Page 17 of Demon Heart: The Complete Series

I put the Sneaky End into my bedside drawer, locking it.

“You stay right there,” I told it.

Along with many other things, one of the biggest problems I faced was Xavier. More to the point, the lack of his presence. Keith and the silver fuckers wanted him as part of their condition to not fuck up my life. But where to start looking for him?

Scrying spells were dead. I mourned them the most because they were so handy in a hunt.

To help me think, I put the kettle on.

Darcy busied himself on his wheel, listening to Bruce Springsteen. I sat at my tiny, round kitchen table, working on a crossword.

Two across. Seven letters. Clue: Gold is said to be found at the end of this.

“Seriously?”

I filled in rainbow , checking the book for indications of being too easy.

Darcy started singing along to “Hungry Heart,” a decent set of lungs on him considering his rat status.

I tapped my foot along with the song, scowling at my three across. Six letters. Clue: an aquatic creature with a hard aspect.

What a load of crap.

Less than two minutes later, the easiest crossword in the world complete, I closed the book, eager to be outside. Yeah, I should be resting. Napping, gathering all my strength for tonight, repeating the cycle tomorrow.

Tell that to my rising anxiety.

Finding Xavier would cool me down. Driving my dagger into Keith’s face, or cleaving Beard Guy’s head from his shoulders were also good balms for an angry assassin witch.

A spider scuttled across my crossword book, vanishing behind my cup. I lifted it, the arachnid gone.

“You looked like a biggy,” I said.

Spiders didn’t bother me. As long as they weren’t crawling over my face or building webs on my pillows, me and arachnids were good.

My grandma once told me about us swallowing spiders in our sleep, that they probably did crawl over us in the late of night. Not to scare me, but to be matter of fact. She loved facts, picking up all sorts of things from the various quiz shows she loved, exclusively reading non-fiction books.

A shame she never got to be a contestant on one of those shows. She’d have smashed it. Hard.

“Out in the Street” played in the living room. Maybe I should go join my little buddy, chill out with some music. Anxiety hindered my work. I had to shake it off by not wandering the streets.

Sipping more tea, I went to get up when the spider reappeared.

“Hi,” I said, ready to move my hand if it rushed me.

Weird colorings. A platinum-shaded body, but bright eyes of different colors. I leaned in closer.

“Amethyst, ruby?—”

The eight-legged dickhead came at me lightning-quick, landing on the back of my hand. A sharp pain, me flapping about like a complete tool, tripping over my chair. I saved my backside from kissing the floor, but a sudden wave of dizziness got my arse back in the chair.

“What’s…”

My vision blurred, mind sinking into heady soup. I slumped forward, hands braced on the table as energy leaked out of me.

“What…”

So tired, so weak. My face lowered to the table, right cheek pressing into the pine, fatigue a dozen hands dragging me down and down and down and down.

I yawned, confused, really tired.

Sleepy time.

Five minutes.

Just five minutes.

The pungent stench of ammonia slapped me awake into thick darkness.

Interesting.

I was in an upright position, my head a building site of pounding. I tried lifting my arms, meeting resistance at my wrists. Chains clattered as I tried moving again, the same with my legs.

Chained to a chair, but not gagged. Okay. How? I’d been at home in my kitchen, drinking and and?—

The spider!

Seriously? A spider did this?

I scanned the darkness, trying to pick out any signs of life, ears ready to catch sounds.

Nothing.

The chains were taut enough to stop me reaching for Skele or my dagger—both still there.

Strange.

I readied my Synth for when I received better information on my situation.

“Is anyone there?” I tried.

“Me.”

“Xavier?” His voice hit me like a bulldozer.

“We need to talk.”

“Huh?”

“We need to talk, Roman.” Menace swam in his voice.

“What are you doing?”

“I’ll be the one asking the questions.”

So, it came down to this, did it? The demon screwing me over, showing himself as one of the vile ones.

“I should’ve let them take you,” I said.

“I thought that would be your response.”

“How perceptive.”

I pulled on my restraints, trying to find him in the dark. “Prick. I bet you really did trick me into helping you with your scent.”

“No.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that?” I got ready to cast a spell.

“How is the inside of Buckingham Palace?”

At that, I unleashed a light spell, a bright explosion of red filling the room, revealing cracked stone walls and floor, windows covered in newspaper sprayed with black paint.

Basement?

Xavier stood before me, arms folded, completely unbothered. Dressed in blue jeans and a navy sweater, his platinum hair glimmering as blood in sunlight, the red light painting more danger across his features.

He’d seen me enter the palace.

Shit.

I kept up the spell. “There you are.”

“Here I am.”

“Why don’t you let me out of these chains before I turn you into a fly?”

“I’ll enter you and chew your insides with my fly teeth, piece by tiny piece.”

Why did that sound kind of hot? “I can hurt you, demon. Chains won’t stop me.”

He drew a gun, aiming it at my head. “Are you faster than a bullet?”

My insides churned with fear and rage. “You piece of shit.”

He smiled. “Interesting that you think you are in the right here.”

“I kind of am, considering I’m the one in chains with a gun pointed at my head.”

“What a tongue you have.”

“The better for calling out bullshit with.”

Another chuckle, laced with sexiness. “Start talking.”

He’d seen me go into the poxy palace. “About what?”

“Your trip to see the queen. At least, I’m presuming it was her.”

I kept my lips sealed.

Xavier stepped closer. “I don’t want to hurt you, Roman. Not yet.”

“But you will.”

“If I have to.”

He wouldn’t get the chance.

I cast a spell of sickness on him, immediately sending a breaking spell into my binds. They lit up like metal in a forge but without the heat, breaking seconds later.

As I jumped up, Xavier grabbed for me.

Why wasn’t he bent over, puking his guts up?

Shit. I couldn’t use that spell again for another six months.

Worry about it later!

Reflexes on point, I dodged his grab, darting to the left. Where the hell was the exit? I couldn’t see a door or anything.

He charged at me. I countered with a kick that missed, spinning and flipping backward.

I hit him with more magic—the fly spell.

It bounced off him as water to glass.

“Huh?”

“Stop this,” he said, rather too calmly.

“Fuck you.” I unleased an aggressive burst of energy at him, scarlet explosions tearing open his sweater.

He should be flat on his back, but he kept on coming.

Shit!

I hit him again and again, my hands a riot of agony, my heart pounding. “Get the fuck away from me!”

“Stop, Roman.”

“Not until you’re on your back.”

His sweater hung off him in tatters by the end of my onslaught, leaving his magnificent top half exposed.

I sagged, exhausted, barely able to flex my fingers. I staggered back into the wall, fumbling for an exit plan.

“Are you done?” he asked, the light spell flickering toward death.

I couldn’t keep this up, could barely stand. Too much magic within minutes. “Stay the fuck away.”

Pushing through the pain, I drew my dagger.

He chuckled. “Such a determined witch.”

He’d have to kill me because no amount of torture would force me to spill my secrets.

“Fuck off…”

“You’re cute when you’re angry.”

“Get away from me.” I lifted the dagger, right hand begging me to stop.

My arm swung back, hitting the wall, stuck flat against the cold stone. I looked over at my outstretched limb as the dagger clanged on the floor. A splatter of what appeared to be spider webbing pinned me below the wrist. I tried to move my arm, the sticky stuff like steel.

A spider’s web was steel to insects.

Spider…

Xavier’s fingers were strangely shaped—only three of them now, no thumb. He spun silk from spinnerets where his knuckles should’ve been.

What. The. Fuck. Terror rolled through me. Was I about to be a fly to this…this thing?

More silk burst from those spinnerets, pinning my other arm to the wall, dealing with my legs next.

Trapped.

“Much better,” he said, coming closer.

I tried to fight back, calling to my magic. But it was done, and these webs were kind of pushing against it.

He would not see my fear. “So, magically resistant, are you?”

“A little.”

He moved closer.

Too close.

“Why are you doing this?” I demanded.

“For my own safety. I don’t know who you are.” He looked down at his bare chest.

“Likewise,” I countered. “To think I helped you out.”

A quirk of his left eyebrow.

“So, you’re Spider-Man, are you?”

He rubbed the side of his mouth with his thumb. “Not as perky.”

I tried to stop my eyes from roaming over his muscles, but they were an all-you-can-stare-at buffet testing my resistance.

Fuck this. I met him square in the eye. “You were a spider on my kitchen table, and you bit me. Explain.”

I’d come to that horrible conclusion seconds ago.

He shook his head. “I’m the one in charge here.”

Once again, that sounded so damn hot. “Only because you’re too much of a coward to free me.”

He backed off slightly, austere iciness taking over his expression.

The light spell died, plunging us into darkness.

“I didn’t want to show my forms too soon.”

“Your spider forms? How many are there?”

A click of a light switch and spotlights embedded in the ceiling came to life. I blinked under their glare, taking a few minutes to adjust.

Wow. Under non-crimson light, he looked amazing. A lot more powerful than last night, a true force of danger.

He shifted before me, his clothes dissolving off his body as he grew in size, eight limbs replacing his arms and legs, those jeweled eyes in a platinum furry head.

Oh. My. God.

A platinum blond spider, a cross between the shape of one of those tiny jumping spiders and a tarantula, loomed over me. His legs were pointed, as deadly as blades, and those fangs were big enough to cut me in half.

“Xavier…” I breathed, cold terror running wild.

He wanted to eat me. This was his true nature, the real him.

The real monster.

He changed again, shrinking into the tiny spider for a few seconds, then back into his naked humanoid form, his dick pointing at me.

The form with regular hands, and so fucking delicious.

I swallowed. “At least I know what you are now.”

“Then you should be sufficiently afraid.”

I hated him. I hated myself for getting caught in his web. Literally.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“Fuck off.”

“Do not try my patience, Roman.”

“I’ll try and try until you break,” I snapped. “You’re getting nothing out of me.”

Another rule: Die before any confession.

He licked his lips, his pink tongue full of promise if put to other uses.

For God’s sake!

“Tenacious, aren’t you?” he said.

I kept quiet, plotting his demise. Well, maybe not his demise, but certainly a hefty dose of suffering.

He raked his gaze across me, angling his head to the side. “Fascinating.”

Not as fascinating as my fist down your throat.

“Why were you following me?” I asked, breaking my own silence.

“I’m the one asking questions.”

“Then we’re at a stalemate because I’m saying nothing.”

“You just did.”

“Facetiousness is a bad look.”

A twitch of his lips. “Talk to me and I’ll let you go.”

“No.”

He went over to the chair, dragging it over. Turning it with the back facing me, he straddled it, spreading those thighs, his cock hidden behind a wall of plastic.

I clenched my jaw as his scent tickled my senses. “Stop…”

“I’m not doing anything.” His smirk told me otherwise.

“And I’m not playing games.”

“Then talk.”

“You talk, arachnid.”

The demon was a spider. Some sort of shifter, which really gave me the willies.

“I can keep this up for as long as required.”

“So can I.”

He folded his arms across the back of the chair, resting his chin on them. “We’ll see what happens next.”

“Yeah, we will.”