demon-hunters

Even though his ass extended past the seat, it was so rock hard that it didn__ droop over the sides. I checked twice to make sure.

The twin desires to both smack the smug off his face and rip off his pants to see for myself should have negated each other and yet, there they were. __eriously, his stupid reality show Live like a King hits douchebag territory, but a demon?

I was torn apart. But you, my knight, you found all the pieces and put me back together.

An icy slither ran up my core as I stared at my right hand, its tremors Richter scale violent. Was this my demon-killing ability? Destined to be some supernatural whore luring hell spawn into back alleys for deadly rub and tugs?

What better way to lose that hangover headache than get drunk again? Oh, the joys of being Canadian with socialized health care and legal drinking age of nineteen. After a year (officially) honing that skill, I imbibed at an Olympic level. The red wine on the modular coffee table gleamed in a shaft of sunlight like its position had been ordained by the gods. I snatched up the crystal decanter, sloshing the liquid into the glass conveniently placed next to it. Once in a while, a girl could actually catch a break. I fanned myself with one hand. The myriad of lit candles seemed a bit much for Ari__ romantic encounter, but wine drinking trumped curiosity so I chugged the booze back. My entire body cheered as the cloyingly-sweet alcohol hit my system, though I hoped it wasn__ Manischewitz because hangovers on that were a bitch. I__ slugged back half the contents when I saw my mom on the far side of the room clutch her throat, eyes wide with horror. Not her usual, __ou need an intervention_ horror. No, her expression indicated I__ reached a whole new level of fuck-up. __ava Liron Katz,_ she gasped in full name outrage.