Page 5 of Beyond Fate

Fortunately, with Elvine, the scent was even less potent.

But it was still there.

“First of all, it’s grumpy pants, not socks. Second, I’d be doing even better if you’d stopped checking on me every five seconds.” He flipped to his back, forcing himself not to concentrate on the pulse in her small neck or how he could hear her blood rushing through her veins.

His thirst was getting worse, his focus on Elvine a little too intent. Damon felt his fangs threatening to lengthen, ready to—

“Goddamn it!” His wings shot out, sending objects flying in every direction. The mirror above his dresser shattered, and the blinds on the nearest window were ripped down.

It had been a full week, and Damon had gotten diddlysquat under control. Just two days ago he’d discovered he could create dense fog. He’d had to keep his bedroom windows open, because for hours the power kept turning on and off, filling his room until it looked as if he lived in a lowland or valley.

If he had to have demon powers, why couldn’t they have been something cool, like laser eyes or the ability to make Casimir go away?

Elvine squeaked. “Those things could be used as deadly weapons, Mr. Grumpy Socks!”

“Don’t you have someone else to pester?” Damon tried to stand up with his wings still extended, but all he managed to do was grunt and roll back and forth on his bed. He was ready to rip them off.

“As amusing as it is to watch you struggle like a flipped turtle, breakfast will get cold before you figure out how to get up.” She chanted something in her native language, and Damon’s wings immediately tucked behind his back.

“You’re not supposed to use dark magic,” he bit out, frustrated that he’d needed help. “House rules.” Finally on his feet, Damon headed for the door.

“I think what you meant to say was thank you.” Elvine pressed her tiny fists against her hips as she glared at him.

Damon actually cracked a smile and shook his head. Maybe that was a sign his aggression was finally chilling out. He’d never had a problem with Elvine in the past. It was her and Jax who were always snarling at each other.

“Use some of that magic to clean up this mess,” he whispered as he walked by her, grateful his thirst had momentarily subsided.

When he heard a weird snapping sound, Damon turned around to find his room perfectly tidy again. “You couldn’t have fixed the blind too?” It was back on the window, but most of the slats were torn and floppy.

“Incentive to practice getting your wings under control.” She zipped past him and flew downstairs.

Damon took his time, trying to calm his racing heart. Since the Ultionem had converted him, he felt like everyone was watching him, waiting for him to lose control of his powers.

Thank goodness that hadn’t happened so far.

But the day was still young.

He trotted down the stairs then groaned when he saw a bare-chested Casimir leaning against the wall, his muscular arms crossed. Damon really needed to learn how to keep his mouth shut, even in his thoughts.

This was not the morning to deal with his mate.

“Don’t.” Casimir gently grabbed his arm and pulled Damon to a stop when he tried to breeze past him. “You can’t keep avoiding this, Damon.”

“Are you seriously trying to discuss this out in the open?” Damon glanced toward the kitchen. He wasn’t even sure why. Everyone in the house had heightened hearing. They’d probably even heard his conversation upstairs with Elvine.

“I wouldn’t have to if you stopped avoiding me.” Casimir let his arm go but still appeared ready to grab it again if necessary. “They’re fully aware of your need for blood, nékah. There’s no shame in it.”

Gritting his teeth, Damon got in his face and hissed, “You don’t get to tell me how to feel. Did someone put a circus inside of you without an instruction manual? No, they didn’t. So back off!”

To be fair, Nazaryth had tried to show Damon how to use his wings, but it had been right after Damon received infused blood from seven powerful beings. That was the wrong time to try and show him how to use them.

Casimir gripped his arms and swung him around, pinning him against the wall.

This was not good.

The dark fae’s magical blood was like a sweet nectar to Damon, and the closer he got to him, the stronger his craving became.

The only time he’d fed from Casimir, it had taken almost breaking Damon’s jaw to get him to release the vein.

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