Page 40 of The Phoenix

The first night Brak had arrived, he saved her life. Harley offered him food afterward. He turned up his nose at her usual fare of packaged microwave dinners. He said he wanted the real stuff rather than frozen cardboard. Then the other day, he shopped and cheffed, a spectacular sight in an apron with his leather-clad ass showing while he stirred pots on the stove.

“With my appetite and your cooking, Brak, we’re a match made in heaven.”

Oops. Where did that come from?

Brak’s steps faltered, but he recovered.

In the kitchen, Harley crossed her arms, resting a hip on the counter. “If it isn’t too rude to ask, what breed are you?”

When his eyes focused on her breasts, she dropped her arms.

“It’s not rude. I’m a demon.” He stirred something that smelled like bacon on a burner while he directed her to set the table. “Syrup’s in the pantry. Eggs and pancakes warming in the oven. Butter in the fridge.”

Good at following instructions, she pulled out the items Brak mentioned. He’d already ruled out her usual method of eating, which was to stand beside the counter, microwaved container in hand. So she set out plates, napkins, utensils, and mugs.

After pouring the coffee, she slid out a chair to sit. “There are seven sub-breeds of demons. Like the Seven Deadly Sins. Anger, sloth, gluttony, pride, envy, greed, and carnal. Right?”

He twisted around, his gorgeous lips curving into a grin, eyes lusty. “Right. We call them tribes, but I’m from the best. Carnal.”

“I was told demons feed on orgasms. Correct?”

“Um, yeah.”

How cute. The big man blushed.

Bacon on the table, he sat opposite her.

She nodded a thanks. “How have you been feeding while here?”

Brak’s eyes widened. “You’re blunt, aren’t you?”

“My parents tell me I sometimes lack sensitivity. But beating around seems like a waste of time. Don’t you think?” She pushed her glasses onto her nose.

“Yes. I have a similar problem. A bad rep for shooting before I take aim.”

With his hands curled into fists on the table, Brak’s gaze followed the forked scrambled eggs she slipped between her lips. “Does talk about feeding embarrass you?” she asked.

“Not usually.”

“Just with me?”

“Hell. Can we change the subject?” He jammed a large bite of pancake drenched in syrup into his mouth, licking the sauce off his lips.

The two demons working on the window in the living room chuckled so loudly, she heard them in the kitchen.

“Did you feed while I was at work?” asked Harley.

He squirmed in his chair, muttering, “No.”

“Why not?” When she pictured the gigantic demon with a woman pressed against the wall, getting it on, she realized she hated the idea.

Unless I am that woman. Jealousy? Ridiculous. Men like Brak don’t go for women like me. Plain Janes with glasses.

“Didn’t need to. I brought my hand along, if you get my drift.”

More laughter from the living room.

“Masturbation works?” Harley felt her eyes widen.

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