Page 78 of A Hunt Bound in Blood

If I’d wanted to let my fears win, his challenge made it impossible. “Do your worst, demon.”

I felt his smile against my neck and then all my awareness shifted to his fingers. And how they barely touched me at all. Feather-light, they drifted across my breasts and down my stomach, tripping over my hip bones and travelling up my side. They cut across my body towards him, brushing so briefly and so gently against my tightening nipples I could have believed I’d imagined them, and then they trailed down my other side.

A shiver ran along my spine, and my goosebumps spread even while my blood warmed and my fangs cut into my bottom lip. Just as he’d done last night, he was teasing me. Well, this time I refused to beg. Not until he’d earned it.

He chuckled again, the sound as rich as syrup. “You’re fighting me, Buttons. This isn’t proving me wrong at all. Relax.” The order came as a whisper, and it sent sparks shooting from my ear down between my legs. I rolled my lips together to keep myself quiet.

“How difficult your life must be,” he drawled as his slowly moving fingers dipped over my stomach and ran down the outside of my left leg, “to be constantly on edge. Every single day, from the moment you wake up to the moment you go to sleep. Always keeping people at a distance. Never dropping your guard. You must be exhausted.”

He was trying to get into my head, worm his way through every defence I’d built around myself from the time I was old enough to know I needed them. Despite the desire pooling within me, the muscles around my spine bunched up, reinforcing those barriers. Not a conscious decision, but an instinctive response to the threat.

Cammon clucked his tongue in disapproval, and his touch drifted from the outside of my thigh to the inside before it hopped over to my other leg, inside to outside. “If you don’t want to give in, mage, you can always give up. I’ll still fuck you, and we’ll both enjoy it. We’ll satisfy that itch and move on.” He pressed his hips against the outside of my thigh, and I felt exactly how great that itch was for him. I wanted nothing more than to scratch it.

And I could. He’d said it. I could rip off this blindfold, and we could enjoy a repeat of the other night. My fingers crept towards the knot at the back of my head.

“Or,” he continued, and my hands stilled, “you could give this an actual try. You could choose to let me in. Choose to drop your guard. In being the one to choose, the control is still yours, and in giving up that control… I think the pleasure would be greater than anything you’ve ever experienced.”

I snorted, though it carried little heat. “Now whose ego is talking?”

“It has nothing to do with ego.” His nose brushed my jawline. “Have you ever—even once in your life—enjoyed pure, unadulterated, unrestrained passion? Or has every good thing you’ve ever had been constrained by your fear of letting yourself go?”

Suddenly my throat felt thick, and behind the blindfold, my eyes stung. My heartbeat sped up, my stomach twisted into knots. I could have cursed him for his fucking insight. A fucking demon reading his victim and manipulating her emotions to get some delicious fucking feast. I didn’t want to play this game anymore.

I dropped my hands to pull away from him, and his palm left my leg to cup my face, his calloused thumb brushing my cheek where a tear had slipped out from under the silk.

“Hey.” There was no triumph in his voice. If anything, I had to call it pained understanding. Sympathy, if not pity, and I tried to turn away, not wanting it. His hold on me, gentle but firm, kept me in place. The bastard wouldn’t let me hide. “You had your reasons, my goddess of a vampire. I would never judge you, never mock you, for doing whatever was necessary to survive. And you have. Beautifully. What I’m saying is that you don’t have to survive with me. I won’t let anything happen to you. You’re safe.”

On the contrary, I’d never felt more in danger.

My brain fought to tune out his words; my body pleaded with me to listen. And my heart—my poor heart was caught in the middle, compressed by such turmoil that I didn’t know if I wanted to scream, attack, or run. Maybe all three. I lay there unmoving, muscles stiff, frozen. I could barely take a full breath—even my lungs were tight.

And Cammon lay beside me, his chest pressed against my side, his breathing steady, saying not a word. Waiting. Being so patient for me to decide if I wanted to let myself be governed by my fears or if I was ready to accept that—for the first time in my life—I didn’t have to be afraid.

I’d believed I’d let myself go the other night. In sleeping with him, in allowing myself to indulge that much, I’d been so fucking proud of myself.

But he’d seen what I hadn’t. That even while I’d enjoyed our time together—and gods, had I enjoyed myself—I’d only let a small piece of me play. It had been a toe in the water. A romp through an enclosed park.

He was asking me to throw myself into the river, to run out the gates into the open, unprotected fields.

To trust him that much further.

This demon I’d known for less than two weeks.

My heart thrashed against my ribs, each beat so painful my muscles spasmed. Or maybe that was me holding back the panicked sobs that threatened to take hold.

Cammon’s warm hand stroked down my arm, following a soothing up-down pattern as he eased closer to my hand, and I realized I’d squeezed my fingers into fists so tight my nails had sliced deep into my palms.

I could choose to ease my grip.

I could choose to relax my hands.

My choice.

Safe.

With one deep, daring inhale, I did exactly that. I unfurled my fingers and let them rest on the ground beside me. My arms followed.

I could stop there. If it was my decision, I could remove the blindfold and we’d never have to talk about this again.