Page 15 of Demonic Division

A twinge of pity squeezes my heart as I stare at the pitiful creature, dangling a blankie in the air. I want to remain angry with him—to scream and rage at the fact he lied to me—but for some reason, I can’t. That thing living beneath my skin demands I go to him. It orders me to ease the pain shining in his eyes.

“Fuck it,” I grumble, standing on shaking legs and hobbling toward him. I stop at the bars, eyeing the gift warily.

Immediately, his expression morphs into one of ecstasy, his teeth pulling back in a blinding grin. “Go on. Take it.”

I oblige, and his eyes flash. “Wrap it around your shoulders. You’ll feel better.”

Shrugging, I do as he says. A moan falls from my mouth as I’m immediately encased in warmth—like the blanket is a living, breathing thing—but I’m too grateful to ask about it.

“Thank you, Cyprien. This is wonderful.” I pull the blanket up to my nose, wrapping it in the soft material, and another breathy moan fills the air.

When I open my eyes, I find Cyprien standing there, a peculiar kind of smile tugging at his mouth.

“What?” I ask, pulling the blanket tighter around my shoulders as I’m overcome with self-consciousness.

He shakes his head, that smile widening. “I was thinking how beautiful you look wrapped in my things.”

My cheeks flame, though thankfully they’re hidden by the shadows. I clear my throat, unable to meet his eyes. I gaze down, frowning at what looks to be a plastic grocery bag in his hand. “What’s that?”

He shakes the bag, a small chuckle falling from his lips. “This? Just another little something for you.”

He reaches in slowly, dragging out the suspense. Cyprien passes a large glass jar through the bars, and my mouth waters at the prospect of food for the first time in days. I clutch the offering greedily, bringing it up to my face so I can read the label.

Pickles. He brought me pickles.

I look back up, finding Cyprien clutching a jar of peanut butter and crackers, his smile practically splitting his face. He shoves those through next, and I carefully add them to the arm holding the pickles.

“I…thank you, Cyprien. This is sweet.”

If possible, his grin grows wider. “There’s plenty more. They were the only food items in your apartment, so I knew you would like these.” He takes a step closer to the cell, reaching up and dragging a hand down the bars. “I never knew humans were so picky.”

That explains the eclectic assortment.My blush travels to the back of my neck as shame threatens to boil me alive. I don’t have the energy to explain to Cyprien that they were the only things I could afford to eat at the time, and I doubt he would comprehend it anyway.

I place the offerings onto the floor, my stomach rumbling at the possibility. Throwing dignity to the wind, I plop onto the ground, ripping open the package of crackers with a savage ferocity. I use my fingers like a spoon for the peanut butter, placing heaping gobfuls of the sticky topping onto my tongue between mouthfuls of crackers.

I close my eyes in bliss, and when they reopen, I’m met with Cyprien’s heated gaze. All too aware of the crumbs coating my lips and chin, I swallow the last of the meal and give him a sheepish smile. “Do you happen to have any water?”

He tilts his head, yellow eyes shining with amusement. “I have something better,” he whispers, lifting the bucket of ice and jostling it.

“Oh…” I blink several times, trying to devise a way to get the bucket through the bars. I push to a stand, wiping the crumbs away with the back of my hand as I step closer. “Maybe if we?—”

My voice is cut off as Cyprien’s arm shoots through the bars, fisting in the blanket and yanking me forward. Holding me in place, he sets the bucket onto the ground, pulling out a single piece of chipped ice. Liquid drips downhis fingers as he pushes his hand through the bars, placing the ice on the flat of my bottom lip.

“Open,” he commands, his voice holding an eerie distorted quality. My heart races as I look into his eyes—out of fear or desire, I do not know. And then there’s that other part that wants to obey either way.

My lips part, and Cyprien pushes the frozen liquid onto my tongue. His finger rests on my tongue, holding my jaw open as he swirls the ice around my mouth, forcing it to melt.

“Swallow,” he orders, his eyes flickering between yellow and black.

I wrap my lips around his finger, keeping eye contact as I gulp down the small bit of water. Cyprien’s eyes turn fully black at the sight, and he pulls his hand from my mouth.

In a flash, he grips my chin, yanking me forward until my forehead nearly collides with the iron bars. Instead, there’s a gentle pressure where cold hard metal should be, the strange barrier enveloping me, cushioning me while keeping me from touching the bars.

Cyprien’s yellow eyes flame, a low grow rumbling in his chest. “Fucking magic.”

He releases me, pulling his arm back to his side. His broad jaw ticks, a vein in his forehead throbs, and when I look down…

My cheeks flame at the sight of his hard length, and I quickly avert my gaze. “What do you mean?”

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