Belonging to the Demon King
Vincent's fingers itched to rip the bastard's throat out.
Not yet, his wolf warned.
Heading to the center table laden with food and drink he snatched up a bottle of wine, chugging it straight from the bottle.
"Has anyone ever told you, you drink too much, dog?" a sneering voice mocked.
A snarl vibrated up his chest as he glared sideways at the demon. Ivan the Defiler glared right back at him, his cold eyes like ice. Leaning against the table the demon crossed his arms, his black hair hanging to his waist. His face was harsh and cruel, a permanent sneer on his lips, while his black horns curled up from the sides of his head, the sharp points glinting in the light.