Page 19 of His Infernal Purr
“Now I find myself experiencing something unprecedented,” I admit quietly. “A preference for being here, in this inadequately sized apartment, with its substandard water pressure and confusing television remote, because you are here.”
His lips curve into a smile, eyes suspiciously bright. “That might be the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
“You have extremely low standards for romance,” I inform him, but there’s no bite in my words.
“I don’t know,” he muses, sliding his arms around my waist. “A powerful demon lord choosing me over literal Hell seems pretty high-standard to me.”
I allow my wings to manifest, curving them forward to envelop him in what has become our private gesture of intimacy. “You are more interesting than Hell, Finn Hughes. More challenging. More surprising.”
“More interesting than Hell,” he repeats with a grin. “I’m putting that on my dating profile if we ever break up.”
“We won’t,” I say with such sudden fierce certainty that it surprises us both.
His eyes widen slightly, then soften with an emotion I’m still learning to name. “No?”
“No,” I confirm, bending to brush my lips against his. “You’re mine now. I don’t relinquish what’s mine.”
“Possessive much?” he murmurs against my lips, but I can feel him smiling.
“Demon,” I remind him, deepening the kiss.
He responds eagerly, arms tightening around me, body pressing closer. When we finally separate, his breathing is uneven, pupils dilated with desire.
“You know,” he says conversationally, though his voice is rougher than usual, “I couldn’t help but notice how you were watching Sylvie today.”
I stiffen slightly. “I was merely observing a potential threat.”
“Mmm-hmm.” His fingers trace patterns on my chest, slipping between the buttons of my shirt to touch the skin beneath. “It was kind of hot, actually. You getting all possessive and intimidating.”
This is an unexpected development. “You… enjoyed my territorial display?”
“Maybe,” he admits with a playful smile. “Maybe I like knowing that a Duke of Hell gets jealous over little old me.”
“I was NOT jealous,” I growl, but my protest lacks conviction as his hands continue their distracting exploration.
“Sure you weren’t.” He steps back slightly, eyes glinting with mischief. “Maybe I should invite Sylvie over sometime. For dinner. To catch up. Reminisce about old times…”
I know he’s provoking me deliberately, but the thought of him and the ex-mate “reminiscing” makes something dark and primal surge within me. With a growl, I lift him effortlessly, hands gripping his thighs as his legs wrap around my waist.
“You are playing a dangerous game, Finn Hughes,” I warn, voice dropping to a rumbling bass that makes him shiver.
“Maybe I like dangerous games,” he counters, eyes alight with challenge and desire. “Maybe I like seeing what happens when you get all… demonic.”
I carry him to the bedroom, depositing him on the bed with more force than usual. He bounces slightly, laughing, but the laughter fades as I stand over him, allowing more of my true nature to surface—eyes glowing brighter, presence expanding to fill the room with subtle pressure.
“Is this what you want?” I ask, voice resonating with power. “To provoke the demon?”
His breath catches, but there’s no fear in his eyes—only heat. “Maybe I do.”
With deliberate slowness, I remove my shirt, then the rest of my clothing, standing before him in my full demonic glory. His eyes roam over me appreciatively, lingering on certain areas with obvious intent.
“Your turn,” I command, the words vibrating with power.
He complies eagerly, stripping with less grace but equal enthusiasm until he’s gloriously naked on the bed, skin flushed with arousal.
“Beautiful,” I murmur, prowling toward him. “And mine.”
“Yours,” he agrees breathlessly.
