Let me be. It was what I wanted. “Let you be?” I said, my gaze darting to the chalk, well out of reach.

He nodded, and my hand hurt when he let go and the blood flowed again. “You aren’t wanted here,” he said, his eyes lifting from me as I leaned back, the deathly silent hills watching us. “They hate you. Why are you trying to save them? This is your playground. Play! Play with me.”

He was smiling, looking as beautiful as only a satisfied demon could, knowing the world was his and nothing could stop him. I felt my wrist, looking for a way out and not finding one. There was no collective to help me move the curse, no white knight in the guise of a city-wide outflowing of goodwill. They had turned their backs on me, not trusting me. The hurt part of me said screw them, but I’d been afraid before and I couldn’t fault them. They were scared, and no one should die because they were scared. Not when someone else had the courage to say no.

“This isn’t my playground, this is my home,” I said, seeing my reflection in his eyes, my hair mussed, face flushed, and a heady hatred in my eyes. “And if you don’t leave, I’m going to kick your ass out.”

His head tilted and he laughed, beautiful in the sun with the ocean behind him. “Oh, Rachel, we could have had so much fun,” he said when he looked back at me, the last remnants of his mirth still lingering at the corners of his mouth. “I wish I could make you last, but truly, you are too close to being a threat to survive. Right now you are alone, with absolutely no curses, vulnerable. But someday you’ll be better than me. And I don’t trust you.”

Vulnerable. That’s what Al had said. But I hadn’t listened, and now all I had was what God had given me and what Trent’s father had enabled me to survive. And as I squinted at Ku’Sox, hating that he thought he had power over me simply because he was stronger, my will solidified. I didn’t need the damn collective. I was a coven-damned demoness.

Unaware of my thoughts, Ku’Sox reached out and snatched my wrist again, delighted as I struggled when he pulled me closer. “What, no long monologues?” I taunted him, and his expression became more domineering yet.

“No,” he said, rising to keep the weight advantage. “When I see a snake, I cut off its head and have done with it. After I suck out its poison for myself, of course.”

I twisted, trying to avoid his reaching hand, and he splayed his fingers. They were coated in his black aura, sparkling at the edges, and I did not want that touching me. But with a grunt of satisfaction, he thrust his hand against my face and shoved his will into mine.

I gasped as he was suddenly in my head with me, more oppressive and heavier than Al had ever hinted at. My heart pounded, and every thought of fighting vanished. Power. He had it. He was it. He had no morals. His soul was empty. He was content with what he was, confident that none could stop him. He was a day-walking demon who, like me, hadn’t been born a slave to the ever-after. He could see the sun, and it gave him strength. And he wanted me dead.