Demon's Plaything Read Online Free PDF

rush, she was headed toward the dressing room. Demon debated whether or not to follow, but he ultimately stayed put. She was in the zone, so he’d let her work, and besides, if the guy really was hurt, Demon didn’t want to interfere with his treatment. So he waited for her, and after fifteen minutes, he went into the back and found the losing fighter, ribs now wrapped in an ACE bandage.
    “Where’s the doc?”
    The guy shrugged, looking dejected, and Demon went off to search.
    He found her outside the warehouse.
    “You shouldn’t be out here alone, Shayla,” he said.
    She looked at him, gaze wary, but she didn’t seem startled. “How’d you know my name?”
    He shrugged. “It seemed worth knowing, so I found out.”
    That got him a slight smile.
    “Huh,” she huffed noncommittally, seeming to dismiss the topic. “And why shouldn’t I be out here alone? Can’t imagine there’s anything worse out here than what’s in there, except maybe you,” she said, her voice weary.
    He couldn’t argue the point and instead stood next to her, waiting in silence.
    After a moment, she said, “Shouldn’t you be off doing whatever it is people do at these things?” Her tone was sharp, her stance defensive and unwelcoming, but the fact that she stayed in place suggested that she wasn’t as opposed to him or his company as her harsh words might indicate.
    “Not at all. That shit is old news; you’re far more interesting.”
    She snorted. “Interesting? No. More like misguided, foolish, and totally fucking crazy. What the hell am I doing here?”
    “What the hell are you doing here?” He echoed her question, unable to resist the desire to appease his curiosity.
    “Excellent question,” she said and looked up at him, giving what he suspected was the first genuine smile she’d had this day. “I wish I had an answer.” She shrugged. “But enough about me. You seem pretty popular.” Her eyes sparkled with mirth, the sight an encouraging departure from the coldness that had pervaded only moments ago.
    He suddenly felt a bit sheepish, pictures of the many, many woman he’d seen at similar events flashing through his mind.
    “Oh, so you’ve asked around about me too, eh?”
    She shook her head. “I have eyes, man. You were practically working the presidential rope line in there.”
    It was his turn to shrug noncommittally. “I know people.”
    “Oh, so vague,” she said rubbing her hands together with exuberant glee. “I smell a story. Wanna share?”
    “No story, really. I’ve been around a while, get out here and there.” For some reason, he felt the need to downplay his level of connection with the fights. He wasn’t ashamed, and in the grand scheme of things, he was not remotely important, but somehow, being in the company of such a decent person who was so clearly disturbed by what she’d seen made him want to disavow any tie at all.
    “Don’t try to downplay it, Demon,” she said sternly, her brow quirked.
    Apparently she was psychic too.
    “Okay. Well, I used to help with certain… promotional aspects of the fights. I don’t anymore, but people know me. I’m not ashamed of that.”
    “Surprising. You seem to be honest at least.” She assessed him with a detached gaze for a few moments. “There’s something to be said for that.”
    Then her mood shifted and her eyes went bright. “And what’s with the name, dude?”
    “My name is awesome,” he said, eager to change the subject and finding he rather enjoyed the more teasing side of Shayla.
    She laughed, totally unrestrained. “Awesome. That’s one word. Not that I can talk. I mean, ridiculous nickname and”—she looked him up and down—“terrible tie aside, you, unlike me, aren’t violating an oath and possibly committing a felony just by being here.”
    “Hey, what’s wrong with my tie?” He let the felony comment slide for the moment.
    “Since you asked, the color is all wrong for your complexion, and that pattern is