Page 48 of Of Spindles and Nightfall
He narrowed his eyes. “And demons cannot appreciate beauty?”
“Not openly.”
He pressed his lips. “Fair enough.” And perhaps that was the actual problem with demons. Aryana thought them incapable of enjoying such things, but they were very much capable. They simply always forced themselves to conceal it.
Just as Zarathos had to hide himself. How long had he wished to be like other demons? And yet, despite being king, he remained hidden, always cautious.
“It is peaceful here, though,” Aryana admitted. “And I am grateful to you for freeing me from King Salen.” She glanced at him. “Even if it was only because you want the scepter to win the trials and hold on to your power.”
He frowned. Certainly, he intended to preserve his power. Any other reason would be weakness. Dangerous. Forget that when he saw the controller on her, onhisBloodbound, he’d wanted to rip out King Salen’s heart and offer it to Aryana as a feast.
Tearing off the bastard’s arm had been restraint.
He held the cursed Bloodbinding responsible. It was warping his instincts in ways that caused him to almost regret striking the deal with her.
But if he got the scepter, then everything would be worth it, he reminded himself. And then he could dispose of the vampire princess as he pleased. Then the bond, her fiery determination, and the way her past made him believe she might actually understand him better than anyone else would no longer affect him.
She reached down to put her hands in the stream, but Zarathos grasped her arm and jerked her away. She stumbled into him, and he placed his palm against her spine to steady her.
“Do not touch the water. The stream is the home to a very jealous river goddess.”
“Jealous? What does that have to do with anything?” But then realization dawned on her features, followed by disgust. “Let me guess, she’s one of your many paramours.”
He urged her back another step, a slow grin spreading on his face. “If it makes you feel any better, it didn’t last long.”
Aryana smelled of lavender from her recent bath. Her clothes gave off a hint of honeysuckle. Gods, he loved those smells, and on her itwas as if discovering it again for the first time. His arm tightened on her as his gaze traced the pale curve of her skin, a yearning growing within him to experience its softness beneath his fingertips.
And for some strange reason, she hadn’t withdrawn. “And why would that make me feel better?”
The challenging twist of her mouth did things to Zarathos. He wanted to catch those defiant lips between his. The beast inside of him stirred, taking notice. He should release her and step away.
Instead, he reached up and drew a knuckle over her cheek. “I don’t know. My past exploits seem to upset you.”
Her eyes widened, and she stepped back, pulling from his grasp. “You only prove that my assessment about demons and love is true.”
He clenched his jaw. He was glad she moved, so the sting in his chest at her lack of warmth could shrivel up and die. The damn little princess. The bond mark burned on his bicep, and the beast inside him growled, wanting to break free. His potion was wearing off much too soon. This marked the third time it had done so. Damn it.
The timing was irrelevant. He needed it. He needed it now. Consequences would follow if he kept taking it so often, but that mattered less than the results of going without it. Scrounging around in his pocket, he lifted the bottle and only hesitated briefly before downing the contents with an unsteady hand. The taste was ash on his tongue. It always had that flavor, and still he forced it down.
She watched him closely, curiosity mingled with a guarded look that said she wasn’t sure what to make of him.
He stoppered the empty vial, storing it in his clothes. “Demons do love, Aryana. I assure you of that. I simply choose not to.”
“I know demons can love, but it’s never a selfless love. It can never be used for good.”
He waved a dismissive hand. “Demons don’t care about good and bad. Selfish or selfless… We fall in love with passion and fierceness, determination and loyalty. Will you hate us if we show our devotion differently than humans?”
“Demon love is worthless unless there is selflessness to it.”
“All affection is inherently selfish. Would we not love unless it brought us some level of pleasure? But itisalways dangerous because it leaves us exposed and easy to exploit.”
Those pretty lips curled in disgust. “And that is why your love will always pale compared to what humans are capable of.”
“What about you, Aryana? Is your love so weak?”
Something vulnerable flashed across her face and he thought of her memories with her uncle and his manipulation tactics and instantly regretted it.
He turned away. This wasn’t working. Somehow, Zarathos was making everything worse. Sitting down on a log next to the stream, he said, “Forget what I said. Come, sit.” He patted the spot next to him.
