Marcus' Prey

Chapter One

"And wings," I added under my breath, wincing when her eyes narrowed sharply. It was so easy to forget that she was a goddess. A Norse wolf goddess, to be exact.

"Apologies," she said sarcastically, crossing her arms.

My daemon form showing it's ugly-ass face wasn't because of my drunkenness, but I was not about to tell her that. The less she knew, the better.

"Well, I was checking on you," I griped, but she just rolled her eyes again.

"Thank you for that," she smirked, "your drunk ass really saved me from the sleep I desperately needed. I had an exam in Luce's Latin class the next morning, I'll have you know. You're just lucky I didn't fail, or he would've taken it out of both of our asses."

"I'm sure you would've enjoyed it far more than I," I smirked at her triumphantly.

"The way you two moon over each other behind my back, I wouldn't be so sure."

I clutched my heart in mock agony, throwing my forearm over my face, "You wound me, Ammi! My masculinity, it withers in the face of your ire!"

A pillow whapped me square in the face, smooshing my nose and stinging much more than one would expect. As it fell, I let my most exasperated expression show.

"Really? Is this how the Queen of Hell conducts herself now?"

She snorted a little laugh, "It's how I've always conducted myself. And stop calling me 'Queen of Hell'. It's fucking weird, my dude."

"Beat me in a sparring match, and maybe I'll think about it." I challenged, sitting upright. A good fight was exactly what I needed right now, to take the edge of the restless energy inside of me. Even now, claws threatened at my fingertips, my horns only hidden by my mass of ugly silver hair.

I hadn't been a vain god, as Aphrodite was. But I still could hate the monstrosity that God had twisted me into.

Ammi's brow quirked up. "So, you won't distract my angel for a night, but you will spar with me, which he has forbidden multiple times?"

I waved my hand dismissively, "He's just being overprotective. I won't hurt you. But I can't control what might happen to you at a bar with humans."

She eyed me shrewdly, her green eyes contemplative.

"You know, I always accuse Lucifer of being a controlling, overprotective bastard, but deep down, you're even worse, aren't you?"

Fuck, if she wasn't right. When I'd been a god and taken lovely Grecian woman as I pleased, they'd been delighted with my darker brand of pleasure. Before any of the modern men had discovered it, I had taught women the pleasure and pain of a leather strap in the hands of a capable, dominant god.

But Ammi was like a sister. I'd never be comfortable discussing such things.

"Who, me? Never. Lucifer is enough of a domineering asshole for the both of us." I grinned lazily, unwilling to let her know just how correct she was. "Are you trying to distract me so you don't get disgracefully beaten?"

Her eyes flashed, just as I'd known they would. Amirykal could never resist a challenge, she was too proud, too competitive. And though Lucifer warned her against it, it was something that would never change about her. She would get into trouble because of it for the rest of her days.

"You're fucking on, daemon bitch."

~

I groaned as I allowed the hot water to sluice over my tense back muscles, relaxing under the scalding spray. I reached for the sides of the stall, stumbling and cursing when they were farther away than I anticipated. Even after all these centuries, I still was startled by the extra space in the shower stall. I was still so unaccustomed to my smaller form, and I doubted it would ever change. I had lived for eons as the god of death, and this body fit me about as well as a shirt that was two sizes too small.