Satan's Affair by Carlton H. D

Author:Carlton, H. D.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-04-25T16:00:00+00:00

Silence greets me.

“Why would you do that?” he questions after a pregnant pause, taking a threatening step towards me.

For one single second, I lapse into a moment of insanity and almost take a step back. His image flickers, and for a split second, I see Daddy looming before me. I focus on the man and steel my spine, forcing myself to hold my place.

This monster will not intimidate me in my own home. Especially when I’m not the one that should be scared.

“Because I’ve cast my judgement,” I say, my own smile ticking up the corners of my mouth. “And you’ve failed. You’re an evil man, and you were here to hurt two women.”

“Two?” he queries, feigning stupidity.

“Yes,” I growl. “You deserve to die for what you had planned.”

“And what did I have planned?” He takes another step towards me. White hot rage prickles at my flesh. I do him the same honor and take one towards him.

He pauses, just for half a second, before he recovers and smiles. It was enough. He was surprised.

I giggle, an evil smile ticking at the corner of my lips. “Don’t play stupid, demon. You were going to kidnap them. Probably rape and torture them. You would’ve let your goons do the same. And then either kill them or sell them off to someone.”

He doesn’t speak. He just stares at me, his chest rising and falling in a steady, calm rhythm.

“Is that what you think?” he challenges, his voice deeper and huskier. He’s angry.

“That’s what I know,” I sass.

“Then it seems we’re done here,” he concludes before briskly walking towards me. I’m not sure if his intentions are to leave or to hurt me, but I don’t wait to find out. I charge at him, swiping my blade across his face.

But I miss. He bends backwards, the tip of my blade several inches from his face. It happens in almost slow motion—when he bends backwards and I catch the first glimpse of his face. I gasp, surprised by the sight.

And then time speeds. Like a viper, his hand snaps out and catches my wrist. I kick my leg out, my foot kicking in his kneecap. He stumbles, his hand dropping my wrist in surprise.

I bring my knife down in an arc, but he swivels out of the way.

“Feisty bitch,” he mutters, an almost amused pitch to his tone.

Growling, I continue to swipe my knife at him, backing him further into the room. I need to hurry and knock him out before someone stumbles in. My men will keep guests away as much as they can, but that doesn’t mean other staff members won’t take notice to discord in the system.

The man dodges each strike, seamlessly and swiftly. It looks as if he’s dancing and the fact that I don’t look as graceful as he does angers me further. He looks like something out of a film, the way his body curves around my knife, the strobe lights making him look like he’s skipping through time and space.

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