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RAY
Hot and cold is what I was getting from Ilsa. A fat lot of fucking nothing.
Hell, I didn’t expect her to be fawning over me following our romp, but I thought at least it might have loosened her up a bit, endeared me to her, and let her know that she could trust me. Maybe pushed her to look past the whole demon thing. There were moments where her true self peeked through, a dry sense of humor and wit that she let slip before she brought herself back into line again.
Oops, can’t reveal too much to the demon!
As if I hadn’t already been in her bed.
It was me. She was still afraid of me, and I must admit, it pissed me off somewhat.
If I wanted to kill her, I’d had many chances to do so before now. So what was she so fucking upset about? Because I was a demon? Get over it. I was goddamn adorable.
It clawed at me something fierce that Ilsa was putting up such walls between us. I’m surprised my eye wasn’t twitching from irritation every time I saw her spine straighten. I don’t know how she expected us to work together to sort this out if she wouldn’t talk to me properly and at least try to relax around me.
She’d relaxed last night, that was for goddamn sure. The way her body had gone limp after I teased the orgasm from her, drawing it out until she was a panting mess, was ecstasy in itself. I could’ve done anything with her in those vulnerable moments where she was a limp ragdoll of pleasure.
All I wanted to do was take her there again.
Ilsa didn’t have to love me, but I wouldn’t settle for this icy shit either.
Perhaps she hadn’t figured out how persistent I could be yet.
We walked down an almost deserted street, the sunlight reflecting off every other shop window making me wish I’d snatched a pair of sunglasses from somewhere. On this end of the city, at this time of day, there wasn’t much reason for people to be out and about. Those who had jobs to attend would already be there, and those who didn’t would be sleeping off their ministrations from the previous night.
This entire end of the city smelled like sex, alcohol, danger, and fear, and I loved it.
“So this club—”
“Urban,” Ilsa added.
“Urban, right.” Like it mattered at all what it was called. “What uh… exactly is our plan again?”
“I thought you wanted to wing it?”
There was that curve of her lips again before she’d blink and shake her head slightly, then returned to her deadpan expression. I didn’t like that expression on her—it looked too forced. Despite years of practice, she still hadn’t mastered it naturally, remaining neutral. She was too expressive, a smile belonged on her face, or at least the curve of her lips that hinted at the cheeky nature I knew lay beneath the tough exterior. She’d let it slip around me already with her smart-ass quips and comments. I knew her better than she thought I did.
Keeping a mask on at all times required a lot of work, and it got old pretty fast.
I’d know.
Giggling, I answered, “Yeah, and it sounds like we’re full-blown winging it. We’re literally going to just stroll right up to the club? Doesn’t seem like you at all.”
“I’m simply going to ask to speak to whoever is in charge.”
“And if that doesn’t work?”
“I’m going to tell them who you are.”
I stopped walking for a beat before rushing to catch up with Ilsa as she continued her long strides, every other stride hitching as her leg got the better of her. Her lip would twitch in irritation, but she wouldn’t slow down, making no leeway for herself.
She walked with such purpose with those camo pants and heavy boots. It was sexy as fuck.
“You’re going to turn me in?” I asked, coming up next to her.
As she stopped, I had to come back a few steps after realizing she was no longer walking next to me.
“They know who you are, Ray. They’re going to recognize you anyway,” she said, a hand on her hip.
Then her expression fell.
The words hit her at the same time they did me—it was written all over her face.
“So…” I said, licking my lips, “… we could be walking straight into a death trap? The club could be less of a source of information and more the exact place we shouldn’t be going.”
Ilsa stared at me. I could almost see her mind working. Like this was something which hadn’t occurred to her, and honestly, up until this moment, it hadn’t crossed my mind either. I was so invested in her that I hadn’t thought much about the situation itself. Ilsa was looking at me with something that resembled accusation, as though she blamed me for her not thinking straight. Planning was her thing, not mine. I followed her, assuming she knew what she was doing.
Maybe I scrambled her brain with that orgasm last night.
