Page 19 of Demon's Bride

Allie’s eyes go wide as saucers, her dark lashes blinking slowly as she tries to process what I just said.

“Your… prey?”

“Yes.”

“As in… you would hunt me?”

“Yes,” I tell her again, fangs creeping dangerously lower as I hear her say it out loud.

“And what would happen at the end of this hunt?”

I can’t help it, I laugh. Slowly circling her, I drop my voice low so she has to strain to hear it. “Ah, little witch, I think you already know what would wait for you at the end.”

A shiver runs through her, and it’s a delicious mix of arousal and fear. I know I should be ashamed, feeling as excited as I do by the potent combination, but I could no more deny that part of myself than I could deny my wings or my horns or my tail.

I don’t want to frighten her, not truly, not in a way that would make her stop trusting me, but this? These games of chase and capture, of power and submission? They are part of who I am and I would not hide that fact from her.

Besides, as a demon’s mate, she’d have seen this part of me eventually.

The thought makes me pause, realizing I still haven’t mentioned the wholematespart of this equation between us. All Allie knows is that she was chosen by the Goddess, which is true, but I doubt she even suspects who she truly is to me.

I should tell her.

But… should I? Some part of me can sense that Allie’s confidence is hanging on by a thin edge, made thinner still by the bomb I just dropped into her lap. To add the idea of our bond—unbreakable, fated, permanent—into that mix might truly overwhelm her.

So, maybe it can wait.

Allie’s breath has gone from even and relaxed to quick and panicked in no time at all, and I stop circling.

“Talk to me, Allie.”

“I’m just… processing.”

Inhaling deeply, I expect to find every trace of her arousal receded. I don’t. Oh, there’s certainly a measure of sweet fear pulsing off of her, but her warm, intoxicating desire is clearer than ever, and I feel my blood rise to meet it.

Is this exciting to her? The thought of me hunting her? The idea of being caught?

I watch the struggle play across her features, helpless to interpret what she’s feeling.

Someday I’ll know every tiny muscle of her face. I’ll be able to tell when she’s cross with me and when she’s filled with mischief. One glance at Allie and I’ll know her completely.

Until then, I’m suspended somewhere between this realm and the next, wondering how she’ll react to finding out about this dark facet of my nature.

“I think…” she says finally, her voice wild and hoarse and hungry. “I think Iwantto be hunted.”

And just like that, every ounce of my hunter’s instinct roars to life in my blood.

“You don’t have to. It’s what I want, but it has to be your choice.” The words might just kill me, actually kill me.

She puts a hand on her chest, like she’s trying to slow her heart, get control over her rapid breathing. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

I let myself step closer and pull Allie into my arms, turning her gently so her back is pressed against my front. Running my nose up the column of her neck, I’m obliterated completely by the radiant scent coming off of her. The dark spice of arousal, her own rich parchment and rose aroma, the bite of sharp, enticing fear.

Tonight will be the death of me, or my rebirth.

The knowledge hits me with stunning, breath-stealing clarity. No matter the outcome, I will never again be the same male I was when I stepped through that portal to meet my fate.

“Trust your instincts,” I urge her. “And tell me to stop if you need to. Nothing happens between us that you don’t want or feel comfortable with.”

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