Page 28 of Claimed By Midnight

"You're playing a dangerous game." The words rumble from his chest.

I glance up through my lashes, feigning innocence. "I don't know what you mean. I'm just admiring your work."

His wings spread slightly, the light gray feathers catching the workshop's glow. The gesture is pure dominance, a reminder of his otherworldly power.

I straighten up, purposefully brushing against him as I move to place the stones back. Another "accident" sends them tumbling from my hands.

"Oops." I bite my lip, preparing to bend down again.

His hand catches my wrist, grip firm but not bruising. "Enough."

I meet his gaze, heart racing at the barely contained hunger in those golden depths. His perfect features are twisted into something predatory, and I feel my breath catch.

"Is there a problem?" I ask sweetly, testing the strength of his hold.

His cruel smile emerges, transforming his angelic face into something deliciously wicked. "You know exactly what you're doing, little demon." His fingers flex around my wrist. "Since you're so intent on making messes in my workshop, you can clean it. All of it."

The command in his voice shoots straight through me, igniting places I didn't know could burn. The defiance is still there, but I want the punishment that comes with it. I'm eager for the chance to prove I can take him again.

"I'm not your servant." I jerk my wrist free, rubbing the tingling skin where his touch lingers.

His wings spread wider, casting dancing shadows across the workshop floor. "No, you're a spoiled little human who thinks she can play games without consequences."

Heat floods my cheeks - from anger or arousal, I'm not sure anymore. "I'm not playing games."

"No?" He steps closer, and my back hits the weapon rack. "Then what do you call deliberately making messes in my space?"

I tilt my chin up, meeting those burning golden eyes. "Maybe I'm just naturally clumsy."

"We both know that's a lie." His perfect features contort into a snarl. "Clean it up."

The authority in his voice makes my core clench, and I hate how my body betrays me. How dare he command me like this? How dare my treacherous flesh respond?

"And if I refuse?" I press my palms against his chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath. "What will you do if I don't? Punish me?"

His pupils dilate, swallowing the gold. For a heartbeat, I think he might actually show me exactly what punishment means. But then he jerks away, storming toward the door. His wings snap tight against his back, feathers bristling with barely contained rage.

I watch him go, knowing why he fled. I felt his control slipping, saw the way his hands shook with the effort not to grab me. He's running from his own desires as much as mine.

The door slams behind him, leaving me alone with scattered whetstones, racing pulse, and the maddening ache between my thighs.

16

URIEL

Ilean against the window frame of my study, a half-finished blade forgotten on my desk. The garden stretches behind the main house, vibrant and alive in the late afternoon sun. Raven's lounging on one of the stone benches, her dove-gray wings spread wide to catch the warmth. Her leg's propped up - though she thinks I don't notice how she favors it.

But it's not Raven who holds my attention. It's the little human who's managed to draw actual laughter from my usually sardonic friend. Athena kneels in the herb garden, those honey-blonde ringlets catching the light as she gestures animatedly. Her hands are covered in dirt, but she doesn't seem to mind as she shows Raven some plant or another.

"You're telling me this tiny leaf can stop bleeding?" Raven's voice carries through the open window, thick with skepticism.

"Only if you prepare it properly." Athena's smile lights up her whole face, those golden-green eyes sparkling.

Sometimes she looks so innocent. So pure. But her soft beauty doesn't show what lies beneath. She's dangerous, full of fire that I am willing to get burned by just to have her again. I can feel the threads of my control snapping.

My fingers dig into the wooden frame. Humans shouldn't be allowed to look so... clean. So untouched. In New Solas, they're all grime and desperation, fighting for scraps. But this one? She's like a porcelain doll someone left in my garden.

Athena jumps up, brushing dirt from her skirts as she rushes to grab another plant. The movement sends a fresh wave of her scent toward my window - honey and sweet herbs. My wings twitch, feathers rustling with the urge to swoop down and snatch her up. To see if she'd still laugh so freely with my hands around her throat.

---