The Demon King of Lust

Chapter 32

We pull up to an old, beaten-down warehouse on the outskirts of town. The walls are brick and have clearly been painted over many times, with the current color a vermillion red that seems out of place against its surroundings. Large swaths of paint have fallen off the sides, revealing the shades of grey and white that the building had been at one time or another. The building sits a few miles from the coast, bordered by overgrown grass, rickety heaps of weather-worn wood pallets, and industrial scraps. Remnants of old railroad tracks run alongside it, but I doubt they've been in use for decades.

Kieran kills the engine on his truck and parks outside, pulling the parking brake with an unholy shriek.

"You know cars aren't supposed to make those sounds, right?" I tease.

"My truck doesn't ascribe to your beauty standards," he says with a smirk.

He opens his door and hops out, closing it with a thunk. He appears rapidly on my side of the car, pulling the door open and offering me a hand down. I take his hand and jump down from the truck, my feet hitting the dirt with a thud. He keeps my palm in his, wrapping his fingers around mine as he leads me toward the building.

I'm wearing one of my favorite workout outfits—a pair of high-waisted black leggings and a tight, cropped tank in a vibrant candy-apple red. I'm not sure how much power-testing is like going to the gym, but I'm assuming it's close.

"So what exactly is this place?" I ask.

"It used to be a grain mill, but it's been a lot of different things. Before it shut down last year, it was an auto shop. Now, it's your Empath training center." He guides me through a wide break in the chainlink fencing and around to a side entrance.

"And you know about this spot how?"

"I used to come here to get my car fixed."

I laugh and shake my head.

"I'm beginning to understand why your car is in such bad shape," I say with a chuckle.

"Ouch. You're so mean to my truck."

"Sorry, but that thing is a death trap on wheels. The engine sounds like there's a squirrel living in it."

"You're lucky you're so fucking hot," he says. "'Cause I don't let anyone talk about my baby like that."

We approach the door and I notice it's bolted shut with a large metal lock.

"How are we going to get in?"

He releases my hand and steps up to the door, then sends a heavy kick through the lock. The wood splinters with a loud crack and the lock clangs as it falls to the ground.

I probably shouldn't find that as hot as I do.

"M'lady," he says, pushing open the door and gesturing inside.

We step into a dark, open warehouse with rusted yellow beams. Kieran peels a sheet of plywood off a nearby window; it cracks where it's boarded to the frame. He makes quick work of a few more, letting in light and illuminating columns of dusty air.

There's a stack of tires in the corner, old car parts scattered through the space, and a couple of empty gas canisters lined up against a wall.

I stand in the center of the room and look around. It feels like the kind of place someone plans a heist in. Or maybe the location of some cool underground rave.

Kieran sets down the last sheet of plywood and walks over, stopping about 15 feet in front of me.

"So what now?" I ask. "How are we doing this? Do I just, like... think at you or something?"