Page 186 of Sorrow & Strangers

He’s wrong.

“Tell me how you did it,” I say, and as a quiver of tension goes through him, I wonder if this is the first time I have actually surprised him.

Chapter Eighty

Rafe

Our host, otherwise known as Summer’s friend, had left the table soon after Alice and Summer had, leaving me here alone, feeling like a fish in a bowl, surrounded by the dignitaries and royals of dozens of realms. Proof of yet another place I don’t belong, and everyone present knows it. To say I was uncomfortable would be an understatement, and I was ridiculously relieved when Alice returned.

They went from hovering over my every movement to abandoning me in the middle of a room full of influential immortals who would be very displeased to find a demon sinking his teeth into their flesh. But every time I opened my mouth to express my nerves about being surrounded by people and suggest I leave, Alice gave me a look like she had another sense alerting her of my intentions.

“Who is that?” Alice asks, nudging me. “She’s staring at you.”

As if I would know if she doesn’t. I’m hardly a fount of knowledge when it comes to the who’s who of the realms. Following her gaze across the dining room, my eyes lock with those of the female watching me. The sparks in her amber irises draw me like a moth to the flame. Cinnamon-colored freckles cover her nose and cheeks, and a mane of unruly red hair cascades over her shoulders, contrasting beautifully with the emerald green of her dress. There are around a hundred attendees, and even though Alice forced me to shut up and come, everyone present seems to be under some kind of protection. No one has seemed particularly appetizing to the demon. Until now.

Run.

I blink in surprise at the desperation in the demon’s voice. Did it just tell me to run? It has never done that before, not even when it recoiled from Summer.

Run. Run. Run. Chase. Pursue.

Uh, what the fuck? The demon doesn’t sound scared or insistent. It sounds enthralled. Demons don’t have fated mates like fae, as far as I know. Unless my Uncle Lu has kept that as one hell of a secret. I do know he cares for Aunt Lili very deeply, despite how he acts. Do I even know how he met Aunt Lili?

“You should speak to her,” Alice says, interrupting the litany of commands in my head.

“Why?”

“Because I said so,” Alice adds drolly.

Flipping her off, I stand up and adjust my suit jacket, my curiosity about the demon’s reaction overcoming my normal aloofness. She must be ­something unique, because instead of its usual messages of devour, consume, ­corrupt, and exploit, it wants me to chase this female. I am getting better at tuning it out, and my control is slowly returning. My progress seems tied to how much aggression I can channel, and I have found working out is an excellent outlet. I hate that Romulus was the one to figure that out. Prick. Thankfully, I found a state-of-the-art gym in the resort and spent most of the day there. As a result, my more volatile urges are currently manageable.

She is gorgeous. Even in a room full of glittering women and men, she stands out, her hair flickering beneath the chandeliers and the glowing orbs of magic illuminating the room. Normally, I don’t notice that kind of thing. I don’t notice how people look. They just exist around me, and I only focus on them when they dare get too close.

I keep my gaze locked with the redhead’s as I weave through the crowd, but when I finally stop in front of her, I can’t think of a single thing to say. Seeking to fill the void of silence pulsing between us, the first thing out of my mouth is, “You’re staring at me.”

Smooth. Very smooth. Maybe I should have agreed to some of the hundreds of dates my brothers tried to set me up on. Then I would have practice.

Her eyes are darker than I first thought, more of a deep, dark brown, but the embers I spotted from afar spark in their depths, lightening the rich, mysterious depths.

“I am?” she purrs, her voice lilting slightly with an accent I can’t identify. She continues to stare at me, her dark red lips curving in a seductive smile. At least she doesn’t seem repulsed, but maybe she thinks I am a different type of horned being, not a demon. Not a Fallen. Not the fucking Prince of all Hell.

Make her run. Chase. Pursue.

“I like your horns,” she says, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. I watch, mesmerized by the way she leaves marks in the plump flesh.

“Do I know you?” I ask, my hands curling into fists at my sides to keep from touching the horns on my head. Even though I could feel them standing proudly on my head, and I had noticed the muscles in my neck and shoulders thickening in proportion to their growth over the last week, it is still strange to have someone casually reference them. It’s even stranger to see them in the mirror. I expected them to hurt as they grew longer, but they don’t. They almost feel natural to me now. Some days I can even pretend they aren’t there at all.

“Not yet,” she answers, gracefully standing from her table, ignoring the people she attended the night with. She’s a little over average height in her heels, but it’s her curves that grab my attention, making my mouth actually water. Shit. What is it about her? I’ve seen plenty of attractive people before, ones my brothers have taken care to point out to me for a reaction, hoping to see interest finally flare in me. Most of the time, it just annoyed me because my lack of reaction made me feel broken, and I didn’t need further proof of how different I am from my brothers or parents. It used to piss me off to no end, but now . . .

Pursue. Need.

The command propels me into motion, and my hand moves of its own accord, grabbing her arm. I drag her outside, intent on getting her away from prying eyes. Fuck, what’s wrong with me?

Her skin is warm, too warm beneath my hand. Is this what it’s like to touch someone else without the intention of kicking their ass? That can’t be it.

I don’t stop, and I don’t look back at her. She doesn’t struggle or even flinch from my touch, and that sends a spike of annoyance through me. She should not be okay with me touching her. I am not safe. My claws are out, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t get them to retract. With a single flex of my hand, they will dig in and hurt her, but she still doesn’t fight. She is either unbearably confident in her skills or annoyingly naïve. Once we are alone, I will explain why she shouldn’t just allow a demon to drag her away from her friends and safety.

When we reach the soft sands of the beach, I whip around to face her, expecting to see terror and disgust in her dark eyes. I’m a demon, a monster feared throughout the realms, and with good reason. But she still seems wholly unconcerned. The ember sparks in her eyes nearly glow, the reflections of the torches set up on the beach dulling in comparison. There’s no fear or disgust in her gaze, and she actually steps closer, looking up at me and resting her hand on my chest. I realize, looking down at her, that she must have kicked her shoes off somewhere on our trek across the sand.