thin ice, but by the looks of her face, she thinks he can pull more mean girl shit and get away with it.

“Well, look at you,” she says. “Where you belong, serving us.”

“I’m waiting on Tyson.” I inform her.

“Sweetheart, Tyson doesn’t do waiting. And he sure as hell doesn’t do… whatever you think you are.” She scoffs.

My jaw tightens, my fingers grip the handle of the wooden spoon tighter. I wonder what she would look like with her face melting off from the hot sauce I am stirring.

“You don’t know anything about me.”