Page 35 of You Give Me Fever

"I don't know," he said in a quiet hiss, knowing he would never get away with that.

"He liesss!"

"More than any of us, he's had!"

Clara's sharp eyes pierced Shiver, and he felt it like an arrow aimed straight for his chest.

Her hand dipped between his thighs, curling around his aching shaft.

And….fire.

"Tell me."

"Honey, d-don't make me tell you — you don't want to kno-w," Shiver groaned, breath hitching, as her delicate little hand slid from his base up to his tip, slick with his anticipation for her. How many times in one day had he nearly died? He supposed if his last moments were in her hands, being slowly tormented for information, he could accept that, though he would prefer to keep her from hating him all over again before his demise.

"More than fifty?" Asked Clara, her thumb circling his tip and spreading pearlescent arousal with agony-inducing patience.

The chorus of laughs, hoots, and catcalls from all around them gave her more of an answer than Shiver's stammering.

"More than a hundred? Five hundred?" Clara's chest began to constrict.

Shiver was right; she didn't want the real answer. She wanted to know about his humanity, his favorite flavors or melodies, she wanted to know if he had ever been in love before—but as much as she hated to admit it, those demons surrounding them were right. She had no idea who Shiver was, what he had been doing all these years, or how he really felt about it.

Her hand worked almost as if seeking revenge, gently squeezing as she slowly drew her hand up to his tip before fisting it down hard and fast. Shiver was gasping, trying to focus, trying to answer her properly, all while his useless male brain could only think, Where did she learn that, and who must I kill for teaching it to her?

"You think he caresssss?" The demonic voices crowed around them. The crowd was growing even more agitated as they watched, testing the barrier over and over, eliciting little crackles and hisses.

"Do you remember every grain that sustained you, every pathetic oat? That is a human to usss, mere crumbsss…"

"Shut up, you—m-maggots," Shiver hissed, bucking his hips shamefully into her hand. Seven hells, he knew she was testing him, possibly even angry with him, but she had every centimeter of him aching as if he had been poisoned. Those pretty little short fingers couldn't halfway touch, wrapped around his shadowy cock, but a mere glance at the sight made him dizzy and weak.

"If that's not true, then say it," said Clara through a painfully tight throat, staring at Shiver as her hand moved faster. "Are we crumbs to you? Am I?"

If either of them had their entire wits at their disposal, they might have realized the problem they were creating—looking at each other, touching each other, yes—but also letting in the voices of the demons on all sides, and demons had no talent more true than that of using their voices to twist the truth and amplify the darkness.

“Of course not!” Shiver groaned.

“Of courrssseee yesss!” The chorus called with malicious glee. “Do you think he lovesss you? Why you? You are not special, farm girl!”

The others took up the call, tasting weakness in the hot night air.

“Farm girl! Goat girl! Chicken girl!”

Clara’s hand slipped, and she took a step back, feeling the horror creep under her skin with every sharp word.

She was not special. She was not unique or fascinating or different. She was no great beauty. Her greatest adventure had been moving to the city to write an Agony Aunt column for lonely people, and she had given that up to go back to being a goat girl.

“Clara, please⁠—“

“He begs now that you stop pleasing him,” came a hiss in Clara’s ear, too close—Frenzy, nearly touching her from just beyond the barrier. “See how he will turn on you if he can’t use your pretty little body.”

Shiver looked up with eyes that burned, glowing bright white again with his fury. Though Frenzy was his target, Clara was the one who jumped back, just enough for Frenzy’s hand to break through the barrier and catch her throat.

“I will never do such a thing to you,” he whispered against her ear, pulling her closer to him as the barrier crackled and burned them both, sending off sparks that leapt up to the ceiling. “Let me in, and I will use you in the most delicious ways, and never promise you anything as outlandish as love.”

Tears slipped down Clara’s face as she felt her skin burning, felt that demonic hand pressing against her throat, felt more hands joining Frenzy’s to grab at her dress, her hair, her arms.

“A demon will always put himself first, little human,” said Frenzy, leaning down to scrape his teeth along her soft neck. “You are not the first to be fooled.”