Slaughter Daughter by Eve Langlais
39
Having spent years studying death,I knew how to cut in a way that took Braedon out and didn’t make him suffer. I didn’t have a choice. I already knew he was dead. The way they cleaned that crime scene, the secret they had to keep? They weren’t about to let a non-demon, a human, destroy them.
Braedon had to go. It seemed only right that I take him out since I had drawn him into this mess.
The body hadn’t even hit the floor when I felt myself lifted and spun in Jag’s arms. He crushed his mouth to mine. Fiercely. Possessively.
“Are you okay? You didn’t have to do that. I would have handled him,” Jag exclaimed.
Yes, he would have, and he would always have wondered where my loyalty lay. I was a half-demon in love with a demon. It explained my fascination with death. And now that I’d finally killed, I could feel it inside me, coursing through my veins: power and ecstasy.
It bubbled up in me, escaping as laughter. “What’s happening to me?” I asked.
“Magic, buttercup. It would seem you’re more demon than anyone knew.”
And then his mouth was back on mine. But not for long, as Kalinda returned, hissing and cursing melodically. “Would you two save it for later? We need to get out of here. Cashien’s coming back for the body.”
That of the man I’d killed. I shoved aside the guilt as I ran off with my demon lover.
As we sat in the back seat—meaning the terrifying Kalinda was behind the wheel of her Jeep—I couldn’t help but worry. “The campus cameras will have caught everything. I’m going to jail.”
Look at my cold ass, worried about being arrested and not the man now dead by my hand.
Jag’s palm came to rest on my thigh. He squeezed my leg, and that easily, I knew I would do it again. He leaned close. “Don’t worry. Cashien and the others will fix it.”
“How can I help?”
Apparently, by staying out of the way and being sent to bed with Jag just in case I needed an alibi.
Entering my room, I began to pace. “This is bad.”
“We’re fine.” Jag flopped onto the mattress, hands tucked behind his head.
“We are not fine.”
“I know something that will make you feel better.” He winked and patted the comforter.
I made a face. “Really?”
He just nodded. Slowly. And then smiled. When he peeled off his shirt, I lost the battle.
I joined him, partially undressed but with his hands skimming over flesh. Soon, we were skin to skin.
We kissed. Hungry. Needy.
I clung to him as he sank into me, gasped as he filled me perfectly. I rode him, undulating against him as he thrust into me, our lips meshed, along with our hearts and breaths.
When I came, I let myself be swept away, up and out of my body, to a place where hot and cold became one.
My naked limbs twined with his, the glow of sex still surrounding me, I trailed my fingers over his chest. “What’s next? Shouldn’t we be packing?”
“I’d rather sleep with you. Let’s figure shit out in the morning.”
When I proved a little too energetic for slumber, he made love to me a second time. Then a third, until I finally drowsed beside him.
By the time I woke the next day, the front page of the paper had the story. And it was a good one.
Copycat Killer Taken Out by Her Victim.
It appeared an unidentified woman had been found, dead of a bullet wound to the head. The police claimed that her death was a last-ditch effort escape by the man she’d sacrificed. He’d pulled a gun and shot her moments before dying in the pentagram she’d drawn.
In a shocking twist, DNA evidence tied her to a few more crime scenes across the country. The Pentagram Killer had been caught. My parents’ names were cleared, along with mine.
I was finally free.
