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“Doesn’t feel very fucking good, now does it?” he said.

My shoulders shrank, my waist narrowed, and my hips widened.

Suddenly I wasn’t a mostly naked Brad pinned under Asher, but a topless Lana.

The hunter hadn’t been prepared for that. Nor, for that matter, had I. There were two of us and a whole lot of skin, considering that Asher was still in just his boxer briefs. I felt my cheeks flush, pressed together as we were.

Asher reared back, getting an eyeful.

I growled and thrust my palm up against the cartilage of his nose. He cursed, reflexively releasing me.

I scrambled away from him, my skin scraping against the rocky pavement. Behind me I could hear him recovering.

A hand wrapped around my ankle. “Not so fast, demon.” I pulled my other foot back and kicked at his face. It glanced off of his cheekbone.

Ignoring my efforts, he began dragging me backwards. I clawed at the road, grappling for purchase. I felt one fingernail rip away. Then another. I suppressed my magic even as I cried out. No use healing something that would just reinjure.

“You should’ve killed me when you had the chance,” Asher gritted out.

He dragged me like that all the way back to his vehicle, scratching up the delicate skin of my stomach and chest. More fingernails ripped away. Still I fought him.

Utterly useless. He was at least two heads taller than me and twice my weight.

When we reached his vehicle, Asher pulled me roughly to my feet, and opened the car’s back doors. Once I saw where he intended to put me, I struggled anew.

I couldn’t go back into that cage. There weren’t even windows to look out of.

“Asher, please—”

He tossed me into the back of the car and slammed the doors in my face.

I cried out, less from the physical pain than from the distress of being back in this cage. I could smell my earlier sickness, and it made my nausea rise.

For once I wished I could be hardened like the warrior class of Infernari. Or cold and crafty, like a human. If either were the case, Asher would be dead and I’d be on my way back home.

But I was somehow the worst of both worlds. My spirit too soft. My intentions too transparent.

And I was back in the monster’s clutches.

When Asher swungopen the doors, I huddled in the corner of the cage, my knees pulled up against my breasts.

He folded his arms over his bare chest, and his dark eyes assessed me for several seconds. I glared back at him.

A muscle in Asher’s jaw ticked when he caught sight of my bloodied fingers.

“Why haven’t you healed yourself?” he demanded. I swore I caught the barest hint of concern in his voice.

“What do you care?” I continued to glare at him.

Finally, he broke the staring contest and reached in, wrapping a hand around my wrist.

“Don’t touch me!” I said, trying to jerk my wrist out of his grasp.

He ignored my protests and dragged me out, forcing my hands behind my back.

“I spared your life,” I cried.

“Your point?” he said, pushing me through his house.