Page 42 of The Demon Prince

And frankly, she was a little thrilled to finally be doing something other than sitting and staring at a wall.

She took a single step back and grabbed a beaker full of yellow mist. “I can threaten you all I want. I will pour this entire bottle into that one if you don’t give me something to do.”

The other bottle was the one with the black mist, and the one she was quite certain was more important.

Considering the flash in his red eyes, she’d guessed correctly. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Maybe I don’t. Or, maybe I do.” She tilted the yellow mist in her hands. “I think you already tried this combination, and that’s why you were staring at it. You know this yellow stuff will destroy what you’re testing.”

“Easy there, pet.”

“I have steady hands,” she assured him, but those steady hands were still tilting the bottle. “I’d like to help you in your lab.”

“It’s far too dangerous for a human.” His nose wrinkled and then smoothed out. Perhaps a desperate attempt to keep his glasses on his nose where they were already sliding a bit. “I will not risk you.”

“You don’t want to risk my blood, you mean. Truly, I have no intention of murdering myself in this room full of what I can only assume are explosive substances.”

Mouth off one more time, she thought to herself. Just do it. She wanted to see what would happen if he thought she wasn’t serious.

Gluttony crossed his arms over his chest and frowned at her. “Your skirts will get in the way.”

“I doubt that.”

“They will.” But then he waved his hand at her, as though he were the king submitting to all her desires. “But if you think you will be of use, little human, let’s see what you are capable of.”

ChapterSixteen

Gods forbid his little pet was bored.

Gluttony was a fool. He absolutely should not have given in to her request. Namely, because having her this close to him, in his space, did things to his head that he wasn’t proud of.

Like how a voice whispered that he could still smell other people on her skin. That maybe if he just rubbed his face against the crook of her neck, where most women would put perfume, then he could make her smell like him. And then he could run his tongue up that lovely column, feeling her heart beat against his lips when he sank his teeth into her throat. Drinking from her? He knew that would be as close to holy as he would ever experience.

And yet, another part of him realized these thoughts were foolish. He would never be anyone to her other than a monster. This was why he’d been treating her like royalty. She had food, time to herself, space away from the beast that demanded so much from her.

But if she wanted to sacrifice her time to him as well... He was too weak to resist.

Giving her new clothing had been, in part, a distraction. He needed time to get his head on straight and prepare himself for her nearness. The longer he was in her presence, the more it was likely he would beg for more than a taste of her blood.

His fangs already ached. His claws wouldn’t go back into his fingers because they wanted to touch her one more time. The desire to drag the tips along her freckled skin consumed him. What would she do if he touched her like that?

Would that lovely, lily white skin pebble with bumps? Would she shiver in anticipation at what he would do next?

Of course she wouldn’t, he reminded himself as he put the beakers back in their places. She would shudder in disgust because a monster dared to touch her. That was what she would do. He had no reason to think she would do anything otherwise.

Sighing, he shook his head to clear it of all those terrible thoughts. She only wanted to feel useful. As anyone else would wish to do.

The door to his laboratory opened—this time he heard it just fine—and she approached him, already muttering. “The man thinks my clothes would get in the way? What does he think this will do?”

He’d given her some of his own clothing to wear. Just a plain white peasant shirt and some pants that would cover her legs. Her skirts would have gotten in the way. She could so easily trip over them, or knock into a table. It was easier to wear pants here, and much easier to be able to roll her sleeves up. They were in a lab, not some silly human house, where they tried their best to heal people.

This was real work. Not just stitching.

But then he turned around, and all thoughts fled from his mind. His clothing swallowed her up. Entirely. She could have just worn his shirt and belted it around the waist, and it would have been perfectly fine to wear. The sleeves came down so far over her hands that he couldn’t guess even where they were. The pants fared better, or at least he assumed so. They weren’t down around her ankles, although they were bunched up at the bottoms since they were so long.

A soft smile crossed his face before he could catch himself. “Ah,” he breathed, then gestured for her to come closer. “Those are much too large for you.”

“And you think they would be better in a laboratory? You realize I’m going to set this on fire if I lean forward at all?”

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