Page 13
Story: Gift for a Demon
Dave swallowed down. He was so dead—maybe he could lunge at Melchom while he was distracted, though. Yank a piece of that hair he still wanted to touch, run to the bathroom, and negotiate with the minions so they protected him?
Was that a thing?
He should’ve grabbed one of the weapons he’d been admiring earlier.
Too late to notice that now.
Melchom growled.
Double shit.
Dave thought it would be because he noticed the tiara, but no. Those dark eyes hadn’t left his since he’d walked in. He might not be the best at staying present, but being hyper alert in the background was kind of his thing.
“You think you can beat me?”
“Uh… n-no?” Dave flinched away. Melchom kept walking into his personal space, crowding him until he was pressing against the iron-clad headboard. “Where have you been? All this time, I mean.”
“Working.” Melchom smirked. He had to know that wasn’t the type of answer Dave was looking for. “You know, making deals with minions isn’t a good idea.”
“It isn’t?”
Dave frowned. There were moments yesterday—and even now—when he felt certain the demon was rummaging around in his head, learning about all his deepest secrets and the insecurities he could exploit. Other times, he wasn’t sure because Melchom asked about things he’d know if he’d gotten in his head. He didn’t seem to know things the other minions didn’t bother to pretend they didn’t, either.
“They’re not trustworthy.”
“I imagine no demon is,” Dave managed to say without choking on his words.
“You’re getting smart.”
The teasing in Melchom’s tone wasn’t making him feel too smart. Dave guessed it was purposeful.
“What deal, anyway?” He wasn’t sure what made him feel so brazen, or daring, but he managed to hold the demon’s gaze as he posed the question.
Melchom grinned before he licked his bottom lip. Dave didn’t know what he’d been expecting, and a snake-like tongue wasn’t that out there, but it still surprised him and made him recoil further.
“You tell me.”
“There’s no deal,” Dave lied.
Jordan had once teased him about what a good liar he was. Dave guessed there was no better time to test that theory.
“Why don’t you go to the bathroom, then?” Melchom inched back. “I’m sure you’d enjoy soaking in the tub.”
“I’m good.” That was another lie, but one he wished he didn’t have to sell. “I prefer walk-in showers. Do you even have plumbing in Hell?”
“Our own version of it.” Melchom shrugged, one hand going to his braided hair, fingers trailing over it, as if he was taunting him. “There are walk-in showers in the common area downstairs. I can take you there.”
The demon was definitely up to something. Those dark eyes twinkled as he watched him, as if Dave was a cool ride at an amusement park.
“Why would you do that? You weren’t nice yesterday.”
Melchom’s eyes widened, even if Dave noted that he tried to hide the reaction. “I can’t be nice?”
“You’re a demon,” he murmured.
“So?”
Dave huffed. The whole situation was suffocating. He couldn’t think, couldn’t come up with logical reasons to argue why he was better off never leaving this room when the gigantic demon was mere inches away.
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
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- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13 (Reading here)
- Page 14
- Page 15
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- Page 17
- Page 18
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