Page 8 of My Demon Charming

“That’s not what I meant,” I mutter. “Who-who are you?”

The man tips his head with a mouthwatering smirk and a hard knot forms in my throat.

“Lucian, demon of protection. At your service.”

“Lucian? Any relation to…to Lucifer?”

“If you mean your Christian Satan, then no. I am not he, nor does he exist. He’s a figment. A composite of creatures humans feared.”

“What?” I have no idea what he just said.

The man—Lucian—gives a dismissive shake of his head and crosses his arms.

I don’t miss how his muscles flex, stretching the fabric of his suit to the max.

“What did you call me for? An ex you’d like to make jealous? Your sex toy broke down? Or are you just bored of your hand?”

I flinch. “What?”

Why is he acting as if he’s here for sex?

“That’s what you called me for, isn’t it? You’re in need of a partner for the night?”

I look down at the summoning box. Did I order a sex kit by accident?

“I thou-I thought you’re a demon of protection.”

He nods.

“That doesn’t mean the humans who call me want that. They’re usually looking to get off. Are you not?”

The way his voice lifts at the end, as if he’s daring me to say no, as if he’s in disbelief that I’m not after sex, washes over me like a cold shower.

“No!”

Did I shout that? Shit. What if he wakes up? What if they all wake up?

“Hm…” His voice makes the air tremble and the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention.

I can’t deny he’s hot. He’s hotter than hot. He’s fire, and I’m the match and tinder that’ll be scorched if I get too close.

I definitely can’t blame anyone for calling this man for…more carnal affairs.

“I don’t want you to fuck me.”

That’s not what I want him for. That’s not what I need from him. That’s never something I’ll need from anyone ever in my life.

“I want you to free me.”

That’s what I need. Even if my body heats at the thought of Lucian touching me. Even if I’ve never felt desire for anyone. Not after what I’ve been through, not after all the pain that’s been inflicted on me.

And yet, seeing this tall hunk of a man standing in the middle of my room…the idea doesn’t sound so outlandish or intimidating.

“Free you? Free you how, darling boy?”

I glance at the hole in the floor where the hatch door is. Under which the monsters of my life are fast asleep, unaware of their perversion.

“I want you to free me from a blood bond. I want you to kill for me.”