Page 11 of Doomed By a Demon

Wetness drips down the side of my belly. “Oh, I did, princess.” I look down to find him rubbing his come into my skin. It’s light purple with a shimmer to it that reminds me of the body glitter I used to apply to my face and neck before middle school dances.

He presses his index finger against my lips. “Open.” When I do, he presses it inside and says, “Suck.”

When the flavor hits my tastebuds, I lap at his finger from base to tip, trying to swallow every last drop. “Tastes like candy corn, but sweeter.”

“I knew you’d like it,” he says with a chuckle before pulling me back down into his embrace. He strokes my hair as I play with the green fuzz on his chest and trace the intricate lines of his neck tattoo.

Normally I’d pass out after sex, but despite the looseness of my muscles, I’m wide awake. I lay there, breathing in the clean scent of his skin as I think about how well Arthur seems to know me and wonder what else he remembers. “Who was my childhood crush?”

I feel him smile against my scalp. “Fictional, or real life?”

“Fictional.”

“The one you tell people or the one you’re worried people will judge you for?”

I snicker. “The one I think people will judge me for.”

“Ghostface.”

Shocked, I lift my head to give him a sharp glare. “Unbelievable.”

He shrugs. “What? You thought I’d guess incorrectly? Haven’t I proven myself to be a Fiona expert?”

I’m too stunned and suddenly shy to respond, so I bury my head against his shoulder as the blood rushes to my cheeks.

“I never understood why you kept that crush a secret. It made sense to me. That low voice, the air of mystery around him, and his attentiveness? Let’s be honest, no one is more enthusiastic about talking to you on the phone than he is.”

A laugh shakes my shoulders at his dry sense of humor. “Excellent point. Though the stabbing fetish would certainly get in the way.”

He hugs me tighter. “I’d never let him bring that blade within a mile of you.”

Somehow, despite only having known him for a few hours, I believe him. But there’s so much more to learn. “What does being a defender entail?” I ask, propping myself up on my elbow so I can face him. “Am I sucking up all your free time by almost walking into deadly scenarios without knowing, or do you get to take a break from babysitting me every once in a while?”

“It’s not like that. You’re a brilliant woman who got most of her reckless energy out in her early twenties. You’re a breeze to defend now.”

Oh god. I shudder at the thought of the many blackout-drunk nights from back then. At forty, after two beers or glasses of wine, I’m out like a light before ten. I’m glad those sloppy days are behind me. I’m lucky nothing happened to me back then. Or, I guess, my luck is entirely due to Arthur.

“How many brushes with death have you had to save me from?”

“Hm,” he says, pinches his eyes closed as he ponders. “Only one.”

“One?” Is it too few or too many? I suppose it doesn’t matter. Either way, it’s an eerie thing to learn.

“The summer before your senior year in college, you were at a party and a bunch of people were leaving to go to the nearest diner for midnight breakfast. At the last minute, you decided to stay at the party, because you and Josh were taking a break and you wanted a night of debauchery with just your girlfriends. Do you remember that?”

“Yikes, I barely remember the break Josh and I were on. Nothing else rings a bell.”

“One of the drivers was a kid you didn’t really know. His car was filled with his friends, who all attended a different school. Immediately after they left the diner, it started to rain, and the car hydroplaned, skidding off the road and down an embankment. Three of the four people in the car were killed.”

The breath lodges in my throat.

“If I hadn’t whispered Girls’ night! in your ear as the group was heading out, you might’ve been in that car.”

“Holy shit.” I guess there are a lot of what-ifs during nights like that. As kids we were idiots, convinced we were immortal. It’s a miracle I only sidestepped death once. “How else have you protected me?”

He scratches his chin, and I notice the slightest bit of green stubble. Adorable.

“Mostly vengeance,” he replies casually. As if the weather is our current topic of conversation. “When someone treats you poorly, I make sure they understand the consequences for repeated bad behavior will be severe and painful.”