Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

I 'm ignoring him. I will ignore him. I'm ignoring him ?—

I reel back as the demon appears on my workbench, forcing himself between the carved wooden edge and my body. Sitting back heavily, I glare at him. It's hard, it really is. I narrow my eyes and try to look annoyed, but as they trace over his grinning face, I have to acknowledge that he is pretty.

He has curved black horns, fangs that hang over plump, gold-dusted lips, and a wicked tail, which is currently sweeping across my ingredients, but under those differences, he's fucking beautiful, and his attributes only add to the otherness that is the demon. He looks obscenely wicked.

His hair is a mixture of blacks and browns, hanging to his shoulders. I swear I sometimes see hints of red within his locks, but maybe that's a trick of the light. It's thick and slightly wavy at the ends, and he usually wears it pushed back. The top is tied in a braid that reaches his shoulders. Wisps escape, curling in front of his pointed ears adorned with bones. His eyebrows are the same colour as darkness, slanting over his pitch-black eyes. There are no irises or sclera. They are just black, slightly upturned, and pointed. I swear they are lined with gold since they seem to shine with it. His nose is thick and regal, and his cheekbones are high and would look feminine if it wasn't for his rugged jawline which sports a black, carefully maintained beard. Hell, I once caught him conditioning it with my expensive herbal shampoo made from pixie blood.

Despite the weather, he's wearing his usual fur coat. It drapes down to his thick thighs, the worn leather scarred. The white-tipped fur surrounds his neck and falls open, exposing his massive, bare chest. Muscle is stacked upon muscle there, creating the image of perfection in the form of a wicked demon.

His leather trousers cling to his thick thighs, which are as wide as tree trunks, and I once asked if he had to cut a hole for his tail to fit through. His hands are strong as he grabs the wooden carving I was playing with, and he throws it around without looking as his nipple bar catches the light. I swear gold dusts his muscles too, catching my eyes.

I remind myself he's evil.

He's a psychopath, a walking red flag, but red is my favourite colour, and I'm noticing just how attractive the demon who never leaves me alone truly is.

Evil, I hiss in my head.

Evilly hot, a wicked voice whispers back.

"Stop," I mutter, knowing it's him. Stupid fucking demon.

"Stop what, little witch?" he murmurs, tilting his head in a human fashion, but there's a wicked smirk dancing over his lips that tells me he knows exactly what he's doing. He realised I liked his muscles and decided shirts were no longer necessary.

Asshole.

"Want to see my new piercing?" he teases as he leans forward, the wooden sculpture floating mid-air as if he hasn't realised he froze it there. I snatch it away before his evil power infects it and carefully lay it down. He doesn't look away from me the whole time.

His black eyes observe the world around me as my house seems to darken despite the fire burning and the candles shining brightly.

"New piercing?" I ask curiously, which is exactly why he mentioned it. One day, he turned up with a nipple bar, and I figured he'd got bored. He doesn't go to a piercer, that's for sure.

"I saw something I thought you might like." He slides from the table, and before I can protest, he shoves his trousers down.

I jerk my gaze away, but curiosity gets the better of me, and my eyes go back to him despite my conviction.

I mean, I'm only so strong.

His hairy thighs lead up to his cock, and I cannot look away. He's huge, and the tip of his cock appears to be dusted in the same gold as his body. He's so thick I wouldn't even be able to fit both hands around him. The veins bulge along its hard length, but that's not what I stare at, nor the spikes that seem to run underneath.

It's the eight black piercings running down the length of his cock that have my attention. I know he didn't have them before.

My mouth goes dry as his fist strokes his length, exposing the piercings for me.

"You like them, little witch? I got them for you." He smiles. "I noticed you liked that clit piercing the girl had, and I found out there is a male version. It makes pleasure so much sweeter . . . and pain. You want to taste them for me and find out? I haven't had the chance to try them yet."

"Did it hurt?" My hand drifts up, and before I can stop myself, I trace the piercings. He groans, and I snatch my hand away as he chuckles darkly.

"In the best way," he replies without an ounce of shame. "But feel free to lick it better."

"I'm working. Go away," I mutter, even as I feel my cheeks heat. I curl my hand into a fist to stop myself from touching him. I shouldn't want to as much as I do, but it's like he draws me to him. He doesn't seem disappointed, even as he tugs his trousers up and disappears, suddenly appearing on a chair at my side—one that was not there since I don't want to invite him to stay any longer than he already does. It's bad enough that I wake up and find him hovering in the air above me, watching me sleep .

Creep.

"So what are we working on today?" he asks happily.

I swallow, not looking at him in case he sees the dirty thoughts in my head. Maybe he's right. Maybe it's been too long since the desire inside me was let out.

"Little witch, are you wondering how I would feel inside your sweet pussy?" he whispers in my ear as his tail wraps around my front and slides across my throat. "How about you bend over and find out?"

I snap my hand out, and he leans back, chuckling. Muttering to myself, I move closer to the workbench. I have orders waiting to be fulfilled. Most are from outside the coven, since it's how us witches make money. It's not the kind of money humans use, but the kind us creatures use in this world. Sometimes I will set up a stall at the local market for supes, and I'm due there tomorrow, where my orders will be picked up. One is for a pixie who wants a love spell, despite my warnings, and another is to heal a fae's illness. There's even a spell bag to deflect evil for a siren. I have finished most of them, but not all, and the demon isn't helping.

"If you're distracted, I can help fill orders. I'm bored," he whines, reaching for my spells, but I swat his hand away.

"We both know what happens when you try. They end up dead or cursed. Your magic has a way of morphing the intention." I sigh. I've had to give money back to a customer or apologize to a loved one after they died more than once.

"I just want to help."

I glance over to see him pouting.

A bored demon is a dangerous thing.

"There's a new present for you in the trunk." I nod at the trunk at the end of my bed, and he perks up. He and his chair vanish, and then he appears surrounded by smoke before tearing the trunk open in excitement.

He pulls out the wrapped parcel and appears cross-legged on my bed as he tears into it like a kid, not a seven-foot demon with smoking horns.

Paper goes flying into the air, and I sigh at the mess. He clicks without looking, and it burns to a crisp. Fucking demons. Next, he tugs the box out, his eyes wide. "Is this the new version?" he asks happily.

I nod, and he appears before me, wrapping his entire frame around me before materialising before the TV I bought a while ago. I tell myself it was for me, not him. Sitting cross-legged on the rug, he plugs in the new game and loads it.

I watch as he coos, creating a class and beginning the shooter game. When he puts his headphones on, I cover my eyes. He has been banned for cursing people out more than once. They don't realise it's an actual curse, thank the gods.

"Screw you, kid. I will eat your mum alive."

"Demon," I warn.

He grins at me over his shoulder. "Oops." He turns forward, stabbing the button as he shoots.

I turn my head to hide my smile.

Dangerous demon indeed.

The market is bustling today. It's busier than I've seen it for a while. It can take days to get here, but I don't travel as most would. I simply open a portal and appear with my goods. It takes me an hour or so to set up. The black tent hangs above me with some floating lights, my wooden sign is out front, and my wares are spread across the table.

Other stallholders line the way on every level of the underground market. It's called Conventus Market, which quite literally means meeting point—a meeting of all supernatural creatures.

If you dream it, you can buy it here.

There is everything, including curses, monster parts, the brothel, and eateries catering to darker elements. Nothing is taboo here, so everything goes. The towering market goes all the way to the sky and changes where it appears all the time, yet it's always the same, made of red stone and packed dirt as if nature built it herself.

The stall to my left boasts fae elixirs, and it has everything from hair growth to impotence cures. On my right is a blacksmith with cursed blades.

I relax when I am here, since no one cares who I am. Here, I am not weird, and I blend right in—apart from the demon hanging in my stall that no one can see. Demons aren't welcome, but he doesn't care.

He whistles as he plays with the troll-made toy I bought to occupy him so he doesn't spook or curse my customers, which has happened in the past.

Music floats through the market, no doubt from the bars just above us. I wave at familiar customers, and a nice troll giggles next to a dragon shifter. Here, I'm not a freak, and I love it.

Hours later, I sell out of my wares, so I close up early and send everything back through the portal before hesitating. Usually, I would go back through, but I remember my thoughts from yesterday, and despite the demon's eyes on me, I turn away and head towards the bar a level up.

It's a dark haven with alcohol that can get us supes drunk. The bright light flashes with the music, and I ignore the dance floor in favour of the bar. I'm not here to drink or dance. I scan the patrons as the demon murmurs in my ear.

"Feeling needy, little witch?" I ignore him, and he licks my ear. "I could take care of it for you."

When I ignore him, he chuckles darkly, but I can almost taste his glee at me finally giving in. "Who will it be tonight? How about a nice fae? I like the way they glisten below you. No? How about a vamp? You do like blood play, and I love watching it trickle down your skin."

He always watches.

It shouldn't excite me, it shouldn't make my core clench, but it does. Knowing he will watch me fuck whoever I bring back helps me choose my target for the night. He loves to watch, and tonight, I'll give him a show. Weaving through the crowd, I head to my mark.

Supes are so much more open than humans with their sexual habits, and I'm no different. I love to explore and push boundaries, and tonight, I'm going to give the demon the show he so desperately wants.

The gargoyle is bent over the wooden table, making it look dainty. He's the colour of stone, with stone wings tucked into his back. His face is chiselled and handsome, though made of rock, and I can't wait to feel his hard lips.

He lifts his head, his brown eyes widening as I approach, and when I reach him, I flutter my eyelashes. I might be small, but I like them big. I like to feel their strength.

"I've never had stone," I remark as I watch him. "Is it as hard as it seems?"

He blinks, and I realise stone can blush, but it's a deeper grey colour. "Why don't you find out?" he asks in a deep voice.

Good boy. He'll do.

Smirking, I turn and walk away, feeling his disappointment until I turn back. "Follow me."

He downs his drink and pushes from his chair. He's easily double my height and width, but I lick my lips in anticipation. When he's behind me, I wind through the bar and out, leading him where I want.

"What's your name, little witch?"

My demon hisses at that.

"Freya. Call me that or anything other than little witch." If I'm to get what I want, then the demon cannot be angry and murder him, and he doesn't like it when someone else calls me little witch.

That's reserved for him.

"Freya," he repeats, rock crashing in his voice. "Beautiful."

"Thank you." I grab his hand and back under the curtain to the dwelling cut into the side of this level. We all use them. They are spread out, and this one is free. There's a bed and not much else, which is all I need.

"My name is—" I cover his mouth, climbing him to do so.

"I don't need it. No words, just fucking," I murmur, tracing my tongue over his stone lips. A shiver goes through me at the idea of grinding my pussy against them and feeling that hard stone against my clit.

"Fine by me." He grabs me, and I fly through the air, hitting the bed hard, and then he's on me.

My head tips back as he rips off my clothes, his wings spanning the width of the room as he grips me firmly, denting my curves. His stone lips slide down my chest, rubbing against my hard nipples, and I open my eyes, my gaze clashing with the glittering demon's as he leans back against the wall in the corner of the room.

He wears a hungry smirk on his lips as he watches me, ready to feast on my desire.