“I’m going to fuck your arse, sweetheart. You’re going to love my cock in your tight hole.” Overweight and balding, the guy shifts excitedly in his chair. Reaching out, he strokes my hair, lingering over the soft strands.

“Oh yes, Daddy, fill me up with your cum.” I coo back, pouting red painted lips. “You’re so big and strong.” Smiling up at him, from where I’m knelt on the floor, I easily hide my disgust.

He thinks he’s God’s gift to women. When really, he’s fucked a few hookers who have inflated his already over swollen ego. As marks go, I know tonight will be a breeze. The dumb schmuck was easy enough to find. Cruising for pussy down a well-known street wasn’t very smart. A little flirting and the sucker was mine. Now here we sit in a seedy hotel.

The single stark light bulb flickers above. Faded cream paint on the walls have seen better days. Stained, flowery, worn threadbare covers are thrown over the bed. Someone tried to mask the smell of something unpleasant with some kind of room spray. This room is well used. A normal haunt for hookers and pimps. The perfect place.

Tilting my head to the side, my red pigtails bounce with the movement. “Can I suck on your lollipop first?” Voice sultry, I keep just enough of the childlike wonder in my tone. Squeezing his chunky thigh covered trousers, I drop my glance suggestively to his crotch. Men are so predictable. Give enough attention to their dick and they’ll do anything you want.

Adjusting the growing ridge in his pants, he licks his lips. “Oh yeah, wrap those pretty red lips around it.”

There aren’t enough hand sanitizers in the world that would make me touch his micro dick. Luckily, I’m not getting paid to give him head. No, something way better. Much more my style.

Easing up slowly, I give him a smile. The scent of cigarettes and stale alcohol cling to him like a disgusting cloud. Those are scents I am well acquainted with. Something familiar in my own daily life.

“I’m going to make you feel so good.” Without giving it a thought I reach down for the blade sheathed and strapped against my thigh. I can barely contain my own giddiness with what is to come. It elevates my breathing. I’ve always been intimate with my needs. I have never had to deny them. My muscles tighten in anticipation. Before he can even move, I strike.

Slicing the blade swiftly across his carotid artery, blood spurts free. It hits my face, warm, wet and welcome. Eyes rolling back in my head, I enjoy the sensation. Some may find me sick. A psychopath. Truth is, I am those things and more. I’m the bitch who puts down lowlife scum like this and loves every second of it.

“You thought you were untouchable, you sick fuck.” I murmur, rocking back on my heels to watch his shock morph into realization. “But your good luck just ran out.”

He won’t last long. With a major vein open, he’ll bleed out in a matter of minutes. Not that he deserves it quick. This monster likes to rape little girls. If I’d had more time, and a secure location, I would have taken my time enjoying this. Made him pay for each child he had abused and left broken. But the clients wanted this done without a fuss. Of course, I never promised that it wouldn’t get messy.

I’m sure this was not where he envisioned his last few breaths. No doubt he thought it would be in the comfort of his own expensive bed. Old and dying, family surrounding him, untouched by the evil of his actions that have tainted the lives of so many others.

Gurgle rattling in his throat, eyes wide, he presses a hand to stem the thick, red flow. It won’t help. My cut was too deep for anyone to save him now. Slipping from the chair, he jerks as he hits the floor. Blood pools around him already soaking through his shirt front. The metallic flavour is on the tip of my tongue as I watch the life drain from his eyes.

Satisfaction sweeps through me. Fuck, I love my job. Other assassins do it for the money. Me? I do it for the buzz. There is nothing like getting bloody. Rubbing the sticky red between my fingertips and knowing it’s been pumping through my victim’s heart before I set it loose. Free of the fragile form that housed it. It feeds the urges lurking inside me.

It always leaves me feeling powerful and aroused. A predator. My only condition is the target can’t be an innocent. That’s not me. I may be a killer, but I still have morals. Ones I never wavier from whatever the price I’m offered.

Crouching low over the corpse, I clean my blade on his pants. Room service is going to have one heck of a surprise tomorrow. I would love to have been a fly on the wall when the poor person assigned to this room comes across this fucker.

Rising, I re-sheath my weapon. It’s one of my favourite pieces. Something made by a friend. Handy in a situation like this and easy to hide.

Checking my lipstick in the cracked full-length mirror hanging opposite on the wall, I see the red slash of colour is still in place. Crimson also decorates my cheek bones like blusher. My boob tube barely contains my tits. The bright, neon pink material is so tiny it’s like wearing a colourful belt. Black skirt falling to just above my knees, I’m thankful it covers my arse.

The ten-inch black stilettos are my favourite. I can walk in these babies like a pro. Heels made out of silver and titanium, they are everything a chick like me could ask for as a handy back-up weapon.

Adjusting the fire-truck-red pigtails, I rise to my feet. I’m a natural red head. Runs in my family. We’re more ginger than the darker shades which I generally use to dye my locks. Clear blue eyes stare back at me. No one ever suspects that under this youthful, sweet face lurks a ruthless killer.

Collecting my backpack, I head for the cramped bathroom. Although I don’t mind being covered in blood I can’t leave wearing it. That would be sloppy.

Five minutes later, I emerge cleaned up in jeans and a figure hugging black jumper. My hooker clothes and my knife are stuffed in the bottom of my bag.

“Mavi.”

Deep as the rumble of thunder the voice rolls over me.

“Fritz, what an unpleasant surprise.” Turning cautiously, I confront the owner.

As demons go, Fritz is on the scrawny side. Limbs, long and lean, he appears more adolescent than a full-grown male. Beneath the shock of black hair, a pair of red eyes stare back at me.

“This mortal was on my list. My soul collecting has been booming since you started killing for pay. I really need to thank you.”

Fuck. This is not what I need today.

“Unfortunate professional hazard.” I respond with a tight smile. “If I had known he was yours I would have let someone else take the job.”

My butt is already in hot water from the last few times I unintentionally helped this bastard out. When my boss finds out I’ve added another one my life won’t be worth living. And it’s not like I tell him. Working for an Angel who knows everything is kind of hard to keep secrets from.

“I liked the outfit you had on before better. Seventies slut suits you well. You should wear it more often.” He tells me with a grin.

“Thanks for the compliment, but no.”

Spending the rest of the evening talking to this idiot is not in my plans. Tonight, I have somewhere to be. Preferably, not in this paraphernalia or wearing anything left of my latest target’s blood spatter.

“I’ll let you get on with whatever the fuck you do with the bodies.” I tell him, strutting towards the door. “Not that I ever want to know.” I assure him quickly.

Demons are known for eating the hearts of those stupid enough to make contracts with them. Making a deal with a devil is the worst thing you can do. Your immortal soul goes straight to hell—a plaything for the damned and the king of darkness himself. But of course, no one realises that until it’s too late. The offer of having all your dreams comes true is something not everyone can resist.

“I meant that as a compliment.” Fritz calls after me. “I really did like your outfit.”

Was he flirting with me? Fuck if I really want to know. Maybe all the bloodshed turned him on. It’s hard to tell. Demons can be tricky. I’ve run into plenty in my time and ones not always as chatty as Fritz.

Slinking out the back of the motel, I find my bike. Being the one who suggested this little love nest I knew where to leave it before getting picked up. The night is chilly. Shivering, I savour the sharp bite of the November air.

A shower is what I need. Fresh clothes, then the rest of the night in the company of friends. What more could an assassin like me need?