The Sacrifice

Was I in that kind of danger?

If I was, why did the idea send a thrill through me?

Ly moved through his room, grabbing something out of a dresser, then going into the bathroom.

I heard the water turn on, then off a few moments later before he appeared, this time wearing only a pair of loose black cotton pants slung low on his hips, putting the rest of his body on display.

Again, I'd seen pictures and statues. But there was something about the flesh itself that was more appealing. The way his muscles moved under the skin as he walked, the artwork he'd had tattooed into his skin.

"What are you doing?" I heard myself ask as he moved to the other side of the bed.

"Going to sleep," he told me, getting into the bed, rolling onto his back, staring up at the ceiling.

I couldn't think of what to say to that. His temper seemed short-fused. If I asked why he didn't bring me back to the basement, he might get set off.

And if his intentions were simply to go to sleep, there was no harm done there, was there?

This bed was preferable to the one in the basement, especially now that the basement bed was broken. And was more than large enough for both of us to sleep without ever so much as brushing shoulders.

So I rolled onto my side away from him, curled my legs into my chest, and closed my eyes.

But sleep refused to come.

I was too aware of him just a few feet away from me. Despite the space, I could feel the heat of him. It warmed my back in a way that shouldn't have been comforting, since his warmth came from the fiery pits of hell. Yet that was exactly what it was. Comforting. In this cold and drafty house, to feel so much warmth, like falling asleep in front of a winter fire, the heat tingled across your skin, burrowed inside, warmed you to your core.

"Fucking hell," Ly growled some indeterminate time later, making me jump, a little squeak escaping between my lips.

"What?" I asked, pulling the front of my cape closed before I turned to look over at him. There wasn't much light in the room, but his eyes seemed to catch what little there was, glowing redder in the dark.

"How am I supposed to sleep with your stomach growling like that?" he demanded, sounding genuinely angry about it.

"How am I supposed to make it stop growling if I haven't been fed?" I shot back.

My body had never become accustomed to hunger. Our coven participated in fasts for certain rituals, but while others seemed to effortlessly get through the long days of emptiness with ease, I was always tormented by the grumbling of my stomach, the stabbing hunger pangs.

"Fucking witches," he snapped, getting out of bed, moving across the room in the dark, and flicking on the light. "Come on then," he demanded as he opened the door.

I didn't stop to think.

I hopped off the bed and followed behind.

I wasn't going to turn down food if I could get it. Who knew when they would feed me again?

If these demons were willing to show me any sort of kindness, I had to be humble enough to accept it graciously.

It was against their nature, after all.Chapter FourLycusI wasn't known for my self-control.

That wasn't how we were built.

Self-control wasn't a virtue in our world.

In fact, the utter lack of it was much more desirable.

Why I was showing so much to the fucking witch was beyond me.

I wanted to slip my fingers in her waiting pussy in that tub.

And then I walked back into my room after punishing myself in the gym, to find her passed out on the floor with her fucking cloak open, exposing damn near every desirable part of her body to my hungry gaze.

I wanted to pull out my cock, get down on the floor, yank her legs up onto my thighs, and slam inside her.

Mingled with that desire was something else.

A certain level of, I don't know, concern, for the fact that she was asleep on the cold, hard floor.

I didn't do concern.

I actually didn't even recognize it for what it was at first. Which was why I had yelled at her, had grabbed at her, had tossed her onto the bed.

But as I lay there in the dark, wanting to sleep, my mind was flopping around, going over the reaction to finding her there. Which was when I finally saw my emotions for what they were.

Concern.

Maybe even care?

I cared?

That didn't seem like me, but it was also undeniable.

Because when her stomach started growling, I might have snapped at her again, but what was inside was concern over the last time she had a full meal, that she was uncomfortable, that she wasn't getting the nutrients she needed.