Demon Marked

“Ah.” He smiled a little, but there wasn’t amusement in it. Regret, maybe. Sitting back again, he said, “You deserve that much from me.”

“Yes, I do.”

The feet of the bed frame were scraping up a trail of splinters from the floorboards. She didn’t care. She dragged it to the side of the bath, sat on the mattress, and leaned forward to rest her elbows on the edge of the tub.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Ash.”

She met his eyes. He appeared sincere. And since he’d never had any compunction against telling her how much he didn’t want to care about her, he probably had no reason to lie now.

His lying had never been the problem, however. She finished the rest for him. “But also, you’re not even really sure whether you did hurt me, or whether I just want you to think you did. Am I right?”

His silence was confirmation enough. And if that confirmation made her chest ache, it didn’t matter. It would eventually fade.

And she was here to see him naked, so she looked. A thin trail of silken dark hair ran down the defined line of his lower stomach. His penis lay against his thigh, thickening even as she watched. Her presence, arousing him —and he didn’t attempt to conceal his reaction to her.

That might have mattered, if he’d attempted to conceal his reaction to her earlier.

“The red skin, the horns. That’s what you’ve always seen when you look at me. Isn’t it?”

“No,” he said softly. “But I always remind myself that it’s under there.”

“And you have to remind yourself, because I’ve never done anything to remind you. Except for this one time, when I came around your fingers.” She met his eyes, challenged him to say differently. When he didn’t, she asked, “Do you think I faked that, too?”

He didn’t. He didn’t. She could see that he didn’t. But he didn’t know what else to think. He didn’t have another explanation.

She had an explanation. She didn’t know why, she didn’t know how, but she knew: “You were wrong about me.”

“I want to be,” he said simply.

The constriction around her heart eased. I want to be. Before, he’d wanted to believe she was a liar. It was so much better that he wanted to believe she wasn’t.

She looked into the tub again. His cock now stood fully engorged, rising up out of the water, though she wasn’t even undressed. Though they hadn’t been talking about sex.

He wanted to be wrong, and he wanted her.

And he was just shy of monstrous. The familiar ache started between her legs—something that she hadn’t planned on feeling when she’d come here. She’d been plotting something else.

“I’ve been thinking about the Rules,” she said. “And I’ve realized that it can’t just be that I break them whenever I touch someone without their permission. I accidentally bumped into people in London all the time— especially in the Tube. But I didn’t have any Guardians coming after me.”

“Yes,” he said, his gaze watchful. Maybe wary. She hoped it was wary. “In a situation like that, you’re not impeding anyone’s free will.”

“Unless they’ve already said, ‘Hands off.’ Like you’ve made certain I know very clearly: Hands off, Ash.”

His jaw tightened for a second. Then, “Yes. I did.”

“But I want hands on. Right now, I want to stroke your cock. I want to take you into my mouth, suck on you until you come, drink you all down. I could do it now. I wouldn’t even have to come up for air.”

Nicholas didn’t respond, but his heart began to pound, a flush sweeping beneath his skin. His fingers clenched on the edge of the tub.

Careful not to touch him, she slipped her hand into the water between his thighs.

“Ash—”

He broke off on a groan when she flicked her hand, splashing water against his thick shaft. Again and again, quick, sharp flicks with the tips of her fingers that transformed beads of water into a heavy massage raining over his cock, his chest. Nicholas set his jaw, dropping his head as he bore the onslaught. When the straining muscles in his thighs began to shake, when a thick drop of pre-come formed at the head of his cock, she stopped.

“Ah, God, no!”

His hips lifted, as if reaching for her hand to touch him, to finish him, before he clenched his teeth and settled back in. He watched her again, his eyes hot.

She’d planned to undress, lie back on the bed, spread her thighs, and make herself come without letting him touch her, but she couldn’t look away from the thickness of his cock. She wanted him, still. She hadn’t planned that—and she could only imagine how he’d feel inside her.

But maybe that would be familiar, too.

Frowning, she swirled her fingers through the water again, watching it run up in tiny waves around the base of his shaft. A hot emotion began to rise up from her stomach, almost choking her. Not desire. Something else, and it tasted like acid.

“Ash?” A soft query prompted her.

“I’m wondering,” she said. “So far, almost everything of Rachel’s has been familiar to me. Even you, that first time you kissed me. So I wonder: If I take you inside, would you feel familiar then? It might hurt a little. But then I’d take you so deep.”

His voice roughened. “Yes.”

“Maybe you’d feel familiar in my mouth, too. Did she do that? Did you let her go down on you?”

She looked at Nicholas for an answer, saw him watching her, his dark brows lowered, shadowing his eyes.

“Ash . . .”

He didn’t want to say. And God—she didn’t want to hear.

“Don’t tell me.” She stood abruptly, almost stumbled as the backs of her knees hit the bed frame. Nicholas sat up, arms extended as if to catch her, steady her, but she jerked her hands away, out of his reach. “This wasn’t what I planned. I had a plot. I’m a demon. So I was going to come in, do this, leave you hard and frustrated.”

“I know.” He drew his hand back, his gaze searching her face. “I was going to let you. It would be torture. But it would be sweet, Ash.”

It had been sweet for her, too. But now . . .

“I can’t.” She pushed her fist against her chest, trying to stop the bile that was still rising up, rising. Oh, God. She knew the word that fit this emotion. “Because I’m jealous. I’m jealous of a dead woman, because she got to touch you and I can’t. And I don’t want to feel this. I don’t like this. I don’t want to feel any more of this shit that hurts and tears at me. I want to go. I just want to go and let it fade away. I want to go back to feeling nothing again.”

Nicholas stood, a cascade of water sheeting away from him. His face stark, he reached for her. “Ash—”

“No!” She slipped over the bed before he could touch her, before he could grab her and hold on to her. “Don’t touch me. Just release me from our bargain. Let me go.”

His hand dropped to his side, clenched into a fist. “I can’t.”

“Let me go!”

But she knew it was futile, even before he answered her again. He stood utterly naked in front of her, his obsession plain to see in every sculpted muscle. His body reminded her of everything she’d almost forgotten, what her need and desire had blinded her to: He only lived for revenge. And he wouldn’t let her go as long as she was bound to help him get it.

“I can’t let you go, Ash.” His hoarse reply confirmed everything she already knew. “I need you.”

But not for the reason she wanted him to need her. And she didn’t want to see him naked anymore.

She turned and left the room, closing her ears to him when he said her name. When she reached the front door, she kept going.

Lying awake in his darkened bedroom, Nicholas heard the cabin’s front door open, and the familiar sound of Ash’s boots against the floorboards.