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I landed on the flat top of the tower. The center of the roof had long ago crumbled down into the levels below and stunted plants grew in the cracks between the stones, but most of the ground was still secure. Walls like broken teeth surrounded the edge, shielding my mate from the view of anything that dared approach from below, and nothing could come from above without me seeing it from miles away.
Once I was in position to keep her from falling into the gaping hole, I released her.
She retreated from me, eyes wide. “I want to speak to Roan. The other version of Roan.”
A vexed noise escaped my lips.
Her expression turned insistent. “Now.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
She questioned me?
Her eyes narrowed like she caught something of my thoughts in my expression, and the reaction was enough to dim my irritation, if only slightly. My treluria was attuned to me. She simply didn’t realize it yet.
“Who are you, then?” she asked. “Do I call you Roan too?”
My annoyance faded, but I couldn’t define the strange feeling that took its place. It wasn’t confusion. I was never confused. It was only that her question implied a need to explain myself. Identify myself, when I was nothing but myself. I needed no definition.
“I am the demon.”
“Roan’s demon?”
I huffed with indignation. “I belong to no one.”
She gave a careful nod like she was accepting the answer because I spoke it, not because she believed.
But the acceptance still pleased me, if only by a small amount.
Her eyes darted to the open air and then down to my cock before returning to my face. “Why have you brought me here?”
I grinned. She saw how good I would be for her. How no one would interrupt us when I brought her pleasure. To be sure, her smaller body would need time to adjust to me. To take me fully, if she even could. But I would be patient. I would go slowly, until she ached to be filled by me again and again. “Because you are mine.”
Rather than appear pleased, she tensed and her head lifted with an air of regal alarm, as if I had crossed a boundary between us.
But that was preposterous. No such thing should have existed.
She was being foolish too.
“I don’t belong to you,” she replied.
I snarled, taking a step forward before I caught myself. “You are mine.”
Her head shook, absolutely no doubt or fear in her eyes. “I belong to me. I choose to share myself with certain others. You are not one of them.”
The words were ludicrous. Insane. They made heat warp the air around my body, and I would not tolerate them. “You are my treluria!”
She froze.
Satisfaction surged in me. Now she understood. She would stop this foolishness and?—
“I’m not sure you know what that means. Or, at least, what it means to me and those I love.”
I stared, aghast at her mad words. “It means you are mine!”
Her eyebrow arched, every inch of her a queen. “And that proves it. Because if you did know, then you’d realize you can’t treat your true love like an object you control, regardless of what they want. Like something you own, just because you say so. You don’t rip them away from the men they love, injure those men, and then expect that person to be yours just because you demand it. That’s not true love.” She ran her eyes over me like she was peering past me to the broken one inside. “And whatever you might be, I hope Roan, at least, knows that.”
