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A shudder went up my spine at the subtle slick of the blade being pulled through flesh, and I wasn’t able to stop myself from jumping slightly when it clattered as she tossed it to the side. Following its trail, my fingers twitched as it slid under the bar.
Dammit.
She approached me, those golden eyes flashing dangerously, and when I almost tripped over a fallen chair while backing away from her, her hand shot out and grabbed me, holding me up.
I had seen a lot, but the look in her eyes and the danger she radiated sent a shiver down my spine. My skin burned where she touched me, but not a burn I wanted to recoil from, a pleasant warmth making me ache for more. A flash reel of my previous partners ran through my mind. Yeah, I had chosen some incredibly poor partners in the past, but looking into her eyes, I knew she’d be the biggest mistake I could make. She was strong, fast, and capable—everything I used to be and was no longer. Beyond that, there was a physical attraction to her interfering with my judgment. I shouldn’t be admiring her on any level. Not only was what she was doing wrong, but she was wrong.
And unnatural.
Demon.
My body was responding to her touch. That warmth flared under her fingers and singed me, sending a wave of fire through my body.
Gripping my arm, she gave it a slight squeeze, perhaps as a reminder of the power she held within her.
Maybe as a warning not to try stabbing her again.
I couldn’t guarantee it.
Her eyes flashed again when she caught the defiance in mine. Hell, I shouldn’t even be here. Why did I even think I could take her down? She was strength and grace, and obviously didn’t play by the same rules as the rest of us.
No, I had to do something. I couldn’t stomach the idea of innocent people being hurt. If someone was hurt, and I could’ve stopped it but instead chose to do nothing, it would make me equally to blame as the offending party. I don’t think my heart could take it. So I had to try. I was right to come here, right to track her down. While I’d never forgive myself if I failed, I think I’d simply shut down completely if I had never tried at all.
Although her victims were hardly innocent themselves, the potential was always there for collateral damage.
Unacceptable.
I couldn’t allow it and bared my teeth as I yanked my arm from her grip.
“Silver doesn’t kill demons,” she said, eyeing the patch of blood on her pants before mumbling, “Still hurts like a fucking bitch, though.” Before I could take advantage of her momentary distraction, she grabbed my face, squeezing my cheeks together painfully. While she’d let my arm go when I shook her off, she hadn’t shown the slightest bit of concern at touching me again. It was as though she knew she was stronger than me.
Dammit, of course, she knew she was stronger than me.
I was no threat to her.
She was so close, her hands hot against my skin, and she smelled amazing.
Where the fuck did that thought come from?
My legs weakened, and fuck, I wanted to lean into her touch, even though it was rough and painful. I understood now what that person online meant when they said oozed sexual prowess—it was in the air all around her. Incredible.
Her perfect lips curved as she grinned. “Am I turning you on? A happy side effect of being a demon.” As she flicked her hair over her shoulder, the ends of it hit me in the face. I’m certain it was on purpose, and my anger flared, crushing down the throbbing sensation between my legs. “We’re sexual beings, after all. Any other time, I’d take you to places you never dreamed of.” I pulled a face, and she smirked. “Now,” she said, turning my head until we were eye to eye, “How did you know what I was?”
“Your eyes.”
She let my face go, stepped away from me, and paced the bar as I rubbed my cheeks. “That’s fucking it? You saw my real eyes?”
“And your skin… it looked like black ink.”
“How did you know it wasn’t just your imagination?”
“I know what I saw.”
Scoffing again, she placed her hands on her hips and studied me, but after the frown evaporated, she simply looked pleased. “Well, I must say, I’m impressed. Most people brush it off and assume they imagined it.”
The anger bubbled in my stomach—at her, at my failure to stop her, and my naïveté in assuming something I read on the internet would actually help me stop a demon.
“You need to stop all this shit,” I said, waving my arm at the broken remains of the furniture littering the bar. “Before someone innocent gets hurt.”
Her face darkened, and in the time it took me to blink, she was in front of me again, her hand at my throat. “Who are you to say whose innocent?”
“Who are you?” I choked out, somehow finding the strength past my fear to raise an arm and press a finger to her chest. “Stop all this, now.”
Her fingers tightened around my throat. “You know what I am, you should be more afraid. You think I can’t feel the conflicting emotions in you? You think I can’t sense you’re battling arousal and fury?” My face flushed with embarrassment or anger, or possibly both, and she laughed again. “I can feel your pulse under my fingers. You know of my strength. I could puncture your skin, drink your blood… drain you.”
I shuddered, yet something about her words flared warmth between my legs again. Her gaze shot down before back to my face. This was humiliating, and my body acted outside of the consent of my mind. She had said being turned-on in her presence was a side effect of her being a demon, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. This resulted only in increasing my anger toward her. I was nothing more than a pathetic human, a bag of hormones that responded to her nature and instinct.
Earlier, I had thought I wouldn’t want her to end up in the hands of those who wanted to kill her based on some flimsy evidence she had some level of integrity.
But now I had met her, she was simply infuriating.
Cheeky bitch. All that power and not a care in the fucking world.
Not hours ago, I had also questioned myself—why was I so ready to admit she wasn’t human? The last thing humans needed was something else out there that couldn’t be controlled or destroyed. Was I so desperate for purpose since my discharge I’d latch on to the flimsiest proof of a supernatural being?
No. I knew the truth.
There were memories, things I had seen and had told no one, things I now knew were true. Despite the force with which I had answered, I know what I saw when she had questioned me, the truth was I had seen it before, and like apparently many before me, I had dismissed it, telling myself it must have been my imagination. It must have been a trick of the light. It couldn’t possibly have been real because eyes don’t do that—eyes don’t turn yellow.
But knowing what I know now, through research and my interactions with this woman—demon—perhaps when I had seen those eyes change while deployed, it had been real. Because the more I considered it, the more it was so painfully obvious war was the perfect hiding place for demons.
So, when I saw her eyes the first time, I didn’t question it because I had already spent too long questioning, and I knew myself better.
I know what I saw. Both times.
“Let me go,” I hissed through clenched teeth, grabbing her wrist where her hand met my neck and snatching at her other arm.
She studied me for a moment longer. Her eyes flickered from my hands, resting firmly on hers before back to darting between my eyes. Slowly, she dropped her fingers from my neck, letting them graze my skin before she finally let me go.
We stared at each other for a beat, and she tilted her head. “Just stay out of my way,” she said, and before I could respond, she had disappeared into the night.
