Page 16 of Paramour of Sin

Zane’s hands.

Chapter Five

Zane

In all my many thousands of years, I’d never met a student like Guinevere. She maintained an innocent air about her that didn’t match her true nature. Where most succubi were lethally seductive, she was disarmingly charming.

Something she demonstrated now by going up onto her bare toes to try to reach something in a cupboard that was far too tall for her.

I leaned against the doorjamb, admiring the view of her exposed legs in that sinfully short jean skirt. She’d paired it with a red halter top, one I could remove with the flick of a wrist.

My dick twitched to life, not at all deterred by the twelve hours I’d spent in bed with Lord Zebulon. Perks of being an incubus—I could fuck all day, every day.

Just like Guinevere.

She hadn’t noticed my presence yet, her focus on whatever dessert she was making in her kitchen. If she didn’t want demons to sneak up on her, then she should lock her front door.

Or maybe I should have knocked.

The point was moot since I’d already entered and made myself at home. I’d waited until Evangeline and Xai had left with Gleason. They were likely off to tend to Nephilim matters, as I’d heard a rumor Evangeline was going to take over their training. Heaven help them all, literally it seemed.

Guinevere set her cake pan on the counter, then hummed an alluring little tune under her breath as she went back to beating whatever deliciousness she’d poured into the mixing bowl. The subtle hint of cinnamon and brown sugar in the air had me wondering if it was a coffee cake. She always did have a sweet tooth. As did I every time I looked at her.

Alas, I hid it behind a mask of indifference and cleared my throat just as she started to pour the mixture into the pan. I was an ass like that.

She yelped and nearly dropped the bowl, her stunning cerulean eyes flashing to mine. “Zane!” It came out as an accusation and a surprise somehow mingled together. Definitely a tone I deserved.

“Guinevere,” I returned, my voice flat. “Eating your feelings?”

She scowled and flipped her long dark hair over her shoulder before spinning back around to continue pouring the batter into her pan.

I suppressed a grin at her adorable huff. Riling her up was always so much fun. I just wished I could actually do something about it after the fact. Alas, rules were rules.

“Lord Zebulon sent me to help with your feedings,” I said, stating the obvious since she didn’t seem at all interested in small talk. Not that I blamed her. I wasn’t exactly kind to her.

“Of course he did,” she muttered. “I promised I would call you when I needed to feed. Which isn’t today.”

“Because you killed your last conquests?” I asked, purposely goading her. It just came naturally to me, similar to the flush creeping up her neck.

“I didn’t kill them,” she said through her teeth.

“That’s not what the crime scene indicates,” I pointed out.

Guinevere growled in response, the sound going straight to my groin. Would she make that delectable noise when I fucked her from behind? Or perhaps she’d growl around my cock while I plunged deep into her throat? Mmm, both were fantasies I might entertain later.

“I’ve called all my mistakes in.” She finished spreading out her cake batter.

“Except the last two.” I really did need to stop pushing her, but a verbal sparring suited my mood for the day, and Guinevere could play better than anyone I knew.

She whirled around to face me, her cerulean irises glowing like liquid pools of blue fire. “Because I didn’t kill them,” she repeated. “I have a control problem, yes. But I’m notnaïveor achild. I know how to hide my accidental kills. And I’ve called all of them in, so why the hell would I stop now?”

My eyebrow rose. “That was a rather heated reply.” And not at all what I anticipated. “What happened to my little acquiescent succubus?” Because the woman before me was all confidence and fury, and I absolutely liked this development.

“She grew up,” Guinevere snapped in an uncharacteristic display of true anger. Usually my goading resulted in irritation or hurt—the latter being my least favorite of responses. I knew how she felt about me. Which was exactly why I kept pushing her away. A relationship between us couldn’t happen.

“Guinevere—”

“Just don’t,” she interjected. “I don’t want a lecture. I don’t want you to offer to supervise my feeding. I don’t want anything right now other than to enjoy my coffee cake in peace and quiet and not think about the fact that I’m essentially being babysat for something I didn’t do.”