Page 187 of Sorrow & Strangers

I don’t understand. Why is she looking at me like that?

“Why . . . why are you looking at me like that?” I ask, my thoughts slipping past my lips.

Why are you looking at me like I’m something worth seeing? Worth living? What is going on? Who is she?

“Like what?” she purrs again, her breath warm on the underside of my chin.

Her voice ignites something in me, catching my blood on fire and sending it roaring through my body. Purely on instinct, I press closer and rest my hand on her hip. It is as simple as my palm itched, and I need to touch her.

Boom. Boom.

Is that my heart? Surely not. Why is my skin so tight? I need to rip it off me. I need her even closer.

“Like that. It doesn’t make sense,” I insist. My throat tightens, and I cough to clear it. “Why do I feel like this?”

Fuck, I didn’t mean to ask that. I hadn’t meant to do anything I’ve done in the last ten minutes, but she doesn’t withdraw, doesn’t even answer my question. She just moves closer and slides her hands up my chest, wrapping her arms around my neck, her fingers finding the curls at my nape. My eyes roll back slightly at her gentle touch, and I rest my other hand on her hip to pull her tighter against me.

“Warm,” I whisper. My blood is humming in my veins, my heart racing, and we are just touching, nothing more. Is this what Connor meant when he tried to describe how he felt the night he met Summer? Is this what my father experienced when he first saw my mother? This warmth? This hum in the body that reverberates to the soul? It can’t be. They’re angels, and I’m not. Not anymore. I won’t get to experience that. When I fell, I gave it up, and I’m not supposed to feel like this. I’ve never felt anything like this.

Her nails dig into my skin, and I let out a surprised moan.

“Do you know what I am?” she murmurs, fitting herself against me, and oh, how she fits, like she is the missing piece to a puzzle I didn’t even know existed.

“Siren?” I guess. I have no fucking idea, and I couldn’t care less, so long as she keeps touching me. Siren would make sense. They are native to Atlantis and have the ability to lure many beings with their voice and song, but I think demons are immune to them. I can’t really remember anything at the moment, with the way she’s pressed against me, touching me.

She chuckles, and the sound is throaty, containing a dark promise I long to melt into. She slides one hand through my hair to curl it around the base of one of my horns. A flicker of heat reverberates throughout my entire body, making my cock jump and my toes curl.

“Try again,” she says, stroking the curved line of my horn from base to tip. My hips buck against her, seeking the friction against my aching cock, and those embers in her eyes burst into a fiery conflagration of wild flames, turning her irises a molten gold.

I still, all doubt fading from my mind.

“Phoenix,” I gasp. She is a legendary fire wielder and shapeshifter from the source realm of Pyrrhos. Carved from magma and lava, it is the only place more inhospitable to outsiders than Hell.

Dangerous. Powerful. I lift her, my claws digging into her hips as she wraps her legs around me. Her hold on my horns only tightens, and my demon writhes happily, feeling the heat from her palm. She doesn’t release me, and she doesn’t stop me.

“And you are . . . fucking delicious,” she purrs, grabbing my other horn with her free hand. Heat shoots down my spine, and my back arches. My eyes roll back, and I can tell from the way my vision changes that they have gone to onyx black. From the whips of pleasure and pain burning through nerve and muscle, I wouldn’t be surprised if my bones were glowing.

My knees hit the ground hard, and I slam her into the sand. “More,” I demand hoarsely. “More.”

Her grip on my horns scalds in the most exquisite way, and heat pours into my body. I brace myself on my elbows and fit my hips into the cradle of her thighs, grinding against her softness, seeking more of her fire, needing it like I need my next breath, maybe more. My claws flash, shredding the delicate fabric of her gown down the middle. I still, horror roiling through the pleasure, when I see that I’ve nicked her flesh. Blood trickles from the scratch, staining her creamy flesh, and I start to pull back, but she moans and arches, seeming to lean into the pain. Yanking on my horns, she slams my lips to hers, fusing our mouths.

Fire and honey. The taste is intoxicating, a blur of heat and sweetness.

More. More. More.

Chase. More. Pursue. More. Keep.

My hips buck against her, needing to be closer to her. My clothes are still in the way, and I know that is wrong, but I am too lost in instinct to remove them.

“Never felt like this,” I growl into her mouth, my hands moving over her body. Her skin is like heated silk, and I luxuriate in the flames licking at my fingers and palms.

She moans and grinds her hips against me, angling so the softness between her thighs cradles the rigid line of my cock. Our tongues slide against each other, carnal need and primal hunger in complete control.

Keep. More.

“The demon . . .” I groan, biting her lip. “Wants more.”

It’s half a warning, and half a plea. What will happen if I give it what it wants? What I want?