Page 22 of Hellish Witch (Playing with Demons #3)

Chapter 21

M y eyes snapped open, heart racing as I took in the unfamiliar room.

“Killian?” I gasped, sitting upright and searching for the demon amongst the shadows.

A bright cherry lit the tip of a smoke stick, drawing my focus to the incubus.

He leaned out the open window, horns almost scraping the shutters. He’d removed the gauze from his chest, but it had been long enough now that the wounds had mostly closed.

“Sweetness,” he rasped, exhaling a stream of dark smoke. “It’s only been a few hours. Go back to sleep.”

I shuffled up the bed until my back hit the wall, drawing my legs up to hug under the furs. I still felt tired, but it wasn’t something sleep could fix. This was an energy drain, leaving me hollow and oddly deflated.

Really, what I needed was to feed.

The thought had me blushing as I realised who I wanted to feed from.

I cleared my throat, awkward in the lingering silence. “I can’t sleep.”

One side of his smirk slashed through the moonlight that bathed him. “In that case, wait here.”

He turned, balancing the roll-up between his lips as he made his way to the door. The lock clicked behind him, and my eyes narrowed on the scarred wood sealing me in.

In seconds, he was back, though, not even a creaking floorboard outside to announce his return. The door clicked again as he turned the key, entering on silent steps.

My brows leaped up.

Killian—bloodthirsty, unhinged enforcer of the most hated kingdom in hell—was holding a cake.

I arched a brow. “First a tongue and now this?” I drawled. “Aren’t you just the gift that keeps on giving?”

“Well, it is after midnight. You think I’d have forgotten your birthday?” he mused, a sardonic smirk on his face.

My mind struggled to process that Killian, of all people, was holding a tall cake slathered in pink frosting. It was even on a fancy gold-rimmed plate and topped with candied blood drops. He brought it over, resting it on the shoddy nightstand.

He perched on the edge of the bed. Even folded tightly, one wing-tip brushed the back of my hand where it lay over the fur blanket.

Killian tipped his head back, eyes on the starry sky through the open window. “You know… You were the first person to get me a cake, or anything sweet, actually.”

I frowned at him. “I was?”

He inclined his horns with a wry quirk of his lips. “In my old kingdom, they called us Ra Na Tha’an .” Silvered eyes pierced mine. “Child of Fate.”

My brows furrowed. “That doesn’t sound like a bad thing.”

He held my gaze steady. “Nobody would choose to create us. We’re the cruel burdens that fate delivers.”

An ache fissured through my heart. I would never forget the first time I’d seen Killian. Battered. Bruised. But not broken. Never broken.

He’d staggered between kingdoms for weeks until finding ours. The rumoured safe haven for hybrids.

He was only a teenager when he’d arrived but had already lived lifetimes’ worth of cruelty.

Like all of us.

“You could never be a burden,” I whispered, feeling something burn in my chest. “Not to anyone who matters.”

His lips twitched, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Anyway, slaves don’t have birthdays.” A hard look entered his eyes, almost as if he turned so brittle he might shatter. “But when I first arrived in the Hybrid Kingdom and was staying at the cabin you and Rex shared, you asked my age. I was roughly nineteen, if the other slaves were to be believed, but I knew then it was the start of my new life. I claimed that day as my birthday.” He leaned toward me, giving me his full attention. Eyes unflinching in their directness, some hidden emotion churned in their endless depths. “You came back a few hours later with a giant cake, layered in bright-pink frosting, with poisoned flowers decorating the top.”

The memory brought a blush to my cheeks. “Bloodbores.”

He grinned, a genuine expression I didn’t see often enough on his features. “The same stunning colour as your hair and eyes.”

It was also the flower I used as a base for my most vicious poisons and a few healing salves. Huge planters of them sat under the front windows outside my house. But I hadn’t been the one to plant my favourite flower there.

I’d always assumed the present was from Rex, a brotherly housewarming gift, but now that I thought about it… Rex was more likely to gift me weapons than flowers.

I ducked my head, unable to bear the intensity as I battled the realisation sinking in. “Sorry I tried to poison you on your birthday. Some healer, huh?”

“It was perfect.” He shook his horns. “I set the sugared flowers aside and pressed them in a book,” he whispered.

The words were so quiet, I could have almost imagined them.

I didn’t know what to do with that information.

Was this attraction more than one-sided? I was a succubus though; wouldn’t I have felt his desire before this cursed trip if that were true? Why would he flip between flirting and treating me like a kid? I knew he charmed all women. He was pure seduction, even for an incubus.

My heart beat too fast, frantically trying to pump blood to my brain to fuel my confused thoughts.

“Killian…” I trailed off, unsure what to say.

He cleared his throat, looking almost pained before donning his usual sinful mask. “Anyway, kid, here’s me returning the favour.”

He swiped another rolled stick of haze from somewhere and pressed it between his lips. Leaning over, he lit the end using the birthday candle and drew a deep inhale before blowing out a puff of sweet smoke. A dark stream poured from his lips, leaving behind a sharp smirk on shadowed lips.

I frowned. He didn’t always smoke the numbing drug, but I suspected he’d been using it as a crutch over the years, when things got too heavy.

“Well?” He quirked a brow. “Blow out your candle, sweetness.”

I rolled my eyes, lips twitching. “Yes, sir.”

He jolted as if I’d struck him. Lips tightened around the drug perched between them.

I swallowed, and hurried to blow out the candle.

Everything was so damned messy when it came to Killian.

I met his gaze, the pale wisps of the extinguished candle rising between us. I was hyperaware that we were in a bed, alone, and hunger thrived inside us both.

He was a carnal being, sin and seduction made flesh.

In theory, so was I. Even though I’d never felt all that alluring.

My fangs ached to sink into something, and I darted my tongue out to wet my lower lip.

Killian’s stormy gaze followed the movement, predator quick. I swallowed again, and his eyes dropped to my throat.

I couldn’t help tilting my head, stretching the column of my throat in a silent invitation.

“Princess…,” he breathed, voice as smoky as the drug he’d been inhaling. “I can feel how much you need to feed.”

The words punched into me, slamming into my heart until my chest resounded like a drum with every pulsing beat.

He was right though. Hunger clawed at my insides, phantom aches in my chest letting me know the cake alone wouldn’t satisfy me.

I needed more.

“I… You’re right,” I whispered, afraid to break the hushed cocoon the night had created for us. “I’ll go down to the bar. See if anyone is willing to feed me.”

His white wings bled darkness. His eyes hard, his lips peeled back to bare lethal fangs. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Before my brain could process his words, his hand wrapped around my throat and yanked me down the bed. He pinned me against the mattress with a single hand, silver eyes boring down into my very soul as he leaned over me.

“I’m only going to say this once, sweetness.” His voice was a harsh rasp, his grip branding hot against my vulnerable throat. “Tell me to leave.”

Did I want this?

My chest heaved with each panting breath that sawed in and out of my lungs.

I wanted this with every fibre of my fucking being.

“No.”