Page 18 of Demon Heart: The Complete Series

“ T hat’s now two hours gone,” Xavier declared.

No words had left my mouth for the entire duration. Just a frequently creased forehead, and plenty of angry eyes.

“How about a drink?” he suggested.

“How about you sip on some diesel? See what happens.”

“He speaks.”

I couldn’t resist the comeback.

“Do you work for Queen Margarite?” he tried for the hundredth time.

Silence.

“Shouldn’t you be at the memorial birthday service for King Lawrence? It starts soon.”

Lips zipped.

“Do you want to watch it?” he wondered.

“Stop pretending to be accommodating,” I snapped.

“But I’m not pretending.”

“No, you’re being a complete prick.”

“We can stop this nonsense if you just talk to me.”

I shook my head. At least my hands were getting some rest.

He stood up, stretching his arms above his head. “You must understand that I’m covering myself here. I see you enter the palace, and it sends up many red flags. It makes me wonder what you’re up to.”

“None of your business.”

“But it is.”

“How can it be? What are you worried about? I let you crash in my flat, use my bathroom. I made you tea, I kept you safe, and off you went. I thought we were done this morning.”

He didn’t respond.

“My life is none of your business. Okay? So you can stop with your scenty tricks and your bullshit. I’m willing to let this slide if you let me go. Scouts honor. You go your way, I’ll go mine.”

And I meant it. This was too much extra trouble for me.

Hands rested on his hips. “I told you before, I can’t help the effects of my scent.”

Whatever.

“Who are you?” he asked me again.

“Roman Gold. Nice to meet you.”

“A coin.”

“Huh?”

“A Roman gold coin.”

I rolled my eyes. “Pardon me while I laugh my head off.”

Demonic white flooded his eyes. “If you were any other witch with a cocky mouth, I would be basking in your screams.”

“Try it.”

“I can hurt the truth out of you.”

“As I said, try it. I’m quite kinky, so you’ll struggle.”

He was bringing out my cocky side.

His nostrils flared. “Why are you being so difficult?”

“Why are you being a prick?”

“Roman—”

“Why don’t you tell me who you are first?”

“I—”

“Let me level with you here, give you a little something.”

“I’m listening.”

I swallowed, my mouth dry. I really could do with a drink. “Remember Beard Guy?”

“Do you call him that, too?”

“Huh?”

“Same wavelength, Roman.”

“Shut up. Anyway, it turns out he has a video of me rescuing you. I’m being blackmailed by, let’s just say, a pain in my arse who is now mingling with your silver friends.”

No response from the sexy spider demon who, if the circumstances were different, could drag himself over here and ravish me because being at his mercy stirred many an exquisite thrill.

I blamed his scent. Again.

“I can’t have the video getting out there. To stop it, they want you.”

He stepped closer. “I see.”

“Want to know more? Let me go.”

“I’m just supposed to walk into a trap?”

“I don’t care.”

“Neither do I.”

“Stalemate again.”

“The queen would be furious to witness you saving a demon,” he said in a husky tone.

I took a moment to answer, in case my voice came out with a crack. “Yeah.”

“Care to offer me more details?”

“Take a wild guess.”

He sighed, folding his arms. “Listen, let’s talk about this.”

“I thought we were talking.”

“Those hunters…”

“What about them?”

“I can’t go back to them.”

“Then kill them.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I’d like to.”

“Why can’t you? I mean, look at you. Break their faces, wrap them up in silk and suck them dry.” Yuck. “That’s how spiders eat, right?”

He dragged his fingers through his hair. “It’s not that simple.”

“Why?”

“Because of the poison.”

I kept quiet.

“I never thought I would see it again, the last of it was used against me centuries ago.”

How old was he?

“It’s called Lemon Drop, specifically designed to hurt demons of my type.”

“I’m guessing we’re not talking about the cocktail.”

“No.”

“Your type?”

“Arachnid demon.”

“So, you hate lemons? I’ve heard spiders aren’t keen on citrussy smells.”

“Yes, but a magnified version. The recipe was lost. I helped lose it and it never crossed over to the human realm. Somehow, it has been rediscovered.”

“Are the hunters demons?”

“No. I didn’t see or feel a demon around me.”

“You can do that?”

“Better than many.”

“There might be a demon involved,” I said.

“It’s a possibility.”

“What does the poison do to you?”

It explained why I’d smelled lemons last night.

He regarded me for a moment, clearly annoyed at being the questioned one. “Weakens me. They wear it as perfume to repel me. When injected into my veins, or spread on my skin, it makes me sick.”

“Right. So why have they gone to the trouble of making this Lemon Drop again?”

“I don’t know.”

“Can’t say I believe you after this.”

His hands returned to his hips. “Do you believe they have a video of you?”

“I’m not taking the risk.”

“Insinuating you will be taking me along this evening.”

“Got it in one.”

Who were these hunters to know about ancient demonic poisons?

He turned his back on me. “We really are in a tricky situation.”

“I’ll say.”

“What to do.”

“Start by letting me go.”

He looked over his shoulder at me. “So we can fight again?”

“No.”

Fully turning, he strode toward me. “Tell me one thing.”

“What?”

“Does your connection with the queen have anything to do with me?”

“Is that what this is about?”

“I’m making sure.”

“No.”

“I’m ruling out any plots against me.”

Now came the details.

“Are you working with the hunters? Is your queen involved with them?”

“Why didn’t you ask me this before?”

He came so much closer to me, his body inches away, his natural heat licking at my face. “Answer me.”

“No. Not as far as I’m aware.”

“And would you be aware?”

I went still. “I’m not plotting against you, believe me.”

He watched my face for lies, giving nothing away.

“Do you have a problem with Her Majesty?” I questioned.

“She isn’t on my radar.”

“You’re seriously worried about me more than the queen?”

“I have to rule out everything,” he said.

“Fine. Is that why you followed me when you should be getting out of the city?”

His face moved in closer, coming to stop almost within kissing distance. “I’m not ready to leave.”

A soft tremor rocked my body.

Fuck.

“If you’re lying to me,” he added, still so close, “I will kill you, lovely face or not.”

Lovely face?

“Okay.”

“Do we have a deal?” he said.

“Yeah. We have a deal. Same goes for you. Try it and I’ll cut your balls off.”

A smirk. “I’m sure.”

Xavier began with the silk below my left arm. He licked it like a lover, the web splitting gently, dissolving into thin air.

My arm dropped. I pulled it back to my body, holding it straight beside me.

I watched him lick me to freedom, his movements so fluid and graceful, sending happy vibes to my penis.

Free at last, I bent to pick up my dagger.

He got there first.

“Give it to me,” I ordered.

He turned it over, inspecting the gold coin embedded in the hilt. “What is this?”

“Trinket.”

“A strange thing to have in a weapon.”

“It’s none of your business. Hand it over.”

He did.

I snatched it, sheathing it at my hip. “What did your spider bite do to me?”

“Put you to sleep. Simple smelling salts woke you up.”

“I don’t require a dose of antivenom?”

He shook his head. “No.”

I resisted the urge to lunge at him. “Now what?”

“Would you like some help with your hands?”

“You won’t be touching me again.” Even if it would be nice to have them massaged.

I winced on cue, rubbing at my fingers, cracking my knuckles.

“Painkillers, I mean,” he said. “I can get you some.”

“How do I know they’re not tranquilizers?”

“That’s fair, but not true.”

I shrugged, confused once again. Why didn’t I just kick his arse so hard he’d be healing in his realm for decades? Curiosity? Horniness? A combination of the two?

I guess I wanted to see what happened, even if it turned out to be detrimental to my health.

“We’re not friends,” I added. “This is a temporary truce.”

“Thin ice?”

“Exactly.”

“Where are we?”

“Basement of an abandoned clothes shop in north London.”

“Right. What?—”

He broke into a run, slamming through a door painted to look like the walls. Who does that shit, especially in a shop basement?

I ran after him.

“Sorry, witch!” he yelled. “I’m not to be traded!”

I took a wooden stairwell two steps at a time, arriving at a shop floor of broken floorboards and peeling wallpaper. Bare mannequins stood everywhere, some of them sprawled on the floor like corpses.

The shop door closed with a click, the whole shop front boarded over.

I yanked the door. Locked.

With a quick use of Skele, I was outside in a bustling street packed with shoppers going about their business, carrying loaded shopping bags.

I darted across the road to a fence, a park on the other side, getting a scope of my surroundings.

Plenty of people, no Xavier.

“Oi.” A man, standing beside me yelled, jabbing a finger in my face, inches away from making contact.

“Back up,” I responded, standing my ground.

“What were you doing in that old shop?” He must have been in his forties or so. “Squatting?”

“Mind your business.”

He puffed himself up, reminding me of a male pigeon trying to get laid. “This street is my business.”

I ignored him, scanning for platinum blond hair or a tiny spider.

“Oi!”

Man, his breath reeked of beer.

“Point at me again and I’ll give you something to really moan about,” I retorted.

He put his fists up. “Think I’m scared of you? Come on. Let’s have ya!”

There was a commotion further up the street to my left, two men stumbling out of a flower shop. One of them swung a punch just as this guy made his move on me.

I grabbed the prick’s arm, twisting it and him, pinning it behind his back. He squealed, attempting to stomp on my feet. I drove my knees between his legs, let him go down to his knees to think about his dickheadedness.

A spectator at the fight outside the flower shop got knocked to the ground, violence rippling through the people.

What was with this place?