Page 37 of Burn for the Devil

Stefan licked his lips. “Minor, but it's there.” I had the feeling he wouldn’t tell me the full extent of whatever talents the woman possessed.

“We need some of Samantha’s blood,” Ilya stated. Stefan gazed at me, curious.

“You’re not touching her,” I told Ilya. His eyes narrowed.

“I didn’t offer to. Get me some of her blood and I’ll test it. I have a feeling about her,” he said.

The observation sent my thoughts spiraling. If what he was thinking was true, I was more of a risk to her than I’d imagined. The beast inside me would drain her magic. If she died, I would follow—whether by my own hand or someone else’s. Existencewithout her would be the darkest torture imaginable and my claiming her would surely be her demise. There must be a way to possess her without hurting her. I just had to discover it.

“Julian can’t find out about any of this.” I kept my voice low. “He’ll take every single Thorne woman he can get his hands on.” He would, hoping for another powerful true witch. “We’ll get them first.”

Stefan scowled and Alastair nodded. They knew my father and his proclivities and understood the importance of my words.

If I wouldn’t let anyone near her, it was up to me to do the deed. My talons may come in handy after all—them being less conspicuous than taking a blade to her flesh. An image of her shuddering beneath me while I held a dagger to her breast sent a pleasant tingle down my spine as my mouth watered. I had so many plans for her, so many things I wanted to do for her while her big, beautiful eyes gazed up at me.

I slid a silver cap out of my pocket and placed it on a finger, curling my hand to hide the razor-sharp tip. “How do you want to do this?” I glanced at Ilya.

“Right now?” I stared at him. “Okay, just cut her. Enough so I can swipe a sample,” he said.

Conveniently, Ilya always had an array of useful items tucked on him. I figured he must have cotton swabs and vials in addition to syringes, extensive cutlery, and the firearms he was known for, if he was ready.

Appreciative eyes took us in as we made our way through the spacious hall. We were something new, and something different from the typical beer-bellied beige suit wearing men that were frequently seen in these circles. If the males weren’t the bland stereotype, they were often short, skinny, sloppily dressed in expensive clothing, or drug addicts with extensive parental trauma. Not every man was cursed in those ways, but it was a fartoo frequent occurrence. We stood out for many reasons, and it was far too useful a gift.

It didn’t take long for Ilya to be approached by a pretty thing in a little black dress. I almost flicked her away when Ilya stayed my hand.

“Hi! Do I know you?” she said, smiling seductively.

“Not yet,” Ilya answered, moving closer to her. He licked his lips and held out his hand.

Placing my hand on his shoulder, I said, “We have somewhere to be.”

The woman looked up at me. “I’m Mckenna.”

“Thank you,” I said to her, before glancing at Ilya. “Let’s go.”

Ilya tilted his head as if apologizing and we continued, leaving little Mckenna pouting. He could always find her later.

Samantha was alone, leaning over a narrow table, reading something. The surface had stacks of brochures, photographs, and a pile of drawstring bags bearing the fundraiser’s company colors in shades of pink and blue. One arm hung by her side, the other resting on the glossy surface.

Silently, I approached her, coming to a halt when I breathed in her rich scent. My eyes fluttered closed, savoring the flavor. Her aura was still muted, though I noticed she sensed me on some level, her energy naturally drifting toward mine. If she wasn’t attracted, or didn’t crave me on some level, that wouldn’t happen.

Removing my clawed finger from my pocket, I stepped closer, eyeing the goosebumps that rose to attention, her skin affected by my proximity. She had to have felt my heat, must have been able to hear my heart beating for her. We were now inches apart.

I leaned toward her. “Samantha.”

She stiffened, and I pricked her shoulder blade, clasping her with my hands. “Ah! What was that?” She tried to wiggle away as I slipped the talon back in my pocket.

Ilya came up behind her and deftly wielded a small stick with a ball of cotton on the end, wiping the wound, and quickly spinning away.

“Are you okay? Let me see?” I tried to turn her, but she freed herself from my grasp.

Samantha glared at me. “I told you to stay away from me.” The anger in her eyes took the oxygen from my lungs as she gave me her back and left my company.

This wouldn’t do, not at all. It was a major problem, needing her while being so very scared for her. I couldn’t trust myself, nor could anyone else trust me. It was inevitable I would hurt her further than I already had, and I wouldn’t stop. I’d been wrong to jail her for an entire year and I knew it. I couldn’t live with it, but I also couldn’t change what I’d done.

“Stop fighting it.” Ilya joined me by the table. “It doesn’t get any better, trust me.”

He would know. “I’ll kill her. I don’t know how to stop myself.”

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