The Demon King of Lust

Chapter 7

I left the bar shortly after everyone's hormones started going crazy, since Kieran said he needed to clean up. I wasn't exactly sure what had happened, but it seemed like he wasn't either.

But all day I found myself smiling and looking forward to going to bed tonight.

What am I even doing?

I take a deep breath and turn off the lights, staring at my blank ceiling.

I can't help but like Kieran, and I'd be lying if I said spending time with him wasn't the highlight of my day. But things always start out great before they fall apart. I used to feel this way when I first met Victor. He was sweet and attentive and seemed crazy about me. I pride myself on being a good judge of character, but I was totally clueless about him. I didn't know he was crazy-possessive or had anger issues, let alone that he was a literal demon.

I just can't trust my own judgment anymore.

The warm glow and foggy air tell me I've drifted off to sleep.

I sit up and see Kieran leaning casually against the doorframe.

"Hey," I say groggily.

"Hey to you too," he says, taking a few steps closer to me.

"Was everything okay at the bar?"

"You mean besides my completely shattered focus?" He chuckles, puts his hands in his pocket, and shrugs. "It was fine. Turns out it didn't last once I stopped being tortured by a devious redhead."

I laugh and pull my hair behind my ears.

"What can I say? Payback's a bitch."

"Yeah, probably did have that coming."

"I didn't realize that would affect your powers, though. Is that what usually happens?"

"When I get turned on? No, that one was a first. But I'm still working out what my powers are and how to control them."

"You've said that before. How long have you had your powers?"

"About six months."

"What are they?" I ask. "And don't say you have supernatural seduction powers again. I'm onto you now."

He laughs, walking over to the bed and sitting down at its foot.

"Well, I can control Incubi and Succubi now. They're like a demon army. Apparently the Kings call the demons their Legion. Like, how pompous is that? I've gotta come up with a better name for that—my posse? My crew? Eh, I'm still working on that one."

"The Clawed Squad?"

He laughs so hard it sounds like more of a cough.

"Love that," he says with a smile.

"What else can you do?"

"Well, I can make fire in my hands. Sometimes when I'm angry or frustrated, my hands get really hot, so I have to watch that one."

"Can I?" I ask, reaching out to touch his hand.

His brows raise slightly and he takes a deep breath in.

"Sure." He places his hand on the bed with the palm facing up. "It's probably normal right now."

I run my fingers across his palm. His skin is cold, but in a good way—like laying your cheek against a cool pillow.

"You feel cold, actually."

"Yeah." I mindlessly stroke his hand and he swallows hard. "I usually run cold, when I'm not burning everything I touch."