Page 65

FURIE

The mortal realm is… fascinating. Humans have an overabundance of things. Stuff. Inventions. Mostly to cater to their own vices—laziness, gluttony, endless boredom. Honestly? Makes a demon like me feel right at home .

I grab a black sweater from a rack labeled fall essentials and yank it over my horns, grinning as the soft fabric brushes my skin. Say what you will about humans—they know comfort. Weak, loud, obsessive little creatures, but stars above, do they love a cozy fabric.

Striking a pose, I turn toward my brother, who’s doing what he always does—standing in the dark, statue-still, head tilted like he’s listening to some cosmic riddle only he can hear.

“What do you think? Can I pass for a human?” I do an obnoxious little twirl, waving my tail primly, as if I was doing a fashion show, or whatever humans do when new fashion trends are released. I watch human TV, I’ve seen it happen.

“You could,” he answers quietly, his voice disappearing into the night. I smirk, inspecting the other clothes adorning the racks, to see what else I could wear to complete my look. But then he goes and speaks again.

“If you weren’t a giant, walking red flag with horns, that is,” he finishes, making me chuckle.

I gasp, clutching my chest. “Was that... a joke ? Hell’s freezing over.”

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t smile. Not even a twitch. Just tilts his head again like the universe is whispering secrets. Classic.

I sigh, disappointment leaking even though I already knew he wouldn’t fall for it. He’s too accustomed to my special brand of humor, and he’s not one to give in to any emotional outbursts, the weight of the universe weighing heavily on his shoulders.

Like literally. The whole damned universe. Monster realms included.

I turn back to the clothing rack, plucking out a pair of white athletic shorts—the kind humans wear to chase balls or run in circles until they collapse. Why keep trying to achieve an impossible level of strength when death will claim you one way or another?

I shudder at the thought of Death, now knowing he’s extremely busy in the Gloom turning everything a ridiculous shade of pink. Gross.

The shorts are tight on me. Like, dangerously tight. My thick thighs stretch the fabric in a way that feels both obscene and supportive. Kind of like a hammock… for my cock.

Not terrible. It’ll do.

Only issue is my tail. I jab a finger through the back of the shorts, tearing a crude hole, and thread it through with a satisfied flick.

But then, a ripple in the air, a wave of consciousness, teases my senses and I inhale deeply.

I’m not the only one who notices either as my brother shifts his stance and I feel his power spreading out to locate the source of the sudden change.

I inhale again. Something rich, decadent, with an edge of danger reaches my nostrils and settles on my tongue, and makes my mouth water.

“What is that?” I ask, but my dark brother is already moving, silent as the night, and I follow.

A mutter, a soft sound of clothes shifting, and an almost silent snick of a blade, reaches my ears and makes a smile spread on my face.

Finally some excitement.

The air thickens with something downright delicious, and my nostrils flare, the taste of unrestrained anger too good to resist a taste.

“Fuck!”

A silver flash catches me off guard. I twist just in time to avoid being skewered by a blur of black fabric and fury. A human? No—something else. Something faster .

It hits me full force. I stagger, catching it instinctively as it slams into my chest like a missile. Another flash of silver glints in the air—right for my heart.

But my brother’s hand is already there, wrapped around a wrist.

The blade freezes inches from my chest.

The runes on it glow gold— ancient runes .

Demon script.

The sight of it wipes the grin off my face.

“Where did you get that?” I snarl, my grip tightening.

The voice that answers is not what I expect.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, demon .”

The hood falls back. Dark hair. Green eyes. Fire and hatred distilled into the shape of a girl. A human girl. Furious and fearless. And stars help me, the taste of her rage hits my tongue like the finest fucking mortal vintage.

I laugh— low, delighted . This one’s... different.

She glares, undeterred, shifting her hips in my grip—and instantly realizes the mistake. My cock twitches against her abdomen, eager to respond to her fury with equal ferocity.

Her eyes go wide. Her scent sharpens.

“Fucking let me go,” she snarls. “Or I’ll send you back to the deepest pits of hell.”

My grin stretches wider. I can’t help it. Her anger feeds me.

My brother still holds her wrist, now examining the blade. “She’s marked,” he murmurs. His fingers trail up her forearm, tracing the glowing runes etched into her skin. They glow in response, making her gasp.

“She’s from the Guild.”

The word means nothing to me.

“Guild?” I ask dumbly.

He ignores me. As he usually does.

The girl twists—strong, too strong—and delivers a brutal kick straight to my dick. I wheeze, staggering back. “Motherfu?—!”

Pain radiates through my spine like lightning.

She breaks free.

I’m still gasping when she slaps her hand against the glowing rune at her neck—and vanishes.

Gone. Just like that. And with her, the delicious scent of anger and defiance.

The air feels empty. Bland.

I glare at my brother, still bent over and holding my aching cock. “Thanks for the assist, fuckface .”

He raises a brow. A ghost of a smirk—not quite there, but close—curls at the edge of his mouth.

“Sometimes,” he murmurs, “a little pain is a good reminder.”

I straighten slowly, wincing. “Reminder of what?”

He looks toward the space where she disappeared. “That not everything can be devoured. Some things must be earned .”

Earned.

Fuck that.

But also... maybe .

If I can find her again.

And next time? She won’t get away so easily.

To be continued…