Page 50 of The Demon Prince

“What?”

“Making me feel comfortable around you.”

“Well, it’s not hard.” When he gave her a skeptical look, she shrugged. “You have very low standards.”

Again, he laughed, and she saw something in him ease. Gluttony leaned forward and worked the bandage around her neck, gentle as he left it loose so he could swipe that balm over the wounds. Considering she felt very little pain at the action, she had to assume that the puncture wounds were already closed.

He was so careful the entire time. This massive man with claws that ripped and tore anyone who stood in his way, worked with her like she was as fragile as the thinnest of glass.

She watched his eyes as he moved. Dark and hiding so many secrets, it was hard for her to guess what he was feeling. She only knew that he felt a considerable amount of shame, and she wondered if that was partly because he thought she was in pain.

“It’s all right, you know,” she whispered. “I’m fine.”

“You aren’t fine.”

“I’m just a little groggy. I’ll feel better in the morning after I get something to eat. Blood can be remade.”

He shook his head and his throat bobbed in a swallow. “But you cannot be.”

And what was she supposed to say to that? She’d never had anyone care about her well being or whether or not she was in pain. Katherine was always in pain. This was nothing compared to the dull ache in her hip where she had spread her legs too wide to straddle him. Nor was it anything like the ache that happened in her skin, the tightness in her side when she thought about the fire. And he’d never even mentioned her scars.

Maybe he hadn’t seen them.

Maybe, after all this time with her, he still didn’t realize that she was broken.

Licking her lips, she watched him track the movement before asking, “Why me?”

“Because you taste like honey.” Gluttony traced his thumb over her bottom lip. “Because you look at me like I’m a man, and no one has done that in a very long time.”

“But you are a man.”

“No, I’m a demon.” He tucked in the ends of the bandage, making sure it was perfectly situated around her neck so she could breathe and swallow. “You said when you came here that you’ve treated women who have been in my thrall before?”

“In your thrall? What a presumptuous thing to say when it was clearly a business transaction. They came home with money, did they not?”

He shook his head. “The entire time you’ve been here, pet, you’ve asked me ‘why you’? But have you paused to think for even a moment that I might ask the same of you?”

She blinked owlishly. “Whatever do you mean?”

“You could have anyone you wish.” His gaze softened, and he reached for a lock of her hair. Gluttony coiled it around his finger, as he always seemed to do whenever he could touch it. “Surely you are not blind to your own beauty? Any man in your town would be lucky to have you, and yet here you are, standing in front of my castle, no matter what I do to chase you off.”

Every part of her froze as he brushed the back of his fingers against her cheek. He looked at her like a starving man, and not for food. He looked quite content, in fact. He was not hungry for her blood, but just for her attention.

And she didn’t know what to say to that.

Did she tell him that she was wounded and that no one in her town had ever been able to see past that? It was a lie for her to not tell him. She could so easily let the words slip past her tongue.

When I was a child, a fire took my ability to walk normally, and no one had been able to see past that. Just say it, she told herself. Rip the horrible feeling off and let him know the truth. Why couldn’t she just say the words?

Instead, she shook her head. “I don’t know how you haven’t guessed yet.”

It was the wrong thing to say. His eyes shuttered, and that darkness that she saw sometimes reared its ugly head. “Ah, I see.”

“What do you see?” She felt as if she’d lost control over the conversation all of a sudden. He’d jumped to conclusions, and that wasn’t right. It wasn’t that she didn’t like him.

Katherine had seen a different side of the monster, but she couldn’t forget all the wounds she’d healed and all the terrible things he’d done to so many people. She’d pieced them together. Stitching that skin as though it were a quilt for her to fix, and into those stitches, she had poured her anger and her rage.

At him. Everyone in this kingdom was always so mad at him.

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