Chapter 8

RYKER

"You're a fucking piece of shit!" Void whisper-yells through the phone, lightly enough that her neighbor can't hear her. Her neighbor being Lyra, the apartment she calls home while Lyra is out or asleep owned by yours truly. Void is a shapeshifter demon I hired years ago; the fluffy black asshole is actually a four-foot demon with a sharp tongue. She cares about Lyra, though, and can look out for her in times that I can't.

"She cried for over an hour today before she concluded that she needs to know more about the beast she saw, you moron."

"Watch your tone," I snarl down the phone, my teeth bared—not that she can see me, and even if she could, the demon isn't scared of me in the slightest.

"No, you oversized pocket puppy. You need to listen instead of going all alpha idiot on me for a moment. She isn't stupid, Ryker. She has been researching the shadow wolves for years now. The girl is close enough to making the connection, especially considering you left the place smelling like a fire had ripped through it. Dumb choice."

"What did you want me to do, Void? Let them rape and kill her? Is that what you think I should have done? Leave her passed out in the woods for anyone to find, to get hypothermia and freeze to death, if the wolves didn't find her first?"

My hand clenches the phone, the device straining under my grip. The reapers will be pissed when they figure out she saw me again. My warnings with them are running slim already, but I couldn't let her suffer. The girl has been through enough.

"No, but you certainly shouldn't have taken her back to the cabin and revealed yourself to her. You know how much she has missed you, Ryker. You fucking know, and now she has to live knowing you've been alive all this time but never came for her."

I stay silent on the line, my anger sitting right below the surface. There are very few people in the world I would allow to speak to me the way Void does, but it's one of the things I respect about her. Usually. Today, though, I want to rip through the phone and toss her off the balcony, to be honest.

"You have said your piece. Now go do your fucking job," I grit back after a lengthy pause, prompting a huff from her.

"She has been looking into things and found out about the shop—you know the one, that demon who poses as some cooky witch but sells shit from down below. You bet your ass she's going to scent you on her after the stunt you pulled. I told you it was a fucking terrible idea, rubbing all her clothes on your skin, but what do I know?"

Fuck.

"I will follow her there and keep an eye at a distance. Keep me updated."

She goes to speak, needing to always have the last word, but I hang up, tossing the phone on the couch. It bounces before crashing to the ground, vibrating as soon as it hits the floorboards. A text message flashes on the screen from Void. Of course.

If you continue to torture this girl, luring her into your web as well as kicking her to the curb, I will be forced to tell your reaper. He will skin you alive and hang you at the gates for the hounds to see your fucking insides. BTW, she's going to the store in the morning.

My teeth grind as I drop to the sofa, my head falling back. Lyra's scent still lingers in the cabin, sweet with a hint of vanilla from her shampoo. I focus on it, zoning in on the memories of her presence, how she pulls me in without trying, my soul drawn to hers on a level I will never understand.

I feel my cock thickening at the image of her in the nightmare, her skin marked with the blood of men. It pushes against the seam of my boxers, craving a small reprieve. Probably not the time to be doing this when I have so much shit to do, but any form of relief sounds mighty fine right now.

Rolling my tongue around my mouth, I spit onto my hand, gripping the pulsing knot at the base of my cock. I close my eyes, thinking back to the moment I entered her, the sweet taste of her pussy on my tongue as I slid inside her wet heat. How it tightened around me, my hand doing the same, copying something it can never replicate.

My hips buck up, chasing the friction, my balls already heavy at the mere thought of her body. Wrapped in fucking sin. Her curves felt like heaven in my grip as she screamed out my name. A growl tears from my chest at the image playing like a reel, possessive and raw.

Precum drips down my fingers, my cock aching for her. The knot twitches beneath my grip, swelling painfully with each swipe of my hand. It has been a long time; I'm not one to usually give in to my urges. With one last glide from tip to base, my release floods over my hands as I come with a grunt. The muscles along my stomach tense as cum coats my black t-shirt, marking me when it should have been her. I don't think I have ever come that quickly in my life.

Tearing the soaked top from my body, I walk into the bathroom and am yet again assaulted with everything her. Long strands of her hair cling to the glass in the shower, the auburn standing out amidst the otherwise monotone room. I step into the steaming hot shower, letting the temperature sear my skin, distracting me from her just enough to take the edge off. She consumes my every waking moment, and it's becoming dangerous for both of us. I'm skating on thin ice, my luxury of living on Earth at risk if I don't play my cards right and let her live her life.

I scrub at my skin, using the same body wash she does, engraining the scent of her into my pores. The textured creases of the loofah irritate the top layers, leaving me red-raw, the soap stinging the light grazes forming in more sensitive areas.

Drying myself off, I drop back onto the sofa in my towel, opening my laptop. Sweet little Lyra has no idea her computer is bugged, her entire search history feeding to my laptop. I can see everything at the push of a button, from the porn she watches to the groceries she orders and everything in between. My girl likes to watch things on the rougher side, her preference more primal than I would have expected. Suits me just fine; I do love a good chase.

Sure enough, she has been delving into the black wolf searches again, only this time, she's a little closer than usual, finding an old thread about types of demons. Scrolling down, I find a podcast she downloaded titled Hellhound Folklore: A tale from the ages.

Lastly, she searches for the owner of the podcast: Odessa, the bitch who owns a store in the middle of nowhere, selling curiosities and oddities. We've met once or twice, my access to endless skeletal remains in the woods a blessing for her, apparently. She's the spawn of one of Hell's princes, allowed to roam the plane as she sees fit due to her lineage. Usually, it's no concern of mine. She doesn't kill or maim, keeps to her own with her little store—a flirty demon with no boundaries at all, very true to her kind. She's easy to shut down most of the time, taking offence at the smallest of insults.

Her scent hits me before I see her, filtering through each of my senses one by one. She has her auburn hair down today, the natural waves kinking down her back and hitting the top of her ass. What I wouldn't give to run my fingers through it, pulling at the base. Not the fucking time, Ryker.

My phone vibrates in my pocket with a message from Void, again.

Don't you dare let her see you, Ryker. I mean it.

Rolling my eyes, I type out a quick response, not wanting to take my eyes off her for long. She turns around, searching her surroundings, much more alert than she usually is. It's certainly not the first time I've watched my little sister go about her day, lurking in the shadows. Watching at bars as men stare at her, with very few approaching. She's closed off, her attention usually on the bar person to bring her another wine, not on the people around her.

Studying that fake smile she wears at work, giving the absolute minimum to those around her. Her mouth may tip into a grin, but her eyes remain filled with sadness.

Not planning on it, Fluffy. Calm down. Will keep you posted. Thanks for the heads up.

Lyra is wearing black, flared leggings that cling to her thighs decadently, her ass covered by a hoodie, the one she took from the cabin after her last one was drenched in blood the night before. I lit that shit on fire the first moment I got, needing to rid the cabin of the stench. How in the world vamps are okay with decaying blood is beyond me; the smell alone gives me shivers.

The doorbell chimes as she walks into the store, her emotions rather hard to pinpoint. I try to siphon what I can, flecks of fear and anxiety with a dash of sadness, but it's nowhere near what it usually is. She's more driven today, consumed by the chase—only the thing she's chasing is something she should know nothing about: me.

She approaches Odessa, speaking clearly and sure as she asks about the podcast. I can feel the bitterness of the demon's emotions already, her excitement piquing as soon as Lyra opens her mouth, likely before. The girl smells of me, and there's no doubt the demon knows exactly whose scent it is.

Walking closer, I look through the window, catching a glimpse between all the shit crammed into a small space. Skulls and trinkets adorn the walls, with taxidermy animals and crystals filling every inch of table space. Nothing has changed at all since I was here last.

Odessa's red eyes dart to mine, a sly grin spreading across her face. I swear to Lucifer himself, if she does anything to put the girl in harm's way, she will meet the same fate as the last ones to fuck with her, important father or not. To others she would be conventionally attractive, demons usually are. Their bodies built for sin, a more enhanced version of their former selves should they have had one. Beings like this bitch though, the gene pool down there has done her favors, but she doesn't even come close to Lyra.

She hushes her tone, leaning in to whisper into Lyra's ear, handing her an old book. Paper is crammed into the sides, old and weathered—definitely not something that should be in the hands of a human. I can't quite make out the words, but something along the lines of answers falls from her mouth.

Lyra thanks her before walking around the store, running her delicate fingers along some of the most intimidating pieces of Odessa's collection. The scent of her blood filters through the air, a fang catching on her skin. She looks with curiosity, not even flinching at the sting, simply putting the bleeding fingertip into her mouth for a moment. Collecting a few bits and pieces, she goes to pay for her items, but Odessa shushes her, telling her that it's not every day someone comes in here with wonder like hers, bidding her farewell.

I spin around the corner, my back flat against the side of the store as the bell chimes again. Lyra takes a deep breath, inhaling through her nose, breathing the word interesting on the exhale. She slowly makes her way down toward the cafe on the corner of the block, staring at the back of the book.

Quickly slipping in through the door, I flip the open sign to closed, snibbing the lock on the door. Odessa looks at me with a wide grin, her demonic side starting to slip, turning her eyes a deeper shade of red. Her ice-white hair hangs down each side of her face, stopping at her ribs, which are encased in a tightly strung corset, torn bits of black fabric making up her skirt.

"I knew it was you out there, Ryker," she purrs, batting her lashes. I stay silent, my jaw tense as I approach her. My demon side threatens to tear from my skin, the itchy feeling spreading quickly the closer I get. She has been flirty in the past, regardless of it never being reciprocated. Not many demons tolerate her, so me being in her presence is enough to have the lust pouring from her. Bile rises at the emotion forcing its way in, so thick, you can almost see it.

"What the fuck did you give her?" I snarl from the opposite side of her counter, my hands slamming on the cluttered surface. A million eyes stare at me from around the store, cold and dead, attached to a variety of animals whose souls no longer walk this Earth. She chuckles, kicking out her hip, mirroring my stance with her hands falling close to mine.

"That sweet little thing came in asking about your kind. Who would've thought?" She grins, her sharp canines on display. The small horns she dons start peeking out from her hair, curling toward the back wall. She has little control over her shift, it seems; it's fucked for something so powerful to be so weak at the same time. "She listened to my little podcast, the one where I delve into the world enough for humans to get interested but not enough to get me banished."

My hands whip up to her throat, lifting her off the ground with ease. She doesn't struggle in my hold, grinning down at me like I've just made her day. The dumb bitch can feel my emotions; she knows I'm not here to fuck around.

"Not what I fucking asked, now is it, Odessa?"

"Just. A. Fucking. Demonology. Book," she chokes out, my grip tightening with each word falling from her lips. Her crimson eyes roll back with each labored breath, getting more difficult with each twitch of my fingers. Tears begin to roll down her cheeks, creating blackened tracks, her heavy makeup standing no chance against the steady stream running down my fingers. No one would miss her, right? One more move is all it would take…

"My father will end you," she spits, her body thrashing, the panic finally setting in. Now this tastes much better, less acidic. I drop her into a pile on the ground, her body heaving. Walking around the counter, I kneel beside her, my hand gripping her cheeks and forcing her gaze to mine.

"If she comes in here again, you say you're closed. Do you fucking understand?" I snarl, my face inches from hers. She nods, scowling back at me, her hand brushing along her reddened throat. She'll be fine; demons heal with ease. "She's mine."