Page 39 of Mated
“Nah. We get another body though and I’ll call.”
Gage takes a long drag and claps me on the back. “Keep me posted, true?”
I salute him with my beer and he walks off back to the cars. Downing the last of the brew, I toss the empty bottle and grab another before heading toward Caine.
“Any idea where Nisha went?” I call when I’m within earshot.
He shrugs, making his dark shirt scrub the tree. In his hand is a dark bottle of rich red liquid that he conjured from some fucking where. “She is with the redhead. She will be fine.”
“Daisy, Caine. Her name is Daisy.” My eyes cut to him. “Besides, the way you were eyeing her, I figured she was already your full moonplus one.”
He takes a long pull on the bottle, but his carnelian irises glow from behind the fall of his dark hair. “I’m Asmodean, cat. I never take just one.”
As much as I want to roll my eyes, there is something in his gaze that leaves me still. Watchful. “I never pegged you to swing that way.”
His lips curve. If he was a vampire, he would flash fang. “I’ve partaken of every sex, every race … everybreedon this ratty planet and beyond for nearly two hundred years. If I aligned myself with only the fairer sex, do you truly believe I would not have grown bored by now?”
“So you’re bisexual?” I motion absentmindedly down his frame. “Among other things?”
The smile remains though he doesn’t answer.
And I realize he can’t.
Though Caine is a demon, one of the tainted ones, even his people have their standards. Something based on Lucifer’s diction, and a reminder of the word of God. To lay with the same sex, even in the Hells, is reserved for the depraved of even the damned. The twisted of the wicked soulless.
Only prostitutes and lower downs resort to such means to keep themselves alive in the Abyss. That Caine not only bats for both teams but seems unabashedly proud by of it means it was by choice. So why was he cast from the Seven Hells?
I take a swig of my beer my curiosity sparks. As a cat Ineedto know more. But in the last seven years, he has never opened up even this much, and I fucking doubt poking at it now will help. “I won’t say anything,” I mutter as I gaze back out over the field.
The bottle falls back to his side, and the weight of his gaze is heavy over my face. “What do you want in return?”
“Want?” I ask.
His lips curl on a snarl. “No one does shit like that for free. So again, what do you want for your silence?”
I eye him. Really appraise him.
His dark hair is ruffled from the breeze all day. But with his shades pushed back, it leaves his narrow, sinister face open. In the years since he came to Lock Lake, I’ve never noticed the thin scar in his eyebrow or the one bifurcating his ear. Indeed, now that I have picked them up, I can only wonder if there are more.
Despite the sun and the heat, his skin remains flawless fucking moonlight, not a hint of redness anywhere other than his eyes. Eyes that seem to have hardened even more than even the day Lilah died.
I jerk my chin. “I want a sip of whatever you’re guzzling.”
His thin lips part.
I reach forward and snag the bottle without waiting for his approval or agreement. I have to do something. Something to get him to stop looking at me like I’m a fucking bug under a damn microscope. So I drink.
The liquid is spicy, rich, and flavored with smoky undertones of citrus. A deep groan rips from me as the flavor coats my tongue. It’s like being rubbed all over my body with fur. Like having hands through my hair, and nails down my back.
Caine snatches the bottle back as my chest heaves.
Beer forgotten, I turn slowly to peer at the demon. “What the fuck is that?” I pant.
His lips are pressed into a mottled line, but his irises fucking gleam with suppressed humor. He coughs. “Fíanac.”
I gasp and could swear invisible fire spurts from my mouth. “Demon liquor?”
He finally gives up on holding in his laughter. “What did you think I would drink? Wine? Cap’s whiskey?” He leans over, slapping one muscular thigh.
