Page 72 of Inflamed By an Incubus

Too dangerous.

Fenix shored up his resistance, clawed his strength together and fought the urge to cross the short span of flagstones to her and sweep her into his arms. He couldn’t. If she fell for him, she would die. It might take minutes, it might take days, but in the end, she would be torn from him again. He would be forced to watch her die and know there was nothing he could do to stop it and stop the cycle from beginning again.

He vowed that he would make her love him again, but not yet.

As soon as the curse was broken, her heart belonged to him.

Until then, he had to go against his every instinct, had to shut down the softer part of himself that despised himself for what he was going to do, and had to live with her hating him too.

“Nothing personal,” he drawled and casually jammed his hands in his pockets, his fingers closing over the pillbox in his left one.

He pulled it out, opened it, and popped two into his mouth. He swallowed them and the instant they hit his stomach, his hunger faded back to a manageable level. He ran his eyes over her, taking in how her black uniform hugged her figure, revealing it to him to keep his mind traversing a wicked route. He wanted those shapely thighs wrapped around his waist, crushing him as she rode him. He wanted those pert breasts rubbing against his bare chest to create a maddening friction that would add to his pleasure. He groaned, ran a hand down his mouth, and flashed a grin at her, aware he was about to sound like a monumental dick.

A good thing for once. It would push her away.

“Just been a while since I fed and I’m hungry. Don’t fancy a quickie do you? Up against the wall would be fine, or I could just bend you over and take you from behind. Probably better that way. A functional fuck. No pesky emotions. Just scratching an itch and feeding. Or maybe that warlock stole your heart on top of brainwashing you?”

She took a sharp step backwards and scowled at him, her lip curling as her fair eyebrows knitted hard.

The thought that Archer might have claimed what was his had his markings churning obsidian and red, and his hunger transforming into a black need to find the male and kill him.

Evelyn spat, “You’re disgusting.”

That wasn’t a no. He didn’t like that it wasn’t a no.

He pushed away from the wall and glared at her, the ruse to anger her and make her keep her distance falling away as his own rage got the better of him. “Did you fuck him?”

Her golden eyes widened and then narrowed. “It’s none of your business if I did.”

“Oh, it’s my business, love. So answer the damned question. Did you sleep with the warlock?” His breaths came faster as the part of him he always struggled to deny, the insidious voice that breathed poison in his ear on a daily basis, began to win ground against the side of him that knew she had been faithful to him.

She always was.

Her cheeks flushed and her mouth flapped open and closed, and her words were jerky as she grew more and more flustered. “I… We weren’t… It wasn’t… We were partners.”

“Partners sexually?” He moved a hard step closer to her.

Her gaze darted off to her right, and then it narrowed and she calmed, and her eyes snapped back to him. “It’s really not your business.”

“You, sweetheart, are my business and you have been for decades.”

Those stunning golden eyes widened again and her mouth dropped open. “Decades? I haven’t been alive decades!”

He chuckled at that. “Last count, you were a hundred and… sixty-one… no… sixty-three. If the age you told me you were when we met in a little tavern in Hell was true.”

She swallowed hard. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’ve mistaken me for someone else. I’m barely thirty.”

“Archer tell you that?” He shook his head and sneered as he saw something in her eyes that only stoked his anger. “And you believe him. You still believe him.”

The depth of her trust when it came to Archer irritated the hell out of Fenix.

He wanted her to trust him like that, to need no other male.

To want no other male.

He curled his fingers into tight fists and shut down those dangerous thoughts, denying his needs.

Her gaze faltered, dropping to her boots again, and she frowned at the flagstones.

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