Page 51 of Sinless Demons
A foot presses against my side, and I roll out of Damien’s warm touch as I lie back and stare up at the massive man smirking down on me.
“He can say he gave it his all, but I know he’d never hurt you. Mate magic is more powerful than anything. Wasn’t a fair fight,” Ryke says with a shake of his head.
“What do you suggest?” I don’t move. I’m flat on my back, but I’ll know the moment Ryke tries to strike. His muscles are powerful, sure, but they’re telling. They flex and tense when he’s about to go in for a blow. Not only that, but he’s looking at me with too much kindness in his eyes.
“Fight Zaviar. Fight someone who isn’t a puddle of love at your feet.” Ryke turns to the man with the big pink wings looming over his dark serious features.
My gaze locks with his and though we haven’t had sex, I can still hear his whispered confession ringing in my ears.
I love you so fuckin’ much, Aries.
I shiver in response like I can still feel his breath against my skin.
He remains impassive. The deadness in his gaze is still there, and I start to wonder if he even remembers what he said at all.
Maybe he doesn’t realize it was spoken out loud.
Maybe I should ignore it.
Maybe—
A fiery scent hits the air as sparking white color flashes across the blue mat. And then, a hard wooden sword cuts through the air. It’s aimed straight for my face. I roll from beneath that swinging strike. Zaviar’s teeth are still clenched together hard as I catch my wooden hilt in my hand and roll to a standing position.
“Still aren’t used to that angel magic, are you?” Zaviar asks with a smirk.
“You’re cute when you’re mad, Remorseless,” I tell him with my lips quirking at one side.
He sweeps his blade back and angles it out with a hard blow that hits my weapon with jolting force. That cocky smirk fades from his face.
“I fuckin’ hate when you call me that.” He seethes, our blades separating our warm breaths that clash together between us. The two of us hold the pose there, neither of us giving in, even as our arms shake.
“Why. What does it mean? Tell me why you live without regret and without remorse,” I ask, my finger slipping out and skimming quick over the tense muscles of his ribs. It’s the faintest touch of my skin against his slick tattoos. Brief. Less than a second.
But I see the tremble that shakes through his body as he shoves off from my defense and circles the room to recompose.
Or to think through his next move.
Or maybe both.
His stride wavers with an arrogance of slow pent-up strength and dominance.
Too bad I can see how pissed off he is over one simple question.
“Tell me why I’ve been here for five godsdamn days with nothing better to do but watch you fuck my friends—and Krave—”
“Hey!” Krave answers, as if he’s hurt from the sting of that separation.
“And I’ll tell you why I hate that name you love so fuckin’ much,” Zav says with his deep blue eyes held hard on me.
I swallow when I realize what he wants.
I want more time, though. I want to clear my head. I want to rest before it all comes crashing down all over again.
My wings spread out wide, and with both hands on my hilt, I bring it downward, fast and spiraling.
Zaviar dodges the blow. His big arms wrap around me, and he slams me to the soft mat with so much force, my weapon rattles out of my hand. And it doesn’t matter. Because his calloused fingers grip my wrists, and in the span of a single pounding heartbeat, he has my hands held above my head, his piercing eyes slicing right into me.
“Tell me, Crow,” he demands. His bodyweight presses in to me just right.
