Page 44 of Dating the Dealing Demon

“Me too. How are you holding up?” he asks. “With all the fighting and the terrible things my cousin said to you?”

“Your cousin Reggie can off his shadow demon self. What a creep. At least no one but your dad gave us too much crap about Monty showing up.”

“Even though I explicitly told the soul guardian not to before we went?—”

“Technically you told him not to show his furry face. He appeared in dragon form.”

“I was going to say I’m glad he was there to cast his flames so I could focus on half a dozen relatives instead of taking on the entire crowd. Speaking of focus, did your meds help? Do you need anything else?”

I lift my pint of butter pecan. “When the stim wears off, the rebound makes me tired and hangry. Otherwise, I’m all right. Now, stop avoiding my question. How do we heal you?”

“Would you be against all blood magic?”

My stomach twists, and the ice cream turns into an icepick in my gut. Trying to keep an open mind after the levels of weirdness I’ve experienced since meeting Theo, I woman up and refrain from wrinkling my nose. “You’d have to be more specific.”

“A few drops. A prick.”

I let my gaze fall to the bulge in his pants, remembering he mentioned two pricks earlier. What must that be like? How does he fit both in there? Or are they smaller than a human’s? Given the rest of him, they’d likely be in proportion, and whoa, that’s a lot to process. “Uh, I guess I’d be down to try them. It.” I’m proud of myself for catching my slip so quickly, but from the smirk on Theo’s face, he knows what I’m thinking.

He lifts our linked hands to his mouth, pressing his lips against my knuckles.Wow. The intensity in his gaze sparks hunger deep within me that no ice cream will satisfy, and I clench my thighs together to ease the sudden pressure building between them. That’s before he sucks my index finger into his mouth, swirling a tongue that feels longer than any human’s around it.

Damn, he’s hot. The rough of his tongue, the plushness of full lips, and the pull of his slight sucking sends an echoing pulse of need to my core.

“This okay?” he asks.

“Uh huh,” I manage to mutter. I want to climb into his lap and see if he’s this warm all over.

He wraps his tongue around my finger again, and I melt. Is his tongue forked? Oh my god, it is. If it feels this good now, his earlier promise totasteme? It would wreck me.

“Still good with a tiny nick?”

“Sure.” Whatever he says. Whatever he wants. As long as he keeps up this torture of my body. Hell, we’re both still clothed, and my nipples pucker against the boring sports bra I’m starting to regret choosing.

He bites lightly against the pad of my finger, his fang catching on the skin with a sting. I inhale—my sharp and surprised breath the only sound except for the pounding of my heart—and then the quick prick fades, replaced by a flood of heat that has my skin flushing. He sucks again, and I almost climax. What magical fuckery is this?

Drawing my finger out, he releases it with a pop before flicking a forked tongue over my fingertip. “Mmm, I feel better already.”

“Same,” I say on a sigh, putting aside the ice cream. “Who knew flirting with you could be better than butter pecan?”

He grins, flashing his fangs, and I want to run my tongue along them to test how sharp they might be.

I could blame my lack of impulse control or the crazy situation or how bizarre my life has been since I met him, but desire throbs through me on a wave ofneedat a level I’ve never felt before. “Physical contact helps with healing?” I’m hoping he didn’t say that just to have me crawl into bed with him last night, yet I find I can’t really bring myself to care.

“Not as much as sex, but simple contact works.” His voice comes out rough, and oh, the delicious low rumble has me shivering.

“Perfect.” I damn near purr the word as I climb to straddle him, careful to avoid his visible injuries. Ghosting my fingertips over the markings and ridges of his face, the scar along his temple, the slight points of his ears, and his horns, I take in his half-lidded gaze, how his lashes lower over those ruby eyes.

The heat of his skin lulls me closer the same as a spell being woven around me, and I want to sink into him. He smells like soap and beach bonfires. God, the smoky goodness makes me need to drag my nose along his neck and inhale until I can claw my way past second guessing myself.

He catches his bottom lip on a fang, and the urge to lick that sharp tip overtakes me. I brush my mouth over his, letting the breath between us ratchet the tension until I’m pinging with anticipation and pushing against him. His low groan has me worrying that groan might’ve meant pain and not pleasure. “Tell me if I hurt you, and I’ll back off.”

“Vicious, kill me now, and I would die happy. Just don’t stab me until after you kiss me.”

I almost snort a giggle, but it comes out as a whimper. “'Kay.” I press my lips to his, daring to touch my tongue to a fang, to trace its point. The danger and thrill of our differences only stokes the craving. The gentle, sweet kiss is a damn goodone, and I prepare to ease away, telling myself not to demand too much.

Echoes of years of self-doubt rattle around my brain. I’m too intense, too scattered, too spacey, too reckless. I don’t want to hear those things from Theo so I’ll leave myself wanting rather than risk it.

“My turn,” he says. In the next heartbeat, he hauls me against him and takes over the kiss. He tangles his claws in my hair, tugging my head back for him to invade, conquer, and dominate. He kisses as though he’ll devour me, fucking my mouth with his tongue.

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