“Winging it,” he repeats, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Yeah, you know, throw ourselves into the midst of all the political chaos and see where things fall,” I clarify, and he joins in my laughter.
“In a few minutes, I’m going to go find my aunt and see what intelligence she can give me. I need to know who’s attending the party tonight and whether the district summit meeting has already happened or not.” His fingers trail absent circles across my back as he speaks, the gentle touch both soothing and distracting.
“You know my father and brothers might show their faces here tonight, right?” His voice takes on a more serious tone.
“I hope those fuckers do show up,” I say with genuine conviction. “Everyone’s true feelings are out in the open now. Lines have been drawn, and I’m not his pretty little prisoner anymore.”
Malachi rolls onto his side to face me properly. “No, you’re my beautiful, sarcastic, foul-mouthed little demon now.”
He brushes my hair away from my face with infinite tenderness and leans down to kiss me, soft and sweet and full of promise.
“Your demon?” I raise an eyebrow when he pulls back. “I don’t remember signing any ownership papers.”
“Mmm, I think it was in the fine print when you declared your love for me at the breakfast table,” he says with that infuriating smirk. “Right between ‘madly in love’ and ‘done fighting it.’”
“That was a moment of temporary insanity brought on by you two acting like territorial dogs,” I protest, though I’m fighting back a smile.
“Temporary?” He looks mock wounded. “I thought it was a binding contract.”
“If we’re talking contracts, then you’re stuck with my beautiful, sarcastic, foul-mouthed self permanently. No returns, no exchanges.”
“Deal,” he says without hesitation, pressing another kiss to my forehead. “Though I might need to add ‘dangerously impulsive’ to that list after your little impromptu experiment with Bash.”
Before I can decide how much to confess about the procedure, the hotel phone starts ringing.
“Room 1143, got it. I’ll be there in a few minutes,” Malachi says into the receiver before hanging up and running a hand through his dark hair and down his face.
“Alonso must have alerted my aunt to our arrival. That was Irina. I need to go speak with her, but you should get some rest before tonight.” He walks over to an elaborate control panel mounted on the wall and presses a few buttons until all theblackout curtains glide closed automatically, swallowing the room into complete darkness.
“Nice trick,” I say, blinking and waiting for my eyes to adjust to the sudden absence of light.
“High-end hotels have their perks,” he replies. “When I get back, I’ll join you for that nap… and maybe more.”
He leans down to kiss me one last time before reluctantly pulling away and slipping out the door. I pull the blankets up over my head and push all my thoughts away, knowing I need all the rest I can get.
I stir awake slowly, yawning as I feel a familiar body press against my back. An arm works its way around me, a hand splaying possessively across my stomach in a gesture that should be comforting, but something’s off.
“How long was I asleep? What time is it?” I whisper into the darkened room, a tiny stream of light peeking around the curtains.
When there’s no response, I assume Malachi is still sleeping, but then I open my eyes wider and go completely still as a cold awareness hits me like ice water. Something’s wrong. My internal alarm bells are screaming, and goosebumps start spreading across my skin.
“Malachi?” I whisper, reaching to touch the arm that’s draped across me.
The moment my fingers make contact, the sensation is scaling. The skin is cold, and this arm doesn’t feel as large and muscular as Malachi’s should. The proportions are completely off.
“Ahh!” I yelp, flinging the covers back violently and tossing the stranger’s arm off me as I fall off the bed in my panic. My side hits the plush carpet hard, and I scramble to my feet, heart hammering against my ribs.
A low, familiar chuckle reverberates through the room, making my blood turn to ice.
I narrow my eyes on the figure still lying in the bed, and my worst nightmare materializes before me. Damien is stretched out where Malachi should be, looking far more solid and real than any spirit should be able to manage.
My breathing starts to come in sharp, panicked bursts. “How are you touching me? How are you…” The horrifying implications sink in.
Damien has always felt stronger to me than other spirits, but his presence right now is so vivid, so physically real, that it has to be connected to whatever Bash did to enhance my abilities.
“You feel nice, Kitty Kat,” he says with that same predatory smile he wears so well, and I look down at myself, rubbing frantically at my shirt in a vain attempt scrub away the memory of where his hand was.
