Page 3 of Claimed By Midnight

His tan fingers catch my chin, forcing my face up. The touch sends ice through my veins. "Beg harder, little human. Perhaps I'll consider it."

His mocking tone ignites something in my chest, burning away the fear. I wrench my chin from his grasp, my hands balling into fists at my sides.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Heat floods my cheeks. "Playing with your food like some kind of?—"

"Demon?" His perfect lips curve into that cruel smile again. "Wrong species, little human. Though I'm not sure which you'd prefer out here."

I scoff. "I'd much rather face a demon than the likes of you. My father is Ilreth." I lift my chin, channeling Astrid's defiance. "Perhaps you've heard of him?"

The xaphan's golden eyes widen for a fraction of a second before his features settle into cool amusement. He throws his head back and laughs, the sound rich and dark like aged wine. His wings shift, feathers rustling in the night breeze.

"Ilreth's pet?" He circles me, predatory grace in every step. "I'd heard he'd picked up a pair of humans like a couple of strays. Oh, this is delicious." His fingers brush my hair, and I jerk away."Such fine breeding for an adopted mongrel. The silk dress, the carefully styled curls - someone's put a lot of effort into making you presentable."

"I'm his daughter?—"

"You're his property." He catches a loose ringlet between his fingers. "And quite valuable property at that. I imagine there are plenty who'd pay handsomely for Ilreth's precious little human girl."

My stomach drops. "You wouldn't dare."

"Wouldn't I?" His wings flex, sending shadows dancing across the forest floor. "Your 'father' has made quite a few enemies over the centuries. Think of the bidding war I could start."

"I'm not some trinket to be sold!"

"No?" He leans close again, and this time I smell citrus and metal on his breath. "Then what are you, little human? Because from where I'm standing, you're whatever I decide you are."

As if to prove his point, he reaches for me, picking me up to do what he would like. My nails dig into his forearm as I thrash, but it's like scratching at marble. He drags me toward the garden path, his wing brushing against my back with each step. The feathers feel like silk, a cruel contrast to his iron grip.

"Get off me!" I slam my heel into his shin. The impact jolts up my leg, and he doesn't even flinch.

His laughter rings through the garden, deep and musical. "Such spirit. Most humans would have fainted by now."

My fingers brush something cold - one of father's enchanted garden sculptures. I grab the crystal bird, ignoring the way its edges slice into my palm, and swing it at his perfect face. The sculpture shatters against his jaw in a spray of glittering shards.

His grip loosens for a heartbeat. I wrench away, but his wings sweep forward, creating a barrier of gray feathers. He catches me around the waist, lifting me off my feet.

"Careful now." His breath tickles my ear. "We wouldn't want to damage that pretty face of yours."

"Let me go!" I drive my elbow back, aiming for his throat. He catches it easily, twisting my arm behind my back until tears spring to my eyes.

"I do love when they fight." His free hand traces my jaw, and I snap at his fingers. "Such fire. The nobles will pay a fortune for you."

Terror claws at my chest, but anger burns hotter. I'm not some helpless child anymore, not the fragile sister everyone needs to protect. I throw my head back, feeling the crunch as my skull connects with his nose. Warm droplets splash against my neck - blood.

His grip tightens until I can barely breathe. "That," he growls, "was extremely unwise."

I kick and thrash, but his strength is overwhelming. My struggles only seem to amuse him more, his laughter mixing with my desperate gasps for air.

"Father will kill you for this," I spit.

"Your demon lord can try." His wings fold around us like a feathered cage. "But first, he'll have to find you."

I thrash in his iron grip, my skirts tangling around my legs as he lifts me higher. His laughter rings in my ears, deep and musical, a sound that should be beautiful but only makes my skin crawl. My fingers scrabble against his forearms, searching for any weakness, but his skin feels like polished stone beneath my nails.

"Such a delicate little thing." His breath stirs my hair. "Yet you fight like a trapped wild animal."

I try to wrench away, but his wings sweep forward, creating a wall of gray feathers that blocks my escape. He catches me around the waist, lifting me off my feet as if I weigh nothing.

"Is this how you treat all your guests?" His amusement only fuels my rage. "Such poor manners."

---