AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Then that’s the hill I die on. But I’m not taking it back.”
Caelan hesitates, his fingers twitching on the hilt of his knife. “Only a goddamn human could…” he mutters to himself. He lets the knife slip from his grip, falling back to the covers, and he takes my face between his hands and kisses me instead.
It’s immediately deep, messy, and thorough, so very, very thorough. Caelan’s tongue maps out every inch of my mouth, savoring every sensitive spot until I’m trembling for him. His hand holds me softly by the throat. I’m certain he can feel my fluttering heartbeat.
I’m pinned beneath him, wrists bound above my head, almost entirely naked, apart from a pair of lacy panties that never really covered that much to start with, and he’s still fully dressed. I’m so vulnerable for him like this, helpless, but that thrills me rather than scares me. Mostly.
It’s also incredibly frustrating because I want more than anything to wrap my arms around him, but all I can do is tug at my restraints and squirm as he makes good on his promise from earlier to fuck my mouth with his tongue.
“Caelan,” I whine.
He laughs against my lips and finally pulls away, smirking at my glazed eyes and flushed face.
I’m struggling to remember how to think because,damn, there was something important I meant to say. I know there was, but he’s kind of broken my brain a little.
I swallow. “Wow. Okay.” I pause again, panting. “What the hell was all that about?”
Caelan raises an eyebrow. “It’s fun to kiss you?”
“Before that. The bit about threatening to murder me.”
His expression sours, and I regret bringing it back up when Caelan’s already provided such a lovely distraction. But itwaskind of an asshole move, and I don’t feel like letting that kind of shit fly, demon or not.
“You’retoocute. You make me feel things, and I don’t fuckin’ like it,” he says, almost pouting.
I stare at him for a long moment, letting that sink in.
He’s—
He’s an idiot, oh my God. I laugh, and it sets my slightly frayed nerves at ease. It’s the same as when I was watching him with Elias. Caelan is utterly useless at admitting he likes someone without being antagonistic about it.
Demons probably aren’t meant tolikepeople, I suppose. Does he think it’ll ruin his image or something?
Idiot. But I adore him.
Then there’s the other implication of his statement. That hedoeslike me, feels something for me, and that makes my heart skip a beat. I’m not stupid. I know he doesn’t care as deeply as I do. I don’t know if he can. There might be limits to how much a demon can feel.
Are Elias and Caelan even capable of feeling love the same way as humans?
It doesn’t matter. He makes it sound as though he’s attached to me on some level, and I’ll take it.
My chest feels tight at the thought, but trying to work through the too-complicated, thorny mess that is how much I’m attached tothemin return is not what I want to deal with right now. Not when I’m horny and mostly naked and tied up beneath him. So, I play it off.
“Jesus. Don’t try and scare people like that because you don’t want to acknowledge maybe youlikesomeone, you emotionally constipated, demonic trash fucker.”
Caelan looks so offended, not at the insult so much as the fact I insulted him at all, even so blatantly jokingly, that I break down into a fit of giggles.
“Oh, you are so gonna get it,” he growls out, but it’s back to being playful rather than any kind of serious threat. He looms over me, hands braced on either side of my shoulders, and I grin up at him with no repentance for calling him names.
Staring up at him like this, I want to kiss him again. I want to tangle my hands in his hair, pull him down, and makeout with him until I’m a needy mess.
The best I can do with my hands tied is lean up far enough to press my lips sweetly against his. Then I trail my mouth down to his neck and press a kiss there as well.
He has a scar there. I noticed he had a lot last time, but I never really got the opportunity to explore. Most of them are on his torso, covered by his shirt, but the one on his throat and a few along his arms are visible.
I wonder how he got them. Probably another one of those things they’d say isn’t relevant for me to know.
Now isn’t the time to ask about it, either. So instead, I kiss over the top of the scar, trailing my tongue along the length of it. It stretches along the side of his throat, diagonal and jagged as if it was torn by a claw, reaching up almost to the corner of his jaw.
