"Come on, little witch. You're only prolonging the inevitable. We're going to have you one way... or the other..."
***
There are some rules you don't break
when it comes to the supernatural.
1. Don't be an idiot.
2. Don't make deals with Demons...
Ps: Also Happy New Years. Here's to obsession and delusions of grandeur in 2024! 🥴🫡
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The Bastard
The scent of her fear was even more intoxicating than I had thought. The erratic beating of her heart was music to my god forsaken ears.
When she pulled a blank and her eyes fluttered shut, her body relaxed against mine.
"Good girl," I whispered against her forehead. "My turn."
I relished the feel of the cool hard iron that I brought to my head. She watched me with wide eyes.
I gave her a wink before taking my turn.
Blank.
There was one shot left.
This was where the lesson got real.
Her face paled as the math began to add up in her head. I moved her hand to the desired position.
"Des," she whispered breathlessly.
"What's on your mind, peaches," I asked, playing with her soft brown locks. "I mean, while you still have one."
"Please don't do this," she begged. "I swear I won't be a problem anymore—"
"You're not a problem," I smiled. "You're a whole catastrophe. And a beautiful one at that. That's what makes you so dangerous. Any one of us would bite a bullet for you, peaches. But I take care of my own. I won't stand for your antics standing between me and the ones I call blood."
She was about to pull the gun away, but I gripped her hand.
"Pull the trigger," I said, the fire in my blood roaring with anticipation.
She shook her head. "You're going to have to do it yourself," she spat.
"And ruin the game," I asked, frowning. I kept my face close to hers. "Mal would be very disappointed in your lack of participation—"
"Fuck him. And fuck you too," she hissed.
"You should be directing that anger towards the people who actually want to see you dead," I snorted.
"Right now, that person is you," she cried, thrashing against me. I didn't let her go. "Des!"
"Think, peaches," I growled. "Use that brain of yours."
"For what," the witch sobbed. "It's hard to think when you're waving that huge gun around!"
I removed my hand from her hair, a low growl erupting from me. She didn't get it. She didn't understand anything of what I had just carefully taught her.
