Chapter 7 – Charlie POV**
I pressed my forehead against the cool glass of the lobby window, heart hammering as green static lit up the street like fireworks from another era. Alastor stood in the center of the chaos, antlers fully extended, coat barely shifting in the night wind. Twenty sinners armed with crude blades and stolen angelic steel fragments closed in on him, but he looked utterly unbothered. A tentacle thicker than any I had felt upstairs lashed out, impaling two at once before erupting in violet electricity that reduced them to ash mid-scream. The power radiating from him pressed against the hotel's wards like a living storm—unchained, unrestrained, and far beyond what he had shown the day he first arrived.
My thighs clenched at the sight. Even now, hours after he had left me a trembling, leaking mess in his bed, my body responded. I could still feel the deep ache where he had stretched me repeatedly, the phantom vibration of those same tentacles on my clit, the hot rush of his release filling me until it spilled down my legs. I had come so many times I lost count, each orgasm crashing through me with embarrassing honesty while guilt gnawed at my insides. He thought every moan was fake. The anger in his thrusts, the way he had growled about "performances" and "tolerance"—it all stemmed from that terrible misreading. I wanted to run out there, grab his lapels, and tell him how my walls had fluttered with real need, how the guilt about Vaggie only sharpened the pleasure into something addictive.
Instead I stayed inside, watching him work.
A low whistle came from behind me. Angel Dust lounged against the bar, swirling a drink Husk had reluctantly poured. "Fuck me, toots. Your deer boy is putting on quite the show. Those moves look almost… tactical. Like he's herding them into a trap instead of just slaughtering wildly. Kinda hot."
He was right. Alastor wasn't brute-forcing the fight. He used bursts of static to create illusory duplicates of himself, mimicking the exact sound of their weapons clashing to draw them into clusters before one massive static explosion wiped out six at once. It felt familiar in a way I couldn't place—clever, frantic genius layered under theatrical menace. For a split second his eyes flashed amber again, not crimson, and a distorted howl echoed through the broadcast, sounding eerily like a wolf rather than radio static. The remaining attackers faltered at the alien noise.
Vaggie appeared at my side, her grip on her spear white-knuckled. "Charlie, we can't keep doing this. You disappear with him for hours, come back walking like you've been through a war, and now he's out there showing off power that feels *wrong*. The chains are gone. Whatever happened when he knocked on our door changed him. And you…" Her voice cracked. "You smell like him. Like sex and ozone. I thought we were partners."
The guilt hit like a physical blow. I loved Vaggie. Her loyalty, her sharp edges, the way she had believed in the hotel from the start. But upstairs, when Alastor had pinned me, misread my tears, and fucked me harder because of it, I had shattered with genuine ecstasy. My body still hummed with it. Even watching him now, coat splattered with ash, smile manic as he mimicked the scream of one dying demon perfectly to terrify the others, sent a fresh throb through my core. I was wet again, his earlier releases making my panties cling uncomfortably.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, reaching for her hand. She pulled away. "The deal keeps the hotel safe. He's protecting us right now. And the sex… it's not what you think. I'm not just tolerating it, Vaggie. I—"
A massive static burst cut me off. Outside, Alastor slammed his cane down, sending a shockwave that flattened the last attackers. Green sigils burned in the air, forming temporary barriers that looked suspiciously like the glowing patterns I had once seen in old mountain ash lore books. He turned toward the hotel, smile fixed, but his shoulders were tight with the same fury from our bed. He still believed I hated every second of his touch. The misunderstanding sat like a live wire between us.
Sir Pentious slithered up beside Angel, eyes wide. "Ssssuch power! The Radio Demon is ssstronger than ever. Perhapsss I shall reconsider my plans for conquest and… apply for redemption insstead?"
Niffty zipped past, giggling as she mopped up ash that had drifted inside. "Dirty boys go crunch! Clean clean clean!"
Alastor strode back through the doors, static fading to a low hum. His eyes found mine immediately, flickering with that strange mix of obsession and anger. "The evening's entertainment has concluded, my dear. The perimeter is secure for now. Shall we continue our discussion upstairs, or do you require more time to pretend everything is simply part of the grand performance?"
His voice dripped with radio charm, but I heard the hurt beneath it. He thought my flushed cheeks and quickened breathing were dread. They weren't. Part of me wanted him to drag me back to that bed right now, misread me again, and fuck the guilt right out of my system until I came so hard I couldn't think of anything but him.
Vaggie stepped between us. "She's staying with me tonight."
The static spiked. Alastor's antlers grew an inch. I felt another trickle of his cum escape down my thigh and had to suppress a shiver of renewed arousal. The hotel lobby buzzed with new guests whispering about the display they had just witnessed. Our first real night had begun with blood, sex, lies, and a power no one understood.
I stood caught between the woman I loved and the demon I was starting to crave, wondering how many more chapters of this deal I could survive before the truth finally broke through the static.