Page 19 of Claimed By Midnight

"What are you-" she starts, but I cut her off.

"What I want." My voice is a low growl, echoing in the silence of the workshop. "And right now, little demon, this is what I want."

I peel her leather pants down, exposing her legs inch by inch. Her skin is pale, smooth, and the scent of her - honey and herbs - fills my nostrils. I've been craving this since the second she walked into my workshop, all innocence and defiance.

"Uriel, you can't just-" she protests, but her voice lacks conviction. She's curious, maybe even eager, despite herself. She doesn't even fight me as I help her out of her boots so I can free her legs.

"I can." I grin up at her, knowing it's a cruel smile, one that promises both pleasure and pain. "And I will."

I drape one of her legs over my shoulder, opening her up to me. Her breath hitches as I lean in, pressing a kiss to the soft skin of her inner thigh. Then, I bite down, hard enough to leave a mark. She yelps, her fingers flying to my hair, gripping tightly.

"None of that," I growl, grabbing her wrists and pinning them behind her back with one hand. She struggles, but I hold firm, using my other hand to explore the newly exposed flesh.

I nip at her thighs, alternating between kisses and bites, each one earning me a gasp or a moan. She's so responsive, her body arching towards me even as she tries to pull away. I can see the conflict in her eyes, the desire warring with the defiance.

My hand moves up to her breast, pinching her nipple through the fabric of her tunic. She cries out, her body trembling. I do it again, harder this time, and she bucks against me. She likes the pain. Good girl.

I release her wrists, both hands now gripping her thighs, spreading her wider. I can see her glistening folds, smell her arousal. I lean in, my mouth watering at the sight. But I don't dive in just yet. I want to hear her beg.

Instead, I raise my hand, bringing it down sharply on her ass. The crack echoes around the room, followed by her startled yelp. I do it again, and again, until her skin is pink and she's panting, her eyes glazed over with need.

"Please," she whimpers, and that's all I need.

I dive in, my tongue finding her clit, circling it, teasing it. She bucks against me, her hands flying to my hair again, gripping tightly. I growl against her, the vibrations making her moan.

I'm relentless, my tongue and teeth working her until she's a writhing, moaning mess. I can feel her climax building, her body tensing, her breath coming in short gasps.

"That's it, little demon," I murmur against her flesh, "Come for me."

And she does, her body convulsing, her cry echoing through the workshop. I grin, lapping up her juices, satisfied.

For now.

11

ATHENA

The morning sun streams through the dining room's tall windows, catching dust motes that dance in the air. I push the eggs around my plate, my appetite lost somewhere between last night's dreams and the electricity that shoots through my skin every time I catch a glimpse of Uriel's massive wings folded behind him.

My fork scrapes against the fine china. The sound makes me wince.

"Not hungry, little demon?" Uriel's deep voice sends a shiver down my spine.

I keep my eyes fixed on my plate, watching the way the yolk bleeds across the white plate. "Just tired."

But tired doesn't explain the way that I dreamed of him taking me, of how I'm still aching for him despite being able to feel his mouth on my pussy. Tired doesn't explain why I can still smell citrus and metal, or why my heart races every time his wings rustle.

"You should eat." He pushes a plate of bread closer, and I swear there is a flash of concern in his eyes.

My fingers tremble as I reach for a slice, and I hate myself for it. This isn't me - this fumbling, nervous creature who can't meet someone's eyes. I'm fierce. I'm independent. I've set out to prove I don't need to be coddled as I always have - though that hasn't gone according to plan. But one touch from this xaphan warrior has reduced me to...this.

A servant refills Uriel's cup with steaming tea, and I catch his reflection in the polished silver pitcher. His golden curls catch the light, making him look much kinder than a xaphan should be. It's a lie. I've seen the cruel twist of his smile, the way his perfect features sharpen when he talks about humans. About my kind.

My stomach clenches. I force myself to take a bite of bread, but it turns to ash in my mouth. What would Astrid say if she could see me now? My fierce older sister would probably tell me to get my head straight. To remember what I am - and what he is.

"You don't even have to come to the workshop today," Uriel says, and I make the mistake of looking up. His golden eyes lock with mine, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe. "If you're too…tired."

I drop my gaze back to my plate, hating the heat that creeps up my neck. I know that he's wondering if he pushed me too far, but what I don't understand is why hecares.

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