Page 36 of Demon's Bane

Again, she runs nervous fingers through her hair, and my own ache to mirror the movement, to sink into that glorious black crown of curls and wrap them around my fist, tip her head back and—

“Ok. Great. I’ll just… I guess I’ll just hop in the shower, then.”

I nod again.

We stand there for a few more awkward, silent moments before she gives her head another small shake and brushes past me and down the hall. The bathing chamber door closes behind her with a soft snick.

Alone in the front room, I cross to the kitchen and sink into one of the wooden chairs at the small table set against the wall. I should probably retire for the evening, retreat to my small bedchamber and uselessly try to chase away the dreams I already know will plague me tonight. Dreams of my beautiful mate and the desire she so staunchly denies, of her intoxicating scent, of the flush of blood beneath her skin turning it such a delectable shade of pink.

But I can't make myself move. In the silence, I sit and replay the last few minutes over and over in my mind.

At least until the creak of a floorboard in the hallway catches my attention.

Joan walks slowly into the room, something clutched in her palm. She reaches where I’m sitting and lays her hand flat on the table, the muffled sound of stone hitting wood beneath her palm.

“You don’t have to wear it when you’re in the apartment,” she says softly. “If you don’t want to, I… I don’t mind.”

The obsidian ring, which I left on the counter in the bathing chamber, sits on the table between us.

“I’m sorry,” Joan continues. “Not just for staring at you like that, but for making you keep it on all the time in the first place. I shouldn’t have.”

A peace offering. An acceptance of my true form here in her most private space.

My chest tightens painfully, and it takes me a moment to meet her soft brown gaze.

“Just, you know, maybe keep the curtains closed if you do. Don’t want to start any kind of mass hysteria or have the FBI showing up at my door.”

“Alright,” I say with a chuckle, not fully understanding her words, but amused nonetheless.

Joan studies me for a few heartbeats more. Her eyes travel from my horns to the curve of my wing, across the tattoos I’vebeen collecting since I was little more than a youth, down to my towel-clad lap, though she looks quickly away from there. Her gaze meets mine, and though she still has a faint flush of embarrassment on her cheeks, there’s something else in her expression, too. Something warm and open and curious. Something that doesn’t look at me and see a monster.

Enough. It’s enough.

“Okay, then,” she says softly. “Well. I guess I’ll just…”

Her words trail off, and another little pulse of pink climbs her cheeks before she turns and scurries back toward the bathing chamber.

As soon as the shower starts up, I head for my room. Not bothering to put on the glamour and sleep in the false set of clothes it comes with, and not interested in sleeping in the pants and tunic I came to this realm in, I sprawl naked onto the futon and listen.

I listen to the shower and the opening and closing of cupboards and drawers as she does what she needs to get ready for bed. I hear her finish up and pad down the hallway, trying to convince myself her steps don’t slow imperceptibly as they pass my door before they continue on into her room.

10

Joan

Lying in bed just before dawn, hazy memories of last night—or was it this morning? Fuck, I need to get more sleep—drift through my mind.

Rhett’s incredible body, his horns and wings, his tail, that swell of flesh at the base of his cock.

The way he was looking at me, with so much burning intensity in his red eyes. Dark and hungry, like he would have enjoyed getting a taste of me.

My hand drifts down under the covers, over the curve of my belly, lower, until I reach the waistband of my…

With a sharp breath through my nose, I snap my hand back up.

What did Rhett say last night?

I can smell you, witch, perfuming the air with your delectable arousal.