Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39596 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 198(@200wpm)___ 158(@250wpm)___ 132(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39596 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 198(@200wpm)___ 158(@250wpm)___ 132(@300wpm)
Lonnie has always been able to see the preternaturals in the world and he’s always been fascinated with them. Especially demons. He even has an entire room dedicated to them. So he’s thrilled when his new bodyguard turns out to be one. Callan is big and gruff, his grumpy exterior a mask for someone who’s really a cuddle monster. And the gifts? He sure would like to know what that’s all about.
What started out as vague threats quickly escalates and when they realize what they’re up against, Callan is determined to keep his newfound treasure safe.
Demon is a long MM paranormal romance novella with a grumpy/sunshine pairing, traditional demon courting, and plenty of steam. It’s the third in the Mystic Guardians series, but can be read as a standalone.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter One
Callan
The earthy smell of blood and sweat permeated the underground warehouse. The scent was thick and cloying, like trying to inhale a salty, coppery mist. The deafening noise from the crowd echoed off the high ceiling, and overhead lights glared down in the huge space, most of them aimed at the fighting pit.
Callan Ambrose swung his fist, relishing the satisfying crunch of the other demon’s nose. Blood spattered his face, some getting into his eye. He quickly blinked it away as the massive demon roared, bent, and rammed his horns into Callan’s chest. The force of the blow sent Callan staggering back into the chain-link fence around the fighting pit, pain hammering deep into his chest.
One of Callan’s three brothers yelled from the sidelines, “Don’t let this bonehead get so damn close!” It could have been Rafe, or maybe Nathanial—it was hard to tell through the adrenaline.
Grinning, Callan spit blood to the side and rushed the other demon, going in low to punch into his stomach. His opponent grabbed his horns and twisted in a vicious yank that wrenched his neck. He jerked away, freeing his horns, and swept out his leg in a powerful kick that took the demon’s feet right off the floor. He hit the mat hard but rolled back to his feet quickly.
This one was a decent challenger for a change.
Callan grinned.
“That’s it! Take him down!” That was from Bartholomew—surprising he could tell, since the cheers and catcalls of all the preternaturals gathered had reached ear-breaking levels in the cavernous space. Not to mention the myriad of fierce thoughts Callan was picking up from the demons and other preternaturals gathered. As usual, they created a sensory overload that ramped up his rage.
I could take Callan Ambrose.
Wish these fights were to the death. That would be more exciting.
More blood!
“Go for his knees, Callan!” Bartholomew shouted. “They’re weak!”
Callan had seen the demon favoring his knees throughout the fight, and if this had been a real fight, a life-or-death situation, he wouldn’t have hesitated to take them out. But this was just a match for fun, and he had no intention of crippling a fellow demon who was probably here for the same reasons.
Fun. Battle. And a way to vent frustration.
Callan had more than his fair share of the latter. Especially with his brother Rafe and his new soulmate in the crowd. Rafe had met her completely by accident at one of these fights, and she was perfect for him. Rafe had told him he’d suspected what she was to him right away—that the base of his horns had tingled. Now they were always together, and constantly seeing the strength of their bond was like having a knife repeatedly stabbed into Callan’s heart.
Callan was happy for his brother. He was. But now his own odds of finding his true mate were so low, a simmering anger stayed inside him at all times.
So, he’d been coming to this underground battle arena often, taking out his anger toward the world on preternaturals who could handle his immense strength. And fighting a demon like this—one who nearly matched him in strength—gave him the rush he was after.
Like Callan, this demon was well over six feet in height. He wasn’t as broad, his arms weren’t as heavily muscled, but he packed a heavy punch and despite bad knees could easily hold his own. His skin was gray in color, much darker than Callan’s, and his horns were at least six inches longer. He was probably as old as Callan at four hundred years. All in all, he offered the kind of powerhouse fighting Callan needed. His frustration levels had been too much to handle lately.
A fist rocketed toward Callan’s face; he barely had time to twist, making it glance off his jaw. He bit his tongue, blood filling his mouth again. This time, he spit it right in the demon’s face.
The demon shouted and attacked, punching hard and fast. Callan blocked with his forearms, the music of the crowd and the shouts of his brothers ringing in his ears. He spun around, landed a blow to the demon’s already broken nose before dancing out of reach as the demon swung wildly.
They both had morbid streaks of blood on their gray flesh, were both breathing hard. Adrenaline pumped through Callan’s veins, but in the next moment, he picked up on some of Rafe’s thoughts because he was giving his new mate a kiss.
I can’t keep my hands off her! She’s just so perfect for me. Fate chose well.
That just brought to mind why Callan was so angry. And because he was distracted, he missed a block, a hard fist slamming into his stomach. All the air left his body in a loud whoosh.
“Stay vigilant!” Bartholomew yelled.
Surprised Bart had used such a big word out loud, Callan made the mistake of looking in that direction, and his head snapped back from an unexpected blow that added another split to his lip.