Page 4 of Hellish Witch (Playing with Demons #3)

Chapter 3

T he party raged around me.

A sensual beat swallowed my focus, the music pounding through the crowded living room loud enough to reverberate through my throat, up into my skull. I swore I could feel it right to the tips of my stubby horns, despite the number of demons between me and the band on their raised platform in the corner.

My hips rolled as I let the sultry pulse move me. Being part succubus had some perks, like an ingrained sense of rhythm strong enough to overcome my natural talent at making anything awkward.

I took a sip of the mystery punch in my glass as I swayed on the makeshift dance floor, savouring the fruity sweetness masking the sear of alcohol burning down my throat.

I could use all the potency to help numb my thoughts. Since killing the merchant last week, I’d been even more on edge, and not just because a certain incubus had been suspiciously quiet about it.

I’d not even had a chance to ask him how he’d found me that night. Had he stumbled across me in the woods by chance? Or had Rex had the stealthy enforcer keeping tabs on me?

Voices layered together as clusters of demons laughed and chatted around the hazy room, draped across the rustic dining table and huge sofas pushed to the edges.

Whooping and hollering. Drinking and dancing. Carefree.

Their easy smiles knifed through my vision. So I closed my eyes, willing the alcohol to work for once.

Everything else might be fucked, but for some reason, my body still healed itself. Alcohol was technically poison, and my innate magic couldn’t let me have a single break, apparently.

I’d returned to Hell two months ago, but I couldn’t seem to fit myself back into the life I’d known. The Hybrid Kingdom was exactly how I’d left it.

I was the one who’d changed.

“There you are.” A masculine huff yanked me from my dim thoughts.

Joachim reached for me, all four sweaty palms gluing straight to my hips and the little cutouts slicing along the clingy material of my black dress. The blood demon pushed his fingers through the gaps, and I swallowed the rising bile at his overwhelming touch.

I’d thought dating a guy with four arms would be fun, but I supposed I had another regret to add to my list.

He grinned, slit pupils blown wide and glassy in the flickering candlelight from the bone chandelier above. “I’ve been looking for you.”

And I’ve been hiding from you.

“Well…you’ve found me now.” I stretched my lips in an approximation of a smile.

The distinct sugared-apples flavour of his lust seeped into me, strengthening my demonic side, which in turn fed my human magic.

Being only half-succubus, I found it harder than most to feed on the invisible currents of desire others gave off, but touch helped. Though, not many demons usually threw their attraction my way. Especially given my almost human looks and the misfortune that seemed to plague my exes.

Sometimes, I wondered what my life would have looked like if my father had cared that I’d been born. If he’d taken me to grow up amongst mages in the human realm instead of leaving me to my unstable mother in Hell.

Would I have fit in with them any better? Or would I have been just as much an outsider as I was now?

Too human for demons. Too demon for humans.

Joachim’s sweet lust flowed stronger, sickly enough for saliva to pool in my mouth. Too many hands ran down my body. The demon leaned in close, and his wet tongue slicked a line up my neck.

I shuddered, and he huffed an amused chuckle, mistaking my reaction for want.

“Let’s find somewhere private. I know you’re starved for me, baby,” he purred in my ear, and spiders crept down my spine. “I’m not afraid to keep roosting with the widow-witch .”

I grimaced at the nickname.

My exes had a tendency to end up near dead, usually within days of breaking up with me or after a bad fight. None of them had said a word about what happened, no matter how hard people pressed them for answers.

Even I could admit it looked suspicious, though I was always the one to heal them afterwards. People had started calling me the widow-witch, after a bright-red bird native to the Bloodwood.

The females had a fun little tendency to eat their partners’ organs if they weren’t pleased with their…performance.

I pulled back, trying to hold myself together as Joachim’s claws scraped over my sides, touching even more skin. “Maybe later… I…”

“Come on, Eve. I know you’re not gonna be a flaming tease again.” Irritation edged his tone, and I found myself trying to dislodge his many hands.

They tightened, refusing to budge. The feel of being trapped sharpened my breaths.

“Eeeeeve!” A tall demon barrelled through the writhing crowd, her squeal loud enough to pierce the music. “It’s our song!”

Shanlir’s silver eyes were just as unfocused as Joachim’s, but the shrewd demon plucked my wrist and yanked me away from the guy I was apparently dating.

His eyes narrowed, lip curling enough to bare a fang. “I’ll find you later.”

It sounded more like a threat. My brittle smile only stretched wider as I waved goodbye with my drink, grateful for my oldest friend tugging me through the gyrating bodies to the edge of the room.

I winced as I stepped on a white bone-kin fur rug, now stained with various colours.

At least it wasn’t my house.

My friend halted right between two stuffed sofas overflowing with drunk demons.

I breathed a relieved sigh as I escaped wandering hands and a lapping tongue.

Shanlir booped me on the nose. “Silly witch, if you don’t like him, why don’t you just turn him into a frog?” She cackled at her own joke, clearly flying as high as a phoenix.

Under the dim lighting, her pale skin looked almost a plain ivory, but in the daylight, she’d sparkle like crushed pearls.

A snort broke through my forced grin. “He’s fine. A good snack in a pinch.”

Sometimes the screaming in my head was so loud, a distraction was the only thing stopping me from completely losing it.

Even if his touch could turn my stomach.

It was cheaper than therapy, I supposed. Not that we actually had a counsellor in our small kingdom, despite how many of us clearly needed mental help.

Shanlir shook her head, sending her frill-tipped antennae swaying around her waved horns. Her glazed eyes turned knowing, and I finally noticed the staining along her lower lip. It looked like she’d snaffled a whole bushel of darkberries.

“Onto the strong stuff, I see.” I jerked my chin at the telltale darkness.

She grinned wide, showing off her elegant dagger-like teeth, perfect for tearing flesh. Subconsciously, my tongue ran over the two short fangs I possessed, crowded by flat human teeth.

“I’m sure your big brother won’t kick me out of his kingdom for having a little fun.” She reached out to twirl one of my red waves around her finger and give it a playful tug.

I couldn’t help a real smile. “No, I guess not. For all I tease him for acting like a boring old uncle, he’s actually pretty chill.”

The hybrid demon king had taken me in when I was fifteen, practically raising me even though he was barely five years older than me. I loved Rex like a real brother. He was protective and funny, and he cared about us outcasts more than anyone.

My happy thoughts of Rex soured. He and his new witch queen had almost died trying to rescue me from the human realm a couple of months ago.

Guilt ate through my stomach like acid, mixing with the alcohol already sloshing around in there.

“Hey now, turn that frown upside down,” Shanlir giggled, smushing my cheeks together with her hands. “You’ve been such a grump lately.”

Probably because I was drowning in nightmares and committing accidental murders.

I swatted her hands away with a snort.

Someone knocked into my back, spilling my drink onto the floorboards.

The dark liquid splashing across the floor was a caged demon’s blood gushing out as a madman sliced right through his throat. As I was forced to watch. Unable to help. Trapped in a cage of my own.

Knowing I was next.

A burst of laughter nearby yanked me back to the present, and I swallowed down the jagged memory before it could choke me.

Shanlir scowled over my shoulder, and I gripped my now empty glass tighter, already suspecting who was behind me.

“Oops,” a smooth feminine voice drawled.

I turned to glare at Zahara. “Watch it.”

The smirking demon was everything a succubus should be, alluring in a way that went beyond her stunning looks. Long, sumptuous hair fell in waves down to her thighs, the dim lighting darkening the forest-green shade until it almost looked black. It covered more of her curvy body than the lacy chemise dress masquerading as clothing.

If I wasn’t careful, I’d get knocked out by a rogue tit when it popped out of the ridiculously tight push-up bra she’d squeezed into.

She was a hybrid, like nearly every demon here, except she was a cross between two closely linked sexual breeds. The snooty brat took that as her right to look down at the rest of us, like being a purer hybrid somehow made her better.

If she was the purest hybrid, I was the muttiest mutt. Only half demon, I lacked a lot of the usual traits. Sure, I had horns, claws, and fangs, but they were almost cute compared to a true demon’s. I was practically a harmless chibi version.

“Sorry, love, didn’t see you there,” she purred, blinking long sooty lashes in feigned innocence. “What with all the real demons around drawing the eye.”

Rake your claws over her throat. Make her bleed. A scratchy voice in my head hissed at me, begging for violence.

I ignored it with all the delusion I usually used to fantasise about me and Killian. My mental breakdown was looming larger with every passing day, but hearing voices was a fun new development to sprinkle in the with the flashbacks, panic attacks, and corrupted magic.

“B-Back off,” Shanlir stuttered, barely audible over the music. Her clenched fists shook at her sides.

She’d been raised a slave to one of the fight rings in a fear demon kingdom to the north. Considered too weak to put on a good show, she’d served drinks instead, often becoming a snack herself when the guests terrified her enough.

I never wanted her anywhere near violence again.

Zahara continued, as if my friend hadn’t even spoken. She raked her gaze from the points of my mini horns to the heeled sandals hugging my feet, her lips pouting in mock sympathy. “It must be hard, living amongst demons. Being away from your own kind.”

Her tone was seductive even while insulting me. She’d thought herself the queen of the kingdom, since she’d set her sights on my brother, the king. But he’d mated a stunning witch from the human realm a few weeks ago, and now Zahara’s mean streak was growing out of control.

“Just because I’m half-mage doesn’t mean I’m not demon enough to put you on your perky arse,” I hissed, my jaw aching with the need to sink my teeth into her throat and rip it out.

Anticipation weaved through me, coaxing my violent side out to play. My claws curled into the glass in my hand. An unhinged need to lash out burned through me until I felt like I’d explode if I didn’t attack.

Darkness writhed, poking at my insides as it hunted for a way out.

Fear sliced through my rage as I struggled to hold myself together, for Shanlir and the sake of everyone here. The glass shaking in my hand told me I was doing a terrible job at that too.

At least scratch an eye out. Crush it in front of her.

I pretended the psychotic voice rasping in my head didn’t exist.

A tittering laugh fell from Zahara’s glossed lips. “I’m sure you are, honey, but that doesn’t mean you’re succubus enough to claim a man.” Challenge flared in her sparkling eyes, and a sinking feeling weighed my gut. “I can’t imagine anyone would want to touch you. Poor Eve, you’ll probably die unmated.”

Her condescending tone set my fangs on edge.

She turned her back on me in a big fuck-you insult, letting her smooth arrowhead tail slide up to brush my bare arm. The rich glide felt like satin, seeming to mock me for my lack of one.

Shanlir trembled beside me, lips too thin, eyes too wide.

It helped me swallow down the violent rage. Gripping her shoulder, covered in soft ridges from her mantle of aquatic scales, I searched her gaze. “Hey, why don’t we go get a drink?”

“Y-Yeah, she’s not worth the bloodshed. You’d only have to heal the ungrateful boar afterwards.” She sniffed.

I didn’t correct her. It had been weeks since my healing magic had actually worked.

“Exactly.” I tried on another tight smile and stuffed down the horrifying sensation of something trying to slither out of my skin.

Like a monster of the deep, it watched and waited, lurking just below the surface.

Refusing to fit back in its cage.