Page 66 of Paramour of Sin

And yet he also hadn’t had the balls to take me.

I glared at him, not caring at all that his gaze smoldered in response. “Where do you get off telling Zane he can’t have me when you don’t even have the—”

“Guinevere,” Zane interjected.

“What?” I snapped, tossing a glower his way. “He forbade you from touching me—which I still don’t forgive you foraccepting—all for what? To not touch me himself either?”

“I believe I touched you last night, little one.”

“Because you think I’m going back to Hell,” I retorted, returning my narrowed eyes to Lord Zebulon. “Yeah, that’s a great reason to finally grow a pair.”

Both his eyebrows shot up as he slowly shifted his focus from me to Zane. “What the hell happened today?”

“I confessed to wanting her for the last few years, and now she hates me.”

I snorted. “Because you called me anaïve little girlwhen I said I loved you.”

“And you’re acting like anaïve little girlright now by challenging a Demonic Lord in a fit of bratty rage,” he countered.

“Bratty?” I repeated. “Bratty?” Now I wanted to kill him, but the male wall in front of me kept me from being able to lunge at the jackass incubus. “You broke my heart, Zane. All because you were told you couldn’t touch me, and youlistened.”

“He’s aDemonic Lord, Guinevere.”

“I don’t care!” I admitted, tired of all this. “You could have tried the truth. You could have told me years ago that we weren’t allowed to date, and I would have understood. But instead, you chose to be horrible to me instead.”

“I was never horrible to you.”

“You were anass.”

“I am an ass,” he tossed back. “Yet you fell in love with me anyway.”

“Out of love,” I countered. “Very muchout of love.”

He just stared at me.

I stared back.

Then Lord Zebulon cleared his throat, drawing my attention back to his obsidian irises. Power rippled over my skin, his presence drugging me into submission and making my knees quake all over again.

I attacked a Demonic Lord.

And then I insulted his manhood.

I flinched.

What the hell is wrong with me?

“My lord—”

“If you apologize, I’m going to be sorely disappointed,” he interjected, his thumb brushing my wrist. “You’re allowed to be angry, Guinevere.” He released me, only to wrap his palm around my throat. “You’re even allowed to hit me.” He leaned close, his minty essence swathing me in a blanket of sizzling energy that tickled the hairs along my arms. “But you should be prepared for my response, little one.” His lips brushed mine. “I can be quite passionate when provoked.”

Then his mouth captured mine completely.

His palm seared the skin on my throat like a brand, and he claimed me like I belonged to him. And in that moment, I did. He stole my air. He stole my mind. He stole my damn soul.

Because all I could feel was him and his need and his dominance.

Demonic Lord,I marveled, utterly lost to him.This is why he’s the literal Demon King of North America.He’s… he’s energy personified. A royal. Cruel. Powerful. Destructive.