Everything Sinister

Fifty-Eight

That is why I was a bit to the right.

He broke that promise. And with that, my heart.

~LA

I would miss arguing with you just much as I would miss holding you.

~DL

~

I caressed Demont's bare stomach and looked up at him in worry.

"Did I hurt you?" I asked him and brushed my tousled hair out of my face. Beads of sweat were on his neck and chest and I wondered for the first time if the sex was worth it. Which was ridiculous but I was thinking it nevertheless.

"How could you ever hurt me?" Demont chuckled breathlessly.

My gaze fell to his fading bruises and bandages on his chest. I remembered all those times I screamed the most hurtful things I could think of to push him away. I remembered his shattered wrist and the look he gave me when I stepped away from him, shocked by my own actions.

Demont saw those thoughts in my eyes.

"You didn't hurt me, Love," he assured me with a soft kiss in the hair.

I caressed his stomach and he groaned softly. He pulled me closer, so close I heard his heart right under my ear and felt his breath ruffle my untamed hair.

The bruises started to turn green and I took that as a good sign. But I also realised it could've been much worse than this. Shaw was very much capable of burning someone, breaking their bones and bruising their organs. He was very much capable of drawing blood on every inch of someone's skin or dig his tools into his screaming victim's flesh. I knew. I knew just as well as Shaw, what monsters are capable of.

And Demont was only bruised. Because it was convenient for me not to see too much.

"Promise me you'll stop," I whispered. No. I begged.

"Do you really care for him so much?" Demont mumbled. He was jumping to conclusions but this time I wouldn't let him.

"Why do you say that?" I asked with worry.

"You're protecting him. The asshole deserves to be in jail," he said and I couldn't have agreed with him more. But there were a few things that are more important than vengeance. Very few but they are.

"Demont."

He looked at me and stopped playing with my hair. I looked up at him and I didn't know if knew already. There were so many untold words between us, we never dared to say. I lovingly caressed his cheek. It was such a simple gesture, it made him close his eyes. And me, smile.

"I don't care about the damn asshole. But you won't win. You'll get hurt," I told him with urgency.

"And I don't want that."

"So, you care about me then," he smirked and shifts our eyes meeting. I played with his hair, knowing that there is something serious in his eyes.

"Would it be bad if I did?"

Demont's golden eyes could never be worth less than that dirty money I earned. I was fucked up, I wore metal smell like perfume, I raised kids that weren't mine to fight and eventually... it was hard to live in the Sincity, but I don't blame the buildings with red lights that looked so spectacular at night. I blamed the wolves with golden teeth in them.

But not Demont. He was a different kind of gold.

Demont always looked at me, like he saw something. Even though I was pretty sure there was nothing to see in the darkness.