The Last Slayer Read Online Free

the additions. The falls could have just as easily appeared right over my head. Or it could have been a volcano spewing lava.
    The cascading water seemed to reflect the golden sun until I looked closely. Each tiny particle of water was actually a droplet of sunbeam, the kind only found in the Solar Garden, the dragonhold of Armisael. Or so the reporters claimed, but who knew for sure? The media always gets supernatural stuff wrong, and no one had ever actually been to a dragonhold and returned to tell the tale. Rumor had it that even the Pentagon had given up looking for them. Guess their super-duper satellite spyware wasn’t good enough.
    Come on, come on.
    I wanted to get this over with and salvage what little was left of my “evening off.”
    Finally, the sound of a horse galloping echoed down the beach.
    Echoes. On a beach.
    I took a firmer grip on my sword, squinted against the sun and saw a centaur coming fast, the sand churning under its hooves. It was entirely black, and I couldn’t tell where its human torso ended and the equine part started. Not very creative, but then creatures of nightmare aren’t known for originality.
    My client began to touch herself…which was weird. Normally the incubus initiates sexual contact, not the other way around. The air smelled faintly of musk and lemon—in other words, fresh Sex—but that couldn’t be right. Sex can’t be created from a solo act. Maybe it was just me hallucinating after tossing down that vial of vomit inducer earlier.
    The centaur stopped in front of Selena and looked down at her, its face taut. “You’ve been disobeying my orders again.”
    Selena dropped her gaze. “Master.”
    I rolled my eyes.
    “What good is a disobedient slave? I should sell you.”
    “No!” Selena rose to her knees and stretched her arms out. “Master, please don’t cast me away.”
    The centaur shoved her to the sand and began whipping her back. Hard. I winced. I’d seen a lot of sexual fantasies on the job—it’s more or less required in my line of work—and some of them were pretty hardcore. I’d never enjoyed any of them, mainly because the things abusing my clients were real demons.
    “What happens to a disobedient wench?”
    “She gets punished!” Selena cried.
    The ground rose around her in ropes and tied her to its gritty surface. With each crack of the whip, her pelvis jerked and rubbed against the sand. Her breath grew jagged and fast.
    Impatience gnawed at me. What was Selena waiting for? One last high before surrendering the damn demon to me?
    As the punishment continued, the centaur’s cock started to stiffen. Crimson welts crisscrossed Selena’s body, but she didn’t shrink away. Rather she begged to service the thing.
    I pushed down a desire to go out and rip the demon’s face off. Interfering in someone’s dream without explicit permission is never a good idea, and I didn’t want to get stuck in jail until somebody from the firm bailed me out.
    The centaur hissed, “Yes,” and suddenly Selena was free. She knelt and took its penis into her mouth, playing with her hard nipples at the same time. Sweat and blood mingled and coated her skin.
    “Come on, come on, come on,” I muttered to myself. “Say ‘help.’”
    The sun started to sink into the ocean and limned the centaur in orange. It threw its head backward as Selena’s mouth moved faster over its cock. The scent of musk and lemon grew stronger. Her face contorted, turned into something raw and full of Sex, and I cursed.
    Without bothering for permission, I stepped out from behind the tree. There was no incubus. And this wasn’t a mortal woman bent on fulfilling her exhibitionist fantasy privately and safely.
    She was the demon. And she—no, it —was messing with me.
    I drew a dagger and threw it; a gust of wind suddenly came up and pushed it off-course.
    Hissing, Selena turned. Its face was human only by a technicality. “Mortal.”
    “Demon,” I said. “What kind of game are you