Confessions of a Demon by S. L. Wright Read Free Book Online

woman. But the one time when Savor had asked her out—to my shocked annoyance—I’d been relieved when she had laughed it off as a joke.
     
I barely waited until he was gone, unable to contain myself. “Lolita, don’t encourage him. You can’t trust him.”
     
“You say that, but you never say why. I like Sebastian. If he asks me out again, I’m going to go.”
     
“Lo, you shouldn’t go near him. He’s a wily, slimy little bastard.”
     
She considered it, as she considered everything. “I . . . don’t think so. I think he’s sweet. And a little lonely.”
     
It was true that Lo’s intuition was almost as good as a demon’s. I didn’t know anyone who was better at assessing people so quickly.
     
But I couldn’t begin to tell her the truth about how wrong she was about dating a demon. If she had sex with him, he could accidentally suck off too much of her emotion and leave her a slobbering mess. Was I going to have to get tough with Savor? If I had to, I would. I would do whatever it took to keep him away from my people.
     
     

 
     
     
    3
     
     
I was completely frazzled by the prospect of Lo dating Savor. It ruined whatever enjoyment I had left in the demon energy I had stolen from Petrify.
     
Forget that Savor was just using Lo to get to me—there was no such thing as love when it came to demons and humans. How could there be love when everything was a lie?
     
Nobody knew me, so I was lonely in spite of the people I surrounded myself with. I wanted a partner to share things with, to struggle with, to learn and grow with.
     
But it was impossible.
     
So having Savor come around here and seduce my bartender was too much for me to handle. It pushed my buttons in a very personal way.
     
I washed the glasses roughly, thinking of what I could say or do to Savor that would make him back off.
     
I was so distracted and my senses were so overwhelmed by Shock’s buzzing signature overhead that I didn’t feel Pique approaching until he was very close. He was brand-new, and had been around only a few weeks, but already I hated Pique’s irritating signature—a grating, grinding sensation in my bones that rubbed me raw. It was even worse than his unwashed smell.
     
Last weekend Pique had targeted a green kid from Iowa who came to the Den. When his friends left as he unsuccessfully tried to pick up a girl, he had to walk home alone. I left the bar to Lolita’s care and followed them. I didn’t like the guy, who was too frat-boy privileged for his own good, but he’d been drinking at my bar, so he was my responsibility.
     
I had to provoke Pique to get him off the kid, and he’d taken the lure and chased after me, leaving his victim woozy but undamaged by his assault. Pique would have sucked him dry and left him for dead if I hadn’t stopped him.
     
Pique had chased me through the city that night, catching my trail after I lost him again and again. I finally jumped on a subway train heading south and managed to fool him into getting onto a different train. Our eyes had met as my train pulled out, leaving him behind, and I knew he hadn’t given up the chase.
     
As I hurried over to the window, Pique appeared around the corner across the avenue heading uptown. A line of traffic passed between us; then I saw him again in the shadows, leaning against the metal shutter rolled down over the front of the hairdresser’s across the street. He stared intently back at me.
     
He must have felt Petrify’s birth. I shouldn’t have been surprised that he, a born vulture, was the first to arrive, sniffing after fresh meat. Pique looked innocuous enough; too puffy, too pale, with a round, doughy face and an old-fashioned haircut. Behind thick-lensed glasses, he sniveled as if from allergies, and his long shorts hung awkwardly from his hips. His sneakers were huge.
     
Pique might look like a harmless computer geek to everyone else, but I’d seen the truth when he came after me. He was so frenzied that