JACKAL

A fucking half-witch.

That's why I'd nearly fucked her because she was temptation personified.

Now I felt responsible for the shit I'd awakened in her, but in my defence, I didn't know she was from a bloodline of witches.

My cock twitched at the thought of her, and I groaned.

I'm a sick fuck.

But I love witches, especially ones like her.

Her screams had woke me from my slumber, and out of sheer curiosity, I'd gone to see what was happening.

And there she was, a soaked half-witch, walking down the street without a care in the world. Through her saturated clothing, I could make out her nipples, the curves of her body.

Goddamn her.

Of course, this was all my fault. If I hadn't had—Nah, fuck it. It happened, and there she was.

Walking to the woods in a trance with a fucking soul thief behind her.

Even Ares would avoid one if he had the choice.

They were the worst of the worst, demons.

They could enchant you with their silky words and lies, turn you into a puddle of piss with their skills and looks.

This one I recognised.

His name was Bale.

He drained Anita of energy as she walked, and I panicked.

If I intervened, I would be killed.

Demons don't like vampires because when we kill our victims, their souls are free.

We have no interest in souls.

Well, other souls, anyway. Yet demons collect them.

They love them.

But this demon had only noticed Anita today because he sure wasn't around yesterday.

If he were, I'd probably be dead now.

Demons don't share.

Bale grabbed Anita just before she got to the house, and I fought against myself to stop him.

It would mean certain death, and I wasn't willing to die for this half-witch.

Even though she made me feel.

She's an enchantress. It's what they do.

No wonder I nearly fucked her. Imagine that.

Anyway, Anita got away.

Bale seemed amused and skulked about for a while, seemingly unaware I was there.

He'd lit a cigarette and smoked it casually like he hadn't almost taken a life.

But if he wanted her soul…he needed to be given it.

So is that why he didn't kill her?

He'd fucked off eventually, and only then did I move closer, hovering near the outskirts of the land the house stood on.

Vampires have somewhat evolved—we're not like we used to be. Garlic isn't a problem, but I guess a good old stake through the heart would still end me.

I wouldn't like to find out.

But the best thing was I didn't have to be invited in.

I just pretend I do.

So here I was, standing outside the door of the mysterious house Anita had fled to, trailing my fingers down the wood.

Magik.

Old Magik.

Bloodline of witches.

Of course, her ancestors were protecting her.

Then she doesn't need me.

The door swung open before me, and I froze, ready to vanish if needed. But as the door opened, it revealed Anita curled up on the tiny sofa with woollen blankets over her.

"Oh, boy."

I didn't want to go in.

But as I backed away, Anita's eyelids fluttered open, and I froze.

Eyes the colour of honey stared back at me, and her lips curled into an O shape as she sat up, her hair tumbling over her shoulders.

Fuck me; she was beautiful.

"Jackal?"

Her voice was syrupy sweet, and I couldn't stop myself from moving towards her.

"Hello again."

As she stretched, she lifted her arms, pushing her breasts together.

Oh, fuck me.

"Apparently, I've got you to thank for this," Anita said, glowering at me. "How the hell am I supposed to live normally? Look at me! I look like a goddamn Halloween doll!"

I smirked.

"I think you look hot."

"You would. You like witches."

"I do." I nodded, glancing around me. "I saw the guy that was here earlier. Bad, bad guy. You don't want to get in his way."

Anita glared at me again.

"And how exactly do I keep out of his way, Jackal? He's stalking me."

A pang of annoyance hits me.

"I don't know, do I? I'm a vampire, not a demon."

"You're a real vampire; thanks for last night, by the way. Now I'm this…." Anita waves a hand at herself, and I whistle admirably. "Don't, Jackal. This is your fault. Now I'm going to end up being that things victim."

"You're a witch, right? Can't you learn some spells?"

What the fuck was I doing here?

Maybe it's because I did feel responsible.

"I don't know any spells!" Anita shrieked, and the sky outside darkened. "I need you to protect me, Jackal."

I laughed, unable to take her seriously.

"Me? I'd die the same as you."

"But…" Anita panicked, her eyes glowing. "He'll kill me."

I sighed.

"I drink blood. But that thing?" I pointed outside before glancing back at her. "It would drink me. Whole."

Anita looked terrified.

"So I'm…alone?"

Her lower lip quivered, and as she moved, her dress exposed her thigh.

Soft.

Creamy.

Plump.

Fuck.

"Look, I'll stay awhile, just to keep you company. But if he gets in, I'm telling you, we're both dead."

Nothing better than honesty, right?

"In the meantime, learn some tricks."

Anita snorted, crossing her arms as she glanced around the room.

"It isn't that simple!"

"Yet you expect me to fight a demon from hell for someone I've just met? That's certain death, darling."

Anita scowled at me as I flopped into a chair.

"If you'll excuse me, I need to sleep. It's still daylight."

"But—"

"Look, beautiful," I said with a yawn. "Unless you've got some fresh blood to wake me up, or something more…interesting…." I allowed my gaze to drop over her delightful form. "I suggest you let me sleep."

Anita stomped away into the other room, and I chuckled to myself.

Fucking witches.

Nightmares, the lot of them.