The Demonslayer (Seven Sins MC 4)

“A sigil,” Minos repeated.

This time, when I pulled against his hold, he let me. I moved to a seated position, but stayed at his side.

One of his wings stayed protectively around my back, the other rested gently on my thigh.

“Yeah, a sigil. Made of sticks and twine.”

“If I got you some paper, could you draw it?” Minos asked.

“Are you a sigil expert?” I asked.

“No. But the guy whose house we are staying in right now is.”

It was right then that I became aware of the room we were staying in. It was a large space with the king-sized bed we were on. The walls were a dark gray that matched the bedding. The wall across from the bed had an assortment of art on it of every different style. And the big window to the side had some sort of dark tint on it.

“Where are we?”

“Arick’s place.”

“Arick,” I repeated, brows pinching for a second before the name rang a bell. “The warlock?”

“That’s the one.”

No wonder he said he was a sigil expert. Arick wasn’t just any warlock. He was a high warlock. There was almost no one in the country as naturally gifted and as highly trained as he was.

The Academy wasn’t overly nervous about any of the various supernatural beings in the world.

But a warlock like Arick gave them pause.

We’d researched him as well as we could, but stayed far away from him and his business.

Because while it was never expressly stated, I think we all knew that while not many demons could take us down, one mildly irritated high warlock could with just a flick of his damned uber-magical wrist.

“Relax,” Minos said, his wing on my leg doing an almost stroking motion. “He’s a friend. Do you remember the sigil?” he pressed.

“I, ah, yeah. I think I could get the gist of it right.”

“Okay. We’ll do that in a couple minutes,” he said.

“We need to do it now. We need to figure out why he was—“

“No, I don’t think we need to do that,” Minos said as his hands reached for me, settling me to straddle his lap.

The sizzle of anticipation moved through me even before I felt his cock pressing against his pants.

“Minos…”

I had to at least pretend to object, right? Especially when so many things were left unanswered and unfinished.

“You called for me in your sleep,” he told me as his hands moved outward, parting the shirt I was wearing. A shirt that was not my own. Or his, for that matter. It must have belonged to Arick. And Minos must have undressed me to tend to my wounds before putting me in a simple black button-down shirt.

“I…” I had no rebuttal to that. I hadn’t been conscious of it, of course, but it wasn’t entirely crazy. Especially given that he’d just saved my life.

I hadn’t been super aware of the whole fight. I was pretty sure I was blacking in and out of consciousness on the ground. But I’d seen him swoop in. I’d seen him tear the demon’s throat out.

For me.

He’d done that for me.

He’d come running for me.

And then he’d not only slain the demon, but took care of me afterward.

“What’s this?” Minos asked, looking a little stricken when a tear slipped down my cheek.

I couldn’t help it.

I was almost overwhelmed by the realization of what I’d been denying for a long time now.

That I wasn’t disgusted or repulsed by Minos. Or ashamed at being with him, for craving him. That I’d just been telling myself that because of my job, because of what they would think or say about it.

Those same people who, by the large, wouldn’t give a shit if I was hurt. They wouldn’t tend to me or try to soothe over my guilt.

They would have told me to get back on the job as quickly as possible.

They didn’t—aside from Gideon—care about me as a human being with my own thoughts and feelings.

I’d always been aware of the feeling of being very isolated and on my own.

But I don’t think I ever fully processed just how lonely I was, just how unhappy.

Until, suddenly, there was someone there. Someone who would come running when they knew I needed them. Someone who would swoop me up, and put their whole life on hold to take care of me. Someone who had seen me at my meanest and most dismissive and ugly, but still wanted to be with me.

That was, well, that was a gift, wasn’t it?

And I couldn’t help but not feel unworthy of receiving it.

Especially from someone who I’d treated like shit for so long, someone I’d used when it was convenient for me, then ignored completely.

“Baby…” Minos said, reaching up toward my face to wipe the tear from my cheek.

“I’ve been so mean to you,” I blurted out, unable to keep the words in.