Page 29 of The Demon's Pet

It took me a minute to recall everything because my head ached, but even that made me remember that someone had tossed a rock on me and knocked me out.

Because I’d exhibited demon powers.

“Aren’t you tired of bothering me?” I rolled my eyes at Sam and turned over to look at the cold gray concrete wall of my cell, the hard, lumpy straw mat beneath me barely counting as a mattress. Then I turned back around to see his reaction, unable to stop myself.

“Well, if my company is unwelcome…” He slid off the desk and stood up, looking almost tall enough to reach the ceiling.

“How tall are you?”

He ignored me and walked over to pace in front of my cell. Despite his calm expression, his movements seemed somewhat agitated.

His gorgeous brows were furrowed, his hands behind his back as he walked. He was wearing a black outfit that looked nothing like the robes the alphas were wearing.

Chains ran over his shoulders and crossed in the middle of his chest, then wrapped back around to his hips, silver and gleaming. He wore a long-sleeved tunic that was wrapped tight by some type of black bandages, and the tunic came to midthigh, revealing tight pants with black bandages that showed off heavily muscled legs.

At his hip, in an elaborate black and silver sheath, was a katana.

Damn, I wanted one.

I kept moving my eyes down and noticed his black leather boots, which had black and silver spikes at odd angles. His gaze, as I studied him, held a challenge.

“Like what you see?” He taunted.

“No,” I lied.

“Liar,” he said, and there was a smile in his voice.

My lips twitched as well. Despite the situation, there was something compelling about him. Then I remembered everything that had happened between us and turned back to the wall again.

“What’s wrong? I’m so ugly to look at that you prefer concrete?”

I said nothing.

I heard his footsteps move to the desk, which creaked as he probably sat down on it. I didn’t look to see.

“So you’re here to kill me?” I asked, my heart racing.

“That’s why they called me, yes.”

“How do they even do that? Call an angel.”

“We have our ways,” he said. “Among them are birds, magical bond highways, and other forms of communication with other communities.”

“Seems good to be a god,” I muttered.

He was quiet again at that.

I decided to be quiet as well. What point was there in getting to know someone who was going to kill me? That would only make the whole thing more painful for both of us. Not that I cared if I hurt him.

Not that he had a heart to hurt.

He’d left me to be stoned last night, after all, after forcing a kiss on me.

“What happened last night?” he asked in that calm, smooth voice that intoxicated my senses like mulberry wine fresh from the village sommelier.

I decided not to tell him.

“Did my kiss help?”

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