“You. This.” She gestures between us. “Just… just have your way with me and be done with it.”
“Is that what you think is happening here?”
“It doesn’t matter what I think. Doesn’t matter what I say. What I do. It never has, so why should tonight be any different? All roads lead to the same dead end.” As if to prove her point, she grabs a random bottle from the bar and pitches it into the fireplace. It explodes in a white-hot fireball that scorches my newly installed Macassar ebony mantlepiece. “Fuck you,monster!”
Frustration simmers in my blood. I close my eyes and sigh.
Games it is, then.
I step toward her, backing her up against the wall and crowding in close until only a few inches remain between us. Still holding my glass, I drag a clawed finger down the center of her chest, slicing through the black lace and exposing her pale skin from throat to navel. Her breath trembles, her taut stomach concaving at my touch, then quivering, just like the rest of her.
Lowering my mouth to her ear, I whisper, “I’dmuchrather discuss howyoulike to be fucked, little mortal, since that’s where you seem to think this is heading. Care to enlighten me?”
Her cheeks darken, and she lowers her eyes, unable to hold my gaze.
“Nothing left to say to the monster who’s about to have his way with you?” I breathe. “If you don’t tell me how you like it, how will I know which pleasures to deny you?”
Her breath hitches again. “It’s… It’s none of your business.”
“Now, now. Don’t tell me you’ve never been intimate with a man.”
“It’s not that I’ve never beenintimate,” she snaps, some of her earlier fire returning. “It’s just that I… I’ve never…”
“Never what?”
An eternity passes before she answers, and when she finally speaks, her voice is as soft as her skin.
“Liked it,” she whispers, finally meeting my eyes. For the briefest instant, her gaze holds more pain than any mortal should have to bear.
And then it’s gone, and she’s pushing me away and ducking out from under my arm, the moment shattering.
Fucking hell,my protective instincts have me seething, wishing I could hunt down whoever it is that hurt her and stretch them out on one of Jude’s torture racks.
I leave her alone for a moment, then take a seat on the sofa, hoping she doesn’t try to bolt again.
After another agonizingly long pause, she finally curls up on an adjacent chair, tucking her feet up under what’s left of her tattered dress.
Fuck.
Glancing at my glass, I say softly, “You find yourself in quite a predicament, little mortal.”
“Yeah?” A bitter laugh escapes. “That’s weird. Here I thought fleeing the scene of a demon-stabbing and getting kidnapped by the men of shadow and stone would be a great adventure.”
“I see. And what do you know of the men of shadow and stone?”
“I know you own half the city, but your firm is most likely a front.”
“A front for what, pray tell?”
“For… for things that have nothing to do with preserving old churches and historical buildings.”
“But thatiswhat we do,” I say. “In fact, this very manor is a historical site. We purchased it from the original builder. Every few decades, we completely refurbish it.”
“Great,” she says flatly. “I’m sure the editors of Architectural Digest would love to know that in addition to your restoration hobbies, you moonlight as kidnappers. Not to mention murderers and torturers and who knows what else.”
I lift my brows and grin. “What else is there? Seems you’ve covered the whole list.”
She sighs and turns away from me, staring into the flames. I wait for her to speak again, to ask me questions, to demand her release, but she sits in a kind of statuesque silence that would make any gargoyle proud.
