Page 95 of Demon Food

“Oh, shut up, Alek,” I said, whacking his shoulder. “Gods, fuck you.” I hit him again, failing to hide my grin. “You wouldn’t know that if you didn’t wake early to watch me sleep. Like a pervert.”

“See, human? With your name-calling and your violence.” He lifted one brow as he pointed to the shoulder I’d hit. “Am I not brave?”

I was struck with a sudden urge to kiss his stupid face. Then hit it while I called him names. Then kiss it again.

I was giving him a smoldering glare when the smile suddenly vanished from his face.

He canted his head toward the door, hitching into stillness, his eyes going vacant as he listened.

“What?” I asked. “What is it?”

“It’s…” He trailed off, drawing a finger to his lips. “A lot of footsteps.”

I squinted, trying to hear, but it was useless.

“Precise footsteps. They’re guards.”

Fear instantly struck my heart. He must’ve heard that, too, because he glanced at my chest.

I tried to hide the panic in my voice as I asked, “You don’t think it’s him, do you?”

He hesitated. Then he nodded. “My father is here.”

27

ALEK

Aknot was growing in my stomach.

I wasn’t exactly ready to see my father. Last time I was face to face with him, he was bending me to his will, ripping my flesh apart, drowning me in pain, and demanding I fucking thank him for it.

The anger swelling in my veins was enough for me to scream, but at the same time, this could be it. This could be a win. The moment Feloré, and quite possibly me, were set free.

A knock on the door.

All is well, my lovely human. I offered Feloré a nod, which he returned. I won’t let anything happen to you.

Steeling myself with a breath, I tugged open my door, and there he was.

My father, the pinnacle of elegance, stood draped in robes of ebony silk, his white gold crown encircling his head and soft hair spilling down his shoulders like someone had spent an hour sitting on his lap this morning, their only job to brush it while he fed. That was exactly how he started his day.

I couldn’t describe how it felt to see him. Bittersweet, I supposed. Like seeing the beauty of a sunset knowing it promised the hostile cold of night.

“Alekus,” he said, something about it especially severe, the same as his gaze. “How do you do, son?”

How did I do? I was locked in my fucking room, a prisoner of his brutality, tortured by my desire to consume the very human I was determined to save.

“Oh, never better, Father,” I said. “Thank you for asking.”

“Excellent. And your wild boar injury?” He lifted his eyebrows, but hardly any skin wrinkled. He didn’t look that much older than me in my current condition. “How is that faring?”

I kept my expression as nonreactive as possible. “I don’t know if your lackey told you, but it is restored. Entirely healed thanks to the generous aid of the human you’ve supplied. I suppose he did come in handy.”

“Mmhm. Yes, I heard he bled for you while quite aroused.” His nose crinkled and his voice dropped in disappointment as he said, “And that you did nothing in return.”

My brows drew together. “What would you have me do?”

“Oh, I don’t know, son.” He shrugged, flitting a hand about. “Put your mouth on his body. Make him put his mouth on yours. Anything, really.”