Page 85 of Sorrow & Strangers

A loud knock disrupts the early morning quiet, breaking the spell we’d been weaving between us. She pulls away from me and sits up.

“Stay here,” she commands, slipping out of bed.

Another order. How many times will she try that with me before she realizes it doesn’t work? I shift, rolling onto my back and tucking an arm behind my head, the sheet barely draped over me. What is her plan here? And why am I so entertained by the way she thinks?

She’s still wearing my shirt, and she loosens a few of the buttons, draping it so it falls off one shoulder. She rounds the bed, shifting from foot to foot. “Can you do a rune for . . . scratches?”

I nod. I can do a rune, but I’m not going to. Wrapping an arm around her waist, I yank her onto my lap. Her skin is like silk as I slide my hands over her thighs and slip them beneath the shirt, raking my nails over her ass and hips. I dip my head and lap my tongue along her throat, prompting the fangs of my glamour to ache viciously. Giving in to the instinct, I open my mouth wide and sink them into the delicate curve of her neck where it meets her shoulder.

Claimed. Marked.

She struggles for a moment but stops and muffles a moan when I break skin. Her body rocks against mine in a primal response, aching for more. I cup the back of her head in one hand and tilt my own, guiding her mouth to my neck, needing her to complete the claiming. Her lips brush my throat, her breath hot as she laps delicately at my pulse. A visceral shudder rips through my body, and my cock pulses between us. My hold on her tightens, some part of me desperate to have her mark on me, but then she turns her head away, denying me.

“Absolutely not,” she breathes. The edge of desire is clear in her voice, but she shoves me away hard, her nails clawing my chest as she forces my fangs from her throat. “What-what are you doing?” she pants.

My tongue darts out, reverently licking the blood from my lips, the taste of her unlocking something feral inside me. I stare at the bite mark I left on her throat, in a place that will be nearly impossible to hide. Deep satisfaction mixes with the aching hunger.

Should have marked her harder. Need to mark her again. A warning to others of whom she belongs to.

Another knock echoes through the room, and she clears her throat, pushing against my chest. “I-I should get that,” she says, but I don’t miss the way her fingers trace the welts her nails left behind.

Reluctantly, I relax my hold on her, and she slips off my lap. She opens a jar of brimstone and sprinkles it on the small table in the room before padding to the door.

“Who is it?” I call, keeping my voice even and relaxed as she opens the door.

“You have our order?” she asks the demon at the door, ignoring me. Even in the guise of being a mated pair, she can’t help but be a brat.

“Need the fee,” he gruffs.

She glances back at me. “Baby?”

Oh, fuck. I like that. Even knowing she’s just throwing the endearment back at me after I used it the day before, I like it a lot.

I roll out of bed and wrap the sheet tighter around my waist, wearing the marks she gave me on my chest with pride. Fishing the soul card from my pants, I offer it to her as I join her at the door. “Right here, princess.”

She snatches the card from my hand, her eyes trailing over my body. Admiring her handiwork?

“Thank you,” she says, practically hurling the card at the demon.

The demon passes it over his tablet and nods. “Ten thousand souls accounted for. Your delivery is complete.”

The moment the last word leaves his lips, another case of brimstone appears in our room. Ten thousand souls. It’s a drop in the bucket of lives I’ve taken over the years.

She accepts the card back and hands it to me, kicking the door closed with her foot. Neither of us moves, listening intently, waiting for the demon to leave. After a long moment, the sound of his heavy footfalls echoes, fading as he moves down the hall. I reach out, brushing her hair over her shoulder, looking at the mark I’ve left again.

“Well done.”

“We should go,” she says, shifting away from my touch.

I grin at her and drop the sheet, giving her a flash of my naked form before I turn away to get dressed. With my back to her, I pull my leather pants on, but I can feel the heat of her gaze. I glance at her over my shoulder, catching her watching me. I raise a brow, purposely taunting her. She blushes. I chuckle, and she clears her throat before darting into the bathroom to get dressed.

“Asshole,” I hear her mutter before the door slams closed.

My chuckle turns into a full-on laugh, and the sound surprises even me. It doesn’t hold the cruel edge I am used to hearing in my laughter. This sounds almost . . . happy. I knock on the bathroom door. “You have my shirt.”

She cracks the door and throws the shirt at me. I catch it before it falls and lift the shirt to my nose, taking a long inhale of her scent before pulling it back on.

Waving my hand, I send the bottles and the case of brimstone to her house before doing a quick scan of the room, making sure we haven’t left anything behind. She comes out of the bathroom a couple of minutes later, wearing the leather shorts and bandeau. I hold my hand out to her, but she just gives it a withering look.