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“I’m not your servant.”
But for a split second, I think he wanted to laugh at me. This connection might not be worth survival. I grimaced and chewed my bottom lip. The law of unintended consequences struck again.
“Fine,” he agreed. “You’re not my servant. At least, not in the demon-sense, if that’s what you’re thinking. I don’t give out my marks like candy, either. I had to give you some of my power, my life-force to heal you so quickly. It makes me vulnerable. If you die, I might die, too. Remember that when you’re picking fights with shifters who are bigger than you.”
“Fine.” I open my mouth to add a retort but shut it with a snap. He had just offered me a concession, which would piss him off if I threw it in his face.
His eyes widened. “What did you want to ask?”
I cocked my head.
“Can I get some of that whiskey?”
He sighed and nodded his head.
“But only if you do something for me, Miss Not-My-Servant.”
I glanced at the whiskey bottle, and from the label, the liquor was fifty years old and had to be as smooth as fuck.
“What do I get to do for you?”
He grinned, and his eyes transformed from honey-flecked brown to nearly red.
“You will steal for me.”
9
I stared at Thorn, outraged.
Who the hell did he think he was? A girl can only be pushed so far, and this time he knocked me right out of the park.
“No fucking way,” I said.
He blinked as if he had never heard the word “no.” Which, come to think of his sexy ass, he probably hadn’t.
“What?” he said in a low snarl.
“That’s the third time you called me a thief, and it’s the fucking last. I seek. I retrieve, but I do not steal.”
Thorn’s red eyes bore into me as if he wanted to shred the flesh from my bones.
“But that’s what you do, thieving, isn’t it?” he growled. His eyes turned blood red, and his fingernails seemed to grow into dark, pointed tips. I’ve had enough of grown paranormal men and their temper tantrums. I whirled, ready to storm from the room.
Then get two steps before every muscle refuses to move.
Just stopped working as they were made of stone.
What the ever-loving fuck? I strained to walk forward like a fly caught in amber, struggling against a weird invisible superglue. My body trembled from the effort while sweat formed on my brow. But I could not move, at least to the door.
But I found I could whirl toward Thorn, who stood over his pricey mahogany desk, leaning forward on his arms with his fingers outstretched and liquid gathering on his forehead. Only wasn’t sweat glistening there, but honest-to-God blood, and it hit me this was proof positive that though Thorn looked like a sex-on-a-stick-human, he wasn’t.
Despite my predicament, it was fun watching Thorn lose his arrogant demeanor because I stripped him of it.
We met eye-to-eye, caught in each other’s gaze, neither willing to give in. In this windowless room, the wind-rushing noise of a violent tornado filled my ears, and an inexorable pull forward threatened to drag me toward Thorn. Still, as my teeth chattered, I stared at Thorn because I’ll be damned if I gave in to him one more time.
“Boss?”
Behind me, Casey’s voice sounded like it was a million miles away, but Thorn’s head snapped up, and the wind-rushing noise stopped.
