Fighting For The Demon King

Fighting For The Demon King A Paranormal Demon Romance Shadow Huntress Book 3 Lindsey Devin Contents 1. Domenico 2. Domenico 3. Domenico 4. Domenico 5. Domenico 6. Natasha 7. Natasha 8. Natasha 9. Domenico 10. Natasha 11. Domenico 12. Natasha 13. Domenico 14. Natasha 15. Domenico 16. Natasha 17. Natasha 18. Natasha 19. Domenico 20. Natasha 21. Domenico 22. Natasha 23. Domenico 24. Natasha 25. Domenico 26. Natasha 27. Domenico 28. Natasha 29. Domenico 30. Natasha 31. Domenico 32. Natasha 33. Domenico 34. Domenico Fighting For The Demon King Chapter 1 Domenico Shock pulsed through me in a series of relentless waves. I had a white-knuckled grip on my phone, as though the little rectangle of metal and glass could act as an anchor. Natasha’s smiling face stared up at me from my lock screen. She was my wife; she was my whole world. Below her, in stark, brutal contrast, the text message was still visible. Your move. xoxo, Dad. We’d been caught off guard yet again. Lucifer, my bastard of a father, had stolen the spell book. Gabriel’s spell book, kept safely hidden by Liz’s wards for thousands of years. It had been the most promising of the extremely limited weapons we’d had to face him, and now it had been stolen right out from under our noses. My stomach roiled, and I forced down a jolt of nausea. When I managed to tear my eyes away from my phone, I realized that Liz looked just as shaken as I felt. “I don’t know how they managed to get into my vault. Hell, I don’t know how they managed to get into my house in the first place,” Lizbeth was saying. She was pacing the length of the guest room frantically, her lavender eyes wide and worried. Her face had gone a ghostly shade of white. “They didn’t trip a single one of the alarms, magical or technological. My security system is quite extensive, and it did absolutely nothing to stop them. It was like they knew the place inside and out already.” Liz’s hands were shaking, the tremor faint but unmistakable even across the room. I had known her for thousands of years, had considered her a close friend for many of them, and I couldn’t think of a single time that I had seen her so rattled. It made me even more uneasy, seeing her usually limitless poise falter like that. I had been leaning on her for support in the face of everything that I was dealing with, I realized. A small, selfish part of me wondered if I would be able to find a way to cope without her steady, determined reassurance to count on. I drowned that voice out as quickly as I could. There would be plenty of time to worry about myself later. Right now, my friend needed me. “Come on,” I said, taking her gently by the elbow. “Let’s go down to the vault, see if we can find anything.” Without meaning to, I’d slipped into the voice I used when talking to younger demons who had just seen their first gory fight: calm, level, unflappable in my confidence that things would be alright, no matter how I actually felt. Sounding soothing and authoritative without being patronizing was a difficult balance, but after the first century or so, I’d gotten very good at it. Liz let me steer her downstairs without complaint, which was also worrying. She usually radiated an air of calm, regal hospitality, politely but firmly refusing to let guests take the lead on anything. Now she seemed almost shell-shocked. When we got down to Liz’s sprawling underground library, one of the heavily laden antique bookshelves had been smoothly pushed aside to reveal a sleek, top-of-the-line array of computer monitors, each showing a different security camera angle of Liz’s house or the surrounding area. Cristiano was bent over the keyboard, switching through the feeds too quickly for me to follow. “They managed to avoid the cameras,” he said grimly, not even looking up at us. His shoulders were a tense line, and there was a deep furrow between his brows. The cold light of the computer screens cast a blue-white glow over his curls. “Whoever did this was a pro, there’s no question about that. And they could only have pulled this off if they had someone on the inside, too, or a shitload of time to case the joint. There’s no way they could’ve done this spontaneously; there are way too many moving parts to account for.” Liz’s arms were wrapped around herself tightly, an undisguised attempt at self-soothing. I tried to gently guide her to one of the overstuffed leather sofas, but she stood rigid and tall in front of the screens. Her ramrod-straight posture seemed to be the only thing keeping her from collapsing. “There,” she said suddenly, jabbing a manicured finger at one of the feeds. “No, no. Go back to the previous one.” Cristiano did as she told him, then leaned even further forward until his nose was almost touching the screen. “Holy shit,” he said. It came out in a stretched-out drawl. Hoh-leeee shit. On the screen was the grainy image of a demon. She was staring right through the camera as if to make eye contact with us, smirking like she’d just issued a challenge that she knew we wouldn’t be able to rise to. Her brazenness wasn’t the most surprising part, though. No, the real surprise was the way that the intruder looked. Her skin was puckered and twisted, her eyes black and cold as a shark’s. Her hands were elongated into sharp, deadly-looking claws. She was in her true form, her demonic form. The form that, since the Fall, demons could only manage to return to once they were dead and their souls had been driven from their bodies. “Well,” Liz said blankly. She stared at the screen, apparently at a loss for words. “Well,” she repeated, as if the