Slaved to a Devil [lesbian] novel Chapter 32

Elise

Glass shards fly in all directions, splintering to the floor as the winged body of Lauren’s demon self is flung through the unbroken window of the bedroom. I stand frozen in horror as I watch the Witch land on the window sill, finally giving me a full, unobscured first look at the woman.

Much like Lauren, the woman had fangs extending from her lips, her entire sclera encapsulating darkness and talloned nails extending from her fingers. However that's where the similarities end, where Lauren’s webbed bat wings spread out from her back in pride and defence, the woman has absolutely no wings at all and other than a few wrinkles on her skin, she looked almost as normal as any other woman.

I feel myself flinch as the woman’s eyes switch to mine, but I remain still. I was serious when I didn’t want Lauren to die, even more so when I wanted to sacrifice myself for her. I would gladly die for her safety.

The Witch makes a step towards me, but her body is flung across the room by Lauren’s strength before she pushes me into the corner again.

“I swear if you ever do that again,” she growls, glaring into my eyes. “Stay here,” she says through gritted teeth.

I nod, flinching away from her angry stare and curling into the corner as she turns to attack her stepmother again. I crouch, hiding behind the bed as I watched the two women’s talon-like claws are extended towards one another.

The nails scratching their skin reminds me of the night I had tried to pierce Lauren’s throat with the knife and how the blade had bent instead. How was either of these women going to win this fight?

With that thought pondering in my head, I watch as a small cut is made in the Witch’s arm, breaking the skin and seeping red.

She isn’t immortal. That means neither is Lauren.

I watch in awe as Lauren’s meticulous and calculated attacks tear through more and more of her skin, however doesn’t do too much damage and goes unnoticed by both as Lauren’s stepmother is keeping herself well protected.

Looking around the room for something that could help Lauren, my eyes latch onto the desk across the room, cluttered with files and papers and…

That would work.

+++Change of POV+++

Lauren

I was irate, completely feral; all I saw was red and the only desire I had was to turn that red from my vision into the blood of my stepmother. But I was also channeling my fear of losing Elise. I was so angry I couldn’t even fully comprehend the words she had told me before she stupidly ran toward her death.

How could she claim to love me and do such a thing to put herself in danger? She was my reason to live as much as she was my reason to die.

I feel my nails making contact and slicing through, but I don’t care about the damage made to the Witch’s body, because it wasn’t enough. I want to see her tortured, like the torture she had my mother go through. I want to see her in agony, like the agony and heartache she bestowed on me through this never ending curse.

For once I actually wanted to lose control. I wanted to feel the lava consume my every being and flood my consciousness and turn everything black. She doesn’t deserve mercy, and mercy is the one thing my demon doesn’t possess.

I see movement in the corner of my eye, but I ignore it as I feel a large gash being placed across my chest, peeling my scaled skin to allow the flow of redness to pour out of me.

For a moment, we both stop, our anger and agendas set aside by the all too impossible sight of blood seeping from my deceiving immortality. For almost a century and a half, I can actually feel the torn skin and the streams of blood rolling down my abdoman. The coolness contrasting and distinctive against my boiling skin.

“How is this possible?” The older woman asks herself, inspecting the broken skin on her arms, not paying any attention to the small body silently creeping to the other side of the room.

My eyes follow Elise, bulging slightly in horror and madness. She is no less than five feet from a homicidal bitch, that won’t even care about her blood splatter when she has claws deep into her.

“Maybe Elise is affecting you as much as she is me,” I say, trying to keep her attention on me. Unfortunately it draws the woman’s attention towards the young girl who has only just situated herself by my corner desk.

“I’ll kill you,” she screeches at Elise’s shrinking form as she tries to make herself smaller.