Blood and Sin (The Infernari Book 1) by Laura Thalassa, Dan Rix Page A
Authors: Laura Thalassa, Dan Rix
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Brad—yet she hadn’t, and it bothered me. Demons might not be conniving, but they were vengeful. Always. Surely, she hated my kind as much as I hated hers.
So why hadn’t she?
She had every reason to slit my throat. I had sworn to exterminate her species.
She had chickened out. I knew then. I’d been able to sense the shame in her body language—she’d chickened out, and in so doing had doomed her entire race, and now she felt worthless, guilty, dejected. She’d given up.
I chewed on my lip, more bothered by that than I cared to admit. Every hour she seemed more and more human, and it messed with my head.
A scratching sound came from inside the bedroom, jerking me back to attention.
Later, Asher.
Right now, I was about to pump a demon full of lead. The scratching continued, moving around the room’s perimeter. I recalled the suite’s layout, trying to picture it. Like Brad said, the creature was sniffing out the entrance to the shelter, which it would find at the back of the closet.
But not if I killed it first.
Then, ever so faintly, came the telltale scrape of the sliding closet doors retracting. Gotcha.
I spun into the bedroom doorway and leveled the assault rifle at the closet, my finger ready to squeeze the trigger.
But the room was empty.
The closet, now open a crack, appeared abandoned. The fuck?
Heart pulsing like crazy, I strode inside it, sweeping the weapon to each of the corners. Nothing, nothing, nothing.
I crossed the room and pushed into the bathroom, and my reflection in the mirror nearly gave me a heart attack.
Empty.
Oh man, if there was a demon that could make itself invisible, I was going to shit myself.
A shadow flittered in my periphery.
I whipped around, just as a figure stepped into the doorway of the bedroom.
A man.
But no man.
His eyes glowed a dull crimson in the darkness, smoldering from within. He wore a black suit and tie which, like him, seemed to dissolve and reform around him like a swarm of insects.
Blocking the doorway, he’d cornered me in the master suite. A trap.
He’d laid a trap.
Before I could squeeze off a shot, the demon gripped the doorway, his fingers splintering the wood frame, and his mouth opened wider than any human jaw— aiming at me.
Crap. I dove behind the bed.
Fire roared from his mouth in a white-hot jet. In an instant, the room blazed in an inferno. Rippling heat rolled up the walls, the blankets caught fire and combusted, flames singed my hair. Making an ungodly screaming noise, the demon swept the stream of fire around the room, incinerating everything on contact.
Major affinity: fire breathing.
They wanted to burn me, like I burned them. As retribution.
The bed made a tiny bubble of shelter, but already flames licked around the edges, nipping at my extremities. I laid low, eyes watering from the heat, and I choked on a lungful of blistering ash.
Through tears, I risked a peek at the top of the bed, where the fire parted around me like a river of lava.
I had to reach up into that to shoot.
Nuh-uh, I’d lose my hand and the gun.
But I couldn’t do nothing. The whole room had turned into a furnace. I’d get roasted alive.
Already, the edges of the steel bed frame were beginning to glow. My skin tightened and began to prickle, then sting.
He had to run out of breath eventually. I just need one shot . . .
Yet his flamethrower mouth continued to spew fire.
This was magic. With seven billion humans on Earth, and five liters of blood apiece to cull from, demons had a near infinite supply. And this demon, he appeared to have stocked up before he paid a visit.
My gaze darted to the window behind me, my only escape. To get to it I’d have to walk through fire.
Cornered like a rat.
No, I refused to die in my own house.
Lightheaded from the smoke, I locked my fingers under the bed frame—hot to the touch—and gave a mighty heave. The bed lifted, deflecting the fire over my head. Grunting, I drove my shoulder against the
So why hadn’t she?
She had every reason to slit my throat. I had sworn to exterminate her species.
She had chickened out. I knew then. I’d been able to sense the shame in her body language—she’d chickened out, and in so doing had doomed her entire race, and now she felt worthless, guilty, dejected. She’d given up.
I chewed on my lip, more bothered by that than I cared to admit. Every hour she seemed more and more human, and it messed with my head.
A scratching sound came from inside the bedroom, jerking me back to attention.
Later, Asher.
Right now, I was about to pump a demon full of lead. The scratching continued, moving around the room’s perimeter. I recalled the suite’s layout, trying to picture it. Like Brad said, the creature was sniffing out the entrance to the shelter, which it would find at the back of the closet.
But not if I killed it first.
Then, ever so faintly, came the telltale scrape of the sliding closet doors retracting. Gotcha.
I spun into the bedroom doorway and leveled the assault rifle at the closet, my finger ready to squeeze the trigger.
But the room was empty.
The closet, now open a crack, appeared abandoned. The fuck?
Heart pulsing like crazy, I strode inside it, sweeping the weapon to each of the corners. Nothing, nothing, nothing.
I crossed the room and pushed into the bathroom, and my reflection in the mirror nearly gave me a heart attack.
Empty.
Oh man, if there was a demon that could make itself invisible, I was going to shit myself.
A shadow flittered in my periphery.
I whipped around, just as a figure stepped into the doorway of the bedroom.
A man.
But no man.
His eyes glowed a dull crimson in the darkness, smoldering from within. He wore a black suit and tie which, like him, seemed to dissolve and reform around him like a swarm of insects.
Blocking the doorway, he’d cornered me in the master suite. A trap.
He’d laid a trap.
Before I could squeeze off a shot, the demon gripped the doorway, his fingers splintering the wood frame, and his mouth opened wider than any human jaw— aiming at me.
Crap. I dove behind the bed.
Fire roared from his mouth in a white-hot jet. In an instant, the room blazed in an inferno. Rippling heat rolled up the walls, the blankets caught fire and combusted, flames singed my hair. Making an ungodly screaming noise, the demon swept the stream of fire around the room, incinerating everything on contact.
Major affinity: fire breathing.
They wanted to burn me, like I burned them. As retribution.
The bed made a tiny bubble of shelter, but already flames licked around the edges, nipping at my extremities. I laid low, eyes watering from the heat, and I choked on a lungful of blistering ash.
Through tears, I risked a peek at the top of the bed, where the fire parted around me like a river of lava.
I had to reach up into that to shoot.
Nuh-uh, I’d lose my hand and the gun.
But I couldn’t do nothing. The whole room had turned into a furnace. I’d get roasted alive.
Already, the edges of the steel bed frame were beginning to glow. My skin tightened and began to prickle, then sting.
He had to run out of breath eventually. I just need one shot . . .
Yet his flamethrower mouth continued to spew fire.
This was magic. With seven billion humans on Earth, and five liters of blood apiece to cull from, demons had a near infinite supply. And this demon, he appeared to have stocked up before he paid a visit.
My gaze darted to the window behind me, my only escape. To get to it I’d have to walk through fire.
Cornered like a rat.
No, I refused to die in my own house.
Lightheaded from the smoke, I locked my fingers under the bed frame—hot to the touch—and gave a mighty heave. The bed lifted, deflecting the fire over my head. Grunting, I drove my shoulder against the
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