The Demonslayer (Seven Sins MC 4)

I was aware of it all in a blink.

Some guy around Dale’s age trying like hell to move, but it looked like he’d suffered some sort of catastrophic back injury.

There was a red-headed girl splayed several yards away, unmoving.

Then there was a demon. Red-skinned. Big.

But I barely even focused on him because then I became aware of who he was towering over.

The beaten and bloodied Dale.

I could barely recognize her, her face was so bloody, bruised, and swollen.

And that bastard had done it to her.

With a roar that I didn’t even realize I was capable of, I charged forward, grabbing the giant bastard, and dragging him away from Dale.

I could see the surprise and confusion in his hideous face as he found himself looking not at another demonslayer, or even one of the kids, but someone much more like himself.

“Who…” he started.

“You’ll regret every mark on her body,” I snarled before charging forward.

The beast in me took over then.

It was pure, undiluted rage, the likes of which I wasn’t sure I’d ever truly experienced.

It burned like acid through my system, consuming any part of me that held onto something even resembling humanity. Or even rationality.

Even self-preseveration was out the window as I pounded my fists into him, as my head whipped into him, as the taste of blood filled my mouth, making me realize I’d bit off the nub he called an ear.

His howl of pain sent a renewed sense of purpose through me, even as I was aware of Dale’s soft crying just a few feet away.

“They’re the enemy, you fool,” the demon growled as he ducked to avoid another fist to the face.

“She’s mine,” I growled back, charging at him again with renewed rage, my talons slashing out, making ribbons of the mug he called a face.

His howls only spurred me on, the beast in me determined to make him pay for what he’d done to Dale.

My one arm shot out, grabbing his skull to hold it in place while the talon on my thumb slipped into his eye socket and plucked out his eyeball.

“Christ,” the man with the busted back hissed when I peeled back the demon’s lips and shoved the eyeball inside.

Hearing more whimpers from Dale, some part of me realized I needed to finish the job. That it was just as important to take care of her as it was to make the bastard who hurt her pay.

My hand shot out again, this time grabbing him around his esophagus, digging in, then ripping the entire fucking thing out, tossing it to the ground, then watching as what little life was left in him slip away before his body crashed down on the ground.

Shaking my head, I fought some of the beast back, focusing past the rage, and leaning into the softer, warmer sensation I felt toward Dale.

Even as I thought her name, my gaze shot in her direction, finding her half on her side, curled into herself, her entire body racked with sobs.

“Hey!” the man yelled as I made my way toward Dale, and dropped down behind her back. “Get the fuck away from her!” he added.

When I glanced up, he was making a valiant effort to try to move, to try to help defend Dale from what he saw as a threat.

“She’s mine,” I hissed through gritted teeth and fangs.

“The fuck she is, hellspawn,” he ground out as he managed to get one foot under his body.

The second he put his weight on it, he was going to collapse. Sure, demonslayers healed quickly. But not that quickly. If he had a couple hours, he might be able to stand. But it would be a fucking misery.

You had to give the man props for trying, though. Even if the sweat was pouring and he looked white as a ghost from the pain.

“Mine,” I repeated, feeling my wings shoot out and reach toward her even as my arms did the same.

I tried to be gentle.

But she was hurt everywhere.

The second my hands touched her, she started to cry out.

My chest felt like someone was cracking it open as I slid my arms under her legs and shoulders, picking her up, and cradling her to my chest.

My wings went tightly around her as my gaze once again slid to the man.

“She’s mine,” I repeated again.

“Don’t hurt her,” he demanded, recognizing he had no shot of intervening even if he thought I might try to do just that.

“I don’t hurt her,” I said, cradling her tighter. “She hurts me,” I added.

Then, before I said anything else completely asinine, I turned and ran off.

My mind raced as I made our way through the woods.

I couldn’t take her home.

If her demonslayer friend figured out who I was, he might send his buddies to the house. I didn’t want to get my brothers mixed up in my mess.