ONE KISS COULD BE THE LAST
Seventeen-year-old Layla just wants to be normalâfit in at school, and go out on a real date with the gorgeous Zayne, whom sheâs crushed on since forever. Trouble is, Zayne treats Layla like a sisterâand Layla is anything but normal. Sheâs half demon, half gargoyle, with abilities no one else possesses. And even though Zayne is a Warden, part of the race of gargoyles tasked with hunting demons and keeping humanity safe, Laylaâs kiss will kill anything with a soulâincluding him.
Then she meets Rothâa tattooed, sinfully hot demon who claims to know her secrets. Though Layla knows she should stay away, itâs tough when that whole no-kissing thing isnât an issue. Trusting Roth could ruin her chances with Zayneâand brand her a traitor to the Warden family that raised her. But as Layla discovers sheâs the sole reason for a violent demon uprising, kissing the enemy suddenly pales in comparison to the looming end of the world.
CHAPTER ONE
There was a demon in McDonaldâs.
And it had a powerful hunger for Big Macs.
Most days, I loved my after-school job. Tagging the soulless and the damned usually gave me a mad case of the warm fuzzies. Iâd even given myself a quota out of boredom, but tonight was different.
I had a paper to outline for AP English.
âAre you gonna eat those fries?â Sam asked as he grabbed a handful off my tray. His curly brown hair fell over his wire-frame glasses. âThanks.â
âJust donât take her sweet tea.â Stacey slapped Samâs arm and several fries fell to the floor. âYouâll lose your entire arm.â
I stopped tapping my foot, but kept my eye on the interloper. I donât know what it was with demons and the Golden Arches, but man, they loved the place. âHa-ha.â
âWho do you keep staring at, Layla?â Stacey twisted in the booth, looking around the crowded fast-food joint. âIs it a hot guy? If so, you betterâ Oh. Wow. Who goes out in public dressed like that?â
âWhat?â Sam turned, too. âAw, come on, Stacey. Who cares? Not everyone wears knockoff Prada like you.â
To them, the demon looked like a harmless middle-aged woman with really bad fashion sense. Her dull brown hair was pinned up with one of those old-school purple butterfly clips. She wore velvet green track pants paired with pink sneakers, but it was her sweater that was epic. Someone had knitted a basset hound on the front, its big, sappy eyes made of brown yarn.
But despite her drab appearance, the lady wasnât human.
Not that I had a lot of room to talk.
She was a Poser demon. Her astronomical appetite was what gave away the breed. Posers could eat a small nationâs worth of food in one sitting.
Posers might look and act human, but I knew this one could snap the head off the person in the booth next to her with little effort. Her inhuman strength wasnât the threat, though. It was the Poserâs teeth and infectious saliva that were the real danger.
They were biters.
One little nip and the demonic version of rabies was passed to the human. Totally incurable, and within three days, the Poserâs chew toy would resemble something straight out of a George Romero flick, cannibalistic tendencies included.
Obviously, Posers were a real problem unless you considered a zombie apocalypse fun times. Only good thing was that Posers were rare, and every time one bit somebody, its lifespan was shortened. They usually had about seven good bites in them before they went poof. Sort of like a bee and its stinger but dumber.
Posers could look like anything they wanted. Why this one was rocking an outfit like that was beyond me.
Stacey made a face as the Poser moved on to her third burger. She wasnât aware of us watching her. Posers werenât known for their keen powers of observation, especially when preoccupied with secret-sauce awesomeness.
âThatâs disgusting.â Stacey turned back around.
âI think the sweater is hot.â Sam grinned around another mouthful of my fries. âHey, Layla, do you think Zayne would let me interview him for the school paper?â
My brows rose. âWhy do you want to interview him?â
He gave me a knowing look. âTo ask whatâs it like to be a Warden in D.C., hunting down the bad guys and bringing them to justice and all that jazz.â