Page 15 of Hell Sent

Azreth considered that. Her husband had attacked her, and that was why she had resorted to allying with a demon instead?Or perhaps she was the one who had attacked Nirlan, and he had only been defending himself.

Looking closer, he saw a line of scratches on her throat leading beneath the collar of her robe. He reached out and folded the edge of the collar down, following the trail of marks. They grew darker and deeper beneath her clothes. Azreth had a flash of memory suddenly, recalling his hand clawing over her throat. He quickly let go of her.

“I have heard that mortals only take willing mates,” he said.

“Usually.”

“Did your husband force you into marriage?”

Her eyes flashed, but her voice was quiet. “No, he didn’t force me.”

“So you formed an alliance with him, agreed to be equals, and now you have betrayed him.”

The look she gave him was definitely defiant, now. “Yes, I suppose I have.”

Her honesty was impressive. Her lack of loyalty, less so. At least he knew exactly how much to trust her now. “I must feed,” he repeated.

She shifted and glanced away. “What do I need to do?”

“Arouse yourself.”

She actually scoffed, as if it were a ridiculous request. “I can’t. Just… just do what you want with me.”

He was torn between annoyance and interest. Hesitantly, fully expecting her to snarl and bite him, he stepped closer and raised a hand toward her face.

“Remember our agreement,” she said.

“You do not want to be bruised, or bloodied, or forced.”

She seemed surprised that he remembered.

Cautiously, he touched her cheek. Her skin was slightly warm, but cooler than he’d expected, much cooler than any demon’s. And it was soft. Velvety. Pillowy. Addictive. She stood perfectly still, watching him in a way that seemed faintly judgmental.

He had only ever touched other living beings during feeding exchanges like he’d had with Nariel, or during fights to the death. No one had ever given him the freedom to examine the heat and texture and shape of their body. It felt wrong, or unfair, like he was taking something from her. Which he supposed he was—that was the whole point of this.

He could give her pleasure, though, if she allowed it. Of this, he was confident. To the kin, giving pleasure was like breathing.

He let his hand drift down her throat to her chest, flattening his palm gently over her heart, which was beating quickly. He frowned a little, but he continued, slipping his hand beneath the crossed collar of her robe.She stiffened, giving off a flare of fear and anger. His frown deepened, and he pulled away from her.

She detested him. And why shouldn’t she? He was coercing her.

“What?” she asked, as if they didn’t both know.

“You said you would be willing.” It came out as a growl, which seemed cruel, because this entire situation was his fault. She had not asked for this, not exactly.

“I’m trying,” she said. “Keep going.”

Determined, he reached for her again—and he just as quickly lost his determination. The scent of her fear and hatred should have aroused his predator’s instinct, but it just sickened him. He felt nauseous, too hot, his heart beating too hard.

He couldn’t just let her go. He needed to feed from her, or he needed to feed from some other mortal, but he needed to feed.In a burst of frustration, he snapped, “If you cannot do this, then you must find someone else who will.”

“I can do it,” she insisted. Her eyes fell to his waist just for a moment before snapping away again. “I could… use my mouth?”

It took him several seconds to understand what she was suggesting.

Did she actually think he’d let someone put their teeth near him? And did she think he could feed from his own passion?

Did she really just not understand what he needed from her?

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