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She’s a 10, But She’s a Demon Slayer
Valencia and I had been a duo for a year, but she kept on surprising me.
“Fuck!” I yelled as the tentacled monster used a spiked appendage to hit me on the underside of my right arm. I retreated, gold stiletto blade in hand, as my fighting partner Valencia moved to cover me in defense.
“You okay, Damon?” she called back to me, crossing her arms over her chest to invoke barrier magic from the wards she had cast earlier before we had lured the demon into the trap.
“Yeah, never better,” I said, hissing as I ran a fingertip over the wound. My blood had already begun to weep black. If I didn’t get it cured within an hour, I’d need to be quarantined while the demon magic made its way through my system.
“They always get you when you’re caught unaware,” Valencia said, chiding me in her no-nonsense way while I glowered at her back. “This is why I’m always the lead on the missions. You get too cocky.”
If it had been anyone else — like Viola or Trent — I would have thrown an expletive their way. But this was Valencia. I could never swear at her. Even when she was kicking more demon ass than I was, at least she looked hot while doing it.
“You could actually, I don’t know, fight the demon instead of giving me a lesson,”…
