Page 11 of His Infernal Purr
I wave a dismissive hand. “I merely reshaped matter from another location.”
“What location, Morax?” His voice has that warning tone I’ve come to recognize.
“The matter came from several items in a building humans call ‘The Federal Reserve.’ They have an abundance of gold. They won’t miss it.”
Finn’s face goes pale. “You STOLE from the FEDERAL RESERVE?!”
“Not stole. Redistributed. For a worthy cause.”
He presses his hands to his face and makes a strange groaning noise. “You can’t just—that’s—we have to send it back!”
“Send it back?” I repeat incredulously. “It’s a gift! A token of my… esteem.”
“It’s EVIDENCE!” Finn exclaims. “Of a federal crime! That I’m now accessory to!”
This is not the reaction I anticipated. In Hell, receiving stolen treasures is considered a high compliment.
“I was trying to court you,” I admit stiffly. “In a manner befitting your status.”
That stops him. “You were… what?”
“Courting you,” I repeat, uncomfortable with having to explain. “Demonstrating my interest in a potential romantic and/or sexual alliance.”
Finn’s mouth opens and closes several times before he manages to speak. “You’re… interested in me? Like that?”
“Obviously,” I growl, irritated by his slowness. “Why else would I remain here, helping you clean animal excrement and restraining slobbering canines?”
A slow smile spreads across his face. “I thought maybe you just liked the cable package.”
“Your television selection is mediocre at best.”
He laughs, stepping closer. “Morax, if you want to… court me… you don’t need to steal national treasures. Just… I don’t know… ask me on a date? Like normal people do?”
I scoff. “I am not normal people. I am—”
“—a Duke of Hell, yes, I know.” His eyes are dancing with amusement now. “But you’re trying to date a normal person. So maybe try normal methods?”
I consider this. “What would constitute a ‘normal’ courtship gesture?”
“Dinner? A movie? Flowers? Something that doesn’t involve federal crime would be a good start.”
“These seem inadequate to express my intentions,” I grumble.
Finn steps closer still, until he’s standing directly in front of me. “Your intentions seem pretty clear.” His voice has dropped to a softer register that does strange things to my internal temperature. “And for the record, I’m… interested too. Have been for a while.”
“You have?” This surprises me. “Even knowing what I am?”
He shrugs, a slight flush coloring his cheeks. “Maybe because of what you are. You’re… fascinating. Annoying as hell sometimes—”
“Watch it.”
“—but fascinating.” He reaches up, hesitantly, and touches my face. Just a gentle brush of fingers against my cheek, butit sends a shock through my entire system. “And for someone who claims to be so terrible, you’re surprisingly gentle when it matters.”
I should protest this characterization. I should insist that I am fearsome and terrible and not at all gentle. Instead, I find myself leaning into his touch, my eyes drifting half-closed.
“I still want to court you properly,” I murmur.
“Okay,” he agrees softly. “But maybe we start with dinner? Something that doesn’t require an FBI investigation?”
