Chapter 10

RYKER

Lyra's boss, Max, is a man who owes some favors. Not one that needs to be taken out, his treatment of her on the friendly side for my liking but otherwise harmless. He has made some deals to get where he is in life, owning one of the finest establishments in the state. The man drips money, and although some of it is from hard work, there is a good portion attributed to a crossroads demon who gave in to his wishes.

It made the conversation easier after my little sister applied for a job; one conversation was all it took for him to take her on. She's reasonably safe here, with two large bouncers out front at all times and a boss who has the fear of fucking Lucifer in him. I feel much more comfortable if I'm here too, but at least there's some form of protection in my absence.

My hood is drawn low, with Max being the only one in the bar allowed to approach the table, keeping my conversation to a minimum. It's an agreement we made before she even started. He never questioned my reasoning for being here most shifts, and he didn't seem to mind when I racked up large bills and tipped well. Anything to be able to watch her exist, to see the way she interacts with people.

She often looks over at me, almost as though she can see through me. It's like she knows who's here, but she never approaches. I can sense her heart rate pick up when he mentions me being here, his regular. Those stunning doe eyes find me before quickly looking away. It's the call of the undeniable tether, pulling the two of us closer and closer, each resisting but for different reasons.

If only she knew it was me all this time, watching over her so closely, she could likely sense me if she honed in on those feelings hard enough. She skates through her shift with minimal interaction, as usual, until a group comes in. The men reek of overconfidence, forcing me to bite my cheek to stop the snarl threatening to rip through.

They stare directly at her ass as she leads them to their table, lust pouring off them so intense, it almost chokes me. Where her lust is sweet, pure, theirs is not. Filled with ill intentions and cockiness that leaves a bitter tang on my tongue. Bad idea, boys, bad fucking idea. One of them in particular won't take his eyes off her, the words falling from his mouth settling his fate.

"Baby, you can come back as much as you like. You look just as good walking away as you do standing so close."

Well, well, well, if it isn't a soul dropping right into my clutches, a gift to my reaper to soften the blow of what I've done, going against his wishes and the rules of my kind. Neither of us is high ranking enough to make a decision like the one I made, revealing both of my forms to her so willingly. Maybe, just maybe, this will sweeten things.

The feeling of a life force being drained by my hands is one I welcome, especially when it comes to her. The last choked breath before their heart stops is like music to my ears, a deadly melody played only for me. It helps to keep my demon side happy and satiated, those urges dealt with in a way that usually doesn't get me in trouble with those down below. Keeping myself in line around her, my little addiction, is torture, one I am more than happy to endure until the end of days if I need to. But hunting men who happen to look in her direction wrong? It certainly helps.

Security removes the group from the establishment, with curses hurled at Lyra on their way out—vile words about her figure, how he would like to find her in a dark alley and take what he needs. According to the main culprit, she tempted them, luring them into a false sense of security and welcoming their advances. Of course, I know that isn't the case. She barely looked up at the men when speaking to them. Anything to throw the blame on anyone but themselves.

Quietly making my way out, I hop into my Jeep and wait for an Uber to come and pick him up. His friends have left him alone, choosing to find somewhere else to drink themselves into oblivion without the embarrassment to the human race they call a friend. Couldn't have planned this better if I tried.

A small grin spreads across my lips as I watch him stumble into the back of a car, following it out to the road. Within ten minutes, we're coming to a stop out the front of a small, run-down house. It's unassuming, the street incredibly quiet. No other cars have passed me since we left the establishment. Noting the address, I wait until his fumbling with the lock ceases and he's inside. My little gift wrapped in a bow, waiting for later tonight.

I could do it now, take his life and head back to my home away from home with his soul in my clutches. It would, however, mean that I don't get to have my fill of her tonight, and fuck knows when I'll get that chance again once I step foot in Hell.

Letting myself into the apartment beside hers, I collect a beer from the fridge and pop the lid, tossing it with precision into the open bin. No doubt Void will hear me in here and make her way over in a moment. I sit back on one of the bar stools, waiting. Lyra's soft snores filter through the walls; I must have been gone longer than I thought.

Sure enough, the obsidian thing slinks out of the discreet little hole in the wall, kicking the timber shut behind her before running into one of the bedrooms in a huff. Less than a minute later, she emerges from the room dressed in a black dressing gown, her hair shooting in all different directions.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" she seethes, approaching me with the confidence of a grown-ass man, her clawed finger pointing at my chest. I stand, towering over all four feet of her, tossing my now-empty bottle into the trash.

"Did you forget I own this apartment, Void?"

"Don't ask stupid questions and get to the fucking point," she snaps back, brimming with rage. Must have woken her slumber; what a life, watching my girl to make sure she is safe and sleeping. Hard life being Void.

Leaning up against the kitchen counter, I cross my arms over my chest, preparing for what I am about to say. I knew she and Lyra would be a good match when I hired her all those years ago. She's fiercely protective of my little sister, willing to put her life on the line should it ever be required. She has watched her go through a lot of hardships in a space where I couldn't.

Many a night I spent here listening in on the sobs, the way Lyra spoke to Void in her darkest moments, her tears dropping onto the black fur. She's the reason I've been able to be there when the darkness overcomes Lyra, those moments where the pain was too much for her to bear. It has been a few years since the last time she tried to take her life, but it was rough going for a while there.

"I need to go home. There's a soul for me to collect, and then I've been ordered to go back down. He knows she has seen me, likely those two pieces of shit I slaughtered at the cemetery the other night."

Her posture deflates instantly as she drops down to the couch, the fight seemingly disappearing into thin air. Her claws rake through her hair, leaving lines in their path. She looks like the doll out of The Rugrats but the grunge version, not that I would let that fall from my mouth.

"Fuck."

"Yeah. Fuck. So I am not going to be here for a while, I don't know how long he will keep me there, but knowing his grumpy ass, it will be a while. So you are going to need to step up and keep her safe, Void. I will ensure Axel is at the cabin for backup if needed."

"She's going to hurt, Ryker. She can feel you, your presence. She knows she's being watched."

I had picked up on it at the store, her awareness more heightened than usual. Most of the time when I follow her, she is off in her own little world, plastering on her fake smile at the bar she works at or diverting her eyes from every passerby. She works hard at blending in, but I see her. I watch her, getting to know the small parts of her that change as the years tick by.

Her routines that she doesn't change, the way her dimple has deepened with age on her left cheek, the way her hair smells with the new shampoo she bought, strong and addictive when laced with the scent of her.

"Stay put while I go say goodbye."

Flipping her middle finger up at me, she goes back into her room, shutting the door a little quieter this time. Excitement burns through my veins as I make my way to Lyra's door, unlocking it with my key. Hellhounds thankfully have the ability to keep people in a more…unconscious state, so she doesn't have a chance to stir awake at the noise. It took me a little while to hone the skill, perfect the art. She almost caught me a few times, but now, it's as natural as a reflex.

She keeps the apartment spotless, not a thing out of place. Handy for someone who tries to make as little noise as possible, with less chance of accidentally stepping on something or tripping. See, she distracts me, her scent luring me in, begging me to taste her. Every need that flows through her body claws at my more primal side, ripping away at each layer of resolve I have built over the years.

Which is what makes being here at night so dangerous for both of us. Yet, here I am, feeding both our needs, teetering on the edge of control while she sleeps there without a care in the world. She would feel something, a pull, just like I did when I was still a human, before my father tore me from the Earth and threw me to the wolves below.

Moving her auburn hair from her neck, I breathe in the scent. Soft vanilla, sweet as Hell. There's a necklace I found online in my hand, one with a small square of fiber on the inside. After hearing her breathy little moans back at the cabin when she used my body wash, I decided to buy her one, dousing it in my scent. She is used to me being around by now; she doesn't quite understand it, but the smokey scent will naturally bring her comfort. It's familiar. It's mine.

I clasp it around her delicate throat, her pulse thrumming beneath the skin. My kind are not biters, there's fanged pricks walking amongst humans that do enough of that for all of us. An overwhelming urge runs through me to mark her, like fire right under the surface of my skin willing me closer until my nose is just below her ear. My tongue flattens against the skin of her throat, the taste of her flooding my senses.

Every breath becomes labored, sucking air into my chest getting more difficult the harder I fight. My gums pulse as the two top canines descend without my drive or permission. That small amount of control I have is diminishing by the second as I rake my teeth across her skin, reveling in the goosebumps that follow. Her body reacts to mine exactly how I want, made for me in every single way, as I was for her.

As I sink my teeth into her flesh, a light moan falls from her parted lips, her body arching closer to me. It's not deep enough to draw blood but enough to leave a pretty mark across the front of her throat. Is it playing a dangerous game, considering how close she is to figuring me out? Potentially. But I am a demon, after all, and there's only so much temptation I can take before snapping.

Licking across the mark, I have never been more thankful for the power given to my kind. It's something that most hellhounds couldn't care less about, the ability to keep humans from waking, seen as a useless talent when other demons get more than we do. Moments like this, however, prove otherwise.

Before I give in to temptation completely and fuck her, I settle my lips on hers, kissing her one last time for tonight. Our first time outside of her nightmare, she needs to be awake, those stunning, lust-filled eyes focused on me. I need to hear her cries and pleas when I take her, to feel her body writhe under mine. She isn't ready to see me again just yet, not when I have to leave her again.