Page 102 of Spit

Quinn rubbed his hand over his mouth, hissing between his teeth. “The Feeder.”

My eyes rounded as my mind was cast back to the garbled conversation I’d had with Dr. Wise. I doubted the doctor thought I would remember, but I did.

As if to confirm my suspicions, my nipples hardened to a sharp point, becoming almost painful. My stomach spasmed, and I clenched my legs together where I sat on the floor.

I cursed, digging my fists into my thighs. “The feeder.” I echoed. “Why?”

Quinn gave me a long look that explained everything.

“But why?” I repeated. “It’s Gluttony magic, right? They want to use it on cattle. Why are they pumping it into our cells.”

I expected Quinn to have an answer, but his eyes had glazed over, and horror slowly filled my blood like an overflowing jug. I’d seen that look before. The empty stare, the desperation. It was my curse all over again. Fifteen and being pinned down in the grass as Dylan Cartwright pawed at me and pushed my thighs aside like a scrabbling dog.

I didn’t take my eyes off the demon as I lifted my bum off the floor and began to crabwalk backward until my back hit the wall at the furthest part of my cell.

“Quinn?”

He licked his lips. Gone was the reluctant grump, and in his place was a predator. His eyes fixed on mine, somehow glowing from within with demon magic. I gritted my teeth and bit back a sob, trying to stay in the moment. Pinching my thigh through the fabric of my scrubs to stop myself from drifting away from my body, losing myself to frightening memories of stalkers and potential rapists.

Quinn stalked forward on his hands, his back muscles moving under his skin like a leopard stalking its prey.

I bent my legs, knowing that it would be harder to kick out if he pinned me. I ran through a dozen different defensive holds I could put him in.

Quinn must have seen my intent because one moment, he was a few feet away, and the next, he was on top of me, moving with a demonic speed that my eyes couldn’t track. I inhaled sharply as I felt his weight on my hips, and his legs straddled mine. He had managed to pin my hands above my body with little effort.

My lip quivered.

I’d spent years perfecting my body. Years learning how to defend myself and protect myself.

And a demon had managed to disarm me in less than a second.

If I had my shadow, I could have donesomething.

My blood boiled with the knowledge that I was only as powerful as the magic that Mr. Bub had gifted me.

I could use my null abilities on a demon through touch, but nothing happened when I grabbed Quinn’s arm. Just like when I touched Trey, Sev, or Legion.

I looked up, feeling my eyes burn as my eyelids peeled back. I watched him. Unwilling to blink even for a moment in case he slit my throat or, worse, kissed me.

The drug had definitely made its way into my system, making my core pulse and clench with the desire to be filled. My lips burned with the need to be kissed, and my nipples strained to be bitten. I squirmed under Quinn’s hips.

My common sense was a thread that I could feel fraying with a soft ping of every minute fiber before it would give way.

It would be easy to give in. So easy. But there would be consequences.

The drug caressed my skin, purring in my ear. Demanding that I let go.

Quinn’s hair hung down, framing his face like a halo as he leaned down. He was so close that the tip of his nose touched mine. His eyes were hooded.

We were prisoners, being pushed together against our will, but it was hard to remember that. Especially when it felt so good.

Quinn’s lips grazed the seam of my jaw.

“Don’t,” I whispered.

“Lexi.” Quinn breathed in my ear.

“You can’t. Seriously. I’m cursed. If you think this is bad, wait until you taste my spit. It won’t be good, Quinn.” My voice left my lips in a scrambled rush.

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