Page 147 of A Taste of Torment
“Calm, bright one,” the demon holding me says. “It will take time for us to be released from this place.”
“What?” I squeak.
“I’m trapped beneath the rubble. I don’t yet have enough strength to escape, not without harming you.”
Uh, since when do demons think about who they’ll hurt by their actions? I don’t voice that question. “How long?” I ask instead.
“Trevor and Laithe are digging to us now.”
Trevor? “He came?”
“Yes. He was delayed by our change in location and the magic protecting the arena. But he did not abandon us.”
Good, that’s good. “I think we’re going to owe him for this, then.”
The demon rumbles out a laugh. “Perhaps I will not kill his mate for her role in your harm.”
“I already said you weren’t allowed to kill her.” Not that I forgive her for this, but I don’t want to be the reason Jarron destroys his brother’s happiness.
“I did not agree to that,” the demon growls. “But I will take it under consideration.Onlyif she is not a continued threat.”
“That’s fair,” I say, as if this were at all a reasonable conversation.
Something vibrates and crunches over my head, and I shrink in closer to Jarron—the demon. My forehead presses against the leathery skin of his shoulder.
“Take your time, brother,” the demon mumbles. “I am enjoying myself.”
“Funny,” I complain. “Can you change back?” It may be an unfair question, but I’d be significantly more comfortable with Jarron in human form.
“Not unless you don’t mind being crushed by debris.”
“Uh, right. This is fine.”
“Are you unwell?”
“Well, your, uh, claws? They are kind of—”
“Oh,” he mutters, then he shifts his hands, splaying them out so his tips are not digging into me. “Is that better?”
“Yes. Thank you.” I relax a bit more. Still being cocooned by a literal monster, but I suppose it’s better than the alternative—you know, dead.
“If you’d let me mark you, and establish a magical connection, those things would not happen. I could feel your pain as if it were mine.”
“Uhhh, right. Yeah, it’s not a big deal,” I squirm and realize I should be incredibly clear about this topic considering I don’t know how much I can trust a demon. “I don’t want you to mark me.”
This time, the vibration in his chest is clearly displeased.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “For saving me.”
“I will always protect you,” he whispers. I don’t fully believe that, but part of my heart thaws against my will.
I think it helps that I can’t see him, but in the next few minutes, with our breaths mingling, skin touching, while we wait to be rescued, I find myself comfortable. At ease in my monster’s arms.
“Cover your face with your hands,” he instructs me eventually. I obey. The pressure on my chest lessens as he pushes away. Dust and pebbles rain down.
The groaning of shifting metal and stone sound just above me, and I’m secretly terrified something large will drop on me. I don’t want to look yet.
“Come,” the demon says. My breath is still labored, but I force my hands from my face and sit up.
