Demon Marked

Despite his frustration, his voice remained smooth as silk. “You think I don’t know, demon? You can’t want sex, let alone enjoy it.”

“What do you mean, I can’t?” A spark of fear burned through her. “It’s against the Rules?”

“You can’t. It’s impossible, physically.” His head lowered, mouth hovering over hers. “I could kiss you, and you’d feel my lips and tongue. You won’t feel the need that comes with it, when you don’t know if it’s your mind wanting or your body taking over.”

Mind or body? Ash didn’t know. She tore her gaze from his and studied his mouth. She only had to lift onto her toes, and she’d taste him. She wanted to.

She couldn’t. Not without permission. Her hands had to remain fisted at her sides instead of drawing him down to her lips.

But no matter what Nicholas thought he knew, she felt this need. God, how she felt it.

“Look at you, Ash. Your eyes beginning to glow, your nipples hard. Pretend all you like, but I know that’s not from wanting me. I could suck on them all day, and you wouldn’t get hot. Not really hot.” His voice roughened. “Maybe you could even make yourself wet. I don’t know.”

As far as Ash knew, she couldn’t make herself wet. But she was now. Her muscles seemed to turn to water, all of her warm and liquid. She wanted to sway against him, feel the hardness of his chest against her breasts—and if his body had reacted like hers, to rub herself against the thrust of his erection. Nicholas obviously didn’t believe that he could do this to her, but she could feel the slick need, the delicious ache.

Ash met his eyes again. “I am.”

For a moment, desire flared through the cool amusement, before hardening to ice again. “So I could have you. You’d surround my cock with heat, like nothing I’ve ever had . . . and it’d be like fucking a blow-up doll. Every reaction, faked.”

Her body didn’t agree. “Then what is it I’m feeling?”

“Lies.” He lifted his head. “Not from your lips, but pretending without words.”

“No.” Her nipples and sex ached for a touch. That wasn’t faked. “This is real.”

“It can’t be.”

“It is.”

But Ash understood that he couldn’t do anything but assume that she lied. She tilted her head, considering him, and his hands slid from her jaw to her shoulders. Still holding her in place—because he knew the Rules. Yet didn’t he know that a demon could feel something like this?

“Are you certain your Guardian informant knows what she’s talking about?”

“I’m sure.” Almost absently, his thumbs stroked her collarbones. Nicholas didn’t look at the skin he touched, however; his gaze continued to hold hers. “Don’t try to discredit her.”

Ash wouldn’t. “And there’s no room for exceptions?”

His lips quirked. Not cold, disdainful amusement this time, but the sort of smile that existed on the edge of a laugh.

“Is this your new plot? You’ll persuade me that you’re some kind of exception, different from every other demon, and that you want me in bed. And when I’m finally in there with you, you’ll say, ‘Oh, Nicholas! I wish I could touch you, but I have to follow the Rules!’—and moments after I give you permission, you’ll punch through my chest and rip out my heart.”

Ash blinked. His imitation of her accent had been spot on, and as for the rest—“You’ve given that scenario a lot of thought.”

“I like to remind myself what will happen if I let my dick do my thinking.” His fingers tightened, as if he thought she might pull away when he asked the next question. “The nurses from Nightingale House said that you suffered from a lack of affect. That you didn’t feel any emotion or empathy. Three years of that. So don’t try to change your story now and pretend to feel anything.”

“I won’t pretend,” she said. Let him take that as he liked. For now, she was more interested in the rest of what he’d just told her. “You’ve already verified everything I told you about Nightingale House?”

“Of course.”

“So you know I told the truth.”

Nicholas shrugged. “My investigator might be a demon, too. Or Madelyn might have some kind of hold over him—or you might—and now he’s just parroting your lies.”

Holy good God, what a ridiculous response. Either Nicholas was a completely paranoid lunatic who thought demons had some awesome conspiratorial power . . . or he wasn’t serious at all. Was he? Ash watched him struggle against a grin, and that was answer enough.

“So you know it was the truth,” she said.

“At least part of it,” he agreed. “But I still can’t trust that all of it is.”

Which was either a smart decision, or insanely paranoid. Maybe both. Whatever it turned out to be, she already liked his sense of self-preservation.

No, it was more than that. She didn’t just like the things he did and how he did them.

“I like you,” Ash said. And she enjoyed liking him, so much that her enjoyment spread into a smile—a physical response to an emotion. How odd, that being around this cold and obsessive man made her happy. “I truly like you.”

His expression froze, and she realized that either her confession or her smile had surprised him. He recovered quickly, with a mocking grin and an arid tone—a defense, Ash recognized.

“Demons also like torturing animals. So coming from you, that’s hardly a compliment.”

“What would be a compliment, then?” Something evil, she supposed. “Oh, Nicholas, you’re looking so coldhearted and sardonic tonight, as if you’re dreaming about punching a baby.”

She saw it—the beginning of a laugh. Heard it in his sharp intake of breath. But he forced it back, his strong fingers digging into her shoulders.

“Don’t,” he warned.

Yes, God forbid. Oh, and she knew this emotion welling up within her now: irritation. She felt the change of her teeth, the odd pointed pressure of fangs against her lips. She saw the wash of red light across his skin, the pink glow on his white collar. Suddenly, she hated that he could hold her here like this.

“I’ve got an idea,” she said—hissed. “Why don’t you give me permission to smash your balls in with my knee? I guarantee you wouldn’t like me after that, and wouldn’t have to stop yourself from laughing.”

His eyes narrowed. “That bothers you?”

“Yes.” She couldn’t lie. Nor could she hold on to the irritation and anger. They’d already faded—yet she still liked him. Why didn’t that go away? “It also bothers me that my fangs apparently give me a lisp, and I don’t know how to make them appear so that I can practice.”

Nicholas didn’t respond, and she couldn’t read his expression again—which meant that he was thinking something that she could use against him. But she saw the moment when his thoughts turned to something that he didn’t mind her knowing: That cold little smile formed again and his gaze dropped to his hands, still holding her shoulders. Icy satisfaction bled though the shield over his emotions.

“What is it?” she asked. No doubt more about how evil demons were, rinse and repeat.

“I was remembering what Rosalia once told me: Fill a room with hundreds of demons and Guardians who can each fly and throw city buses around, then add one human . . . and that one weak person would be the most powerful being in the room.”

That was far more interesting than evil and lies. “Because of the Rules?”

“Yes. A demon has little physical power against a human. But a human can do anything to a demon.”

Suddenly, though he’d loosened his grip until it would take little effort to step away from him, Nicholas’s hold on her seemed like a threat. Was that what he wanted her to feel?

“You want me vulnerable?”

“I don’t know if vulnerable is possible for a demon. I just wanted the upper hand —and I almost forgot that I’ve always had it.” He let go of her shoulders and stepped back. His gaze swept from her head to her toes. “So do what you like, demon. Try to lure me into bed, try to make me laugh. It won’t matter in the end. The only power you can ever have over a human is an emotional one, and I’ll never