Page 11 of A Summoned Husband

My hooves moved, taking steady steps toward her and the tragic scent. Her finger swiped at the small wound on her brow and she held it out for inspection. My insides were wound tightly, an uncomfortable pressure pulled in my chest as I quickly closed the space between us and grabbed her hand.

She yelped. Eyes wide, she tried to yank her hand free from me.

What a silly thing.

Her wrist felt entirely too small in my grasp. I needed only to tighten my hold the barest of fractions to reduce her bones to nothing but dust. For a moment, I thought I would. The idea of punishing someone who thought they could summon me with no repercussions thrilled a part of me that was bound and gagged inside me.

Unease took hold of me.

I brought her hand to my lips, ignoring her struggling. Her fingers hovered in the space before them as I breathed on them wondering if I should. I shouldn’t, I knew that, but her fingers were in my mouth before I could stop myself. My tongue slid down their length, sucking every last drop of blood from them. My eyes rolled back as I was filled to the brim with something that I’d never tasted — never felt — before.

What the fuck was going on?

Annoyance battled my lust. Any battle against my lust was something I knew I would lose. It was the very essence of my existence. It was the power moving through my veins, the light that burned in my very soul — as black as it was.

A slap to my chest made me open my eyes.

The female was tensed as she tried to wrestle her wrist from my grasp, her other hand covering the expanse of my chest with useless slaps.

I chuckled.

Then frowned.

I never chuckled.

“What the fuck are you doing, you red bastard?” She yanked again. “Let me go!”

I knew I should, but couldn’t. It was like some unforeseen force held her in my stead and all I could do was stand there and watch her writhe in my hold.

She hit me again, a blow I didn’t even feel as she threw her weight back and tried to get away from me. “Holy fucking shit, you’re strong. I mean… that makes sense. Of course, you’re strong. You’re the devil.”

I chuckled again, a noise that warmed my throat pleasantly. “I am not the devil.”

Her eyes widened.

“Though, I can understand why your simple mind would jump to that conclusion.”

She seemed frozen. All struggling ceased as she stared with an intensity that stirred me.

Then she screamed.

The sound was shrill and unexpected. She didn’t fight, didn’t move at all. She merely stared straight at me and screamed into my chest, her head angled slightly back to look at me. Her eyes locked onto mine, widened further and she screamed again.

Of course.

Throwing my head back, I huffed out an annoyed breath.

“Hush,” I commanded.

She ignored me as her foot kicked at my legs, her hand still swatting my chest as her screaming continued.

How irksome she was. The sound did something to my insides. It coiled them around something, pulled taut and uncomfortable. Each shrill shriek tightened my belly and made me feel nauseous. Pressing the palm of my hand against her brow, I caught her as she went limp. The quiet surrounded me, alone in the night in the dark in this female’s house.

A sigh left me at the silence.

How inconvenient.

“Great. Just wonderful. Summoned to this filthy rock by a female as though I don’t have a million things to do.” I looked down at her, at the way her dark hair curtained over her face as her head fell back over my arm.