Page 11 of Hell Sent

A sour taste filled the back of his throat. His skin itched and he began to sweat, and his breath was coming faster, and he didn’t know why this sickness always came at the most inopportune times, times when hemost needed to focus.

He needed her. There was no point in putting off the inevitable. If he was going to make her his slave, he should begin now.This was what his kind were meant to do, and what the mortals expected of them.The mortals would do the same to him if their positions were reversed. He would enjoy it; he’d never met a demon who wouldn’t.

He had to do what was necessary to survive, just like every other demon. He could not be this weak. He just had to hold her still and?—

His head pounded. His vision swam. He was going to vomit.

“Are you quite finished?” the human asked quietly.

Azreth pulled back to look at her. Her voice was filled with subtle venom, her expression disdainful. Suddenly, he missed the gentleness with which she’d asked his name.

Embarrassment was a foolish, pointless emotion, but he felt it anyway. He moved away from her and sat down beside the river to try to slow his breathing.

He was weak. He knew, deep down, that he would never not be weak. He’d been born this way. It was why the eldress had rejected him after she’d created him. She’d known, even then, that there was something wrong with him.

The woman shuddered with cold and reached into her bag to take out a dark gray blanket, which she threw around her shoulders. “How often do you have to do that—feed?”

“I am always hungry. And your smell is enticing.”

“Do you plan to return to the hells now?”

“No.”

She hesitated, her face grim. “Are you going to kill me?”

He saw no reason to lie to her. He wanted to keep her afraid, but not so afraid that she became desperate. “No.”

“Why?”

Because he needed her to last.

Because she’d saved him.

When he didn’t answer her, she asked, “Should I consider myself your prisoner?”

“Yes.”

She paused, perhaps processing whatever emotions she was feeling about that. “What will you do now?”

She took a slow step toward him, trying too hard to be subtle, and his nerves prickled. He shot to his feet.

“I know you have a weapon. You should not attempt to use it.” He sensed her fear rising enticingly again. He went to her, taking her arm in his hand. She stared at him intently, her mouth a straight, stubborn line, as he slowly raised her wrist to his nose and inhaled her scent.She smelled… so good.

She was nothing like the kin he’d fed from. Her emotions, and her mortal body for that matter, were full and lovely in a way he found difficult to put into words. She was filled with life, filled with feeling. Perhaps this was the trade-off for mortals—the forces of creation had squeezed more vitality into their short lifespans in exchange for decay and then death after a century or so.

He closed his eyes, letting his lips touch her palm. Magic almost seemed to pass between them where they touched. Maybe, if he could just be near her, just like this, that would be enough…

“What if I stayed with you willingly?” she said in a nervous rush.

Azreth snapped out of his reverie. The woman was looking up at him apprehensively, her eyes darting to his teeth.

“I’ll let you… use my body. To feed from. I won’t fight you, and I won’t try to escape.”

He stared at her. He must have misunderstood.

“You will give yourself willingly?” he repeated.

“Yes. With some caveats.”

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