Page 51 of To Hunt a Demon King

The house appeared to be uninhabited. White sheets covered what must be furniture, and a fine layer of dust was present on the uncovered surfaces. The house was dark, and Carnon lit an oil lamp, allowing me to see warm wood paneling and a wooden staircase that looked like it had seen better days.

“Where are we?” I asked, stepping further into the hallway and poking my head around a door.

“My house,” said Carnon, sounding a little uncomfortable. I turned, surprised, and raised my eyebrows at him.

“You livehere?” I asked, gesturing to the covered furniture and dust and general abandonment. Clearly, whoever had been taking care of the exterior of the house had not ventured inside for some time.

“Not for a long time,” Carnon replied, looking around a bit wistfully. He had stuffed his hands in his pockets when I had let go of him, and he seemed a little uneasy. Akela whined sympathetically. “I lived here as a child, and the house is still technically mine.”

“Looks like you haven’t been back in awhile,” I said, running a finger over the mantelpiece and pulling it away to see a fine layer of grime coating it. I wiped my finger on my cloak.

“I haven’t,” Carnon said, sounding a little sad and angry somehow. I wasn’t sure if he would appreciate me asking about it, so instead, I focused on the present.

“Why did you bring me here?” I asked, watching him drop the supply bags on a shrouded table. He looked at me over a shoulder, the cloak still partially shadowing his face. He pulled down the hood, showing off the side of his head where the hair had been cropped short, then straightened and came toward me.

“First,” he said, as he prowled toward me, “because we needed a place to rest.” I felt the overwhelming instinct to back up as he prowled closer, but I resisted the urge and held my ground. Akela, perhaps sensing that this was his cue to leave, prowled into the room with all of the covered furniture and curled up on a shrouded couch.

“Second,” Carnon continued, stopping an inch away from me and pulling my own hood down, revealing my coppery braid. “Because no one will think to look for you here.”

“Both good reasons,” I said, a little breathless as he put his hands on my waist, drawing me closer to him.

“Third,” he went on, voice dropping to more of a purr as he leaned in so our lips were almost touching. “Because I don’t think your first time should be in a stranger’s bed.”

“It won’t be inmybed,” I said, voice a little thinner and breathier than I had intended.

“No,” he agreed, closing the distance between us and lowering his face so that his lips just barely brushed the shell of my ear. “It will be in mine.”

I shivered as he moved to cover my lips with his, the kiss gentle and coaxing, a promise of more to come.

“That being said,” he continued, pulling away from me and making me gasp in protest. He smiled, lifting a hand to cup my cheek. “This only has to go as far as you want it to. If you change your mind or want to stop or feel anything other than desire, we stop.” He brushed his thumb over my cheekbone and I flushed, uncertain about the right thing to do next.

“I…” I began, hesitating and biting my lower lip.

“Tell me,” Carnon said, that damned thumb of his still caressing my cheekbone. He was making it very difficult to think clearly.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I confessed, looking up at him with wide eyes that probably made me look more like a frightened child than a seductress.

“You don’t have to,” Carnon said, leaning down to brush his lips gently over mine again. “Just do what feels good. What feelsright.” This last word was said with a purr that I felt shivering down my body to my toes.

“I don’t know what will feel right,” I confessed. Carnon looked at me thoughtfully, a mischievous light dancing in his eyes.

“What if I make the moves and you tell me yes or no?” he suggested, smirking down at me as if he had devious plans. “For example.”

He bent his head, brushing his lips over the pulse point of my throat. I gasped a little as his tongue and then his teeth flicked over the skin there.

“Yes, or no?” he asked, pulling back to wait for my response.

“Yes,” I breathed. He smiled and bent his head once more, taking the time to plant a line of kisses up my neck and across my jaw. His hand snaked around my waist, pulling the blouse from where it was tucked into the back of my trousers and flattening over the bare skin of my low back.

“Yes, or no?” he rumbled, caressing the bare skin with gentle strokes.

“Yes,” I breathed again as the other hand went to the back of my head and threaded into my hair.

“Yes, or no,” he said, a demand instead of a question this time as he pulled me toward him and covered my lips with his, sweeping his tongue into my mouth and causing a moan to escape me.

“Yes,” I breathed out when he released me with a chuckle. He took my hand in his, lacing our fingers and planting a kiss to the back, before drawing me toward the staircase.

“Yes, or no?” he asked, stopping at the bottom step and waiting for my answer. I smiled, reaching up on my toes to brush a soft kiss against his mouth.

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