Page 4 of Tempting Azagoth (Angelic Shorts #1)

PREDATORS

AZAGOTH

S he was a lost little lamb, bundling into her jacket while oblivious to Azagoth’s presence. Tension and fear radiated off her in a heady mixture as she’d counted the money. He couldn’t keep the brightening glow of his eyes hidden or the scrape of his claws along the cheap plastic of the dining table as he’d tried to rein himself under control. So, he’d hidden himself from view, going incorporeal. Her shock and panic tickled him when she noticed his absence, as did her jerky movements out the door.

He’d learned during his wait that she was definitely a child born into a covenant. Satan’s Chosen—the formerly rebranded Children of the Dawn—birthed the lamb he trailed behind as she speed walked to the bus stop. As he’d expected, she was ignorant of the supernatural, or what that symbol on her wrist truly meant.

They mark themselves and know not what they do .

Only prey got branded.

A lamb wandering far from her herd, that’s what she was. And the quietness of her mind, despite the fear heating her blood, lulled him, tempted him to keep following. He didn’t know what gripped him, but he couldn’t let prey just get away when hunger dug sharp knives into him.

He needed food, something to play with so he could gulp down their delicious emotions, spurring them into madness. Then he’d rake claws through them, ending their life after they’d satiated his nonphysical needs. Their tender flesh would dull the hunger of his physical needs.

But where would that leave me? I haven’t encountered a calm like hers in a while, if ever .

Movement flickered in his periphery, halting his hushed footsteps, not that Honore—per her nametag—could hear him. He liked Delilah better, overheard it while rummaging in her mind. Oddly, she’d felt it each time his consciousness brushed hers. She thought he’d stared at her, that his eyes had been the source of the tingle she’d felt throughout her entire body.

Interesting little lamb, who’s caught the eye of other predators.

The three men from earlier separated from the shadows, their eyes focused on Delilah, who hadn’t spotted them yet.

Oh, this will be fun. The lamb lives and the wolf eats the coyotes.

DELILAH

I don’t think I’m alone.

That thought rebounded through her mind, bouncing around like a dodgeball.

Darkness shrouded everything except for the small pockets illuminated by street lamps. Only Tevin’s car remained in the parking lot as she walked to the bus stop just a few feet from the diner .

No matter how many times she glanced around, she couldn’t pinpoint the source of her unease. She could blame it on the stranger’s disappearance, but if he’d left then, unless he was invisible, no one followed her. Not even the sound of footfalls teased her ears, and she kept them straining against the quiet.

Satan preserve me.

She didn’t know why she still prayed to Him. One of the psychologists she’d visited warned her it would be hard to undo years of brainwashing done at the hands of a cult. But it hadn’t felt like one. It’d felt familiar and safe, like a family should. Like a community that cared for each other.

Until her father selected her as his bride. He could’ve had his pick of any of the women.

Why me?

She still asked herself that after all these months, but no one ever gave an answer she liked.

“Incest is common among cults,” one doctor said.

“People do crazy shit for power,” a police officer said.

“Because you were young and ripe for plucking,” another officer remarked, causing her skin to tighten with discomfort. She’d steered clear of him after that comment.

She paused, slowly swinging her head to the left when she’d felt eyes—honest to Satan's eyes—on her. Fear surged beneath her skin and she didn’t waste a moment to think . She ran, ignoring the laughter and hoots chasing her. Their footsteps pounded into concrete and her muscles trembled out of weakness. She didn’t eat enough. They’ll catch her. She knew it with a certainty she couldn’t explain, gasping as her foot tripped on air and she tumbled to the ground.

She was right. Tears stung her eyes just as concrete abraded her palms as she shuffled into a crawl. Their footsteps pounded closer before coming to a halt.

What?

Unable to stand not knowing what they were planning, she flipped over, crab walking backwards. All three men stared at her, their eyes unfocused. A shadow flickered in the space between the second and third man. She swore she saw the barest hint of gold light right before one of them began screaming, slapping at his arms.

Confusion battled the fear, forcing it into submission while she watched wide-eyed as the second and third man emulated the first.

They screamed, ripping their coats and jackets off. She couldn’t see anything on them or anything wrong with their skin. But her mouth wouldn’t open to tell them that. It remained parted in shock as one dug out a pocket knife and dragged it along the inside of his forearms, incoherent mumbles tumbling past his lips, too low to carry.

Blood dripped in a steady stream, pooling beneath his feet. One of the other men clawed at his face, raking his nails down until the skin split, blood oozing between the cuts. The third wrenched a whimper from her as he banged his head on the concrete, blood trailing down his face, his nose tilted at an unnatural angle.

Oh, Satan, this is too much .

Silent tears leaked from her eyes at the spectacle before her. It was madness!

“Your tears are wasted on them,” a voice growled near her ear. She gasped, jerking her face to the right and nearly colliding with the golden-eyed stranger.

“I’m Azagoth, little lamb. And you’re mine so don’t waste this,” his thumb brushed a tear, and she flinched at the soft touch, “on them.” He brought the thumb to his lips, sucking it into his mouth and groaning around the digit. She gaped, her eyes widening even further.

This can’t be real .

Those eyes of his brightened and his lips stretched into a smile, flashing a set of double fangs. Her eyes rolled up from the sight and darkness rushed toward her. The last thing she heard was a sadistic laughter booming into the night, sounding like it came from over a hundred different directions.