Page 7 of Dormeo

Swallowing hard, I freeze as he reaches out a dark finger and trails it oh-so-gently along my collar bone.

“We might look almost like human men, but we’re not. Many of us have… powers… and primal urges that you can’t understand and shouldn’t underestimate.”

Mesmerised by the pulse I see hammering in his neck, I feel my body heat at that tiny little touch.

The sparks inside me begin, the ones I’ve kept hidden my entire life, and I flex my fingers to rid myself of the energy building inside me.

For the first time in my life, it’s not driven by fear but by curiosity.

“What powers do you have?” I’m intrigued, but I shouldn’t be. Why do I care exactly what ways this dangerous being can destroy me?

His intense gaze lifts to mine, briefly, before returning to watch where his finger trails along the delicate skin of my chest.

“I have the power to make you scream,” he murmurs, leaning in so close, his chiselled face is right next to mine.

My heart stutters, and yet it’s not fear that courses through my veins. Because with the drop in tone and the husky edge to his voice, that sounds more like a promise?

Turning to look him in the eye, a swooping sensation low in my belly has my insides coiling tight. He’s so big, so broad, and nothing like the pampered gentleman who preen and posture when they come to visit my father. All airs and graces, good manners and proper behaviour.

“Ladies don’t scream,” I whisper, and yet I wish that wasn’t true.

But this beast couldn’t care less, as his gaze wanders down to where my gown dips in a deep V at my chest, and the hint of cleavage he can see.

“Yes, they do. In the right hands.”

My breath catches, and my fingers tighten in the thin material gathered around me. I’ve heard my sister speak of the pleasure she’s had by the talented fingers of a local sailor. I can only imagine what a man like this could do.

Something tells me he’s not one for empty threats.

Abruptly, he pushes back, blinking hard, his hands halting in mid-air as he shakes himself.

“This isn’t a vacation you’re on, princess,” he warns. “There are demons here that will fuck you, skin you alive and eat you, in no particular order. Don’t leave this room. And... if anything unusual happens, you tell me. Right away. Anything at all.”

Chest heaving and cheeks flushed, I stare up at him while he regards me with suspicion. Not having any desire to encounter anyone else while I’m here, let alone someone who’d enjoy feasting on my flesh, I nod my agreement.

“What if someone comes for me?” I ask, staring out to sea as the demon narrows his eyes at me.

“Nobody will get by me. And if they do, you tell them you’re under Ash’s protection.” He seems to take my apparent doubt in his abilities to protect me personally. Growing visibly in stature, his eyes flash, and I stumble over my next words.

"What if they’re here to rescue me? What would you do to them?"

He sneers, seeming to find the idea amusing.

“Who would come looking for you, princess? Who would be brave enough to come here?” His expression promises violence on anyone who dares. "Your father made a deal. If he has any sense, he won't set foot here again until it's over."

Figuring honesty is the best policy, I prepare to blurt out the truth.

That my father loves to play games, and take a gamble, which is part of the reason for our recent decline in fortune. I’d love to think he’s not stupid enough to try and pull a fast one on these demons, but I’ve seen enough to know he thinks he can outsmart anyone.

“My hand is considered a prize in our realm. The opportunity to rescue me from hell is surely a winning gesture, one my father would have to honour with marriage. And any brave man who accomplished such a fate, well, he’d be a hero, renowned throughout the land.”

Ash stares at me. “And why is marrying you such a prestigious thing? You are beautiful, but there are surely other women as fair.”

For some reason, that comment stings, but I say nothing. Though I suspect Father knows something, Clara is the only person who I’ve told about the power at my fingertips. And I plan to keep it that way.

Why do I seem to care that a demon, whose opinion I should happily dismiss, isn’t falling at my feet the way human men do?

I’m strangely intrigued by him, though. His sheer size is both intimidating and attractive at the same time. And despite his gruff demeanour, I’m not afraid of him. I believe him when he says nobody will get past him.

“Because I have no brothers. My father is rich. And so, whoever gets my hand, will inherit my father’s empire, as well as their own, when he passes.” I shrug. "And men like titles. Being called Lord or Duke seems to appeal to their egos."

Apparently, to some, peerage, a large holding and gold coins are the most important things to consider when picking a partner.

The demon scoffs, his heated gaze blazing a scorching path across my skin.

“Stupid humans. If I were pursuing a mate, money would be the last thing on my mind.” Mischief flashes in his eyes as he moves closer once more. “Beauty, bravery, quick wit and possibly most importantly, sexual compatibility are top of my list. Anyone can make money.”

My fingers itch to reach out and touch his chest, to feel those rippling abs moving beneath my palms.

“Tell me, little human. What do you want in a mate?”

I pause, never having considered that before. Nobody has ever asked me because there was never a question of me having a choice.

My father would pick for me, and the best I can do is try to influence his decision, so that I don't end up with someone completely revolting or cruel.

The idea of choosing is alien to me, but I can’t deny its appeal.

“Strength. Kindness. Someone who actually likes me and wants me for my company, not my title.”

Ash regards me before a smirk pulls those full lips back.

“Well don’t be fooled princess, you won’t find anyone like that down here.

Corrupting you is all that’s on anyone’s mind, including mine.

Don’t trust anyone, there are plenty of snake tongued charmers who’d have you believe they’re on your side. ”

My face flames as I imagine exactly what he's talking about. I have no experience with that. With his body on display before me, thoughts of what it would be like to have his bulk over me flash into my mind, and I squirm under his gaze, my nipples tightening behind the cool fabric.

"Fuck," he mutters, dragging a hand down his chin and increasing the space between us. “You’re walking trouble.”

With that, he turns and snatches a blanket off the couch, dumping the grumbling hellhound onto the ground.

“Put this on until I find you some proper clothes unless you want to find out just how unused to holding back our desires we are around here.”