Page 45 of Demon Hunger
“I want you,” he said in his deep, rumbling voice.
One of his hands slid from my waist, down the side of my hip and leg. He reached down behind my knee and hiked my leg up, pressing himself between my legs, and making me understand how much he wanted me.
His other hand slid under my jacket and shirt, and his heated fingers caressed my side, tickling along my ribs. I wanted to tear his clothes off, but this was not the place for it.
As if he’d heard my thoughts, he stopped, his mouth pausing at my neck and his searching hands becoming still. We both breathed in and out, sounding agitated, as if we’d been running. We didn’t move for a few beats, and he only pulled away when we’d both gotten ourselves under control.
Pushing a strand of hair behind my ear, he lay a tender kiss on my mouth, then took my hand. “C’mon, there’s a delicious tray of desserts waiting for you. You can pick whatever you want.”
Hewas the dessert I wanted right now, but he had promised to take it slow, and I could only be glad he had the strength to set the pace because I didn’t.
After I sampled way too many sweets, we left The Cloisters in the direction of the league. He walked me to the top of the steps and pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth.
“I can’t wait to do this again,” he said. “I hope you will go on a second date with me.”
Shyly, I smiled and nodded. My stomach was in knots, and my heart pounded so fast I thought I might keel over. I didn’t want the night to end, but he was keeping to his word, and I needed to stand by the very rational, very smart decision not to rush things.
My hand held on to his as he descended the steps. When the connection was severed, I felt bereft and had to remind myself that I would see him in class early tomorrow morning.
“Go inside,” he said, waiting next to the limousine.
“Good night.” I pushed the door open and stepped over the threshold.
We kept eye contact until the door closed. I stood there, my hand on the doorknob, fighting the urge to run outside and fling myself into his arms. I fought hard and valiantly, but in the end, I lost.
Heat building, I threw the door open and ran down the steps before I realized Drevan was already gone. I glanced down the road, searching for the limousine, but there was no sign of it.
Crestfallen, I turned and walked back. I was halfway up the steps when I heard awhooshand I was whisked off my feet.
16
Ifoughtandscreamed,but this time, there was no one to come to my rescue. Once more, the wicked angel had a hold of my jacket while I dangled helplessly, my stomach churning at the sight of the rushing buildings below. Cold air blasted my face and hands.
Jophiel rose higher and higher until my head grew dizzy from the lack of oxygen. This is how he intended to kill me. He would take me into outer space and leave me there to float for all of eternity.
I fought the heaviness pressing against my eyelids, but, in the end, I lost the battle and passed out.
When I came to, I figured I’d been right about being dumped in outer space because everything was utter blackness. Except I wasn’t floating but lying on a hard surface. I rose to my feet, feeling out of balance in the pitch dark. I extended my hands and tried to feel around me. I touched nothing but air. Was I locked in a cellar? A vault?
There was a sound. I froze and listened intently. There it was again. Someone… breathing.
“H-hello.” My voice was nothing but a low, cowardly croak.
Suddenly, a blinding light appeared in front of me, the dazzling white and glitter of diamonds. As if being born from darkness, Jophiel stepped forward, his white wings spread wide, his blond hair resplendent. He was beauty personified. There was no denying it, but he was also cruelty of the purest kind.
Squinting at the brightness, I pressed a hand to my mouth and took deep breaths, attempting to be calm. I tried to tell myself that everything would be all right. I wasn’t dead. He hadn’t floated me to outer space. He hadn’t hurt me. Maybe he would…
Fuck! Who are you kidding? He was probably waiting for you to wake up so he could torture you.
“The savior,” the angel said in his melodic voice, which paradoxically dripped with sarcasm. He wore that light blue skirt fastened at the waist by a thick golden belt where his firelash and Swiftglory were attached.
“W-what do you want?” I demanded, though stuttering didn’t lend credibility to the menacing tone I’d been going for.
Why, oh why, had I gone back outside?
“How are things going with my dear cousin?” Jophiel asked, pacing to the right and dialing down some of his blinding glow.
I struggled with the meaning of his question. At first, I thought he was asking about how redeeming the Gluttony Subject was going, but there was a suggestive tone in his voice that made me wonder if he was talking about something else entirely. Giving him the deadliest glare possible, I crossed my arms and pressed my lips together as if to seal them.
