“Whether that’s true or not, you can’t keep going on like this. I’m worried for ya,” he said, cradling my face in his hands. His lips were swollen from sucking my cock so I pulled him down until I could sink against those swollen lips.

I wanted Dullahan too, so badly, but right now wasn’t the time. Maybe it never would be. With Dullahan I wanted something different than what I had with Puca or Lacey. I wanted to just be a man, not a demon. I was unsure I could do it though. The demon always gnashed its teeth and showed its face, hungry and demanding. For Dullahan though, I wanted something slow and warm. Something tender and quiet. A pipe dream.

“I need you to do something for me,” I murmured against his mouth. He pulled back, looking apprehensive.

“Let me leave,” I said. If I could get some space I might be able to fix this. Feed and shove the demon back down.

“No,” Dullahan snarled right away, showing me his teeth. “Remington won’t be gone forever. You stay here. There’s no arguing about that.”

“Then chain me up, please,” I begged.

“Lorcan,” he sighed. “I thought you were getting better.”

“If you don’t chain me up and something happens to Lacey, I’ll never forgive you,” I said. It was a lie. I’d forgive him for anything. It was me I wouldn’t be able to forgive. It worked though. He agreed to keep me in the room, chained up for now.

“Thank you,” I said as he kissed me again.

“I hate this,” he said, his mouth dragging across my lips.

“I’ll get control of myself,” I lied. “It won’t be for long.”

24

I smiled at the improvements already underway. It had been over a week and Remington was still in the wind. I liked to think he had run away with his tail between his legs after seeing me slaughter his pathetic zombies. Remington might be at the big boy’s table, as he liked to call it, but he wasn’t at my table. No one was.

Regardless, if he decided to crawl back all the carpet was gutted and marble was going in everywhere. His messes were going to be a lot less annoying with all the necessary, and unnecessary, improvements I felt inclined to make. My Tower of Sin could withstand a hurricane now and Remington was no hurricane. He was just one mean little cowboy necromancer who still dressed like it was the sixties, the 1860s that is.

The problem was, it felt like I was waiting for something terrible to happen. That there were dark clouds on the horizon.

It put me on edge. What bad thing was going to happen? Was one of the men going to die? Would I fail to save them? It ate at me despite my trying to ignore it. My luck gave me good instincts though and therefore I knew something was inching closer. Something that I would hate.