Claimed by Her Demon Read Free

young men in the car were all unconscious, with multiple fractures and other trauma. She had no way to identify them other than by the sounds of their voices. But given the marks on her wrists and ankles, the extra pieces of rope found in the car, and the prints that would eventually be found on the pocketknife, there was a lot of evidence even without a visual ID.
    She trudged the steps up to her door room, swiped her ID to get in, and collapsed on her bed. Her roommate Adrienne stirred awake.
    “Damn girl,” Adrienne mumbled. “Where the hell were you? Booty call?”
    Melinda sighed. “It’s a really long story.”
    “Was he hot?”
    Aren’t all demons? “Go back to sleep. I’ll tell you all about it later.”
    Adrienne mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like “slut,” and rolled back over.
    Melinda smiled. They name didn’t bother her. Not coming from her best friend. They teased each other all the time about hooking up with boys. Mainly because neither of them had much luck with it. Adrienne was considered too bookish and nerdy. And Melinda only seemed to appeal to gamers and guys who thought she’d be an easy lay.
    And apparently demons.
    Though, despite his monstrous appearance, she had a hard time picturing Ramael as some creature sent from the depths of hell. After all, she didn’t even believe in it per se. And there was something about the creature that didn’t fit with what she imagined forces of darkness to be like. Yes, he’d been pissed at first. But as soon as he’d verified who she was, that all changed.
    And then there were the cards.
    Oh that wicked, wicked spread. She’d been very careful about what she’d said to him. But if he knew anything about tarot, Ramael would know that it wasn’t The Lovers card that signaled budding romance.
    It was the Two of Cups.
    #
    As usual, Melinda was spending a Friday night in the library.
    Focusing on classes has been rough that week. She’d been interviewed again by the state police, spoken to a university counselor about her ordeal, spoken to the university police, spoken to her parents, professors, and few close friends. She was damn near sick of the whole thing.
    The driver of the car had woken up first and immediately confessed to the whole scheme. He even offered to testify against the others. The university moved quickly to suspend the fraternity. It sounded like all of the members involved would be expelled, once the investigation was complete, regardless of whether or not they were also prosecuted. Melinda secretly hoped that they would accept plea bargains. She definitely did not want to go through the trauma of a trial. And in her mind, justice had already been served, at least from a karmic standpoint. Two of the attackers were still being kept sedated. All of them would carry lifelong scars, and a couple might be disabled for the rest of their lives. She couldn’t say one way or another if further punishment would deter future assaults; in her experience, college kids did dumb and dangerous stuff regardless of the consequences.
    She sighed as she closed a book on art history. This tome wasn’t for any class. She was looking at ancient paintings because she couldn’t get Ramael out of her mind.
    It was ridiculous. If she’d spoken to the counselor about her encounter, she probably would have been told that she’d hallucinated the whole thing as a coping mechanism. And maybe she had. Every night she dreamed about the creature. Not distinctly. She’d be dreaming about whatever, and there was always a winged shadow lurking in the background. It never approached, never threatened. In fact, in her dreams she yearned to go to it and speak with it. But she was always too shy.
    Not scared. Shy.
    Because what if he wanted something far simpler and more primal than her soul? What if he wanted her?
    “Ridiculous,” she said out loud.
    “If you mean the pictures in that book, I agree with you. The idea of torturing souls for all time