Jegudiel (Deadly Virtues 2)

Diel drew to a stop outside the bedroom, and his chest heaved in excitement. He was going to get more kills. More bodies. More screams.

His cock twitched, and Diel threw open the door so hard it slammed against the wall behind it. The monster scanned the room and saw two figures dressed in black, hoods and scarves covering their heads and faces. One of them was on the bed, tying the hands of the priest who was watching him with wide, terrified eyes. One of the people in black leather pants and shirt rushed at him, something in their hand. Diel charged at the moving figure and shouldered them into the wall. The person was light, and he easily knocked the wind from them as they crumpled to the ground, knocked out cold.

Diel went to pull out his knives, and the one from the bed rolled off the mattress, rounded the footboard and faced him. Diel met the eyes staring back at him. Brown eyes with long black lashes. His monster roared in excitement, the cry from the priest on the bed only heightening it. The black-hooded figure pulled a knife from a holster at their waist.

Diel paced back and forth as he stared at the smaller figure in front of him. They were foolish to believe they could take him. He had four deaths under his belt tonight, and he was driven by the need to kill even more. As the person moved to attack, Diel ran at them full force. He held out his hand and wrapped it around their neck. The hooded stranger choked on an exhale as he slammed them against the wall. They dropped the knife, but this one didn’t crumple like the one behind him had.

They slammed their arm over his, tearing themselves from his hold. They spun out of his grip, but Diel spun too. The hooded figure lashed out and drove their fist into Diel’s mouth, then landed a quick but strong kick to his thigh.

He felt his lip burst and his knee weaken, but the pain and the warm liquid running down his chin only made his cock harden more, nearly coming at the violence and scent of death building in the air. This fucker thought they could best him.

The monster smiled, and a manic laugh slipped from Diel’s throat. The stranger before him stilled for a second, before crouching low and taking another knife from their holster. Diel walked around them, toying with this victim, relishing the savage foreplay, their slow dance to a bloody death.

Then the hooded rival spun, turning in to his chest, and sliced the knife over his shirt. Diel looked down; the fabric of his shirt was ripped in two, his Fallen brand instantly on show. The skin on his torso had been sliced open, but not deep enough to do any damage—he wouldn’t have cared if it had. The monster’s grin didn’t fall. Instead, Diel’s excitement doubled as he ripped the shirt from his chest and dropped it to the floor. The still-wet blood from his previous kills had stained his chest, but his black brand was still prominent.

Diel heard the priest struggling on the bed. Diel remembered that piece of shit on the now soiled mattress who was staring at him with wide eyes. He remembered his ugly face from the torture room in Purgatory. He’d pulled Diel’s rack lever once. Diel couldn’t wait to dislocate his shoulders in revenge.

The hooded person in front of him stilled, eyes locked on his chest. Diel reached forward and grabbed them by the hood, slamming their head into the wall. The person dropped to the floor at the impact, and the hood fell from their head, revealing a riot of pale pink hair. The scarf dropped from their face, and Diel froze at the sight of the face staring back at him, dark eyes dazed as they tried to focus on him.

She was female.

Diel heard the priest again, and, needing to feel someone’s hot, wet blood coating his skin, he climbed on the bed and took out one of his knives. Red mist took hold of his urges once more, and he began to stab. He stabbed and stabbed until he felt the spray of blood freckling his face, the hardness of bone shattering under the blade, until the priest lost any fight and became a slice of rotten meat beneath him. A creak on the floorboard behind him made him turn, and he saw the woman again. The one with the pink hair was on her feet, her wide, unreadable eyes locked on his. Her gaze dropped to his neck, and then the brand on his chest.

Diel leaped from the bed, ready for more. The monster paced inside him as it studied the woman. It snarled and hissed, but it wouldn’t look away from her.