Page 4 of Spearcrest Devil

“I suppose I could try,” she says. Her tone is arch, and she flicks her eyebrows up in a gesture that’s almost challenging. Her shiny red wings catch the light when she shifts to get a better look at the Russian.

I scrutinise her for a moment. Her pale skin, that long dark hair of hers, her heart-shaped mouth. Despite the devil costume, all I can see is the innocence and vulnerability of her, a porcelain thing made for shattering.

I shake my head. “You’re not the kind of woman who could ruin anybody.”

“You’d be surprised,” she says, fluttering her eyelashes.

“I doubt it.”

I dig my thumb harder into her neck, hard enough to force her back against the black bar. She arches, watching me through lowered eyelids. Her teeth dig into her bottom lip. She doesn’t seem afraid—she’snotafraid. Her pulse underneath my thumb keeps its same steady rhythm.

“Women like you aren’t made to destroy,” I tell her, “they’re meant to be destroyed.”

“Is that what you’d like to do?” she asks breathlessly. Her hand slides between us, tugs on my belt, bolder than I expected from her. “Destroy me?”

“No.” I let go of her all at once, stepping back out of her space. Her hand slides away, fingers tickling the air. Her mouth is still shaped into a smile. “Where’s the fun in destroying something that wishes to be destroyed?”

She laughs and turns to pick up her drink. She drains it to the last drop and pops the twist of lemon skin in her mouth, chewing then swallowing with a little delighted shudder. Lifting her empty glass, she tips the smooth rim towards me.

“Mm. Your bartenders know how to serve a good drink.” And then she puts down her glass, grabs her little purse where she left it on the bar, and gives me a winning smile. “I suppose I’ll just have to settle for the oligarch, then.”

I gesture toward another patron, a loud American in a superhero costume who laughs so jovially that you’d never suspect he collects human rights violations like trophies.

“Go for the oil baron pervert instead. He’ll ruin you to your heart’s content and probably get you a nice necklace of blood diamonds for your troubles.”

Her gaze follows my gesture, and I search her face while she watches the corpulent American slurp liquor and guffaw at something his entourage are discussing. It’s abundantly obvious to me this woman isn’t interested in the oligarch—and she won’t be interested in the American either.

Because it’s not ruining she wants.

It’sme.

She wants me; she’s wanted me since she leaned her pretty body against my bar. She’s just being coy, building the courage to make her move. Not the tentative belt tug of earlier, but something calculated, full of guile.

Except that her eyes stay on the American for a long time until she finally lets out a thoughtful murmur. “Doesn’t he just sound delightful.”

She turns back to me and gives me a smile I can hardly comprehend. A smile like a clever animal, dangerous and predatory and seductive. A smile that clashes so violently with the prettiness of her big dark eyes and her heart-shaped lips it takes me aback. For a second, I have the disturbing impression that I’ve just witnessed a shapeshifter switch between faces.

And then she fixes her skirt, straightens her devil horns. Reaching into her purse, she pulls out a tub of lip gloss, refreshes her coat and smacks her lips.

“Do you think I look good?” she asks, pouting at me as she throws her lip gloss back into her purse.

She looks like I wouldn’t mind watching her squirm and scream. She looks like I want to see her mascara smudged with tears and her neck purple with bruises. She looks like I want to be unspeakably cruel to her.

I shrug. “Fuckable enough.”

I hoped to hurt her, knock that strange confidence of hers, but she seems quite satisfied with my answer.

“Excellent.” She snaps her little purse shut and walks away, calling over her shoulder, “Bye, Luca!”

3

Pinning Butterflies

Luca

I stride out ofthe club, past the masked punters and costumed girls and subtle Halloween decorations, and I pluck the girl right off the American’s arm.

She turns with a look of surprise, but her expression melts into sultry satisfaction the moment she sees me. She slides away from her companion like a ribbon falling loose as I pull her to me. He opens his mouth to say something, and I tilt my head with my most benevolent smile.

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