Page 77 of Demon Food

“See, I don’t want anyone else to have you.” He was wound so tightly, as tightly as me, and I couldn’t tell if we were still playing roles or if this had evolved into something deeper. “I hate the thought of someone else’s hands on your body. Someone else’s mouth on your skin. I hate it so much that I think I’ll outlaw it.”

An intense and wanton desire ripped through me, lighting my fingertips on fire. “You can’t do that.”

“The fuck I can’t.”

I whimpered when he scraped his fingernails through my hair, wrapping tingles around my ribcage. I was still stroking, lost in the sensation of his hand on me. Lost in his words.

“My kingdom. My rules,” he whispered, a wickedness curling into his tone. “And I say no one else touches you, my little forbidden fruit.”

Chills bristled the hairs on my arms. “What if they do?”

“They’ll regret it.” He gripped my hair by the roots, tilting my head back, exposing my mouth to his. “I’ll make it slow and agonizing. And excessively cruel.”

Fuck. Fuck, I was going to come.

“No one touches you.”

I swallowed hard.

He brushed his lips over mine, whispering into my mouth, “Only me.”

A raspy cry poured past my lips.

“Because you’re mine, darling,” he said, his fingers tightening even more.

My body felt like it was going to slingshot across the room and then through the sky as the pressure fostered in my lower abdomen like a rumbling volcano.

“You’re fucking mine.”

I was coming.

Gods, hard. Hard.

Muttering unending curse words into his mouth, coating my hand in so much wet as this demon snarled back at me, the sound like gravel and pure sin, and it was so much, and so good. His grip tightened on my hair, jerking my head back to meet his gaze, and I splashed my stomach in ribbons of white.

I was being pulled into two separate directions—the pleasure soaring me high into the heavens and the pain pulling straight down into hell.

There wasn’t time to think.

I yanked the knife from his neck, dug the sharp tip into the flesh of my palm, and forced myself to slash.

My voice was a husky mess that broke into a cry while he watched. Mouth open. Eyes wide. Fully fucking mesmerized.

I squeezed my fingers into a shaking fist above his ribs, emptying a stream of crimson red over his wound.

Echoes of pleasure spasmed my muscles while the sight of my blood dripping down his side did something else entirely.

I couldn’t describe it, but it was sick. And strange. And fucking delicious.

“My gods,” I panted, swallowing once with a throat so thick and dry, as I shut my eyes to catch my breath. To feel.

After a moment, I blinked my eyes open, but the gaze of my young prince was not his. It was dark. It was the color of a blood moon. It was demonic red.

My brows furrowed as my stomach tightened in panic. “Alek⁠—”

That was when Alek twitched.

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