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But there were new scars now, scars that had miraculously healed between last night and this morning. The lines were slim, not jagged and torn like the others. I didn’t understand the marks, but they were simple, centered in the wolf’s head I’d tattooed on my chest. The new scars hadn’t disfigured the art at all. They flowed with it.
I frowned, tracing my fingers along the pale unfamiliar lines. I’d let a demon take a knife to my skin. I wasn’t even sure how I’d been able to bear it, how I’d been brave enough to kneel there and accept it. But I’d done it, and that brought a wave of relief crashing over me. I’d faced the thing I feared. I’d relived one of my greatest terrors and…
I was okay. I was alive.
I didn’t feel the same nausea seeing these scars as I had when I looked at the old ones. I’d chosen them, not unlike my tattoos. They were strange, but they were mine.
I splashed cold water on my face before I searched the room for my clothes and weapons. But there was nothing in the room that belonged to me, and there were no clothes in any of the drawers. Cursing, I snatched the white sheet off the bed and wrapped it around myself, tucking it in so I could move with my hands free before I eased open the bedroom door.
The hallway extended to the left, and from the landing, I had a view down to the lower floor over the wooden railing. Gray light filtered through large windows above the entry door below, giving me a view of a dirt yard and distant trees. I crept down the stairs, and found myself in a hall that branched off into the kitchen on the left, and the living room ahead. I slipped into the kitchen, found it empty, and took the largest knife from the block on the countertop. I wasn’t about to walk around a strange house unarmed.
The living room was spacious, with an L-shaped couch in the middle of the space. The carpet felt clean and soft under my toes. The far wall was glass, with a view of the dock extending into the lake just down the back steps. It was beautiful, the kind of view people dreamed of having.
Surely this wasn’tZane’shouse. Did demons have houses? Did theyneedthem?
Something moved behind me, reflected in the glass over my shoulder. I didn’t move, but I tightened my grip on the knife. The large, dark form moved silently, coming closer…closer —
I spun around, slamming the knife down. The blade was sharp, and it sunk deep, all the way up to the hilt in the bare, tattooed chest in front of me.
Oh...shit…
Zane tsked, looking down at the knife, then slowly back up to me as I took a step back, and then another.
“Juniper, oh,Juniper.” He sighed, grasped the knife, and jerked it free from his flesh. Blood dripped along the blade, but the wound it left behind didn’t bleed. He waved the knife at me, smiling tightly. “Playtime is over, little wolf. That hurt, you know.”
“Don’t sneak up on me,” I said, my back nearly pressed against the glass. “You scared me.”
His eyes widened pointedly. “Yes, that’s what we demons do. We sneak and scare.”
“Then you’re going to keep getting stabbed.”
He rolled his eyes. He was wearing joggers low on his hips, the black band of his briefs barely visible above them. His chest rippled with muscles, every inch of skin covered in ink. Images of men and women bound in shackles and rope, suspended, gagged — it was practically pornographic, and not just because of the art.
The stab wound wasn’t even visible anymore.
“Mm, you have to remember something about threatening me.” He stepped closer. I had nowhere to run; I could only lift my chin defiantly, staring him down as he caressed the blade along my cheek. “Pain turns me on. Threats turn me on. So it sounds like you’re flirting with me.” He smirked. “Be good, unless your intention is to make me treat you like you’re very, very bad.”
I gulped. My pussy seemed to think his words were good enough to get all hot and clenched over. I squeezed my thighs together, but his smile widened. Goddamn it, he couldsmellme. I couldn’t even hide my own irrational arousal from him.
I wanted my knife back. I may have given him my soul, but being around him, unarmed, was unnerving. “Where are my clothes?”
“They’re clean and drying. They should be ready soon.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You...washedmy clothes? You do laundry?”
“Unfortunately, human society dictates that I’m required to put clothing upon this fleshy body,” he said. “So yes, I do laundry. Did you think demons magically stay clean?”
I opened my mouth several times, at a loss for words. “I don’t know a goddamn thing about demons. I thought you all just…” I waved my hands around. “Disappeared into the air or something when you’re not chasing humans through the woods.”
He laughed, shaking his head as he turned away and carried the knife back toward the kitchen. I followed, because I didn’t know what else to do. “No, little wolf, we don’t just disappear. If we’re on Earth, we’re staying in our physical form the majority of the time. Floating around Earth as just spiritual energy is a terrible idea. It’ll get you all mixed up.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant, but I didn’t question it. He set the knife in the sink and leaned back on the counter, the veins in his muscular arms creating drool-worthy lines beneath his skin as he tapped his claws against the cabinets.
Drool-worthy? Oh God, had my brain really gone there?
The demon smirked, as if he could read my ludicrous thoughts. “Are you hungry?”
Yes, I was, in more than one sense of the word. “What’s it matter to you?”
