Page 98 of Marked
Caine huffs at his place next to the long aisle; his hands are pressed into his slack’s pockets and a look of perpetual boredom rests on his face. “How many blasted romantic comedies can two women watch?” he asks.
Chuckling, I climb to my feet, grab the empty plate, and walk over. “More than I am sure you have ever heard of.”
His hellfire eyes roll as he follows me from the theater. “I am more of an action-adventure sort,” he grumbles. “Or porn. Porn is nice.”
I look at him.
“Demon, remember?”
My snort is all derision. “You’re Asmodean. Porn for you is like a virgin daquiri for an alcoholic. It’s the idea, not the real thing.”
“Ah, but have you ever been inside an adult bookstore as an Asmodean? The lust in one of those places is needy to a point of degradation.”
“Why not go to a strip club? Isn’t that the same?” I ask, genuinely curious as we step into the kitchen. The room is dim, only a handful of recessed lights cast an amber glow on the marble counters and stainless-steel appliances.
He leans next to me at the counter as I refill my plate with slightly burnt chocolate chip cookies. Caine snares one before answering. “Strip clubs are ... interesting for me.”
My brow raises. “Interesting how?”
“You know, you are awfully curious about me, little bird. Why is that?”
Leaving the plate on the counter, I turn to face him fully. “I like you, Caine. I think you’re genuinely a good guy under the snark and attitude. Even for a demon.” His eyes pulse as he watches me. “And that is why I am so curious.”
His lips peel back to flash his teeth in a grimace. “I am not agoodguy.” The tone is condescending.
I roll my eyes, snatch his cookie, and shove it between his teeth. He sputters and pulls it free with a glower. “Yes, you are. As evidenced by you staying behind.”
He tosses the cookie on the counter and presses close to me. From so near, the dark stubble along his narrow jaw grows visible. Every striation in his strange irises gleam. Bright and angry.
Hot.
His body heat rolls over me as he pushes me against the counter. “Did you forget what I am, little bird?” Gone is the teasing demon from seconds ago. His voice is Sin, low, tangible. It caresses over me like a calloused hand rubbing from my neck down. He inhales. “Even now you respond. With Ruin’s scent all over you, inside you. You shouldn’t tease me so.”
My face flames and I push at him. “Back the fuck up, Caine.”
“Are you sure you want me to?”
I look at him, really look at him.
With the fringe of his midnight hair and the long dark lashes framing his eyes, he is almost goth. Brooding. Sinister.
The body under his silk shirt and slacks is strong, lean. Built like a professional swimmer with wide shoulders and muscular thighs.
A bad boy in every sense of the word.
“No,” I say honestly. “And I am okay admitting that.”
“If I didn’t care for Ruin as much as I do … if it had been you that night, maybe things would be different.” He steps back, eyes wild. “But I do care about Ruin. I respect him.AndI respect you.”
“I am a demon, girl. Are you stupid enough to forget that?”
“Why should what you are matter?” I ask. “I am falling for a vampire, Caine. Me. Of all people.” He winces. “But I see you, always on the outside looking in. And I know you get it. Not being one of them, not really.”
“I think it’s why you won me over so easy,” I say, only partly teasing. “I saw you. One of them, this powerful being on the outskirts of the colony, a part but not, and I know that will be where I wind up if I decide to stay. On the edge.”
When I advance on him, he presses against the island counter; his agile hands close over the marble top as his pulse beats widely in the pale column of his neck.
“Caine, just stop.” He blinks at me, or maybe my tone. I try to smile. “You don’t have to pretend. It’s okay. What you think you feel for me is not it at all.”
