Dangerous Desires (Book 2)

Alastor

There are hundreds of places I'd rather be, others things I'd rather be doing. Ripping out my claws, gouging out my eyeballs, slitting my stomach and pulling out my intestines, collecting souls, anything but this.

"Are you sure you don't want to sit down? Be more comfortable?"

Ah, Charlie. Ever the gracious Demon Belle.

"No, my dear. I prefer standing." I grit out through a strained smile.

Months of not using my mouth for anything but chewing decaying tissue and snapping bones, smiling feels new and familiar at the same time. And after bathing with Angel, my smiles don't come as easily as they once did. Sure, in the presence of lesser halfwits in public, my smile remains sharp and menacing. But only Angel alone knows the difference. The slightest shift in muscle that has the corners of my mouth wavering.

Because Rosie wanted to meet at the 'Happy Hotel' after Angel called her on the thin metal atrocity, he insisted that we go. Saying his sister can continue to watch our child.

His tone, although excited, held a note of finality to it, leaving no room for argument. So, resigned to my unwanted fate, I snapped a fresh suit into existence, and allowed my dear Husband to drag me along to this endeavor.

Now, here we are. Angel and Charlie sitting on the sofa in the lounge, while Vagatha glares at me from where she stands next to the Princess, spear gripped tightly in her hands and aimed at me.

"Al, what did we discuss?" Angel scolds and I puff out a long-winded sigh. On the way over, I promised him I'd behave. A promise that becomes more and more tempting to break with each passing second as the bothersome moth's fingers twitch against the wooden shaft of her useless spear.

Do not tear her head off and take another bath in her blood. Don't establish dominance by peeling her skin off and wearing it like a coat.

That is what I tell myself. But the imagery it conjures, is awfully tempting.

"I am doing what you have asked of me, darling. To do so, I choose to remain standing as we wait for dear Rosie to arrive. Wouldn't want any unnecessary... harm, to come to this hotel or its staff." The thinly veiled threat hangs in the air between us like the oath of a dagger that craves first blood to carry out its promised carnage.

"Bullshit!" Vagatha yells, what little control she was holding onto, snapping in twine.

"Vaggie-" Charlie starts but Vagatha stomps her foot to cut her off.

"No! This asswipe has been against our project from the start. He never wanted to see us succeed. Sure, we mysteriously gained a few patrons here and there after he joined, but none of them stayed. The less interested Alastor became, the less patrons we brought in. It all went to shit as soon as he left the hotel with Angel. Our one patron that actually stuck around, gone, because what? He somehow knew The Radio Demon when he was alive? Whoopdie fucking doo! I know several people down here that I knew above, yet you don't see me getting chummy with them!"

"Hey, watch it." Angel growls from where he sits on the sofa, pink eyes glittering dangerously.

"Angel stays with me, because of the love and devotion we have for each other. Against all odds, we found each other in the afterlife. Our love flourishes every day. Tell me, can you say the same for your own partner?" It takes a firm grip on the hair thin thread of patience, to not summon my dark tendrils and plunk her into the void. Never to be seen again.

"How dare you!!! Charlie and I share a pure kind of love. A love you'll never know!"

"Ha! Of course not, dear. For if our love was pure, I wouldn't want it. It may be messy, exciting, thrilling, and exhausting, but it's ours. I do not want pure. I want absolute tragic and gory love. A love that demands a penance whenever a toe is stepped out of line."