The Darkest Pleasure. Gena Showalter
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“What bad thing?” He asked the question before he could stop himself.
Those fangs emerged, chewing away at that thin bottom lip. “Ate Massster’sss hand. Want to play?”
And perhaps lose one of his hands? He thought about it, shrugged. “We can play.” Turnabout was only fair.
“Goody!” Claws clapped together in excitement, though the fiend remained a good distance away. “Can we change rule?”
There were rules? “What rule is that?”
“Winner never can beat me with ssstonesss.”
“Agreed.” Aeron would just bite him with teeth.
Laughing eerily, Legion leapt into the air. He bounded from one side of the cave to the other, a mere blur to Aeron’s eyes. Twice he whizzed past, cackling happily, and twice Aeron reached out, the metal bonds cutting deeper. The creature arched just out of reach.
Aeron stilled and pondered his options. He had limited range of motion, and Legion moved too quickly to see. He’d have to wait, a spider weaving a web, using his other senses.
Determined, he closed his eyes, welcoming total darkness. He placed his hands on his upraised knees, hoping he was the picture of tranquility.
Legion’s gleeful laughter echoed in his ears, closer…closer… Fingertips scraped his forehead, but Aeron didn’t even twitch.
“Catch me, catch me, if you can.”
Stones fell from the far wall a split second before the laughter increased in volume and a breeze ruffled the humid, ash-soaked air. Any moment…wait…wait for it… Something hot brushed his arm, and Aeron snapped his fingers closed.
A gasp, a squeal. Legion wiggled against his grip, laughter ceasing.
“I win.” Aeron’s teeth sharpened and he threw his head forward. Contact. Acid blood filled his mouth, burning, blistering.
“Ow!”
Coughing and spitting, Aeron released the demon. His eyelids popped open but soon narrowed to slits. Why didn’t you tell me he was poison? he barked at Wrath.
Didn’t know, was the pouting reply.
“You bit me.” There was accusation in the creature’s tone. Accusation and hurt. Tears filled those red eyes.
“You taste like bile, you disgusting maggot.”
“But…but…you made me bleed.” Legion rubbed at his neck, black blood seeping from between his scaled fingers. “You promisssed not to.”
“I promised not to beat you.” Something almost like… remorse? Yes, remorse sparked to life in Aeron’s chest, overshadowing his constant anger and overwhelming death-lust. “I—” What? Nearly gnawed you to bits but I’m sorry now? “I thought that’s how the game was played.”
“You thought wrong.” Legion sniffed and turned away. He— no longer an “it” in his mind, Aeron realized—stalked to the corner and buried his face in the rock, sulking.
Dear gods. How did I stumble into this situation?
Minions are such babies, Wrath growled, as if it wasn’t a baby.
“I didn’t know the rules,” Aeron said, shocked that he felt more like himself in that moment than he had in months and unsure of why.
Legion peeked over his shoulder, scales glistening like polished rubies in the red glow of Aeron’s demonic irises. His scales had been green before, hadn’t they? “If we going to be friendsss, you have to promissse not to bite anymore. My feelingsss got hurt, too.”
Friends? “Legion, I do not wish to hurt your feelings, but—”
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