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I groaned and squeezed the bridge of my nose with my fingers. “Could we not get into a philosophical discussion about my career choice tonight?”
He lifted a hand and stroked my cheek with the back of his fingers. “Of course, dear one. I would gladly distract you from such banal thoughts.”
I leaned into the caress without realizing it at first. I thought briefly about pulling away, but I had to admit that it felt nice. “Sorry. The last few weeks have been kinda shitty.”
He leaned forward and kissed me lightly. “And I made it no better by allowing you to feel my anger. I regret that I did so.”
I looked up at him. He was beautiful and alluring but, more than that, I realized I was beginning to enjoy his dream visits. He was interesting and intelligent, and he seemed to understand me on a level that I doubted anyone else would ever approach. Even knowing how powerful he was and what he was capable of, I had to admit that I was starting to like him just a little. And though I was aware how naive it was, I couldn’t help but cling to the thin belief that I held some sort of appeal for him as well—an appeal beyond that of simply being a means to gain access to this sphere.
“Can you tell me what it was that made you so angry?” I asked.
“It is a matter that I will deal with,” he said in a tone that made it clear he had no intention of elaborating further. He kissed me again, not so lightly this time. “Do not worry yourself with this,” he murmured against my lips as he deftly slipped my shirt over my head, barely breaking the contact with my lips at all. A moan escaped me and I leaned into him as he deepened the kiss. His fingers moved deliciously against my skin as heat flushed through me.
But I had too many questions running through my head to enjoy the moment properly. I struggled out of his thrall and pulled reluctantly away from his kiss. He straightened and regarded me, smiling. “Is there aught wrong, dearest?”
“No, it’s just … You said you would deal with whatever it was yourself, but if it has something to do with my case I need to know.”
He laughed, tipping his head back. “Oh, my dear Kara, you never fail to impress me! Such dedication to your calling.” Then his smile took on a harder edge. “How is it that you were injured?”
I pulled the comforter closer around me, aware that he’d avoided giving me any information. “A demon—a kehza—attacked us,” I said. “But it wasn’t trying to kill us. I mean, it could have taken us out several times, and I suffered only a cut on my shoulder. And, to be honest, I think that was an accident as well. It was almost like I ran into him.”
His lip curled in an echo of a snarl. “You have the taint about you of an arcane attack. This angers me.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly thrilled that it happened either.”
He shook his head, hair cascading in silken perfection with the movement. “A higher demon would have known not to touch you.”
I blinked at him. “Huh? Why?”
“A syraza or reyza would have been able to sense my touch on you and would have known that you are not for any other to affect.”
I stared at him. “Wait. What? You’ve branded me or something?”
He brushed his fingers across my hair. “You are mine, Kara. I will not tolerate another molesting you.”
“What?” I screeched. “Yours? Only you can molest me?”
But the room was empty.
The door slammed open and Ryan stood framed in the doorway. “Kara! What’s wrong?”
I yelped and crossed my arms over my chest, blinking at him stupidly. “Um … am I awake?”
Ryan looked at me oddly. “You yelled something unintelligible, so I came in to see what was wrong. So, tell me, what’s wrong?”
I had to have been asleep if Rhyzkahl had been here. I glanced down and breathed a deep sigh of relief, lowering my arms. I was still wearing my shirt. “Nothing. It was just a dream.” Just a dream. Ha. Stop being stupid, I berated myself. Stop finding things to like about him.
I could see him tense. “What kind of dream? Was it a demon dream?”
I ran my fingers through my hair. “It was a Demonic Lord dream, yeah.” Then I froze, arm still raised. “What the hell?”
He stepped into the room. “What is it?”
I flexed my arm, then rolled my shoulder, reaching up with my other hand to feel the bandage.
“What is it?” he repeated, tone growing urgent.
I peeled the bandage off and felt the skin beneath it. “It doesn’t hurt.”
