Page 7 of Demon Heart: The Complete Series

I used Skele to steal a car, getting us away from Hyde Park without incident.

Man, this night sucked, gorgeous demon in my presence or not. In fact, that only made things suck harder.

I drove us back to Soho, dumping the car a few streets away in a dank alley reeking of piss and vomit. Messaged Piper again to deal with it.

She really wasn’t my fan tonight.

“We’ll walk the rest,” I said, opening the passenger door for the demon.

“Okay, human,” he said.

“It’s Roman.” There I went, giving out my real name as if names meant nothing.

Names were dangerous things in the wrong hands.

“What is?” the demon asked.

“My name.”

“I see. I’m Xavier.” He took my hand for assistance.

So warm…

“Keep your head down as much as you can,” I said.

He bent to check himself in the wingmirror. “So much blood.”

“At least your wound’s stopped bleeding.”

“I don’t bleed for long, human.”

“Roman.”

“Yes. Sorry.” He eased himself down to his knees.

“What are you doing?” I asked, moving to help.

The demon scooped water from a puddle beside the front tire, scrubbing at his face.

“That’s disgusting,” I said, wrinkling my nose.

He ignored me, the dirty water doing the trick to remove the black blood, leaving bits of dirt clinging to his skin.

“Someone probably pissed in that,” I pointed out.

“Smells like it.”

Pardon me while I puke. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“And yet you keep slapping it on?”

Xavier turned to face me over his shoulder. “Would you rather I walked the streets covered in demon blood?”

“No, but that can’t be fun dousing your face in piss water.”

“Do you have a shower in your home?”

“Yeah.”

“Then there’s no problem, is there?”

I folded my arms a little too petulantly. “Guess not.”

“Can you help me up, please?”

I did, getting a heady waft of wee. “Yuck.”

“I know. But now you can pass me off as drunk, can’t you?”

“What about the stains on your shirt and jeans?” Both blue garments were destined for a sixty-degree wash.

“Say I spilled an OctoCockto on myself.”

“A what?”

“You’ve never had one? It’s part gin, part licorice liquor with a splash of absinthe and lemon tonic water.”

“Interesting. Guessing it’s supposed to look like octopus ink?”

He nodded. “You should try one. There’s a good cocktail bar around here.”

“Not right now.”

“Do you get out much, Roman?”

“We’re done talking.”

“Fine. Take me to your home.”

He was still so hot against me, his body temperature like a pleasant summer’s day.

We moved through the streets, passing rowdy bars and clubs, no one paying us much attention. One woman stopped to ask if my friend was okay, and I told her he needed his bed and a word with himself for downing so many cocktails.

She looked him up and down. “OctoCocktos get the better of us all.” She winked, then added, “Love the hair, babe.”

Xavier lifted his head, giving her his best inebriated smile. “Thanks.” He hiccupped, then groaned.

Oh, she wasn’t talking about my ruined hairdo.

The demon’s still looked perfect, damn him.

“Poor thing,” the woman said. She tapped me on the shoulder. “You take care of your man.”

“He’s not my?—”

But she yelled someone’s name, hurrying over to the guy on her sparkly pink stilettos.

Xavier chortled lightly. “Your man.”

“Shut up.”

A group of guys in the glitteriest outfits ever danced past us, blowing whistles, vanishing into the neon lights of the DanceFever nightclub. Heavy bass throbbed through the street, the club in full swing.

“We have to get inside,” I said.

“Did I give the impression I don’t understand the situation?”

“No need to snipe.”

“Then don’t point out the obvious to me.”

“I could drop your backside right here in this puddle.” I nodded at one beside the curb, a dirty tissue floating in it. “Seeing how much you love to get down and dirty in them.”

“Amusing.”

“Man, you stink.”

“And you smell of chocolate and sorrow.”

Whoa. Talk about a punch to the guts. “What does that mean?”

“I thought we had to get off the streets.”

Hmmm. A pretty face couldn’t cloak a pain in the arse.

“Move it, then,” I ordered, a passing man giving me come-to-bed eyes.

I rejected him with a bowed head.

“Your loss,” he retorted.

Not really. If he was arrogant enough to regard himself a stud, he probably packed an acorn dick and a bad attitude.

I held back from giving him the finger.

“Give me ten more seconds,” Xavier said, his hands curled into fists.

“Where are you hurting?”

“Everywhere. But I’m getting better by the hour thanks to my internal healing.”

“Nice gift to have.”

“Indeed.”

Twenty seconds later, he was ready to move again.

We got through the street entrance door to my flat next to the convenience store, up the stairs, through my actual front door at the top of them, and inside without incident.

Kicking the door closed behind me felt so good, the world once again kept at bay.

“A few more steps,” I said, helping him along the short walk of my hallway to the living room at the far end.

I helped him onto my brown leather, two-seater sofa. He wasn’t getting my sacred armchair.

Xavier heaved a heavy sigh of relief, slumping into the plump cushions. “Much better. Thank you, Roman.”

A squeak from the cage behind me. “What is that?” Darcy asked.

Xavier cocked his head curiously, his eyes blinking from white to blue three times in a row. “The rat speaks?”

“He does,” I responded, swallowing. “This is Darcy. Darcy, meet Xavier.”

“He’s a demon,” my rat friend said. “I saw his eyes.”

Xavier winced, emitting a soft groan. “My mistake.”

I tugged on my collar, a hot flush passing through me. The cinnamon violets were playing havoc on my senses. “Yeah, he’s a demon.”

“Why does he smell of pee?” Darcy’s little nose twitched.

“Long story.”

“We can’t have a demon in the flat.”

“I’ll be gone by morning,” Xavier countered. “Don’t trouble your tiny mind over me.”

“You lot are always trouble,” Darcy responded.

“Not me.” The demon stretched out his legs, his shoulders slumping. “I just want to bathe and sleep this night away.”

He wasn’t the only one. “Bathe?”

“Do you have a bath?” he asked. “I’m happy with a shower but would rather soak my muscles if possible.”

Muscles. His shape beneath his clothes, as well as what I’d felt of him, hinted at a deliciously sculpted form. Something I really shouldn’t be thinking about.

“Close your mouth, Roman,” Darcy said.

I recoiled in horror, touching my lips. “What? Shut up!”

“My mum used to say flies would get in,” he added.

“What are you talking about?”

He twitched his whiskers at me. “Nothing.”

No treats for him if he kept this up.

“I’ll run you a bath,” I told Xavier, hurrying off to the bathroom and cursing the undying heat in my crotch.