Page 87 of Demon Bound

“You were alone in that fortress with the man who you loved, who hated you. If you’d had anyone else to help you, you would not have turned to me for aid.”

He was right.

Was it true that the unhappiness had never left her? Was it trapped inside her, marking her like a scar? Would it ever go away?

She put a hand to his sternum and idly slid her fingers down his body, watching his chest rise and fall heavily beneath her fingers.

“Have you ever been intimate with someone just… for fun?” she asked. “Not for feeding?”

“…No. But I have enjoyed spending the nights beside you.”

She smiled at him. She didn’t often hear him talk about enjoying things. Bringing him out of his shell and bringing him happiness felt like a herculean accomplishment.

She grazed her lips against his cheek, and he leaned into the touch.

“I like it when you touch me like that,” he said, his voice almost inaudible, as if it had taken some effort to say it.

“Like what?”

“Softly.”

She recalled the rough, almost animalistic way he’d taken her last time. That hadn’t been very soft at all. Not that she’d minded. “Do you remember when you told me never to touch you?” she asked.

“Yes.” He thought for another long moment, his hand rising to cup hers. “I like… how gentle you are. No one else has ever touched me the way you do. I had never seen anyone touch other people like that before I came here.” He looked faintly amused. “You are so unlike me.”

“We’re not so different.”

She wanted to take her time touching him. She wanted to run her hands over every part of his hard, smooth skin, exploring his entire body one bit at a time, watching the subtle ways he responded with little twitches or breaths.

He was incredibly seductive when he wanted to be, and yet she wondered if it had never occurred to him that someone might long to touch him, not just to be touchedbyhim.

She was going to take her time. Sleep could wait. Feeding could wait. She kissed him, then pushed on his chest with both hands, but he didn’t move.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Lie back.”

He gave her a careful look. Then he slowly leaned back on his elbows.

“All the way,” Raiya said.

There was another noticeable hesitation before he did as she asked. He tilted back until his head touched the threadbare blanket that made up the base of their bed, then stared up at the ceiling, waiting for her to show him what came next. He looked a bit like a prisoner awaiting execution.

“Are you all right?”

His eyes flicked toward hers. “Yes.”

She placed herself on his waist, straddling him. “Are you sure?”

His hands settled on her waist, just above the flare of her hips. “I will do whatever you like.” His hands gave her a careful, loving squeeze.

Her voice kept getting quieter, as if to match the gentleness of her touch. “I’m honored. But I don’t want you to do anything. Just let me touch you.” She leaned forward, pressing a barely-there kiss to his cheek, brushing the corner of his beautiful lips.

He was unnaturally perfect, inhuman, a being made of magic—and yet sometimes, he seemed so perfectly mortal. Like now,as she weaved her hand through his hair, brushing the spot behind his horns, and he arched slightly, his breath catching. When she rubbed him there, he hissed a pleased sigh.

There was a soft spot hiding there. Who would’ve guessed that his horns were guarding something sensitive?

As she touched him, he didn’t moan or say any appreciative words, even though his body betrayed his enjoyment. It didn’t seem like he was trying to hide it—more like he didn’t know how or when to express pleasure.